Who: Briar Brooke
Where: Wicked's Rest State Park
When: Friday evening, 2/09
Warnings: A little existential
What:
New beginnings look like little valleys in unknown forests outside of an unknown town in the middle of winter. Briar is going to try, anyway.
“There you go.”
Briar patted gently at the mud at the base of the checker-mallow’s stem. It coated their fingers and palms but they didn’t pay it any mind. It wasn’t quite right. The sediment was just a little different, the temperature was a little cooler than it had been over the past decade, the surrounding plant life didn’t know them, and there was a breeze that smelled like a different kind of pine than what they knew back home. The little plant shivered.
Briar shivered, and their chest felt too tight they almost couldn’t breathe. “Don’t be like that. Your ancestors would have loved this place.”
Perhaps, but Briar couldn’t be certain of that. There was no way to be certain of an impossible hypothetical. The little flower’s ancestors were long gone. Its friends and family stood wilting in a field all the way across the country. They were the chosen one, uprooted and carted into an airplane, deposited in a new field in a new state with new mud and new pine and new everything. No other Oregon checkerbloom had ever taken root in this soil.
Briar sat cross-legged in front of the flower and traced a finger slowly over one of its last remaining petals, still clinging on despite the mountain frost. The shivering slowed, and stilled, and they both breathed a sigh. The tightness in Briar’s chest eased just the smallest amount. It didn’t matter whether or not this was possible, or whether or not anyone had tried. They were there, and they had to do their best.
They glanced around at the little valley they had chosen. The morning marine layer was still making its way over the seven peaks of mountains Briar couldn’t name yet, the fog slowly giving way to a breeze that tossed the tall grass around them. One of the mountains towered to their left. It almost looked like Mount Stuart, if they squinted. The ground was wet enough that the mud dripped off their hands when they pressed them into it. They couldn’t hear anyone, but the occasional whir of an airplane passing high above could be heard.
There was a lot to be learned about their new home. There was a lot Briar would have to apologize for, a lot of compromises to be made, a lot of discussions to be had as they moved forward. Their hands weaved through the tall grass and they made a promise to share, to never overwhelm. They would have to explore properly once the checker-mallow didn’t look quite so pale. Maybe there would be another Leshy poking out from behind the pines.
Maybe the two of them wouldn’t be alone. They let it be quiet for another moment, two moments, and found their hope once more.
“It’s going to be okay.” There was a soft certainty in their voice, something Briar would cling to until the moment they couldn’t anymore. “Just…don’t be invasive, okay?”
The little flower shook, a laugh, and Briar smiled bright for the first time since they’d uprooted their everything and moved across the country.
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˗ˏˋ Idol Au inspired by @manawari ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
・┆✦ Entry : 014 ✦ ┆・
╰┈➤ ❝ [ The Prince of Death; Monarch of Shadows] ¡! ❞
Idol!Sung Jinwoo in which his theme revolves around darkness ofc. But specifically it revolves around time and the bitter clutches of being alone on the bring of insanity.
His songs revolve around the idea of wandering in an infinite loop. Existential crisis and such. The pain of being being alone. The agony of a soul who yearns for the spotlight, who yearns for recognition, the crave for glory.
He sings songs of misery, of tears, of anguish and longing. His instrumental with dramatic violins and pianos. Luring you even more into the dark depths of the abyss that he embodies. He tugs at your soul with his deep voice. Lullabies that are full of sadness and complexities and such
Idol!Jinwoo in which his solo choreography is similar to an emotional ballet. Fluid movements as if he were drawing shadows in the air. Hypnotizing you with his movements that were ever so beautiful and graceful.
Though, he does take a change of phase sometimes. Love songs that are just fluffy and warm, dreamy instrumentals that goes along with his deep voice. It's as if he is coaxing you, cooing at you ever so lovingly. His love songs make you feel like dancing around in the rain in his hand. He makes you feel like a princess with how gentle and loving his voice becomes.
A lullaby so to speak, a lullaby that makes you feel like you are floating on clouds. A field of flowers on your bare feet, and there he is, guiding you in such a breath taking view. He wants you to feel his heart, he wants you to feel important, his love songs exist as his canvas of longing.
"Can you call out my name sweetly once more? Let me hear your voice, part your pretty lips and utter my name." His voice lowers into a teasing whisper, tickling your ears and most especially your heart. After all, our Jinwoo is such a charmer.
Will you give in though? Will you call out his name so dearly?
ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .。��・゚: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.
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𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗈́𝗇 𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖾.
nunca pudo resistirse a la buena música. tal vez uno de sus principales placeres culpables, porque con banda en vivo... dios, ¿cómo no ceder al excelente ambiente del salón? canturrea canción que reconoce por la radio local, aunque los torpes pasos de individuos en la pista de baile provocan ascenso de labios. ' tsk, pisó su vestido como ocho veces en menos de dos minutos. ' comunica relativamente tranquilo, sabiendo que será escuchado por quien ha decidido unirse a él. ' ¿team no saber bailar o fallar en encontrar la pareja adecuada? '
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