Post by myo daeun on Nov 20, 2011 8:39:48 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; height: 700px; padding: 10px; border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; background-color: #FFFFFF; border: #B674D3 10px solid;] MYO, DAEUN ALIAS: Blue" SERENDIPITY , "  pick a star on the dark horizon. CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART BEATING FOR YOU. JUST YOU. AGE: 14 ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE: about a year. HOW DID YOU FIND US?: already here~ OTHER CHARACTERS: kim ryeowook. ANYTHING TO SAY: -- HIDDEN PHRASE: admin edit WHEN I TRY TO FORGET CHARACTER NAME: Myo DaeunI THINK OF YOU WHEN I TURN AROUND NAME SIGNIFICANCE: Daeun means "great grace", but has no particular meaning towards her. NICKNAMES: Day SEX: Female AGE & GRADE: 25 (occupation: freelance journalist) SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual. ETHNICITY: Korean MEMBER GROUP: citizen. CANON OR ORIGINAL: original. SUBPLOTS: -- I WANT TO STOP HAIR COLOR: BlackI WANT TO FORGET ABOUT YOU. EYE COLOR: Brown. She wears circle lenses, though, and changes its color all the time. HEIGHT: 5"8' WEIGHT: 132 lbs BODY TYPE: Slender DISTINCT FEATURES: One would say the most noticeable thing about Daeun was her eyes, and, considering that they're the only features of her that are not natural, doesn't reflect very well on her ability to stand out. I KNOW IN MY HEAD FACE CLAIM: Hwang Mi HeeBUT MY HEART KEEPS ON REBELLING. LIKES: writing (stories, poetry, fanfiction, articles, etc), tennis, the color green, books, lateral thinking puzzles, solitude, physical intimacy, stuffed toys, balloon animals, people-watching, bubble tea, euphemisms, expressions, sweaters, photography, autumn, hammocks, dice, music boxes, Super Junior. DISLIKES: hiccups, misplacing things, sunburns, tense atmospheres, bitter foods, loud alarm clocks, bad driving, her appearance, admitting a fault, liquor, crowded areas, parties, nightlife, arguments, artificial flavoring, falling ill, cheapness, waiting, small talk, gore. STRENGTHS: extroverted, quick-thinking, reliable, modest, headstrong; academics, coming up with excuses, using words to describe things, writing, playing the flute. (strengths in terms of personality and things that she's good at.) WEAKNESSES: cowardly, insecure, pessimistic, careless, complicated; singing, swimming, anything athletic; bubble tea, puppies. (weaknesses in terms of personality, things she's bad at, and things that can easily persuade her.) HABITS/QUIRKS: - If she is bored and your phone is in the vicinity, she will swipe it away to either send nonsensical texts to all of your contacts, or take a selca of her pulling a ridiculous face and replace your home screen image with it. - Daeun tends to develop hopeless crushes on guys way out of her league, including ones who are taken, gay, or look right through her. Her current infatuation is with an idol, Super Junior's Leeteuk, and while she loves the group as a whole, he's her ultimate bias. - When she can't find the right words to describe how she is feeling, which is in itself quite a rare occasion, she will make noises to make up for it. She also does this when she's bored, so if you suddenly hear whale sounds coming from somewhere, suspect her. - If she's feeling awkward, nervous, anxious, stressed, impatient, tense or unsure, she will chew on her bottom lip so harshly she might even draw blood. It's an awful habit that causes quite an amount of problems, but like a pack-a-day smoker, she just can't help it. - She likes taking pictures, whether it be of her friends, her things, her surroundings, etc. Due to this, she almost always has a camera with her, whether it be the one on her cellphone or her Nikon D7000 (of which she has exactly seven different lenses for). OVERALL PERSONALITY: I STILL FEEL YOU BY TO ME FATHER: Myo Seunghyun, 54, accountantI CANT BELIEVE IN FAREWELL MOTHER: Song Yejin, 51, housewife/former model SIBLINGS: Myo Taegyun, deceased OTHER FAMILY: -- PETS: Einstein OVERALL HISTORY: |
Goading whispers began once the classroom was behind them. "Look at her clothes. They're all ragged and old 'cause her mommy doesn't love her." "—doesn't love her because she's a nasty old skeleton." "Skeleton!" Shrieks of laughter met the familiar nickname, flung like a dagger at her retreating, stooped form. She hung her head even lower, wanting to disappear. Giggles bubbled through the air. A boldly-thrown rock hit one of the young girl's protruding shoulder blades. She flinched in momentary pain, but pushed her slipping glasses further up the bridge of her nose and trudged on. She'd long since become accustomed to the routine. "She lied when we wrote our essays about summer. Didn't go nowhere. Didn't make friends. Lying little skeleton girl." "She lied about it 'cause nobody likes him, stupid." "Nobody, skinny like an ugly bag of bones. "—so skinny because she doesn't want to eat." "Because she wants to die instead!" Tears stung her eyes, and she tried frantically to wipe them away with the bony palm of a hand. Too late.
"Look! She's crying!" More laughter, as if her misfortunes were a cartoon carefully tailored for their amusement.
That last barb was pitched just as he emerged in the doorway, arms folded. His gaze neither admonished nor accused the children. But they were struck dumb nonetheless by the immutably sobering presence of an older child, one bigger and stronger and braver than they were. Her once-vindictive classmates dispersed like a flock of birds, skipping homewards. Their merry chatter echoed like the sound of light rain, puddling and dripping behind them. Their malice was forgotten until tomorrow; now, there was homework to be done and cookies to be eaten and toys to be had. The preteen watched them go, shaking his head before turning to look at the huddled mess of knobby elbows and knees behind him. He wrapped the petite figure in his arms and placed a warming kiss on her forehead, peeling her away after a moment's pause. When he looked down again at the girl, her tears had dried and she had a bright smile on her face. She remained silent, but the male knew she was grateful. The thanks lingered like warm honey in the air.
Myo Daeun was born on January 9th, just minutes before midnight in Busan, South Korea. Her parents seemed a regular couple, one a former model and stay-at-home mother, the other an accountant father keeping food on the table. No one was sure what brought the two to marriage, as they were so very different, and seemed only to share a past from being in middle class families. Whatever the reason, however, they were the cause of their daughter. Before her, though, they had another child, Taegyun, a son. The two children got along exceedingly well, and told each other things they kept from everyone else. When Daeun started grade school, she was bullied quite often for her appearance —she was a skinny kid, too tall for her age, and frankly looked like five long sticks glued together. She was teased for never having her own clothes, instead wearing her brother's secondhand ones, and she was made fun of for needing to wear such thick glasses. The unrelenting hate was a daily thing, as if it were procedure, and it upset her all the time. But when she saw her brother, ready to walk her home and protect her from anything, all the fear and hatred in her seeped away like water hissing into sand.
And all was well, for the most part. As life progressed, Daeun grew her own interests, finding that the thing she loved to do the most was write. Whether it be about herself or other people, she loved putting pen to paper or fingers to keys and just letting the sentences flow. Thinking outside of the box in pressuring situations was a specialty of hers, and she could come up with the most believable scenarios in a snap. This led her to being a very reliable person when it came to doing tasks such as group projects and such, though she had a tongue that spoke many lies. Most of the time, she didn't even notice when she wasn't telling the truth, something that infuriated others to no end. There were many things wrong with her back then —like the fact that she always put the blame on others when things went wrong, ran away when they got even worse and sulked for weeks about things that could have easily been fixed. Truly, back then, she was a bit of an awful person. In spite of this, Daeun still had a decent amount of friends and was never alone, especially with Taegyun there. But, as she soon came to learn, he couldn't stay for long.
She was thirteen when it happened. Their parents were away on vacation, so Taegyun was in charge. With her brother being quite lenient and her thinking their absence would work to her advantage, it was the second time that week that she had been out after curfew. It was a few hours from midnight, and a red glow, like some fell fire, shone upon the street, a bloody beacon in the night that drowned out even the stars. The sun was rising oddly quickly that day. Daeyn snuck into the house as quietly as she could, slipping through the doors she opened in cracks and tiptoeing down the wooden hallways, only to find the house completely empty. Confused, she called for her brother. It was then that the phone rang, and her whole world stopped. It was three a.m., and she was told that her brother had been killed by a drunk driver. He had been killed, when he was out looking for her. Needless to say, her parents had rushed home the next day once they received the news, and Daeun was found in the living room sobbing empty tears, eyes almost glued shut from the dried moisture from the night before, phone still cradled in her arms. She was feverish with grief and guilt and she was made to go to the hospital for she would and could not move —the same one Taegyun had been in when the ambulance had brought him in the night before.
To this day, she can still remember the funeral. It was a week after the accident, and there was a splash of red petals —roses?— against mahogany, and there was a priest, head bowed, muttering something about what a wonderful young man Taegyun was and what a loss it was to the world; nobody listened to him. Instead, they listened to the weeping of the young girl who sat curled into a ball on her seat, a young girl who had lost all that had meant to her, and they listened to her parent's endless words of comfort. And then the rest of her life flew past. She remembered a collection of new homes after having moved away from their last one, not wanting to remember. She remembered math problems and tears and putting effort into nothing. And she remembered writing. She remembered writing and writing and writing about her brother and his eyes and his smile and his laugh and how suddenly everything became nothing and nothing became something. A pile of memories put into words, stored into numerous notebooks and kept to read over and over again.
Her parents weren't sure what to do with her and even took her to a therapist. She never spoke during the sessions, but the medication did help slightly. It was a gradual process, accompanied by sleepless nights of tossing and turning and hours of recollections that flashed like developing daguerreotypes, but Daeun eventually learned that she'd never have her brother back. The day she learned this was the day she cried hardest of all, but it was the last time that she did.
In an effort to keep him close to her, though, Daeun subconsciously adapted bits of his personality. While she was never the kind to be extroverted, her brother had been one of the most charismatic and outgoing people she had ever known. It was due to this that she grew into the personality she has now —her facade, her brother's character, while something she has to put up on her own, is her protector and her shield. Just like Taegyun himself had been, and how, as it seemed, he always would be. As Daeun continued to grow up, she became livelier again, brighter and happier. She branched out and made more friends, worked hard in her classes once more, and she applied for and was given a spot at the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism in the UK, but she never forgot. Not even when she learned English, not even when she gained weight and became healthy, not even when returned to Seoul and got her own apartment, not even when she got her first task as a freelance journalist and even when she started getting more involved with life overall. It's always at the back of her mind, the guilt, the hurt and the loss, but she hides it behind everything, because hiding the truth is one of the things she does best.[/ul][/size]
SHES FORGOTTEN ME
SHE TOTALLY ERASED ME, WHY CANT I TOO?
DESIRED TITLE: " SERENDIPITY, "SHE TOTALLY ERASED ME, WHY CANT I TOO?
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE: See Ryeowook?
LISTEN TO MY HEARTBEAT...
ITS BEATING FOR YOU.
code credit goes to RONNIE. lyrics credit to HEARTBEAT as sung by 2PM. ITS BEATING FOR YOU.
original content by ronnie. table made by hay shay @ caution 2.0
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