⁝ im residence.

@❁ im seohyang "Indeed, that was a fair question," Insoo acknowledged, a melancholic undertone lacing his words. Nostalgia draped over him like a familiar cloak as he pondered. When was the last time they indulged in such unhurried discourse, or relished the simple joy of sharing tea after a day's adventures? Lost in thought, Insoo absentmindedly hummed, his gaze fixated on the delicate dance of tea leaves within the pot. Time slipped through his grasp like grains of sand, prompting reflections on the passage of years and the evolution of their relationship.

"It might astonish you to know that tea is abundant aboard the ship," Insoo interjected, breaking the silence with a hint of reminiscence. Pouring chamomile brew into delicate cups, he imbued each with the essence of shared history and unspoken emotions. "There was a time when I tired of it," he confessed softly, his eyes distant with memories of distant horizons.

Seating himself beside her, Insoo offered a cup with a tender smile. "We had a special blend, hibiscus tea," he recalled, the aroma invoking visions of the ship's galley. "It became a ritual, essential for survival. Reject it, and risk fading away from the absence of vital nourishment. So, yes, I've brewed countless pots while at sea."

As they sipped their tea, the fragrant steam mingling with their thoughts, Insoo's attention returned to her inquiry. "It has been some time since I last slumbered on solid ground," he confessed, a hint of longing in his voice. "The rustle of leaves, the cry of birds—they are distant memories. At sea, our bed feels adrift, untethered. Sleep eludes me."

Turning his gaze to hers, he posed a question of his own. "Could it be the events that transpired?"

@❁ im insoo Seohyang has been acquainted with the sea. There are times where she’d visit the shore of their neighbouring county, and stand within the boundaries of the land and water. A smile would rest on her visage as she’d run away from the touch of the waves. But when it caught her, taking along the sand beneath her feet, she would think of her estranged brother. How the sea took days, months and years away from them.

She had written to him as soon as she had learned how to. Folded papers bearing a variation of news from happiness to loss…her very growth, from a small little sister he last saw her as to a grief-stricken young adult, were documented yet none were replied to. Their father would assure her that no news is good news. Perhaps, the letters, too, were lost on their way to him. She only prayed that when a word from the sea reaches their family, it would not be of another loss.

In the midst of her debut did he return. He–no–they had changed as if they were back to when Seohyang was first brought to the Im household. Yet she was beyond grateful her brother came back home. Safe and sound.
She had attempted to mend the broken bridge that bonded them, but her own walls that she built became an obstacle she had to climb. Fearful that whatever she would say would push him away, like it did with their older sister. Hence, when his genuine laughter echoed throughout the room, it gave her hope that this bond could be salvaged.

There was genuine curiosity in her question, so when Insoo laughed and in return, she let a fleeting frown appear to make her annoyance known. “It has been years since I have seen you making tea!” She watched as her brother moved to refill the kettle, continuing with a softer voice.“I have yet to hear the details of your years at sea and if you ever made tea while on board.”

At his query, her gaze returned to her wounded hand. What would little Seohyang say? She wondered inwardly. Everything and anything she has in her mind. She missed how unapologetic she was with her thoughts and feelings, and Insoo would receive it all. Should she be as honest as she was back then?

“Yes,” Seohyang answered with a nod. It wasn’t simply the waking world, to be honest, that haunts her with images of the incident. She feared, should she fall asleep, another image–a different loom of shadows–would be in pursuit of her. “I thought chamomile tea would help ease me into a dreamless sleep. So, please, make the tea well, orabeoni.” The younger mirrored his teasing smile.

After a short pause, she returned the question to Insoo, “And you? Are you having trouble sleeping, too, orabeoni?”

@❁ im seohyang As Seohyang uttered her grateful words and referred to him as 'orabeoni' once more, Insoo felt a wave of relief sweep through him, dispelling the niggling worry that had nestled in the recesses of his mind. During his prolonged absence, his thoughts often drifted back to his roots, to the connections he had forged in this place. The sea had claimed much of his time, and he feared it might have snatched away the threads binding him to his past.

In those quiet moments at sea, he pondered if his extended voyages had eroded the familiarity between them. Had he, by his absence, inadvertently disrupted the easy camaraderie they once shared? There lingered an unspoken fear that perhaps, upon his return, the comfortable rapport they had woven over the years would have frayed beyond repair.

His return to shore had been uncertain, an apprehension that gnawed at him as he approached familiar faces and places. The reassurance he sought lay in the warmth of recognition in Seohyang's voice, in the unchanged affection laced within her words. It was a testament to the resilience of their bond, a reminder that amidst the ever-changing tides, some connections stood unwavering.

Still, a faint trace of doubt lingered. Despite her gracious acknowledgment and the use of that endearing term, a part of Insoo couldn't help but wonder if there was truly nothing left in this place that he could firmly anchor to his past. The landscape might have shifted in his absence, leaving him adrift in the currents of change.

He sighed inwardly, silently grateful for Seohyang's unwavering kindness, yet a small ache persisted—a yearning for the familiarity that once defined his existence here. He longed for something tangible, something that would bridge the gap between the person he used to be and the one he was now. However, for now, he found solace in the genuine warmth of her gratitude and the comfort of her familiar address, hoping that perhaps, in time, he would find his mooring in this altered world.

Insoo knew what she was doing and he let her. Despite the visible emotions in her eyes, her attempt to alleviate the heaviness was endearing. With a soft chuckle escaping his lips, he felt a rare sensation bubbling within him—a genuine sense of mirth that radiated from his chest, spreading warmth through his being. His laughter echoed in the room, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he savoured the moment.

"Do you doubt my tea-making skills now, Seohyang-ah?" he retorted, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. Her light-hearted query was a balm to the sombre air that had enveloped them moments ago. Insoo rose from his seat, a determined yet teasing expression on his face as he reached for the kettle, intending to fill it with water once more.

"By the way, isn't it a bit late for you? Trouble sleeping?"

@❁ im insoo When silence resumed to follow after her offer, Seohyang turned back to the kettle with pursed lips. Her right hand remained uncooperative as the pain persisted but as she changed to her left hand, Insoo's voice steadily broke the heavy silence. Without looking his way, she shakily filled more water in the kettle with her left hand as she muttered, "I will submerge it in cold water soon..."

The younger trailed off when Insoo extended his hand towards her. Light brown eyes met its darker shade as Insoo silently asked for consent to lead her back to the water vessel. The resolve in her older brother's eyes to offer her assistance equally matched her insistence that she was fine. The younger had kept similar moments like these in her childhood memory. Moments when Insoo readily extended his hand towards her younger self whenever she needed him. Her heart would swell in relief, fortunate to have an older brother to hide from the big world.

Another sentence of reassurance halted at the tip of her tongue as she relented, entrusting her wounded hand in her brother's. Silently, she followed his lead to the earthenware and let Insoo submerge her hand in the water. The kitchen remain in deep silence as Insoo left, Seohyang unable to ask what he was planning to do next. In his brief absence, she stared at her injured hand. The coolness of the water fought the heat of the burn. It gradually tamed the fire as the remedy took effect.

Soon, Insoo came back with a stool for her. The tears she held back earlier threatened to fall at Insoo's tender voice. His action and words were like a much needed soothing pat on her head. Her jaw clenched as she fought it, blinking hard to chase it away. She wiped away a stray tear with her good hand before clearing her scratchy throat. "Thank you, orabeoni."

While she made no excuse for her glassy eyes, she attempted to take off some weight from the heavy silence. "But, orabeoni, you do know how to make tea, right?" she asked with a lighthearted tone despite her raspy voice.

@❁ im seohyang Amidst the raucous clamour echoing within his mind, the resounding inner voice urging him to draw near and extend a helping hand, Insoo found himself rooted at the door. It was instinctive that he knew too well when his presence may not be welcomed. It was evident in Seohyang’s swift, self-reliant actions, the slight retreat of her shoulders in a subtle gesture of independence, and the rapid stream of reassuring words that effortlessly flowed from her lips — that it was nothing Insoo could help with.

But once again, an insistent pull tugged at the depths of his conscience, reminding him that right before his eyes, she remained the same girl he had cared for before setting sail for the boundless sea. In those bygone days, she had been small and fragile, her tiny hands scarcely capable of holding a kettle. Yet, even now, as the years had bestowed upon her the mantle of maturity and wisdom, Seohyang still appeared diminutive in his eyes, a testament to the enduring image of the sister he left years ago.

Insoo's gaze remained fixed on Seohyang's hand, his eyes narrowing with concern as he watched the persistent tremors coursing through her delicate fingers. His brows knitted together in a deep furrow, and his jaw clenched with a mixture of distress and determination. It was only fitting that he helped her out despite the thick shroud of awkwardness that hung between them. With a voice filled with unwavering resolve, he remarked, "I fear a mere cloth wouldn't suffice to ease the pain of such a burn."

As he drew nearer to her, his eyes silently sought her consent as he extended his hand toward hers. Without words, he guided her towards the earthenware vessel where she had earlier immersed the thin cloth, and together, they dipped their hands into the cool, beckoning water. His soft but reassuring voice broke the silence that enveloped them, "Remain here and keep your hand submerged."

With a measured but unspoken understanding, Insoo retrieved his hand from the soothing water, his footsteps echoing with the weight of his intentions as he departed briefly from Seohyang's side without much-spoken words. Upon his return, he cradled a wooden stool he found tucked underneath the work counters. He lowered it gently to the ground, positioning it thoughtfully beside his younger sister.

"Take a seat," he said tenderly, his voice a soothing balm, "This will take a while."

@❁ im insoo the sudden entrance of a figure startled seohyang, causing her to jump slightly. she had not expect anyone to be awake, however, after making sure everyone had fell asleep, let alone come rushing in after hearing her mishap. she cradled her right hand over her chest, meaning to hide the burn as she expected the person to be her father. her tensed shoulders dropped slightly in relief as insoo's voice broke the silence.

"i- i'm alright," she answered, her voice wavering slightly. seohyang moved to find cloth to dip into water stored in one of the kitchen onggis, to soothe her hand. "it's- i burnt my hand a little," she added, almost dismissively, although her attempt to downplay it was betrayed by the winced that flickered across her face as she tended to her reddened hand. the cloth she had found wrapped around hand after soaked in water, cooling her hand slightly. 

her gaze shifted between the kettle on the floor and insoo. the traces of panic obvious in his face and she was compelled to reassure her older brother once more. "i'm fine, really." she attempted a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "i'm sorry for scaring you," the younger apologized as she moved to pick up the kettle.

seohyang had lost count how many times she had directed an apology to insoo ever since his return to the house—to hanseong. while she had been looking forward to seeing her brother again, the many changes and loss in between their reunion caused an obvious rift with their bond. especially as compared to seohyang who simply shared his surname, he most likely took the same stance as soohyang who shared the same blood as his. further more, the aftermath of the incident caused insoo to accompany seohyang anywhere she would go, under orders from their father. it caused her to constantly think just how much of a burden she is now to many, to her father and to insoo, in particular.

hence, though they were family, she felt an apology is always in order.

but there is always the whispers from the younger self inside her—one that remembered of insoo's caring gestures to child seohyang—that missed the older brotherly side of insoo. seohyang, too, had many questions of the world outside of joseon and his life at sea she'd like to ask but decided to contain it, never having the right timing to ask without the heavy rock of burden tied to her heart. "i will only be making tea then return to my room. you. . .don't have to watch over me," she told him as she continued to make her tea, though it proved a little incovenient to mke given her injured hand. seohyang paused, before turning to insoo, wondering if he had been awake because he could not sleep, too. ". . .would you like me to make a cup for you, too, orabeoni?"

@❁ im seohyang restlessness gripped insoo as he lay in the unfamiliar bedding, staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom that only lasted for the early seven years of his life. the room seemed to close in on him, its walls whispering secrets in a language he couldn't comprehend. every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind against the paper walls encasement of the room, felt like a painful reminder that this was never a place he could call home.

the dim light filtering through the hanji door painted strange patterns on the walls, casting eerie shadows that danced to their rhythm. insoo’s heart echoed that rhythm, quickened by the disconcerting atmosphere that enveloped him. he to his side, attempting to find comfort in the cocoon of blankets, but the fabric felt foreign against his skin, almost as if it were conspiring against his rest.

the capital outside was far from silent – distant, hushed whispers and calls of animals provided a constant background buzz. insoo realized that the sounds were different, the rhythms unfamiliar, a symphony of a place he had yet to understand.

rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling again. memories of the sea, which he knew so well, flashed before his eyes. the usual sounds he’d heard in the crew’s quarter, the comforting predictability of his surroundings, tugged at his thoughts like an anchor. everything that should have been a familiar reminder of who he was came to be new, uncharted territory that unnerved him.

with a sigh, he swung the blanket aside and stood up. insoo walked to the door, drawing it open to reveal the courtyard bathed in astronomical twilight. he stepped out into the crisp night air in his nightwear, his earlier restlessness replaced with a need to walk away. insoo found himself drawn to the paths nestled between the buildings. and as he continued the stroll, the imminent thought left hung in the back remainder of his thoughts simpered in — he truly knew no more of this place he called home. the tight walkways between buildings, the well and the trees should have blended his senses with memories. yet, there was none.

lost in his thoughts, insoo was suddenly jolted back to reality by a faint clanking sound and a hushed whimper. his heart raced for a second as he instinctively followed the source of the sound; his pace quickened. turning a corner, insoo noticed a fleeting light inside one of the buildings. he recognized it as the kitchen, and the panic gripped him tight as he burst through the door.

amidst the haze of the adrenaline rush, he spotted a lone figure standing by the stove, the culprit of the sound on the floor: a kettle and spilled water. he could barely make up the face of the figure, but the familiar features he had seen during dinner were all he needed for certainty. “seohyang, are you alright?”

@❁ im insoo tw! description of blood (put it just in case!)

when the night was most quiet is when seohyang's incessant thoughts whispered louder. on some nights, she let herself go through the night and only falling asleep as the warmth of morning sun seeped through. on others, like tonight, she wished to sleep, a dreamless slumber. the young miss rose from her bed, carefully sliding her chamber door's open. she head towards the kitchen and gathered tools to make tea that would, at times, ease herself to rest.

as she waited for the water to boil, seohyang stared at her hands. though both were perfectly clean, images of it tainted red remained carved in the back of her head. the desperate pressure she put over lady chae's wound lingered on her palms, her handkerchief changing colours within seconds then. the youngest of the ims took in a sharp intake before she let out a whimper, closing her eyes from the remnants of the mortifying scene.

enough, she silently begged as she brought both her hands over her closed eyes. she could feel tears welling but she refused to cry tonight. she pulled herself up in a swift movement, focusing on making her tea. though she should have remembered the pot of water had simply come to boil. heat flared in her skin as soon as she touched it. a small yelp escaped her, the pot put back precariously on the stone stove.

the heat took her by surprise, clearing her thoughts, including the immediate action she knows should take, as she cradled her right hand.

[post deleted by owner]