Only her best friend would sell out her location in exchange for three months of chores and a month's supply of Joe's Pizza. Honestly, Soojin needs to rethink Soyeon's status of best friend.

Little pieces~

The Mother formed Soojin from the clay of the Earth and promised her greatness – one day.  So why, hundreds of years later, was there still no greatness? And who, in all the worlds, was this Shadow, a trickster and vermin, who knew her sister? And why was she begging Soojin to help her?

From the moment their eyes met from across the grounds of Hogwarts, Shuhua knew Soojin was special. But it wasn’t some fairy tale romance. She was fourteen and the Champion from Liánhuā who spoke broken English. Soojin was sixteen with a boyfriend and, coincidently, a soft spot for her broken English. When Shuhua left Hogwarts, a year later, the youngest champion in the sixth ever World Wizard Tournament, Soojin humoured her with silky lips to the crown of her head to dispel t

“Life is funny. Like it has… a sense of humour that I don’t always understand.”

Chicks dig scars… right? Or maybe they just prefer when the loves of their lives don’t get shot; it’s six of one, half a dozen of the other.

The night has a tendency to illuminate another side of humanity. That said, the last thing Soojin expects to encounter is a paper plane throwing beauty who claims she stole her wish.  

The muggy air reminds Shuhua of home.

“Would it be that bad?” “No. It wouldn’t be.”

Maybe it’s wrong, but Soojin finds mild delight in watching people scurry around umbrellaless. It makes five days of carrying around the stupid thing feel mildly worth it. It makes looking like an idiot with an umbrella under the sun feel mildly gratifying. It also might make her question the sanity of other people. Case and point: Shuhua Yeh.