trinxlisa

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

Prior to this, there had been an unshakeable gnawing at his heart that promised to cease only when Kikwang swallowed his pride and called on her. He attributes this motivation—which led to the current odd, but not unpleasant, scenario—to his growing curiosity and subsequent need to sate it; but more importantly, the leader had been plagued by an unexplainable feeling of worry for Lisa’s well-being that threatened to swallow him whole, and he was overcome by a desperate need to determine, with his own critical view, that she was in good health. Admittedly, he had initially believed that if he avoided said sentiment, it would eventually diminish into nonexistence; but having given into it now, Kikwang is almost sure that he has never possessed the strength to ignore her. It is why he is here, no matter the magnitude of disrespect she brazenly shows, and it is why he is determined to keep her alive—to keep her safe—no matter how skilled she has shown to be at weaving the sparks of his ire into imperiling blazes.

It is through this that the leader comes to the revelation that there are ways in which Lisa works that Kikwang fails to comprehend. In fact, he quickly subscribes to the belief that she is a mystery that he could spend his entire life dissecting, but still fall short.

Why, there is the odd hint of a smile that graces her lovely features, and though it lasts but a moment, it burns bright in the back of his dark orbs. For the life of him, he is unable to place the reason for the brimming happiness she seems to feel, but then again, the only other person who has ever dared—or had the motive—to direct a smile towards his direction is Miyako; and even then, the grin of his ghostly lover is simply a sugary veil that poorly hides the malice beneath. Lisa’s smile is innocent, devoid of all ill intent, and though he frowns in the haze of complete and utter confusion, he cannot deny that there is a budding longing to see it once more.

(Like a fool, he pushes the feeling aside and promptly ignores it, as though he has not learnt his lesson: for a person like Lisa, whose presence and feelings inflicted is thoroughly intrusive, avoidance is, to any solution, the key that never fits.)

In his haste to advance to simpler topics, he directs his question, and he is patient as he waits for her to respond. Albeit, he is momentarily distracted by the large movement she makes, in which she shifts as she hides her small feet under her clothed thighs, and the supposedly graceless but oddly endearing act brings about a quirk in the corner of his full lips, but it is so brief that it cannot quite be placed as either the beginnings of a smile or a frown. He bites down on his molars as he forces himself to refocus on the question he had posed, impatience beginning to bud at the base of his heart—though his frustration can more accurately be attributed to the confusion he feels at his own person—but thankfully, she responds to his query just in time to provide him the distraction he so craves.

Except her answer does little to soothe his budding anger, and as he is flooded with images of her bruised cheeks in the familiar imprint of hard knuckles anew, he speaks purposefully in a low timbre, determined to rectify her false view, “do not speak to me about worth, for there does not exist a worse alternative in sight than the one you had chosen.”

He leans forward in his seat as he further stresses, “you do not die unless I permit you to. Should I choose to make a decree, even the devil is helpless against it, if such is my intent.”

His eyes never stray from her own, and he keeps her under his heated gaze in challenge, so she is aware that every word he has uttered holds not a sliver of hesitation. It is vital that she understands this, and so he does not bother conjuring up another question; it is wholly up to her to alter the heaviness of the current ambience.

When she speaks again—this time, in a still, small voice—he perks his ears to catch every word, and though he is not so fond of her dialect, the unfamiliar tone in which she uses is akin to an exquisite melody. She talks of her power—alludes to her knowledge of her ability to be immune to him—and it causes the cages of his heart to rattle. There is the primitive anger that bubbles from his core, because such is the natural reaction upon catching wind of an individual who is immune to his crippling power, and yet he is unable to locate the want to slip thick fingers into his favoured weapon and slide its sharp blades into the alabaster flesh of her slim waist. But she proves herself to be as adept at soothing his anger as she is inspiring it, for the tinkle of laughter that leaves her plush, cherry lips sings his ire to sleep, and her own heated gaze that matches his in intensity leaves him with a deep craving for more.

(More of her smiles, more of her laughter, more of the things that rattle the axis on which his world spins. More of her, or perhaps just more of an intangible item that he cannot place.)

Perhaps this had been the effect that Miyako had attempted to draw from him, but try as she might, she had never quite done Lisa—the goddess in which she was fashioned after—much justice.

He takes a moment to regain his composure, and another to come up with an adequate response that he believes will sate her curiosity. His lips part momentarily  in an effort to answer her query, but the words die in his throat, and so he snaps his full lips shut as he averts his gaze from her own. The question is not the easiest to answer, not because he is unsure as to why he believes he owns the right to terminate her life, but because he doesn’t know where to start.

“The night that marked the beginning of our acquaintance, I had been determined to steal your life, but instead, you were spared from my weapon’s bloodlust for reasons I cannot name… other than the fact that your beauty had calmed my raging storms,” he reluctantly admits, and there is a short pause after he says this, before his next words spill in a rush, “it was a foolish mistake that I later aimed to rectify, and I had intended to steal the rights to your life from the remains of your previous owner.”

Kikwang grits his teeth in anger at the memory of the unsightly man, and so his next words are delivered in a spit, “but I had been too unrushed in claiming what was mine, for I did not know the fool harboured plans to sell you to another. Tanaka proved to be an inconvenience, so there I ended his legacy.”

“Your image has haunted me ever since,” he alludes to his dear Miyako, and as he utters his confession, he can almost hear wisps of her tormenting song, to which his eyelids fall shut as he grits his teeth in what seems to be agony. But he quickly banishes it from his memory by parting his eyelids to meet Lisa’s gaze once more, and a frown works its way into his sharp features as he declares, “do you not see? I will sever the hand of anyone who dares touch you, and I will gouge the eyes of anyone who dares look upon you; for there is no one more worthy of being the subject of your downfall than I. Likewise, there is no one more worthy of running a blade through my heart than you, Lisa.”

Lisa was a bit taken back at the harsher tone he took on after all the civil dialogue they managed to get through. Enough to make her look back up at him, the smallest of quirks to her eyebrow that suggested she was confused as to why he reacted in such a way. But she’s quickly learned that it isn’t an interaction with Kikwang without him asserting dominance, or control even on such a little spectrum when he’s not even being challenged. She was so focused on his delivery that she couldn't take the message for what it was, and it was just as sweet, no matter how tense it came from his lips. Because his words drowned in sugar, she could brush off his approach, appreciating how strongly he feels about her, about keeping her alive, regardless if he feels he’s the one that’s going to be her demise.

The most she’s taking from this conversation told her he didn’t plan on having it happen anytime soon, and that was enough for her to move on from it, his answer satiating her curiosity, however, his way of thinking would never be understood. Him leaning forward induced her to instinctively lean back, only a slight tilt, but present nonetheless and she listened intently to his words, knowing he meant them, knowing he didn’t say them thoughtlessly, and though, she couldn’t agree less, (her life belongs solely to her and fate), she respectfully nodded, knowing any other reaction would only rouse him further. If she wanted their conversation to continue, she simply had to bite her tongue and let him speak his own mistruths -- the conversation only remained tense until he calmed, which didn’t take long at all.

She liked to watch him, she found out. They were very different. She had asked her own question, and he took all the time in the world to answer it. She almost envied the way he was so high up in rank that the world would stop for him if he willed it to, and wait for when he was ready for it to start again. Naturally, Lisa was conditioned to speak immediately when spoken to, to avoid eye contact, and though she’s tried many times to reverse this behavior, it’s still present. Kikwang not only was his own person but he was controlling the masses. Such a small observation, he had only taken a moment to think, but it was just another thing that set them miles apart.

Lisa wished this conversation could be over now. Not because she wasn’t enjoying it but because she looked like a complete idiot. She was listening to him, she was, but the moment he talked about the beauty she was convinced she didn’t think she genuinely had, her body naturally heated, making her cheeks turn a rosy color -- she could feel her ears burning, and once again, a shy smile was fought, but this time she was almost able to win, if not for a small quirk of plump lips, she sunk into the couch shyly, her small hands covering her cheeks on either side of her face, avoiding contact with him once again as she waited for her cheeks to cool, but she continued to listen to him, nevermind she was due to die soon from the excitement of simply hearing that she was beautiful to him. She’s heard it a million times, but from Kikwang, she knew it had rung true -- she hated to admit he solidified the opinion.

At hearing that Tanaka was dead at the hands of Kikwang, Lisa was pushed into many different emotions. Relief, admiration, disbelief, happiness. A sense of safety washed over her and it was a wonderful feeling. Previous to Kikwang’s confession, she thought the old man still breathed, and sometimes she worried he would drag her back to that house -- the worst place she ever had the displeasure to experience. And to hear of his death, and it sounds like it had happened little time after she escaped him, she was relieved that she had nothing to worry about all these years -- that he was no threat to her because of.. Kikwang. He was already slowly earning himself respect from her during their small talk, but now she’s seen him with a new hue. A color freshly made for just him. Not just purple, blue, red or green. It’s just -- different.  

Lisa just blinked at him for a while, after his small spiel. She didn’t understand it, but she was helplessly endeared by it. She simply didn’t understand the words, didn’t understand what they meant in relation to her, that her life meant that much to a man who quite possibly had little to live for, she pondered this but realized they were both being open, so once she picked her jaw up from the floor, she breathed deeply, and swallowed, gathering courage to look at him once again, “--but why are you so… ready to fight, kill for someone that doesn’t matter at all? What did I do for you to feel that way?”

if you ask me

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

It seems almost paradoxical for a beauty like Lisa to spin such venomous words with her pretty tongue and have them fall so gracelessly from her shapely lips. And yet, there is something so effortless about her offhand remarks, as though she fails to consider the context that makes up the backdrop of her every scenario before she speaks, and so, she snarks with regard for little else other than the first thought that pops into her head. It is a brief, passing thought, but Kikwang marvels at the fact that she is still alive today.

But it would be remiss of him to question the decision of the handful of others that have preceded him, not when he himself is firm in his decision to keep her safe from the hands of others as opposed to putting her to death by his own hands. Still, it is unnatural for him to experience others being so carelessly tactless when they are in his company, so he allows himself a brief second to shut his eyes and grit his molars in annoyance, but otherwise, he ignores her snide remark wherein she implies he is foolish for employing a woman like Hyuna.

It is a miracle, but it seems as though Kikwang is gradually getting tolerant to her brazen attitude the more he interacts with her. And though he doesn’t necessarily enjoy their odd conversations, he finds that he cannot bring himself to hate them, either.

So when she speaks, he does not regard her with irritability or give off the impression as though he is dragged into her proximity against her will, but instead, he narrows his eyelids as his dark orbs are fixated on the amber flecks of her irises, and he gives her his undivided attention, even if they are uttered in a dialect that brings about a grimace every now and then. He is not shocked by her confession that her captor is not equipped with their supernatural gifts, though he finds himself confused by the revelation. If the brute is as talentless as he is impulsive, then why is she so afraid of him? Though he knows he cannot liken her capabilities to the ones he believed Miyako to have, even then, judging by the way she had literally single-handedly taken down his trained men with the soft caress of her dainty fingers, Kikwang fails to see an alternative universe wherein she is unable to overpower an individual who is limited by human capabilities.

He watches her curiously as her head falls to her shoulder, and his gaze doesn’t leave her own, at least not until she finishes her sentence. Then, his eyes fall briefly to the seductive curve of her full lips before he turns his head from her entirely, his jaw locked due to a sudden burst of anger at her admission.

He supposes obsession would be an easy way to explain why so many are naturally offended by her, and yet so many choose to keep her alive. Kikwang briefly wonders if he, too, is subject to this obsession that the brute suffers from, and his mind thinks back to the many instances in which Miyako drapes her slim arms around his form.

Obsession.

He would’ve clenched his fists at the implication that he and the brute she fears are one and the same, had they not already tightened from the ire—and dare he say, possession—that flared from his core when she had admitted the truth of her captor’s feelings for her. But the anger is short-lived, leaving as quickly as it had come, and before long, he turns his head to bring her back into view as another question spills from his plump lips, “you believe I am so merciful, that I will spare those whom I loathe? I assure you: the basis of your belief is entirely fictional.”

There is a brief pause, lasting two—perhaps uncomfortably long—beats before he chooses to pose his next question, “if you are so fearful of him, and yet you do not believe him to be stronger—merely harsher in his treatment of you—then it makes little sense for you to plead for mercy on his behalf, when I have offered to do you the favour of eliminating the threat he poses. Do you believe I lack integrity, that I will not hold true to my word?”

Should she confess that she indeed does not trust him, Kikwang finds it oddly impossible to be offended by it. After all, it is becoming clear that the basis in which she has constructed her view of him seems to be awfully skewed, and he cannot help but find it frustrating as he fights to first uncover, then rectify her mistake.

At the admission of Kikwang not hating her, Lisa must admit it threw her for a loop -- she was very surprised. But what’s more surprising is that she expected an answer different. Kikwang didn’t look like the joking type, or someone who partook in situations that had futile outcomes, so why did she even entertain the idea that he would genuinely hate her, yet open up his home to her with little to no complaint, and even indulge her with conversation from time to time? Times like these showcased how empty her skull was, but if she dwelled on all the ignorance she often spews, she probably would be a lot more miserable than she already is. So, she chose not to and instead moved on to a new emotion. It was refreshing to know he didn’t loathe her as she had previously thought. 

She thought she had only been a chore for him to complete, an inconvenience he felt some sort of sympathy to aid to. But there was some connotation to his words that suggested she was more than just trash at his feet. She couldn’t gather a reason why he would be so lenient and understanding toward her, but it is far from her wanting to sabotage her own advantage. She fought a smile, his way with words was odd, though she knows he’s not by any means trying to charm her, they warmed her heart somewhat -- to clutch to the safety of knowing he doesn’t despise her was something she needed to hear. Notwithstanding her efforts, her mouth couldn’t help but form the smallest of smiles that she tried her best to hide but Kikwang was nothing if not observant, and his lurking eyes had probably caught it. She dropped it as soon as she could, hopefully before he realized he was the inducer.

She found herself opening up more to him in the moment. This admission pushing her to look at the male in a new light. Whereas before she closed herself up, and purposely tried to keep herself in the shadows, made sure their short, and to the point conversations remained that way throughout the past month, but now he has opened doors to new possibilities that Lisa had been happy to take. He seemed curious of her, and this is the most she had ever seen him interested in something, in her, beside that night. And she was going to eat the attention up, not entirely sure why this feeling overcame her through her chest. But she succumbed to it, and to add even more fuel to this new flame, she had things she wanted to ask him, too. She hoped he’d humor her.

But before she could get a question of her own out, he was asking another, and she paused for a moment to think, shifting in her seat position to cross her legs in his couch, her socked feet wiggling because of the cold, but tucked warmly beneath her thighs they would warm soon, and she faced him better, so he could see in her demeanor that she was ready to be more open and cooperative than she has been in the past. His question was hard to answer, but she spoke the truth, and admitted her true feelings instead of bothering with a fabricated version, “I stopped you because the big boss woulda’ got involved. There’s a whole line’a people in power in what I do, and it would’a been a mess, and I prob’ly woulda’ ended up dead in the en’, anyways. ‘Sides, I didn’ want them comin’ after you -- not for me. It wouldn’a been worth it.”

Having a calm conversation where dialogue was had on both ends was weird for her. A normal discussion has never been had between them where Lisa wasn’t crying or yelling. It was nice, to see Kikwang in a relaxed state. It got her really looking at his features and if anything he looked best this way. In the surroundings of his own home, slackened (well as loose as Kikwang could get), and taking what she has to say and not using his power or influence against her when she says something wrong. This new atmosphere prompted her to concede knowledge she’s over thought about since the start of their reunion.

“I remember you,” she randomly spoke, her voice soft, and much different than what either of them are used to, “We was in Japan, like six years ago. You was in the house -- you asked for me, and when I came you asked me ‘bout my powers. I tol’ you I ain’t know at the time and I didn’ but now I do. I don’ know why I pretended. I thought maybe if I faked like I didn’ know you that I woulda’ just went about my business no questions asked, but, it didn’ go that way,” Lisa voiced and she couldn’t help but chortle softly, their situation so far in her new future that she could have the smallest of laughs about how ridiculous it had been at the time. 

She played with her fingers for a moment in the space in her lap, conjuring up new thoughts to present to him as they raced through her brain. She had a lot of questions for him, but only one banged against her skull the loudest, something that caused her much confusion, and she couldn’t shake her curiosity, “-- that night--” she looked at him in a way that she assumed he would catch on to which night she was referring to exactly, and she hoped that it stood out enough without her having to describe it, “-- when I was under your juju, you said that you owned the right to kill me -- do you really believe that? Why did you say that?” She hoped he was in a kind enough mood for an answer, because she’d rather not have the burden of a man thinking he had the right to kill her over her head forever, not when she was long gone, and their time together was only a memory. She feels as though it’s something she’d hold on to until the curiosity is sated. So, she lifted her head, much more confidence in her gaze than when she was a bruised peach, and looked into his eyes seriously. Considering the serious topic of her life she wanted to hear what he had to say, but she doubts anything would have justification.

if you ask me

[trinxlisa]

Scans | Beast 8th Mini Album ‘Ordinary (A Ver.)’ © FLY SO HIGH ♚ do not edit.

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

It had been a major oversight for him to have underestimated Lisa’s talent of tormenting him, simply because of her irrational fear of her captor. It had been far too simple for him to quickly dismiss her once he had successfully disassociated her from the Miyako that plagues him, but he sees now that she poses a greater threat than Miyako could ever hope to accomplish.

There are many similarities between them—other than the obvious one being that they essentially inhabit the same vessel—such as the way they steal the serenity of his nights and forces him instead to think only of them. But do not be confused: Lisa’s mode of conduct cannot be further from Miyako’s. There is something deliberate in the way the latter chooses to torment Kikwang; it is written in the way she delivers her veiled taunts, so perfectly worded that there is no doubt that Miyako has practised each line—each syllable—to perfection with the main intention of getting a rise from him. And in contrast, Lisa needs only exist to cause him to fret; it is the mere thought of her doe eyes and bloodied cheek that causes his fingers to curl into fists—not a single word needs to be uttered by her bruised, cherry lips.

In the presence of Lisa’s shine, Miyako fades into the darkness of the former’s shadow until she is no more.

Kikwang spends every waking moment thinking of the bruises and lacerations that mar her porcelain skin, of the fists and claws that had dug deep into her flesh to leave ugly imprints, and it forces his teeth to grit in anger. It is due to thoughts like these that justify his nagging need to upgrade the security he provides her, first with disposable henchmen whose names he cannot place, to skilled assassins whose swords glint the same shade of shining silver as his own weapon, to Hyuna, one of the men and women with unique powers that propels them to a position of high status, to the point where Kikwang trusts them to spearhead the battles he does not bother to attend.

One would think that someone as talented and dangerous as Hyuna, whose obedience stems from her desperate need to please him, would be sufficient in warding off any attempts on Lisa’s life. And yet, Kikwang is still plagued with sleepless nights, his mind elsewhere (or more specifically, located in the room in which Lisa has chosen to dwell). He often contemplates dropping by just to see how she’s doing—he cannot explain it, but though his men return with detailed reports on Lisa’s allegedly good health, Kikwang is often left with an unsatisfactory feeling that swims in his veins—but he remembers that he is supposed to be filled with anger from her brazen display of her insolence, and so his pride prevents him from doing so.

It is not until he calms further and is finally able to locate the questions he could not think of previously due to her angering rudeness, that he finally chooses to swallow his pride, if only to dispel at least his curiosity. So finally, he makes the trek towards the room he had been avoiding ever since she had rudely introduced herself into his grand abode for the nth time.

It is his men that enters first, as they part the way for him and position a chair approximately three metres from the couch she claims as her own; but before he makes his presence known, she has already parted her lips to speak. Kikwang catches the tail-ends of her sentence and he wonders if he’ll ever get used to her lack of self-preservation—it is not often that he finds someone who is so willing to draw his attention to them—but his question is answered when she states that he is not the person she had been expecting. Kikwang holds her question in his thought but takes his time to generate an answer; but first, his dark orbs devour the sight of her. From his inability to find a blemish or scar on her from the considerable distance between them, Kikwang notes contently that she is well, just as everyone that preceded him had claimed, and the worry that fills his heart begins to decline. His eyes trail down her form, taking his time even when his men have completed the setup and have now introduced themselves into his radius to await his order; and even when he finally acknowledges them, he utters a succinct, “leave us,” without once removing his gaze from her form.

The sound of the door closing shut marks the beginning of the heavy silence that pervades this room. He meets her gaze and notes that she has not bothered to stand respectfully in his presence—he supposes this is something else he will have to get used to—and so instead of condemning her, he momentarily grits his teeth in frustration before loosening his jaw to speak, “I apologise if you have found Hyuna’s treatment of you to be less than satisfactory. I will deal with her accordingly.”

He treads towards and sits on the chair his men have prepared for him, making himself comfortable just as Lisa has chosen to do. Then, he holds her in his gaze once more before finally answering the question she had greeted him with for what seems to be many minutes ago, “I have taken it upon myself to guard you from the dangers you seem to fear. Fret not; your dwelling in my home will not be affected by this change.”

The minutes tick by, and it permits his initial fretting over her well-being to settle, and instead paves the way for his curiosity. He watches her under furrowed eyebrows, and to further denote his inquisitiveness, he shifts from his comfortable lean backwards to prop his elbow on the armrest as he rests his chin within his curved fingers.

“I would appreciate if you humoured me by answering my queries to the best of your ability; it is sufficient payment for keeping you safe,” he explains as he watches her every expression, before the first of his many questions spill from his plush lips, “do you believe your captor to be stronger than I, that I am unable to emerge victorious should I choose to challenge him? Is he gifted in the way I am—in the way you are?”

There is unfortunately a long line of questioning that the leader intends to get through, hopefully by the end of this meeting. And though it is late, it had not been a difficult choice to sacrifice his sleep to guard her, when he had not been getting sufficient rest regardless due to the agonising he had done over her well-being. 

(But now that he has appointed himself with the task of dealing with any attempts on her life firsthand, Kikwang notes that the worry he had once felt has since diminished; so much so that perhaps now, once his doubts are cleared, he will finally be able to get some rest.)

Lisa was surprised to say the least. Since she had arrived, a little over a month ago she had not seen much of Kikwang. Only passing glances, and when there was only a question that only he could answer, obviously, he was the figure she’d look for guidance to, but other than that, she wasn’t graced with seeing him, nor hearing his voice, so the random appearance was a surprise to her, but she found herself looking forward to it -- oddly. His words for his guards to disappear and leave them to themselves made her somewhat anxious, wondering what he could possibly want that would be better with the privacy of just the two of them, but she didn’t dwell much longer on the small command because he was speaking to her instead, and whenever Kikwang spoke, other things, or thoughts tended to cease and her focus was solely on him, lest she force herself not to listen.

Lisa shrugged at his apology, “you hired her,” she said with a laziness that suggested she didn’t pay Hyuna that much mind but sense Kikwang had the motivation to apologize, she figured she would voice the fact that he should do better when employing because Lisa is absolutely convinced that Hyuna was an idiot. Her only valuable components were the fact that she was attractive (which in the grand scheme of things meant nothing), and her power, otherwise, Lisa thought she was a useless addition to Kikwang’s army -- only there to annoy her whenever Kikwang sent her Lisa’s way. Kikwang seems to be taking the other woman’s place, and Lisa doesn’t know if the alternative is much better. Kikwang is difficult to be around if their last interaction was anything to consider. Lisa would rather a bimbo who can’t even talk about the weather to a man who would be perfectly comfortable in awkward silence he creates. Though she missed seeing his face around (for lack of a better word), watching his cold expression induce chills across her skin reminded her why they haven’t gotten on well since they met.

Lisa was almost amused whenever Kikwang spoke to her. It was almost like a game for her to figure out how many words he ends up using that she absolutely can’t even guess the meaning of. Half the time, she’s using context clues to figure out what he could possibly be talking about, other times, she has no idea and says the first thing in her brain that she thinks he could addressing. This time, she gathered what he wanted to learn from her, and she couldn’t help but tense a bit at the question. It alluded to the fact that he had been thinking long and hard about the events of the night that had been one of the worst for the young woman. She wondered what would make him ask such a thing, and if her response (whether the truth or a fabrication of her feelings) would upset him. She chose to be truthful in her thoughts. They’ve never failed her before.

“Nah -- he don’t got powers if that’s what you askin’,” Lisa began, leaning a heavy head on her own shoulder as she found a new place to rest her sight, Kikwang’s gaze too intense to hold for very long, “I don’ think he...stronger, I just -- he obsessed with me. He hate me more than you do.”

if you ask me

[trinxlisa]

if you ask me

@trinxkik

Lisa greeted his absence by the mark of dawn, as he asked that night. In fact, she has done it every night for the passed few weeks or so. Time has seemed to blur for her, but as far as she has known, she has been safe, and it mattered not that it had to be under Kikwang’s roof. Lisa’s wounds had healed completely from the time she had shamelessly wandered into Kikwang’s home to the present. She was back to her relatively beautiful self, with smooth skin, and doa eyes. She found it much easier to face Kikwang with a better appearance than with an altered one, and for a long time she didn’t understand why looking good in his presence meant anything to her.  Their situation was seriously strange. She was coming to his home nearly every night to dodge Haejoon, or she was thinking about the domineering man when she didn’t.

She figured if he wanted her dead, he would have done it long ago, and not kept her alive and well, and surely not aiding her in her hiding, not providing a safe house for a fugitive if he minded her existence as well. Lisa thought that had to count for something. What could he possibly want to keep her around for? She wondered, but it was impossible to get inside of Kikwang’s head, so she stopped trying to an extent, and simply made his house an alternative home. And naturally, as she did that, she became comfortable.

Another thing that was happening that was quite strange was the constant change on who “watched” her. At first, it was men that she had never heard Kikwang call the names of, men who seemed inexperienced and disposable (at least compared to Namjoon). They watched her, but not as closely as she expected Kikwang to have wanted them to, and sometimes it was annoying but she had gotten to know them better, befriended them so that the already present awkwardness of staying in Kikwang’s home like a runaway prisoner would be a little more bearable. But things continued to change. That’s when she met Hyuna. A girl who made question humanity, and women’s credibility. She was as dumb as a box of doorknobs, and infuriating but Lisa figured she couldn’t say much about someone else’s education level considering she hasn’t stepped in a school in thirteen years, however, she knows she’s a lot smarter than Hyuna.

The thing the woman says most of the time simply doesn’t make sense, and even has Lisa scratching her head. For a minute, she thought Hyuna was a joke sent by Kikwang. But the thought was expelled remembering Kikwang probably doesn’t have a joking bone in his body, so instead, she perhaps thought that he didn’t care about her life anymore and sent her someone dumb and whimsical out of pure lack of responsibility, but as always, Kikwang surprises her constantly. For instance, most recently, she had done what she always does. Lay in the couch with little else to do as she had left her phone laying neatly on her bed at the brothel so they wouldn’t be able to locate her all that easily, but the consequence to that was boredom. She couldn’t do much else but sleep, but sometimes it was hard to do so.

Her mind kept her awake most nights with so many thoughts. Most about Haejoon and if he will be waiting at her door the day she decides to stop coming to Kikwang’s and instead stay at the brothel. Would he kill her slowly, or fast? Agonizingly, or something quick and to the point? Knowing Haejoon, it would be anything but merciful. She also lay awake to thoughts of her family. She always thought about them. What they were doing, how they were still coping with her disappearance, if they assumed she was dead, if they had any hope of ever finding her again. She wondered briefly what her father would say about how much she’s grown. She wondered how her little brother looks now. He was probably handsome. Thoughts also floated to Kikwang, but throughout time she had become a little fond of the man.

She appreciated his kindness that he graciously extended to her. He could have kicked her out onto the street, to hell with her life, but he didn’t. He showed mercy and understanding toward her and allowed her to stay in his home even with a mad man looking for her. He kept guards on alert at all time to assure her safety, not to mention he had a body that could make grown women cry and the face of a greek god. Kikwang was a hell of a lot to think about. As all these things raced through her head, she heard footsteps approach, and immediately assumed it was Hyuna. She groaned, “Hyuna I don’ feel like dealin’ with you tonight. All the dumb shit you say really gives me a headache -- kindly exit or I’ll--” Lisa was cut short when she knew damn well those thick fingers that her eyes had instantly laid upon when she peaked didn’t belong to Hyuna. She opened her eyes completely, and then sat up to see the man clearer, looking over to the clock and realizing it was a bit late for Kikwang to be up, and she hasn’t seen him in this setting in a while, he had made it clear that the rest of their interactions were to be initiated by her, and not the other way around. She rose an eyebrow.

“Well, you not Hyuna,” she vocalized, “got bored and came to play monopoly, or something? I know this ya’ house and everything, but uh -- why are you here?”

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

trinxlisa:

“I’m pretty sure I walked here,” Lisa remarked, one of her many attributes including adding humor where it isn’t needed, fiddling with another one of his things that she probably shouldn’t be but her fingers needed to be busy, her attention elsewhere because his piercing stare was just too much to handle, and he was relentless with it. She was quickly coming to learn that Kikwang was no regular man that walked the earth with the same emotions that other people had, he was shameless and cared little about things that interfered with what he was used to doing, or wanted to do – she doesn’t know how long she’d be able to deal with it, “and yeah, it’s true that I’m tryna’ get away from him, a’leas’ for the night, but I’m not stupid for not lettin’ you kill him. It’s things you jus’ wouldn’ understand.”

Lisa took no answer as a yes, and simply plopped onto the couch that has looked awfully comfortable since she walked in. She doesn’t know exactly what it about Kikwang. Don’t get her wrong, she’s scared of him to an extent, but she also feels a sense of ease that she knows she shouldn’t feel. Men like Kikwang aren’t the types of people one should feel any sort of safety with. Especially since she’s offered nothing but complications in each of their interactions. Granted, every time she showed her face, it was for a reason. And the minimal mayhem she’s caused in her wake was not motiveless, he’s had his fair share of pissing her off, however, she was definitely one to know that that was just how life worked.

No matter who pissed her off, it doesn’t matter to take up for herself because she knows Kikwang could squash her like a bug without a care in the world, without moving a muscle. But that’s the thing, despite that, her cavalier attitude toward him cannot be explained, especially not by her. Is it odd to say she doesn’t feel threatened in his presence? Even though he is probably the cause of the demise of hundreds of people. She’s sure the color of his heart is black underneath his chest, but because she has made it this long, it’s got to be beating despite the color. She’ll take it.

“Too far,” Lisa answered with the smallest of shrugs, “I woulda’ got lost, or worst, your guard dudes woulda’ dragged me back out because I always get lost. ‘sides, I knew you would come to me. And would’ya’ look at that. There you are. Hello.”

Lisa knows one of these days her mouth would get her in trouble far worse than she could ever even have nightmares about. Power hungry men tended not to like pieces of dirt like her talking to them as casually, and whimsically as she does, but she can never help herself. If she remained as serious and respectfully meek as she should be, her life would be a lot harder to live. She would prefer her sorrowful existence be a lot less..sad.

She finally chanced a proper glance at Kikwang once again, and to avoid his gaze her eyes had fallen to his knuckles again, bandages soaked red, and she knows it’s probably not his own, “who’d ya’ beat up?” she asked, making further conversation not entirely sure if he’d indulge her or not but anything was better than watching him loom, and breathe with an icy stare that had her wondering if Haejoon’s beatings would have been a light load to handle. She thinks that Kikwang’s a lot more safe, but maybe that was the dangerous part of it. She doesn’t know him well enough to know he’s of trust, only a feeling, intuition (which has never failed her before), but that’s how the worse case scenarios are played out. A victim is always much too trusting. She couldn’t take his eyes anymore. Especially with her appearance, even more so compared to his. He looked upsettingly gorgeous, and she just wanted the attention to be off of her, and her disintegrated face. A whine escaped her, “can you stop starin’ at me? Jesus christ. I’m over here lookin’ like a bowl’a froot loops while you look like buttered hawaiian rolls. I can’t think.”

Disregarding the pinching ache in his mangled knuckles, there is a budding pain isolated in his palms that tells a tale of short nails digging into flesh. But that is simply a testament of his ire as measured by his tightly clenched fists, so tight that even the layers of white bandage wrapped around his hand fail to adequately pillow the gnawing of his burrowing claws into skin. She is unlike every other, who tiptoes around his form in an effort to contain his threatening fire; instead, every word that falls from her bruised lips is akin to Miyako’s hobby of spinning his flickering flame into a devastating inferno with the tips of her dainty fingers.

Unsurprising to all, it is not often that someone is audacious enough to imply—let alone explicitly state—that Kikwang does not have the mental capacity to understand a specific concept. The man is undeniably smart, with commendable decision making built on the logic he possesses and guided by his willingness to learn from his past mistakes. In fact, it is said that in all of Okami, he can only ever be matched by Masaru. And so her underestimation of his capacity to understand thoroughly upsets him; and as if to add insult to injury, she proceeds to speak as though he is beneath her. As though she is the one who sits on the pedestal while he kneels at her altar, so much so that he is required to take the long walk towards her location whilst she lazes about in his house.

Here is what he knows: were it anyone else in Lisa’s position, Kikwang is sure they would be left bleeding on the floor with four parallel lacerations decorating their pale skin. Or more plausibly, had he lacked the patience to wait for his signature weapon to be fetched, then perhaps their cadaver would sport a face so beyond recognition, one would find it impossible to identify the body, no matter the special connections shared.

And yet, there he stands, firmly rooted to the ground as he expresses his anger with heated glares in place of swinging fists. And oddly enough, though the discontent he feels towards her rightfully grows with each sentence she poorly strings together, it is nothing compared to the rage he harbours for the man who has all but mutilated the beauty she possesses that he so adores. Perhaps it is because Kikwang is the type of leader who prizes in carrying out punishments on his own so others know better than to cross him specifically, but there is a violent tug on his empty heart at the thought of her punishment that suggests otherwise.

He does not feel the urge to kill or maim her in the slightest, and had in fact been silently grateful that she had lived to see another day. (He has also noted that the wounds that litter her body may not develop into permanent scars, which pleases him so.) But perhaps that is why he is truly maddened by the mere thought of her captor: because the man had been this close to ripping her from existence—and therefore, from him—permanently.

The thought is jarring—and poorly attributed by the mantra that he owns the right to terminate her life and so, he should be rightfully annoyed by the knowledge of another attempting to steal said right—but luckily, he is ripped from the suffocating tendrils of his mind by her question. Unfortunately, an impossible statement quickly follows her question before Kikwang can fully shake himself from his thoughts, and her odd sentence leaves him feeling as foolish as she seems to view him as. And to make matters worse, though she had long since made herself comfortable on his couch, he only now acknowledges the fact—her slight, because it seems as though she does not respect him enough to even stand courteously in his presence—and it causes the rows of his teeth to grate against each other.

(His murderous intent comes in a rapid burst, but just as he takes a terrifying step towards her direction, the urge quickly diminishes until it is but a vague memory. He halts in his advances as he is overcome by a haze of confusion, and his fingers slacken into a relaxed curve at his sides.)

And because the option to kill her seems to evade him, there is only one other thing he can truly do: he needs to leave. Now.

“That is none of your concern,” he spits through gritted teeth before turning his head towards his nameless men as a command falls from his lips, “should there be an infiltrator who is desperate enough to act on their ill intent towards her, do not hesitate to neutralise the threat. In the interim, do not let her out of your sight.”

Kikwang turns his gaze towards Lisa before he can acknowledge his men’s obedient nods at his command, and he keeps her under his scrutinising gaze for a few beats before stating spitefully, “it will do me no favours to have my alliances with Dean be dissolved because he attributes your death under my roof to some falsely perceived incompetence on my part. I expect to be greeted by your absence by the mark of dawn.”

And though he had initially come with many questions swarming in his head, for the life of him, he cannot seem to remember them amidst the eternal anger that makes the base of his heart, let alone be sensible enough to make them known in an effort to have them answered. Instead, he marches from the room with forceful steps, the currently unacknowledged nagging at the back of his mind promising to grow and persist. But as for now, Kikwang will stubbornly ignore Lisa’s existence in hopes that she will eventually disappear from his memory and, as a consequence, plague and confuse him no longer.

&of wolves and sheep,

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

There is not a day that goes by where Kikwang does not crave her absence. Her ghost is the kind of tenacious lover who drags the tip of her forefinger across his naked chest as he wakes, and upon acknowledging the parting of his eyelids, she is the sort who leans closer and moans into his ear, “and how did you find your dream of me last night?” The kind who situates her arms loosely over his torso, and yet, even if he were to use all the strength he possessed, he would be unable to escape her hold. She has driven him past the point of lethargy, until he is left with the bitter acceptance that she will always and forever frolic around him in circles and never stray far enough to disappear from his sight, and he wishes for nothing more than a moment’s reprieve to live in a void where the song of her haunting melody cannot reach him.

And yet, paradoxically, Kikwang had longed to see Lisa in the flesh in the hour after she had left him and ran into the arms of another, and his mind had been plagued with the thought of her well-being in the days that followed. In fact, he believes that had he been a few years younger, armed with the willpower that now ceases to exist, he muses that perhaps, he would’ve ordered his men to track her down and rescue her from certain death. Without the threat of the downfall of his alliance with Dean to hide behind, Kikwang superficially attributes this need as a consequence of his belief: that being that he owns the right to terminate Lisa’s life, and he will stubbornly protect the possessions he chooses to value. So when he had heard of her presence in his home—after he had been struggling to come to terms with her supposed death—Kikwang had felt both relieved and frustrated at the same time.

But now, as his dark orbs trace the deep purple of the bruises that mark her skin, he almost wishes that she had not returned, if only to leave him in sweet ignorance. Because although said ignorance consists of him believing that she is dead, it is a better alternative than being graced with the sight of her mangled frame. For a man who is so filled with violence and is not of the belief that he should hold himself back, Kikwang has seen such a devastating sight one too many times—though most of the time, it is due to the work of his own fists—and yet he finds it so unwelcoming on her that he nearly spits the bitter taste from his tongue.

Though she exhibits the sort of clumsiness that is characteristic of her—one that he thoroughly loathes—he cannot find the strength to quirk the corners of his plush lips in annoyance. And though she all but mocks him by reminding him, once again, that she is in no way, shape or form his Miyako—as expressed by her inane belief that he cannot do worse—he cannot bring himself to either correct her, or have her escorted away from his proximity. He can only stare at the gash on her lip, and he silently notes that the wound is likely inflicted by the sinking of her teeth into flesh as hard knuckles meet her pretty face.

(His own bloodied knuckles throb in pain, but it is not the ache that brings about the grimace on his sharp features.)

Kikwang doesn’t acknowledge her request to stay in his home, but he does not deny it either. Instead, he offers his acquiescence by stating more than asking, “you are running from the brute you spared from my hands? You are a fool.”

He turns his gaze from her face momentarily and looks to the ground instead, and he watches as his fingers flex and curl in his peripherals. The blood that stains the white bandage wrapped around his palms belong to a man who is much less deserving of such treatment, and Kikwang’s lips quirk in annoyance at losing the opportunity of allowing his knuckles the privilege of tasting the sweet iron of her captor’s blood. A small sigh falls from his lips in regret, but he quickly brushes the feeling away and distracts himself with his next statement, which he delivers whilst bringing his dark orbs to painfully acknowledge her battered face once more, “it is rude to barge into one’s home without greeting its owner. What excuse will you conjure up for your insolence?”

Head cocked to the side, Kikwang peers at her curiously; their last encounter consisted of her being emotionally broken, though her pristine shell had provided the flimsy illusion of her strength. And now, her pretty shell has chipped and cracked, and still she holds the strong defiance that is as vibrant as the one she had exhibited before her captor had chosen to mar her flesh. Is this yet another one of the many shades that constitutes her? The man is filled with the urge to find out more about the opponent he once deemed worthy, and yet he fears the answers he seeks.

“I’m pretty sure I walked here,” Lisa remarked, one of her many attributes including adding humor where it isn’t needed, fiddling with another one of his things that she probably shouldn’t be but her fingers needed to be busy, her attention elsewhere because his piercing stare was just too much to handle, and he was relentless with it. She was quickly coming to learn that Kikwang was no regular man that walked the earth with the same emotions that other people had, he was shameless and cared little about things that interfered with what he was used to doing, or wanted to do -- she doesn’t know how long she’d be able to deal with it, “and yeah, it’s true that I’m tryna’ get away from him, a’leas’ for the night, but I’m not stupid for not lettin’ you kill him. It’s things you jus’ wouldn’ understand.”

Lisa took no answer as a yes, and simply plopped onto the couch that has looked awfully comfortable since she walked in. She doesn’t know exactly what it about Kikwang. Don’t get her wrong, she’s scared of him to an extent, but she also feels a sense of ease that she knows she shouldn’t feel. Men like Kikwang aren’t the types of people one should feel any sort of safety with. Especially since she’s offered nothing but complications in each of their interactions. Granted, every time she showed her face, it was for a reason. And the minimal mayhem she’s caused in her wake was not motiveless, he’s had his fair share of pissing her off, however, she was definitely one to know that that was just how life worked.

No matter who pissed her off, it doesn’t matter to take up for herself because she knows Kikwang could squash her like a bug without a care in the world, without moving a muscle. But that’s the thing, despite that, her cavalier attitude toward him cannot be explained, especially not by her. Is it odd to say she doesn’t feel threatened in his presence? Even though he is probably the cause of the demise of hundreds of people. She’s sure the color of his heart is black underneath his chest, but because she has made it this long, it’s got to be beating despite the color. She’ll take it.

“Too far,” Lisa answered with the smallest of shrugs, “I woulda’ got lost, or worst, your guard dudes woulda’ dragged me back out because I always get lost. ‘sides, I knew you would come to me. And would’ya’ look at that. There you are. Hello.”

Lisa knows one of these days her mouth would get her in trouble far worse than she could ever even have nightmares about. Power hungry men tended not to like pieces of dirt like her talking to them as casually, and whimsically as she does, but she can never help herself. If she remained as serious and respectfully meek as she should be, her life would be a lot harder to live. She would prefer her sorrowful existence be a lot less..sad.

She finally chanced a proper glance at Kikwang once again, and to avoid his gaze her eyes had fallen to his knuckles again, bandages soaked red, and she knows it’s probably not his own, “who’d ya’ beat up?” she asked, making further conversation not entirely sure if he’d indulge her or not but anything was better than watching him loom, and breathe with an icy stare that had her wondering if Haejoon’s beatings would have been a light load to handle. She thinks that Kikwang’s a lot more safe, but maybe that was the dangerous part of it. She doesn’t know him well enough to know he’s of trust, only a feeling, intuition (which has never failed her before), but that’s how the worse case scenarios are played out. A victim is always much too trusting. She couldn’t take his eyes anymore. Especially with her appearance, even more so compared to his. He looked upsettingly gorgeous, and she just wanted the attention to be off of her, and her disintegrated face. A whine escaped her, “can you stop starin’ at me? Jesus christ. I’m over here lookin’ like a bowl’a froot loops while you look like buttered hawaiian rolls. I can’t think.”

&of wolves and sheep,

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

@trinxlisa

Perhaps it had been unwise to spar, when the wounds Miyako had left on his person are still so raw. But this is why Kikwang fights like a man on the verge of losing, who is desperate enough to do just about anything to survive, even though the physical injuries left by his sparring opponent are scarce and nothing compared to the gashes that Lisa had left in her wake. A sheen of sweat coats his impressive musculature as his bare chest rises and falls heavily with every breath due to the physical exertion Kikwang doesn’t typically bother putting in; his opponent jabs his fist forward, but the leader skillfully dodges the attack and instead, digs his strong fingers around the man’s forearm and flips him easily to the ground.

Following typical sparring rules, this is where Kikwang is supposed to cease his attacks and command his opponent to compose himself for another fight. Except he doesn’t stop there; no, because therein lies the next mistake: the natural consequence that follows his mind being so consumed with the last interaction he shared with his Lisa—or any thoughts of Lisa, Miyako and the like—is that Kikwang fails to process any external stimuli down to its minute details, because he only sees her. He sees her everywhere: from his opponent’s persistence, all the way down to the padded floor on which he stands. Naturally, the constant reminder of Lisa—the girl who has ordered hurricanes and thunder to trample over his life and pranced out soon after, as though she is none the wiser of the catastrophe she has caused—leaves his blood boiling, and before long, the uncontrollable fires of his rage bursts from its cage of flesh and consumes him whole. But it is the knowledge that Lisa is most possibly dead now that tips him past the point of return.

(Who will be held accountable for her sins?)

And so he spurs on, his bandaged palms curling into fists as he lands strike upon strike on his opponent’s poor face, until blood trickles from the unconscious man’s nose, lips and cut cheek. His knuckles burn with each punch, as bone meets flesh meets bone, the force he uses so excessive that the sound of bone crunching is sure to follow. But Kikwang is deaf to all of it. All he hears is Lisa.

Lisa.

“Lisa.”

Kikwang halts in his attack just in time to spare the man’s life, and as he is pulled out of the depths of his mind, he finally realises the damage he has caused. Here is a man with bruises and bumps and blood masking the prominent features of his face past the point of recognition. The next thing he is made aware of is his laboured breathing, as well as the unfamiliar sensation of the burning of his lungs from overexertion. Kikwang tears his view from the scene and acknowledges the man who has disrupted his sparring session, his features curling into a snarl, “do not speak of her name.”

The man gulps in fear, his eyes darting briefly towards Kikwang’s bloodied knuckles before looking back at the face of his leader, and quickly, he informs the latter, “she’s here.”

Kikwang widens his eyes in realisation.

So she’s alive. If he weren’t so concerned about that fact, perhaps he’d be able to feel rightfully confused at the girl’s presence in his home. Did he not command her never to return?

As though Kikwang had not been angry enough, the fire that consumes him burns twice as bright at the knowledge of her defiance. Without further ado, he stomps towards the room in which she can be found, guided by his men, and when he arrives, he barges in rudely. His plush lips part to demand she tell him reasoning to her presence, but upon seeing her face, his words choose to fall back into his throat instead.

Because there is a girl with bruises and cuts littering her milky skin, and the ugly bumps that occupy the beautiful canvass of her face has distorted the pretty painting nearly past the point of recognition. The anger he feels towards her dwindles at the sight, but then it regrows in equal fervour, though this time, it is no longer directed at her: he justifies his anger as the aesthete in him being thoroughly insulted from having a work of art as beautiful as her be so terribly vandalised, as though they do not understand the worth that is her. And because this is undoubtedly the work of the lout that Kikwang had handed her over to on a silver platter, the leader is sure that the man is unable to accurately evaluate her value the way he can.

(Except he quickly remembers that recently, he has been unsure of her true worth; and so due to his hesitance from his conflicting views, his anger curbs mildly.)

Kikwang remembers the other man he had left bleeding on the floor, near death and fully unrecognisable, and he know that the man and Lisa are not the same; but still, the leader clenches his fists so tightly, his short nails leave crescent imprints in his bandaged palm. His eyelids fall shut as he reins in his anger as well as attempt to recompose himself, and when he is successful, his eyelids part once more to reveal the fiery determination he holds.

“Have you come to finish me off, sweetheart?” he chooses to taunt instead, though there are many questions that he wishes to have answered. But Kikwang is not supposed to care about any of that anymore, and so the questions fail to form in the cavern of his mouth.

Lisa is used to the abuse. She’s been enduring such things from as far as she can remember, but it doesn’t change how much it hurts. Especially this time. Haejoon wasn’t easy on her, of course he wasn’t. He had such animosity with her this time she was surprised she had woken up to see another day. She can’t really recall everything that had been said that night, she was beaten so badly that her memory had started to fade, but, she does remember how possessive he was over her. Calling how so many degrading things he pretends she hasn’t heard countless of times throughout her career as a prostitute, and he makes it hurt no more than any other man has. Though, Haejoon does swimmingly at perplexing her. She never had an idea where his possessiveness came from. 

She remembers him hating her the moment she stepped foot in the brothel when she was much younger, and from there, all she had known from him was hate, but recently he had been suggesting ownership over her, as if she was brought here to be his own personal whore, and she never understood it, but she assumes it’s why he’s harder on her than any other working woman in the brothel because he’s got some twisted fantasy of having connected with her. Despite that, he’s still just as cruel, for only a moment she thought his infatuation with her would grant her special treatment, but like before stated, he was only harsher with her because he expected so much more. Not only was she beaten to a pulp as a punishment, but he rounded up as many of his sick, cruel friends as he could and they took turns with her, degrading her in a way she’s endured many times, but it never fails to get her completely submissive and weak. She was bound to a wall, she remembers, almost drowning in white, bruises littering the expanse of her once milky white skin that had been replaced with the flushed shell of a bruised peach.

Haejoon asked her, “-- you’d think you had gotten enough cock here alone, but I suppose whores can never have enough -- are you going to tell me who the man was that answered your phone? Who was he that you spread your legs for, huh?--” things perhaps could have been easier for Lisa if she had fessed up, and revealed Kikwang’s identity, but she found herself not even having the urge to do so, even if it would lighten her pain and reduce the time she endured it. She’s not sure if it was because she didn’t want to give Haejoon the satisfaction, or she didn’t want Haejoon seeking Kikwang out, God forbid Haejoon try to hurt him. She wasn’t completely sure, all she knows is that her silence came to a price, in fact, she had went as far as to spit in his face, earning her punch right back to the jaw. “--how’s about another round then, boys? I don’t think she’s learned her place just yet--” and it all started again. She knows she passed out from there, and when she came to, she was thrown haphazardly onto her bed. Naked, dried liquids caked up in every corner of her body, and everything hurt. It was the first time in year she had cried.

Not only at her treatment but at the fact she nearly had a way out. What could have come of Kikwang killing Haejoon once and for all? She wondered. She feared for the outcome at the time, but now that she’s faced the alternative, nothing could possibly be worse. Right when she thinks she’s in the clear, after cleaning herself up after sleeping the day away, she was dragged back into the basement and the punishment ensued for another night, endless hours of torture with the same question being spat into her ear, “--who were you with, Lisa?--”

She knew it would be endless until she could answer it. Every night reduced to a cum dump until Haejoon got the answers he seeked. But she knew how to escape him. Despite all the talk, and the torment, Haejoon would never face another man one on one. He may not know who Kikwang is but Haejoon was cowardice enough to not truly want to find out -- at least not face to face. So, in order to escape the agony of the two nights in a row she’s endured, she completely cleaned herself of any evidence of the nights before. Unfortunately, she couldn’t erase the knots, busted lip and bruises, and she left the brothel right before business began to start which was around 7PM. 

She knows Haejoon will be livid, but the break from one night was well needed, no matter how bad it would become when she got back. She found herself taking the growing familiar route to Kikwang’s place, but reluctantly so. His words that rang deeply within her were not forgotten, but, she didn’t see any other solutions. If she was found anywhere else, Haejoon would snatch her up, and somehow find an even worse way of punishing her. If Kikwang hurt her for coming back even when he commanded her not to, or even killed her for it, she couldn’t imagine much worse than Haejoon. At least not from Kikwang, but then again, she’s slowly coming to realize she doesn’t know him at all. It wasn’t hard getting passed Kikwang’s men, when they denied her entry, she simply brought them to their knees, and stepped inside, directly over the writhing body of a man she reduced to shivers until the others got the hint, and stayed away and instead scurried off, perhaps to tell Kikwang of her arrival, she doesn’t know, but she does know she’s prepared to say anything to get Kikwang to let her stay. She can’t go back.

What she didn’t expect was what greeted her when Kikwang walked into the room. She was used to his black shirts that gave her imagination a little bit of something to work with but could never prepare her for what was truly underneath. He was ripped, and sweaty, and her eyes darted to his bloody knuckles, meaning he had fought for some reason, but when she looked at his face there wasn’t a scratch in sight. Safe to assume the sight had been a little too much for her, her knees going weak, and reflexes making it to where she knocked something off one of his shelves by accident, “shit,” she cursed, forcing her eyes to tear away from him in order to pick up the object she had dropped, even though it had broken in two, she tried to set the pieces next to each other in the place it had sat when it was whole.

She bit her lip, realizing she had looked horrible in comparison to the literal God that graced her presence. She quickly became self-conscious and threw her hood up on her head, “sorry about that -- thing, hope you won’t miss it too much because…it broke,” Lisa mumbled, stating the obvious as if Kikwang wasn’t present for the entire event.

Lisa didn’t have a clear cut answer for him. How does she explain her presence when he had commanded her to never come back. She chuckled, even though nothing was funny. “Ya’ see, I got myself into a bit of a pickle, but it’s nothin’ big, it’s just that--” Lisa avoided eye contact but had not lost it completely, opting to play with the hem of her jacket, “--that I’m in a lot less of a pickle by being here. I know you said not to come back, but I like breathing. So I mean, you can kick me out, but like -- I might die if you do.” And it’s not like she wasn’t telling the truth.

“--so if you have even the smallest piece of a heart and a lil’ bit of patient-ness, you’ll let me just stay for the night and I’ll never botha’ you again, alright--” she ended up looking down at his body once again, and realized it hurt a lot worse than the wounds she sported. He was such a work of art. She knew his face was a sight for sore eyes, but his body. She doesn’t know how she’s not overheating. She was getting very distracted and wished he’d put something on before she got beside herself, she directed her eyes back into his, that didn’t help with distraction any better, and opted for the space beside him instead, “--so yeah.”  

&of wolves and sheep,

[trinxlisa]

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

It is often said that the process of wilting is not an attractive one. It is characterised by the loss of rigidity, wherein scarlet petals turn into a shade of dull brown as they curl into themselves; wherein they fall from the height in which they once sat and as the seasons go by, they are slowly enveloped by the dirt until not even a whisper of their memory remains.

As she shrinks into a shadow of her former glory, Kikwang cannot deny that Lisa is withering.

The scorching red that she had once exuded has since waned, and in place of its stunning vibrancy lies the dark tendrils of fear that has since coiled its crooked fingers around her fragile figure. It wraps around her throat and chokes her, and so her words roll off her tongue unsteadily, and her voice breaks under the force of pressure. Dark orbs follow the tear that escapes her doe eyes curiously—eyes that had once seemed more fitting in the context of forest fires in place of dim overcast—and he watches as she caves into herself, the confidence and defiance that once burst from her small form now impossible to locate, but what remains starkingly clear instead is the trembling of her bottom lip from the absence of her fire to keep her warm. Like the wilting petal of a red rose, she descends from a place of relevance to the ground in which even peasants step on—from the queen he had viewed her as to the servant he had encountered once upon a time—and still, he believes she resembles that of the first snowflake that marks the first snowfall of winter, and Kikwang cannot deny that even in her lowest, she is beautiful.

To her credit, she attempts to restore herself to her former glory, but the leader has already witnessed her fall from grace, enough to know that it is all an act. So he does not back away when the person he once considered his worthiest opponent approaches him—does not even blink—and if his illusion of her grandeur were not already broken, the words that fall from her plush lips are sufficient to shatter the perfect porcelain he once believed she was made of.

It is her belief that he is incapable of what she seems to perceive as the worst kind of evil that finally—after years of being haunted by her ghost—pulls him from the zero gravity of his imagination back onto solid ground.

Is he not the same man who has slaughtered the innocent, the guilty and everyone in between? Is he not the same beast who has spared no woman and no child from his scorching ire and once existing ambition to better himself? Is he not the wolf who has terrorised Kyushu and tore men from their families, and children from their bawling mothers? But more importantly, is she not the Miyako who has slid her slim arms around his torso in an effort to break his fall as he collapses to the ground in searing pain? Is she not the Miyako who has always been by his side with every massacre he causes; the tormenting spirit who whispers taunts into his ear just before he slashes, with his terrifying tekko-kagi, those bearing even the slightest resemblance to her power?

If she were his Miyako, she would not be so quick to doubt his ability to hurt.

It is strikingly evident now that he does not know this Lisa, and neither does she know him. Miyako is but a figment of his imagination that has simply borrowed her doe features, but the two are not the same. In fact, as he now stares at her womanly features and contrasts them with the cherubic face of Miyako, he can barely see the resemblance.

And if this did not add enough insult to his character, here she is at rock bottom and still, she declines the help he offers to a stranger on a silver platter. Her actions are a direct contrast to the men who travel far and wide seeking for his help, and will be happy with even the crumbs that fall from his table. His grip around his palms tighten as a consequence of the raging inferno within, and were it not for the promise he had made to her—as well as his association to Dean, who he must admit, is one third of an alliance he holds dear—he believes he will be the one to end her before the unsophisticated churl is graced with her return.

That is the opponent she chooses to worry about, and with this knowledge in mind, he begins to see that both the brute and the woman in front of him are far beneath his station. She is unworthy of death by his weapon, much less the undivided attention he has wasted on her, and so Kikwang inadvertently heeds her beg by turning from her and towards the direction from whence he came.

“The exit is to your left,” he informs her between gritted teeth as he stares down the length of the corridor, “do not return.”

And like a wilting petal, he dismisses her as he travels down the aisle and leaves her to wither in her spot on the ground, uncaring of her existence or the likely possibility that she may die at the hands of a man who Kikwang views as unworthy of even an iota of dirt. But he is not foolish enough to believe that he will forget her so quickly; no, although he wishes to believe that she is worth nothing to him, his Miyako who bears an uncanny resemblance to her shell has woven her fingers into every thread of the fabric that is him, but that is all she shares with his nemesis. But Kikwang also believes that as the seasons of his life go by, Lisa will slowly fade from the forefront of his mind.

(And as for Miyako? The feel of her ghostly arm encircling his torso hints that there is nothing he can do about her permanent residence in his mind. The breath of her whisper brushes the shell of his ear as she reminds him, “I cannot be replaced.”)

Lisa doesn’t  know Kikwang, nor Zenko. To Lisa he’s been just a man, who has managed to capture her attention and keep it for more than any other man who has appeared into her life. Lisa didn’t understand the night that they had met at the time. The intent to harm her, she did not understand, and to this day she still doesn’t. But she remembers the mercy he had shown. A weird weapon in his hand, he looked used to baring it, using it with no remorse. But on her, he had not. 

The second time they met, she had been an itch in his side, causing minimal havoc possibly to him, for no reason at all -- a life so insignificant, you’d think he’d have no problem ending it, but once again, he hadn’t. Even now, his expressions barely changed, a stoic man’s face rarely did, but, she could see a change in his eyes, a small one that she couldn’t even put into words. Whereas he had always shown mercy before, she wondered if he had done so once more just now, or he had he ran out? Lisa found herself pondering this oddity to the point only the last of his words were the only ones heard. Telling her not to return, and she was only left with the sight of his retreating figure.

It was odd. And it was odd that this was odd. One would expect nothing different from him. For him to not try and only leave her after he received the answered he seeked, and even had shown the mercy she was used to being revealed from him, however, this time was different. Somehow, someway. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and she didn’t have time to because she was already water deep in the punishment that awaits her insolence back at the brothel. She wanted to ask him what had happened to make him let up on her, but he asked her to never return, she took that as he never wanted to hear from her again, and the next time she shows her face, he might not be so merciful. She found herself not wanting to ever see that side of him she hoped he wouldn’t have, so instead of calling out to him, she took his gift of compliance and looked to where he seemed to have been going and located the door, pulling on its handle.

She had only cracked it, revealing her figure to outside forms but something wouldn’t push her through. What had all this meant? If he was going to let her go so easily, why even pick a fight with her in the first place? Why pretend to be some kind of knight in shining armor when he was willing to put down his sword at any word, letting her feed herself to savages? She wondered this, his display so odd she couldn’t shake the way his dark eye pierced into her. She felt uncomfortable under it -- it almost hurt more than the thought of the punishment that was promised to her and for the love of God she couldn’t understand why. What had he done to her to leave such an impression? She looked over her shoulder down the hall he had disappeared down, looking after the trail he left behind but not for much longer because the sharp pain of her hair being pulled disrupted her thoughts, and pulled her straight out of the house.

Haejoon always had the best of welcomes. The stinging pain was a distraction for her strange encounter with Kikwang, the smack across her face was too. She didn’t even attempt to dodge the spit flying from his mouth as he screamed at her, Kikwang’s door slamming shut under his palm. His grip never faltered as he pulled her down the steps and threw her into the back of the van, a routine very familiar to her, and as he shut it, only a slither of the house that had left nothing but questions could be seen before she was showered in darkness.

She wondered if the alternative outcome would have been worth it for Kikwang. At least, she had gotten what she fought for. It only goes down from here.

No One’s Truly Invincible

[trinxlisa]

[HAPPY BIRTHDAY LISA]

[trinxlisa]

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

The Miyako that had existed strictly within the boundaries of his skull had always carried a certain type of flair to her character. Kikwang clearly remembers the way she would float in circles around him, her full, scarlet lips curved into a coy grin as she challenged him with pointed stares and pink tongue dripping in venom; and yet it curled to form menacing sentences hidden behind bewitching diction. Elegance dripped from her dainty fingertips, and though she sometimes struggled to hold her head up with the type confidence she should rightfully carry—she only dared to whisper challenges in moments where she knew he’d be merciful—Kikwang had long since acknowledged that such a trait had been the very thing preventing him from tipping past the point of self-destruction. That was the thing about Miyako: she was the puppeteer and he, the poor puppet whose heart strings often got tangled with her slim fingers.

This is perhaps why Kikwang is fully aware that although Miyako is only one shade of the gradient of technicolour that is Lisa, the two vixens cannot be further from each other; because Miyako has littered his mould with her distinct fingerprint, and when Kikwang compares them to Lisa’s, he finds that they fail to match. They are different in every way, from the way in which they carry themselves all the way down to their method of conduct. Or at least, this is what the leader has observed: where Miyako tiptoes around his form in circles, her tongue poised with barbed insults aimed from afar, Lisa chooses instead to challenge him head-on, her fiery rage stampeding straight through him as she aims to leave his rubble in her wake.

He knows that they are different like he knows the back of his hand, so it must simply be a force of bad habit when he hears more than watches trivial items topple over and fall to the ground as a consequence of the type of clumsiness that can only be attributed to Lisa, and yet, he fully expects Miyako to emerge from the shadows of the forsaken room with her typical coy look. Clearly, this is not what greets him; but it is not Lisa’s blatant defiance that he meets, either. No, the panic in her bloodshot eyes and the ash-coloured strands of stray hair that flies in every which direction is foreign to him, and he guesses that this must be one of the many other shades that exist within her spectrum. But all it takes is her stuttered words that he is so familiar with—never on her, but on every other victim of his that has the misfortune of crossing his path—the momentary silence as her doe eyes flick down to her electronic device, followed by the tear-stained cheeks that seem so misplaced on her delicate features to know that he finds it displeasing. He grits his teeth and tightens his hold on his palms as she begs, and Kikwang’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as he appraises the odd scene.

Does she not remember who she is? Must he remind her of the fact that no opponent has ever managed to leave a lasting impact on the brain but her? She, whose one shade out of her infinite spectrum has plagued him for years on end, and even today, the mere thought of the name he had christened her brings her haunting melody to the forefront of his mind. He resists the urge to rebuke her fear, to remind her that she is his worthiest opponent in all of his thirty odd years, and to have his nemesis crumble to the floor in horror is not only disrespectful to herself, but to him as well.

What could this uncouth character possibly do to her, to bring out her distress in ways that he never could?

The curiosity gnaws at his flesh, but the tug at his heart indicates that he would rather not be aware of the answer. But Kikwang is not the type of person who prefers ignorance over knowledge, and so he ignores the bitter taste on his tongue as he cocks his head in question, “why do you fear? How has he hurt you in ways you believe I cannot?”

But he knows with the entirety of his heart that no matter what he says, Lisa is deaf to his commands. In fact, he is almost sure that she will answer his questions with yet another display of faux ignorance. Shockingly, despite the fearful display she currently has on, he knows without a doubt that even in her dying breaths, she will fail to fear him. So instead, he utilises her fear of another to his advantage.

Kikwang turns his head away from her as repulsive images of her lithe form dancing prettily around another man on a larger throne swarms in his mind, but he supposes this is a consequence of obtaining the knowledge that he loathes. But he constantly reminds himself that he cannot sacrifice this knowledge of the existence of someone with power greater than his for his stubborn belief that he holds, in his possession, her life—or more accurately, to her death—and so, reassured in his ways, he looks back at her with a heated stare as he all but spits, “tell me this and I will let you go to him.”

Lisa, any other time, would either make a run for it, or just touch him until he sinks to his knees, however, with Kikwang. Things were a lot more difficult. He was no opponent of hers, knowing she’d be defeated before she could even lift a finger. His ability makes her ever getting the best of him rather difficult, however, her words seem to work instead. She has managed to still be alive to this day, and she has known him for years. She reckons she is doing something right to be breathing and living right in front of him without a scratch in sight. She knows lightly of his reputation. No mercy, ruthless, has absolutely no shame in the annihilation of anyone who dared to disrespect him, but for some reason, she still has her eyes to see, her ears to hear, her heart still beating in her chest. What makes her different from the rest who have crossed him? She’s sure the man has encountered many much stronger, and resourceful than she, how is she still here is the question pegging the blonde’s mind, but she has no time to dwell, and she is sure her safety is dwindling with it.

Kikwang continued to ask questions, but it did nothing but work her up more. She acknowledges his efforts, really, she does. In fact, so much so that she also realizes how odd it is. Is he offering a hand to her? To insure her safety even through the mayhem she had managed to cause under him. She behaved like an annoying little mouse that no one bothers to catch, so why did he care enough to save her? She wish she could take the offer. She has wanted nothing more than to see a knife driven through Haejoon and his crew’s chest. Nothing more than to watch that stupid brothel burn to the ground and all the disgusting men that frequented them to burn with it, but she has nothing. Little does Kikwang know, it’s all she’s ever known in her adult life. She had no one to turn to, and nowhere to go once his heroic act simmers to a slow burn. Her life’s biggest obstacle would be eliminated, but then a new one would take its place. She has nothing, she is nothing. How could she possibly make a life for herself with no education, no work experience, no connections, no family -- no nothing. Kikwang may not have been thinking about things such as these but Lisa definitely was. She is no genius, but she knows how to survive and killing off her oppressors is definitely not it. No matter how much she craves to see their blood splattered against concrete, wants to see their heads roll. She has no choice but to prefer them alive and fully functioning, so that enduring the beatings, rape, and oppression could be worth something. Life at the very least.

At first Lisa shook her head no, more tears threatening to spill as she closed them, but she quickly realized that Kikwang would not take no for an answer. And he definitely doesn’t play games. She found that out rather quickly. She gathered her composure, and stepped a bit closer, satisfied with the fact that she wasn’t pummeling into the subspace of her own mind by his ability, her voice cracked, more tears fell and she cursed them both, wanting to look stronger in front of a strong man, but when has she ever? “They hurt me in ways I wanna’ think you wouldn’t--” she finally spoke, using a lone knuckle to dry her tears. Not to say that Kikwang was spineless, but he’s shown mercy toward her thus far, for whatever reason she can not name, therefore, she could safely say Kikwang would not want to do half the things they’ve done to her. Though, she knows the man is puzzle, who’s to say he wasn’t just waiting for the right moment?

“--in ways you would’a’never thought a person could do to other one,” she finished, a sniffle cutting her speech but she was right back to it, straightening her posture a bit so that she could feel at least a little less inferior to him, “with that bein’ said, you’d be makin’ the next couple’a hours for me so much easier by stepping aside and lettin’ me out. I wanna’ say thanks for even thinkin’a tryin’ to kill ‘em. Whether for me, or for your own self, but you can’t. You don’ know these dudes, and I don’t want you to know ‘em. So I’m beggin’ you, please let me through,” Lisa implored, hopefully for the last time, her leg tapping absentmindedly in her anxiousness to get passed Kikwang and straight into a danger zone. The longer she took, the worse it would be for her, and she’s scared shitless of what she is about what they’re going to do to her, the thought has more tears dripping from her face, “please.”

No One’s Truly Invincible

[trinxlisa]

[trinxlisa]

trinxkik:

It can often be said that when one chooses to indulge in an activity they adore to the point of excess, the item will slowly but surely lose its saccharine flavour. Kikwang doesn’t know if this is true, or if it is simply an excuse that masks a deeper, more complicated reason, but all he knows is this: with every tick of the clock that he catches Lisa’s yielding form in his view—with every beat that marks the steady decline of his raging ire—Kikwang’s insufferable complacency quickly dwindles and it leaves, in its place, a papery texture on his tongue. Perhaps the unpleasant taste could be explained by the aforementioned reason provided previously, or perhaps it has little more to do with the fact that Kikwang has always viewed Miyako—no, Lisa—as being on par with him due to his understanding that she is and always will be his archnemesis of sorts, and so having her submit to him feels markedly misplaced. Or perhaps, beneath the appearance of gnashing teeth and annoyed growls, the leader finds himself growing oddly fond of the challenge she provides, and to have that all disappear is akin to the bittersweet ache of an ex-lover’s desertion.

All he knows is that every time he catches the sight of her knees sinking into the marble floor, or every time he holds her gaze only to find that her doe eyes are uncharacteristically absent of challenge, the heavy weight that sinks his heart tells him that this is all wrong. But sadly, Kikwang is a slave to his lack of will and excessive pride, and so he doesn’t command her to stand, even when he feels the slight—and thoroughly insufficient—urge to.

Thankfully, Kikwang is not one to dwell on matters of the bizarre heart—some would claim he is absent of one—so he doesn’t concern himself with attempting to place reason to this strange feeling. Instead, he does what he has always done whenever the ghost of Miyako had crawled from the depths of her confinement to challenge him: he hastily disregards it and instead, distracts himself with more pressing matters.

Such as the likely prospect of having to kill under his radius. Though Kikwang has no qualms with stealing one’s life, the act is never exciting due to the tremendous pain he feels following the death of an individual under his submission. Granted, the pain has been marginally decreasing with every death; but alas, so has his will. Kikwang knows from experience that he would require a sizeable number of deaths under his submission to fully deplete his will—and it is unlikely that the foolish men who has made the laughable decision of challenging him would be intelligent enough to bring an army—but nonetheless, every death brings him that much closer to the expiry of his own life, so as the domineering man appraises the tekko-kagi in his hands, he briefly contemplates if he should put it on or if he should let Lisa fend for herself. She is, after all, his worthy opponent; surely, a woman of her calibre would be able to deal with such pests before he can even blink.

He is enraptured by the scene that his imagination has conjured up, of her lithe figure standing against the multitude of barbarians, the sight of her bringing her dainty fingers down in a gesture for them to kneel, and they do so with little delay; but the picture lasts only briefly, for Lisa jolts up disruptively from where she kneels as vulgar words spill from her cherry lips. He is maddened by her complete lack of respect—she is truly a mystery, the display of her respect for him fluctuating with no logical explanation in sight—and has half the mind to leave her to deal with the dogs all by her lonesome; but then she unexpectedly halts in her tirade to glance at her mobile device, and Kikwang is perplexed by the unusual sight of her pretty features morphing into that of fear.

(The leader himself is not familiar with the sentiment, but he has struck fear into the hearts of countless of others to recognise the expression. But what confuses him is the fact that he, Zenko, fails to draw forth the emotion from Lisa, and yet a simple notification from the uncouth man—he suspects—successfully breaks her confident composure and leaves behind the meek girl he had encountered with all those years ago.)

He had always assumed that when he established the identity of his adversary, said individual would regard Kikwang as their archfoe too; because try as one might, it is undeniable that the leader is one of the most feared men on the planet, and so if he were to establish someone as his true enemy, it is not wrong to assume that said opponent’s greatest obstacle would be the wolf of Kyushu. Imagine his surprise when he finds out that Lisa does not view him as her most daunting opponent and instead, gives such a title to another. Needless to say, Kikwang is both angered by her audacity, as well as intrigued by the capability of the man he once believed bore little significance.

Lisa escapes from his throne room, but Kikwang raises his hand to halt his men from chasing after her, should they get presumptuous. He doesn’t issue his command just yet, for his mind is reeling from the aforementioned revelation, coupled by the fact that he is still deciding whether or not risking a portion of his will forever would be worth it. There are the unsurprising pros, one being if she truly worked for Dean and happens to be injured under his roof, Kikwang cannot be sure of the impulsive gang leader’s reaction. But above all other reasoning, one poses a stark contrast above the rest: if he were to hand Lisa over to the hands of the man who had been so ready to threaten her life—the man whose abilities Kikwang cannot help but puzzle over, judging from Lisa’s terrified expression—he is quite sure that she will die.

He bristles at the thought, because as he had told Tanaka and this unnamed competitor, Lisa’s life is his to terminate, and therefore, the entirety of her life belongs to him too. Kikwang supposes he would have to show this boor what happens when one attempts to steal what rightfully belongs to him, just as he had shown Tanaka all those years ago.

Without further ado, he slips his strong fingers into his tekko-kagi and rises from his seat, and he barks, “search every corner of this house for Lisa. Do not allow her to leave the premises without my say so.” He leaves his men with the task of finding her, and as for him, he will make good on the challenge he posed to the unpolished male.

(With the threatening glint of his tekko-kagi donning his right hand, Kikwang strikes a formidable figure that bears an uncanny resemblance to the man he once was.)

His men run off in every which direction and Kikwang is the last to exit the throne room, his black Oxfords striking determinedly against the floor with every purposeful step he makes towards the exit. With each step, his ire rises, but he is distracted by the slight movement he catches in his peripherals, and it prevents him from trailing past the point of no return. Kikwang halts in his steps as he peers curiously over to the entrance of the dark, wistfully neglected piano room, and were it any other time, he might’ve ignored it and continued on his warpath; but with the knowledge of Lisa hiding somewhere within the walls of this house, it does not take a genius to figure out the cause of said movement.

“You insult me by thinking you could ever hide from me. Do not play coy; you know me better than that, as I do you. Reveal yourself, Lisa,” he calls into the open room, but does not step any closer lest he unintentionally brings her under his submission. Kikwang cocks his head in curiosity as he tries to make sense of her uncharacteristic fear—first the look of horror, followed by her strange belief that she needs to hide—and after a beat of silence, he guesses, “if you are plagued by the murderous intent of the lout in your device, fear not: he will no longer pose a problem to you. The duration of his life has exceeded its expiry date, and I have chosen to do the honours of sending him to hell.”

And as if to clear any confusion she may have regarding his intentions, Kikwang brings his right hand—donned with his tekko-kagi—from his side and curls his fingers tightly around his left palm in front of him, the indestructible silver of the four, parallel knives gleaming menacingly in the harsh lighting of the hallway.

Lisa thought that this whole ordeal was just so odd. Not only was she trapped in a house, she’s hiding from the man that owns it in order for him to walk to the door so she can locate it, and she’s got to stop him from killing the men that abuse her every single day. She’s got to stop him. There’s nothing normal about the circumstances, but Lisa understands it clearly. She doesn’t think Kikwang ever would though. She’s terrified of Haejoon. Terrified. He knows exactly how to hurt her, exactly and it makes Lisa sick, but obedient. She could take Kikwang’s offer, but she knows more would just come after that, and it’s not Kikwang’s battle to fight. Once he realizes how much bigger it is, he’d regret ever intervening in the first place, and Lisa knows that -- she’d be dead as soon as the big boss finds out about Haejoon’s assassination, and all of it would be for nothing.

She heard the bustle of Kikwang’s men coming down the hallways, and quickly ducked into an open room before they could see her. She didn’t know where she was exactly, but she recognized the hallway she emerged from somewhat, she feels like she’s getting closer, but she still wouldn’t know which way to go. It’s all ridiculous really -- who even has a house big enough for people to get lost? Kikwang is proving himself more and more of a nuisance. She sunk into a spot that allowed her to see outside the door, but still hidden from anyone who passed, at least from Kikwang who she assumed wouldn’t waste the time to go snooping around for her.

Lisa admired Kikwang, though. He resembled a knight almost, aiding in her protection despite how odd his weapon of choice looks. Protecting her is the last thing she would ever have guessed is he’d be the one to stand up for her -- something she’s never experienced, and she’s grateful, but very confused on why Kikwang felt the urge to do so. He said it’s because her life belongs to him (which she would normally detest but has no time to do that), but something tells Lisa it may be something different. But the words he said sounded like him, maybe he just wanted to be the one to kill her instead of anyone else. Maybe he truly did believe she belonged to him -- she’d tell him to stand in line if that’s the case.

She hated how much she fidgeted, because she bumped right into something while doing it, and it made the loudest, most unnecessary noise possible, alerting Kikwang of where she hid. To be honest, she didn’t even know he was nearby yet, which proves she just picked the worse place to hide. She sighed deeply at the mess she’s in, and wished she had never come with Jennie that first night, none of this would be happening. She would have never seen Zenko again, and she’d be at the brothel, as safe and sound as she can be. Funny how life does that, gets her  out of a dangerous place just to put her in a worse one.

At his words, Lisa wanted to tell him she didn’t know him at all, and that he didn’t know her, but he didn’t stop at just that and revealed what he planned on doing and that was enough to get her frantic in order to come out. Objects fell in her haste to reveal herself, stopping short at the doorway, only catching that he was going to send Haejoon to hell, and Lisa’s convinced even if Lisa tried, the man would only come back to haunt her -- she could never be truly rid of him, and she didn’t even want Kikwang to try, as heroic as the villain was seeming to be right now, “No!” Lisa ended up shouting much louder than intended, “-- I mean, you can’t- you can’t do that--” Lisa stuttered, fear over taking her at the thought of Kikwang ignoring her wishes and doing as he pleased anyways, which was a very likely occurrence.

She can only imagine what would happen to her as a result. Not only as punishment, but what if she gets kicked out of the brothel? Where would she go? She has nothing to turn to and she knows Kikwang has no knowledge of a life like that. He’s never had to fret over things like that, which makes slaughtering Haejoon so easy for him, but, she knows exactly what it’d mean for her -- if not death, then homelessness, poverty. She’s not prepared for the sacrifice, as much as she wants them all dead, the alternative is worse. Though, the fact that Kikwang was even willing gave Lisa a better sense of who he was. She remains wary of him, but, he’s proven he’s capable of more than tyranny. But because he is so accustomed to having control, Lisa can see how hard convincing him to let this need for homicide go, she can already feel tears welling up in her eyes.

“Just let me go, alright? I won’t come back here -- I won’t. But I’m begging you to just please let me through -- you don’t need to do that for me, why do you even care? Just let me through, just--” Lisa was interrupted from her speech by her phone buzzing in her pocket once again. She paused, took a very deep breath, and slowly removed the cellular device from her back pocket, and simply lit the screen up with the lock button, revealing: You’ve got exactly two minutes to bring your ass out of that house. You know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? Tears instantly streamed like raindrops, pattering against her phone screen.

She sniffled, the last vestiges of her pride gone in the name of fear at the hands of her ‘maker.’ She made direct eye contact with Kikwang, her eyes glassy from fresh tears brewing, her pupils wild from the fear shaken into her, her voice came out much quieter than Kikwang has ever heard it, “--please. Let me through.”

No One’s Truly Invincible