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β’β’ n a m e : xxxRyu Yeong
β’β’ a l i a s : xxanarchistxxinsurgent
β’β’ h u m a nxxn a m e : xxxPark Haneul
β’β’ a g e : xxxthree hundred and eighty six
β’β’ s e x u a l i t y : xxx? ; panromantic
β’β’ c o u r t : xxxwinter
β’β’ r o l e : xxxxxxexile
β’β’ o c c u p a t i o n : xxxbartender
β’β’ p r i m a r yxxp o w e r : xxxweather
β’β’ s e c o n d a r yxxp o w e r : xxxindomitable, chaos
β’β’ t h o u g h txxc o l o u r : xxx#d89f9f
β’β’ d i a l o g u exxc o l o u r : xxx#7dbdB8
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
ββββββββββββββββββββββββeither the heart would break or cease to care. best cease to care
ββββββββββββββββββββββββeither the heart would break or cease to care. best cease to care
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β’β’ a p p e a r a n c e
S o xxxstrange that a boy so strong has allowed his skin to become paper. Paper in that it is inked with artistry- a masterfully illustrated, seemingly random assortment of images and designs. His fair olive flesh is a canvas that he keeps adding to, and he shows no sign of stopping. In fae form, these tattoos turn from contemporary, human symbols to ancient fae runes. They multiply and spread, a sea of delicate lace less inked and more engraved into his skin. The fae symbols spread to his face, reaching to his lips and curling about his sharp cheekbones like desperate fingers over a cliff edge.
I n xxxboth forms, his hair falls in soft laziness. Sleek, with the slightest of waves, his dark locks frame about his sharp cheekbones like silk curtains, falling longer at the front of his face than at the nape of his neck. As a fae, however, it seems just a touch wilder, and stretches several inches to hang about his shoulders, whilst ebony oribi-esque horns pierce the black, like seedlings breaking through earth. His figure, meanwhile, is slim and lean; long-legged with a frame that is fit without being especially bulky or heavily muscled. His long limbs only emphasise his slimmer shape, but whilst his body is far from a thing of intimidating brawn, his gaze is something else entirely.
I c e xxxcold and yet capable of burning, his dark-eyed stare (dark brown when human, obsidian when fae) is almost as frightening as the sly smirk tugging at his lips. Those lips, soft and bowed, play a cruel game of suggestion. I know something you don't, they say without speaking. The gaze never falters, and the young man is seemingly immune to the pain of dry eyes, for he can seemingly go for forever without blinking. He does not break the contact, only taking pleasure from the discomfort his unnerving glare brings. I'm cheating at this game we're playing, but there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.
T h e n xxxthere are other moments. Moments when his expression is humorless. Cynical. Stormy. One can feel the glare well before they meet his eyes, for it slowly burns at them like ants beneath a magnifying glass. Again, it does not break. Burning. Burning. You... you are going to find yourself very regretful, very soon.
F o r xxx a young man so ferociously difficult to decipher, he can be startlingly easy to read when he wants to be.
S o xxxstrange that a boy so strong has allowed his skin to become paper. Paper in that it is inked with artistry- a masterfully illustrated, seemingly random assortment of images and designs. His fair olive flesh is a canvas that he keeps adding to, and he shows no sign of stopping. In fae form, these tattoos turn from contemporary, human symbols to ancient fae runes. They multiply and spread, a sea of delicate lace less inked and more engraved into his skin. The fae symbols spread to his face, reaching to his lips and curling about his sharp cheekbones like desperate fingers over a cliff edge.
I n xxxboth forms, his hair falls in soft laziness. Sleek, with the slightest of waves, his dark locks frame about his sharp cheekbones like silk curtains, falling longer at the front of his face than at the nape of his neck. As a fae, however, it seems just a touch wilder, and stretches several inches to hang about his shoulders, whilst ebony oribi-esque horns pierce the black, like seedlings breaking through earth. His figure, meanwhile, is slim and lean; long-legged with a frame that is fit without being especially bulky or heavily muscled. His long limbs only emphasise his slimmer shape, but whilst his body is far from a thing of intimidating brawn, his gaze is something else entirely.
I c e xxxcold and yet capable of burning, his dark-eyed stare (dark brown when human, obsidian when fae) is almost as frightening as the sly smirk tugging at his lips. Those lips, soft and bowed, play a cruel game of suggestion. I know something you don't, they say without speaking. The gaze never falters, and the young man is seemingly immune to the pain of dry eyes, for he can seemingly go for forever without blinking. He does not break the contact, only taking pleasure from the discomfort his unnerving glare brings. I'm cheating at this game we're playing, but there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.
T h e n xxxthere are other moments. Moments when his expression is humorless. Cynical. Stormy. One can feel the glare well before they meet his eyes, for it slowly burns at them like ants beneath a magnifying glass. Again, it does not break. Burning. Burning. You... you are going to find yourself very regretful, very soon.
F o r xxx a young man so ferociously difficult to decipher, he can be startlingly easy to read when he wants to be.
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββthe world had shrugged at him and revealed its indifference
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββthe world had shrugged at him and revealed its indifference
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β’β’ p e r s o n a l i t y
H E ' S xxxhardly the easiest person to get along with. His smooth features are inordinately misleading, contrasting immensely with his internal coarseness. This coarseness is much like the edge of a tin can, in that its rough edges catch and cut, leaving wounds that sting and hurt regardless of their size. And he is so unapologetic. He shows no guilt for the cuts he makes, the pain he causes. He sees affliction as something almost inevitable; something that needs to be had, for the sake of healing stronger, and learning from one's mistakes. Ironic, then, that he seldom acknowledges his own mistakes. His pride could easily be the end of him, for the amount of time he spends dedicated to keeping it in tact. He is not one to kneel, regardless of circumstances, and seems to treasure his ego over his life.
H I S xxxexterior is one of cool abrasiveness, and his words always seem to come out blunt even when he is making an effort to be civil. He is near impossible to approach by a stranger, for the ice that so often breathes from him. Even when smiling, there is this inexplicable chill to him, and to be frank, it is frightening. He is not incapable of kindness, but so seldom does he ever feel truly warm, that it is not rare for one to doubt his status as a living, breathing being.
H I S xxx cynicism falls into both versions of the word. He is indeed distrustful of human integrity, and tends to assume that people are motivated by selfish means. But then, he is also falls into that category himself, being very selfish and always focusing on himself and his sister, above everything and anything. His humor is sardonic and sarcastic, and a mocking smirk is always quick to his lips. He is both mysterious and honest in that he keeps his personal feelings and thoughts close to his chest, but is very open about his opinions of others.
L I V I N G xxx in a world supposedly against him, his capacity for sympathy is rather limited. He has hardened himself, built armour around his heart to keep any potential damage. His trust is tremendously difficult to obtain, and he struggles with loyalty, for whilst he admires it, life-or-death situations tend to bring about his survival instincts rather than thoughts of teamwork and nobility. He is fearsome in his protectiveness, and more than a touch vindictive when he feels like he -or, more often, his sister- has been wronged. His softness is difficult to uncover, but it is there. One can see it when he is with his sister, or when he is interacting with kids, whom he has a considerable amount more respect for than most adults. One can see it in his inner conflict, as he struggles with everything that he hates about himself, yet fights to maintain a guise of indifference.
S I N C E xxx his exile, he's become a touch more open about his waywardness. His devil-may-care attitude flaunts itself proudly, relishing in the fact that he is such a good actor. Where are his insecurities? His concerns? His fears? He refuses to be penitent, even when beneath his ashy surface, he is struck by bouts of regret. He plasters on a smirk, and throws the dice again and again. He has no power over luck, but that does not inspire the prudence it should. Because even the harshest losses offer him a purpose- to win it all back again. And, in truth, that is what he wants most of all: a purpose; something to live for. Or die for. It really depends on the day, fickle thing that he is.
E V E N xxx in his bouts of self-righteousness, he knows all too well that he is far from a good person. He knows that he could be labelled a bully, a liar, a traitor, and there would be little he could do to deny such accusations. He feels disdain for his many, many shortcomings, but has developed a grim view of life and the world; one cannot change oneself. Regret and remorse do not reverse actions, nor do apologies or attempts at redemption. He sees the world in black and white, to the point where he simply does not belief in the presence of colour.
H E ' S xxxhardly the easiest person to get along with. His smooth features are inordinately misleading, contrasting immensely with his internal coarseness. This coarseness is much like the edge of a tin can, in that its rough edges catch and cut, leaving wounds that sting and hurt regardless of their size. And he is so unapologetic. He shows no guilt for the cuts he makes, the pain he causes. He sees affliction as something almost inevitable; something that needs to be had, for the sake of healing stronger, and learning from one's mistakes. Ironic, then, that he seldom acknowledges his own mistakes. His pride could easily be the end of him, for the amount of time he spends dedicated to keeping it in tact. He is not one to kneel, regardless of circumstances, and seems to treasure his ego over his life.
H I S xxxexterior is one of cool abrasiveness, and his words always seem to come out blunt even when he is making an effort to be civil. He is near impossible to approach by a stranger, for the ice that so often breathes from him. Even when smiling, there is this inexplicable chill to him, and to be frank, it is frightening. He is not incapable of kindness, but so seldom does he ever feel truly warm, that it is not rare for one to doubt his status as a living, breathing being.
H I S xxx cynicism falls into both versions of the word. He is indeed distrustful of human integrity, and tends to assume that people are motivated by selfish means. But then, he is also falls into that category himself, being very selfish and always focusing on himself and his sister, above everything and anything. His humor is sardonic and sarcastic, and a mocking smirk is always quick to his lips. He is both mysterious and honest in that he keeps his personal feelings and thoughts close to his chest, but is very open about his opinions of others.
L I V I N G xxx in a world supposedly against him, his capacity for sympathy is rather limited. He has hardened himself, built armour around his heart to keep any potential damage. His trust is tremendously difficult to obtain, and he struggles with loyalty, for whilst he admires it, life-or-death situations tend to bring about his survival instincts rather than thoughts of teamwork and nobility. He is fearsome in his protectiveness, and more than a touch vindictive when he feels like he -or, more often, his sister- has been wronged. His softness is difficult to uncover, but it is there. One can see it when he is with his sister, or when he is interacting with kids, whom he has a considerable amount more respect for than most adults. One can see it in his inner conflict, as he struggles with everything that he hates about himself, yet fights to maintain a guise of indifference.
S I N C E xxx his exile, he's become a touch more open about his waywardness. His devil-may-care attitude flaunts itself proudly, relishing in the fact that he is such a good actor. Where are his insecurities? His concerns? His fears? He refuses to be penitent, even when beneath his ashy surface, he is struck by bouts of regret. He plasters on a smirk, and throws the dice again and again. He has no power over luck, but that does not inspire the prudence it should. Because even the harshest losses offer him a purpose- to win it all back again. And, in truth, that is what he wants most of all: a purpose; something to live for. Or die for. It really depends on the day, fickle thing that he is.
E V E N xxx in his bouts of self-righteousness, he knows all too well that he is far from a good person. He knows that he could be labelled a bully, a liar, a traitor, and there would be little he could do to deny such accusations. He feels disdain for his many, many shortcomings, but has developed a grim view of life and the world; one cannot change oneself. Regret and remorse do not reverse actions, nor do apologies or attempts at redemption. He sees the world in black and white, to the point where he simply does not belief in the presence of colour.
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
βββββββββββββjust drink, drink, drink and screw, screw, screw things up
βββββββββββββjust drink, drink, drink and screw, screw, screw things up
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β’β’ l i k e s
xxxstreet food.xxxmotorcycles. xxxpiercings xxxsteak. xxxpoetry. xxxcigarettes. xxx sleeping. xxxcity lights at night. xxxhotels. xxxspicy food. xxxclaw machines. xxxstorms. xxx'hype' music. xxxVincent Van Gogh. xxxalcohol. xxxcard games. xxxhot showers. xxxstar gazing. xxxhuman reality television (he gets invested). xxxscars, marks and tattoos. xxxunique jewellery. xxxspontaneity.
xxxrock, R&B and jazz music. xxxlemon, lime and bitters.
β’β’ d i s l i k e s
xxxhorror films.xxxhugs. xxxpretentiousness. xxxauthority.
xxxcapitalism. xxxEDM. xxxcinnamon. xxxhospitals. xxxeggs. xxxpublic transport. xxxketchup. xxxpublic pools. xxxbabies. xxxmusicals (with the exception of Hamilton). xxxgossiping. xxxgetting up early. xxx ignorance.xxx elevators.
xxxstreet food.xxxmotorcycles. xxxpiercings xxxsteak. xxxpoetry. xxxcigarettes. xxx sleeping. xxxcity lights at night. xxxhotels. xxxspicy food. xxxclaw machines. xxxstorms. xxx'hype' music. xxxVincent Van Gogh. xxxalcohol. xxxcard games. xxxhot showers. xxxstar gazing. xxxhuman reality television (he gets invested). xxxscars, marks and tattoos. xxxunique jewellery. xxxspontaneity.
xxxrock, R&B and jazz music. xxxlemon, lime and bitters.
β’β’ d i s l i k e s
xxxhorror films.xxxhugs. xxxpretentiousness. xxxauthority.
xxxcapitalism. xxxEDM. xxxcinnamon. xxxhospitals. xxxeggs. xxxpublic transport. xxxketchup. xxxpublic pools. xxxbabies. xxxmusicals (with the exception of Hamilton). xxxgossiping. xxxgetting up early. xxx ignorance.xxx elevators.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
βββββββββββββββwe know so much and we know nothing, absolutely nothing, nothing at all
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
βββββββββββββββwe know so much and we know nothing, absolutely nothing, nothing at all
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β’β’ s t r e n g t h s
A d a p t a b i l i t y xxxit seems as though Yeong is always ready; ready for change, be it for better or (more often) for worse. He reacts almost immediately, shifting and changing how he must, in a constant state of evolution, adapting to survive and rarely caught off guard.
W i l l xxxperhaps, in the minds of others, this could be seen as a flaw of one's personality, but for Yeong, his steadfast nature only means that he always has a faster route to what he wants. He is stubborn and persistent, seldom showing even glimpses of indecision, and even more rarely exampling any sort of compliance or passivity.
F i g h t i n g xxxnot the classy, professional, military stuff of the fae army. No, he is a brawler and a street fighter. He plays dirty, rough, unpredictably, much to the ire of his opponents.
A d a p t a b i l i t y xxxit seems as though Yeong is always ready; ready for change, be it for better or (more often) for worse. He reacts almost immediately, shifting and changing how he must, in a constant state of evolution, adapting to survive and rarely caught off guard.
W i l l xxxperhaps, in the minds of others, this could be seen as a flaw of one's personality, but for Yeong, his steadfast nature only means that he always has a faster route to what he wants. He is stubborn and persistent, seldom showing even glimpses of indecision, and even more rarely exampling any sort of compliance or passivity.
F i g h t i n g xxxnot the classy, professional, military stuff of the fae army. No, he is a brawler and a street fighter. He plays dirty, rough, unpredictably, much to the ire of his opponents.
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β’β’ w e a k n e s s e s
T e m p e r xxxDespite his supposed coolness, he does flare quite easily. Although he tries to keep his temper under control, his vindictive nature often reveals the truth, even when his expression does not. He is quick to violence and aggression, particularly when sensitive topics are broached.
C a l l o u s n e s s xxxsympathy is not something that comes easily to Yeong. He tends to ignore any empathy-driven urges he may have in favour of himself and his own priorities. He does not often worry about whether or not his words or actions may hurt people, at least not strangers.
A l o o f n e s s xxxhe has long-since found that life is easier when one is not burdened by emotional involvement. That way, one can't be betrayed, nor have their heart broken. And thus, he has worked hard to distance himself, maintaining a cool and detached personality that shields himself in a way that his indomitable abilities do not.
T e m p e r xxxDespite his supposed coolness, he does flare quite easily. Although he tries to keep his temper under control, his vindictive nature often reveals the truth, even when his expression does not. He is quick to violence and aggression, particularly when sensitive topics are broached.
C a l l o u s n e s s xxxsympathy is not something that comes easily to Yeong. He tends to ignore any empathy-driven urges he may have in favour of himself and his own priorities. He does not often worry about whether or not his words or actions may hurt people, at least not strangers.
A l o o f n e s s xxxhe has long-since found that life is easier when one is not burdened by emotional involvement. That way, one can't be betrayed, nor have their heart broken. And thus, he has worked hard to distance himself, maintaining a cool and detached personality that shields himself in a way that his indomitable abilities do not.
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β’β’ m a g i cxx&xxe q u i p m e n t
P r i m a r y xxx when one has a nature has tumultuous as Yeong's, the power over weather is only fitting. Yeong can bend the weather to his will, from spreading the clouds to create a sunny day to brewing intense and dangerous storms. In moments of rage, which only so often rise to the surface, he can set the sky ablaze with lightning, or stir around himself brutal and tearing winds. With his abilities, he is both the calm and the storm.
S e c o n d a r y xxxYeong's indomitable ability is erratic in that, whilst his extremely impressive pain tolerance comes to him quite easily, the strength part of the equation only really surfaces in moments of emotional intensity, particularly anger. It is also quite an exhausting ability to use, and any major uses of this ability tend to result in headaches or tiredness.
E q u i p m e n t xxxa ring, crafted from winter's breath and moonlight, has a permanent place on his right forefinger. It is rather simplistic, a thick banded thing that is neither beautiful nor ugly, just plain.
P r i m a r y xxx when one has a nature has tumultuous as Yeong's, the power over weather is only fitting. Yeong can bend the weather to his will, from spreading the clouds to create a sunny day to brewing intense and dangerous storms. In moments of rage, which only so often rise to the surface, he can set the sky ablaze with lightning, or stir around himself brutal and tearing winds. With his abilities, he is both the calm and the storm.
S e c o n d a r y xxxYeong's indomitable ability is erratic in that, whilst his extremely impressive pain tolerance comes to him quite easily, the strength part of the equation only really surfaces in moments of emotional intensity, particularly anger. It is also quite an exhausting ability to use, and any major uses of this ability tend to result in headaches or tiredness.
E q u i p m e n t xxxa ring, crafted from winter's breath and moonlight, has a permanent place on his right forefinger. It is rather simplistic, a thick banded thing that is neither beautiful nor ugly, just plain.
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
ββββββββββββββββββββββββhe was ready to die, but he did not plan on dying
ββββββββββββββββββββββββhe was ready to die, but he did not plan on dying
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β’β’ h i s t o r y
Ignorance xxxwas easy, initially. Youth tends to be generous in its imposing nature, granting us naivety in return for cynicism later on. Yeong would prove to be an early developer. As a child, he'd always been oddly impressive, a frightening thing to behold, as his eyes clouded grey and the sky followed suit. As a roar passed his lips and thunder responded in kind. As his fingers burned and cracked, and lightning framed him like awe-inspiring art. But he was rebellious. Constantly in question. Eager for a purpose beyond himself.
Horrible xxxmemories always linger longer than pleasant ones, and as he saw her dragged away, a pretty stranger, a girl with a treacherous father, he struggled to forget. It hurt him, angered him, this forced acknowledgement, this bludgeoning reality, the divide between the people had been made clear, and it tore a hole in any idealism he'd once carried.
Privilege xxx did not prevent him from seeing the problems. The cracks in the facade, the crumbling perfection. The gaps between the words, between the people, fae turned puppets for the entertainment of the stronger. The friends of the monarchy, how they loved the king, with all his talk of peace and prosperity, all the whilst ignoring his supporters; the powerful lords' constant engagement with corruption, their manipulations and abuse of the people beneath them. Fae turned consorts out of revenge, pettiness and sadistic malevolence.
Dissatisfaction xxx drove everything as he grew, and as he feigned loyalty, dissent brewed beneath the elaborations on his skin. Likeminded youths whispered in agreement, 'down with the monarchy,' they cheered in silence, not yet ready to be discovered. They planned riots and spread anti-royalist propaganda, these youths, both of noble class tried to spark demur.
One xxxparticular lord was especially abusive. Too powerful to be touched, he wielded his power without apology. He was the one who'd taken the traitor's daughter as recompense. She was young, but she was pretty. They always are, aren't they? these martyrs and their maidens to save. As his abusive tendencies grew, so did his appetite, and the crimes he committed were hidden under a rug of deception. His victims (and there were many) forever tormented by his actions, sometimes chose to end it all. And yet, nothing. No punishment, no retribution. Instant forgiveness, doubt of his crimes, innocent until proven guiltyunless of course the criminal is a peasant. Justice never came, and so they began to plan it themselves.
Betrayal xxxis perhaps the most painful of afflictions, for its existence relies on emotional attachment. He still doesn't know who sold them out, and for what price. He only hopes that they are satisfied, for he still isn't. As he was dragged from his home, his sister, still but a child, screamed and cried,
don't go! don't leave me alone!
Indomitability xxxis not resistant to iron, and so it hurt when they burned him, their own hands protected from the metal by thick cloth. The runes on his skin seemed to recoil at the iron's touch, and his own screams, reminiscent of thunder, filled the interrogation room. who else? who else planned with you? who are the other traitors they had not succeeded, so why the violence? He resisted. Stifled his screams and let them scar him. But then, you know what I do to traitors, don't you? what I do to their families? The lord, smug and sadistic, spoke in a whisper as he bowed his back. Your sister... she's pretty, isn't she?
Truth xxxspilled from his lips, and to save him from martyrdom (and perhaps give him a crueller punishment) he was exiled instead of executed. Thank you, the lord said, for your compliance.
Ignorance xxxwas easy, initially. Youth tends to be generous in its imposing nature, granting us naivety in return for cynicism later on. Yeong would prove to be an early developer. As a child, he'd always been oddly impressive, a frightening thing to behold, as his eyes clouded grey and the sky followed suit. As a roar passed his lips and thunder responded in kind. As his fingers burned and cracked, and lightning framed him like awe-inspiring art. But he was rebellious. Constantly in question. Eager for a purpose beyond himself.
Horrible xxxmemories always linger longer than pleasant ones, and as he saw her dragged away, a pretty stranger, a girl with a treacherous father, he struggled to forget. It hurt him, angered him, this forced acknowledgement, this bludgeoning reality, the divide between the people had been made clear, and it tore a hole in any idealism he'd once carried.
Privilege xxx did not prevent him from seeing the problems. The cracks in the facade, the crumbling perfection. The gaps between the words, between the people, fae turned puppets for the entertainment of the stronger. The friends of the monarchy, how they loved the king, with all his talk of peace and prosperity, all the whilst ignoring his supporters; the powerful lords' constant engagement with corruption, their manipulations and abuse of the people beneath them. Fae turned consorts out of revenge, pettiness and sadistic malevolence.
Dissatisfaction xxx drove everything as he grew, and as he feigned loyalty, dissent brewed beneath the elaborations on his skin. Likeminded youths whispered in agreement, 'down with the monarchy,' they cheered in silence, not yet ready to be discovered. They planned riots and spread anti-royalist propaganda, these youths, both of noble class tried to spark demur.
One xxxparticular lord was especially abusive. Too powerful to be touched, he wielded his power without apology. He was the one who'd taken the traitor's daughter as recompense. She was young, but she was pretty. They always are, aren't they? these martyrs and their maidens to save. As his abusive tendencies grew, so did his appetite, and the crimes he committed were hidden under a rug of deception. His victims (and there were many) forever tormented by his actions, sometimes chose to end it all. And yet, nothing. No punishment, no retribution. Instant forgiveness, doubt of his crimes, innocent until proven guilty
Betrayal xxxis perhaps the most painful of afflictions, for its existence relies on emotional attachment. He still doesn't know who sold them out, and for what price. He only hopes that they are satisfied, for he still isn't. As he was dragged from his home, his sister, still but a child, screamed and cried,
don't go! don't leave me alone!
Indomitability xxxis not resistant to iron, and so it hurt when they burned him, their own hands protected from the metal by thick cloth. The runes on his skin seemed to recoil at the iron's touch, and his own screams, reminiscent of thunder, filled the interrogation room. who else? who else planned with you? who are the other traitors they had not succeeded, so why the violence? He resisted. Stifled his screams and let them scar him. But then, you know what I do to traitors, don't you? what I do to their families? The lord, smug and sadistic, spoke in a whisper as he bowed his back. Your sister... she's pretty, isn't she?
Truth xxxspilled from his lips, and to save him from martyrdom (and perhaps give him a crueller punishment) he was exiled instead of executed. Thank you, the lord said, for your compliance.
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βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββthe world, a tired performer, offers us another half-assed season
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββthe world, a tired performer, offers us another half-assed season
c h a r a c t e rxxs h e e txbyxxxlayla
f a c e c l a i mxxxShon Minho
p l a y e dxxb yxxxrubytuesday
f a c e c l a i mxxxShon Minho
p l a y e dxxb yxxxrubytuesday
