burntbrandy

[burntbrandy]

“I suppose so...” She shrugs a bit, “But I think it could be both,”

“Pictures of Long Island,” Eun starts, “...And my dog,”

Not many people knew she had a dog- not for any reason in particular. She just didn’t have any need to tell people about Bukkumi. Honestly though, it was probably wise not to.

burntbrandy​:

Eun figured she was doing a fine job keeping her claws mostly sheathed, “A kitty can only help her instincts so much,” She took a deep breath and ran a hand down the lapel of her jacket, stamping out the spark for now.

“I’d think so, the color composition is well-balanced and the contrast is just soft enough to be pretty,” She answered honestly, nodding a bit, “But I don’t have much on my walls. I have a few photos, that’s it,”

Which was also honest. Eun didn’t have enough of a liking for art to hang it up nor was she sentimental. Or, at least, she had nothing to be sentimental about. She had a few photos of the Long Island streets and a couple of cinematic photos of her and her dog. Eun was a minimalist, that much could be said.

—

“Kitty better do a good job then, eh.” If one is paying for such. “Pretty’s subjective, now ain’t it?” Jacques shrugs. “The Caravaggio. Everyone’s sayin’ it’s violent, but everyone’s kneelin’ at its beauty.” 

Contradiction, running wild. Eyeing Eun then, he wonders to what end of the spectrum she could fall into. As for her own collection, a blockage remains between though and reality. “What kinda photos?” 

[burntbrandy]

“Oh, absolutely. Super-glue can fix ribs,” She lets out a derisive laugh, nose wrinkling, “I’ll keep an ear out while I’m trying not to make it worse,”

“I’m well aware” She hisses in return. Eun knew full well what her associates were capable of but it was hard to ‘keep those dumbo flaps out’ or care too much about torture when she was half-blind and she was fairly certain the ringing in her ears would never end.

burntbrandy​:

“You have some healing magic I don’t know about?” She huffs back, “I can’t exactly accelerate-” Eun had inhaled too sharply and nearly doubled over, clutching her right side, “A god damn break,”

She knew well the pain of a broken bone from when she wasn’t as tempered. When she was wilder. God dammit. This would probably put her out of commission for a while. God fucking dammit. She resisted pushing her hair from her face, not wanting to touch the gash.

—

Off of her, Lee rolls his eyes heavenward. 

Call him a boomer, but gone are the times when a little blood isn’t just that — an oopsie. Killers have become much too sensitive, these days. 

Ha.

“My ‘magic healing magic’ is to get the fuck over it — how’s that sound, love?” Quickly, Lee shifts to his best millennial-Karen voice: “Some people weren’t tortured until their entrails crawled out of their mouths, and it shows.” 

The hand at her side draws his eye that way, too.

“Oh, you’re broken? Ew.” Shrug. “I always carry super-glue around, in case of an emergency DIY. Would that help?” Extra points if she says yes. “You’re an informant, aren’t you? Keep those dumbo flaps out then, darling — a special gift if you get any info on the wankers who did this.” A little closer, Lee inches into her ear. “This is just innocent tickling, compared to what we do. Remember that.”  

[burntbrandy]

“You have some healing magic I don’t know about?” She huffs back, “I can’t exactly accelerate-” Eun had inhaled too sharply and nearly doubled over, clutching her right side, “A god damn break,”

She knew well the pain of a broken bone from when she wasn’t as tempered. When she was wilder. God dammit. This would probably put her out of commission for a while. God fucking dammit. She resisted pushing her hair from her face, not wanting to touch the gash.

burntbrandy​:

Eun just lets out a displeased hiss before managing to find her words, “No. No it is not,”

The woman is damn near growling, teeth gritted and brows furrowed as she tries to stand. She had nearly forgotten how strong he was- though, to be fair, she had also forgotten her sense of humor in that moment. If his grip hurt, she sure as hell didn’t notice it.

—

“Aye, aye, captain.” Lee shrugs. “You look like steamed hot shit, then.” 

He straightens out and steps back, observing Eun from up above. The ugly truth is, he’d meant it. The red does give her a certain spark. The moaning does not.

“Can you hurry up the whole — suffering thing?” He motions with a hand, mimicking a turning wheel. “I’m sort of on a schedule.” 

[burntbrandy]

“Maybe, but they aren’t exactly wrong,” She notes, “I guess that’s what makes it easy though. You don’t have to think too hard about what you’re going to do,”

She leans forward, rolling her shoulders. Eun usually felt a little stiff if she sulked for too long. Oh, the woes of pessimism. She rolled her eyes at herself. Though she had little faith of the minds of the past, people were their history- whether they liked it or not.

burntbrandy​:

“Honestly, I don’t know,” She sighed, shaking her head, “I’ve never been one for art,”

Eun shrugged ever so slightly, studying the image of the aforementioned statue garden. It just seemed to be a study, of some kind. She didn’t think there was some deeper meaning.

“They say that nowadays, everything’s been thought of already,” Eun mused, tilting her head slightly. It was an apt saying.

“Imitation human.” The words slip out quickly, and with them come the obvious existential crisis. He can’t help but think of that one fucking movie where that fucker is telling everyone, “You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else.” Thanks, Palahniuk. Always good for a pep talk. “Makes sense. Then again, could be argued the people who recognize that are really just edgelords living by the Dictionary of Obscure Shadows or some shit.”

[burntbrandy]

“To not have my parents breathing down my neck,” She rolled her eyes, “I’m 28 and they still prattle on about it,”

Eun muttered something under her breath about how they should know better as the muscles in the hand holding her drink flexed, a brief glimpse of her fiery temper. She stamped out the embers quicker than they could spark, not about to reveal more than she had to to a complete stranger.

“Half of the people here have money in place of brains,” She said snidely, lip curling.

burntbrandy​:

Her brows raised slightly as she turned to look at him, a bit surprised he had chosen to sit beside her.

“I’m not much of an… appreciator of art,” She spoke slowly, clearly choosing her words carefully, “I know when something is appealing, but I can’t say I understand paying out that much for a painting,”

She, at least, was being honest with this stranger. Eun could swear she’s seen this man before but can’t quite place him. Perhaps he just has one of those faces? He had the look of a kind man and given he was perfectly comfortable sitting beside a complete stranger and striking up a conversation, well…

“So here at the art auction - what’s your hope, for the evening? If taking home something, isn’t your main object of desire.” She certainly seemed the type, to run within the circles of New York’s finest; in reference, to the gilded parts of the city, and not those struggling in his profession. Joaquim takes another sip of his drink, eyes still freely roaming the room; adjusting still, to the flagrant displays of wealth that seemed to be endless. “I’d say I’m here to buy a painting, but the very cheapest are at least five times worth my net worth.” 

[burntbrandy]

Biting back her sharp tongue, she gave her a small nod- even if by the straining muscles in her neck it was obvious she was in a metric ton if pain.

“I think it’s just my face and arm,” She supplied, even though she had fallen damn hard in the blast she didn’t think she was concussed. Although, there was a sharp pain when she breathed in, “...And maybe my rib,” Eun forced herself to admit that. She didn’t want to end up in pain for the rest of her life.

Location: The Gagosian

Open to: All

trigger warning for graphic descriptions of injuries, especially to the face.

For a while, Eun’s world was only pain. Debris from the explosion hit her from the left, tearing a line from her cheekbone through her brow- narrowly missing her eye. The left sleeve of her jacket was in shreds and she blindly reached for the searing pain but only her forearm was unharmed and the bralette she wore offered no protection even when she turned away, praying to a God she didn’t believe in that she wouldn’t die there.

Blood blurred her vision and the tang of metal invaded her senses as she tried to recover her footing, left ear ringing from the sheer volume of the blast.

Fuck.

[burntbrandy]

“Eun Han,” She answered in a voice half-way between a snarl and a whimper. Hard to tell given the gritted teeth and her screwed shut left eye. Thankfully, only closed to keep the blood out.

“Who are you?” Normally, she would be much more... polite about it, but the last thing on her mind is manners.

Location: The Gagosian

Open to: All

trigger warning for graphic descriptions of injuries, especially to the face.

For a while, Eun’s world was only pain. Debris from the explosion hit her from the left, tearing a line from her cheekbone through her brow- narrowly missing her eye. The left sleeve of her jacket was in shreds and she blindly reached for the searing pain but only her forearm was unharmed and the bralette she wore offered no protection even when she turned away, praying to a God she didn’t believe in that she wouldn’t die there.

Blood blurred her vision and the tang of metal invaded her senses as she tried to recover her footing, left ear ringing from the sheer volume of the blast.

Fuck.

[burntbrandy]

Eun just lets out a displeased hiss before managing to find her words, “No. No it is not,”

The woman is damn near growling, teeth gritted and brows furrowed as she tries to stand. She had nearly forgotten how strong he was- though, to be fair, she had also forgotten her sense of humor in that moment. If his grip hurt, she sure as hell didn’t notice it.

burntbrandy​:

Read more.

—

Fuck babysitting. 

The thought comes forward loud even through the blasts and the screams, Lee’s tall figure shouldering his way through the crowd. There’s no real care spared to the fallen — fuck the fallen —, his only concern the sheer logistics of it all. 

If Lee finds a brother, he’ll kill them on sight. No way prison could be worse than last time. 

“Move.” 

He picks up Eun by her shoulder, forcing her body into some sort of standing position — if it can manage to keep its stillness. 

“If it’s any consolation,” — it’s not — “this is the best you’ve ever looked.” 

[burntbrandy]

Location: The Gagosian

Open to: All

trigger warning for graphic descriptions of injuries, especially to the face.

For a while, Eun’s world was only pain. Debris from the explosion hit her from the left, tearing a line from her cheekbone through her brow- narrowly missing her eye. The left sleeve of her jacket was in shreds and she blindly reached for the searing pain but only her forearm was unharmed and the bralette she wore offered no protection even when she turned away, praying to a God she didn’t believe in that she wouldn’t die there.

Blood blurred her vision and the tang of metal invaded her senses as she tried to recover her footing, left ear ringing from the sheer volume of the blast.

Fuck.

[burntbrandy]

“Honestly, I don’t know,” She sighed, shaking her head, “I’ve never been one for art,”

Eun shrugged ever so slightly, studying the image of the aforementioned statue garden. It just seemed to be a study, of some kind. She didn’t think there was some deeper meaning.

“They say that nowadays, everything’s been thought of already,” Eun mused, tilting her head slightly. It was an apt saying.

burntbrandy​:

Location: The Gagosian 

Open to: All

Eun is on her second or third drink now, she isn’t fond of counting her drinks, but the night is young and she holds her booze well… besides, she’s not here on business. She relaxes into her seat ever so slightly and tips the frilly martini back, watching the rest of the bar from the sidelines, dark eyes investigating every detail of the world around her. The bidding hasn’t started yet, it won’t for some time, but as a Han she’s always been expected to be present. 

Even if she’s the singular known blemish on their shining reputation. She’s heard rumors of half-siblings. She wouldn’t be surprised, given her father’s presence as more myth than man. She has the signature look of the family- all sharp angles, cold eyes, pin-straight black hair. 

Anyone who’s anyone knows a Han when they see one. Though, currently, she’s relying on the dim lighting of her corner to conceal all that. 

Have to count on anyone to pay attention, to have them go recognizing people. Lev fits into an odd spot, within the realm of someones. He’s a no one, through and through, but goddamn if his parents aren’t rich as fuck and well networked. He simply doesn’t care for that shit — never has. Currently, he’s sat at the bar looking at pictures of some fucking sculpture garden that features marble schlongs. Don’t ask. “You know,” he starts into the person just to his right, not bothering to really look up. “These fuckers claim to be the biggest, most artistic minds and yet still they can’t seem to come up with new material.” He flashes the image in the direction of present company. “Is it a play on words? Am I missing something?”

[burntbrandy]

[burntbrandy]

#when you’re trying to socialize with morons 

[burntbrandy]

Her brows raised slightly as she turned to look at him, a bit surprised he had chosen to sit beside her.

“I’m not much of an... appreciator of art,” She spoke slowly, clearly choosing her words carefully, “I know when something is appealing, but I can’t say I understand paying out that much for a painting,”

She, at least, was being honest with this stranger. Eun could swear she’s seen this man before but can’t quite place him. Perhaps he just has one of those faces? He had the look of a kind man and given he was perfectly comfortable sitting beside a complete stranger and striking up a conversation, well...

burntbrandy​:

Location: The Gagosian 

Open to: All

Eun is on her second or third drink now, she isn’t fond of counting her drinks, but the night is young and she holds her booze well… besides, she’s not here on business. She relaxes into her seat ever so slightly and tips the frilly martini back, watching the rest of the bar from the sidelines, dark eyes investigating every detail of the world around her. The bidding hasn’t started yet, it won’t for some time, but as a Han she’s always been expected to be present. 

Even if she’s the singular known blemish on their shining reputation. She’s heard rumors of half-siblings. She wouldn’t be surprised, given her father’s presence as more myth than man. She has the signature look of the family- all sharp angles, cold eyes, pin-straight black hair. 

Anyone who’s anyone knows a Han when they see one. Though, currently, she’s relying on the dim lighting of her corner to conceal all that. 

x

 Joaquim had begun to settle into the fray, his heart no longer beating restlessly - caught between various identities, the auction had felt rife for exposure. But the allure of high valued art, endless drinks, buzzing figures of the highest calibre; his identity fell beneath the radar easily, far from the most pressing topic. Taking an open seat, Joaquim checks his watch - the auction was meant to start soon, per the golden invitation which had granted him entrance. He turns to the woman beside him, whose eyes were focused ahead - he clears his throat, reaching for conversation. “Are you looking to bid on any of the big ticket items? I’m sadly amongst those who can only admire a Monet, and not aspire to bring one home; that Caravaggio though - its a hell of a piece, isn’t it?” 

[burntbrandy]

Eun figured she was doing a fine job keeping her claws mostly sheathed, “A kitty can only help her instincts so much,” She took a deep breath and ran a hand down the lapel of her jacket, stamping out the spark for now.

“I’d think so, the color composition is well-balanced and the contrast is just soft enough to be pretty,” She answered honestly, nodding a bit, “But I don’t have much on my walls. I have a few photos, that’s it,”

Which was also honest. Eun didn’t have enough of a liking for art to hang it up nor was she sentimental. Or, at least, she had nothing to be sentimental about. She had a few photos of the Long Island streets and a couple of cinematic photos of her and her dog. Eun was a minimalist, that much could be said.

burntbrandy​:

Or is that just your style?

Eun’s eyes narrowed but she bit her tongue just this once. She didn’t want to start a scene, but she knew that JJ knew about:

1) Her temper.

2) Her violent streak.

and 3) Her skill when it came to expressing those two things. 

But she wouldn’t start a scene. Not this time. She exhaled slowly, clenching her jaw. Save it for Arène… or her battered punching bag. 

“If the shoe fits, JJ,” She responds curtly, “You’re an interesting man. But if you want something else then that last piece would make a fine addition.”

In truth, JJ seemed to be the type to like more classical styles… even if Eun was prone to poking the bear.

—

“Careful with them claws, Han,” he notes of her narrowed eyes, knowing Eun’s blood to run hot under her skin. “We don’t want a kitty to scratch herself.” You put money in their pockets, a roof over their head, a brand new start, a place where their demons can run free. And what do they offer in return? A temper — and the delusion to maybe just get away with it. “Issa fine one, yeah. You right.” There, her opportunity to take the truce. “Gotta consider, though — is it fine enough to wanna look at it err’day?” For such a hefty price, it better be. “What’s on your walls?” 

[burntbrandy]

Location: The Gagosian 

Open to: All

Eun is on her second or third drink now, she isn’t fond of counting her drinks, but the night is young and she holds her booze well... besides, she’s not here on business. She relaxes into her seat ever so slightly and tips the frilly martini back, watching the rest of the bar from the sidelines, dark eyes investigating every detail of the world around her. The bidding hasn’t started yet, it won’t for some time, but as a Han she’s always been expected to be present. 

Even if she’s the singular known blemish on their shining reputation. She’s heard rumors of half-siblings. She wouldn’t be surprised, given her father’s presence as more myth than man. She has the signature look of the family- all sharp angles, cold eyes, pin-straight black hair. 

Anyone who’s anyone knows a Han when they see one. Though, currently, she’s relying on the dim lighting of her corner to conceal all that. 

[burntbrandy]

Or is that just your style?

Eun’s eyes narrowed but she bit her tongue just this once. She didn’t want to start a scene, but she knew that JJ knew about:

1) Her temper.

2) Her violent streak.

and 3) Her skill when it came to expressing those two things. 

But she wouldn’t start a scene. Not this time. She exhaled slowly, clenching her jaw. Save it for Arène... or her battered punching bag. 

“If the shoe fits, JJ,” She responds curtly, “You’re an interesting man. But if you want something else then that last piece would make a fine addition.”

In truth, JJ seemed to be the type to like more classical styles... even if Eun was prone to poking the bear.

burntbrandy​:

Eun, of course, had a drink in hand as well as she gave her associate a glance. She sighed and took a long drink of the overpriced champagne, almost speaking her reply into the glass.

“The abstract piece is certainly…” The woman gave a mild grimace, brow furrowing, “Interesting.”  Her tone made the fact she found it a mockery of art clear. The garish colors clashed and blended in some places to make a putrid almost-green. She could smell the oozing odor of cigarette ash rolling off of it, too. Eun had a feeling some pretentious pseudo-somebody would buy it to claim culture.

—

Interesting isn’t good enough — much less with the attached tone, carrying Eun’s suggestion of its lack of worth. It’d been a serious, honest question — confronted with downscale disdain. 

“Ya think I should have that in my house?” Jacques asks again then, if only for confirmation. “If you like it so much, it’s yours. I’mma giver, honey. Ya can get a,” — wildly expensive and purposeless — “gift.” He huffs a laugh, “Anythin’ that don’t smell like grandma’s closet? Or is that just your style?” 

[burntbrandy]

Eun, of course, had a drink in hand as well as she gave her associate a glance. She sighed and took a long drink of the overpriced champagne, almost speaking her reply into the glass.

“The abstract piece is certainly...” The woman gave a mild grimace, brow furrowing, “Interesting.”  Her tone made the fact she found it a mockery of art clear. The garish colors clashed and blended in some places to make a putrid almost-green. She could smell the oozing odor of cigarette ash rolling off of it, too. Eun had a feeling some pretentious pseudo-somebody would buy it to claim culture.

“Which one ya like?” Keeping a drink close, Jacques observes the line up of paintings awaiting their fate. A different kind for every taste, but not every budget. Still, there’s sure to be competition — and by the time bidding starts, a man better have his mind made. “Living room,” he elaborates the spot. “Gotta be somethin’ big, eh?”