#ptternminds ( sarang. )

[kamipyre]

@ptternminds sent in: Sarang's hands suit themselves perfectly to the task at hand, even though they're the hands of a killer. It's almost a shame, how easily she forgets they are, when she buzzes around Suki like a butterfly, a dragonfly, as opposed to the wasp she actually is. She's holding up two pairs of earrings. Right hand: silver, long enough to graze the jaw ever so slightly if the head is tilted just right, fine and soft to run through a palm. Left hand: the other, similar, but rather than appearing like a string, small light pink hearts cascade in a shorter length, ending in a larger heart carrying most of the weight between her fingers. Her eyebrows waggle. She lifts the left hand slightly higher. "You gotta pick a pair. It's all about exploring new styles, come on." ((i was writing this and realized in spite of Sarang being a WHOLE LOT ORDER when I think about these two, Suki feels more mature? in how she handles the past, in particular? BUT ANYWAYSD FDKLHGL))

UNSURPRISINGLY, SHE'S ALWAYS HAD A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH FASHION. On one hand, it is a means of expressing herself– if she dressed well enough, smart enough, or maybe even outrageously enough, would they notice that before her face? She's dreamt about it before, always wondering, always milling on the possibilities, but never quite bold enough to take the risk.

( Of the things to be timid around, it just has to be fashion doesn't it? Perhaps this is something she could ask her co-workers for advice once upon a time– man or woman or enby, most are decidedly bold in their fashion choice. From leather jackets to fur linings, to frills lining the edge of magenta overcoats, they are brazen in their choices. Confident and closed to any if not all critiques. )  

Of course Suki barely knows where to even start. It's not like she can ask her co-workers ( or at least the ones she actually still likes ) anyways– it occurs to her that just like with other areas in her life, perhaps getting a mentor is key to learning. It can't be a man though, no matter how well dressed they are and unfortunately, if not all of them happen to be well, men. Again, it occurs to her that having no femme-aligning friends is coming to bite her in the ass.

But even if it was a woman, her mentor would need to carry herself in the same manner as all the others: relentless, patient, and wise. Pro-active too– Suki's learning has always been more hands-on. So it'd have be someone like–

Jing holds up the two earrings, which as far as Suki is aware, are only different by the hearts dangling on the end of the right one. She tilts her head. "What about the rest of the outfit? I thought people are supposed to pick the accessories after they have one." Something she remembers from the one too many dramas she's watched. Would Jing also have seen and learned from them?

( Nowadays, her job is busier than ever, but in a strange contradiction, Jing has been around even more...almost as if she knew most of the people whom Suki used to hang around are gone. )

But of course, Jing, who handles everything with a light touch, insists on making a choice. That, Suki can empathize with. There is only so much time for one to deliberate before the waiting becomes the choice. And Suki?

Doesn't have the luxury of time. Especially not in her job.

She points to the one on the right. "I like the hearts but–" She pouts, exasperated. "I need them to look at me as an equal. I'll look more like a kid if I wear the other one."

[stillresolved]

continued from here! / @ptternminds

BEFORE THE BLACK KNIGHT, BEFORE ALFRED AND MYUNGDAE, SHE WAS A CYNIC. Sort of. One too many times getting burned by well, everything ( there's her father, there's her mother, old before her time, there's Sarah Jane and her falling, falling, and falling and– ), makes you tougher. Warier of the world. Maybe even insistent in her isolation. If they can't reach you, they can't hurt you, can they?

That's how she used to think.

And then she met Myungdae and Alfred. Myungdae who refuses to keep complacent, keeps on seeking different, better answers than the ones given and Alfred who might not know everything, but gives blankets, opportunities, and coffee anyways. How could she keep away in the presence of such gentleness?

And how can she remain despondent when there are people to feed, people to help ( with their computers, never their health, god, she still gets queasy when Alfred and Myungdae have fresh wounds ) and dishes to wash? Once upon a time, her teacher, a Buddhist monk said that everyone wants to save the world, but no one wants to help mom do the dishes. 

Nell thinks she finally understands what he meant.

 "I...I don't know," she admits. Because it's a question she asks herself too often: at the end of the day, is this supposed to change anything? Because there will always be people who are abused by the systems, people who are hungry, people who need, deserve better lives. If no one gets left behind, then how can they possibly help everyone?

Does Jing think about that too? Beyond the feather light touch and smiles, does it, life, ever weigh down on her? Maybe Nell has thought too little of her for showing too little upfront. 

( Myungdae told her once that it was her sincerity that kept them afloat; sure, he might give purpose, and Alfred might have the means, but she made it mean something. If their heart was not in it, then what was the point of starting in the first place? Ironically, it's that sincerity that perhaps has made Nell blind in the first place because she could not understand why anyone would be anything but genuine. )

"I can't tell you; it just kinda...happened to me? One minute I was living my life in London and then, I was here and there were people who needed me. I didn't want to abandon them." So she didn't. "That was the first time in a while that I could breathe easy again." And maybe she is being too presumptuous here with Jing, just as she has been with everything else she knows about Jing, but she takes her hand. Lightly. She'll ask more about Jing from now on. Try to actually listen more too and read beyond the ethereal expressions. Nell smiles, if not a tad roguishly. "It's addictive once you get it. You won't want to ever go back to way things were before."

A sheepish laugh. "At least, that's what I think. Sounds kinda dumb, huh?"

[uroborosymphony]

               @ptternminds sent:

"There are eternal flames in Australia," Sarang twirls the wilted roses between her fingers. She'd picked them up somewhere hours ago, found an odd fascination with a bouquet thrown out for reaching what Sarang would describe only as another stage of another kind of beauty. "They say it's thousands of years old. I would have named it after you, had I discovered it first," the wilted roses, of course, are no match for the ancient beauty walking by her side. It's odd, how tranquil Sarang's soul becomes, when next to Calista, someone she met as enemy, as only equal opponent. But it's true. Her soul rests. "I suggest we visit," she introduces next, halting the Lamia in her step with a hand around her wrist. Her fingers tighten, an odd contrast in desperation, to the way she maintains her smile, trying to convince Calista, every day, to find a will to live in Sarang if nowhere else. "We could leave right now. Pretend to have never existed at all, and exist in peace there." ((😌💝))

Calista pauses her steps, feeling the warmth of Sarang's hand around her wrist. Her gaze drifts from Sarang's fingers to the wilted roses, their delicate petals curling in a final dance before they crumble to dust. There is a strong allure in Sarang's words, in the way she speaks of ancient yet eternal flames, forgotten places, and the offer of existing together forever. "You would have? Mm. I am not a thousand years old yet, Beloved," Calista speaks, her voice carrying the weight of time. Yet as the words leave her lips, she realizes... one day, she will be. This past January, she and Sarang marked her 600th year with a celebration in their cabin in the woodsd. If she does not find a way to die as she has long wished, a thousand years will come sooner than she dares imagine. Her eyes always soften when they meet Sarang's. Perhaps also, it is a way for Sarang to say she wishes Calista will reach her thousand years old, with her. "An eternal flame," she murmurs, her voice like the whisper of autumn leaves. "Now that I ponder it, after wandering the world and unraveling its secrets, it seems almost inconceivable that such a flame has escaped my notice." She gently laces her fingers with Sarang's, feeling the steady pulse of life beneath her touch. "To vanish, to dwell in peace in a foreign land... It is a dangerous temptation when speaking by you, Huntress," she says, a gentle smile playing upon her lips. "Could it truly be? To simply... exist there, unburdened by the shadows of our pasts?" Her gaze searches Sarang’s, as if seeking reassurance in those depths. "When my eyes meet yours, it is a siren’s call I find most difficult to resist." A silence falls between them, Calista’s thoughts swirling like the wind. How is it that in Sarang’s presence, the centuries seem less a burden. Never has she wished to live as she does now, standing beside this fierce, tender soul that is her lover's, hers, Sarang. Yet with that wish comes a fear—what is this yearning that stirs within her? This desire to cling to life, when for so long she simply wanted death? "If we go," she continues, her voice taking on the cadence of a time long past, each word carefully chosen, "if we forsake all that has come before, it can't be for a mere moment. It shall be for as long as the flames endure, for as long as your heart desires it." She hesitates, her gaze turning inward, questioning. "But I wonder... will I have the strength to embrace this newfound yearning? To live, truly live, when I never fully knew how to?"

[stillresolved]

jing. → WELL ISN’T THAT AN INTERESTING RESPONSE? It’s like watching a LEGOS tower build up piece by piece, little by little– from macabre to saccharine, Jing ( but that doesn’t seem to actually be her name, does it? ) builds her mask once more, molten metal hardening into steel.

Only those with something to hide would react accordingly. 

It just makes Felicity want to know more in this case. Not because she cares, but well, the more you know, the better. Call it the scientist in her, the need to probe and understand when the chance arises.

That, and it’s easier to decide then, if this woman will be an enemy or a friend. Or neither.

“You’re quoting that Spiderman Comic, aren’t you? Either that or The Art of War by Sun Tzu.” Not that Felicity has actually read either, but she’s heard her boyfriend mention the latter once. He told her it wasn’t worth reading more than once: the world doesn’t have to be that way if it didn’t want to.

“Odd. That’s not exactly the quote I would associate with what you’ve said." Not at least the way she said it. "Sounds more like those knives aren't exactly going to used for good, if you ask me."

The silence Sarang drapes over the two of them is like a blank space waiting to be filled. All she needs to do is choose the coloured pencil and whether she'll stick to drawing inside the lines or not.

There's something almost comical about the way Sarang stops and stares. Her mouth twists. The smile maintains itself on shaky legs, a thin line more becoming of the white boys who realize they don't know how to hit on her when she approaches them to get to someone else.

Her sigh is heavy as she dismisses, the voice imbued into it high. Jing speaks at a higher pitch than Sarang, it's grating in more ways than one.

"Just something I read once somewhere... I think... hm, I think it was..." she taps her finger against her chin, looks up as she pretends to gather her thoughts. She doesn't like the sharp wit in her conversation partner's eyes. Laying Jing on thicker in response to the presence of a smarter woman is usually counterproductive... but almost instinctive.

A knee-jerk. Sarang is nothing but a trapped animal.

"... With great power comes great responsibility?" she fumbles on purpose, smiling sweetly. This is the first time she actually feels like she can't cheat or disinterest her way out. "... Right?"

Be nice, please? her smile seems to suggest.

I don't fucking like you, her eyes seem to counter.