streets

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; xu minghao [] sorry for the wait! replies might start to shorten, unfortunately

The sound of the police officer's whistle startled Rui, causing her to jump considerably before getting to her feet. Muttering something along the lines of "Don't say I didn't warn you," she her heel and ran off. She'd been gone so quickly, she hadn't noticed the man she'd been spending the past half hour hanging around disappear. She only caught sight of a considerably stunned cop and a puddle of paint when she managed to glance back, but just barely as she'd been going too fast. Facing forward again, she obediently followed Splat as he tugged her through the network of alleys that were so characteristic of the city.

They only slowed down when they were considerably far away from the main street and Rui heaved a sigh far beyond her years as she dropped to a crouch in an effort to catch her breath. "You know I can't run that fast that easily anymore," she complained despite giving the canine's head an appreciative scratch. When he didn't respond to the physical praise, Rui looked at Splat and noticed his gaze was trained on something down the alley, ears pressed back warily. Following his line of sight, she blinked in surprise. It was the guy from before, but how the hell had he beat her there? She furrowed her brows before concluding that maybe he had some sort of power that lent itself to teleportation. Still, her curiosity wasn't quite sated.

"Hey!" she called, cupping her hands over as she stood upright again to be heard. If he could hear her, anyway. "How'd you get out of there so fast?"

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; watanabe rui It was sort of an arbitrary choice for Minghao to cease his work – just to let his back slide down on the wall facing his incomplete mural. There was no fatigue nor does he needed the time to piece his thoughts together—the artwork already complete even before he decided to go out in the streets—it was merely an action resulting from impulse. His eyes were glued to the scenery in front of him: it was an illusion created by his twin before. It was his favorite one; he remembers how much he complimented his twin because of such thing he had conjured. From then on, he would secretly sketch the scenery merely from memory until finishing it eventually. After that, Minghao never forgot about it again.

It was a mangrove forest; the swamp right at the center. They were both at the age of twelve when his twin had conjured such scenery, right inside their room. He still remembers how the swamp felt warm on his hands as he scooped it up – in hopes to criticize at least something. Yet even the feeling of the roots on his feet as he tried balanced above them were unbelievably believable. Such illusion lasted for about an hour or so, and he remembers sitting beside his twin on one of the much larger roots as their bare feet hover over the water—he remembers their unclear yet distinguishable reflection on its surface.

The work on the wall was unfinished because the said large root had no one sitting on it; it was just the mangroves surrounding a swamp. It looked and felt empty but it was a rather comforting sight. Minghao was about to tap his finger in the swamp for it to ripple when the woman from the other side informed him that there was a cop. Shock surged through his body—not because of the cop but how the person had lingered by his clone; most probably watching it do its work quietly. Some would almost immediately leave it alone when they seemed to notice it was blatantly ignoring them.

As he heard the familiar sound of the cop whistle, he immediately concentrated to make his clone melt into a puddle of paint. In a normal day, he would probably just continue with his own work but knowing that there was another person in the vicinity of his clone, he recalled where it exactly was and hoped that the stranger would run his way for him to most likely save her from the trouble.

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; xu minghao Though quiet, there was no denying the expertise of the muralist. It was a simple piece. A sunset, she'd gathered after a few minutes of progress. The way he would just paint confidently without making any mistakes or fudged lines was both awe-inspiring and jealousy-inducing. It made her miss the days when she could just do that: draw without feeling the need to restart or erase. Now, she would go through pages and pages during class and numerous redo's during therapy all because her hands just refused to find stillness.

She glances down at them, ever so slightly shaking even as she did something as simple and therapeutic as carding her fingers through the multi-colored fur of Splat's scruff. Her eyes welcomed the break from the continuous staring at the wall, slowly being covered with the beautiful warm oranges, yellows, reds, of sunset and she continued looking around the general area for a bit. She watched a cab driver help an elderly woman out of his vehicle, a few students making their way home at the close of their days, and then her eyes caught sight of a police car at the other end of the street. "," she hissed softly, causing her canine companion's ears to perk, jolting from their initially relaxed position.

For a few moments, her eyes darted between the muralist and the officer returning to his car after leaving the cafe he'd parked in front of. If he continued down the street, there was no doubt he'd catch the harmless act and deem it punishable. Standing up again, she covered some of the respectful distance she'd left for her fellow artist, and crouched so as not to arise too much suspicion. "There's a cop, 5 o'clock. You should probably get out of here-" she informed quickly as Splat was actively tugging at his lead in another direction. The dog's situational awareness never ceased to amaze her. She wouldn't be surprised if he was actually human.

Shaking her head from the momentary distraction, she focused back on the situation at hand. Still no response. Any normal person would have at least glanced at her. "You seriously can't hear me? There's. A. Cop."

@ᵗ ; kim minkyung the government liked to poke their noses a little too much into places where they didn't belong. but that wasn't exactly the case for jinsoul, she supposed. despite her newly gained freedom under the headmaster's guidance, she was still under the supervision of the military, of course. she was their dog; the best one they'd ever had, even if she wasn't the most obedient of them all. she was still an effective dog with a leash on her neck, her wings free so that she was given the illusion of freedom. she hadn't let that illusion fool her just yet, but sometimes she would indulge herself. however it seemed as though they hadn't trusted her completely yet, but she wouldn't blame them, honestly.

jinsoul was one of their biggest threats, after all.

but perhaps they should have sent someone better at the job, or was it because that jinsoul had been far too used to being watched that she knew when a particular pair of eyes would linger longer on her figure than normal. she was aware of the person that was watching her from afar, a distance between the two of them, but enough for the other person to watch her actions closely. she had an inkling on who the person stalking her was, but she had no means of being certain unless she herself made contact with the other.

she blinked, and smiled to herself. should she do that then?

she almost let out a giggle as she crossed the street. now how shall she surprise her little stalker? she had passed by a blind beggar then, and she had only hoped that the stalker didn't see the coldness of her eyes as she gazed upon the homeless man, before she took out a couple of coins from her pocket, letting it fall onto the man's can. an act of kindness to throw the stalker off — if they were from the military, they would have known she wasn't capable of such things without reason, but it's been three years since she'd last stepped foot into the military camps. surely, this was enough to surprise them a little.

and she grinned softly to herself as she walked away. now she had a plan in her mind.

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; watanabe rui For someone who is fairly sensible in both art and replication, Minghao deems the dummy he planted as bait, a rather disconcerting work of his. Although it undeniably resembled him in all aspects, the clone was hollow: unresponsive albeit capable of communicating what it hears and feels through physical contact. Those aside, there is no denying that it was eminently stationary even if it was capable to render a scenery from Minghao’s memory. Even so, there are times he feels more identified with his clone than himself—inferior and frigid. There come moments to which he envies it even: having no capability to pass judgment—as passing judgment meant understanding; and understanding meant it could affect him in ways he could not entirely direct. No direction meant being lost and Minghao is nowhere near ready to feel such again.

After an audible exhale, he goes back to daintily stroking the outline of what he desires to be a fragment of his childhood. It has been a while since Minghao even thought of conserving such memories but these days, he was almost yearning to do so. If he succeeds, he thinks a surge of bliss would come to cradle him and rid him of transpiring dreads. After all, he was already in his senior year – he does not want to feel as if his time in the academy fleeted without much sense. Minghao is still in the chase: a fox sprinting towards a hare—a tangible yet somehow transient creature.

The clone on the other hand, was tasked to decorate the walls with a simple scenery: how the sunset appears when admired atop a hill – a memory so vivid that even just by the thought of it, Minghao could feel the synergistic touch of the warm afternoon breeze and chilly whiff of the night. He hoped that whoever were to query about his progress will be able to catch on to the image in some way.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the streets, there came a muffled yet distinct sound: a woman’s voice, Minghao assumes it to be. He could not quite catch what she had said to which he responds with a halt in his actions – “What’s the final product going to be?” Minghao finally catches on. Just as he thought; this was not uncommon at all as those passing by would often get curious of what could be a young adult like him doing in such an open area—vulnerable to the scorns of law enforcers and civilians alike. Yet the words of the lady from the other side was enveloped with curiosity rather than distaste. This makes Minghao’s face contort into a scowl – if only he was skilled enough, he would answer the question but he could not; he definitely feels about not having the chance to do so.

Somehow, he could still sense that the individual was still in the vicinity making him quite agitated thinking it might be a law enforcer or a neighborhood bully. Minghao stays alert: his mind now more focused on the clone’s senses rather than his own, nullifying his own progress on what he was painting himself.

@ʲ⁰³ ; jung jinsoul quiet, stealthy steps. minkyung slides her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to look at the target. so far so good. she knows that what she's doing is essentially wrong on all levels and possibly breaking the rules of the academy, but she couldn't turn down the offer: make sure jung jinsoul is staying on the right path, and gain respect and father's trust. hell, it was risky business to sort of work for the military, but it would have been even riskier for her not to. besides, she won't get caught, minkyung has always been good at keeping herself on the down low.

in all honesty minkyung would have agreed to do this even if she didn't gain anything – well, technically she still isn't gaining any profit, it's only her pride and status on the line. it's the adrenaline rush that makes her motivated to do this. she feels like an undercover spy. yes, she loves her job as a teacher, but it's not the same as real field work where nothing is as secure as in the classroom.

the target stops for a while to wait to cross the street. minkyung stays behind at a safe distance, camouflaging herself against a pillar by stretching her body as flat against the cold marble as possible. when the coast is clear she returns to her normal stance, glancing around just in case anyone paid any attention to her before proceeding with her mission, following the student across the street.

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; min yoongi being a hero was never yugyeom's intention. no, it isn't because he doesn't want to be one, but his goal was to take over the crown for his beloved father. there isn't anything wrong in being one. he knows that he'll have to visit earth regardless. the species need their help, and that issue will be in yugyeom's hands once he receives the title. even if it wasn't his original plan, he finds the idea as something fun. he likes helping citizens cross their way, or luckily defeating enemies that steps in the way. he feels excitement whenever he feels adrenaline pumping—he /wants/ to be a hero.

unfortunately today, yugyeom is met with a risky task—actually being one.

the blonde forms a big pout while his partner continuously yells at him. he isn't mad of course, but he doesn't like the idea of being yelled at. he watches the male's every move, dashing from building to building with a smoky blast. he stays underneath; there isn't exactly a way for yugyeom to fly, beside moving in enhanced speeds, but he isn't able to fully control that yet. "i'm doing my best! please do believe in what i have, yoongi!" he shouts back after being jabbed a couple of times.

the former releases a sigh and follows yoongi from under, then spotting the frightened family inside the building. yoongi grabs the two children with a hint of panic. the monster in front of them roars with might, slamming building by building with unseen fists. his eyes widen at the enemy, but he looks up immediately in response to 'dickhead' (and yes, he is responding to it now since yoongi repeatedly calls them that). his ally releases the kids from his hold, which gives yugyeom a slight panic as he runs from below to capture the screaming shadows. "why did you do that, yoongi?!" he shrieks, looking up to match the dropping bodies.

with a huge yelp, he manages to take hold of both kids—nearly dropping them on the floor. "please give a fair warning before doing such un-heroic acts," he grumbles with the same pout.

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; kim yugyeom what does it mean to be a hero?

yoongi isn’t sure, but he’s sure everyone’s descriptions are passed down in an innocent game of telephone, or sprayed over with a glossy sheen that hid all the crevices of corruption. the red on their hands suddenly washed away until it looked like paint and fun with the kids; the weapons in their hands churned to flowers gifted from the civilians in appraise.

who were all these heroes to call themselves saviours when they’ve killed as many as a villain?

“less talk and more do you useless dickhead— jeez, do you ever shut the up?!” hissing out in rage with his gaze narrowing at yugyeom to slits and knitted brows, he continues with a finger jabbing into the latter’s chest, “frankly I don’t give a about what you do or what you are. get this mission done and let’s go home you stupid .” well, he does know what yugyeom is; the lovely king from some weird planet in the universe — an alien just like yoongi is, but he also knows the dude is natural selection’s favourite meal.

he’s blasting himself up with his hands, propelling near one of the buildings while the villain roars in rage, cracking the buildings down into rubble with its ‘invisible’ fists. though in panic, yoongi spots a family a few meters off and he flies over to holler, “move back!” before pressing a palm against the surface, shattering the glass between them which reveal a family of four: the mom, dad, and two kids. he settles himself onto their floors, heaving out a sigh as the villain rattled closer to their base, “for fu— heck’s sake. taking your kids first. will be back soon. stay here. don’t go anywhere or I’ll be pissed.” he ordered, hooking the two kids in his arms, yelling from below, “yo dickhead! catch!” then... a very non-hero thing to do, he drops the two kids from the second floor.

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; min yoongi if there was one enemy that jinsoul had a hard time defeating, it was boredom. there was little she could do if nothing she did on her own amused her, and it was, well, rather irritating. she loathed the dull hours, and would honestly do anything if it meant eliminating the boredom she felt. but she supposed being bored had its advantages sometimes — after all, it was because she was bored and observing the world from above (ignoring that her guardian hadn't exactly allowed her to fly around town) that she had picked up that trouble might be pooling around the academy, or to be more specific, around the entity that the people surrounding them called code black. now, now, jinsoul believed that curiosity was a good thing, but she supposed that wasn't a good thing to someone who was — more or less — hiding a secret.

three days. for three days, the siren had lingered on the explosive hero's trail, keeping a close eye on another who probably thought he was being discreet enough not to be noticeable. too bad for him, she was rather observant, and she had somewhat expected this — another military dog that was most likely ordered by his superior to keep a close watch on code black. said superior... was probably someone who didn't like jinsoul, as she had already taken the role of supervising the lad out of military camps. oh well, she thought to herself as she landed on the ground with a soundless thud, retracting her wings from her back. she couldn't help it as a corner of her lips rose up. it wouldn't be too bad to piss off whoever that superior was.

she quickly walked toward yoongi, eyes focused on the latter's back as she not so subtly passed by the unwanted presence. by then, her visage had taken on a more cordial and casual expression as she reached yoongi's back, her hands pressing against the expanse of it while she leaned close, tilting her head up a little for her lips to be closer to the other's ear. "you should be more aware of your surroundings, code black," she whispered — and it might have been seductive too, if only her voice wasn't the siri voice that johnny had given her.

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; xu minghao With the last of her classes through for the day, Rui let out an almost relieved sigh as she exited the Fashion Design building of her other school. Her arms moved high above her head in an almost involuntarily stretch and she lightly winced as her perpetually aching body protested the move. By her feet, her Slate Merle Collie waited patiently for her to continue walking.

As the duo moved along the passenger walk, Rui thought about how she would spend the rest of her day. Between therapy and studying for term B finals, she was beat and should have probably made her way home, but she wasn't so sure she felt like dealing with her parents and their constant coddling. So, she continued on past the turn to her apartment and eventually found herself in a part of town she rarely visited. By her side, Splat was attentive and keeping an eye out for any dangers but Rui found her attention grabbed by someone hard at work on what could only be presumed to be a mural.

She slowed to a stop a few feet away from the stranger, head tilted as she tried to make out exactly what he was creating. Unable to get it right away in such an early stage, she cleared to make herself known before speaking. "Hey, hi, uh..what's the final product gonna be?" He didn't answer. Her brows furrowed a bit but she asked again, a little louder as she figured the noise of the streets had drowned her out.

Still nothing and she wasn't keen on asking again, so she surmised that he must have been one to keep their work to themselves during the process. He wasn't yelling at her to get lost either and she had time to kill, so she decided to stick around and find out. Leading Splat over to an abandoned milk crate so they wouldn't be in any other pedestrians' way, she sat down to watch the muralist's ministrations.

@ˢ⁰⁴ ; watanabe rui Delivering a brief glance towards his considerably flawed likeness, Minghao began to conjure his ardor; directing it to his clone. Before deserting his now mobile catalyst, he gave his surroundings one final scan: it was rather serene – people pass him and his clone as if they were fully accustomed to such sights. The realization made Minghao scoff, of course it was not an odd sight – lots of people are now used to seeing peculiar happenings. With such thoughts he felt a gush of discomfort but immediately shrugged it off before striding towards the next block.

In his free time—when he does not have much things to do in school and had no clients—Minghao would wander the streets to paint some of the public walls. Back then, he would often get caught by law enforcers causing him to spend a night in jail before he could bail himself out. It was not much of a challenge to get out of jail since the place was rather small – he could easily use his powers to paint illusions that would allow him to set himself free but he chooses not to; often discerns it as something of an unnecessary action – a waste of time and effort. Instead, he takes the time in jail to reflect on memories and lectures: both from the academy and his grandfather.

There are times though, that he does not risk getting caught. Minghao then uses a clone whenever he wants to work on quite an open area; where it would be easy for the police to catch him. He then proceeds to another block to work on a more secluded area, making it easy to evade whoever would persecute him. It was like a silly game of hide and seek and it was his strategy to use his clone as a bait. For Minghao, it was mostly just harmless fun – the streets needed more life in his opinion; and he was more than happy to provide.

The sky was awash by mottled dark clouds and pale light managed to breakthrough some tiny spaces in otherwise the pre-dawn setting. Humidity and smell of storm weaved in the air that encompassed him, however the tumultuous emotions wrecking havoc within were the actual culprit of his sadness. Ah, sadness was such an immature sounding word something so trifle to castaway away with a happy memory or the smile of a friend but he has neither. With gravity-drawn shoulders and despondent pair of orbs, he trudged through the streets with a brittle chuckle and rickety composure yearning for a friend even amongst the unfamiliarity.