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: ̗̀➛ feel free to call me fae or by my character's name

: ̗̀➛ timezone is gmt -5

: ̗̀➛ written for theodyssey universe, est. may of 2026

: ̗̀➛ profile completion: around 95%

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: ̗̀➛ third pov, past or present tense.

: ̗̀➛ ranges from semi-para to novella depending on muse.

: ̗̀➛ i do not care about mirroring and will not expect you to mirror either.

: ̗̀➛ do not give me one-liners unless it's in one of the ic chat spaces.

: ̗̀➛ i do not roleplay on walls. rooms or group pms only please!

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: ̗̀➛ reply speed varies based on muse and my real life schedule.

: ̗̀➛ do not expect daily replies.

: ̗̀➛ i work a full-time job with crazy commute times so activity most days is going to be very spotty.

: ̗̀➛ please do not poke me unless it's been more than ten days!

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: ̗̀➛ both mun and muse are of age (28+).

: ̗̀➛i am not my character and he is not me. what my character says and does is not always reflective of my real-life beliefs and values. do not conflate the two.

: ̗̀➛ certain themes, such as smut and erotica, are heavily dependent on whether i'm comfortable with you as a writer and whether it fits the plot for our characters.

: ̗̀➛do not try to force a relationship or dynamic onto my character. this is non-negotiable and you will be blocked/ignored if you try.

: ̗̀➛ask instead of assume. just because i may make jokes about a dynamic or interaction ooc does not mean that it'll automatically correlate to how i've planned to write my character. sometimes i'm unserious just for the sake of being unserious.

: ̗̀➛ absolute no-no's: anything revolving around incest, topics around sexual assault, certain kinks (can be discussed in pms), in-depth depictions of terminal illness, god-modding my character

: ̗̀➛ themes that are okay and encouraged: angst, in-character drama, romance if plotted, smut if plotted and it serves the characters or plot, slice-of-life

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: ̗̀➛ i look forward to writing with you! let's all have fun and make plenty of great memories!

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full name: lee taemin

ੈ♱‧₊˚ nicknames/aliases:

⤷ taemni, taemi, princess (don’t call him this if you aren’t close with him.)

⇢ used in his everyday

⤷ altair astris

⇢ his name under the black lace court

· · ── ༒︎༻♱༺༒︎ ── · ·

date of birth/age: 18 july ⋮⋮ appears 33

place of residence: pharos city

species: vampire

affiliation: the black lace court

occupation: contract killer, darling of the court

pronouns: he/they

orientation: panromantic-demisexual

marital status: single & not particularly interested

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general reference: lee taemin's coachella performances

· · ── ༒︎༻♱༺༒︎ ── · ·

height: approx. 175 cm

eye color: steely blue

hair color: platinum blond

speaking cadence: soft-spoken with a slow, velvety timbre that is measured and deliberate, with an air of amused detachment, as though he's watching rather than actively participating in conversation.

gait/posture: unhurried, almost languid. he maintains carefully curated confidence and control, carrying himself with the ease of someone who is used to being feared and desired in equal measure.

· · ── ༒︎༻♱༺༒︎ ── · ·

attire: he doesn't concern himself with following the latest trends, choosing most times to don casual street attire for comfort and convenience in his day-to-day. when it comes to work, he wears what he knows he looks good in.

sample 1 — sample 2 — sample 3 — sample 4

fragrance: yves saint laurent’s l’homme eau de parfum or tom ford’s neroli portifino eau de parfum.

while he usually gravitates towards fragrances that are citrusy, woody, and floral in nature, he will find himself indulging in the seductive fragrances with spicier, darker accords on the occasion. in those instances, he opts for tom ford's black orchid eau de parfum.

jewelry & other body mods:

⤷ ear piercings

⇢ has 4 types of piercings in each ear.

⤷ body piercings

⇢ has a navel piercing

⤷ tattoos/body markings

⇢ a peony unfurling on his right hip, partially faded. it gives the illusion of an elaborate birthmark that clients seem to love

⇢ a delicate, ornamental piece that runs along the length of his spine

⤷ glasses

⇢ wide-rimmed with sleek, black frames. only wears them when he’s reading

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ੈ♱‧₊˚ as this character is for an alternate universe, the mun has taken some creative liberties with his information. character inspirations include kafka from HSR, arlecchino and nefer from genshin impact. this is a fictional portrayal and in no way representative of the idol faceclaim.

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mbti: intj-a ; the architect

temperament: melancholy-choleric

enneagram: sx 3w4

moral alignment: lawful evil

fatal flaw: control fixation

love language:

ੈ♱‧₊˚giving: acts of service, physical touch, quality time

ੈ♱‧₊˚receiving: acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation

· · ── ༒︎༻♱༺༒︎ ── · ·

taemin moves through the world with meticulous control and restraint, presenting himself as composed, reliable, and unnervingly attentive. his affections come through with competence more than vulnerability, and his need for control and desirability causes him to treat both violence and personal relations as performances to be mastered, rather than something he can safely surrender to.

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positive:

attentive ⋮⋮ observant ⋮⋮ disciplined ⋮⋮ resourceful ⋮⋮ protective ⋮⋮ patient ⋮⋮ loyal (selectively) ⋮⋮ elegant ⋮⋮ well-mannered ⋮⋮ methodical

negative:

controlling ⋮⋮ manipulative ⋮⋮ vain ⋮⋮ self-isolating ⋮⋮ difficulty trusting others ⋮⋮ jealous ⋮⋮ holds grudges ⋮⋮ overly self-reliant

neutral:

soft-spoken ⋮⋮ keeps routines ⋮⋮ sleeps lightly ⋮⋮ notices changes instantly ⋮⋮ unnervingly good memory for small details

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likes:

specially tailored clothing ⋮⋮ expensive fragrances ⋮⋮ dim lighting ⋮⋮ late night city drives ⋮⋮ high-quality coffee or tea ⋮⋮ quietly observing people ⋮⋮ rainy weather ⋮⋮ soft fabrics (silk, linen, cashmere) ⋮⋮ crop tops ⋮⋮ slow dancing ⋮⋮ classical lit or poetry ⋮⋮ private lounges or rooftops ⋮⋮ fine dining ⋮⋮ jazz or classical music ⋮⋮ the sensation of warmth from living bodies ⋮⋮ the feeling of someone's pulse under his mouth as he feeds

dislikes:

loud, attention-seeking individuals ⋮⋮ incompetence ⋮⋮ being cornered emotionally ⋮⋮ messy spaces ⋮⋮ cheap imitations of luxury ⋮⋮ losing composure ⋮⋮ people who pry too much into his personal life ⋮⋮ owing people favors ⋮⋮ recklessness ⋮⋮ cruelty that is unwarranted ⋮⋮ wastefulness

hobbies:

playing the piano ⋮⋮ wine tasting ⋮⋮ calligraphy ⋮⋮ flower arranging ⋮⋮ watching old films ⋮⋮ clothing restoration ⋮⋮ learning languages ⋮⋮ escape artistry ⋮⋮ knife balancing

habits:

moves in silence ⋮⋮ touches pulse points absentmindedly ⋮⋮ runs fingers along glass rims ⋮⋮ memorizes names and preferences immediately ⋮⋮ listens more than he talks ⋮⋮ lowers voice rather than raises when angry ⋮⋮ always scans for exits ⋮⋮ counts heartbeats ⋮⋮ washes blood from his hands immediately ⋮⋮ watches sleeping partners

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fears:

emotional vulnerability ⋮⋮ losing control ⋮⋮ exposure ⋮⋮ helplessness

secrets:

now what could have possibly given you the idea that he'd ever share his secrets with you?

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Aurum Vitae Consortium.

There was once a time when the name alone invoked reverence among the vampiric elite, for they were the keepers of knowledge and the preservers of truth. Established in the year 1908, centuries before the Neo Rising Era, the Lee clan, an ancient, pureblood family of noble lineage whose origins predated the seventeenth century, was entrusted with the preservation of all vampiric lineage, history, secrets, and technology so that the vampiric race might endure and one day rebuild their great empire should disaster strike.

The Clan Mother at the time appointed to her most trusted scholars the monumental task of transcribing and safeguarding their people’s most coveted secrets not by pen and paper alone, but by blood.

Under her watchful eye, and through countless ancient rituals and neural grafting experiments, a new kind of archival technology was formed. One where memories and data could be genetically encrypted into the bloodstream itself and stored deep within the subconscious. She called it the Sanguine Archives, and every generation of the Lee clan thereafter inherited fragments of this Archive within their blood.

Over time, the Consortium became more than just a repository of vampiric knowledge and secrets. It expanded into one of the largest intelligence networks within the galaxy. From encrypted archives and identity registries, to private intel markets frequented by nobles, large-scale corporations, and criminal syndicates alike, they held record of it all.

Every movement. Every correspondence. Every transaction. Every crime.

Everything was recorded in their data archives.

For this, they became untouchable. They knew everything about everyone—even their own kin—and would not be persuaded into distortion no matter how much coin they were offered or how often they were threatened.

This unwavering integrity was both the Consortium’s greatest strength, as well as its undoing.

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Lee Taemin was the youngest child born to the reigning Clan Mother, Lee Haewon, and her consort, Lee Dojin. He lacked for nothing—raised beneath grand gilded halls and neon lights in comfort, indulgence, and safety. Every luxury that money could buy, his parents laid at his feet.

Yet in spite of all this, he was not a spoiled or haughty child. No, the youngest child of the Lee clan was well-tempered, quiet, and kind. He helped the housekeeper with her daily chores from the moment he could stand on his own two legs and was the first to extend a handful of coin to the homeless woman on the corner with a vibrant smile each time they passed by on their morning walks. His warmth and sincerity was a delight to his parents and all who crossed his path.

Yet even the brightest of lights can eventually be snuffed.

It was the eve of his 13th birthday. Clan members had come from all over the galaxy to the Lee estate in celebration, sharing food and drink and showering young Taemin with gifts of all kinds: expensive jewelry, tailored outfits, and precious keepsakes. His mother had just set another gift bag on his lap when the first gunshot fired.

First, silence. Then, chaos.

People screaming. Glass shattering. Bodies falling.

He remembered men covered from head to toe in sleek kevlar bodysuits displaying the seal of the Black Meridian on the left side of the chest, a bullet burrowing itself between his father’s eyes, and his mother screaming as she took his arm amid the chaos and made for the nearest unobstructed exit.

She never made it.

None did, except for Taemin.

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Following the massacre, Taemin stole away to the streets of Pharos, sleeping in decrepit alleyways and under highways and smuggled food from the dumpsters behind restaurants and shoddy looking bars, occasionally selling his own body in exchange for a place to sleep and coin for a meal.

He lived like this for three years, until he met Miss Valeria, the Head Darling* of the Black Lace Court—a highly reputable escort house in the uppermost district, where desire was currency and every smile held some sort of secret—whilst scavenging for his next meal. He’d been rather sickly at the time, running a fever that would not go down and suffering through frequent, unexplained migraines. Miss Valeria took pity on him and brought him in, bathed him, clothed him, and presented him with the finest selection of delicacies the Court had to offer. She called him beautiful and trained him in the art of elegance and seduction until he could bend it to his whim.

Through her gentle guidance and mentorship, he quickly blossomed into one of the most beloved and coveted Darlings of the Court. His smiles, practiced as they were, always disarmed, and his eyes ensnared the hearts of countless lonely patrons, drawing them into his depths the same way a siren’s lure drew sailors out to the vast sea.

Then, at 19, a wondrous opportunity presented itself to him. A regular who frequented the Court had made a request for his services—and paid triple his usual asking price.

This regular, a stoutly man ruddy in complexion, with wide shoulders and strong, calloused hands that twitched occasionally, had been eyeing him for some time. His neck was adorned in layers of gold, and he wore a finely tailored suit of black velvet.

And, both to Taemin’s delight and horror, on the left side of his chest, was the seal of the Meridian. How he’d been waiting for this day! to be in close quarters with a member of the clan that stripped him of his livelihood.

That evening, Taemin accompanied the man to a socialite gathering at the heart of the district—of which, he cared little for (he never was one for the excessive posturing at these sorts of events, finding all the attempted facades so painfully dull and in rather poor taste)—and back to his penthouse suite.

The door closed behind them with a soft click, and Taemin chest tighten. Not from fear, however. From excitement. Anticipation. Hunger.

The man had him sit on the couch and offered him a flute of champagne—Dom Pérignon Brut Rosé, he noted, after catching its scent: a mix of floral notes, glazed fruit and citrus zest, and smoky accents and cocoa—which he took but a sip of before setting the glass aside.

“Surely you did not call me from the comfort of my personal suite just to share drinks and quiet pleasantries,” he purred, dragging the tip of his finger along the inner seam of the man’s slacks. “Why don’t I cut to the chase and give you what you’re really after?”

The kiss that followed was anything but tender. Bile rose up in Taemin’s throat, but he quickly swallowed it back down, claiming the man’s mouth in a rough, consuming press as he pinned the man between his thighs. He bit down, hard, on the man’s lip until the taste of iron flooded his tongue. The groan slipped from his throat before he could stop it.

Those ugly, calloused hands found their way to his hips, fingers digging bruises into his sides, and pulled him flush. The man’s breath hitched, but Taemin used the opportunity to press in further: a devastating roll of his hips downward.

It’s slow. Deliberate. Perhaps, even cruel. The man’s head drops back, mouth agape as he moans something disgusting, and Taemin dips his head to the beautifully exposed expanse of his neck, trailing a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses from the junction at his shoulder to the pulse point just beneath his jaw. The man’s hips stutter forward, desperate and wanting, and that’s all it takes.

Taemin bared his fangs and bit down as hard as he could, tearing through the delicate flesh, shuddering as the man’s blood burst into his mouth.

It was filthy work, killing him. The man howled in surprise and anguish. He thrashed and thrashed, hands scrambling to push Taemin away, but he held fast and drank from the man in greedy, hateful mouthfuls until, eventually, the man laid still.

He returned to the Court at dawn the following morning with blood soaking his front and an air of contentment about him that unsettled even the most unshakeable of the Mercies.

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After that brazen act of unfettered violence, Taemin was brought before the head Darling of the Court. However, rather than reprimand him, Miss Valeria offered him a proposition.

“I’d like for you to be trained under Miss Solene as a Vesper*,” she said. “You’ve already done well to master the art of being desired. Now, perhaps, it’s time you learned to turn that desire into a weapon.”

Taemin said nothing at first.

Valeria continued, “The people who killed your family are still alive, you know, and—oh? why the face? Did you truly believe we’d not heard of the tragedy that befell the Consortium’s last Keepers? Darling Taemin, the Consortium was once one of our longest standing allies. Of course we knew you when we brought you in.”

Taemin snapped his head up. “You knew my parents?”

“Oh, absolutely! I would even say that your mother and I were quite close.” Miss Valeria taps a perfectly manicured nail against her tea glass. “Sisters-in-arms, if you will.”

Taemin looked down again, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. If Miss Valeria had known his parents, then she likely had information from the Consortium that would help him find and annihilate the remaining members of the Meridian.

Miss Valeria tilted her head, ruby-stained lips curling into an elegant, albeit saccharine smile. “We can help you, Taemin. Everything you could want: names, addresses, sleeping habits, hidden accounts, corporate schedules. We will place knives in your hands sharper than your grief alone could ever forge.”

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“Nothing more than your loyalty to the Court. And besides—” She leaned forward. “—I already think you rather seemed to enjoy the killing that man far more than you ought to have. We can simply give you the tools and the training to do the rest more cleanly.”

Silence lingered between them, so thick it could be cut through with a blade. Taemin would never admit outwardly that the simple prospect of slicing through the throats of every last remaining lowlife of the Meridian clan excited him as much as it did. Though Miss Valeria, it seemed, saw right through him.

She smiled again. “You will begin your training tomorrow. I will clear your schedule so you can get plenty of rest. Now, go and take the remainder of the day off my dear.”

From then on, he was trained in stealth and in secrecy. In tenderness and brutality alike. He was honed into a weapon, sharp and irresistible. From the ashes of that frightened child who had once sheltered from his past behind fine linen drapery, glittering opulence, and hedonistic pleasures rose a man of unrivaled beauty and conviction with a dangerous thirst for blood.

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additional footnotes:

The following terms are titles used among those within the Black Lace Court and will be used throughout the mun's posts from here on out.

*Darling: the term used to refer to all children (escorts) of the Court

*Vesper: escorts of the Court trained in assassinations and thievery

*Mercy: they are the healers and caretakers of the Court

*Veil: escorts of the Court trained in espionage, hacking, and intelligence acquisition

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· · ── ༒︎༻♱༺༒︎ ── · ·

✧. ┊dynamic: coworkers

✧. ┊role: darlings of the court

✧. ┊species: any

✧. ┊affiliation: the black lace court by default

✧. ┊themes present: loyalty, found family, camaraderie

✧. ┊age/gender: 20+, any gender

✧. ┊description: men and women from all corners of the galaxy who desire to find sanctuary and purpose. darlings of the court are split into four denominations, all with the same goal of upholding the court's primary tenet: "sanctuary offered through service and power derived from devotion; we are desired by many, yet owned by none."

denominations of the court:

darling: the term "darling" defines the primary role of all escorts under the court, no matter their secondary denomination (if any). they are the face of the establishment, trained in eloquence, companionship, and seduction. darlings belong first to the court, second to themselves, and never to a patron.

every darling must answer to the head darling, miss valeria.

mercy: the mercy is the healer, the companion, the diplomat. they are responsible for the overall health and safety of the rest of their brothers and sisters.

vesper: the vesper is the darling whose specialty lies in seduction and elimination, their blades as sharp as their tongues. they are as beautiful as they are lethal. only those with a strong constitution are permitted to join their rankings, and only through miss valeria's admittance.

veil: the darling veils are individuals whose specialty lies in blackmail, espionage, and social infiltration. they are the spies, the intel gatherers, the hackers. they safeguard the secrets of the court and ensure that no patron steps beyond their designated bounds.

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· · ── ༒︎༻♱༺༒︎ ── · ·

✧. ┊dynamic: regulars of the court

✧. ┊species: any

✧. ┊themes present: power imbalances, obligation, manipulation, seduction

✧. ┊age/gender: 25+, any gender

✧. ┊occupation: any. preferably of higher standing.

✧. ┊affiliation: any

✧. ┊warnings: potential for smut. this connection can also be combined with strange vices (only 1).

✧. ┊description: your face is one not unfamiliar to the darlings of the black lace court, yet it is taemin's company you oftentimes seek—captured by the radiant allure of his mere presence. perhaps it is temporary pleasure you seek. or, perhaps, simple companionship. no matter the reason, taemin indulges you every time with fleeting touches, saccharine smiles, and a sultry gaze that reeks of danger.

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· · ── ༒︎༻♱༺༒︎ ── · ·

✧. ┊dynamic: mutually obsessed situationship(?)

✧. ┊species: any, non-human preferred

✧. ┊themes present: power imbalances, obsession, manipulation

✧. ┊age/gender: 25+, any gender

✧. ┊occupation: any

✧. ┊affiliation: any

✧. ┊warnings: has the potential to be sexual in nature if agreed upon by both parties. otherwise, this is a look into the benefits and dangers of unchecked mutual obsession.

✧. ┊description: you'd met taemin once some five years ago. he was sitting alone on the rooftop of the nightclub, a cigarette burning idly between his fingers as he leaned over the guardrail and looked down at the city. he said nothing at first and yet, you couldn't help but think him beautiful under the strobing neon lights emanating from the skyscrapers.

his mouth moved then, and you never were quite sure what he'd said. but then there was heat. sharp fangs that pierced your skin. greedy hands that kept you close. a damning warmth pooling in the pit of your belly and clouding your better judgment.

you should've shoved him off and yet...

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Consider this section a "database" of headcanons, monologues, and potential journal entries. Any additional lore or personal musings for Taemin's character will be located here.

Some of these entries may contain potentially triggering topics where sex is involved. It's part of his job and part of his past, and he has an overall complicated relationship with it. Do not proceed from here if these topics render you uncomfortable.

This archive will be updated the more he develops over time, so check back occasionally.

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ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ

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ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ

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contrary to the more popular beliefs surrounding these kinds of establishments, the black lace court is one that prides itself on subverting those expectations. from its grand, gilded halls and sleek, polished floors, to the organization's beloved and most elegant darlings, the court is more than a pleasure house. it is a sanctuary fine laden with gold and secrecy that sells beauty and the sweetened illusion of fantasy, luring forth pharos city's most wealthy elite, its politicians, its peacemakers, and every other notable character who hailed from the farthest corners of the universe. to that end, a patron may observe—

—but they may never keep.

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situated in the heart of the upper entertainment district of pharos city, towering just shy of 93 stories, is a luxury high-rise apartment complex known as the starlace. it is home to some of the city's wealthiest entertainers, politicians, and business-folk. taemin himself has also made a home here, residing in one of the dearly coveted penthouses on the topmost floor.

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status: starter sent

location: cafe

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status: responded

location: blackmarket

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status: starter pending

location: lumina district/streets? (to be linked)

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status: response pending

location: widow's crown (taemin's residence)

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status:

location:

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

brief desc. of the connection/plot: it's not often that taemin finds himself fixated on blood the same way he is fine wine, but sohee's blood is, quite literally, a vial of liquid gold.

status: response pending

location: pms

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

brief desc. of the connection/plot: a reluctant friendship on taemin's part. still, sungchan is good at what he does. it's why taemin keeps him on call, despite all the headaches.

status: response pending

location: pms

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

brief desc. of the connection/plot: he met her once by accident, having saved her work report from being devoured by a street sweeper. they meet up for coffee on the occasion, but taemin wouldn't exactly consider them "friends".

status: response pending

location: pms

# data[].attributes.body
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

brief desc. of the connection/plot: it's...complicated. and very horny.

status: responded

location: pms

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· · ── ༒︎༻♱༺༒︎ ── · ·

✧. ┊dynamic: a regular patron who took an unfortunate liking to taemin (aka unrequited feelings aka thinking the stripper loves you)

✧. ┊species: any

✧. ┊themes: drama & angst, obsession, jealousy

✧. ┊age/gender: 25+, any gender

✧. ┊occupation: any

✧. ┊affiliation: any

✧. ┊warnings: none currently. there's potential here for stalking & harassment

✧. ┊description: you've been a regular to the court for about six years. like many of the court's beloved patrons, you had your favorite darlings whose time and attention you fervently sought out to quell your loneliness—taemin among them.

you know well enough that it's forbidden to form personal attachments to the court darlings and yet, when taemin looks at you with those dark, probing eyes, when he speaks to you in that quiet voice that suggests true intimacy rather than paid performance, you can't help but lament the way your heart yearns for him.

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brief desc. of the connection/plot: tba

status: response pending

location: pms (jimin's inbox)

# data[].attributes.headline
ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴇʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

# data[].attributes.subject
ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴇʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

# data[].attributes.body
TBA.

# data[].attributes.body
⋘ ʀᴇᴛʀɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ᴅᴀᴛᴀ… ⋙

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒10%

████▒▒▒▒▒▒30%

⋘ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴡᴀɪᴛ... ⋙

█████▒▒▒▒▒50%

████████▒▒80%

⋘ ᴀɴᴀʟʏᴢɪɴɢ... ⋙

⋘ ꜰɪɴᴀʟɪᴢɪɴɢ... ⋙

⋘ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴡᴀɪᴛ... ⋙

██████████100%

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

⊰══════════⊱

𝟸𝟿𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛, 𝟹𝟷𝟿𝟶

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢

𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚢𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚍: 𝟹𝟶𝟼*

Taemin perched himself atop the metal railing of the Treehouse as though it were ritual, legs swung over the only protection he had against a fifteen-story drop while a cigarette burned between his fingers, just in time to watch as the streets below came alive with strobing neon lights to welcome in the nightlife. Advertisement screens looped in the same rotations they always did, selling the same products just in different packaging, using the same vocal intonations to emphasize importance, casting the same models to establish familiarity and influence, while ever so gradually increasing the price as though profit and aesthetics mattered more than functionality and sustainability. The nightclub down below already had a line of regular partygoers out the door.

He’d done this countless times. Enough to know that the pizza parlour two blocks down actually opens its doors at 7:47 instead of 7:45 and that the owners claimed it held some sort of family significance. Enough to memorize the delay count between the flickering letters on the cinema tower. Enough to remember that one particular friend group—three girls in their early twenties. They loved to match outfits when they went out—tended to come from the northern pass unless it’s a Saturday; they usually came from the food district to the east on Saturdays.

He brought the cigarette up. Paused.

The kill hadn’t been clean nor easy; they never were where those Meridian bastards were involved. He hadn’t yet bothered to get changed, blood still painting his front in a mess of crimson and black ichor. He could still see spots in the sides of his vision, sustaining a what felt like a concentrated electric shock to the back of his head after he’d been struck by the barrel of a rifle. Feel the dull, lingering ache after having to pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. A large, ugly bruise was beginning to fester on his side, and he could still taste the blood that clung to the inside of his mouth like glue.

He took a long, slow drag.

Their original Sire might have been dead, yes, but that wasn’t enough to make them scatter completely. If only it had been that simple—Taemin would have long since done away with those archives and instead dedicated his life to the serving the Court. Instead, they elected a new successor by the end of that same month and returned anew. They were like roaches in that regard.

…

Actually, they were worse. A stain upon the entirety of the vampire race with their artificially engineered blood, neither human nor vampire, but something else. Not hybrid, exactly. Just…neither. A bunch of soulless things fueled only by their greed, their hubris, and their obsession with trying to defy the laws of fate by tampering with their mortal lifespans using the desecrated blood of the Founding Mother.

Normally, he wouldn’t care about history lessons like this, were it not for the sole fact that this very information was the reason his family had been massacred—

He exhaled through his nose, smoke gathering in the space over that dreaded drop just half-a-second before a gust came by and took it, and pressed the smoldering cherry into his left arm. He kicked his legs back over the railing and dropped back onto his balcony, depositing the remaining cigarette butt in the ashtray he kept on the miniature round table on his way back inside to clean himself up.

No wonder their blood always tasted wrong.

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* this is about 23 years old on a regular calendar

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