Curate, connect, and discover
the act of two oppositions striking violently against another. see also: jina and @mmjihye, mid-afternoon, cheong ryeong common room; wits end.
𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆:
a normal day, sure. that’s to be expected.
she figures from the start, that the day will go on as normal, or as close to it as possible. because what was ‘normal’, these days, wasn’t really normal (not when each day is faced with treacherous expectations set by the infamy that came with being one of the numerous spawn of the kwak jidam) by definition. so, the day spins out from dawn, slowly. it goes and goes and she pays no attention to the warning signs in plain sight, of the whispers that linger and hinder, she blocks them all out. for jina wasn’t one to read too into things, anyways.
she sees the hours come to a close, and the way the afternoon bleeds into her day.
and soon, the lunch hour ends uneventfully. the minutes tick on by; slow, casual steps are made as she strolls from where she and hana had taken their afternoon meal, where they part ways and back. a premeditated task lurking in the back of her mind, busy as always, pre-occupied all the same as she takes the route back towards the cheong ryeong common rooms. it’s a short walk, with faint remembrance of where she had left her books at the forefront of her mind, expecting the stack of literature to be right where she had left it.
again, jina wasn’t sure what she was expecting:
her books piled high atop one of the dozen side tables loitered about, yes.
but surely, not this.
not kwak jihye --kwak fucking jihye-- kwak, her fucking sister, leave-without-a-fucking-heads-up jihye and her god-forsaken face lounging about like it was the most natural thing to be. acting as if her ass hadn’t just gone awol for the last year, gone without a trace, pulling one of the most horrendous and disappointing houdini-disappearing acts known to mankind.
no, jina hadn’t expected this at all.
which was why, she blinks twice for good measure. three times to make sure and a fourth to keep the gigantic vein from bulging out of her temple. fingers gingerly prying said books from where she had left them, collecting them carefully and finely into her arms; taking careful, determined steps further into the room. fingers brace the spines of the books before she stops short of where her sister lay.
and without notice, she drops them, quite aggressively into the mahogany table by their feet. teeth tightening over her smile as she stares at her sister, head-on, words barely spit through grinding molars. “what the fuck are you doing here?” no i miss yous, no familiarity-filled, unnie!, no nothing --except pure, raw hostility and perhaps, a dash of well-warranted anger.