#wd:imugi

[thewickedxrp]

             WELCOME CHO MISU

                                                         ⁠TO THE PROMISE LAND

DETAILS

age / age they appear: 132 / 24  occupation: unemployed/farmhand group: none

PERSONALITY

LIFE LINE. that short, uncertain line that starts at the dip between your thumb and forefinger and ambles over and down your palm---no, look closer and see how it breaks in two places, how that grand arc is really three lines pretending to be one.

you’re resilient. you are not strong, you are not hardened, but you are capable of enduring, and this is both your gift and curse. you will live many lives. you already have, haven’t you? survival, i know. to survive, you had to have so many lives. but how many times have you died and been born again? the tears in your line aren’t neat; see how each edge is subtly frayed, like the end of a thread cut but not tied, like every minuscule version of you that continues to live on in the back of your head as a symbol of---hope?

you hope that you might be them again. you hope that you could be soft again, gentle again, but those versions of you are dead and you know, you know, that these remnants are only ghosts. still, you live. you live with the hope, if it makes it more bearable. but you live, and you want to live, and you will live. you are willing to pay the cost to do so.

HEAD LINE. that graceful but turbulent arc that runs from the length of your index finger to your ring finger. like the edges of your life line, it begins frayed, a cluster of fine little scratches that remind you of grass blades, pulled from the earth and teeming from a clenched fist. they coalesce into a line eventually but it’s far from distinct, instead patterned with small circles and chain links all the way to the end.

they say this foretells poor mental fortitude. it must appear to be the truth when you spent so many days with only one hand in the world, the other clinging to the vision they fed you of a pure, harmonious world that they said you were helping create. those seeds of poison they served you on a plate mustn’t have helped, either, for the scars they left on your soft throat and softer mind.

your mind. sometimes now you feel that it’s as numerous as those chain links. your devotion and your repulsion, your rage and your mercy, you feel they shouldn’t belong, and yet there they sit side by side on that long chain of you.

and you hold yourself together. you’re vigilant, even if the world thinks otherwise. you are calculated, purposeful. no matter what’s in your head, what they’ve stuffed there and what they’ve taken and what has grown in the wasteland they ravaged, you know who you are, even if others never truly will.

HEART LINE. it is unmistakable. see? it starts beneath your center finger and slopes deep before finishing off the other side of your palm. see its resemblance to a well, a bowl, or a hand that is cupped, ready to receive.

so you are devout. your god is shattered and infinitesimal, and she is everywhere you look---from the vial that you saved of your river’s crimson water, to the nightly rituals you continue to perform for yourself, to the memories of flower-weaving and blood-letting that you continue to preserve.

are you an exposed nerve, and not just your heart; you, you, you with your scales for armor that you would shed for anything that touches you, you who invites touch even as your god warns you that not all hands that reach out are good.

it’s all you know. it’s all you know how to believe: 

you were born for the knife, but you have grown to love it. these dats, you offer your heart out of your own palms.

if you must be destined for the altar, as the gift the kill the sacrifice, then let it be an altar of your choosing. 

HISTORY

a small riverlet branches off of the nakdong river and courses through a portion of the sobaek mountains. near the turn of the 20th century, a drilling operation knocked minerals loose from the mountain, including iron and clay that tinted the water red. formed by what may have been a plea for help, an imugi formed in the water, red as the river it was created to protect.

downstream, the river fed through a secluded village of witches and werewolves who found their water supply suddenly tainted. illnesses began to plague the old and the young, costing lives, and the superstitious community, grew to believe that they had been cursed. the discovery of an imugi in a fisherman’s net one day reinforced their beliefs.

the imugi was taken in by the elders and named minhui. however, sheltered and so far removed from reality, the villagers did not understand that they had found an imugi, instead believing that they had been sent a divine sign.

no, not only that. they believed a myriad of things about minhui — that it was the embodiment of misfortune, that she was a god who had been sent to save them, that he was a poor child possessed by a devil. all seemed like terrifying possibilities. to appease whatever it was, they built a temple at the heart of their village, then the first of many altars where they would lay sacrifices in hopes of purifying their river again.

when minhui took on a human form, they were worshipped as both god and vessel. their serpent form became the deity that the villagers prayed to for mercy. minhui was raised under their watchful eye, taught the villagers’ beliefs before it even learned about itself. it learned to value the villagers’ sacrifices and its role in the community — and it learned to lie still on the altar whenever they called for a scale from its back. it learned to be glad for the cure it could provide for its believers, to understand that their sacrifice warranted a sacrifice from her too.

when it presented as a human, he could pretend, even if just for a brief moment, that he was just like anyone else in the village, simply afflicted by a curse or an illness. that the beast they worshipped, that thing that he became when he slipped into the river, was something else that lived in him, a separate voice that spoke in his ear and a separate entity that seized control when he slipped into a serpent's form.

still, even when he looked like the humans, spoke like the humans, and behaved like the humans, the humans regarded him with fear or, at their worst, pity. if she wasn’t god, then he was the lamb brought for slaughter.

after a century of worship and sacrifice, love and loathing, one was bound to begin believing in it all, too.

the outsiders came months ago. a small, haggard group, they came asking for respite in the village. the elders opened their gates magnanimously and helped nurse many back to full health. for weeks, the outsiders lived among them, even establishing a rapport with many of the villagers — even the creature that they kept hidden in the temple.

in truth, the outsiders knew something that the villagers didn’t, and they had come to topple the village and route the cult that had ruled it for centuries.

in the dead of night, they freed all those whom they believed to be victims. a struggle broke out, and amidst the chaos, a flame was sparked. minhui awoke to a burning village and something loosing him from the temple, urging him to run, to find the island, to find sanctuary. 

as with all things later, minhui never truly learned where to place the blame for that night. even as he stumbled across the country, clawing his way to the only place whose name he knew aside from his home, he never came to terms with the events of that that night, nor the irreversible changes it inflicted on his life.

he still hasn’t. it has been months now and he has a new name and supposedly a new freedom, yet he continues to clutch a small vial of his river’s water and pray to the same god that holds all of his fury for him. she shrieks for justice, for both the hand that held the sacrificial blade and the hand that brought down the walls of his home, and for the first time, the burden of quelling the beast falls on misu alone.

so he follows. what she desires, he has devoted himself to fulfilling.

never mind that the line continues to thin and thin. never mind that some days, the desires only feel like his own.

never mind that he and the god and the monster have begun to turn at the sound of the same name. 

[thewickedxrp]

             WELCOME GEUM TAEYANG

                                                         ⁠TO THE PROMISE LAND

DETAILS

age / age they appear: 1003 / 26  occupation: aquarist, park ranger group: none

PERSONALITY

enveloped by a hazy mist of uncertainty, a lack of words that thrusts him into the morose sanctity of ambivalence. for he is taciturn, words do him no use as a piercing gaze monitors with care. every blinking motion drawing a gentle breath against his lips and corners curling to a distasteful itch. he is as merciful as he is malevolent, as forgiving as he is spiteful– a bittersweet after taste that lingers just enough to satiate the craving but only for a moment. then, he burns with a fiery crimson, subdued by the reminder of bygone times. slither of moments where he is reminded of the cooling air that gently caresses at his brow. the tranquil air that embraces his lungs, filled with the freshness of a fulfilled life. the mirage fades, shatters right before him, fulfilment dissipates before his eyes all too quickly and so too, does his humanity.

though, his hostility is but a shield. the costume that colours him, that dilutes his qualities– all but a mechanism to deal with the existential angst that lathers his insides. beneath the layers, lies a gentle soul, flickering with hope and it materialises into the pathetic attempts of being cordial. he tries and he tries and it’s evident in the way that he carries himself, the stern expression breaks easily as eyes cast upon those most important to him. and he is fiercely loyal, a willingness to sacrifice everything in turn for nothing. though, a shift pulls over the once kind gleam of deepened gold, tainting it like charcoal across silk– now, dead eyes glaring back, a reminder that the stars won’t always glimmer.

HISTORY

the river becomes his home. at the early signs of the rising sun, the golden glimmer of a newfound guard of the geum river descends with a colourful beginning. glazed by the golden shimmers of the skies, scales too illustrious that they penetrate through the water's surface. he could have easily been mistaken for something more majestic as the deity of the people. and here lies the godless sun, a child of serpents and a slave to the rivers.

he spends his formative centuries observing those that litter on the perimeter of the river, tiny shadows that waver in the distance as inquisitive eyes are shared upon both parties. a subtle squint as he emerges from the water's surface, scales dazzling against the gentle rays as even gentler digits graze against his skin. he eventually grows accustomed to the humans, he finds them endearing and generous through the offerings they give him. trust is spewed, drowning out the ignorance of a young imugi, naivety bleaches his vision of all distrust and all he can see is through rose coloured panels.

he doesn't stray far from his home, a fear that binds him to the river but eventually, it leads him astray. a myth, they tell him. whispers and murmurs that spread, those who he had trusted begin to turn their backs on him. vicious, were the breaths that lacerated his skin– depraved, were the actions that tortured him against his will. autonomy, lost to the people he had so readily handed his trust to. scales extracted with so much aggression that it corners him, threatens to unleash a part of himself that he was not aware he was capable of.

a blade raises by the hand of the once trusted allies that he had thought to be benevolent, carving with cruel gentleness and it chips away at his horns. divinity tainted but it stops just as suddenly as it had begun. the fear that takes over him, not because he had been scarred but because he had committed the unthinkable. the calming blue had been his home, had been a place of refuge and the symbol of a saving grace within the dark abyss of illness. humans flocked to the river to be blessed, with hopes of rejuvenation after a period of misery and torment. yet, here they were, subjecting him to their mercy and in return, mercilessness strangled their last breath.

before any recovery can be done, war breaks and the rivers dry up. hopelessness ravages him and a sense of futility washes over his charred limbs. this time, hostility envelops him as he ventures out into the wilderness, outside of the comfort of his home– forced to embrace the enigmas of human culture.

soon, he finds his footing in jeju. finds a home that he so bitterly accepts and finds refuge in anything but those pesky humans. he grows more and more distrustful every passing day, centuries pass and he evolves– but nothing changes as his path is lead astray the moment he had been subjected to humanity's minacious acts of greed. though, upon learning the island's history, one could label him as indifferent, as his allegiance lies with those who target the same foes as he– the ones who had deprived him of his dignity.

[thewickedxrp]

             WELCOME MUN SOHUI

                                                         ⁠TO THE PROMISE LAND

DETAILS

age / age they appear: 1050 / 31 occupation: hallasan national park ranger, part-time barista group: none

PERSONALITY

Kind, Tentative and Apprehensive, Sohui’s guardedness comes from the fact that as an ancient imugi, she has gone through much of what she hopes and wishes other imugi never will have to experience. Due to her past naivety and perception that humans were good through and through, Sohui’s lack of perception in being able see the greed in man led her to be imprisoned in her hometown of jeju, right where she was originally born, at the Hallasan Mountain. Even after years of having her scales and one of her horns forcefully ripped and taken from her, she still bears little to no resentment towards humans, just a slight wariness. Some might say that that’s naïve of her, but actually, it was more so that of a past where she remembers humans being kind towards her—memories of being offered treats and offerings, worshipped as a young mountain goddess had made Sohui affectionate towards humans, allowing her to take on a human form more easily than others, and to find it difficult in holding grudges in particular against them. In fact, Sohui still remains a kind soul despite all that she’s went through, remembering more of the little favours that others had done out of kindness to her, rather than the grudges.

Sohui has only recently been relieved of captivity in the year 2014, having been captured during the final years of World War 2 whilst Korea was still under Japanese rule in 1945. Captured and put on display for the bourgeois and the rich, her scales and horns were taken forcefully from her each time more people came to see her in captivity. Eventually, due to the chaotic times of war, Sohui was left behind, forgotten in the depths of Hallasan Mountain, her captivity only maintained by the rich families that could afford it. Those families ventured out of Jeju, and eventually, with her patchwork of scale-like scars on her skin and an incomplete horn, turned from a beautiful, wanted imugi that was seen as a mark of prestige into an unwanted object that had gone past it’s prime. Time passed and slowly the funding stopped. Completely unaware that the Eorimok River that was her birthplace had already dried up, Sohui’s terror of the people that had captured her and lack of knowledge of the gradually changing world, a result of having been kept captive, led her to unconsciously imprison herself, figuratively and physically right where she was held captive. It wasn’t until recently that Sohui wandered out of her captivity—and even still, something still holds her back and ties her to the Eorimok River. Others see a dried riverbed, and an imugi with no purpose, intent nor direction left. But in Sohui’s mind, the Eorimok River still runs, lustrously, beautifully, and endlessly. And thus, because of that, she stays.

HISTORY

She awakens first into existence at the faint sound of offerings and worship.

Tiny, rheumy eyes that open a crack as strange scents of humans wander into the place that she calls home, lazily bathing in the water, the silver glow of her scales pulsing as the water in the Eorimok River as it ran down the tracks of the Hallasan Mountain.

Ceaselessly.

Time—flows in a strange way to her, meaningless and effortless, the rising of the sun and setting of the moon the markers that held no meaning of days that passed to her. (Years later, she would learn that humans called this night, and day. Then months, then years. That there were four different seasons that exist. One where the flowers would bloom again, one where heat made the waters of the river hot and unbearable to stay. One where leaves would turn colours and fall off their branches—and finally, one where a world full of colours would turn a pale, pristine white, and grey. And suddenly, time would make sense, again.)

The first time she feels a touch of a human is when she’s barely grown from her serpent form. Warm hands touch the snout of her nose reverently, dark eyes wide and curious—a small form of a human that she’s always seen around the mountains—until the larger version of it came round and whisked the smaller human away from her snout, a puff of hot air against their fingers.

The human bows, kneels, and speaks words that she fails to understand. (Humans are such complicated creatures, the words of someone flows into her ears years from now, familiar eyes bright and a smile upon his lips. Sometimes I wish that we were a little less complicated, wish that we were Imugis that guarded the world of nature. Like you.)

But still, the universal timbre of emotion reaches her, and the panic of the human is conveyed, just as the plate of snacks and sweet treats is laid before her.

She would understand that they called her a mountain god years later. When she learned human speech and no longer relied on her intuition to understand them.

She is worshiped. Even with the lack of communication between them, and the lack of understanding, the plates, treats and prostration upon the ground are more than enough for her to understand the worry of the humans that visit her.

There wasn’t enough water for their crops.

People would starve.

And starving would lead to death.

Her eyes glance over the young human child standing next to the couple, a faint memory of warm humanoid hands, wrapped with the scent of imugis touching her as they released her into the embrace of the river.

Little Favours, the imugi couple whispers.

Little Blessings. Be kind where you need to be.

Her mouth opens, and the river rushes forth slowly but steadily, while the humans behind her crumple to their knees in relief.

…

She doesn’t remember how old she is exactly when she first turns into her human form.

Time is of no consequence to her after all—all Imugis do is guard their rivers, sleep and wake.

But the one that finds her in her human form first is the young human child—once tiny enough to put his hand upon her snout, now old enough to tower over her, all lanky limbs and bright smiles, and silk clothes that replaced those roughened ones.

He chances upon her in her river, naked as day and sleepy confusion still rubbed from her eyes, turns red and flees from her place, the basket of sweet treats dropped to the ground, regretfully scattered as she slides out from the river, unsteady upon her freshly human feet to pick one of the fallen treats.

The boy that’s now a man brings back with him his parents the next day, face red as she walks out to greet them, words still unfamiliar upon her tongue as he thrusts a set of female clothes her way.

They take her back to their house, now no longer a farmhand’s quarters, but a luxurious mansion, and spend the day teaching her all their human ways.

It barely takes a month for her to learn their speech.

Even less for how to walk, climb and run the way they do.

Do you have a name? The boy asks, ears red and eyes bright.

She pauses, lips lightly parted as she tilts her head.

Little Blessings. The vague memory of her parents whispering as they reverently push her into Eorimok’s waters, her ears just barely catching the end of her name.

Mun Sohui, she says, eyes fixed upon the flower he had plucked for her in her hands. Little Blessings.

…

Fate makes her life cruel by letting her understand human emotions a little later than others.

The boy that she realizes years later that she loves marries another, and she leaves the beautiful house he calls home to return to her precious river, a searing ache in her chest that she would not understand tilll 50 years later.

He brings to her his children, and she watches them grow from tiny children to young adults, her face unchanging whilst his own aged.

Let our family guard you for the rest of our days. He whispers to her upon his deathbed, alone in his bed, her hands clasped in his. Don’t be sad when I leave, Little Blessings.

He leaves behind a legacy of children and a wife that stared at her with a burning hate, and she leaves once more, a sick feeling in her chest as she turns to her river, discarding her human form to bask in its embrace.

…

She learns the cruelty of humanity when that man’s children are well and grown. Greed–has always been man’s bane of existence, and she spends an entire month on the run, running and hiding in the world of Hallasan that she’s always known, never able to stray too far away from the Eorimok River.

Until, she’s no longer able to run–and collapses right where they need her to be, inches from her precious river, a net cast over her prone body and whispers in her ears.

…

Pain is the understanding of loss, Sohui thinks.

But when the first knife slices against her skin and rips her scales off her back as she howls, she thinks that she’s stupid to have thought pain to be merely that.

Pain–is the gut wrenching agony of her horn sheared off her head and offered to a rich man that leers at her human form, who’s paid millions just for a glance at the imugi behind the glass.

Pain–is when the children and their children of the man she once loved and watched grow take a knife to her scales for a taste of power and to satisfy their greed.

Pain, is having to watch those silvery scales glitter under the sunlight that she could never see nor bask in as earrings dangling upon their children’s ears.

Pain is…

Desecration. Loss.

Of walking for the first time in many years outside to Eorimok, and seeing that once lustrous river a bed of solid stones.

Not the understanding of it, she realizes that a little too belatedly as the grass slowly grows over the surroundings of the abandoned cave they sealed her in.

She never leaves in the end, even without a river to belong to, even without a sense of purpose, always left behind and forgotten.

[thewickedxrp]

             WELCOME JEONG SOOYUN

                                                         ⁠TO THE PROMISE LAND

DETAILS

age / age they appear: 716 / 26 occupation: haenyeo diver group: none

PERSONALITY

She was meek in her young age, playing among the rivers and other Imugi she came across. Some would say she was carefree until her own kind began to be hunted. Sooyun turned observant, quiet and careful of who she talked to, even when venturing into the human world. Much of her time was spent as a serpent where she slowly learned the language of the humans around her. As she got older, Sooyun’s perception of the world began to change her, while still cautious she allowed a kind nature to those she encountered, a smile that sparkled like the waves she created. Other Imugi would occasionally come by to trade and admire how she watched over her rivers, protecting them from humans and other creatures alike.

Coming to Jeju Island, she has kept most of her soft demeanor and quiet nature but mostly stays secluded, away from everyone else. She is easy to make conversation with but her guard is always up, ready to defend herself if need be. Locals know her as a sweet young woman who helps out when she can when she is not diving with the other women. The last century on this island has toughened her skin and the pierce of her gaze when things begin to turn south. She has learned to protect herself and will do anything to keep herself and the few she holds close safe.

HISTORY

Sooyun didn't have a name for the first couple centuries of her life, all she remembers is the flow of water across her skin. Following her small river that flowed into what is now called the Geum River. It was all she knew as she swam her little river up and down the currents. She loved when new streams and creeks would form after heavy rainfall since it meant she could explore more of the land. It was her duty to protect the rivers and lands that passed through for all creatures to survive on. Once in a while there would be humans that splashed about but it didn’t become so common until centuries later as they built their kingdoms and roamed the lands. Sooyun was still able to travel as she pleased but it meant to be more in secrecy with her human form, casually walking through villages, observing their nature. Her rivers soon began to change, first it was blood, then dirt, as if the human didn’t care about the water she lived in. Then there were rumors of beings other than humans hunting her kind of horns and scales. Luckily she was still young and did not appeal to the hunt but the centuries have shown her of the lives her kind has lost. So she stayed hidden, hardly venturing out and collecting anything that seemed worthy floating down her currents. But as more centuries went by, her streams and creeks began to dry out, her own river grew smaller every year. Then a war broke out. More humans came to her lands, started building and “damming” up rivers for human use.

It was like in a blink of an eye her rivers were all gone she was now free of her guidance and protection to the rivers. But that was all she knew and breathed her whole life. Sooyun was younger than most Imugi and as far as she knew, still hadn’t grown into her dragon form, though she was showing signs. Sure she mingled in human life and knew the basics but in reality she was lost and didn’t know what to do. 

That’s when she heard about Jeju Island from a Gumiho she had crossed paths within the forest surrounding Busan, a place for someone like them. They called it a safe haven for those running or looking for a new home, and it was surrounded by water. Sooyun was scared to go but the Gumiho gave her some courage, and even the name that she carries with her, Jeong Sooyun. For almost 80 years, Sooyun has lived on the south side of Jeju Island in solitude, in most recent years, disguising herself as a relative of a local “haenyeo” or sea woman diver that wants to continue the family tradition. 

It’s a shame she only got to enjoy the peacefulness of Jeju for a short time before it was evident the situation on the island was not as it seemed. Though she kept to the south side of the island, alone in her little home, there were talks of clans beginning to clash among the other supernatural creatures, internal and external, human hunters becoming aware of their presence. It was bad enough that it seemed her kind was already a rare sighting, and on occasion still hunted, but now she had to protect herself not just from the other creatures but humans as well. She has seen enough war to know what it brings but Sooyun has learned over the centuries to stay out of wandering eyes and to be ready for anything.