Blazes of Glory

Yun-Jin had thought she’d seen the worst of it.

From debt collectors in her early life, to men who thought they were entitled to everything because they gave you the time of day later in life, to… one particular man who held power over life, there wasn’t much more that she thought would annoy her, or break her. That was her first mistake; a mysterious fog had taken her hostage, away from should have been certain death, to death over and over, surrounded by not many people worth her time. She’d worked with a lot less before, of course. But this most certainly wasn’t ideal.

She sat on the log with her knees touching, the tip of her heel digging into the dirt with a boredom that ate away at her in the forefront of her mind, a quaint anxiety taking a nibble from the back. She watched loose grass flick some distance away as her shoe came out of the dirt, sighing as she crossed one leg over the other, looking up to the street racer sitting some distance away, with a click of her tongue and a slight wrinkle of her nose.

She didn’t know what to think of her - Yui was her name, wasn’t it? - entirely. On one hand, she was a woman with a committed aesthetic, a certain confidence and bravado that made it no task to wonder how she was surviving in a place like this… on the other, Yun-Jin did not care for the brashness and the anger that she seemed to exude. Was it because it was irritating to her, after years of dealing with bullheaded managers with the same mannerisms… or was it because it was like looking into a mirror at points, at a less than polished reflection staring back?

“So… do you have other ways to entertain yourself, other than making people nervous with the way you stare?” She cut the silence rather harshly, resting a hand on her leg as she did so.

She scoffed slightly, moving to cock her head at a slight angle as she looked the other woman up and down, lips pursed into the frown. “Not that there’s much of a view up here regardless.” Yun-Jin sat up straight, brushing her hand along her lap, to the specks of dust and ash that had made their way there. There was a foul taste in her mouth from the way she was acting, but it was hardly a persona, at least, not anymore - this was her first wall of defence. And if it worked in the industry, which had been more cutthroat and ruthless than anything she’d ever known, then she’d be a fool if it did not keep her safe here, where the cutting of throats seems a lot more literal.

“But… if you really care to know… I did have hobbies, at one time. I doubt you’ll be able to find a working piano in this shithole, though.” A huff escaped her, closer to an exhale of air than an actual laugh. She never had much time to practice, between all the demands of being a producer, but there were moments of solace, in the dark, just her and a melancholy melody, perhaps a voice to go along with it… perhaps maybe two. Her throat tightened at the thought of that man, fist-clenching on her lap. Not now, don’t think about him now. He’s not worth even that.

She cleared her throat, shuffling a little where she sat, trying not to seem too happy too hear of a piano in a hellhole like this, though she wasn’t sure how well that came across. There was some relief, in the normalcy, though hearing that such a device of comfort was stuck somewhere so far in the past troubled her a bit. Was that even allowed? Yun-Jin still did not know nor fully understand all the rules of this place that she now lived in, however far from the earth and the life she had once known.

But she swallowed, and tried to remain as stone-faced as she could. “Ah, yes. Music producer, South Korea. Quite… prolific. And good at my job. At least, that’s what the number tell me.” She’d made bad choices, yes… many bad choices, in fact. But there was no denying the money and fame she’d acquired from her title - the clothes she wore and the jewellery she adorned told anyone that much, and the penthouse that she now missed when sitting beside the pathetic looking campfire would have done the same. Yun-Jin leaned forward, folding her arms on her lap and letting her wrists hang limp as she looked over to Yui again. “And… yourself? I don’t want to be rude with my first assumption, so I will allow you to have the first word.”

Yun-Jin looked her up and down, nodding to herself - that was about what she expected, at least some type of racer in the field. She certainly looked the part, and it suited her just fine, in both appearance and personality. ...They really weren’t so different, were they, wearing their profession that they loved so dearly on their sleeves, living and breathing it as if it were their last moments alive… and it was, in the end. “I can imagine. You don’t look like the type to give up easy.”

She ran a hand up and down her arm, through the fluff of her coat, nails running against the synthetic fur for some form of comfort. Her initial discomfort with the other woman was proven wrong, and she wasn’t sure if that was for better or worse - she perhaps liked it better when she thought everyone else was incompetent and she could only rely on herself, not when the people here had actual traits and personality she could find herself liking, if only for the need to have someone there, despite her apprehension after the last time she trusted someone. “Well, Yui, how… long have you been here? In this hell, I mean. You seem… much more content about this situation than I.”

She looked down at the hand offered to her, pausing for a moment before realising how judgemental that would have seemed to an outsider looking in, before she swallowed and took it with her own, gently, shaking it and holding it for not a moment too long. Social graces still held substance here. That was at least something she knew how to tango with. “Yun-Jin Lee. I… heard someone else talking about you, I think.” That was the justification she used, and one she thought most likely. Since she’d arrived here, there wasn’t a conversation that she’d initiated herself, aside from… this one. She always listened. Formed her own evaluations, that all came to the same conclusion - no one was worth her time, and she could only watch her own back here. Everything was out to get her, even her own friends - or, ‘friends’ - they just didn’t know it yet.

But she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

She moved to hold her own hands in her lap, pressing a thumb into her palm as she thought over the answer she was given. Up to a year, spent in hell… perhaps more, if the weariness of some of the other survivors were to go by. And yet, the racer continued to press onwards, despite it all… yet another trait the two of them shared. Keep going in the face of adversary… even if it puts you in a worse spot than before. That, at least, was a little comforting. “I suppose it’s… reassuring, to have someone like you here. For everyone else, I mean. Some people are barely holding it together. If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re keeping them all afloat.”

A source of gossip, perhaps ire? Yun-Jin knew that notion all too well, and she was guilty of such a thing herself among her peers. Talk badly about someone else before they could about you, make them look bad before you lost your ground. Skank, stupid slut, fake, whore, she probably bought her way in so high. Fouler words have left her mouth for people who probably did deserve some ridicule than someone like Yui.

Of course she was a leader. She carried herself like one, at the very least. An aura of intimidation, if Yun-Jin had seen one - and she had, from men who did not deserve their positions of power, due to incompetence or… other reasons. She was far from that life now, for better or for worse. She felt like she was in better hands here, to an extent. From some people more than others - the snivelling runt they called a leader came to mind. She didn’t care if he dropped off the planet and someone like Yui replaced him. If anything, she’d praise whatever god there was out here.

As for herself? The producer almost laughed. “Oh hardly. I’m sure I’ve scared most of them off by now… I work better on my own, regardless. Rely on others has put me in… less than favourable positions before.” She brushed a thumb against the inside of her finger, the pressure of the touch causing the skin of her fingertip to whiten, though her face remained blank, relaxed, even. It always came back to him, it was his fault… just as much as it was her own.

She half-laughed at that, more an amused exhale of breath, leaning back where she sat. "Oh god, don't I know it. You give a man an ego, and he thinks he has the world, when he barely owns a pile of dirt. It's ridiculous." You give an idol a solo career, and he spits on the ground you walk on as he drags his heels in blood you helped spill with your silence. Yun-Jin swallowed, ignoring the tightness in her chest at another reminder she'd brought upon herself. She told herself she didn't care, so why did she keep coming back to that horrendous mistake? ...Well, because she was a liar, of course. She always had been. A thumb moved to rub against the back of her fingernails, looking at the way the polish was already beginning to chip. A sloppy image. A literal interpretation of the facade beginning to crack. She couldn't have that.

And then the racer offered her a date.

Yun-Jin paused in her thoughts, the small, mocking smile she'd forced falling momentarily as her eyes flickered up from her hands, to Yui's face, and then away again. Yui had shown herself to be witty, to be a lot softer around the edges than she'd originally thought - she was certainly no savage, selfish adrenaline junkie, that was for sure. The producer tried not to take note of the way her stomach twisted at the notion, only making it worse in the process as she tried to jump through mental hurdles not to make it seem obvious that she was... almost scared of the notion. This woman did not know her beyond who she presented herself as - at least, not enough to justify such a notion. Surely she'd come to regret it if they ever got the chance... Yui was a good person, surely. But Yun-Jin? She wasn't anything close.

But still, she huffed a laugh of disbelief. "If you can find somewhere with a drink to knock me on my ass, I'll... consider it. I'm sure we'll need it, after the hell we've walked through.”