[ Jhin Is A Boomer. Rakan Likes To Ask Questions. If U Think Abt It Dying Isn't Exactly Dying It's Just Like Eternal Sleep U Know! ] - Blog Posts
performer. /// quartlet.
AMBIGUOUS TILL THE LAST, it was his cloak, his skin, his shield, his everything. lingering doubt always wore itself well upon the faces of those who seek to peer in, to gaze until every last droplet is revealed. far better to live as a dream than to live at all. or at least, that is what comforted him, dismal as it may be. khada jhin never performs without reason, though oft times art requires no reason in being, no purpose in merely existing. art is, and so he is. he shall always be, haunting the streets of cobbled houses belonging to a no - name village in zhyun. devils do not seek reason, they seek what they thrive for, and thus he shall exist eternally, eternally, inside the nightmares of all those who have come to know him.
❛ i’m sure you are simply dying to know. ❜ his tone is languid, terribly languid. an undying smile curling artificial lips forevermore until the day it cracks open or it is torn away by bruised fingertips ( he wondered sometimes, if such a time might come to pass, though the dream is quickly dashed by visions of bleeding jaws and threaded necks. they bloom wildly. bursting from bone and blood vessel ; magnificent ). for now, rakan is neither a thorn nor a threat. perhaps he is both though he has not yet pricked at the flesh enough to draw forth the virtuoso’s true ire. what is one fool compared to another ? what is the sun when compared to the yawning darkness ? oh, what wonder.
❛ you will find taking certain precautions might one day save your skin in the long run, dear boy. ❜ his words are meant to burrow beneath, wearing teeth that snap and snicker between twists of petals. everything about khada jhin is a performance. whether or not it is agonising, is yet to be seen, and for the vastayan that day might never come. though he may be swept away by his curiosity all he likes. ❛ best not to tempt fate now, no ? ❜
such a profound level of serenity his voice encompassed, a natural ease — sickeningly so — both in movements & voice, a spark of envy may find itself growing, blooming at the heart of a certain vastaya. it is mystery to him if what ears hear are reality ; more so, is the drawl in voice merely imagination, auditory illusion, or factual perception ? curiosity, once enchanting & pure, begins its conquest of mind. a plague does it become that affects every corner of self ——— nonetheless, glee prevails behind it, hoping to discover what truths may lie behind man enveloped in mystery. despite aching desire to know, he relents & decides to break ice, know first secret ( if one could call it that ) of man behind mask.
❛ lucky for you, i love to tempt fate. ❜ that he does. why else would he remain near evidenty dangerous character ? most would back from treacherous individual, turn tail & return home, to safety's warm embrace, but not him. a taste of danger would usually equate to a taste of entertainment, a taste of fun. successfully evoking ire & annoyance from one who maintained calm demeanor would be a fruitful endeavor. for what reason ? none at all !! it is action without reason, entertainment sought in most peculiar of areas ❛ i'll tempt it right now & ask : what's the name you've got ? either the one that comes with the mask, or the one behind it. i'm game. ❜ yet another shot at attempting to unravel the intricate web of mysteries that lie behind masked killer. smile, smile, for those secrets may not yet be within reach, albeit a stubborn vastaya knows naught of giving up.
& he takes opportunity to allow fate to guide limbs towards front of artisan's path, finally attaining desired destination : a blockage in his path, hoping to garner necessary information to dispel the mystery of name, to elongate conversation. fated stranger, stay a while ! travels may make one dreary & desire respite at vilest hour. come, stick for a chat.