Tomorrow is a blur for everyone but not for her. She knows too well that her future is just a repeat of her past. Bloody. Cold. Bruised. That will be her. Will she risk to have that tomorrow again just to treasure the blink of happiness before it w...
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He had this look of longing as he gazed through the distance when he thinks no one was looking. And when he looked at me, he had this inexplicable joy as if that longing were only a flicker of my imagination.
- Memory Journal: The King's Court, page 5 -
Jungkook's melodic voice is sending her into a tranquil. For a moment, her pain is dulled. It's like old wounds, dried up and slowly healing, but throbbing and painful, nonetheless. At least, now, she can bare it and instead focus on the zings of Jungkook's touch.
She thought that having them around is a sure cure of her soul drain, but she's wrong. Instead, with their presence her soul has become more desperate. Sure, she feels the pleasure the moment they touch, but the second they let go, her whole-body tingles and that evolves overtime with a thousand prickling needles. It's not just her skin. Her muscles become rigid. Her joints become unbearably crumbling. It's as if, her entire system is slowly crippling her. Not to mention her brain becoming fuzzy and all she can think are the worst of the worst.
With her every pained groan, Jungkook hushes. His hand on her spine, soothingly caressing. Then, he continuously sings. With his voice, her tired body is lulled to an unpleasant rest. But at least, with him, she can find rest. No longer uncontrollable shuddering. Her head on his shoulders, cradled on Jungkook's arms, rocking her like an infant, her lids are getting heavy. Time ticks and his voice seemingly muffles along the humming of her body. And as she let herself drown to slumber, the song, instead of fading away, comes in clarity. But instead of his angelic voice, it's now of drums, strings, and flutes that whistles along the wind of laughter and festivities.
She opens her eyes to a place so different yet so familiar. Cloths of different colors are made canopies flowing with lanterns a glow. Dishes of every kind. Her body warm, yet her heart is cold... confused... taken aback to the sceneries of luxuries and beauties.
Funny how she's aware that she shouldn't be here, yet she should also be. It's a mystery how she recognizes everything as if she has lived this life... a life rejoiced yet abhorred.
It's a celebration. Beautiful maidens dance with such alluring grace. Each movement are like waves of the sea... like silk on the tender breeze. But her eyes are not on them, but to the crowned man at the center of the mounted stage. There's a quirk curve on his lips as he is mesmerized with the dancer's movements. But his smile doesn't reach his eyes. They look sad, more like worried, with his brows a bit tight to a knot. But it doesn't matter, as he glows with his eminence. He is too handsome, more beautiful even among the women surrounding him. It's a wonder how her heart beats as soon as she lay gaze on him. There is longing... one that she can't understand, yet deep inside she does... He is her beloved. But her heart ache in each beating. Like it's her joy at the same time her pain to see him there. Not with the young woman at his right, with the most elaborate hair, an air of might, chin lilting with elegance, regal and calculative. It hurts her more to see her sitting with him. And when she smiles and demurely laugh with something he says, lightning comes her way.
