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 No Point In Pretending, Mar. 20th, 4pm, opem
Wicked
 Posted: Apr 5 2018, 10:31 PM
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It’d been over a decade since Wicked had made her hanbok for New Year’s with her grandmother. More than ten years had passed since she’d last laid eyes on the outfit which had become the memory she clung to as a life raft. One would think some of the details of it would have faded or become fuzzy. But Wicked could still recall every detail of the traditional garb. From the vibrant colors of the stripes on the sleeves to the bright red of the otgoreum and chima. She remembered carefully embroidering the geometric pattern along the hem of her chima. Taking every bit of care with every stitch to make it perfect as her grandmother watched. And the thrill that came when she had finally been gotten to put it on for the first time. Spinning around, watching her chima puff out. The striped sleeves had felt like wings which she’d dreamt of flying away from the camp by putting to use.

Determined to recreate her hanbok, to be able to touch it again, she’d begun working on making it when she’d first gotten her room set up with a sewing machine and dress form. At first, it’d been just drawing it out. Trying to remember how her grandmother had made the various pieces for the jeogori. Sketching out various pieces and putting them together on paper only to realize she couldn’t make a pattern solely from memory. So, she’d found one. It wasn’t perfect. But, Wicked could make adjustments.

The first mockup had been true to the pattern. It’d been practice for her to figure what she needed to adjust. Sleeves needed to be a bit longer. The body of the jeogori had to be lengthened so it’d cover the ties of her chima. So, the second mockup had been put together. All the adjustments she’d needed to do with the last one had been taken into account. Wicked had carefully examined it as she tried it on more than once. Scrutinizing for any little flaws she could see and finding no glaring errors.

It did sit differently on her as she hadn’t made a sokchima yet to wear under it and it was just muslin. Not to mention the fact that her body had changed since she’d last worn hanbok. Hell, her body had changed just since arriving in America. While by no means fat, she’d gained some weight. No longer did she seem to be tiptoeing around the line of being a bit bony looking. There was more of her around the bust and hip area, albeit still not a whole lot. But, it made her kind of uncomfortable seeing her body change like that. She wanted to cover it up. While she covered her scars and tattoo when out in the world to avoid the stares and possible questions, she wanted to hide her body from herself.

Acquiring the white and red fabric for the main portions of her hanbok hadn’t been too difficult. What had eluded her was the striped fabric for her sleeves. Yes, she knew she could just use the white for her body of her jeogori for the sleeves as well. She could embroider it with birds and dragons. But, that wasn’t what she wanted for this. Wicked was chasing a memory in an attempt to relive it. Even though she knew the girl who’d worn the original hanbok had died a long time ago. For just a moment or two, she’d like to pretend. Pretend to be that girl again. Even just for a second.

She’d gotten some various fabrics of the different colors she remembered her sleeves being. Cutting them into strips, she’d sewn them together. And the results were ok. It didn’t look bad at all. But, it also didn’t look right to her. Balling up one of the sleeves, she threw it across the room. ”Damn it!” There were tears in her eyes and she wanted to explode. Upset to the point she was shaking, ”God fucking damn it! Why can’t I get this right?” The other piece of sewn together strips of fabric sat on her desk where she glared at it. Green, purple, yellow, fuchsia, blue, white, and red were all sewn neatly together in a way that was honestly passable. But, to her, it wasn’t right. She couldn't pretend it was the same as the original.

Fed up with her everything, Wicked stormed out of her room grabbing her knife Creed had given her and flipping her own work the finger as she left. Stomping off to go take out her hurricane of emotions on something in the training room. Or else just go out and find something or someone to completely wreck.
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Senyaka
 Posted: Apr 15 2018, 09:50 AM
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"What do you plan to do with that knife?" Suvik asked as he quietly slipped out of his own room. For the better part of the day in his room pacing about. He had certain urges, certain compulsions. Every single day. His mind often wondering off into the vividly grotesque and violent imaginings of a stark raving psychopath who had the capacity to exist in his own reality as well as in the real world. Today was a day that Suvik was struggling to reign in his own impulses.

Most days he kept things under wraps and tightly so. Understanding that his proclivities could very well place the Brotherhood in jeopardy. The last thing any of them needed was a National man hunt for a mutant serial killer plaguing Yonkers. Which was one of the reasons why Suvik went into Jersey or further into New York. Places were population was dense and people were less likely to be missed. And generally only when he needed to fill his stored life force reserve. The last thing the Brotherhood needed was to fight a conflict with Suvik running low on energy.

Though today was a different day. Suvik was topped off on power, and still had the urge to go for a "walk." Like a smoker with his urge to light up, or a recovering alcoholic who just drove by the 7-11 with its Bud light sale signs. There was a deep compulsion like gravity pulling a dropped ball to the floor. 'Walking through these hallways like you're planning to stab someone might give somebody the wrong idea."
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Wicked
 Posted: Apr 22 2018, 09:18 PM
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There were some members of the Brotherhood who Wicked hadn’t really interacted with much. Either by chance or by choice, and Senyaka was one of the former. Not that it mattered as she shot him a look of why the hell was he even talking to her? She half-expected him to try and stop her from unleashing whatever hell came to mind amidst her typhoon of rage and frustration. ”Things.” She’d gotten really good at giving one word pain in the ass answers that’d pissed off the guards. A habit that hadn’t died when she’d joined the Brotherhood.

Doing her best to try and read Suvik’s expression, Wicked came up empty. What it was that the man wanted, she hadn’t the foggiest. And even if she had a clue, she honestly wouldn’t have given a damn. All the teen wanted at that moment was to tear something apart. To completely destroy something to the point where there’d be no hope in returning it to its former glory. Because if she was going to have to deal with that, she was taking something else or someone else with her.

Scoffing, she went to move past the man. Completely disregarding the fact that he was much bigger than her, she had no intention on her stopping her forward momentum. ”Or it might be the right one.” Muttering as she tightened her grip on the blade, the impending destructive force that was the girl just kept going. Something about her was both burning hotter while her expression was far more chilling than usual. Her mind clearly made up about what she was going to do, at least in that something was going to get wrecked.
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