#despite the fact i take the 401 (aka hell) to work

[kairoskrp]

                                     — On the wicked wings of time, thy kingdom comes

Meet [ Son Seunghwan ]

She is a [ twenty-four ] year old  [ performer at allure nightclub ] currently residing in [ studio 57, #401 ].Visit  and greet  her today!

Personality:

No-one quite knows the dancer at Allure nightclub. She dances with amazing beauty and grace, and those who know her body intimately don’t even begin to know her mind. She’s a quiet girl, speaking only when she feels that it’s necessary. But something just feels a little… Off about the way she carries herself. She’s constantly wearing a mask, whether one of seduction and confidence when on the job or one of serenity and temperance when not.

Whenever no-one’s looking, a surge of sadness seems to overtake her, and her eyes look well older than someone her age. Her mask is cracking, and when it falls, she makes sure that it’s in the privacy of her apartment and out of public sight. The girl who can’t grow up is stuck in her past, unable to find her way home when she doesn’t seem to have one. Home is where the heart is, but she’s lost hers a long time ago. When she’s kind, she’s understanding and compassionate. But when she’s angry… A cold sort of fury washes over her, and she seems serene to people who do not know her. Temperatures around her seem to go down, and it’s probably best to leave her presence until she calms herself down.

Spirit: Khione

Power: Cryokinetic construction

+ Can be used to create barriers, weapons, platforms etc. out of ice -  Tires out user extremely quickly, can lead to fainting if uncontrolled + Ice able to manifest without the use of water around - User herself is not immune to the cold aka. Frostbite

Biography:

[Trigger warning: alcohol mention, blood, graphic violence, attempted rape]

Wendy was a child of winter. Ever since she was tiny, she always loved to play outside in the snow, worrying her parents to no end. She’d come home with frost-bitten fingers and cheeks stung by the wind and smiling so brightly her parents couldn’t help but smile back. Little did they know that her childhood would be her happiest years on this Earth. Her love for the cold never left her as she grew up into a talented young woman, excelling in Korean and also English. Not only was Wendy an excellent student, but her passion in life was in dancing. There were two things she loved the most in the world; snow and dancing. Endless hours of practice was put into her life. If she couldn’t get something wrong, she’d repeat it over and over until she fixed her mistake, even if this means muscles screaming in protest and bruised feet for days to come.

In achieving her dreams, she gave up on having close friends. The only people she loved were her parents who has supported her since the beginning. Following her dreams to America, Wendy attended high school in a prestigious academy for dancers. There, she truly felt a sense of competition and relished being able to express her talent. She missed her parents dearly, but used this as incentive to work harder. Jealousy and animosity surrounded her constantly, but she only had to distance herself from them, no big deal. Quickly, she rose up in the school’s ranks and became one of the top young dancers in the state. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Wendy started training even harder. She needed to become the best of the best.

But this wasn’t to be. During her third year, the news of her mother’s cancer diagnosis brought her life crashing down. Despite Wendy’s protests, her mother insisted that she should pursue her dreams in America and not go back to Korea. With a heavy heart, she continued to dance. Countless medals and trophies littered her dorm room. Heavy bags under her eyes were a constant now; makeup wasn’t her forte and she only had so much time in the morning before she needed to go to her daily morning rehearsal. Wendy began drinking. It wasn’t a sudden thing, the alcohol slowly worked its way through her body and in turn, her life. And yet, she danced on. She danced through the news of her mother’s passing. Even her teachers and mentors grew concerned for her, and she’d brush them off with a tired smile which looked melancholic and so, so alone.

It was winter when she returned to Korea, taking a break before her final year. Her father was driving from the airport after picking her up when the truck swerved in from seemingly nowhere. There was no time to brace for the impact. Wendy held her breath as she waited for her impeding death, her last thought being “Even if I die, I don’t want my father to die with me.” The crash never came. Instead, the truck stood, frozen solid right there on the road. Wendy’s hands were outstretched towards it without her even realising it. Suddenly, she felt so very tired. So tired, in fact, when she woke up it was two days later. Everything around her was white, so she panicked and thought that she did die after all and what had happened was a figment of her imagination. Then a nurse entered the room and told her that her father has suffered a heart attack due to stress and suddenly Wendy realised that she was living in her personal version of hell, a fate worse than death.

Tears dripped down her face, and she didn’t say a word. What was there to say when what you’ve been working towards all your life has lead to everyone around you being ripped away from you? Wendy didn’t go back to America after that, she sent them a letter of explanation and never checked for a response sure to be filled with empty words of condolences. She couldn’t bear to set foot into a dance studio. Not with the ghosts of her parents staring at her with cold, cold, eyes. So she started working at Allure nightclub as a dancer, muting her skills and confining herself to a life of predictability and order. She couldn’t see any faces in the darkened room with the light up floor, and so she didn’t have to deal with the ghosts of her past. She didn’t want to accept the presence of another voice inside her head. Sharing her body with some… thing was tiring. Her powers laid dormant, itching beneath her skin and just aching to be used.

Voices would whisper to her in the middle of the night, so she would put on headphones. Wendy never thought she’d have to deal with her powers until the fateful night when her life was thrown into a spin once more. As she was heading home from the club, a gang forced her into an alley and rough hands began to force down her dress before she screamed and a hand closed around her throat, cutting off her voice and breath as more hands crept up her legs. Before she knew what was happening, icicles shot out from the ground and there was blood, so much blood and she thought the sound of screaming would never leave her ears. By the time the police arrived, all the ice has melted and Wendy was nowhere to be found, only leaving behind bodies which appeared to be horribly mutilated by multiple stab wounds from different directions. No-one was arrested, and the city eventually forgot. But Wendy never will. The voice don’t go away even after 2 years, and it always reminds her of what she’s done. And so, Wendy dances on, faces of the dead zooming past her as she spins, round and round and round…