Phrase: 022. He looked so fair
Character: Aurelius

"Your grand-daughter really doesn't look like her mother, does she? She's still beautiful, but aren't you-"

Rosiel interuppted the woman calmly. "Obiel was not taken advantage of. Aurelius is a special girl." He missed his grandchild's mocking smirk; her face happened to be turned away from the table at the moment. Grandfather still thinks of me as a child. What are the chances, then... She shook the thoughts out of her head and brushed a tendril of her hair back into place. "That's not what this dinner is for, sirs and madams," the eldest Venport said, "I have come to broach the idea of succession. As you all know, I am an old man-" this elicited a round of chuckles from the Board of Directors. Rosiel was barely sixty. "-and I do not desire this corporation to be lead by a group. All respects." Several of the directors looked offended.

"Why is your grand-daughter here, then," asked the same woman who had brought up Aurelius's mother. "This is Venport business."

"This involves her." Aurelius hid her smile behind the curtain of her hair as she stirred caesar dressing into her salad. "Since you're going to have to choose between her and my son, Raziel."

Now one of the younger directors slammed his hands on either side of his prime rib. "I'm out of here. Neither of them has any experience in running a company. One of them- one of them- is eight! And... the other! The other is- This is ridiculous." Most of the directors were stunned; Rosiel only looked saddened. He didn't expect all of them to agree, apparently. Well, Aurelius did. She watched him go, straightening slowly.

"I'll be right back, Grandfather," she said softly, smoothing her black coat and following the man. He went into the bathroom to the left of the grand doors to the outside; she waited a minute before jimmying the lock. For a moment, she waited, a heel pressed against the door in case he tried to get out. Directors from the dinner left the room at a slow trickle, heading upstairs, which meant they were going to discuss.

Now would be the opportunate time. Unnoticed- hopefully so, at any rate- she slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. He looked at her from where he stood at the bathroom sink. "Going to seduce me, slut?" One eyebrow tilted a little upwards. "You're proving my point right," he said, a little unnerved when she stood there silently, a tiny smile on her face. Thank heaven for her gift from Ero. He couldn't see the murderous intent in the metal eyes. "Say something." The water still ran into the basin of the sink. That would be good for dramatic impact.

She sashayed over to him, her height allowing her to put one hand on the side of his face. Aure ran her knuckles gently along his cheekbone. "You have such a pretty face. Take a good look at it." Her smile became predatory. His face went slack with fear. "This is the last time you'll see it. Or anything." As he opened his mouth- to scream? She didn't know- she slammed his face into the mirror. Once, twice, three times- with greater savagery than she thought she had. Then, she held his head as his twitching and gurgling slowed until it stopped. Carefully, she left him go. His head dropped into the basin, and the water began to turn pink. He looked so fair, face-down like that, staining the area around his face red. It had probably helped that one of the longer glass shards had pierced his eye.

Carefully, she pulled off the coat and peeked out through the door. No one about, not even a servant. That was good. Still, she was sure to walk slowly and normally back to her room. If she did this right, it might be a day before anyone found that arrogant director.

Once she was back in her room, she lit the fireplace with her coat for tinder. The burning blood and leather smelled horrible, but it was the best way to dispose of this evidence without creating more. She made sure every scrap went up, then cleaned out the still-warm ashes and emptied them out the window. They scattered across the gardens. Quickly, she used her abilities to make the fireplace look as spotless as it had before- at the same time, she used those powers to clean her skin of the blood.

An untracable crime. She smiled. For the first time, she thought this "unattainable" goal of purifying the world was possible.

Phrase: 023. I'd have to get used to calling her my wife
Character: blah
Notes: Continuation of my HSPA writing exercise.

The bowl of cold oatmeal shattered on the floor as he left.

Immediately, she began to regret not bashing that arrogant bastard's skull in with the bowl when she had a chance. If she had been a little bit stronger, the spoon between her fingers would have been crushed. But she wasn't, and so all she could do what throw it to the floor and watch it bounce neatly into the trash. She would change the locks. She would change the number on the house. She would move. But like hell would she ever see the lying, cheating face of that man ever again. Who did he think he was, anyway?

She threw her bowl of Cheerios on the floor, too, sat on the floor and cried.

Phrase: 024. The young will never be wise
Character:

What a shame. Machina adjusts the mask over her face and picks at the sleeve that covers the adamantine arm. Such a poor child. Of course the young will never be wise. Just words, mindless meaningless consolations for someone they thinks actually cares.

What a shame. She doesn't care. He'll always be remembered. Such a shame, to die so young. Serial handshakes and red eyes, she can't even identify the separate faces anymore, but is it necessary? They're just humans. They're just fodder for her will.

One sentence stands out: So this is what megalomania looks like? Father's dead and you don't care. How sad, Sardonyx, how sad.

So she says: My name is Machina now.

And he says to her: You even take your name from an expression. God in the machine? Don't make me laugh.

Then he leaves.

Phrase: 025. Here, have this
Characters: Dusk, Matsuo, Misericorde
Notes: This is also Exercise #1 of 3AM Epiphany

This is a ritual of some kind. It’s nothing new, not really; Matsuo is washing his hands in the sink after finishing a chocolate cake for a customer. He is dead to the world during this time, when he holds his hands under water so hot that his skin is turning a scalded pink and runs his nails through the scrub brush that he uses to get burned residue off the pans. This must be what he does when he thinks no one is watching, because his hands always look a little reddened and raw.

It’s strange. Someone else has joined him at the sink, a blonde woman who is wearing strange clothes. Matsuo wears red, all the time, even though he should wear blue for contrast with his hair. His hair is a bright copper, like a river of molten metal that flows down his back to his waist. They’re talking, but so softly no one can hear them. She turns on the cold water, and Matsuo flinches away from the freezing deluge. But that smile doesn’t leave his face. Instead of yelling as others would, he picks up one of the fluffy white towels and begins to wipe his hands dry, one finger at a time. He splays his fingers and dries between them. His skin is such a bright red. If only this woman had shown up sooner. Poor Matsuo.

Who is she? She repeats his ritual, and her skin turns a pale greenish-blue hue that there is no word for. Hypothermia, she says, and she laughs with him. Better than heat exhaustion, he tells her, and puts one of those boiled hands on her shoulder. Just like Matsuo, she runs the towel between each of her fingers, but then she runs her hands against her black pants. It’s a change, tiny, but significant. She puts her arm around his waist and they walk to the doors.

“We’ll be back,� Matsuo says. “Watch the till.�

Perhaps she’s his sister. An aunt. Such strange clothes, she can’t be from around here. Of course many strange things happen around here. She looked so fearsome, even when she smiled, that something quailed from interrupting them. From asking to go along. But here, she is whoever. Enigmas are good for that.

Without the running water, it is oppressively quiet.

Maybe she was his lover once. She is strong and frightening, and Matsuo is so unassuming. It's definitely a possibility.

I imagine her past- perhaps abandoned at birth, left to fend for herself or raised among wolves. She had a vicious curve to her mouth, like a wolf. She could be a monster, entrapped in the skin of a human and waiting for the one victim to trust her completely so she could bathe herself in his blood and resume her nightmarish form. But Matsuo could defend himself with the brightly glowing blade he kept with him at all times. Poor Matsuo. He ought to open his eyes every once in a while.

She was confident. It showed in every line of that taut, fit body, the way she seemed to lead herself with one hand raised in the air and how her torso always listed to the left. A perfect body, really, with long legs and slender arms. The way she walked in stood out especially- pausing in the doorway, looking over the cafe Matsuo has had since forever. Her lips had that wolfish sneer, but when she saw Matsuo, it turned to the most beautiful smile. Her teeth were straight and white.

Her eyes were masked by a black cap with a stiff, shiny brim. Even though her flat stomach was exposed, she didn't seem affected by the cold outside, and that might have been the leather coat with a fur hood attached. It was new, stiff leather, evident by the way her arms couldn't quite lift above her head as she waved to the shop at large.

Soft conversation takes the place of the water. The look of confusion on my face must have been amusing, because Matsuo is smiling his warmest smile and the woman is grinning.

Perhaps she's not a wolf. She's not any kind of animal at all.

"Misericorde," she says, sticking her thumbs in the back pockets of her tight pants. "My name." Just like Matsuo, she is not very talkative. Perhaps she was-

"Stop that," she says. Amusement. Silence falls over the shop, and Matsuo begins to make a new cake. Strawberry, his favorite flavor. For the guest.

Phrase: 026. Waiting at the airport
Character: Vanille Disrael, Jezebel
Notes: Vanille is Jezebel's father, not a creepy pedo stalker, thanks. : D

Waiting at the airport, he saw her standing a group of white-clad women. Her hands were bandaged and he couldn't help but think he could have done it better, so she would still be able to use her hands- which, he imagined, were pianist's hands like his. But he'd not seen them close up since the day she was born, and perhaps once at a court procedure when Emmeline was telling the judge why he shouldn't be allowed to go near his own child.

His poor child. Vanille wanted so badly to run to her and hold her close. It was torture of the most basic kind, he thought bitterly, to deny a man all access to his child. To the flesh of his flesh, and blood of his blood; Vanille couldn't even imagine anything worse. Then she looked over to him, and he averted his gaze and hoped she hadn't recognized him.

"Daddy," she said, and her voice carried all the way across the busy airport. "Daddy, I love you." The white-clad women looked at him, and, perhaps recognizing him, hustled her away.

Poor Vanille, he thought angrily. Poor Vanille.

Phrase: 027. I saw some money on the ground
Character: Lamia
Notes: ...I love Lamia longtiem.

I saw some money on the ground, but I didn't pick it up.

Those of you who know me might ask why I'm not speaking old English. Well, I only do that for the effect, really. I can talk however I like; I'm a named demon, after all. Lamia would normally be a species but it's not, simply because I ate all the others. So anyway, I saw the money but I didn't touch it, because hey, I get to play around in a human form. Soon I'll get the human's eyes who summoned me, and then she can be tormented by the faces of my stolen children and I, I can resume a life where I'm not tortured every day. Ha. Stupid girl thinks I actually care; well, no. I despise her. She's good, as summoners go, but I'd sooner not be summoned. Like, ever.

Except when Shaitan or Belial is on a power trip and insists on coming to Gehenna to bitch at me. Honestly. I don't do much other than eat the flesh of children. That's my job, after all, as a descendant of Lilith.

That retarded Jiran thinks that I'm so mighty. Well, I am. Really. I'm third-rank, after all, and sure that's not second or first rank, but who wants to be a fuckin' reject from Heaven? Ha. I was here long before they were. i bet if he knew I knew that he intended to summon my little cousin Lilitu he'd shit himself. Ha! If he thinks that would buy him mercy, I've got a nice little surprise for him. Involving my claws and a judicious use of venom.

Phrase: 028. She taught me how to whistle
Character: Sirius

I imagine one day they'll write an epic about me. Of course, it will be in the guest book at my funeral, on that little line for memories of the deceased? I wonder if Liz will write He taught me how to whistle or He helped heal my wings when I thought I'd never fly again. And that wasn't an easy thing to do, it was so hard to look at those tattered things and not just ask Uncle Jack to cut them off. But I could never do that to Liz.

Perhaps Yceri will write that I was a good husband. I know I don't spend all the time with her that I should, but being a scholar-prince of an entire territory is time-consuming. And as for my sons, I don't know what they'll write. Perhaps He was the greatest commodore to ever sail the Phantom Sea. The Phantom Sea being the pond in the backyard...

I am so morbid. Perhaps I'll shut the hell up now.

Phrase: 029. The radio blared
Character: Hae-Min

The youngest daughter had a lot to learn about standing up for herself. And she'd learned it all, as quickly as she could, because after her was a boy, and she took care of him. A mere two years separated them, much less than the gaps between their older siblings, so it was rather inevitable that Tae-yul and Hae-min would become best friends.

So why was she sitting here alone, with the radio blaring foreign songs, wondering if Tae-yul would come home for his birthday like he always did. Well, of course, this year he was angry. She'd gone out with his business partner, to an opera and a dinner with a literature group. But that was a woman's right, to date as she pleased. To tell the truth, she was rather irritated with her younger brother trying to micromanage her life, but she didn't dare tell him so.

He'd tried to strangle poor Edward on hearing that they'd gone to an opera. Imagine what he might try to do to Edward if he knew they'd... Well, that was a private thing and she oughtn't think of it where prying demons might overhear. Berith was nearby, he always was, but still she didn't much relish the thought of Tae-yul's demon overhearing her thoughts. Bad enough to deal with him angry over her doing something without his permission; worse to deal with it when Sofiel in all her foreign glory bent over her shoulder and stared at her.

Hae-min sighed and plucked another pickled radish from the bowl on the table. To a Korean native, chopsticks were second nature. It'd been amusing to watch a group of foreigners struggle with the implements at dinner last Thursday, but she hadn't laughed because Edward was one of them. And... she had relished the opportunity to teach him something, instead of the other way around.

Foreigners were interesting, she thought, as she delicately nibbled on the small ball of kimchii. Hae-min didn't quite understand why Tae hated them so.

Phrase: 030. I pricked myself on a thistle
Character: Hae-min

She was weeding the garden when it sliced the soft flesh of her forefinger. Even then, it didn't faze her until Tae-yul walked into the courtyard and announced, "Damn you, woman, you're bleeding all over your hanbok!"

Hae-min considered crying. It'd make that reddish tint to his face go away. "I pricked myself on a thistle," she said, by way of explanation. She sucked on her finger, tasted the reassuring iron of blood on her tongue.

"Damn you," Tae-yul repeated. "There's a reason we have servants to do this." He roughly pulled her to her feet and marched her to his room, pushed her onto the open futon that was covered with his notes and Grandfather's books, and stomped off. The black ink that had rested precariously on a mound of down coverlet spilled; she picked it up before it reached one of the priceless copies of the Secret Book of Tuesdays, but several pages of Tae-yul's notes were inky and stained now. Only too wary of the staining effect of ink, she held her blackened hand well away from her white hanbok. Blood washed out, with enough cold water. Ink stayed forever.

When her little brother stomped in and spotted the ink, he promptly began to curse once more and made his way out, even as the healer and two servants began to bandage the bloody scratch and wash the ink off her hand.

She really wished Tae-yul would go back to that horrid shop again. Just so she could get some honest work done.

Phrase: 031. The tapestry was unfinished
Character: Hae-min, Tae-yul, Edward

"It's unfinished," she said, only too aware of the tension between her brother and her paramour. Oh, if only she loved Edward less, or Tae-yul more; either way, she was at fault here. "But I think it will still be well."

"Of course it will," Edward said, "I have every confidence in your ability with a loom." And he did. He gently patted on her on the shoulder, then winced when Tae-yul attempted to karate-chop his arm off at the elbow. Her brother wasn't very tall, but Hae-min's own lack of height made it possible for him to reach his partner's elbow.

He seethed blackly when Edward pulled his arm out of striking range. "My sister," Tae-yul muttered. "Don't touch her, you- you..." His face turned a remarkable shade of red when Edward touched the tip of one finger to her shoulder, and he leapt at Edward and attempted to strangle him.

"Oh," she sighed. "Brother, please don't do that." Secretly, though, she was pleased. Every girl's ego was stroked by men fighting over her, even if one was her brother and intended to leave her a virgin princess all her days. (Well, a princess anyway. The former was kind of not an option anymore.)

Phrase: 032. I never liked needlework
Characters: Mhin girls

"I never liked needlework," Seung muttered. While the men talked in the other room, she and her sisters embroidered the sleeves of fine hanboks. The eldest Mhin daughter was pregnant with her second child, which her husband Chun-Dak hoped would be another son. Secretly, Seung hoped for a girl.

Iseul-ji sighed. "Don't complain, Seung. We could be washing dishes." There was a poignant pause. Recently Iseul-ji had taken up a vow of charity, and this had involved helping in a local free dining place for the poor. She had had too much of washing dishes and had been put in the front, since she really was gorgeous in that classic Sino-Korean way. Her hair was long, straight, silky and glossy, just like Hae-min's and Tae-yul's; the other children had gotten their father's hair, a little coarse with a bit of a wave. But their hair suited them too. And the wide blue eyes were really too much.

Son-Hee frowned impressively. She liked housework, but not gardenwork, which was Hae-min's. "I think it's nice. Building a pattern. It's not barbaric like some hobbies." (Kyung-Jin had snuck off somewhere. She was kind of a disgrace anyway, seeing as she was a female career soldier. Only Hae-min missed her much. Well, maybe Seong-Mina, who had gotten married off before she could take the same route.)

"If you mean my summoning, you know it's bad not to use your talent," Hae-min said hotly. "It's not like you don't ask Berith and me for favors all the time, anyway."

"Berith," Son-Hee said. "Such a foreign name."

The youngest daughter stewed quietly over her needlework until it was time for bed. Then she set Berith to nailing her sister's doors shut.

Phrase: 033. The colors were rich
Character:

The jacket's embroidery was bright and saturated; royal gold and sky blue and crimson, bloody red. She made it for Tae-yul, but he had left before she could give it to him, so she wore it now. Even though it was his and she knew he hated it when his clothes were worn by someone else, she did it anyway. It was a cold night and she could always make a new one.

Although, it had taken such a long time... Hae-min pulled the jacket tighter around herself. She missed her brother, wished he would come home, and if the only way to be close to him was to wear his clothes, well, then she would.

Phrase: 034. You have chocolate on your chin
Character: Aurelius, Xavier

"You have chocolate on your chin," Xavier said, and he reached across the table to wipe it off. Friends, that's really all they were, but she had his ring on her finger and the same went for him. Just a defensive measure- no one would question her using her own funds to help restore her husband's ship, and no one would expect her to date and think her unnatural when she didn't. They might wonder why she did it so soon after their wedding, but she could explain it as a wedding gift.

Because for sure, the only proof of this marriage would be the rings and the photographs of a chilly woman in a bridal gown next to a clean-cut military man. And her memories... She looked up at him and smiled pleasantly. He smiled back.

Phrase: 035. The water was tepid
Character: Xavier

Men died for lack of proper care, but he wouldn't be one of them. Xavier Lauderdale, all of nineteen years old and already in a battle situation, gulped a cup of tepid, salty water and looked back to his screen. It wasn't top of the line holograms, but what did you expect on one of the old seafaring vessels? Ampoliros was considered a bum job by most, but he'd requested this when they'd announced the old cruisers up in the stars were being decommissioned. Being up in the sky irritated him; he couldn't look out at the stars because he was so dreadfully phobic of the vacuum finally sucking out the windows and him with it, to freeze before he ever got within fifty light-years of home.

It was weird that he didn't even really remember home. He'd been fighting this same battle on the dark side of a strange planet for what seemed like months, just telling the ship's outdated processors where to go to avoid the shelling from the opponent. A metallic crump every once in a while let him know that they were making progress.

Some.

Phrase: 036. I couldn't find my notebook
Character: Jezebel
Note: Copied from her journal on Gaiaonline.

the message

Totally pointless to tell those of you who don't know me and don't want to, I'm horrible at remembering appointments. No, really. At my level, there's really no point in saying that I'm just horrible at remembering that I have to be somewhere at such and such a time. It's better to just aggressively let everyone know I am really, really, really without equal in the realm of forgetting what time it is and that I have to be somewhere at a certain time.

But, you say, how do you get along in life? Aren't you late all the time?

Oh... well... duh.

But that's not the point of me keeping this log. What is the point? That something of what I'm about to attempt may go wrong, and if I do, I fully intend to honor my contract with Mr. Fauste. I will give this diary to him in lieu of allowing him to observe me any farther.

To tell you the truth, I don't give a damn about Mr. Fauste, or his compatriot Mhin.

What I care about is revenge.

Revenge for everything that anyone's ever done to hurt me, and believe me, there's been a lot.

Mother, for belittling me and blaming everything wrong with me on Dad when there's nothing wrong with me.

Mr. Fugue, for attempting to tell me that I will never be anything more than what I am; for David and Daniel, for stealing my books, for telling me I look like an old granny; for anyone who's ever hurt me or ever planned to hurt me or ever will hurt me.

That's all I care about.

Oh. I almost forgot.

In the event that anyone, besides Mssrs. Fauste and Mhin read this tome, I should at least introduce myself.

I'm the world's most pathetic student, the girl who will die like a dog. I used to say my name was Jess, and sometimes people called me that, but it's not the name that will go on my tombstone- an artifact that will hopefully appear soon.

My name is Jezebel Wicoreszek-Disrael.

Good night, and good nightmares.

Phrase: 037. He chanted under his breath
Character: Lizzy, Banshee, Edward

She found him sitting on a park bench, chanting under his breath. A strange lady with black skin sat next to him and murmured softly.

"A child," said the lady hoarsely. Elizabeth stared at her in confusion, then straightened her flannel shirt- a hand me down from one of her brothers. She had dresses, but she wasn't supposed to wear them out to play. The man looked up, a question in his stormy eyes, and timidly she smiled at him.

"Where is your mother, little one?" He didn't have an unpleasant voice. It reminded her of honey-covered peanuts, or maybe chocolate pretzels. Sweet, but with that little bit of crunchy saltiness inside. That said, she liked it, so she hopped up on a bench beside him. "If you're lost, I shall help you," he said gravely.

"I'm not lost," she said, and canted her head off a bit when she saw that he looked astonished. "What? What'd I say, mister?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I have surely spent too long among horrors, to imagine a babe speaking so."

"I'm not a babe, that's girls with big boobs," Lizzy said severely.

"It is a very old way to say 'child'," he said. "What is your name, child?"

She pursed her lips. "Not supposed to tell strangers," she informed him doubtfully. "What's your name?"

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes. "I am called Edward." He tucked the beads in his hand into a pocket in his black vest; she reached over and touched a fastening on it as he did, and when he made to slap her hand away she pulled it back.

"Well, I- I am called Elizabeth. But you can call me Lizzy." She nodded firmly. "Who's the lady?"

"I am called Banshee," said Banshee, and with that out of the way, she drifted away. The child watched her go with wide eyes, then turned to Edward.

"What were you doing?"

He frowned, and didn't seem much inclined to answer. Truth, he'd been intending to try a communication spell with the proverbial 'other side'. Martel had been dead for almost nine years but that didn't make the fear that whatever happened to her would get him too. So he'd intended to ask her about how she'd tried to summon Legion... The entire room she had done the ritual in had been blown to pieces in the backlash, resulting in a few scars for him and an unknown quantity for Tae-yul. But he remembered that there were scars on both of them... "Talking," he said vaguely.

"Oh," she said, disappointed. "Hey, is Banshee a demon?"

Edward started. "How would you know," he snapped. Then he covered his mouth with one hand; he'd been harsher than he'd meant to. But Elizabeth didn't look hurt. Quite the opposite, now she was curious.

"I saw someone like her once." She could go 'places', places even her aunt couldn't get to, and her aunt got to everywhere eventually. And she didn't know how she did it.

"Ah, well..." He got up hurriedly. "I had best be going. Have a good evening, Miss Elizabeth."

"Bye, Edward," she said, puzzled.

Phrase: 038 She always said that
Character: Hae-min
Soundtrack: Leaving on Red Hill- Yoko Kanno
The Last Man- Clint Mansell
Notes: Same Hae-min as before, of course, only now in a real-worldish setting. 'kay? : )

It rained on the day that she left for America. An antique car of some sort she couldn't remember waited at the end of the long gravel driveway; Hae-min was glad for the waxed parasol she held loosely in one hand as she stood in the doorway of the house she almost never left. "I love you, Eomeoni," she said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss her mother's cheek. Of course her mama wasn't crying, because she never cried. It was just the mist of the rain on Eomeoni's cheek.

"It'll be all right," Eomeoni said. "This is the way it should be, Hae-min. Go and do us proud in everything you undertake." The youngest daughter opened her parasol and walked down the driveway. Halfway to the car, she paused and turned her face to her mother.

"Eomeoni," she said. Of course Eomeoni would know what she said. Instead of the reassurance she'd hoped for, her mother turned away and walked inside. The bright red door shut behind the bodyguard who followed Hae-min's mother inside. "She always says that..."

She walked slowly to the end of the driveway and got in the car that would take her away from everything she'd ever known.

Phrase: 039 They've forgotten too
Character: Hae-min
Soundtrack: Vengance is Mine- Epica
Riviera- Amber Asylum
Romance- Apocalyptica
Notes: I think Hae-min from here on out won't be Daemonverse Hae-min. XD; ^ ^;

When she first set foot in the garden at her new home, Hae-min felt crushing despair. Who could possibly allow such a space, full of potential, to fall to this state of disrepair? A horrible dread filled her at the thought of her gardens at home. Would they look like this? Or worse? After she'd spent so much time working on them, too. She buried her face in her hands and took several deep breaths. Then she looked back at the garden, rolled up the sleeves of her sensible forest green cotton jeogori, and knelt among the plants.

All of them would have to come up-- All of them! Even the perennials- and right off the bat, she could see a handful of gorgeous flowers she'd normally be estastic to see in a garden. Roses of Sharon all along the back wall and she could leave those, since they could be retaught how to grow easily. Irises in front of that, and she'd have to uproot them at the least. They overshadowed the tea roses before them, and half of those were dead anyway.

Who was the head gardener here? Oh, he was so fired. Hae-min grabbed a handful of weeds and yanked. They came up easily- of course they did. Her fingers had slipped right into the gaps of the roots. She found this easy, after years of practice. Soon, she had a large pile of violets and onion weed piled directly to her left, and little iris-spurs to her right with careful root balls attached.

"They all forget beautiful garden," she muttered darkly to herself, "in favor of unattractive flower!"

A thought came to her, and she paused to mull it over. Isn't that what her family had done? She was too shy and reclusive. Too stubborn when out with normal people. They've forgotten, too.

Phrase: 040 Go to sleep now
Character: Ickle!Hae-min, Ickle!Tae-yul
Soundtrack: A Storm is Coming- Howard Shore
The Storm- Savatage
Adagio- Secret Garden
Vivaldi's Winter- Dark Moor

The wedding party seemed to go on forever. Dinner had been fun, but now a seven-year-old Hae-min wanted to go to sleep. Tae-yul, barely five, looked ready to drop dead on his feet. Were they supposed to stand like this until the adults were done playing, his eyes said. The message was obvious in the rebellious slant of his eyebrows and his hunched shoulders. She yawned, but tried to hide it behind the trailing sleeve of her pale pink jeogori. A moment later, her baby brother followed her lead, but didn't bother to try to cover it up. He didn't care who saw how bored he was with Seung's wedding.

How far away is sleep now, she wondered foggily. From her vantage point along the wall with all the mirrors, she could see the servants wrapping food in blue cellophane. The Mhin family was so archaic that they would allow the leftovers to be taken home by the staff. And that was sad, she thought, since she really had liked the kimchii served early in the meal. And the baked bream had been delicious-

She caught herself when her head drooped to the wall. Then someone else caught her- big brother Gin-Hul. At sixteen, he was eleven whole years older. Between them were four sisters, and the closest one of them was four years older than Hae-min. "Oppa," she said, stretching her arms up. "I'm sleepy." He pulled off his jeogori- much bigger and a bright red for vitality- and draped it over her shoulders. Tae-yul was bundled into a chinese uncle's arms, and she curled into her oppa's chest.

"Go to sleep now," he said. His voice was a pleasant rumble against the crook of her elbow. So she went to sleep, and didn't wake up until noon the next day.

Phrase: 041 A lonely death
Character: Hae-min
Soundtrack: The Burden is Mine- Green Carnation
Hope- Apocalyptica

She liked to sit with her dongsaeng and listen to lusty American men sing loudly for her abeoji. This one had a pretty voice- better than Gin-Hul's, anyway, and his was the only reference of a voice she had to go by. His name was Anthony, which she thought was a funny name. Abeoji said that it was okay for fifteen-year-old girls to think that American names were funny, but that by the time she was twenty, she should be used to them. Especially since, with the way the global economy was going, she might end up married to one of their oil magnates. That was one of the reasons why every child of this generation of the Mhin family was supposed to learn a foreign language- and the last two were learning at least three. Already Hae-min spoke fluent Japanese, Vietnamese and Chinese to go with her mother Korean. Tae-yul had control of French, English and Spanish. Gin-hul liked to joke that between the youngest two Mhins, world conquest- or at least circumnavigation- was entirely within reach and completely possible.

Hae-min did not think this was funny.

She felt bad for the American man. Their families were shattered into little bits, with divorce and unhappiness abounding. All Americans would die a lonely death, while she would be surrounded by family forever. It seemed... just a little unfair.

Phrase: 042 That's a nice umbrella
Character: lalala-- oh, characters? >__>
Soundtrack: Orbitals- Acroma
Lamp Halo- Zeromancer
Buddha for Mary- 30 Seconds to Mars

She meets him on a rainy, sunless day. "Hello," she says.

"It's nice to see you again."

Awkward silence. He could probably cut it with that knife in his hand. She takes a tiny step back.

"I no see you in very long time."

He says it idly, without a hint of inflection: "I haven't missed you."

It hurts.

"I miss you, it very quiet without you."

"As I recall, you liked quiet."

She frowns and looks to her tiny, slipper-clad feet. Didn't he feel anything for her? He probably never has, she realizes, and then she looks up to him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"I am very sorry," she cries. "Please forgive for what I do, whatever I do!"

"You didn't do anything." He says it more gently than she thinks he meant to.

The rain falls harder, and lightning rolls. "Why?"

"Don't trouble yourself." He walks past her, leaves her standing in the rain.

She stands there for a long time.

Phrase: 043. The rain poured down for days
Character: Hae-min
Soundtrack: Damaged- Plumb
Beg- Evans Blue
In A Red Dress And Alone- Evans Blue
Jenny- The Killers

She sat in the window, wrapped in a blanket of muted colors with a small cup of black tea in her hand. The rain misted back into her face, but she didn't really mind, since it was otherwise a warm day. Today was the sixth anniversary of the first time she had used the handgun that lay disassembled on her dresser.

It hadn't been her fault. Tae-yul had looked so young, so small, and the man on top of him so frightful, like a demon from the fairy tales... She hadn't even thought about it. One sec, Tae-yul was screaming, and the next, samchon was screaming and there was blood everywhere. The blood was secondary to her little brother, though. When the sun came up the next morning and samchon was dead, she had bruises from where her dongsaeng had clung to her, and a neat crescent moon gash that matched her brother's teeth perfectly. She couldn't remember him biting her, but knew it must have happened. Probably to stop himself from screaming any more?... As a matter of fact, it had scarred...

Hae-min didn't look at the scar, though. Her skin crawled and her stomach rebelled at just the thought. With a kind of desperation she normally didn't display, she wrenched her thoughts away from both horrible subjects.

Tae-yul was fine. She was fine. That horrible man was dead.

The rain had poured down for days.

Phrase: 056. It's all too much
Character:
Soundtrack: Just Today- EClaire
16121- Sefiros
Letters from Silent Heaven- Yamaoka Akira

Moriah threw open the door and opened her mouth to begin her tirade, but the words died incomplete on her lips. "...Aunt Hae-min?" She didn't see the laughing bitch-queen she'd imagined. Instead, what confronted her was a sickly-looking woman not much older than herself, paused in the act of pulling on her jeogori. Her hair hung thick and loose, just like Moriah's, and if Moriah hadn't stood several centimeters taller she might have confused herself for her aunt.

"Hello," said her aunt breathily, the words lost inside a thick Korean accent. She smiled nervously. "You my niece. Haneul-yoon."

"No, that's my middle name. It's Moriah," she snapped. "Haneul-yoon's my middle name and it's damn embarrassing. And for that matter, it's damn embarrassing to have an aunt who looks just like me, so you need to change something." Not at all how she'd wanted this meeting to go, but seeing the woman who looked like her very own face in the mirror...

Hae-min shook her head. "No, your eye different color. Your hair not so thick, nor so long-" She recoiled after Moriah slapped her, slowly raised one hand to her burning cheek. "I not mean to offend."

She couldn't take it any longer, staring at those innocent, dewy eyes so full of reproach. Moriah fled, leaving the woman who made her feel so much like a watery, weak reflection.

Phrase: 065. The paint was peeling
Character: Rose, Sade
Soundtrack: Nursery Cryme- Yamaoka Akira

Rose looked at his customer, awkwardness clear in his face. How many times did you get confronted with a cross-dressing man looking for ice cream? How many times did you see a guy who looked so good in a dress? Seriously. Was it just his luck?

"Excuse me," he said in a strangled voice. "What did you say you wanted again?" The striking eyes hooded themselves and the muscles in his jaw tightened. He could see a muscle tic, and marveled at how this otherwise perfect (god, even his curly, golden hair was natural) cross-dresser couldn't realize how masculine a trait that was.

"Cookie dough ice cream." Such a cold tone in that androgynous voice! Rose actually shivered. "Is that a problem?"

With a mute shake of his head, he started filling the order. It wasn't his business as long as the man paid. It really wasn't. But still, he couldn't help sneaking glances at the man. The guy didn't look an hour over sixteen, like he had even hit puberty yet. That probably helped him pull off the charade. "That'll be three dollars and fifteen cents," he said. The man handed him a five, and took his ice cream. He didn't wait for change, just glided- yes, glided, and Rose had thought that only girls could do that- back to a pair of identical twins, linked arms with one of them, and then all three left.

"That's really weird," he muttered to himself.

Phrase: 099. She stared defiantly and 081. In so many words
Character: Hae-min, Edward
Soundtrack: Magdelena- Yamaoka Akira
Theme of Laura (reprise)- Yamaoka Akira
Laura Plays the Piano- Yamaoka Akira
Notes: A return to the Daemon-verse. We'll get back to Realverse Min in a minute. I didn't know whether to post this, but I think I did well, so I did post it.

After her brother left, Hae-min turned to the other man and just looked at him. He stared back, a worried look in his eyes. "You're so small," he said, in tones of regret. "I wish you had not decided to accommodate your brother's whim. There are other ways for this to be." Edward sighed, knowing that once the agreement was made neither Mhin scion could back down. Their overdone honor wouldn't allow it, and neither would Hae-min's pride give enough to realize that she could very well be hurt during some part of the process. "You love your brother, I am aware of it, Hae-min. You needn't risk yourself in order to please him, though."

Her gaze turned defiant. "I didn't decide to do this for him," she snapped, her Korean accent thickening in her confusion. "I do it for you. Because you wouldn't be happy if your child was born from those other methods." It amazed Edward how like Tae-yul the quiet girl could be when she felt insulted. It also astounded him that she knew him so well. No, he wouldn't have been happy to take the safer, yet more artificial methods. This way, though... He had hoped that Tae-yul would pick a surrogate mother much farther removed from the two of them, especially since the child would not be a Mhin but a Fauste.

"You comprehend... that your father may be quite irate?" She nodded, even though her lips pursed in as much fear as she'd let herself show. Perhaps she had anticipated a longer argument, time to prepare herself mentally for what she'd agreed to do. God, Edward thought. If he were straight, this would be the only woman he would ever want to be with. That would make this next a lot easier, he hoped as he stepped closer to her. "I worry about you," he said, slouching a little so his eyes were on a level with hers.

"I would do this at some point regardless. Perhaps not with you, but with someone," she challenged. Unspoken were the words, I might not even care about him like I do you. Both of them knew the reality of the situation for a princess, even the youngest princess, of the Mhin household. It was even more tenuous than his own position, and her parents would be looking to stabilize it with some marriage to a foreign house. Hae-min would never even have a choice in it. He sighed through his nose, nervous and unsure. If Hae-min were hurt by this favor between two friends, he would- perhaps he wouldn't die. But he would hate himself, and perhaps Tae-yul.

She saw him turning inward, and leaned forward to brush her lips across his, gently. "Are you afraid?" Surprised, he reached out to run his knuckles along the curve of her face.

"Are you?"