mixlyra-blog

[mixlyra-blog]

"Alright, now that just sounds so much more interesting than how you originally put it." Lyra shifted interestedly in her seat, stopping her foolish headbanging and giving crown every bit of her attention. "And fine. If you don't find this all lucrative, then tell me at least what you'd like in exchange for this information that you're feeding me." She flaps her hands lightly. "I mean you could totally take advantage of the fact that I don't really care what I'm spilling to you and dig whatever you can out of me. I wouldn't mind, anyway." Lyra's allegiance was never to Hydrus, nor Myeongcho, nor her own self.

Her allegiance was something deeper, that ran far back and out of Myeongcho, to a little island filled with experiments and torturous operations she vaguely remembered, called The Facility.

"And well, I never wanted to be more popular than our boss." She scowled slightly, crossing her arms defiantly as she huffed in Crown's direction astutely. "I came in here wanting to be normal, and everyone gave me everything but normal." She complained to the older male with a light huff. " And even I can tell that some part of you ain't believing about this doppelganger thing that I said it to be." She paused for a moment, thinking if she should divulge her next words to the male so apparently.

"You know, that doppelganger thing is all a lie." She admits, not in the slightest bit sheepish as she shrugged her shoulders off handedly. "It was the most convenient reason that I could ever come up with to make people stop hounding me about Bae Jooeun, and so I took it the first chance I got, and sold the idea like hell was chasing on the heels of my feet." She tilted her face up to Crown's expectantly." So now yours, since I've shared with you a secret of mine. The more you tell me about yourself and the greater the worth of the secret, I promise I'll tell you a secret of equivalent worth in exchange. " She promised, dark eyes crystal clear and honest. Lyra was always one to hold to her own words, and that said the same for everything that she promised.

❝ bury a friend

[mixlyra-blog]

"That's an understatement. I used to have so many people clamber after me back in the facility. " She grumbled deeply at his words, a faint sigh bubbling from her lips as she gives a broody stare to the liquid alcohol deep in her glass. Of course, that had been back when she was training with the other trainees, and with all of them being males and her the only female, there were never short of practice for her when it came to kissing. "Oi. Let me ask you something." The lack of a filter is something that Lyra has all the time, especially when she's inebriated. "Another question." She paused, her brain belatedly catching up with the fact that she had already asked him a question once over. "Nothing related to the first." A yawn takes over her lips that she doesn't even try to hold back, and she sniffs for a moment, forgetting the question that she had in mind for a few moments and bringing the cup of alcohol to her lips, vision swimming.

"Are you trying to fish stuff out of me?" What stuff--Lyra didn't know, and didn't understand at all. "You know, like taking a stick and poking and prodding around to see if I really can give away anything--" She rambles incoherently, clearly too drunk to give a straight answer. "Can you take me home?" Her topics shift from one place to another, a mess of navigation and utter lack of coherency. "I sleep on the uhhh things close to the roof." In fact, Lyra just stayed wherever there was space. Unfortunately, her mentors had made the effort to tutor her in the art of killing, but never in the art of social skills--and thus till now, Lyra was living anywhere and everywhere, stealing long woolen sweaters for a change and sneaking into showers when various home owners weren't home. It was something of a norm for her, and thus the woman didn't find anything strange to do with it, but still. Whatever it was, wasn't normal.

Her fingers jerk her sleeve out of habit, the faint, bumpy brand of the unit that she belonged to in the facility coming to view.

#7003

The numbers read insignificant as a stand alone, and her nails scratched against the bumpy scar, picking on it like a scab she didn't want to heal. It was a habit that she didn't remember explicitly why she had to do all the time, the very reason for it having vanished from her mind like a whisp in the wind.

lion’s den.

mixlyra:

Lyra only scowls at Jongin, face a ruddy red as she slams the cup right back onto the bartender’s table with a sniff. A part of her resisted being called Noona by Jongin. They definitely had met on the wrong foot before, considering that he had knocked into her committing one of her missions–well it was more of a murder, but Lyra refused to believe that it was that way, rather astutely.

“Stop calling me Noona.” She complained into her drink, sipping from the alcohol rather happily as she glanced at Jongin through a side glance. “And I can drink more!” Lyra pouts, lifting the glass and swaying to her feet, before almost collapsing with a sigh onto Jongin, blinking her eyes rather blearily up at him. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” She slurred a little, blinking rapidly before sniffling. “You’re nicer than others. Others keep recognising me even when I don’t want them to.” Her finger pokes Jongin in the chest lightly, leaning her body weight onto his. “You don’t. Am I like her?” Lyra would definitely regret having drank this much–not because of the terrible hangover that she would have, but more of the fact that she was embarrassing herself by fawning all over Jongin. Granted, she was terribly drunk, but still, that was little to no excuse for Lyra, who was a little perfectionist herself.

“Can I ask you something too?” She blinked, currently curled up on his lap, body lightly bracing against Jongin’s as she exhaled lightly, the smell of wine and grapes on her lips. “Why weren’t you surprised when I kissed you? Is it because of the mask?” That had been the question bothering her all this while. While Lyra herself felt that she wasn’t that pretty, she was still pretty sure that when faced with someone like herself, rarely would other men be able to resist, even with how green she was with the art of seduction. “Or that I suck at kissing?” She scowled for a moment. “I meant to take you by surprise then, but you were so mean.” She huffed, turning her face lightly away from Jongin as though she was holding a childish grudge against him.

he understands her from too many traffics coursing in the deep web, the disappearance of a girl from his supposed current social circle a phenomenon that has been… archived, to say the least. it’s obsolete, a cold case which answer lies in front of their naked eyes, yet they cannot make the connection of. foolish people beget foolish reasons; she’s a vanishing act furnished with nothing but amnesia. her family could’ve retrieved her from the crime scene before her hands spill too much blood, yet here they are. and here she is, with her emptied mind basking in the tabula rasa. such innocence makes jongin want to scoff. he might not be the brightest, never a genius, but even without all the knowledge of underground scenes, he would’ve been able to make sense out of this. not like everyone’s eyes are bruised, this obscene sight of stupidity already beyond being risible. still, they choose to not speak, leaving the syllables of this girl dead. she technically is, at this point.

she’s held captive by the inebriation, calling this a homage for her own death. he plays a part, ensuring that she’s under the influence enough for him to toy with. it isn’t anything nice, but he’s never claimed as such. he himself takes another shot for the win, smirking inwardly. she’s way beyond help, maturity flushed down the toilet there’s no use trying to infuse some logic into her. she herself rejects the possible help, after all, so what’s there for people to say? “ah, lyra, then?” he asks to appease her, smiling amicably. trying to get her drunk — as if she isn’t shitfaced right now. her words are already slurred, blurry lines becoming even less defined. “i don’t know whom you’re talking about,” he says, as he’s not supposed to know. he arrived here only last year, after all, so he didn’t know her personally as this dead girl. “but thank you for saying i’m nicer than the rest.” he chuckles tersely, shaking his head. “i’d like to think i’m pretty nice indeed.” is he?

when she’s now on his lap, which he isn’t totally against, yet isn’t totally into either, she asks him the burning question that apparently fissured her ego. the kiss — of course, of course. this girl has the power to spread the fact that kim jongin isn’t entirely a weakling with no ways of self-defense, but then again, who would trust a murderer with no memories? she’s nothing but another rigor mortis in the mpd’s morgue, a rotting identity with no trustworthy accounts. for that, he fears naught about his stance. “well, i was… in fact very surprised,” he replies, acting as if it did startle him. “but the fact that… you did what you did at that time… that one shocked me more, naturally.” he doesn’t divulge the topic in a manner that anyone can derive. he isn’t exposing her true nature in this open space, public ears corroding their privacy. it’s for his own safety as well, so he’d keep it quiet for now. “i— well, to be frank, i pulled away before you could even do it properly.” he gives her a meaningful look before signalling for the bartender to give them another round. to pour more, sloshing their systems in the manmade fuse. “i believe you would do it well typically, though.”   ( @mixlyra )

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ i know that you’ve been hurting all this time. ❜❜

“ Me? Hurting?” Confusing marred Lyra’s pretty features as she scrunched her nose, turning a look at herself all over as she shuffled in a circle once, hair swinging round and round as she turned in circles, trying to see the back of herself for any apparent injuries. “Wrong though–I’m not injured.” Its barely a minute later when she refutes his words, spinning back to face Lucas with a innocent but confused look on her face. 

“I made sure to be very careful when I went out. And I don’t trip as much as before.” Her fingers instantly go towards her lips, hovering lightly over the pink tiers as she tilted her head. Someone like her that had little to no memories of her past wouldn’t hurt–that much Lyra clearly knew, the dark glints of her pretty eyes blased and uncaring as she shrugged her shoulders offhandedly. 

“I do have times where I get hurt–but just…not today, I would suppose.”She finally turns from squatting in the chair to sitting in the chair, fist at her mouth as she buried her nose lightly into the freshly washed shirt that she was wearing, the soft smell of it anchoring her as she twisted her feet lightly together. “But–a curious little question. Why do you care so much?”

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ why are you so fearless? ❜❜

The question posited by her friend clearly stumped Lyra, her face and body frozen in the throes of its thoughts, mouth parted slightly open as she tried to think of a reasonable explanation for the reason behind her fearlessness. Was it natural? This lack of fear? A habit? A routine–or simply just that she was utterly sick and twisted through and through?

Lyra knew that she didn’t feel much, or most at all–that was the perks and the cons of being a hitman. Training had long eroded her sense of her perception on her emotions, rendering her like a useless lamb and an oblivious brick wall to any passing emotions of others around her. It was the root of all her social mistakes, the anger from others and the frustration that she didn’t understand what it mean to be fearful and tactful that usually frustrated others.

But Lyra had a strange feeling that Dani wasn’t talking about that. 

The fearlessness that she referred to was something of a different nature, teetering on the bordering line of breeching into her dual identity–something that she refused to tie over to her usual civilian life. Despite trying to act normally, Lyra never realised that all of her actions and hobbies were anything but normal. Normality to her--was simply what she had been doing for the past six years, knife wielding, flipping, and killing, though the last one couldn’t be done openly now that she had taken a turn to pretend as a civilian.

“I fear a lot of things.” So she takes to avoiding the question deftly, the twist of her words changing the question from being someone fearless to addressing what she was practically afraid of. “I fear spiders, babies, television and new things.” Her toes curled as she sat in her queer position on the sofa, squatting more than sitting--yet another habit of hers that she failed miserably to realise just wasn’t normal. “ What do you mean that I’m fearless?” Lyra finally huffed with a confused pout to her lips, tugging lightly on Dani’s hands.

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ i like you for some reason. ❜❜

“Do I....know you?” Confessions are terrifying things, Lyra eventually decides. Horrible, Terrifying things. She’s had people confess to her twice in a row! She all but spins in her chair, trying to wrap her head around the fact that someone liked her.

“.....Why?” She asked , eyes flickering interestedly. “Why do you like me I mean? I’m just...me.” The too long sleeves of her cardigan flops as she flaps her hands, sniffing slightly and trying to make sense of the other’s words.

“I’m not that awesome either so, you’d have to be quite dumb to like me.” There was no trace of offense or malice in her voice-- just plain, pure honesty and curiousity. Lyra was strange like that, people would normally find. “I’m strange, stupid, and have a large blank space of memory in my mind. So what’s so unbelievably attractive about me?”

[mixlyra-blog]

This is a headcanon meme for everyone! You’ll be able to reblog this meme for fourteen days starting today, but feel free to continue answering memes after that if need be. Go wild with them and have a good time! Also feel free to use this for sentence starters or drabbles; the most important thing is to get everyone writing. Hopefully, it’ll spark some new plot ideas and interactions too!

Remember to reblog this if you’re interested in receiving a meme, and to send some to everyone that reblogs it, too! You’re welcome to skip over this if you’d like to; it’s by no means mandatory to reblog and participate. Most importantly, though, have fun!!

Keep reading

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ be quiet. i’m trying to plan a rebellion. ❜❜

“Rebellions are difficult to plan though–”Lyra mumbles through a mouthful of fried calamari and wide eyes. “Are you sure you’re gonna go through with what you said?” This would be a good valuable information for her to have had access to, if it were any true. Someone in Myeongcho attempting a futile rebellion–Lyra wanted to laugh a little.

With the amount of gangs and the struggling MPD, the chances of a rebellion planned on a whim succeeding would be more than just unbelievably low–though, the young woman found that she didn’t really mind such an idea. After all, Lyra’s allegiance never really lay with her gang. Being “given” meant that her loyalties still lay with The Unspeakables rather than with Hydrus, even then, not many knew of the rather naive and innocent woman’s association as one of the hitmen in that particular gang. 

“What are you gonna start with? Weapons? Gathering masses?” The fried calamari plate lays agonisingly empty in front of them, and Lyra bemoans quietly the tragically small amount of food that had vanished behind her lips. Her fingers quickly find their next target, aiming for the strawberry lollipop not a distance away, the crinkle of the sweet wrapper being unwrapped from the half melted candy crackling between them. “I can help with people. I’m good with people.”

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ how can i trust you? ❜❜

“You can’t.” Shouldn’t, would be a more accurate word to describe things. “But I guess, the choice is ultimately up to you, not me.” The strangest yawn overtook her lips as she stretched lightly as she tilted her head back slightly to glance at the male, long lashed eyes scrutinizing his features, the emotion in them tired but weary.

“I’m the worst person to trust, considering that I don’t have any memories. My past is like a blank sheet of paper, with occasional flashbacks and lots of unreliability. So if you’re looking for someone to tell you more about the history of Myeongcho or anything related to the past, I’m not the most trustworthy person to gather the information from.” Lyra rolled the pencil up and down the table with  a light pout, a sigh murmuring from her lips in boredom as she sat at the table in Friends for Myeongcho, glancing up periodically at the male. “Also, I only arrived in the island a few weeks ago, even though I’ve had many people come up to me thinking that I’m whoever that girl that disappeared 6 year ago was, I have no idea who the hell she is. Anyway--” Another uncontrolled yawn overtook her lips as she gave a squeal as she stretched her limbs. 

“Sorry, I know that you wanted some information, that’s why you came to me. But I suck at that, unless its more of the recent events.” 

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ i have no intention of hurting you. ❜❜

“And I have no intention of hurting you either.” Lyra blinked at the male, tilting her head carefully as she scrutinized the other, squatting in her chair calmly, as though the other wasn’t holding a gun at her temple. Guns were nothing to be afraid of, and neither was death. It was something that came and went as quickly as a snap of a finger, and Lyra had no opinions or fears if it should be her time to leave this world. But of course, the only disgruntled thing that she would feel perhaps–would be the fact that she hadn’t managed to fight everything all out with the male. 

Yet.

Even worse still, she wasn’t dressed in the most optimal dressings for assassination and killing, and she couldn’t get a read on the man. Not being able to read his body language meant that Lyra didn’t know if he perceived her as a civilian or a hitman, and boy–did Lyra not want to give away her dual identity whilst dressed in her casual clothes. To make things even worse, she was wearing her favourite cashmere sweater. As much as Lyra felt indifference about killing someone, she desperately wanted to avoid having to live with trying to rid her favourite piece of clothing from all the fresh bloodstains that would line its hems from a potential scuffle.

So–she put her hands up, extending one in a form of a handshake. A simple solution to all her problems would be for Lyra to act as a civilian all the way through, though there were some doubts about the way she functioned, moved and sat on things. 

“So...friends?” Most people would be thoroughly taken aback by the utter frankness and easygoing personality of the young woman, tilting her head slightly at an angle, eyes bright but intrigued. Who in the right mind would actually ask someone that they had been wary of just moments before for friendship? Probably only Lyra.

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ i like you for some reason. ❜❜

The unexpected confession causes Lyra to pause in her spinning, eyes wide as she practically wheels herself back around to face Medusa, finger probing and nitpicking the skin of her bottom lip, as though incredibly conflicted about the next few words that she was thinking of saying next.

“I like you too--but not in that way.” The younger mumbled emphatically. “I mean, you’re pretty and all, and you have nice eyes and a great, great smile--but..but aren’t you dating someone?” Confusion fluttered across Lyra’s face, her features a mask of clueless innocence as her finger darted to scratch behind her ear. “And besides, I think I still like boys better than girls when it comes to romantic shit.” The younger hitwoman squatted on her seat precariously, toes curling, eyes flickering rather disinterestedly. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings though--” A faint tinge of concern bleed through her voice, as though she was truly worried about the present situation they’d found themselves in. 

Unless Lyra had--as always, read the meaning of the situation wrong of course, which in all honesty, she had most likely did, though embarrassment was not something that came easily to her due to her rather clueless nature of everything else in the world. It came with being a blank sheet of paper and amnesia, she supposed.

[mixlyra-blog]

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ stop staring at me and eat. ❜❜

Lyra blinks at the male, spoon already half raised towards her mouth. There’s a beat of silence before she stuffs the whole spoonful of rice into her mouth like a raging hungry lion, scarfing down her food but never keeping her eyes off the male as he typed on his computer.

“You’re pretty though. So you can’t blame me for liking to stare at you. You’re a better view than everyone else here.” She squatted on her seat, dishing yet another spoonful of rice into her mouth. “I like pretty views.” Her feet crossed each other lightly as she chewed on her food, voice muffled by her half filled mouth.

“And if you hadn’t drawn my attention to you, I wouldn’t have stared.” Lyra tilted her head slightly, reaching into her pocket for the packet of sweets she always kept on her person, the crinkle of sweet wrappers crackling through the air. “Want one? Its fruit flavoured. And pretty sweet.” Her fingers twist the candy wrapper quickly, the crinkle of it sharp and crackling as the orange coloured candy was unwrapped and revealed inside. The candy popped behind her lips, and Lyra gave it an experimental suck or two, a hum light on her lips. “Hm. Orange. I wanted strawberry.” She frowned down at the candy wrapper with a confused expression on her sweet features. “It said it was fruit flavoured but all the colours were the same…”Her voice trailed off as she stared at the candy wrapper with a slight squint, entirely absorbed in the sweet that had apparently robbed her of her desired flavour.

[mixlyra-blog]

Lyra’s more than used to the technicalities of those in the medical field. To the younger girl, its nothing much really–she’s heard those terms one too many times in the cold lab back when she underwent her training. Those words that had been uttered were dead, cold and grey then, like a flat piece of cardboard that she couldn’t make sense of.

But the nurse–Hani, her name was, she eventually learned–that she’d come to for her other….special wounds seemed to have a different idea about scars. She fidgeted in the seat, wondering if she should show the other woman the patchwork of scars all over her body, like a map of brutality and fury, patchwork of mismatched skin and a few bumpy scars that ran like train lines of crudely cut experiments and horrifying surgeries done by someone who didn’t know how to wield a scalpel. Back there–scars were patchwork of honour. Of survival instincts that were a cut above the rest.

One less or one more made no different to Lyra.

The girl curled from her squatting position on her seat, reaching out silently to tap the woman’s hand in a strange way of something akin to comfort.

“Look.” She insisted, stripping her top off her body without a care in the world. Horrified and embarrassed sounds from the employees at the pharmacy of the sight of thr stripping woman filled the air around them, and Lyra practically turned, oblivious to how much of an impact a simple stripping had on the masses in the pharmacy. Not a single piece of skin was unmarred, unblemished beyond the neck down of the younger woman’s body, continuing all the way down past her jeans. Bumpy scars from scalpels littered her body more than gunshot wounds and scars from brawls. Lyra turned, brushing aside her hair to show the terrible expanse of her back, the tattoo of a rose blooming on the right side of the middle of her back disfigured by the scars from old whip wounds criss crossing all over her back. Of course, whoever had done the scarring to her, clearly avoided all the visible spots on her body. Her mid-thighs, calves and arms were all free from the terrible scarring that occurred round her chest, midriff and back.

“See here.” She insisted, pointing to a particular scar that continued from the middle of her back to the front of her stomach, the pale lines of scarring crisscrossing over each other as though someone had repeatedly done exactly what Hani had warned not to do. The skin puckered from where the repeated scarring had occurred, and Lyra sighed.

“See? You can’t really see the old.” What she’d meant as old scars had been the original scar that she’d obtained from her first surgical experiment, the silver line of the scar having completely disappeared beneath all the other scarred pieces of tissues. “Its all…underneath.”

❛❛ if you get a bigger wound on top of them, you can’t see old scars. ❜❜

SENTENCE STARTER: Accepting! 

“And the skin gets darker. Discoloration happens and infection too.” 

She didn’t mean to actually put some medical thoughts there but the conversation got deep out of nowhere and Hani wasn’t prepared for all that. She’s blocked almost every haunting memory out of her mind but they were her ghosts and she’s scared of how they’re just ready to hunt her ass down every time she let herself feel even just for a little bit. “Sorry, my mind wandered off to the medical section right away.” Hani smiles at the other female, tilting her head to the side to appear friendly. She still finds it hard to this day to make friends and opening up still feels like cutting through her own skin and baring her soul out for the world to point their fingers at. 

“But if you think about it, that scar was small and you let yourself get a bigger one to cover it up. You just made things worse for yourself. You keep attacking at a certain spot, hoping to cover it up however possible but it’s not helping at all.” Hani shook her head. It took her long enough to get here and she’s made mistakes along the way. Mistakes that left scars on her and she wouldn’t dare cover it up with bigger ones. The scars were made from deep wounds after all. 

“I’m not sure if you want a bigger one because they’re not as deep as the smaller scars that were made with deeper wounds. But you should know that the only one that’s judging those scars is you. Everyone has them but here we are, all trying to cover it up in whatever way we possibly could.”

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ are you sorry? ❜❜

“Me? Sorry? What–excuse me?” She must have heard the male wrongly, Lyra blinked incredulously at Bomin. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She blinked at the male, balancing perfectly on the spinning chair as she twisted her body round and round endlessly. “I swear it wasn’t me that spilled something on your computer.” The sparking computer lies like a sad piece of machinery on its end, quite a troubling distance away from Lyra and her odd fascination with a spinning chair. 

“Apologising for something that I didn’t do isn’t in my bloodstream, unfortunately.” As catastrophic and problematic Lyra was with computers, this time--she really hadn’t been the culprit to knock over the liquid onto the working computer. It had been the stray cat that had leapt over and onto the the table in the coffee shop that had been the culprit. But Lyra supposed, with her track record, it was only safe to assume that she was the only truly at fault. “So, its a definite no, I’m not sorry.” She paused for a moment, watching his sparking computer with dark eyes, adding only after a slight pause of a moment. “But I do feel sorry for your computer though. Its more of a pity sense rather than an apologetic sense, that’s the saddest part of it all.”

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ be quiet. i’m trying to plan a rebellion. ❜❜

“ Rebellion?”  Lyra snorted through a huge mouthful of food. “ Those aren’t fun to plan, though. Its like delibrately disobey a parent that sort of thing.”  She paused for a moment, swallowing her food abruptly, before hacking as she choked on a little bit of food. “ Why would you try to plan a rebellion?” Another spoonful of glass noodles is practically shoved into her mouth, past her lips, a moan of light satisfaction bursting from them as the oily but sinfully delicious meal saturates her taste buds. 

“Explain your logic.” Lyra practically demands, waving the chopsticks in the male’s direction. “And its not as though you’d probably succeed--you won’t there’s not enough people, not enough manpower, and people don’t kill for fun nowadays. Or at least they don’t. Here.” She adds the last sentence like an afternote, stuffing yet another spoonful of glass noodles into her mouth.

“Mmmm. This is so good--are you sure you don’t want some?” She tilts her head, shovelling another spoonful of the food as she eyed Jihoon rather suspiciously, already hording a large portion of the glass noodles towards her side. People who know Lyra know this about the girl--with regards to food, especially with regards to any type of food, Lyra would never let up on someone stealing away what belonged in her mouth. Perhaps it was due to her past that no one knew--a little starvation that she went through perhaps, in her more youthful days..? No one knew. But what they did know about was that whoever snatched even an ounce of her food, would probably have a chopstick flying towards their eyes in a rather vicious manner. Of course, that was only when she didn’t offer others some of her food...but even when she did, people still had to be careful, because Lyra was unbelievably touchy when it came to her food.

[mixlyra-blog]

sunnyxmi

Relaxing slightly at the sight of Lyra holding her phone upside down, she exhaled a short, airy laugh. “It’s…” Sighing, her usual dramatic sigh, she sat forward, snatching the phone out of Lyra’s hands. “It’s upside down…” She placed it the correct way in the girl’s hand, and upon the visual cue, the phone unlocked. Sunny grabbed it once again, placing the information in her phone for safe keeping. “They have technology classes at the senior center, you know. Or they have some at the library for the kiddies as well. You could use it.”

The sudden emotion of anger that assaults Sunny’s tone is something entirely unfamiliar to Lyra, and she shuffles back timidly, like a hurt kitten, lost and more than just a little confused. She was trying to help her--so why was Sunny so angry about it? Was it because she didn’t say things correctly? Or that she didn’t want to kill the man--ah that must be the answer then. Sunny was far too kind hearted. She hadn’t prepared herself for the consequences, and maybe, Lyra had been a tad too harsh.

“I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.” Lyra twiddled her feet together, the automatic apology fluttering from her lips like a mechanism. She had been taught to concede that things were her fault if anyone higher ranked than her felt that it was indeed wrong after all, and that part of her failed to change. “Why are you so angry?” The words tumble from her lips rather frantically, like a child trying to right a wrong. “I will--I will kill him for you if you want.” A flicker of an old memory back from her training flutters behind her eyelids, her fingers tightening around the rifle that leaned against her shoulder. “Don’t be mad. Its my fault. I’m sorry.” The flinch that came after was almost automatic, a reflexive jolt as though she was shying away from being hit by another. 

“I was just trying to help, but you can don’t come with me, if you don’t want to.” Lyra had entirely lost the count of how many times she had truly repeated herself, but that didn’t matter--what mattered was that Sunny wasn’t mad at her, after all, she had been one of the firsts that showed concern towards her as Lyra, not as the memory of the face that everyone thought her to be. That itself was incredibly important for Lyra, even if as the days passed she felt as though she was indeed the person that everyone had said that she was supposed to be.

“ I don’t wanna go for those classes.” Lyra practically huffed stubbornly, shaking her head as she took back the phone from Sunny with a faint sigh, glancing at the contact now in her phone. “ Everyone looks at me funny. Like I shouldn’t be there.” 

buried.

[mixlyra-blog]

❛❛ get on my back. you’re hurt. ❜❜

Sentence Memes: Accepting!!

“I am not.” The silent rejection of his offer to help is nothing but a normal reaction from Lyra. “Its only a small cut on my hand, why do I need to get on your back?” She huffed, putting down the knife that was cutting the onions to suck on the thumb that she had previously injured. “And you’re over-exaggerating. The rock climbing that you took me for fun this afternoon only bruised and roughed me up a little. Nothing more.”

What she didn’t tell Hide was of the large bruise at her side, not from rock climbing or anything, but more from a close shave of a hit gone wrong. The spot was still fairly tender, and with each breath she took, her ribs ached. But Hide wasn’t to know about all of this. Afterall, she was simply Lyra to him–and knowing that he was a hitman himself made her hair stand on end, especially when he eyed her in a certain way she recognised was more critical than actually with his usual softness.

Some part of her knew that with the amount of time they spent fucking and playing with each other, Hide would definitely have known and recognised some behaviours of hers that coincided with the hitman side of his. 

“So, what else are we gonna do?” She tugged him forward for a languid kiss, sly and sheepish at the same time, trying to distract the male from the aforementioned injury. She knew that he would find out about that huge, bloody bruise at her side sooner or later, but the young woman would do everything in her power to at the very least--delay the inevitable.