hanaxsy-blog

[hanaxsy-blog]

syjaewon:

@hanaxsy

he sits in the hallway, various compartments and wall panels ripped from their seats in serenity, the wiring and pipelines exposed ugly, fearless, alarming, and jaewon’s countenance is dark, dark and immutable, his hair tumbling against the fringes of him, eyebrows shading over fierce golden eyes, his attention wholly on his work. his search for signs of a tracker in this part of the ship have so far amounted to nothing, which only serves to frustrate him more, but he’s got one of his hackers and his engineer scratching away at other points on the ship, as best they can do with her still in flight towards the skyplex, and he knows he’ll have to land her somewhere quickly to do a full, proper sweep, locate wherever the hell their little bug is.

it’s frustrating to say the least, but his mood only blackens the more members of his crew bother him by walking past or breathing too loudly down the hall, their nervous energy upending his equilibrium, capsizing his tenuous hold on his temper as it is, and by the time hana’s honey-suckle scent wafts near enough to him, he’s already clenching his teeth tightly, his face coiled in a scowl darker than all the space surrounding serenity. his eyes used to be black, deep and dimensional, a wormhole through the sharpened, shattered knife blades of his personality, even his friends back in the alleyways of valluria had told him they were strangely somber, his natural-born tilt, the drive of his presence, the force of his stride making them seem all the more pointed, but now… now they only blaze, only burn, only ignite and feed off everything the light touches, scorching and heavy and unnerving.

she approaches him and he ignores her, no time in his schedule for her questions or observations, her sly lips or deceptively calm demeanor, he has work to do, he has a tracker to root out, fingers that beg to bleed, bullets that beg to be fired.

Hana could feel the frenzy in the air, the blood-lust and utter frustration that seethes from Jaewon’s presence in his desperate attempts to find the bug on the ship. Or that’s what she’s gathered from the whispers here and there. That there was a bug, that crew members had been kidnapped, and something of the sort about an exchange. But those were just rumors. Rumors without any truth, and so, she came to the source. 

Hana could tell Jaewon was irate. Pissed. Angry and searching for a way out. For something to do, as if the more panels he uprooted the more likely he would be to come to saving those that were lost. In fact, the ship seemed to be in a frenzy, what with everyone working harder than they had when they were just floating in the verse from destination to destination. Yet Hana, always the outlier, failed to muster an ounce of rage, couldn’t even find the energy to pretend to be irate. Her cool demeanor juxtaposed against Jaewon’s furious one. 

“So -” She began, her voice breaking past the fortress of silence that seemed to keep those onboard away from the captain in his current state, “wanna fill me in one why you seem to be breaking apart your ship? Or the walls at least.” She knew that there wasn’t a point to beat around the bush with Jaewon. It didn’t matter if this meant she’d be the victim of his fury, what with no desired enemy in reach, and she felt questions such as ‘are you ok,’ or ‘can i help’ to be irrelevant when you knew that the person was very much so not ok. 

‘burn to ashes’

[hanaxsy-blog]

[hanaxsy-blog]

syjaewon:

the day has grown old and worn, stretched in the atmosphere around him like an used shoe, pieces of it fuzzy and fading, disgusting and undesirable, and he finds the music and dancing lights that had just yesterday drawn him in despite himself, tussled and cajoled him out of his usual determined darkness, now sits and smears heavily over his shoulders. the melting fusion of expectations and questions and conspiracies settle over his thoughts like a consistent thunderstorm, the shades of invisible cumulonimbus clouds angling the cuts of his face like shards of crystal– once again a mountain fashioned from ghosts.

he leaves the city, leaves the menagerie, the muddle and bedlam of brightly colored doors and cloths, poetry shouted with the same cadence as dinner orders, conversations at the height of their exuberance during the same time as the sun peaks over the sky’s crest, supposedly the hottest time of the day, although jaewon would beg to differ. he leaves because he is a single dark blotch against the kaleidoscope of red and gold hues, nothing of the sun in him for a suspended moment, nothing of the heated molten lava– he is too many unanswered half-truths for a while. he wanders around the banks of a stream, his mind floating against the current, as it always is, a vague contempt lining his features at the look of the water, the way it cascades over stones and earth, flimsy, pale, cold, clammy. weak.

he has no interest here but he strolls through anyway, eventually hearing a faint chiming of glass on glass, china dishes lightly scraping against each other in a note he somehow manages to recognize from the quite limited interaction he holds with companions. which… now that he thinks about it, is actually more so than he’d appreciate admitting to, despite having slept with none of them. “hana?” his baritone voice catches in the surrounding leaves and oak bark, thudding dully, almost muting him as he steps around the larger rocks and approaches her with furrowed brows and a prolonged, unhurried demeanor. “well the day isn’t over yet and i’ve only just arrived.” it’s meant as a joke although he says it without a smile, without any mirth, without intention of forcing her into any jubilation. “you could always let me sit down first and we could just try to see how things go.”

A tinkling chuckle leaves her brims. dear god please don’t break anything today. such a bad way to start off a new year Hana thinks to herself as her eyes meet his golden hues and tousled hair. From the looks of it, it seemed Jaewon had an eventful night of celebration, no doubt having reaped the fruitful benefits of inebriation. Hana could only chuckle as she tried to conjure how the man had celebrated in the night -- part of her was sad that she wasn’t there to witness such an event --- but at the same time, was happy that out of all the days in the year, Jaewon actually allowed himself to let loose and celebrate. To hopefully have enjoyed it without the ringing whispers of ghosts past and the responsibilities of being the captain weighing him down. 

“mmm, well, the price is doubled if you break this set too. but surely, you’ve grown from being the butter-fingered boy of years past?” Hana mused back, returning his jest with one of her own. Though meeting Jaewon had cost her a priceless tea-set, Hana would change nothing of that day. For it brought the tornado-of-a-being that Jaewon was into her life, and well, Hana had already lost one man that brightened her world, she wasn’t about to lose that which brought color to her sights too. 

As the hot water continued to boil, Hana’s hands began to follow the steps that were now burned into her brain. The routine that was easy as breathing for her: the tea ceremony. “so, is that a new look?” Hana queried, brows pointing upwards as her eyes landed on his colorful oriental robe, a new addition to what she remembered him leaving the ship in. “can’t say I pegged you for a geisha flowered robe type of guy.” She jested, setting down another cup that mirrored hers. Now that she recalled, Jaewon had never really participated in any of the tea-ceremonies though he’d no doubt seen his fair share. Especially when he visited years past. 

[hanaxsy-blog]

syxnine:

Nine thought he was speaking to himself. He did not know he had said his thoughts out loud. He blinked, processing on how to react to her answer. “I do not understand. If it is what could have been, means it did not happen.” Nine looked at Hana, and tilted his head, an action he does when he is confused. “If it was not experienced, how does it become memories?”

He shook his head slightly, looking back up to the fireworks in the air. His eyes looking not at the beauty of the spectacle, but at the waste of gunpowder. “Humans are complicated.” He continued. “I doubt I will be able to understand others, or myself for that matter any time soon.”

Nine then remembered it was socially polite to revert the sentiment one had showed in reverse. “Do you have a scenario that had not happened that caused you pain?”

A puff of air escapes hana’s lips as she blows upwards to tame a stray whisker of hair. “Because, we, humans are ailed with the disease of having hope. of wanting what we can’t have.” She turns to look him in the eye, “y’know, like dreams. memories painted by a wanting heart, and not that of a logical mind.”

Her hands then instinctively reach for her cigarettes. Taking one out as she lights up the burning embers to welcome the bitter scent into her lungs. Letting out a whiff of smoke, she queries. “Are you not human?” It was a question she’d been wanting to ask for a while, but an opportunity had never presented itself. 

Another drag inhales the body numbing smoke before silence envelopes the new question. “don’t we all?” Hana queries. 

[hanaxsy-blog]

I hear the firecrackers cackling; hear the laughter of love

                                                                  FEEL the caress of your fingertips.

                              I wonder why you chose not to save me

                                                             leaving me to DROWN in this BOTTOMLESS abyss.

| H A N A . K I M | F L O W E R S  NEVER SMELLED SO SWEET

[hanaxsy-blog]

Ceremonies and paths re-traced | Jaewon & Hana

@syjaewon

There had been a time when Hana reveled in the festivities on Sihnon. When every lantern, gown, and fawning adoration of spectators brought a rushing high. But times change, and people change. The noise and laughter no longer a fatal attraction for a curious young girl, but rather, that to be avoided by sights tainted through time. It wasn’t the crowds that drew in the ex-companion, whose name is often muttered with nostalgia and lust, but rather the silence of the forest that comforts her. 

A simple crop top and a leather jacket now sufficed. A drastic change from the embroidered and decadent downs she used to don this time of year. But Hana had long traded in beauty and constraints for that of comforts and freedom; traded in adoring gazes for the bliss of blending in. 

Plus, she’d already done due diligence by dressing up on the first day, and as the forest awoke with light and sound, so did she. After bathing at a waterfall a few minutes away from her hidden hideout in the cave, Hana began her usual routine. Consuming tea before all else was a habit that stayed with her, even after she forgave her contract to the guild. And so she brought out her small wooden table, a sitting mat for her knees, and her tea-set. The familiar song playing softly on the speakers to accompany the symphony of the forest, a stomping of footsteps collided with the click of the water brewing. From the corner of the eye, Hana could make out a stumbling Jaewon. 

“my my captain, not here to break another tea set right?” Her voice mused aloud, a chuckle following suit. 

[hanaxsy-blog]

Fireworks aren’t so grand | Nine & Hana

@syxnine

Hana isn’t at all sure how she came to stand next to the robot-esque male as the first celebratory fireworks set ablaze in the sky. The sound of the pop of celebration and splatter of colors against a darkened canvas always intrigued her; the mechanisms of such deathly beauty always drawing in her attention. It was the precise measurement, just the right amount of pressure, and an open-enough space that gave birth to such beauty -- but if fired inaccurately or too close, beauty would then give way to chaos: death. And instead of bombs of colors in the sky, the mechanism would shower down burnt, flammatory, remains.  

Such, seemed to be analogous to life. Or the life Hana knew at least. Beautiful, but perhaps only because it was so fleeting. Wondrous but not without sacrifice. As the last of the first round of fireworks cackle upwards, splattering to reveal a darkened sky, Hana hears a poignant query that leaves the other’s lips: “How can a place hurt you? How can promises that never came to be trigger so much pain within?” 

And almost without hesitation, perhaps it was the liquor flowing through her veins that made it so, Hana responded. “because it paints the picture of what could have been. Because it’s grounds are stained with the memories of what you couldn’t have.” 

[hanaxsy-blog]

🌹

make me choose anon asked: hyuna or sunmi

[hanaxsy-blog]

hanaxsy:

yongsunsy:

One of the few things that had kept Yongsun sane throughout his life, something nobody could take from him is his affinity toward art. From sketching what he sees around the verse to singing alone, visiting art museums and collecting pieces from artists across the different planets, he loves it all. Right now that itch to look over possible works others have created takes over, fingertips tapping along with ease once he’s found someone with multiple examples in taste.

Yongsun is no fool, to use the codename from his work would raise far too many red flags. Instead he uses something that can’t be tied to him, a username made purely for scouring the internet on art boards and shops; Starsun. It’s not exactly creative, but it’s enough to use for someone who just can’t think of a good username. Occasionally he’ll upload a sketch or two, not to sell but to simply have an audience albeit one he’d never meet in person, that’s preferred anyway.

Subject: Hey

So, saw your work. Was wondering if you do commissions? It’s brilliant, honestly.

-starsun

Swiveling on the chair, Hana leaned her chin on the table top as fingers swept across her touch-pad. “starsun,” she mused to herself at the message that popped up. “ a commission huh,” she spoke aloud to herself, propping up as she clicked into the person’s profile, browsing through his post history, likes, and the few pieces he created himself. Tapping on the direct-inbox app of the site, Hana decided to respond. 

bellefleur: hey, saw your inquiry just now and thought it’d be easier to use DM’s 

bellefleur: hope you don’t mind but yeah, I do commissions every now and then 

bellefleur: though that depends

bellefleur: on what you’re looking for. 

DIGITS AND FACELESS NAMES | HANA & YONGSUN

[hanaxsy-blog]

syaudrey:

@hanaxsy​

Popping bubblegum as loudly as she could to drown out the talk among the higher-ups of the ranking including the pilots, mercenaries, and even the captain. Barely awake she tried to listen in before finding herself dozing off in the middle of blowing, her bubble shielding her face from the talk of responsibility and compromise that seemed to come with this fucking job. You would thing a group of law breakers wouldn’t have so many damn rules on this ship, it was a pain in the ass to listen to and even worse to do in practice. 

Audrey was awaken suddenly as someone came to pop her bubble across her face as the sound and sensation stirred her to counciousness as she met the eyes of Hana, who was peering over her. “Not you again..” She mumbled before in her perphials, she realized everyone else was gone. The meeting had ended without being awaken yet again. Stretching her arms this way and that way she pulled out a laser pointer and glanced in the former Companion’s general direction. “I fucking hate being the chief.”

Hana didn’t mean to crash the meeting, or post-meeting really, but she liked to explore all the nooks, crannies, and stay-out doors of the serenity. Sure, Jaewon sometimes got angry when she found her in rooms that were crew only, but Hana had never minded being on the receiving end of Jaewon’s wrath. It was in one ear and out the other, and she was opening doors that shouldn’t be opened once-again. 

Only this time, the door wasn’t closed per-say, but open. She’d seen a bunch of the crew members leave not too long ago, so she assumed they had one of their usual meetings. And of course, she’d find Audrey asleep. To make it better, there was a perfect bubble of gum looming over her sleeping figure. and so, pop-went the weasel, and stifling a chuckle, Hana peered down at the waking girl. 

“mmm, and how does falling asleep correlate with you being the chief?” Hana queried, letting out a laugh to a rather grumpy friendly face. 

how far they fall

[hanaxsy-blog]

syjaewon:

yang jaewon does as he’s done since before he could speak, since before he’d garnered his own name, deemed to him by the mouths of babes, children with large eyes and rough hands, he does as he’s done since he lived on valluria, the explosions cascading all around him, the bullets flying, another coup in the streets: he runs. he has no natural speed, no gift for swiftness or light-footedness, but he is smart in how he steps, his mind whirling a thousand kilometers a second to map out a strategy, a vice-grip here, a foothold there, every limb and muscle on fire. he is not careful, has never been careful, but he doesn’t fall and he doesn’t crash and he doesn’t burn, having managed to survive this long with plenty of hounds on his heels before. they can chase him for millennium if they like, they’ll never catch this sandstorm heart.

he heaves thick forest air into his lungs, the strange cold humidity damn near suffocating him, sweat clinging his clothes to his skin, determination raging through his veins, egging him onwards, egging him faster despite the exhaustion in his muscles, his feet aching and throbbing. trees and leaves and twigs and brush, he gets dizzy racing past them all, the sky only visible through tiny slits between branches, the sounds of strange animals and his own breathing filling his ears. his mouth is almost wired shut, teeth clenching, fists white-knuckled, his clothes half-shredded against him, but his eyes are steady, heavy, dark and scorched, sight clear despite this catastrophe of circumstances— he knows he is lost but at least he’s not the only one.

he doesn’t know how long he’s fled, doesn’t know the way out of these woods, doesn’t know when or how vera will be able to find him in this jungle, but he has faith, he believes, and if there’s one being in the whole universe worth something so impossible, it would be the woman who’s been raising him the last few years. he knows it’ll be difficult, but he’s outrun wilder dangers than the sihnon praetorians crawling up his spine, their high-tech guns and tracking devices nothing against the pandemonium of vallurian weather, vallurian deathtraps, vallurian slavers. and jaewon’s beat them all before, he’s confident he can beat these soft core-worlders as well. they don’t know what they’re chasing, don’t know the monster in his blood, the sun in his chest, the way he could turn and devour them one by one, if he can get them separated from each other enough. already at sixteen, he is more of a bullet than a boy.

what he’s not expecting though— what really no one would expect, this far out into the wilderness— is the set up he stumbles into, turning a corner and slipping on some sort of blanket on the ground where he’d assumed his shoe would meet solid rock, his body losing momentum immediately and smashing against shards of white glass and porcelain. he hits the mess of it like a colliding comet, the loud impact resounding against nearby tree trunks, the bark and moss absorbing the noise as best they can before his hunters catch it. he grunts and seethes, hissing between teeth and turning on the other figure in this equation, arms and knees and face cut and bleeding from the now-broken china he picks himself up from the midst of.

now that he’s on the ground though, he struggles to rise up, his eyes meeting that of the girl’s, desperation meeting surprise, but he ignites internally, forces himself to push through the pain, through the skid marks and slices. “what the hell are you doing?” he growls, before a sound catches his ear; the praetorians shouting, dogs howling. “we have to go!” he stands and reaches for her wrist, pulling her along with him, unwilling to let her take anyone else’s side but his.

There is shock in her eyes, though that is quickly replaced by anger and then mere confusion. Hana is unsure of just how to respond to the uninvited guest; who only seemed to be bringing more. And by the sound of the howling dogs and pounding of feet, they weren’t friendly. Her body was still in shock, surprise, foregoing even the pain of being burned by her tea as they watched the boy scramble up in desperation, unruly hair and spritely eyes catching hers before sounds escape. It was then her anger rose to match his, lips curling up as brows arch downwards only to come off as completely harmless as she blundered through her words.

“Wha-what?! what do you mean what the hell am I doing?! What are yo---” and before she could finish her rampage of a rant, she is cut off. Eyes widening in surprise as her body lurches forward, acting of its own accord, as it follows in the steps of this bullet of a boy -- sprinting, running. Her steps are light and airy, mind whirling with a million questions and protests that fail to leave her lips in their haste. And yet she follows swiftly, as if she were learning a new dance. A much more desperate, choppy, and harsh dance.

who the fuck is he? he must not be from these areas...but hmm, has he been running for a while?? why is he being chased? what the fuck did he do. no one gets chased here...smuggler? thief...? slave? Hana wonders. But still she runs, runs with him as if, even without explanation, her body, soul, had deemed him harmless. Good. That in the firmness of his grip, his sweat laced fingertips, and the determination in his flight, he was making a case unheard. One that had already successfully persuaded the flower of sihnon to follow after his footsteps. That whatever the story, he was the victim, and not perpetrator nor aggressor.

It was then that her mind cleared. Hana wasn’t sure how long they’d ran, but she was sure of one thing: the forest. her forest, she’d jokingly think to herself given the hours she’d spent unearthing it’s stories and treasures. It was a haven that she knew inside-out for miles and miles on end. And with a clear mind, her eyes began to recognize the towers of the forest that to unfamiliar eyes looked all the same.

“you better be worth it.” Hana muttered in their haste, speed picking as her hand twiddled around until they were no longer being grabbed by the stranger but she was holding his, fingers-interlocking, as if to reassure him to trust her and follow in her lead of their haphazardly dance.

With a few sharp turns around elder trees, passing ponds and over decaying trunks, Hana arrived at one of her secret havens, slowly to a halt at the mound of looming green before slipping inside with the other in tow. Their feet reveberating in the hollow cave, small rock corridors leading in what seemed to be oblivion, but in reality was just a small open space.

“w-wait.” Hana’s soft voice rang out, breathing heavy as she let go of the other, standing still to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cave. She moved away towards the corner of the room, finding a candle and a candle holder before lighting it with a lighter she stowed away nearby. She was still holding her one teacup that hadn’t been ruined by his grand entrance just earlier, it’s existence almost reminding her of just what he’d ruin.

A click and a flame arose, lighting the wick to reveal Hana in all her disheveled glory: irate irises, sweat-laced skin, crimson, wind-blown locks, and an unpleasant glare on a usually smiley face. A hand extends forth, revealing the perfect china cup as she states, “Just a cup. Of an entire tea-set, hand-painted, engraved by one of the most famed artists, a gift. and now I just have one cup. you better pay up.”

It seemed silly, that after all they’d gone through in short span of time, that this was the most pressing issue on her mind. Her tea-set. Her broken table. And the interruption of her practice time. Maybe she’ll get around to the rest, curiosity still dormant in the face of her current frustrations.

GERANIUMS & FORGET-ME-NOT’S | Hana & Jaewon

[hanaxsy-blog]

[hanaxsy-blog]

[hanaxsy-blog]

🍺 What's your favorite part of Sihnon?

“hmmmm,” Hana lets out a sing-song chime, leaning her head on the table now littered with empty bottles of soju. “favorite part huh, now that’s quite hard.” Though the question did bring about a fair amount of good memories. Out of all the core planets, or all of the planets in general, Sihnon had always been Hana’s favorite. In fact, And though her leaving left a bad taste in the mouths of the guild, she still had quite a number of friends (be it companions or clients alike) that she would visit every now and then. “I love everything about sihnon.” she admits truthfully, “don’t you?” she queried back to the other. Perhaps for Audrey, there was less so good memories of the place, and more bad, but for Hana, Sihnon had been the place she’d been reborn. Literally. “I mean, maybe not the people,” she chuckled, a joke really, “but the planet itself is heavenly. I mean, the trees....if you closed your eyes it was as if they were speaking to you, their words being carried on by the soft whispers of the wind. and the animals,” she chuckled, “and the plants...” she gave a soft sigh, “and the waterfalls...” a nostalgic smile crossed her features, “It is my heaven in this galaxy.” she mused honestly. 

[hanaxsy-blog]

[hanaxsy-blog]

DIGITS AND FACELESS NAMES | HANA & YONGSUN

@yongsunsy

Hana gave a huff, hair trickling down her mattress as she gazed out into the Black, hoping for inspiration to hit her fingertips. She stared at the blank canvas that was propped up on the easel in the corner. It had been a lazy few months. No real reasons or interesting jobs to take, and the ship was only traveling from planet to planet. What went along with the crew wasn’t her responsibility, and life had grown slightly dull. And perhaps that is why she chose to turn to the root of her escapes, art. 

But she lacked a muse. Lacked a drive to create. With her laptop propped open on her desk, a small ‘ding’ signaling a wave caught her attention. The darkened browser window flashed thrice, signaling a message on her art-board. For years, Hana had joined the society of artists, creators, under the alias Bellefleur to both make some side money from her hobby as well as to keep up to date on the newest emerging talents. And well, every now and then, she’d make a connection. 

She wondered who it could be as she sat on her swivel chair, clicking open the browser to find a message waiting to be opened. 

hana’s art style references: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[hanaxsy-blog]

🍺 what was the worst part about being a companion?

“Nothing was every real. Everything was temporary, fleeting, just like the sweetness of this gummy. Beautifully satisfying in the moment, so sweet and joyous that when it disappears, you are left with nothing.” As if to make her point, she plops the red gummy into her mouth. 

Though it has only been three years, Hana can never erase her identity as a companion, nor would she wish it. Hana never despised the occupation, or the guild (aside from the annoying rules they had on so many things) and she didn’t hate the alliance despite all that she’s seen from the inside. The problems were inevitable, corruption and oppression unavoidable, they were the sacrifices in order to maintain a balance. A balance that had been in the galaxy long before the human race. Without the darkness, how could one enjoy the light? 

And she’d gotten lucky. Born with the beauty and wit that was required of a companion. Her prestige and demand skyrocketing not only her prices, but her ability to be selective. Life has a companion had been good to her. She had wealth, status, and prestige. She had been adored, and also envied. But she left because that was no longer enough. The world may have wanted Hana, but she needed something else. Something else to fill the void, because, she knew, none of it was real. Admiration, adoration, but a fleeting emotion that would pass once her time came. And so, instead of allowing time to strip her bare of her beauty and prestige, she chose to leave. To leave of her own accord, so that it wasn’t the world forgetting her, but her stripping the world of all she could give.