Personal Message
im jinah
t. staff
wand
simon
x 1
cauldron
Ingredients
shazam box
stickers
gift box
gifts
mailbox
messages
storage
purchases
Description
im jinah
dark in nature, twisted at best
LUNAR WITCH
and into the darkness I go...
to lose my mind, and find my soul
and into the darkness I go...
to lose my mind, and find my soul
background
a child of the night
Born at 12AM on the night of the blood moon, Jinah was meant to be a child of the night. Her parent's were both Wizards, teaching her to love the cold embrace of the midnight more than that of their own. Thus, she did. Her relationship with her family was nothing compared to that of the moon. She felt most comfortable sleeping throughout the day rather than at night, and ended up dropping from school due to this. Her parents passed away two years after she lost her brother in a fire. Twenty years old and having nobody- Jinah turned to the moon. She began to study everything she could on Lunar Magic, determined to love the night sky just as much as it loved her. At least the moon couldn't leave.
Jinah is a confident person who has a great sense for evil deeds. She cannot explain how, but whenever a person near her is planning to do evil, is lying, or is hiding from the truth... she knows. She has a strong heart, and an even stronger personality. When the darkness sets in- her being flourishes. She becomes a goddess of the night, embracing everything about herself and the world only between dusk and dawn. As long as you don't break her heart- she won't break you. Her powers are strongest in the dark, or in the hours of the moon being risen.
01
December
"I feel proud"
Panual
◉
24 Yr's Old
◌
GMT-8
●
Shopkeep (Shaman's Smudge)
○
Hedwig's Theme
Not Yet...
+
Writing Sample ⌘
" There was a strange wailing sound coming from the next room. It was cold in this room, a strange breeze flowing in from nowhere. There were no windows, air shafts, or any source of ventilation. All that existed in the space was a table, and two chairs. One on each horizontal plane around the table. The table was metal, and attached to it were silver handcuffs, those for the most dangerous of prisoners. They were currently being used. The door finally swung open, creaking on its rusty hinges as another person finally entered the too white room. A stocky man wearing a hilariously out of place suit stepped inside the small room. His eyes meet the others. Black to brown. Fear and nerves against blank and emotionless. Hoseok kept his handcuffed hands together on the table, a polite half smile decorating his charming face. The male was dressed in all orange, something he thought was only a stereotype used in cliché movie scenes and awkward television shows. Naturally he wasn't exactly thrilled to find out it was true. Orange completely contrasts his skin and does disgusting things when compared to his hair. This criminal had straight orange-toned locks, currently slightly damp and hanging, like a veil halfway covering his eyes. His plump rosy lips covered up pearly white teeth, and held a threat in their corners. Underneath his smile lay secrets, however they hadn't been told in a large amount of time. He was of normal size, some may say on the shorter side. However his build didn’t take away from his terrifying aura. The interviewer pulled the other chair out and sat his heavy bosom into the metal discomfort zone. He glanced at the prisoner again, then down at his clipboard. The fat man clears his throat, then smiles and speaks in a gravelly and audibly satisfying voice. "Jung Hoseok. That is your name correct?" He seemed on edge, this was always entertaining for Hoseok. The smirk on his lips grows to a full blown grin, the corners of his mouth stretching infinitely. "You could say that, yes." His own voice was velvet smooth, dark and yet placid. Exactly how he lured people into his trap. All it took was a smile, and that person could be considered dead alive. He let his hands open slightly, wrists still held to the cool surface of the table by the restricting handcuffs. This showed signs of openness, stating that he was ready to be interviewed. The innocuous man swallowed, and continued on speaking. “Well then, let us start with something easy. Why did you do it?” He did not want the answer. That much was clear by how sweat had begun to spring forward from his shiny forehead. Hoseok picked up everything about his presence. The way his hands clung onto his clipboard as if he were free and armed. A serene taciturn fills the air, before the affable tone of Hoseok permeated the interviewer’s ears. “Why did I do it?” His voice didn’t falter. There wasn’t the slightest of wavering nor uncertainty. He tilts his head to the left, a strand of hair that had shifted from the wet mop on his head falling in front of his left eye. “I did it because it was fun.” He found pleasure in the way the interviewer reacted to him after that, swallowing briskly and eying up the questions so he could finish up quickly. He was awful at hiding his fear, Hoseok could see the fervent consternation in his eyes. He, in panic, would spit out a cursory question, spit flying from his sausage lips and landing on the papers he held in trembling hand. “We all do things that are fun, so why is my way of having fun so wrong?” “How is claiming the lives of five people; a family, fun?” He seemed disgusted by Hoseok words, and he swallowed as though choking down bile. “It is the same as hunting a deer. Thrilling, satisfying...powerful. The only difference is that deer have less of a chance to fight back.” Hoseok shrugs, raising his head again and smiling with a truly excited expression. “So tell me. What is it you want from being here?” The man swallowed yet again, his Adam's apple barely seen due to the layers of fat wrapped around his neck. He was a people-pleasing pig. That much was obvious, and Hoseok did not want to speak to him any longer. He wished to cut to the chase. “I want to know why you are not afraid to die.” The man had raised his voice, and seemed to want Hoseok to be surprised by the notion of claiming he should fear death. The boy raised an eyebrow, staring unfalteringly at the interviewer, who seemed only seconds away from cardiac arrest. The corner of his mouth twitched before his body smoothly leaned in closer to the man, speaking his last words for the interview. “I am a killer. Why would I fear death when I know it would come? If I feel happy killing others, then being afraid to die would make no sense. All of you investigators are the same, boring dull questions, cocky presumptuous attitudes, and don't get me started on your smell. It's exhausting. Now please leave, those cuffs were hurting my wrists, and I don’t feel like watching you sweat any more.” Hoseok leaned back in his seat, tossing the cuffs onto the table with an emotionless sigh. The interviewer stumbled back, his gaze on the restraints which no longer were on the prisoner’s body. With a shudder, the interviewer gathered his things, stood up, and left. The wailing next door began again, and Hoseok closed his eyes. "