#🔪 ❝ ᵀʰᵉ ᶫᶦᵗᵗᶫᵉ ᵏᶦᶫᶫᵉʳ⋅⋅ ❞ {{ ;; ‘𝓔𝓷𝓿𝔂’ }}

[s-talking]

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐄𝐒 || ♬

+ a lil bonus !

[s-talking]

once envy reaches the end of his journey & ends up succumbing to affliction... consider this his ' rebirth ' song. it just fits him so perfectly, the whole notion of gentleness, lament, abandoned piety & then, & then everything erupts like a storm over the sea; all of the feelings & desires once lost, emerging from straight the depths to sink the whole world into his madness with a single, immaculate wave. ( 1:35 ) oh, i love that scream.

[s-talking]

after so many years, i've written & drawn like a million things regarding envy's eyes, & it's always all fun & games, until you realize that his ' real-life ' eyes would look literally like this:

unfff.

[s-talking]

while i do often say that envy falls under the ' yandere ' trope, seeing how it's a more broad & generally popular term to describe someone with excessively possessive / murderous tendencies linked to their warped outlook on love, that's actually not quite right in regards to him. since you've kindly asked, i'll do my best to delve deeper into what envy actually is. now let us start from the basics, a short summary of what the trope stands for.

THE YANDERE: a common archetype defined by an intense & obsessive love that often escalates into possessiveness, jealousy, & violence. while the yandere characters may appear sweet & devoted on the surface, they may go to extreme lengths ── such as stalking, manipulation, or even murder ── to protect or monopolize the person they adore. their emotional instability typically arises from fear of rejection or abandonment, & their actions, though often irrational or terrifying, are driven by a warped sense of affection. yandere characters are frequently dramatic & shocking, used to explore the darker sides of romance in fictional settings.

while envy does indeed harbour some of these aspects, i'm sure you've also just tilted your head at the keywords such as ' sweet ' & ' afraid, ' because you are right, those don't apply to him whatsoever. envy isn't ' sweet ' but merciful, he isn't ' afraid ' but controlling, which strays from the umbrella term of yandere & falls directly into a subcategory known as kyou ai ── the perfect definition for him.

THE KYOU AI: a less common archtype which defines a love so intense & distorted that it transcends mere obsession, manifesting as a warped ideology or personal truth. unlike the emotionally unstable & impulsively violent yandere character, the kyouai one is often calm, composed, & terrifyingly rational in their madness, genuinely believing their actions are not only justified but necessary in the name of a ' purer ' or ' truer ' form of love. their devotion is absolute & unshakable, sometimes expressed through manipulation, control, or even sacrifice, all under the belief that only they truly understand or are worthy of their beloved. this pattern of thought may not always resort to physical violence; instead, they often exert psychological dominance, isolating or reshaping their love interest's world to fit their own twisted vision. kyouai love is something that rewrites morality, bends any form of personal boundaries, & in its most extreme form, seeks to redefine what it means to love at all.

after reading all this, i'm pretty certain you can see why envy's pinned post never stated straight-up ' yandere ' themes, but ' yandere-esque, ' because he was never precisely that. it's just easier to use an umbrella term which everyone is familiar with & not always bothered to research terms online. moving back to the main point however, here's a little tdlr for those who prefer a picture instead of blocks of text.. ~

all in all, i greatly enjoy writing fictional characters who rest in psychological motifs, let them be horror or merely slice-of-life, & envy just so happens to be a favourite. i've written many villains or morally grey types over the years, like izaya orihara ( drrr! ), dottore ( genshin ), lucilius ( gbf ), ferid bathory ( ons ), goro akechi ( persona 5 ) & etc, etc... but only envy really stuck with me for so long because of just how much has been carefully packed into that human shell. a concept of a fictional character who seems so straightforward at first when it comes to matters of twisted affection, only to reel you into deep-dive where love & devotion turn downright pathological with all boundaries intentionally blurred, like an all-consuming force which will end up changing you even if you manage to somehow escape it... quite like how envy doesn't just kill rivals, but embraces the very meaning of annihilation in name of love.

[s-talking]

She knows many of the customs here, including the one associated with Valentine’s Day. Traditionally, women give their love interest gifts on this day. That is what Harmony intends to do today. The young woman is nervous about it, but she wants to show the Little Killer her affection. She smiles when she approaches his towering figure. He’s mysterious in every way. Harmony knows better but Envy’s allure draws her in like a moth to a flame.

Day by day and bit by bit, Envy did his work, chopping his competition away. The young woman does not push him away, choosing to come to him, just like she is doing on this very night.

Her hand reaches up and gently cups Envy’s cheek. His smooth skin is cool to the touch, contrasting her own warmth. Her thumb gently rubs Envy’s cheek before she leans onto her toes. Soft red lips press a soft kiss on Envy’s lips.

Time slips away from them as they kiss. The petals dance and swirl in the gentle breeze around them. Long dark locks flow along the breeze as long lashes flutter. The kiss breaks, but she’s still just inches from Envy. Her silver eyes look in Envy’s dark gaze as silence falls around them. Lips quirk to a soft smile as her free hand dips into her purse. She retrieves a small, black box adorned with a red ribbon.

Inside the box are an assortment of chocolates from a high-end chocolatier. “Envy, dear…” She finally speaks, “Please accept this gift and my affection. They are to you and only you.”

[Happy Valentine’s Day! 💕]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐗 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌, but it'd be her lips that envy chose to devour in a slow, measured movement, pressing his own cold ones without any urgency or heat ── yet completely deliberate. she could feel it in the way those black nailed hands grasped at her hips, the way he'd tilt his head & their mouths moved together in perfect synchronization, smearing red lipstick in blood-like trails, a sweet taste of cherry shared between them.

by the time harmony broke away to confess, envy was already leaning back in & pushing up against her, grasping & throwing that redundant chocolate box away like trash. it clattered loudly somewhere on the kitchen floor but as always, he didn't hear it. a kiss born of love was more than a gesture, more than a gift & perhaps no different than a sacrificial offering meant to feed into such unholy yearning, only for the hunger to fester, to grow, becoming further unrelenting & insatiable. she was truly like a naïve lamb to believe the throes of passion could possibly save him & even more so for simply coming here, again, all alone & fragrant the way she is. after all, a beast doesn't need a heart to savor what is already 'pon the tongue.

thus he pressed her roughly against a counter & in that same, deliberately slow manner, grazed her bottom lip with a pair of sharp fangs, almost to the point of puncture but not quite ── not quite. a fleeting lick which felt almost like a threat took their place, warning harmony of just how badly he wanted her. that she should be careful. run. still, they both knew how foolish a naïve mind can be when coaxed by dreams & hopes, making the little killer smile just as the kiss once again broke & a brief pause was given, letting their heated breaths mingle instead of words. there never was any need for them, after all...

she was already his.

[s-talking]

[asdjksls Envy has a motorbike?! I must know more! Please tell us about it!]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄:

harley-davidson night rod special. a sleek, black muscle bike with a powerful & aggressive stance. it features a matte black finish that gives it a rather menacing appearance, with a slightly glossy black frame to add some contrast. the bike has low-slung, aerodynamic lines, a wide rear tire, & distinctive angular bodywork. the v-twin engine is exposed, & its design emphasizes the raw, rugged power of the machine. the handlebars are slightly swept-back, giving envy a more forward-leaning position while speeding down on open mississippi roads which usually allow for such high speeds.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃:

long before the name envy came into existence, min-jun was often asked by his adoptive father ethan to join him for a ride on his motorcycle, but the young boy, because of his detached & reclusive nature, didn't find the suggestion very appealing. he would usually stay silent at the question & then glance away in much evident display of disinterest, until the older man just chuckled & ruffled his hair, promising to get min-jun some other time.

this light-hearted interaction continued to happen every week or so, almost for an entire year. ethan was indeed very patient, but any hope for potential bonding finally begun to wane by the time a drafting letter arrived & along with it, the expected sense of duty. there was no choice but to shift priorities, choosing to spend time with his wife & two kids meanwhile preparing for the eventual departure... only for min-jun to suddenly pull at his sleeve. the very first & only time he ever made physical contact.

it was in that moment where the pale boy pointed at the stationed motorcycle, completely stunning ethan who almost gave up on the idea after being denied for so long. perhaps the curtness of the approach was a little strange but, a caring father could never possibly quell the excitement caused by acceptance & so he proceeded to have that long-awaited ride together, unaware of min-jun's dark past & manipulative characteristics. the very notion which inadvertently painted him & the act of departure a mirrored instance to jin-ho's own.

alas, the first day went smoothly to say at least, just how ethan had hoped. the young boy was pretty sceptical & hesitant when mounting the motorcycle, but the second they set off, his parian-like expression had suddenly changed ── a slightest shift, like a crack ── revealing genuine surprise. it was almost surreal. ethan caught the glimpse of the tar black eyes going wide behind the visor, followed by a pair of arms gripping him a bit tighter around the waist, being the most expressive sight ever since the adoption.

little did the poor man realize back then, what min-jun experienced wasn't excitement, fear, or joy, but pure, unadulterated adrenaline. the sheer speed at which they travelled down the long mississippi roads, the sensation of harsh cold wind crashing into their frames, the very idea of own life potentially hanging by a thread, it made his whole body react. at long last, min-jun felt own wretched heart come alive, pumping blood & beating hard against that cold, crude cage, almost like an animal trying to burst its way out. he felt.... he finally, actually felt something....

even as the emotions themselves were missing.

this strange, almost blissful phenomenon engraved itself deeply into the ever-twisting mind of the young boy who would later become one of america's most wanted serial killers. so much so, even years later he doesn't forget it & instead of cars or other means of transport, he still chooses ethan's very own motorcycle.

whether he does so out of simple preference for speedy vehicles or out of genuine sentiment, it remains unknown. but one thing is for certain; from all the memories which were forgotten, he still remembers... him.

[s-talking]

the mindset of a killer. with your gaze, you paint the room.

[s-talking]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐌𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 & 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, his black nailed hands like claws gently scratching down the sides of her gorgeous hips before releasing them fully, almost, with regret. whether miss. scarlett realizes this or not, envy isn't pushy or domineering only to her ── the american epiphany of red riding hood ── the only woman known to be brave enough to dance with the wolves & call it home. he doesn't stop her from fetching the umbrella, trailing those dark, haunting eyes after a glimmer of swaying locks before switching over to the mourning sky outside & the rain.

underneath a blanket of grey light, the streets seem almost dreamlike, with faded buildings adorned by red maple trees & white powdery motes of streetlamps, a zoetrope of dark silhouettes constantly fading into the mist. it's a lovely weather, he thinks, ever so gently pulling the front door wide open where a scent of wet asphalt & petrichor immediately greets him, calling, most sweetly beguiling for a walk without a touch.

a moment silence ensues, during which envy closes his empty eyes & inhales deeply, resting a lone black nailed hand against the wooden doorframe just as the leather suspender across his muscular chest strains for a heartbeat or two before relaxing. ❝ i have... passed on your message... ❞ he finally murmurs, seemingly murmuring to nothing at all, ❝ you may rest now... ❞ the dark lashes flatter like charred wings of a moth as the young serial killer opens his oriental eyes again, but this time to glance over at the empty space between the bar & the foggy window at the back, adding, ❝ you may rest knowing.... that she loves you too... ❞

the shadows slowly lift in that area as if a slow moving tide, welcoming back both the warmth & the light right when miss. scalrett returns with an umbrella at hand, unaware of what just occurred. envy turns in place to face her, holding the café door open all the while inclining his head in refined image of courtesy & devilish charm, ❝ . . . . . ❞ the smile now slowly returning along with an offer of a free arm for her to take.

@s-talking continued from here

Scarlett blushed, her cheeks passing petal pink and diving right into a rose red. She wasn't used to this much physical contact from him or anyone else. She had always played a dance of a light touch here or a passing hug there. Something to give people the air of closeness without really having to touch them. A way to control how she interacts with others. But with Envy's arms locked around her, she found herself outside that bubble of control she prided herself on. What really threw her was the fact that she found she didn't hate it. And that's why she was blushing. But she'd never let him know.

A nervous laugh slipped past her lips, and she glanced away. "In the rain?" Then again, why not in the rain? Scarlett loved the rain. She loved the way the lightning painted the sky. Loved feeling the thunder rumble beneath her feet and reverberate through her body. She leaned back, not to try to get away but only to be able to look up at him. He was taller than her, another thing she appreciated. And another thing she'd keep to herself. "Actually, yes. I quite love that idea. Let me grab my umbrella." Her small staff could handle closing down the bakery without her. They weren't busy anyway. Forcing herself to reclaim control over her thoughts and emotions, she sent him one more smile before turning to extricate herself from his embrace to fetch the umbrella. Unsure if it would really help with how hard it was pouring outside, but she'd make a valiant attempt at keeping them dry.

[s-talking]

A B I M for the alphabet!

⌘ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 || ( accepting. )

affection. ( how do they show love & affection? how intense would it get? ) in order to understand envy's perspective on such matters, it's imperative for my writing partners to read this particular headcanon of ' true love ' vs ' obsession ' here, as his actions & point of view towards said darling shall heavily vary on this sole factor at play. now, assuming that's been read, i'll just go ahead & answer the question: envy enjoys the physical aspect of affection far more than the verbal one, & it's not always in a traditional sense, such as hugs, kisses or sex. regardless if we are talking about mutual or unrequited love, envy has always been a dominant man & the long years spent in new eden have done nothing more than reinforce his desire to be assertive. as such, he can & often will subjugate his darling, let it be subtly or very, very roughly...

a small example of ' subtle ' love / affection: exploring their scars with slow, delicate touches, offering gifts meant to inconspicuously mark them as his property, writing love-letters, adapting to their personal preferences ( even extremes ), paying their bills, or whispering deliberate words in their ear which eventually will become engrained deep into their mind. a small example of ' rough ' love / affection: carving own name into their flesh, restraining them with handcuffs, ropes, killing anyone that gets in the way or the darling likes, including perfect strangers or relatives alike, isolating them from the world, forcing own fangs deep enough to leave ( near often ) permanent scars, as well as attempting to kill ' them ' due to a sudden surge of overwhelming feelings ( like burning jealousy or sadistic desire caused by pure infatuation ).

needless to say, while envy isn't typically violent towards his darling, his supposed love & affection can be suffocating, & sometimes, deadly.

blood. ( how messy are they willing to be when it comes to their darling? )

that's not even a question. as one of the most wanted serial killers in america, what are a few or a dozen corpses? for his darling, he will make sure the whole mississippi river runs red with blood should they merely ask, or if his own wicked mind conjures a reason. oh, may god have mercy especially on those who hurt or upset his darling in particular, for he most certainly won't. & trust me when i say this, dying would be a blissful thought in comparison to all the vile things he would have in store for them. after all, if he has patience to research thoroughly about his darling & their life, he will surely have just as much patience to research another & dismantle them like a toy ── bit. by. every. agonizing. bit.

ideals. ( what kind of future do they have in mind for / with their darling? )

the future is sole factor that even he isn't certain of, seeing how each night envy steps closer & closer to drowning in his own repeating dream, feeling something shift inside. changing. something terrible. a sense of humanity gradually slipping away like a handful of sand, but... with them? just one look into those eyes & he forgets, even as the sunlight begins to scorch, even as the hole inside grows deeper & deeper, making him yearn all the more for a heart that was promised at the end of this journey. to finally have a shot at a future, with them.

in truth, envy always wondered what it'd be like to have a proper home. a quiet place without a basement full of corpses or a garden with wilted flowers. just a normal, peaceful life with his grandmother & the precious darling, his knife underneath a blanket of dust.

or so the madman wishes, still following that thing's footsteps.

mask. ( are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? )

yes, & no. with a hefty bounty over his head, envy naturally has to lie about his true identity ( often stealing those of his male victims, such as their names, id cards, phones, or even adapting their entire behaviour / look so long they are visually similar ), but otherwise, envy is pretty straightforward with the things he says or does. the only roadblock being his struggle with speech ── semi-mutism ── along those fleeting emotions. when he can't feel anything at all, which is the usual case, he will put up a mask accordingly & mimic whichever emotions & gestures are necessary for the current occasion at hand, especially in regards to his darling.

to put it simply, while he is generally honest with his intent, the affliction combined with his silent persona make it near impossible not to lie or at the very least pretend. well, unless there is something that he needs to keep hidden. plotting things tends to come with the territory when you are one of the most wanted serial killers.

[s-talking]

                                  𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

throughout his many years in captivity, often in isolation, min-jun had spent much of his time sitting in restraints & just watching; the nurses, the patients, the doctors, & even the white hues which devoured every tile, wood, & stone; looking like an eerie mannequin strapped to a wheelchair. he has watched it all, daily, & it was never by choice. bound by harsh ropes & leather, min-jun watched how psychiatrists weaved their little word games, how nurses coaxed others into a false sense of security, & how countless crude tools were used by surgeons to carefully dismantle both the mind & body of a person. he has watched himself become bleached from inside out, slowly torn into pieces & shred, & then put together all over again but even then, not even for a second has he ever stopped watching.

before min-jun realized, this senseless routine has become an indulgence. he started to actually enjoy the whole gruelling prospect, just staring & analysing for hours on end until he was no longer strapped in his mind, but sitting across himself: a prey in shoes of a hunter. min-jun gradually learned from the finest that new eden sanatorium had to offer, day by day memorizing their manipulative tactics, how & what to administer, the very workings of restraints & the restraining alike, as well as what each crude tool on the silver tray does. he had relentlessly watched & learned throughout the years full of solitude & torment, adapting, improving; evolving. none of the patients or the staff even suspected how the silent man was the one eventually playing them, using their own words & gestures with practiced ease.

& now.... ? & now that their snow white halls have turned to black ash, he still continues to watch others from the other seat, calculating, memorizing, & dissecting them with sharpness of a surgeon & brilliance of a psychologist, a senseless smile carved to that ever beautiful, plastic face.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀 𝐈: min-jun ( mainly in his new eden verse / the main verse ) can sometimes sit in one spot for as long as ten hours, just to watch a person. the rain won't bother him. the curtains won't stop him. on most occasions the other won't even know that he is ' there ' unless he decides to finally make a move & get out of hiding. the same goes for stalking. once he is in the zone, it's a similar effect of gaining the tunnel vision ── a sense of extreme hyperfocus ── where everything else outside of immediate vicinity just ceases to exist.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀 𝐈𝐈: the act of watching & dissecting people is something he naturally does & often doesn't realize, which in turn leads to very uncomfortable ( if not downright disturbing ) situations where those dead black eyes are intensely staring at the other without blinking. it's not something he or anyone else can control, even if pointed out.

[s-talking]

46 - on a tranquil beach at sunrise.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐊𝐘, like a handful of caradonna petals smeared across the empty space just above the ocean, leaving only the most beautiful gradient of lavender & pink to usher a new sun. it slowly rises over the glistening waters, spilling the first beams of light athwart the golden sand towards which he now walks, stepping onto the beach as though stepping into a memory.

it feels... familiar.... yet also nothing like the monochrome shores haunting his dreams. envy has never witnessed something so genuinely enchanting before, so picturesque, that he fails to even remember as to why he came here today to begin with until a shadow is spotted ahead, a motionless figure laying in the sand. ❝ . . . . ? ❞ slowing his already nonchalant pace, envy stops right beside what appears to be a young unconscious woman, dressed in the most elegant & unseemly attire he'd ever seen; a long, white gown adorned with golden laces; an actress, perhaps?

tilting own head ever so slightly, the young serial killer continues to loom over her almost like an angel of death, with a pale face & dead black eyes leering down from above. cold. so very, dreadfully, cold. ❝ . . . . . . ❞ it'd be just so easy to kill her. a single cut across the neck & there would be no more pain, confusion, or sorrow, only an eternity without the physical shackles we call ' a body ' & yet, & yet... he eventually descends not to kill or take, but to touch her beautiful face in a gentlest manner possible ── his senseless yearning, so sweetly hushed by the lull of the ocean waves.

[s-talking]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐋, applying too much force, the wrong angle, sometimes even the whole approach but, try & try again, & it becomes easy. effortless. one day you find yourself scrambling about with a racing heart & another humming your favourite song as you are carving away, slowly, nonchalantly; truly apathetic. this is precisely how he had felt when he murdered that poor old man, jabbing a butterfly-knife right into his wrinkled throat as though a butcher cutting into an aged piece of meat.

envy not once heard his gargles, nor saw the tears, having become so much a prisoner of own madness that the thick fountain of blood was all he could possibly think about at the time. it was just so warm. so very, very pleasant & distracting against the cold of own fingers ── almost like sweet summer wine. by the time eun arrived & envy saw his passing shadow within the tinted glass door, it was already much too late.

therefore, like any seasoned madman would do, envy instead attempting to hide or climb out through an open window, he merely wiped his palms, retrieved an elegant black overcoat from the nearby coat rack & placed it on himself before ruthlessly prying a blood-stained clipboard from those dead hands. ❝ oh... don't look at me like that... ❞ he cooed, throwing a brief glance at the dark corner of the empty room; ❝ at least you are together with your wife now.... aren't you? ❞

a wicked smile crossed his pale lips, yet never reached the dead black eyes themselves in the interim of straightening up & recomposing, adapting a new mask which soon enough opened the door. ❝ ah... do excuse me for the wait... ❞ the little killer now greets the other 'pon entry, closing the door as quickly & quietly as one may in order to shield the rather uncanny sight. ❝ & you must be── ❞ a quick glance at the clipboard is given,

❝ eun hyun, correct? ❞

@sosordid ( eun. ) || ♡'d starter.

[s-talking]

@mayoinomori || cont.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 & 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊, enveloped in the veil of night that never seems to go out. what is more bizarre however is the fact he doesn't even smell of human flesh, but of wilting flowers; the charmingly vintage kind, like poppies left on a grave. it's uncanny. no human being can possibly mask or erase their own scent in entirety, but his one did. it's gone. that beautifully inauspicious smell has become the unmoving shadow before her, standing so very close, yet just outside the ring of light cast by her lantern.

❝ a... guardian... ❞ he murmurs, ever so slightly tilting his head. even in the near pitch black, she can still feel those terrible eyes weighting down on her. staring. burrowing. not even for a moment looking away almost as if robin stumbled 'pon something she shouldn't. something which makes this dark forest seem even darker, & his hushed voice fitting into its deafening stillness; ❝ am i... dreaming... ? ❞

there seems to be a genuine confusion in those words but, are they true? who knows. the young woman can rely only 'pon her own judgement as the murderer speaks up again after a brief moment of rather heavy silence, ❝ i'm seo-jun.... ❞ the lantern catches his hand briefly, its long, black nailed fingers moving to settle over the chest. ❝ i... don't really know what i'm doing here.... or what this ' here ' is... ❞ a dangerous, cursed forest she said, but envy feels like he is hallucinating ── a madman walking on air ── because nothing made any sense to him. nothing. & that's dangerous.

❝ can you... help me? ❞

[s-talking]

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐌𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 & 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 as they sit together by a restaurant table, their silhouettes mistily outlined by a vintage window just beside. min-jun glances at it briefly, dragging his dark eyes across the skilfully crafted mahogany frame adorned with a wisteria garland, & then through the foggy glass where january snow is slowly coating butte ( montana ) underneath a twinkling veil. he watches how strangers walk by, dressed in parkas, cotton hats & scarfs, only to fade as shadows into the white nothingness. it's a strange but alluring sight, almost like a life-like silent film. min-jun finds himself momentarily lost in it without realizing, his chin resting on top of own joined fingers as both elbows are on the table, an empty plate between them.

if it weren't for harmony finally deciding on her meal, perhaps min-jun would have stayed here just like this until closing time or until someone decided to bother him, but alas, the bride's sweet voice as if a melody lures him right back to sit among the living, straightening up in his cushiony seat. ❝ oh... ❞ he smiles slightly, dragging the menu closer, ❝ see anything... you like... ? ❞

@chronicparagon || ♡'d starter.

[s-talking]

@iwasprogrammedtolove

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍, when the sky begins to bleed, it is still dark under the canopies below. the parched, brittle leaves of the twisting maple trees are letting lose from their branches, only for rest to narrow the sunlight to mere slithers. envy finds himself trapped beneath it all, leaning in, a broad shoulder pressed up against a trunk in silence. he can barely register the young woman's presence, much too occupied with own plethora of ever-changing thoughts ── until she speaks. a most gentle, lofty voice.

like the spring, envy thinks, she sounds radiant, empathetic.... kind. oh, what wouldn't he give to feel the warmth of those softly spoken words, to swallow them entirely & fill the wretched void in his chest but, he can't. not now. not today. the sharp stinging at the abdomen is simply far too distracting, fresh blood oozing like fine wine from between the black-nailed fingers. ❝ i... ❞ he should just brush her off, not for own sake, but hers & yet, & yet, ❝ i need... a bandage... ❞ misery loves company, it seems.

[s-talking]

@mannequinentity || cont.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 does not ease any of the suspicion envy has, but the curiosity on the other hand, oh... that is a completely different matter. ❝ shizuki.... ? ❞ the name instantly rings a bell, & it shows. he doesn't attempt to hide it in his own voice however, almost as if the name invokes a particularly pleasant memory ── like a drop of honey 'pon the tongue ── but not quite, no. there's is something amiss in the way he retorts, standing so very still the way he does, seemingly friendly & passive yet those black empty eyes couldn't be anymore colder, pressing into the other with unsettling weight, almost, sinister.

when the cold autumn wind sweeps through the withered garden, making the dead leaves rustle, envy speaks up again & this time, with a hint of a smile. ❝ how do you.... know him..... ? ❞