#char: syrus han

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

LOCATION: THE HAMPTONS AVAILABILITY: CLOSED FOR @syrvses​

Her lips are stained red, her hands are wrapped around a stick, and her eyes are glued on a club owner. The moment Yasmin saw Syrus there, she knew she had to go over. It was part of her new job. It was what her godmother expected from her. It was why she came all the way out here in the first place.

So once she saw him, she went and got a popsicle. Promised herself she’d have more courage venture forth after she finished it. Once her fingers are coated with cherry syrup and she’s left licking a bare wooden stick. All of her excuses melted away with the frozen treat, eaten away by the sun. It was time for Yasmin to play her part.

Her nerves dissipated with every step she took, and her mind tried to figure out which opening line would make her seem the more unassuming, more gentile and innocent. Make her seem like anything other than the manipulative backstabber she’d recently become.

                                 Need some tanning lotion?

                                 I thought vampires couldn’t go out in the sun!

                                 Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

He was no only a few yards away, and she was still completely unsure of what she was doing. She did noticed that Syrus seemed completely oblivious to her, completely engrossed with something on his phone. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she slowly approached him from behind, then suddenly jumped beside him shouting “BOO!” It was a bit childish, but it played in her favor. And if she could actually manage to surprise the big bad Hades, then that’d just be a bonus.

[persephonesings-archive-blog]

CALL ✆ YASMIN → SYRUS

Yasmin: A-Are you okay? I saw the news and I—I...Please just tell me you're safe.

[persephonesings-archive-blog]

With her cushy upbringing and saccharine disposition, many expected that Yasmin was incapable of harming a fly. And she’d never do so intentionally, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t knock over a grown man twice her size if she had to. But with Harvey and Juliana both in the mob, it made sense that she’d be raised learning basic self-defense, among other things. Perhaps Yasmin should’ve been more offended that Syrus hadn’t already assumed that, but she couldn’t fault him for it. What she could fault him for, however, was the explosion at the dock.

Just as he should’ve known better than to assume she needed to be taught self-defense, Yasmin should’ve known better than to believe that the explosion was unrelated to New Olympus. Despite what he’d told her, all the evidence still pointed to Syrus, and she’d have to be blind not to see it.  And if Yasmin was smart, she’d avoid him completely. And yet, she still showed up to the dojo, clad in her cutest workout gear, ready to play the role of the dumb blonde in need of protection. Along with singing, Yasmin’s talents included coming up with terrible, potentially dangerous ideas. Kissing up to a mob boss for information about a terrorist attack was high up on the list.

Her mind was filled with questions as she began stretching on the floor, and Yasmin hoped she wasn’t entirely over her head. Her last attempt at coaxing some answers out of him didn’t work out too well, but that was because she was a bit hostile and strung out from the aftermath of the explosion. Tonight, she’d be nothing but sweet and unassuming, bring down his guard and coax the answers out of him with her charm. It helped that they were virtually alone (for once); with their crazy work schedules, they could only meet up late, late at night for this impromptu training session, and the only other people in the 24-hour gym were health nuts and tired employees. The thought of being almost completely alone with Syrus, and in close proximity with him, made Yasmin feel a bit anxious. Though she wasn’t certain whether her nerves were out of excitement or fear.

Though her back was to the door, Yasmin could see Syrus come in through the mirror. Showtime. The smile she gave him wasn’t completely ingenuine, but it was still brighter than usual. “Hi, Syrus. I hope you’re ready to teach me. I’ve been waiting all week for this.” It was true, but not for the reasons he thought. Tonight, Yasmin would finally get some real answers, whether he was ready or not.

( @syrvses​ )

[persephonesings-archive-blog]

“...So did you enjoy the show?” Her voice was chipper, making her sound at ease though her body language revealed otherwise. From the moment she saw him, she’d begun to anxiously toy with the rings on her fingers, and was unable to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time before looking back down at her glittering hands.

( @syrvses )

[persephonesings-archive-blog]

±

Send me ± for a headcanon about our characters.

Aside from Disney’s Hercules, Yasmin was never very interested in Greek mythology. The stories seemed very bloody and always ended tragically. But Syrus always had a way of making the myths sound compelling and interesting. Now, she finds herself looking up obscure myths and deities, just so she can have something to talk about with him. Though her opinion of the subject hasn’t changed much, Yasmin simply enjoys listening to Syrus talk about something with enthusiasm.

[persephonesings-archive-blog]

kiss

Kiss: My character will kiss yours.

The man runs on gasoline, a robot in human skin. His emotions and desires are locked deep within the confines of his heart, but with time she’s discovered how to draw them out, and how to quell them. A kiss on his nose when he’s irritated, on his cheek when he’s stubborn, on his temple when he’s stressed. Her lipstick stains his bathroom mirror, his coffee mugs, his pillowcase, the post-it notes on his desk — each mark behind on purpose to ensure that he never feels lonely on the days she’s away.

Another thing she’s noticed is how he rarely seems tired. He works night and day and still finds the time to be with her, which leaves her to question when he makes time to rest. Even while they’re in bed, he’s composing lectures on whim, so caught up in retelling an old myth that he doesn’t notice her eyelids beginning to droop. At some point in the night, he shifts from Aphrodite’s sea foam birth to Schliemann’s messy excavation of Troy, filling her ears with history and preventing sleep from ever coming. It’s charming, and she adores how enthusiastic he is, but this bedtime story loses its appeal by 4:30 in the morning.

“And Sophia simply waltzes downstairs to the party, wearing the Jewels of Helen and ever—” But Yasmin never hears the end of that tale, for she cuts him off with a kiss before he can finish telling it. Perhaps it’s impolite to interrupt, but he doesn’t seem to have any complaints. She swallows his words, and pulls away to fall right back onto the mattress, not bothering to catch his expression as she tosses the sheets over her head and allows sleep to finally take over.