Jin knew before the words were even fully out of his mouth that Moon-ssi would not accept them. He worried the young yanban would get angry with him again and braced himself for the rebuttal but Moon-ssi was surprisingly logical with his response. Jin blinked big, owlish eyes at him. He didn’t want to get into another argument either.
As the gentle question resonated between them, Jin let it turn over on itself in the air until each sound might have floated so far from the others it wasn’t even a real sentence anymore. He didn’t have a good answer anyway. Dropping his chin into his chest, Jin fidgeted with his robes. They were damp at the edges from where he’d fumbled around in the snow. “I just can’t,” he mumbled, ignoring the question about when he'd last eaten altogether. Because it wouldn’t taste as good, some nasty voice in the back of his mind supplied unhelpfully. Jin wouldn’t dare utter that aloud however. Firstly, because it was gross, and secondly, because it was also rude to Moon-ssi who’d brought him this meal specially from home. Jin didn’t want to risk offending him.
The coppery taste of blood still lingered somewhere in his consciousness. It was smooth and silky and tasted like nothing he’d ever had before. He didn’t need it to live, obviously since he’d only just had it for the first time, but he also felt the tug of it simmering under his skin. Like an addiction yet to reveal the worst phases of withdrawal. Jin was scared of what would happen if he continued to so indulge. He wasn’t sure if Abeoji would make him do it again, but he also couldn’t stomach the idea of anything else. Jin eyed the warm bowl again. “What if… my tastebuds are ruined now?” he heard himself ask quietly. “What if nothing tastes the same anymore,” because I always know that there’s something better out there.
As the gentle question resonated between them, Jin let it turn over on itself in the air until each sound might have floated so far from the others it wasn’t even a real sentence anymore. He didn’t have a good answer anyway. Dropping his chin into his chest, Jin fidgeted with his robes. They were damp at the edges from where he’d fumbled around in the snow. “I just can’t,” he mumbled, ignoring the question about when he'd last eaten altogether. Because it wouldn’t taste as good, some nasty voice in the back of his mind supplied unhelpfully. Jin wouldn’t dare utter that aloud however. Firstly, because it was gross, and secondly, because it was also rude to Moon-ssi who’d brought him this meal specially from home. Jin didn’t want to risk offending him.
The coppery taste of blood still lingered somewhere in his consciousness. It was smooth and silky and tasted like nothing he’d ever had before. He didn’t need it to live, obviously since he’d only just had it for the first time, but he also felt the tug of it simmering under his skin. Like an addiction yet to reveal the worst phases of withdrawal. Jin was scared of what would happen if he continued to so indulge. He wasn’t sure if Abeoji would make him do it again, but he also couldn’t stomach the idea of anything else. Jin eyed the warm bowl again. “What if… my tastebuds are ruined now?” he heard himself ask quietly. “What if nothing tastes the same anymore,” because I always know that there’s something better out there.
![[Image: HjIYkam.png]](https://i.imgur.com/HjIYkam.png)
* Jin takes potions and enchantments at times to give his voice a persuasive quality.
His performances, or even a simple conversation, can sometimes suggest thoughts
and ideas to his audiences.