advyeji-blog

[advyeji-blog]

advhongbin:

Yeji can be too much sometimes. 

Hongbin’s not so terribly introverted that he finds himself drained of energy just from being around certain kinds of people, but there’s always some sensation of sighing dread that comes with working with Yeji. Maybe it’s because she always seems so… ambitious, amped up about something that he hardly ever understands. Maybe it’s because he always seems to be the target of that ambition whether he likes it or not.

Actually, that’s probably the exact reason right there. Too bad he’s too busy groaning, face down in the grass, wondering how the hell she managed to find him after he’d put so much thought (see also: not too much thought) into trying to ditch her this afternoon.

“Yeah,” he grunts, an answer to her first suspicion that only manages to come off as vague and easily misconstrued. He was, in fact, skipping out on the session they’d planned, but alas – how successful that plan had been was clearly seen here. “How’d y’even – what were you doing – hunting?” He should probably know better, given who he’s talking to; Yeji’s good at that, after all, so there’s no real surprise to be had in the idea of her hunting him down like this.

Even if it is, again, too much as far as Hongbin’s concerned. 

It’s not much because it’s Yeji that he has no issue whatsoever with pushing himself up just enough to sharply turn to throw her off – it takes a bit of work, even though she’s not all too heavy, but the purpose of not training with her was because he wasn’t interested in it. Really, he would’ve been this kind of rough with anyone who’d decided to pounce on him out of nowhere, but Yeji gets the bonus treatment because she is, in fact, who she is. 

Maybe he puts a little extra power behind it just because he knows she’s excited. No one can call him out on it right now. Maybe he’s just a little bitter because now it’s gonna be even harder to lose her trail now that she’s onto him. 

(Actually, that gives him a bit of an idea.)

“Yah, Yeji.” he’s still grumbling just as much, even as he dusts off his clothes and pushes himself up. “Let’s play a game.” 

Maybe she is too much. That’s probably accurate; Yeji’s always a bit too much, too excited, to into it -- maybe that’s why she’s here in the first place, though. If Yeji wasn’t “too much”, she’d just be human -- just average, just normal, certainly not a potential. It’s a difference between her and a lot of the mutants around her, one she’s not all that keen on to begin with; she’s too much because if she wasn’t at least a little over the top, she wouldn’t belong here even more than she already wonders sometimes if she does.

(Alright, that’s enough emo introspection for one week.)

She wiggles excitedly on top of Hongbin, without any real thought to it -- “’Course I was hunting, hunting’s what I do,” she explains matter-of-factly, as if it’s literally the most obvious statement she could make. “Predator intuition or whatever, right?” This is why she’s here, what she’s spent years honing her senses to become -- it’s who she is. Even Hongbin, with his ridiculously supernatural levels of stealth, leaves a trail -- one Yeji is more than enthusiastic to follow.

Yeji’s rather unceremoniously pushed off of the man, though she catches herself somewhat gracefully on her butt considering that -- she doesn’t show any signs of being offended at being roughhoused, which is probably because it doesn’t offend her in the slightest. She likes that kind of honest roughness, too -- that sharp edge that Hongbin has makes her grin more than it bothers her.

If she had a tail to wag, it’d definitely be wagging here; her eyes hum mechanically as they focus on Hongbin a bit more clearly, exiting out of the hyper-detail mode she’d needed to track him. “I’m down,” she says as plainly as anything, shoving herself upright in one smooth motion -- not much minding the fact that there’s some grass on her knees and backside too. “What kinda game?”

╳ cat and mouse.

[advyeji-blog]

advwoohyun

yeji’s snarling and woohyun snorts, smug, twisted smirk on his face because she looks and sounds just like an angered cat when she does it. two fingers stick out in a salute as he chuckles, the sound void of mirth due to his horrible mood. his shoe kicks at the ground, scuffing and making a squeaking noise as he observes her quietly. he cocks his head she speaks, one eye sharp as he listens—tongue poking against his cheek.

maybe he just has horrid luck with jewelry. something smaller, maybe? the phrase go big, go home, probably has nothing to do with gems and such (unless it’s an engagement ring, which woohyun would probably be caught dead before that happened). his eyebrows furrow and his nose scrunches up, eyes falling to the necklace with a scowl.

“noted.” he states dryly, shifting in place before rubbing the back of his neck. “it was for a girl. but she didn’t want it, that—“ bitch is on his tongue, but he sucks in a sharp breath and shuts an eye, hand reaching up to rub two fingers into his temple tiredly in an attempt to curb a headache. “…girl didn’t want it. and i don’t wear this shit so i don’t want it. keep it. it probably makes a pretty penny.” one shoulder lifts in a shrug. “i thought it might be nice. i didn’t really care what it looked like—it was expensive and most girls like when you spend money on them. but clearly, this idea was shot to shit.”

he can’t help his irritation, not when it practically rolls off of him in waves. 

Yeji’s every bit an irritated cat, bristled and practically hissing -- she’s always been a bit too ready to show teeth, even in expressions that really don’t need them to function. It’s funny, too, because she’s got no fangs to show -- but it’s almost like she doesn’t know that, with the way she expresses herself.

Woohyun’s kind of annoying, she thinks -- but not dreadfully more so than a lot of people she’s met. She wouldn’t trust him farther than she could throw him, probably, but she applies that metaphor to a lot of people. She’s just quick to agitate, especially these days when something seems to constantly be nagging at her -- she doesn’t even know what that is.

A muted click of the tongue turns into a bit of a hiss in her mouth as her lips turn up just a bit -- something’s funny about Woohyun, too, probably just his utter cluelessness. It isn’t like Yeji’s a fashionista -- she probably hasn’t worn anything other than the color black in the past few years -- but hell, she at least knows what’d look good on a girl. Shouldn’t he know that too?

“Gotcha,” Yeji drawls, glancing the necklace over a few times. “I’ll, uh, figure out something to do with it I guess.” She lets out a sigh that’s part growl, then glances back at Woohyun with her steel eyes lidded in vague exasperation. It’s not like Yeji hates the guy -- she almost feels bad, almost.

“It’s not that your idea was bad, oppa -- you just went about it all wrong,” she sighs, shrugging one shoulder and closing her eyes. “If you’re gonna buy somethin’ for a girl to wear, like... think about if you’d like to see it on her, not what it costs.” Yeji blinks a few times, brows still partly arched at the other vigil. She pockets the necklace -- tired of looking at it, partly. “If you don’t like how it’d look, ‘s probably not a good bet.” 

(No one has ever accused her of giving great advice, but hey, there’s something sensible in there somewhere. Maybe.)

jewels and gems.

[advyeji-blog]

advtaek

taekwoon wonders what it’s like to step out of routine.

he’s so used to doing things, so used to falling into the same every day cycles. he’s never had an issue with it—not once. taekwoon likes to know when things are happening, likes to be ahead of the game and he likes to not be blind sided. he likes to be in bed by eleven pm, and up by six in the morning to get ready for the day. he likes to train for approximately three hours after breakfast, rest up, then train for a couple hours. eat, then train—relax, train, then eat. it’s a careful, crafted cycle that’s flexible if needed, but taekwoon feels little need to step out of comfort.

but the one time he does—the one time he does everything just reverts back, puts him right at the starting page once more.

he’s never been good with crying people. or women, for that matter. taekwoon’s used to apathy or he’s used to anger, or he’s used to smiling. crying is something he’ll never really get over—so when he stumbles across yeji’s sobbing form, taekwoon stares for a long moment.

all because he sleeps in a few hours more than extra. taekwoon swallows thickly and hesitates before he moves, careful steps as he favors his non fragile leg, eyebrows pinched in the middle as he approaches. yeji’s a strong girl, one that has cornered him and all but guilted him to spend a couple moments fighting her. this? this is strange, not normal. taekwoon is at a loss at what to do, so he only stares with his mouth opening and closing several times.

“…yeji-yah?” he raises his voice to be heard, though she’s sure she should have by now. yeji’s senses have never been completely wrong, but he’s still careful. his tongue pokes at his cheek as he scoots closer and slowly squats down, looking at the girl cautiously. “yeji,” he tries again. he wants to at least pat her shoulder but he thinks it’s probably not the best time. “why are you—sitting here, like this and –“ he swallows, uncomfortable. “...crying? are you okay? are you injured?”

It hits her late that there’s someone there. It’s weird -- she’s usually on top of things, ears and eyes and nose open for every little change in her environment, but right now her eyes are full of tears that she’s sure aren’t good for her prosthetics and her ears are ringing and her nose is a little gross, and sure as hell her mind’s not in the right place to process her senses.

So it’s weird not knowing that someone is there until they speak -- not totally realizing it in a conscious way, anyway. It throws her off and she flinches for it, internally cursing herself for getting so over-emotional. That’s not like her either, is it? None of this feels like it’s “like her”. She’d much rather stay simple.

Better yet is just whose voice it is; she knows that soft tone immediately and it finds her biting her lip to try to keep any stupid pitiful noises from escaping. Like hell she wants to be so small and weak in front of anyone -- but not Taekwoon for sure. She has way too much stupid admiration built up in her bones for him.

Yeji gets a little smaller, somehow, shifting so that she can hug one knee to her chest like a security blanket, and drops her face into the crook of her elbow. She sniffs, trying not to whimper; she can’t bring herself to look at him. How can she even explain herself? “It’s stupid,” she finally mumbles in a voice much too shaky for her comfort, “It’s really stupid. I’m stupid.”

A few more quiet seconds pass as she breathes, trying to gather herself -- it’s a weird experience, really. She doesn’t think she likes it. “It’s not fair, oppa. They -- so many of them don’t even want to have powers. They just wanna live normal lives. And me -- my dad --” she chokes up, huddles into herself a little tighter, “-- my dad’s one, but I’m not. They checked. It isn’t fair.” Despite the fact that her face is mostly buried in her arm, she manages a tiny smile -- she peeks up a bit, too, though she still doesn’t look at Taekwoon.

“This probably all sounds totally ridiculous to you, huh?”

╳ human error.

[advyeji-blog]

Bless the fact that the foundation is full of people who are great at shit, honestly.

Yeji lost touch with the guy who originally installed her eyes back when her dad disappeared, and the guy who’d been tuning them up every so often in turn -- which meant that they were only getting older and buggier with each passing day. The fact that they’ve been getting stuck in one setting or another lately has been driving her especially batty; if she’s gonna have eyes, they better be useful and not give her a headache. If they’re gonna give her a headache all the time, she’d just as soon not have them at all -- she got on pretty well being basically blind as a kid, right.

Eh, she’d rather not go back to that if she had the choice, though.

She found out about this guy -- a robotics vigil, she’s been told -- through the grapevine and a couple of friends, and she couldn’t be more thrilled that there’s someone who might be able to upgrade her prosthesis. Or just fix them. Or make new ones? Honestly, she couldn’t care less as long as it ends up with less headaches and more functional eyesight.

Yeji’s got this weird fearlessness about her, to be sure -- it may have been a while but she’s pretty used to people poking around in her eyeholes and checking out these things. It’s not like she feels anything there and it’s not like she actually has to blink with metal eyes. The idea of it should probably be scary, that she’s letting a stranger stick things in her eyes and examine how they work -- but it really isn’t, to her, almost like she really has nothing to lose here. She’s just got her chin propped up in one hand as she stares forward, letting Changsub gather his nerves or whatever he’s doing over there.

“Yeah, they’re not sensing light right now anyway,” she comments -- she’s been stuck on infrared for a while now, because at least it’s versatile and doesn’t afford her any headaches most of the time. “Won’t bother me a bit, Changsub-oppa -- don’t worry.” This is another of her quirks -- always referring to people a bit too familiarly, even if they hardly know her. And yet again, she does it without fear.

Yeji gives a small hum of thought at the question of her eyes’ age; when was it that she had the things put in? “Uh... I think I was fourteen? Fifteen?” She resists the urge to tilt her head -- doesn’t need to move while Changsub has a screwdriver in her eye. “I’m twenty-two now, so that’d be like... seven or eight years ago. The guy who put ‘em in used to check ‘em out every once in a while too, though -- so it’s been more like two or three years since they got tuned up, ‘cause I haven’t done that since I came to Daybreak.”

She shrugs a little. “They’re super experimental or whatever. Pretty nifty shit -- when they work, I mean.”

voided warranty .:

@advyeji

Changsub’s not sure if there’s proper protocol for this.

Is it really even appropriate for a tech guy like him to be poking around in someone’s face, cybernetics notwithstanding? It doesn’t really feel all that more medical than poking around in a bot’s head to him – metal and silicone don’t feel any less real to him, anyway – but the fact there’s living flesh under his hands makes them shake more nervously than is appropriate for someone performing this kind of examination and extraction.

He reaches for the little toolkit he’s brought with him and draws out a small flashlight and a thin screwdriver just to poke around in Yeji’s prosthetic eye.

There is no less to say of the girl sitting in front of him, undaunted by the fact Changsub’s going to poke things in her eyeholes and take one of her peepers out (and her general, confident air) that makes the task seem all the more intimidating. (The task – it’s the task he’s intimidated by – he won’t think about the fact that it’s gonna be exposed flesh and veins and ugh or how easily she could squash him were he to mess up – even though those thoughts might have occurred once or twice.)

He’s already glanced at them, hesitantly touched around the sockets to get a better look and instantly made himself jittery at the thought of what he’s attempting, but he sighs quietly aloud and reminds himself he’ll have plus one cybernetic eye to poke and prod at his leisure when he’s finished.

(He’d just use his hands to get the eye out, but they seem a bit too ungainly for the task – something tells him Yeji’s not going to protest if he sticks them right in the prosthetic, but that just unnerves him further.)

Still – A job’s a job, and he is, in fact, very interested in examining Yeji’s somewhat glitchy prosthetics. He braces himself and tries not to think about the fact he’s looking her directly in the eye as he presses around the socket again with the tips of his fingers.

“Is it fine if I go ahead and shine this in there? These are… pretty impressive.”

He feels like a strange combination of a optometrist and a dentist when he clicks the flashlight on, and tries to not think about that also (…since aren’t you also supposed to be afraid of the dentist instead of the other way around?)

“How long ago was it you said you got these put in? Or I guess if you know how old these actually are?”

[advyeji-blog]

The kick to her leg hurts but not enough to stop her while the adrenaline high’s still pumping in her blood; being tackled full-force, though, has Yeji hissing and falling backwards, head ringing with the unpleasant sound of her head smacking against concrete. Somewhere in the fuzz of her unconscious, she wonders if it’s even worth worrying about losing brain cells at this point -- and something a bit less intelligible about having a girl on top of her, both of which aren’t worth paying mind to right now.

Yeji thrashes, hands clawing angrily to stop her opponent’s arms from moving -- she’s looking for an opportunity to strike back, only to be caught off guard as well when the girl on top of her suddenly recoils. She blinks out of habit, prosthetic eyes clicking -- switching out of infrared view to finally get a good look at her opponent.

It’s so stupidly irrelevant who she is, but there’s this weird pause in the atmosphere over them both -- "I’m fuckin’ human,” she hisses, distaste bitter on her tongue, “And that’s it.” And somehow, it brings the anger boiling straight to the surface again just to say it.

She leverages her weight and the pause in her opponent’s motions to get her arms and legs around her and flip their positions -- she’s had plenty of practice, drills of this sort of thing. Her fists throb but she doesn’t give pause for it; she throws punches one after another, fast and angry things completed by the seemingly permanent snarl on her face.

She stops when she hears someone shouting; it’s far enough away for now, but it’s a problem that actually, finally, registers in her head. She doesn’t need trouble; it only just now hits her. (She’s sure Daybreak would at least get her out of prison, but she really doesn’t want to deal with it.)

crazy dog

advyeji:

(…)

It doesn’t even register in Yeji’s mind that she’s in a public place – that people are probably starting to stare, that someone will probably call the cops if this keeps up. Everything’s just red, angry, hurt and be hurt, fight and flee – if only she was half the animal she’s tried to make of herself.

Most of Joy’s reactions to humans are subconsciously one of superiority. It rankles to have to hold back, to have to force her strength away because there are people watching and murder is not a useful thing in this situation. Fear fuels anger fuels bloodlust, and having to control it all while trying to concentrate on her opponent is a disadvantage she’d never thought she would experience.

She sees the other girl shift her centre of gravity, assumes immediately she’s going to kick, and watches for legs instead of the punch that comes her way. Joy’s return kick to her calf is marred by the punch she doesn’t see coming, only manages to move slightly out the way. She catches the punch on her side instead, impact cushioned by the way the other girl’s fist glances off, but it hurts, nonetheless, still knocks the wind out of her and most of her determination to humiliate the other.

Fuck this.

Joy tackles her to the ground, sits bodily on the other girl to restrain her movement. She’s going to end it, short and sweet, doesn’t like or care for the attention the stupid girl’s bringing them. The idea is to lay low, not pick fights with strangers. “Fuck you,” she snaps, but whatever else she’d been about to say is lost when she notices the girl’s eyes, unnatural grey irises. She reels back without thinking, her hold on the girl unconsciously weakening, confused by this mishmash of a girl, all strength and fists and anger and unnaturally human.

She doesn’t like it, doesn’t quite know how to deal with the discomfort that’s edged far too quickly into fear. “Who are you,” she says, again, a demand rather than a question.

[advyeji-blog]

yixingadv

Although Yixing’s attacks are nothing other than a memorized pattern, devoid of an actual comprehension of each singular move, he comes to feel as if he is in control; the two of them have been going back and forth between dodging and attacking, which feels like a personal achievement. In contrast to the situation at hand, he would normally be landed a hit onto not even a few minutes into practice. This time around, it feels only normal for him to think that he’s doing something right for a change.

That’s until something goes wrong and his wrist is grabbed and whatever pride he felt until then, comes crashing down as he’s gives a push backward to fall onto one of the mats. Yixing groans when his body collides with the mat, though the sound cracks and breaks off the moment he’s straddled by his sparring partner. With eyes as wide as saucers and color-stained cheeks, he silently gazes upward at Yeji and wonders how she’s capable to be so casual about things when she’s practically on top of him – think straight, Yixing. (hah!)

“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” he manages to sputter after a small pause, even though he doesn’t look fine in the least – his pride might be a bit hurt, but that’s nothing compared with the high level of embarrassment which he felt towards himself due to the position the two of them were stuck in. Silently, he wishes to not think about it so much, because it shouldn’t be that great of a deal; it still is, though.

An attempt is given at hinting that he’d like for Yeji to move off as he shifts uncomfortable and attempts to prop himself up onto his arms while trying to sit up. He’s not less comfortable in all of this, so if all fails, Yixing tries to give a bit of sense to these events by asking a question that he’s long sought an answer for. “Hey, uh… How do you make everything come naturally? Because I feel like no matter what I do or for how long I train, the moves are still mechanical.”

She’d feel stupid, but that’s kind of her natural state of being -- what she’s done would make perfect sense in a different context, it just happens to be really foolish in this one. Ah, context. That would require her to think more about what she’s doing when she fights, which wouldn’t make her half the fighter she is. So then, whatever, who cares. Not Yeji, that’s for sure.

She leisurely climbs off of her poor victim’s chest after he tries to sit up -- no sense keeping the poor guy trapped there when she’s not actually planning on doing anything to him. Yeji stands up to her totally unimpressive height and offers a hand to help Yixing stand; he may be taller than her, but she doesn’t really have any concern that he’ll be too heavy.

“Practice,” she answers with complete confidence, nodding firmly, “A hell of a lot of practice.” She grabs Yixing’s hand and pulls him to a standing position, offering a fearlessly confident little grin as he rights himself. “I’ve been doing this since I was thirteen, oppa -- and not just in a classroom, if you get me there. You’ve been here for what, a few months?” She stretches her arms, hooking her elbow around each to pull the kinks in her muscles loose.

“I got my ass kicked a lot when I was young, too. You just gotta keep at it -- you’ll get good at it if you fuck up enough times.” Ah, simplistic wisdom. It may also be that Yeji has more natural aptitude for this than many people do, or that starting young did her some favors -- but she wouldn’t hear any of that. She’s a vigil; she chose her path, she wasn’t born this way. It comes with the territory.

“Actually,” she tilts her head, thinking. “I think the important thing for you is to loosen up. Following drills is great for building muscle memory, but when you’re actually sparring with someone, you gotta just let it happen. Don’t think too hard about each move, just go with what feels right. You probably feel mechanical because you’re trying too hard, yeah?”

Another nod, satisfied. “Wanna go another round? I’ll try not to go so hard on you this time.”

— hot & cold。

[advyeji-blog]

advyoongi

He’s still staring at this chick like she’s got a third eye. She’s at least got some sort of a sense of humor about this situation, which is probably a good thing. Yoongi himself has almost none when it comes to- well… Anything, really. He’s just not the kind of guy who finds himself laughing at much. None the less, he’s glad this girl’s got a sense of humor because it makes him feel a little less like an idiot for what’s going on. Sure, she’s probably laughing at him just a little, but if he laughed much he’d probably laugh at himself too. This scenario’s pretty stupid, after all. He’s sort of an idiot too.

And now he’s circled back to feeling down on himself.

He looks at her hand- mind taking a bit too long before he flinches away. It’s a natural reaction, albeit a delayed one. His mind instantly says that he shouldn’t be touching someone because of his mutation. It takes him about another couple seconds to recall that he’s high as a kite and that means the smog couldn’t begin to come out if it wanted to. By the time he’s done his thinking, she’s reached down to pull him out without really caring about whether or not he’s okay with it. He stumbles a bit- head sort of fuzzing up nice and good again for a few second before he manages to get his footing again. Over all, the process probably takes about fifteen seconds, but Yoongi processes it at a much slower rate and thinks it took about five minutes.

“Huh?” Is his immediate reaction to being asked a question, not because he didn’t hear it, but because his brain isn’t sure what to do with hearing things at the moment. A few seconds later he’s messing with his own hair and sort of nodding. He still feels a bit like- well… He still feels like what just happened, indeed, happened. It makes sense that his head feels as empty or full of the wrong stuff with him being high and dealing with head trauma. Light head trauma, but still head trauma. 

“Sittin’ down sounds good.” His words are stretched out despite their whispered tone. “Soberin’ up… sounds nice.”

This guy’s a mess, and a bit of an idiot -- but hell, Yeji wouldn’t lay claim to being any different, and she doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to think straight. (Okay, maybe she has that, but that’s a totally different usage of the word straight.) She’s not really patient but she doesn’t really think it’s a good plan to leave this guy alone or anything -- Hansol doesn’t like him, said he’s dangerous, so there’s probably some grain of truth to that somewhere. Wherever Hansol hides those damn things.

Either way, she just nods a few times -- as if to be sure he gets the message with his slowed-down brain -- with the same lopsided smile on her lips. “Good plan. There’s a nice quiet place that isn’t a shady-as-shit back alley right around the block there,” Yeji explains, pointing in the direction of the mentioned spot. She knows because sometimes the sights and sounds and smells get to be too much and she has to find somewhere to let her senses reboot. It seems fitting for this mess, too.

“C’mon, man,” she forces herself up under his arm, slinging it over her shoulder brusquely to be sure he can walk between the high and the head trauma he’s sure to be reeling from. “Walk with me, it isn’t too far.”

The walk passes quietly, if a bit dizzily for lack of better term; along the way she pauses the guy against the entrance of a convenience store to grab a couple of bottles of light soda. It really isn’t that far to the edge of a small park, though, where a few hobos are scattered about (not that Yeji pays them any mind); she settles the guy (Younghee? Yoongi? was it something like that? whatever) on a bench before plopping down next to him and putting one of the bottles to his head.

“So, why’d you do it?” she asks, curious but without much intent; “You obviously can’t handle yourself in a fight, dude. Why’d you try to take that guy on?”

╳ high enough.

[advyeji-blog]

advhyuna

Her focus is entirely on stretching when she’s approached – but Hyuna is immediately pleased it’s this particular fighter when her eyes draw up to see exactly who has strided up to her. She’d observed the other woman as well; she appears to be human as far as Hyuna can tell, but the mutant would easily believe there’s more secrets packed into her smaller build from the teaser of her skills she’d seen at a distance. Hyuna senses some wild, unpredictable streak to her movements, her fighting forms a little different from what she’s used to, but sleek, practiced, and rather elegantly rough – her interest is piqued.

Hyuna’s gaze moves from the confident curl of the other woman’s mouth (she looks like she might bite, like her mouth’s ready to make the same kind of fighting promises her confident stance does) to meet her eyes and mirrors the other’s head tilt as she rolls her neck the slightest. She doesn’t realize the slight smile that curls her own lips as she notes there’s something sharp about her that immediately draws her in – she’s got that natural look too, a certain kind of visage that Hyuna always finds herself gravitating to like she always has, that kind of girl that looks her best while she’s got her skin streaked with dirt or grease or someone else’s blood.

“I can always use the practice,” she replies, rolling her neck back. Her smile gets a little bigger – she takes it as a sign the other has a good eye to approach her like this first. “Maybe you can give me more of a challenge?”

She’d wrestled with some of the kids here, but most of them are subpar, no real training – at the very least not such an enticing opportunity. Yeji’s confidence is appealing; it alone is enough to make Hyuna instantly amenable to the suggestion.

“Hyuna,” she offers her own name and hand, grip confident and firm. She pulls back only to pop the hair tie off her wrist, running her hands through her hair to pull it up tightly in a practiced way. It takes her a moment to process the suggested bet, as it were, mind already moving first to match the younger’s style. She’s immensely curious to see if Yeji’s as good as her stance says she is – she rolls her shoulders back.

“Sounds good to me… If you’re as good as you look, I might need it later,” she drawls. Her grin then is bright. “We’ll see though, won’t we?” 

Hyuna settles into a defensive stance, gaze provoking.

“…Why don’t you show me something interesting?”

She starts to bounce on her heels, a bit childish if nothing else, at how smoothly this is going -- not that Yeji is necessarily always the smoothest operator, sure, but sometimes things fall into place in such a perfect way that she has to mentally fist-bump herself for it. Not that it’s really her doing. It just happens that Hyuna’s into this -- and even complimenting her, if that wasn’t enough. Yeji won’t complain either way, and fist-bumps would still totally be in order, she thinks.

She shakes Hyuna’s hand with the same confidence and a hint of kiddish excitement -- she’s probably showing her age, like this, but whatever. Her grin shows too many teeth and she’s immediately nodding and getting ready to go; full-speed is basically Yeji’s only setting, after all. That or out cold.

“Hell yeah!” she lets her triumphant feeling slip a little, instantly and intuitively positioning herself to fight; she’s ready, arms in position, but everything’s loose, completely natural and yet strangely practiced at the same time. Yeji’s put a lot of time into getting good -- and even she has her glaring faults when it comes to fighting, as could easily be attested by Taekwoon or any of the other combat specialists she’s up against. Her reflexes are great, but she’s a little too reckless for her own good. Maybe she’ll learn not to be as the years pass.

Just a few seconds go into analyzing Hyuna’s stance before Yeji leaps in on the offensive -- it’s what she’s best at, strikes quick and brutal and keenly seeking any hole she can find in the elder woman’s defensive.

But Hyuna’s good, too -- obviously -- so it’s not that easy to get an upper hand on her. Plus, Yeji’s having to play just a tiny bit careful -- she still doesn’t know if Hyuna’s the type to put her mutant powers into her combat, even sparring, or if it’d happen or accident or what have you. Part of her whole deal is knowing what she’s up against -- not that that tiny bit of care she’s trying to take is really getting her anywhere, though, when her brain basically turns off when the fighting starts.

╳ strike my fancy.

[advyeji-blog]

hansoladv:

advjinah:

jinah shuts her mouth when hansol shuts her down, scowling—and her footsteps are more pronounced, harsh and stomping, leaving trails of ice in their wake. her fingers curl into her palms and turn into fists, crackling frost shedding from her joints as she breathes in sharply, coughing. her hand flies up to her mouth and she presses her nose against her sleeve, the constant use of her ability making her immune system weaken. she wants to fight back against hansol, sneer and snarl because it makes her feel better—outward anger had always been preferred than bottling it up.

Keep reading

There’s something poetic about the way they all handle this situation. Yeji is poised- ready. She could snap anything up in a moment and she knows just what she’s doing. Jinah, on the other hand, looks like a wreck. Hansol can’t help but give her a small once over- not to judge though it may look that way. The ice princess looks like she might have a heart attack and Hansol would rather not have to deal with that at the moment. He himself is the middle ground between the attentive and the afraid. Kim Hansol appears apathetic. The blood, the traps, none of it seems to matter to his bored gaze. When Yeji puts an arm out to stop them he does instantly- feet together and expression blank. There’s a gust of wind from the pendulum swinging it’s way down and it takes his hair with it. He stands still- unmoving- expression blank.

Keep reading

The idea that Yeji is somehow controlled, that she has it together -- it’s honestly laughable, but how can she appear anything else? She’s a hunter, not meant to be the hunted -- her heart thrums in her ears and the smell of blood and more assails her senses, burning her nostrils and making her want nothing more than to get the hell out of here. Which really might not be the worst idea -- not that there’s anywhere a lot better to go, but this place is definitely not where they need to be.

She feels blinder than usual, with the stench that she can’t quite get accustomed to gnawing at her thoughts -- but with the fluctuating light levels (she only knows because she sometimes sees a hot light here and there), infrared is still probably her best bet even if it leaves out plenty of details.

Maybe that’s for the best, because whatever’s going on in here is downright disgusting -- horrifying, even.

It’s probably a body, based on the dimmed shade of red she sees; not long dead, but not all in one piece. It’s probably a blessing that she can’t see the details -- but god, she can smell, and she can imagine plenty for her tastes. This isn’t good -- instinct says to determine the cause of this mess, but Jinah pushes on and Hansol’s still frozen; Yeji can at least keep track of them by sound.

It’s only then that she registers the sound of ripping flesh -- too close for comfort.

“Of course I heard it,” she hisses, teeth grinding together as she tenses, head down and eyes wandering as she covers her nose -- the smell of blood is clogging up her perceptions, it’s downright irritating. “Don’t make a sound.” It’s as much for her sake as theirs; her hearing is the best sense she’s got on hand right now, and she doesn’t need it blocked up. And she doesn’t need whatever’s making that noise hearing them, either.

Yeji stalks forward, cautious; maybe sanity would tell her to just run back the other direction, but she wants to know what she’s dealing with. Maybe it’s just a morbid curiosity; maybe it’s crazy. Maybe running is the worst thing she can do. Maybe she just sucks at defense. It could be any and all of these things.

But what the fuck is she looking at?

There’s snarling, growling -- something in the shadows, tearing mercilessly at the flesh of what can only be a human; the smell of death and rot is so strong Yeji could gag, but she grits her teeth and bears it. It almost has a human form, she thinks -- if the heat shapes are anything to go by -- but it’s so thin, distorted in her vision, and a chill runs down her spine. This is bad -- that’s an understatement.

One step back, two -- then it perks up, and Yeji casts her friends a glance that’s as frightened as anything she can even manage. She hopes it communicates “we gotta get the fuck out of here” well enough.

Her hand’s already around the blade she keeps hidden in her belt, though.

sink your teeth in.

[advyeji-blog]

joyxadv:

The back of her knees knock into the bench when the stranger shoves her away, and it’s only her quick reflexes that save her from toppling down on her butt. It’s a wonder she’d even noticed what Joy had been doing, really, so terribly angry that her bloodlust couldn’t have possibly triggered such an extreme reaction. She’s brought it all back in but the other girl is still wild, there’s no better word to describe her now.

She lets the other girl attempt to taunt her; this is but child’s play. It’s obvious she knows about the mutants, obvious still that she isn’t one of them, from what she says. There’s been worse things said in just the audience of the fights she engineered. It’s the sentence before she lets fly a punch that distracts her.

I’ve trashed mutants twice your size.

Joy almost misses the punch, has to duck more vigorously than she would have needed to if she’d seen it coming. Dip, feint left, punch. The bench is still in her way. She strikes upwards with her fist, hard, aiming for the girl’s jaw, uses that distraction to move to the left so she’s got more space to move. Her punch is followed immediately by a second, slightly more sloppy hit towards the temple.

“Try me.”

So her practice’s been disrupted. Looks like she found a different form of practice, isn’t she lucky.

It doesn’t matter if the unnatural anger is gone -- Yeji’s still livid in her own right, letting the memory of that feeling feed into the fire that burns in her clenched teeth and wild eyes. Usually she prefers a hunt -- a chase. But today, she’ll settle for whatever it is that gets bruises on her skin and copper in her mouth; she wants to burn and burn until it fizzles out and maybe she can rest without thinking too hard again.

There’s a rough noise in her throat when her first swing misses and she only half-remembers to react after; she’s not as used to people fighting back with skill as she’d like to be. That doesn’t dull her reflexes, though; Yeji’s been training her reaction times for years, same as her senses.

Instinct’s completely taken over; everything is the beat of her heart and her opponent’s and the motions of the air around her. Only red comes into focus in her eye; every other color fades out and her thoughts blur to nothing but fight.

She bends back from the uppercut, letting the other’s fist whiz by her jaw; she lowers herself as though she has hackles to raise, aiming a hook at the girl’s gut.

“Fuck you.”

It doesn’t even register in Yeji’s mind that she’s in a public place -- that people are probably starting to stare, that someone will probably call the cops if this keeps up. Everything’s just red, angry, hurt and be hurt, fight and flee -- if only she was half the animal she’s tried to make of herself.

crazy dog

[advyeji-blog]

joy

There’s a burst of anger in her mind’s eye, then she’s rattled up into standing by a girl with blazing eyes and bared teeth. Her face is too close for comfort and Joy is distracted for half a beat, mind still focused on her practice (and the stranger’s face now) until it catches up and— “what the fuck,” she starts, shocked by the fist against her neck and the sudden rush that comes when she’s forced to stand. Her control goes up immediately, withdraws as much of her aura as she can while simultaneously taking in the stranger in front of her.

The girl radiates anger right back at her, the way she can tell when others have fallen under her spell. Joy’s used to other mutants being aware of her powers, immune in some ways, but this girl just seems… human.

That scares her more than another mutant can.

Joy forces herself to stay calm. She can easily take her down, she thinks, knows she’s going to be stronger and faster than most other humans, but this stranger doesn’t quite seem like the others. It reminds her, for a beat, of how scared she used to be of her father, but he is gone and she isn’t scared. She refuses to be frightened by another human, she’s older and knows better and isn’t controlled by anything other than herself now. This doesn’t scare her.

She yanks the other’s hand off from her shirt, holding her grip in place. “I wouldn’t do that,” she says, sneers, tightens her grip a little in warning, letting just the smallest fraction of her strength seep in. Maybe this girl is a mutant of the physical kind, she thinks, and Joy wants to see how she reacts to her show of strength.

Irrationally, she knows, she wants this girl to be a mutant instead. It makes no sense at all for her to have sensed Joy’s abilities without being one. Her presence and awareness is unnerving; it makes her jittery without reason, and this isn’t something Joy is used to.

“Who the fuck at you,” she snaps back, repeats the other girl’s question. She won’t reveal anything beyond what she knows of the other person, but god is she curious. 

Yeji’s like a wild animal when she’s angry, when she’s in the mindset to fight or flee -- she’s a little too in tune with her primal side, and even when the suspicious sense of anger seems to fade away, her own irritation remains. It’s still just her that wants to feel her knuckles bloody and lungs heavy with dominance and victory -- that’s just natural.

But this girl and the strength of her grip is not at all natural. Is this girl seriously a mutant, fucking with her like this? It annoys Yeji more, somehow -- another soul who drew the fucked-up lottery ticket she wishes she had, almost like she’s being taunted. Normally, maybe Yeji would be more reasonable than this -- try to ask some sensible questions, or something -- but everything in her just feels damn foul. Her uncovered mechanical eye twitches and zooms in as though she’ll find something new -- but naturally, all she sees is hot red.

She doesn’t smell fear, though, and somehow that pisses her off even more.

A hand around her wrist won’t stop the seething anger, nor will it really stop Yeji from fighting back; it doesn’t matter that there are people around, either. “You gonna stop me?” she hisses in retaliation, her hands tensing into fists; “Gonna do something extraordinary, girlie? Gonna show off like you’re better than me?”

Yeji doesn’t remember the last time she got this mad, but she’s pretty sure it ended up with some dude having a busted skull; today, it’ll start with her shoving this girl away forcefully to free her other hand, aggression bleeding hotly from her body.

“Fucking bring it, kid---” she spits, arms stretching and tensing at the ready, “---I’ve trashed mutants twice your size!”

And bam, just like that -- she swings a punch at the other girl’s head, fast and hard and not at all a good idea considering she’s not wearing any form of hand protection, but it’s not like Yeji gives a fuck.

crazy dog

[advyeji-blog]

Yeji is having a bad day.

Maybe every day seems to be bad, lately -- ever since those test results came back, ever since she took that call from Hansol’s bitch-ass ex-girlfriend, she’s been oscillating between angry and mopey and she hates every bit of both sides of it. Yeji doesn’t like to dwell on things or even think about them in depth; she’s always moving forward, always seeking that next thrill of the hunt. But after the way things have been lately? She just feels foul.

The fact that Daybreak finally gave her license to work on her own more doesn’t really dampen it; the fact that she’s currently missing an eye doesn’t intensify it too much, though it certainly doesn’t help a whole lot, either.

She wants to fight something -- and not in the good-natured skill-based skirmishes kind of way that she normally fights things. She wants to get blood on her knuckles -- doesn’t want to be controlled. But Yeji never wants to actually hurt people; it’s just about getting the thrill of it, the real threat, feeling a real challenge.

So there is definitely something weird going on that’s making her want to outright hurt someone.

She’s got her hands in her pockets and a snarl on her face as she paces through the park, the feeling coming and going in awkward waves; it’s just luck that no one has crossed her path yet and gotten her to throw a few punches. She came out here to try to relax -- not to get all the more wound up. Something’s weird about it -- she’s smart enough to know that much, but not a whole lot more.

As she passes by a signpost, the feeling intensifies to such an extent that she can barely see anything but red -- and the closest thing colored red in her heat vision is a girl seated on a bench, the nexus of that weird, suspicious feeling.

Yeji yanks her up by the collar of her shirt, teeth bared in a hiss that rumbles from her chest; this must be what it feels like to actually want to kill someone, an awful lot like what she felt when she heard Ara threaten her best friend with such horrible things. “The fuck are you,” she rasps, shaking the girl like a ragdoll as she forces her to her feet, “And the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

crazy dog

@advyeji

She sits in the park, crosslegged. It’s still early, and she can’t practice without other people around if monitor how she’s doing, so this okay, she tells herself. Nothing too big - just experimenting how much control she has over the area her aura has an effect on, the intensity of it. Joy spreads it out as far as she can, watching the people around her.

A few of the elderly exercising by the benches frown when that happens almost immediately, and she thinks she sees someone try to subtly step on someone else’s foot in that little party. She has to suppress a laugh; this is only practice, she reminds herself. She’s not here to play.

She closes her eyes, focusing on feeling out the perimeter of her aura. It’s gotten clearer, no longer a fuzzy sort-of-feeling, it’s graduated to a more condensed sense. Joy recognises the way her aura feels now, after having experienced life without it. Her aura stops a little ways after the large oak tree and the rose bushes, and there are only maybe fifteen, twenty people within this area.

Joy starts to draw it in, reels it towards her, envisioning the coppery tinge shrinking as she concentrates. She wants it to stop just before the signpost, a mere three metres radius. It shouldn’t intensify, at least not like this, not intentionally. She succeeds in lessening her area of effect, watching a pair of sisters make up easily as she releases her hold on them. Joy nods to herself, pleased. The reddish brown layer settle over her mind’s eye, darker than it had been when she’d stretched herself thin.

Frowning, she works to lighten it, trying to make it the same shade as her initial attempt. The more she fails, the more frustrated she gets, colouring it even darker and Joy panics. Her control is slipping away again and she forcibly pushes the bloodlust down, draws it all back in before it gets out of hand. She counts to ten before the tension dissipates and she thinks she could try it again.

She holds her presence steady, bloodlust tight in her chest as she inches it slowly towards the signpost. Her eyes are closed again, and she’s blind to the world except for the anger she can sense and her bloodlust. She looks for all the world like an innocent bystander (if a bit sleepy), she hopes.

[advyeji-blog]

yoongi

He’s laying on the ground- head spinning and questioning exactly why it is that he decided to play the hero today. He never does- never does it well at least. He’s built to be the villain, the loser, and yet he saw something he disliked and decided that his short, weak body would be enough to convince some thick-headed fuckboy that he shouldn’t talk to a girl like he owned her. 

The girls in his gang never took that kind of shit. They could rip a guy’s heart out just for trying- or another girl’s if she were to do the same thing. Yoongi always admired that gall. So seeing a girl getting hit on like that on the street? It pisses him off. He isn’t normally one to stop anything, but he’s high as the sky and when he’s like this his head doesn’t always work so hot. 

So he got socked. Maybe a few times. The guy even kicked him in the side once he was on the ground. He blacked out for a bit, so he sort of lost track of what has been happening in the last few seconds- Minutes- whatever. He coughs- lung aching for their own stupid reasons and groans to himself. He rolls a little- just back and forth while he grips his head. It sucks. He hates getting his ass handed to him. Then again, it happens way to often. Maybe he should work on the whole being a total wimp thing.

There’s a girl’s voice and his reaction is immediate. He lifts his hand up and flips her off- growling just a little to himself. He’s damn sure this is the girl that just let him get his head crack on the concrete and he’s not exactly happy with her for that. He rubs his head a little more and coughs again. His voice comes out in a very pathetic rasp.

“Oh fuck you. You just let me end up in this shit situation and now you’re tryin’ t’ be all nice about it?” He cracks an eye opened and gasps slightly. He is rather instantly aware of the fact that this isn’t the same girl that he just tried to protect from fuckboy number whatever. He drops his hand and groans again. This is one hell of a pain.

“Fuuuck~” He’s too high for this. He’s supposed to feel good when he’s high, but instead he feels like his head just got pushed into the road… Oh wait. That happened. He stares up at the girl and blinks a few to many times. She’s talking about Daybreak and he’s pretty sure it’s the middle of the night. It takes him a few to realize that she’s address the Foundation and the fact that his blazed as fuck ass isn’t moving an inch. Does he look dead, or just high? Eh. What’s the difference?

“Uhh… Yeah. I’m from the Foundation. Live in… Uh… The dorms I think.” He grumbles just a little and pushes himself up weakly. His head certainly is spinning. It’s hard to tell the difference between the drug and the head trauma, but he’s pretty sure it’s mostly the drugs. Or was the head trauma…? Screw it.

“You also from there?” He’s great at talking right now. “I should… probably go home or somethin’. ‘Cause… High.”

Yeji can’t help but laugh sharply at the guy’s initial reaction -- it takes her a second to get why he actually flipped her off, but either way, it doesn’t come as much of a bother to her. She’d take someone giving her hell over being too fluffy about things any day; that’s just how she is. A factor of being so rough around the edges that you’re a little afraid you’ll cut something if it’s too soft purely on accident.

“Wrong gal, kid,” she says, not even minding that this guy could very well be older than her. He’s probably high out of his goddamn mind, if the smell of mary jane clinging heavy to his clothes is anything to go by; frankly, Yeji could get a contact high from that alone if she was the dramatic sort for that. There’s something else about his scent , too -- something sickly-sweet and just plain weird -- maybe it’s some other drug, she doesn’t have much else of an assumption she can make.

Yeji shifts onto her other foot and shakes her head, putting her hands on her hips for the moment as she stares at the guy. Seriously, she gets wanting to get out of your mind or feel goor or whatever, but isn’t this just plain stupid? Whatever. “I’ll help your baked ass get home if you’ll fucking give me your hand, here,” she snarks, lips still quirked in a half-grin. “You hear me? Hand. Take it.” Yeji reaches down again, emphatic.

In the end, she decides to just reach down the extra few feet and yank him to his feet without his help -- not much minding how he stumbles uncoordinatedly in response. He’ll be fine.

“You wanna go straight home or do you wanna maybe sit down somewhere until you’re like, not so damn high? Because I’m pretty sure you can’t walk in a straight line like that, much less actually get back to the foundation even with my help.”

╳ high enough.

[advyeji-blog]

╳ human error.

--- @advtaek

One, two -- Yeji’s fists strike the bag for the umpteenth time, and she ignores the pain that shoots through her knuckles yet again.

She feels fucking stupid. So, so stupid -- the kind of stupid where no one would understand why she’s even upset, but it’s eating her up, and she knows that. She knows no one would get it or think it’s worth getting this upset over, and that just makes her feel stupider for it. But feeling stupid doesn’t make it go away -- trying to drown it in the motions of her muscles isn’t working, either.

The story goes like this: Yeji’s known for years that her dad was a mutant. He never said it, but the foundation knew it and that’s why they invited him here -- why she ended up here, as a vigil, without him. And mutations are genetic. Even if she doesn’t seem to have one -- her dad was a mutant, right? So it could crop up any minute -- she could stop being human literally any second.

She’d hung on that hope for years, and as things have gotten more and more tense around the foundation, it’s felt more and more like the time that it ought to fucking show itself, already.

So she took the plunge with racing nerves: Yeji met with one of the research heads and asked that they run a full genetic test on her. They’d find whatever was lurking there, surely -- and maybe they could find some way to bring it out.

She was so, so damn sure they’d find something.

They didn’t.

The results came in and there’s nothing -- just normal human genes, normal human weirdness. She’s not going to wake up one morning with her arms shifted into claws or the ability to feel electromagnetic pulses; she’s never going to be anything more than this, more than human. She didn’t even realize just how much she’d been clinging to that childish hope before now.

And she feels so fucking stupid for it. Half the mutants she’s met here would absolutely kill to be normal -- but here’s Yeji, tears welling in her eyes and bruises spreading over her knuckles because she can’t be one of them. She’s only ever felt at home among animals and mutants, so why is it that she has to be just human? Why could she just swap genes with one of these kids who doesn’t even want their powers -- what the fuck kind of sick sense of humor does the world have to have? 

She just wants to stop thinking about it, but instead, she ends up banging both fists against the punching bag uselessly and slumping to her knees, no longer able to keep the sobs inside.

(Will she really be able to figure out what happened to her dad if she’s just human?)

[advyeji-blog]

╳ cat and mouse.

--- @advhongbin

Yeji loves mutants. She’s never been even slightly subtle about this fact; she loves them, all the crazy new things they bring to the table. She likes to fight with them and pester them and learn all about their abilities; she fits right in with the world of the extraordinary that way, enough so that a fair number of people don’t even realize that she’s not a mutant. Maybe that’s mostly the eyes. Maybe it’s her personality. She doesn’t really care; she doesn’t normally correct them either way.

And when it comes to mutants, Yeji especially loves ones that pose her a challenge. Not an unreasonable challenge like trying to fight Zitao when he’s basically an impenetrable wall or racing some asshole who can run at the speed of sound, but a doable challenge -- something that makes her try that much harder, push herself that much farther.

And that is why Yeji is utterly infatuated with hunting Lee Hongbin.

He’s so damn hard to notice, but he’s not totally imperceptible yet -- Yeji has to hone in with all her might to pick up his trail, and even then it can be hard to actually sort it out if he’s not still close by. But that makes this little game of cat and mouse all the more exciting for her; she lives for the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of the almost-uncatchable game. It makes her blood flow hot; she feels so damn alive like this.

The most satisfying moment is when she finally catches that sneaky fox, leaping out of the shadows of some foliage by the exercise track to tackle him to the ground triumphantly.

“I finally caught ya!” she giggles, practically wagging her tail as she straddles the far-larger male’s backside. “Damn, you’re good. I almost didn’t catch you.” And in Yeji’s book, that’s damn good indeed. She quirks a grin that almost seems to bare sharp teeth, but there’s not much threat meant in it -- she’s genuinely enjoying herself, which might be threatening all on its own, really.

“Y’know, I almost thought you were skipping out on our training session -- but you weren’t doin’ that, right, Hongbin-oppa? You were just givin’ me an even better one this way.”

[advyeji-blog]

yixing-oppa

Yixing halts midway while stretching, casting Yeji a surprised look at she addresses him – it’s not because of her speaking to him, rather because of the word ‘oppa’ which he couldn’t seem to adapt to. It was possibly due to the double nature of the word, which had managed to rise up confusion on a couple of occasions. With a shake of the head, the thought is dismissed and the elder decides to call it quits of prolonging things. Might as well get done with it, rather than drag it out for too long.

“It’s fine, I’m kind of used to it,” he admits as he shifts his stance, arms being brought up front with hands forming into fist at his chest level. He’s had to do this before, not just once or twice, but enough time to be able to call it a routine of sorts – it was a weekly reoccurrence, with very few exceptions of him having performed well enough to not be called out. Yixing would lie if he didn’t admit that a couple of good things came out of being asked to stay behind, but this isn’t really a time where he can afford to dig through fond memories.

Yeji’s waiting out on him, when she could’ve done something else – hurrying could be one of the few things he could do to help this whole situation. Shifting his weight from one leg to another, Yixing tried to go over certain instructions given throughout the day’s lesson – “Keep your guard up at all times and don’t leave any opening for your opponent to land a blow. This might be all hypothetical, but if you were in a real fight, it could be your last one.” – while assessing his adversary.

It’s now or never, so the elder springs from his spot and aims to close up the space between the two of them before attempting to land a hit onto Yeji’s defense – something in his mind told him that if he acted out right and hit at an exact angle or in the ‘right place’ then he could break it, which left an opening for him to land a proper hit. But that’s the mind of an inexperienced fighter speaking and if he was anything, then right wasn’t it.

She gives him a smirk and a shrug in return, a bit of a fangy thing; she feels bad for the guy, honestly, if this is a regular thing for him. It’d drive her up the damn wall if they had to keep her after class all the time and she couldn’t do her own thing. Thankfully, she’s good, so usually that gets her out -- though on days like today, she guesses that’s exactly why she’s stuck here. Oh well.

Yeji’s ready stance is unorthodox, just like everything else about her; her hands aren’t tightly balled, more flexed like ready claws. Human hands aren’t really mean to punch anyway; that’s why proper knuckle wraps are important. Why she’s always got them on, really. It’d be so damn cool if she actually had claws -- focus, Yeji.

She’s ready when he comes at her, senses fully absorbing him; she’s not much for defending, but she steps out of the way on a dime, reflexes kicking in fast and hard. Yixing is inexperienced and Yeji is fast; she weaves through the air to dodge a few strikes, observing his pattern as she does so. Her instinct memorizes it and she acts out almost instantly -- grabs his wrist after a missed swing, uses his own momentum to send him flying to the ground with a swinging motion.

Oops. At least the mats are cushioned, kinda.

It’s also reflex that finds Yeji sitting on top of her prey after the throw, blinking down at him as her expression becomes a bit less hard and focused; that wasn’t what she meant to do, but damnit, she’s not good at this whole thinking-things-through thing so she can train people. She just follows her instinct on whatever crazy whim it takes her.

“Fuck -- sorry, my bad, that wasn’t part of the lesson, huh. You’re not too hurt, right?”

— hot & cold。

[advyeji-blog]

╳ cause and effect.

She gets a call in the middle of the night -- but of course she’s not sleeping. But if Hansol’s calling her -- it’s not normal, and the hair on the back of her neck pricks up with the sheer instinctual sense that something is wrong.

“Yeji, I’m dying.” He says it and she knows from the sound of his voice that he’s not just being dramatic -- something is so, so wrong, and it has Yeji springing to her feet and dropping everything she was doing without the slightest explanation, her feet carrying her as fast as she can manage toward Hansol’s room. He’s got to be there -- he may be out of the medical ward, but he can’t be well enough to be going anywhere else.

“Are you in your room? Hansol, what the fuck is happening?!” He doesn’t answer -- she hears a clattering noise and then the line’s dead. She’s got to go with her instinct, then -- at least she can trust it. “Hansol?! Hansol---?! Seriously, you’re not allowed to fucking die on me---!”

Yeji hangs up her phone, realizing it’s pointless, and runs. She darts past other potentials without giving them the slightest attention -- there’s no time to bother with the fact that she almost ran into three or four people, not that she’d much care about apologizing anyway.

She very nearly breaks down the door to Hansol and Taekwoon’s room when she gets there, but at least it’s unlocked; the smell of blood hits her hard, almost making her recoil, and points her to make a beeline for the bathroom.

There’s blood everywhere -- and Hansol, unconscious but alive.

(She warns Taekwoon about what happened in there before she carries a hastily-bandaged Hansol to the medical ward again -- promises she’ll clean it up as soon as she knows he’s okay.)

Yeji isn’t good at staying still, but it doesn’t sit well with her to stay away from Hansol for too long while he’s like this. She doesn’t know why he did it or what happened, but she knows he didn’t want to die -- so he didn’t mean to kill himself, right? That doesn’t seem like Hansol -- well, at least she hopes it doesn’t. She’s antsy, pacing around the room as she thinks -- not that she gets much of anywhere. Thinking isn’t her specialty.

Then the phone rings.

She knows the drill with Hansol’s phone ringing -- if it’s an unknown number, it’s probably that bitch who never stops calling him. He tries to ignore them -- block her calls, change his number all the time -- but sometimes he deals with it some other way. Yeji decides she’s curious this time -- plans to answer as if the girl on the other end’s gotten the wrong number, but hey, she may learn something.

She wasn’t expecting anything like this.

Ara doesn’t even let her say “hello” before she’s raving, spitting venomous and violent words -- graphic descriptions of the terrible sorts of things she’ll do if she gets her hands on him. Yeji’s frozen in place -- startled, if not afraid for Hansol’s sake. This isn’t right. When did it start becoming like this? Wasn’t she always just begging him to come back to her?

Yeji’s always hated this woman, even if they’ve never spoken before -- but this is more than enough to completely confirm that hatred in her mind. (Doesn’t help that she mentioned something about sending someone after him, either.)

“Hansollie, are you listening to me?!” Does this bitch know how to do anything but scream?

“Not him, you crazy bitch,” Yeji spits -- and hangs up, not waiting for a reaction. She knows way more than she needed to already -- slams the phone down on the side table again with a determined snarl on her lips.

She’s going to kill that bitch.