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One x One [ the cast of DEATH. ]

Main
Here
borne from darkness \\
may i have this dance
reinaeiry
scroll
hunter.
name.
Min Paing Soe [မင်းပိုင်စိုး]
age.
twenty-eight
gender.
cis male (he/him)
dob.
November 18, 1993
pob.
Muse, Shan State
residence.
Yangon
ethnicity.
predominantly Shan, mixed with Jinghpaw, Bamar, and Han Chinese
sexuality.
closeted gay
religion.
a self-identified bad Theravada Buddhist
languages.
northern Shan (only spoken), Burmese, very shoddy English
occupation.
KYC analyst
personality type.
INTJ 3w4

height.
178 cm (5'10")
complexion.
relatively pale
build.
leanly muscular from his diligent efforts at the gym
hair.
ink-black and wavy; long enough for him to constantly brush out of his face
eyes.
deep-set and monolidded, with near-black irises and large, dark pupils that often make him look intense and contemplative
blood type.
O-
ailments.
semi-frequent ocular migraines in his right eye / cat allergy
death.
i am borne from darkness, reared in the abyss. i have wrestled with doom, clawed at its phantom neck as it strangled mine. i have sought the light -- crawled, scrabbled out of the dark until my horizon was flooded with gold. now, i turn my back to shadow and face the day. now, i hunger for the sun.
  • t13790711324s
    determined
    meticulous
    diligent
    calculating
    playful
    fanatical
    sadistic
    competitive
    resentful
    controlling
    Raised in the fringes of Shan State by a heroin-addicted father and an exhausted mother who died when he was six, Min Paing Soe appeared to be just another kid in the badlands who was relegated to doom. There was mayhem everywhere he turned in his life, in some way, shape, or form; how can a child, lacking guidance, escape the abyss he was born into?

    There are a few figures he can credit for his eventual success: his kind teachers, who dedicated themselves to the education of doomed children, many of whom never rose above the station they were predicted to die in; and his elder siblings, who, by virtue of their age and the necessity that came with it, took the bullet by dropping out of school early and working to support the family. When Min Paing Soe, the youngest of six, eventually approached the age at which none of his siblings were able to continue their education, it was insisted upon that him following in their footsteps was not necessary.

    But beyond the few beacons of light in his murky circumstances, Min Paing Soe was gripped with an unshakeable bitterness of everything he was given and an unshakeable determination to fly higher. Characterized by his exceptional ability to put his head down and work, Min Paing Soe ran away from everything he despised about himself as if death chased him constantly. And he turned this chase into a game, into his one focus, as to block out all the shit that was happening -- all the conflict, all the drug issues, all the poverty, all the deaths. This was how Min Paing Soe armored his fragile heart; he told himself that the chase was fun, that everything was just a little game the universe wanted to play with him, that one day, he would become the hunter rather than the prey. He was one of the few to graduate secondary school in his hometown, and he stood out further by going to Yangon for university -- where everything was bigger, brighter, and better.

    Now, he works in one of those big, towering buildings as a KYC analyst. Anyone would applaud him for how far he has risen, but Min Paing Soe is never satisfied -- and never will be, as long as there is still a distance to close between himself and perfection, and therefore, one to stretch between his present self and his origins.

    So when he meets Thurein Aung -- the beacon of perfection -- Min Paing Soe did what he did when he was a young child in the badlands. He looked at his surroundings with distaste, before clinging onto the stories of light he had heard and never letting go. Because if there is any one thing that can be credited as the key to his success, it's his unwavering gaze, his unmoving grip, his unshakeable vision. So if he takes it a little too far -- watching Thurein's every move, shifting every chess piece until the board looks like what he envisioned, never, never halting -- what does it matter?

    After all, Min Paing Soe has never given up.
// reared in the abyss
triples x reveriee
 
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deface my portrait \\
obsession
exo
scroll
the last straw.
name.
theo, thurein aung
age.
twenty-nine
ethnicity.
bamar-chinese
pob.
yangon, myanmar
dob.
24 august 1992
gender.
male
sexuality.
bisexual
religion.
theravada buddhism, though he has far stronger faith in its moral teachings than supernatural ones
job.
relationship manager
industry.
corporate banking
height.
177cm
weight.
67kg
complexion.
slightly tan
build.
broad and fit; the result of being an avid swimmer and water polo athlete since young
hair.
black, kept short & neatly combed back.
eyes.
a lighter brown than most. bright and almost doe-like in contrast to his other, sharper features
death.
if i am the light in your world, then wallow in darkness. if i am the meaning of life, then live without purpose. if i am the air in your lungs, then choke. hate me, scorn me. deface my portrait in your hall of memories, and dance upon the corpse of your dastardly faith. bring it to an end — your vile obsession. obsessionnnnnn
  • t13790711324s
    empathetic
    assertive
    loyal
    resilient
    ...
    inflexible
    vindictive
    prideful
    critical
    ...
    A distinct figure, constructed with crisp lines and sharp angles, brought to life by the glimmer of caramel eyes. Thurein is charming in a way reminiscent of vintage cars and city skylines against the charcoal night — a cool picture woven by sentimental threads, distant yet oddly familiar. His movements and words are as defined as his features, imbued always with a sense of purpose, elegant in their precision.

    So it is difficult to imagine that his life began in a moment of chaos, signalled by the scream of sirens. Indeed, before the accident, before that day in the hospital, before he witnessed the injuries on his mother's body overwhelm the strength of her soul, he was not truly him.

    But as grief turned into acceptance and despair into determination, Thurein Aung came into existence, created by the need for a protector, an anchor, a light for his family in their darkest times. He became stronger, took on all the responsibility, set ambitious goals he never had before. So his soft-hearted father may smile again. So his younger brother wouldn't be lost in the big world. So his mother can rest easy, and leave peacefully to her next life.

    For fourteen years now, that has been his role. Things have changed, of course, like the addition of two new members to his family. But Thurein is still strong. Invincible. Just look, people will say, at his overseas education, his high-flying career, his wide social circles. What could be less perfect? Who could shine more brightly? Why would he be unhappy?

    He shouldn't be, and that's why Thurein is determined not to let anyone know.

    He's been having nightmares, over and over, of a pair of dark eyes that refuse to stop the chase. He's been looking over his shoulder, more and more often each day. He's been doubting his own sanity, going back and forth on whether he trusts himself or not. Because he has a stalker. He knows it. But he couldn't begin to guess who, or why, or how he can make it stop.

    There is only one thing he knows for sure: he's getting sick of it. Sick of the shadow, chasing after him. It has not yet arrived, but the moment is soon. When Icarus comes too close to the sun.
// in your hall of memories
triples x reveriee
 
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the world is cruel \\
the tradition
halsey
scroll
undistressed.
name.
yamin oo
age.
twenty-two
ethnicity.
bamar
pob.
mandalay, myanmar
dob.
6 june 1999
gender.
female
sexuality.
heterosexual
religion.
theravada buddhism, mostly just because she was raised that way.
job.
model
industry.
beauty & skincare
height.
163cm
weight.
48kg
complexion.
tan, "exotic"
build.
petite and wiry, to the point that meddlesome aunties might ask her to eat more, but not to what most consider a concerning degree
hair.
kept shoulder-length and naturally curly, though she has straightened it so often that you couldn't tell.
eyes.
dark and almond-shaped, framed by long natural lashes; the point of many compliments.
death.
she rips her own heart out, so it can be stolen no longer; under the full moon, her blood-stained hands glisten, each dark drop like a precious ruby. as the taste of iron consumes her senses, she shuts her eyes. the world is cruel, and so are the people. but what a beautiful night, she laughs, to be alive. rubiessssssss
  • t13790711324s
    enterprising
    sociable
    humorous
    bold
    ...
    manipulative
    selfish
    impatient
    volatile
    ...
    Yamin has a memory, from when she was eleven years old, of a fight between her parents. In the chaos of the moment, she had failed to catch its context, but she knew that her father had done something wrong. Terrible. Perhaps even, though she prayed then for this not to be true, irredeemable.

    When he had left the room, slamming the door so loud behind him that she thought the house might come crashing down, her mother had fallen to the ground, clutching her chest like she had been stabbed. And she had cried, ugly, bitter tears, as she whispered these words to her young daughter: Never, ever, trust men, Yamin. They are all traitors.

    Yamin has decided long since then that her mother knew nothing about men, yet she still holds that one lesson to heart. Men were not to be trusted, true, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be used. And if her mother had understood that, maybe her beauty wouldn't have gone to waste in that dirty old marketplace. Maybe she wouldn't have put all her faith into someone irredeemable, given everything to such a weak, lazy, worthless husband.

    But Yamin was beautiful too, and she knew better. She knew that when she had given a glance to that well-dressed man in the car showcase, he had begun to stare at her. She knew that when she had told him she didn't want him, he had begun to want her. And, most of all she knew, that as long as she never gave up all of her, she would continue to get all of him. Because men were not be trusted, other than to be greedy, vain creatures.

    So here she is in life, with a budding career built off a pretty smile, going on luxurious vacations with a businessman who would give her anything she asked for in the blink of an eye, including the ring on her finger. And if there was a reason she was going back to Mandalay to visit her ailing father and tired mother, it was, she told herself, to tell them to their faces: see, even though you gave me nothing, I made my own future.
// and so are the people
triples x reveriee
 
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with a trembling fate \\
fear and trembling
gang of youths
scroll
unclean.
name.
Thant [သန့်]
known as.
U Thant [ဦးသန့်]
age.
fifty-four
gender.
cis male (he/him)
dob.
May 19, 1967
pob.
Thanatpin, Bago Region
hometown.
Bago, Bago Region
residence.
Mandalay
ethnicity.
primarily Rakhine with prominent Tamil ancestry
sexuality.
heterosexual aromantic
religion.
questioning nonbeliever, though he doesn't think he truly is one; raised Theravada Buddhist
languages.
Burmese, Pali
occupation.
fake Buddhist monk

height.
162 cm (5'4")
complexion.
darker-skinned with a solidly sepia-brown complexion
build.
somewhat rotund
hair.
hairless, but would be graying a little if he grew it out
eyes.
deep warm brown, hooded with prominent crow's feet
blood type.
AB+
ailments.
other than having relatively poor constitution and being prone to illness, none in particular
death.
oh, i've faced it all, fought it all, felt it all, all the joy and glum and fear and trembling, and i've decided that the quivering hand i had chosen to deny fate with was useless, utterly useless! and i've resolved that even if the balance of my fate trembles, my heart and mind never shall.
  • t12100639324s
    artistic
    unflappable
    self-assured
    carefree
    self-aware
    bombastic
    dishonest
    unrepentant
    directionless
    sybaritic
    Abandoned on the cold steps of a local monastery, an infant boy experienced rebirth for the first time.

    With only his date of birth scrawled on a note pinned to his shirt and no other information to speak of, the monks who took him in promptly renamed him Thant, meaning clean, before raising him as one of their own. Thant supposes he has nothing to complain about; there was always a warm bed, always food on the table, always a listening ear. But he also always wondered about his first life -- a life of a mere two months, a life ended by the desertion of two faceless strangers he should call parents.

    Like most children who are left behind, the clean state that was his infant psyche was unstable, long ago shattered and put back together. Thant grew up volatile and crackling at the edges, constantly asking questions that were never answered and seeking things that never sought him back. He was told his pain was inevitable, that his suffocating attachment to unconquerable things only made him suffer more, and he hated this answer, hated it more than anything. He rejected the ascetic lifestyle of the monks and chased after its antithesis.

    When it came time to leave the nest, Thant made the easy choice to abandon the way of life he was raised on. He left for vocational school, studied what seemed easy, and then got a job that was okay. But as a young man in his early twenties, Thant did what young men did best; he partied, slept around, abandoned his responsibilities, lived his life as if it were to end the next day -- the whole shebang. He tried drugs and walked the line of addiction, slept with married women, cheated on a string of lovers. Despite it all, his experimentation only solidified his beliefs, and material cravings became all he ever wanted.

    That was a life he lived for many years. Others saw him as misguided and neglectful of what really mattered, and maybe he was, but throughout all the tribulations, Thant got back on his feet and survived enough to do as he wished. And to him, the criticisms of others never mattered.

    But in his mid-30s, a financial crisis hit. Life became hard -- not that it hadn't been before, but this time it was irreparably so. He couldn't get a job at all, and from what he had seen, it wouldn't matter much if he did. And by this point, Thant (though he didn't want to admit it) was getting a little bored of his lifestyle.

    And then, a revelation struck him -- one that Thant thought was rather ingenious. The monks he grew up with never had to go on a grueling job search. In fact, they subsisted off of other people's generosity -- they never really had to struggle like he did. His first thought was to become a monk, which was immediately shut down. But then, he thought, why not be a fake monk? All the benefits, none of the faith required. Boom -- done.

    And so, Thant spends the next, long phase of his life living in blasphemy, subsisting off of the donations of tourists or faithful Buddhists without much guilt at all. He still indulged far too much, but this new stage of life granted him a grander understanding of the world he ever could've expected from choosing to be a sinner. He spoke with many people, heard many stories, seen many things. Strangely, he matured, perhaps developing a mindset that some of the more open-minded monks would be proud of.

    And eventually, he let go of the anger, and the muddled fear that hid behind it. Eventually, his heart steadied.
// and a steady heart
triples x reveriee
 
suns and comets collide \\
contrail
moonmoon
scroll
starry-eyed.
name.
Khin Sandar Moe [ခင်စန္ဒာမိုး]
nicknames.
San Moe [စန်းမိုး] (preferred) / Moe Moe
age.
fifteen
gender.
afab nonbinary (they/them)
dob.
June 5, 2006
pob.
Yangon
ethnicity.
half Mon, half Bamar
sexuality.
asexual
religion.
"Buddhist, I guess?" (they don't really think about it, but their mom is pretty devout, so it's easy to default to that answer)
languages.
Burmese, pretty good English
occupation.
high school student

height.
165 cm (5'5")
complexion.
warm tan-brown
build.
just "average" -- not particularly skinny, but not quite overweight, not particularly muscular or delicate; naturally broad-shouldered
hair.
naturally a dark and dusky brown; recently cut short and dyed some sort of soft magenta-peach ombre xx
eyes.
double-lidded and round, with naturally deep brown irises; however, they have a condition that resulted in the slight drooping of their eyelid, a shrunken pupil, and the lightening of the iris in their left eye
blood type.
B+
ailments.
mild asthma / congenital Horner's syndrome
death.
they, like all others, were born to the collisions of suns and comets and stardust, to exploding satellites of a billion miles away, to a still, dark night. they laughed; what an entrancing entropy! and so the earth spun and waltzed across the cosmic ether, their gaze never wavering from the pale moon.
  • t13492530324s
    ambitious
    inquisitive
    imaginative
    friendly
    altruistic
    melancholic
    dismissive
    quixotic
    stubborn
    easily bored
    When San Moe was a child, they wanted to fly.

    To grow wings like those of a great roc, to soar into the endless blue up above by only the beating of the appendages on their back, soar until they flew into the white sun, like a god, like Icarus. San Moe, like any child, dreamed, and like many, the fancies that captivated them at night were those you would only find in fantasy books. Sometimes, they would be a bird. Sometimes, a dragon, a fairy, a griffin. Sometimes, just a winged human. But always, they would fly.

    Like any child, they outgrew their fantasies. Like any child, their make-believe world had to meet its end times.

    But still, San Moe wants to fly.

    To soar into the boundless black of the night, soar by stars and moons, soar into the never-seen-before. San Moe dreams of rockets and spacesuits, of moon rocks and stardust. Ever since they were young, they knew they wanted to be a space explorer, and never once have they wavered on this vision. One day, they insist, all their studies will pay off, and they'll be able to go to a reputable university overseas. And after that, they can leave their home behind and go to a big country with a growing space program. After that, they will explore the skies.

    Though the people around them easily commend them for their drive and achievements, all of them croon at the sight of this silly child and shake their heads pityingly. For humans cannot fly, much less humans like San Moe, second child of a Burmese family that barely scrapes by.

    But San Moe has always been driven, unwavering, dismissive of anything that dares to deter them. No, they say, everyone is wrong. Everyone says that humans cannot fly because that's what they've been told and tell others, because they have never tried, because they have never tried hard enough.

    They are wrong, San Moe whispers weakly, under the wavering light of an old lamp, in the late hours of night. Everyone is wrong, they insist, pressing their pencil against their notebook as they solve another equation. They are all wrong, San Moe repeats as they stare at the latest exam result rankings -- always in the top ten, never in first.

    They are wrong, they say again, and this time, San Moe thinks that they're talking about themself.
// in a still, dark night
triples x reveriee
 
the dawn always breaks \\
i knew you were trouble
taylor swift
scroll
in a maze of regret.
name.
may myat noe linn
age.
forty-three
ethnicity.
mon
pob.
mawlamyine, myanmar
dob.
22 december 1978
gender.
female
sexuality.
heterosexual
religion.
theravada buddhism, she is a fairly devout follower, more so now than in her younger years.
job.
accountant
industry.
construction
height.
152cm
weight.
55kg
complexion.
warm, brown
build.
slightly overweight and chubby or, as her younger kids prefer to call it, perfect for hugging
hair.
dark brown with a russet tinge under certain lights, kept long and often worn in a low bun which hides its frizziness and split ends.
eyes
downturned and double-lidded, with a kind, clear quality to them that almost succeeds in distracting from the dark circles underneath.
death.
the dawn always breaks what the dusk settles. the sun always rises, the darkness always lifts, and the morning will always come with the chirping of birds. there is always hope, or so they say, in another day. but the basis of tomorrow is that yesterday must be left behind — and what of those who don't dare? morninnnnnnnnnng
  • t13790711324s
    generous
    affectionate
    detailed
    patient
    ...
    self-doubting
    reticent
    sensitive
    gullible
    ...
    She had five sisters, all close in age. People were always confusing one for the other, forgetting their names, and whenever they got anything, it was inevitably shared, until none of them even knew the original owner was. Perhaps it was from there that her faith in her own mediocrity, her dire lack of a sense of identity began — perhaps she was doomed from the very beginning.

    From average looks to average grades, Myat Noe floated through adolescence like a ghost through a Victorian hall, never leaving much of an imprint on anything or anyone. Friends came and went from her life and, even at home, it felt like everyone was more tightly-knit to each other than they ever were to her. Her voice — her opinions, her troubles, her dreams — went unheard, and she found that eventually it faded away, like an echo reaching its muted end.

    By all, she thought, except for one person. Under his attention, she felt her existence for the first time. She felt irreplaceable, like a unique person rather than one of many, and she felt like, finally, here was somebody that would only be hers. So she left her family for him.

    She forgave him even when he slapped her the second time. She spent months and even years tolerating him, because she was so terrified that letting go of him would mean letting go of everything that she was and had. And it was only when he left her, baby in her arms with nowhere to go, when she sat on the cold floor of the temple and cried, that she realized how wrong she was. She promised herself, then, that she would never make that mistake again. That she would never put her faith in such a terrible man.

    Long story short, she broke that promise. Her second husband turned out to be as terrible as the first, and this time it took him hitting her daughter to bring her to her senses. Being fooled twice means the shame is on her — and with four children & an urgent need for a divorce lawyer, how is Myat Noe ever going to recover?
// what the dusk settles
triples x reveriee
 
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