Asena had only stepped away for a moment. The festival had become overwhelming in the way public events often did, too many conversations, too many obligations, too many people wanting something from her. Even here, surrounded by music and celebration, her phone remained in her hand. Emails filled the screen. Questions from her office. Requests from community leaders. Deadlines. Expectations. Responsibilities. It never ended. Asena stared at the glowing screen near the photo booth and answered one message, then another. The work had followed her everywhere for so long she no longer remembered what it felt like to truly be off the clock. Somewhere along the way, she had stopped questioning it. This was simply who she was. The dependable daughter. The successful attorney. The district attorney. The woman people called when they needed something solved. The woman who always had the answer.
The explosion shattered the night.
The sound ripped through the festival so violently that it seemed to shake the ground beneath her feet. Her head snapped up. For a second, nobody moved. Then came the screaming. Smoke rolled across the festival grounds as panic spread through the crowd like a wave. People ran. Someone shouted for help. Someone else cried. Asena lowered her phone slowly, her pulse immediately quickening as instinct took over. Something terrible was happening. She reached for her phone again, already thinking about emergency response, already thinking about what needed to be done, because that was what she always did. Fix it. Control it. Handle it.
Then she heard the crack. A sharp sound somewhere behind her. Pain exploded beneath her shoulder blade.
The force drove through her so suddenly that her body didn't understand it at first. Her breath vanished. Her legs stumbled. Her hand flew toward the source of the pain instinctively. When she pulled it away, it was covered in blood. Dark. Wet. Too much. For a moment she simply stared at it. She had seen blood before. Crime scenes. Victims. Evidence photos. But never like this. Never hers.
No. The word came immediately. Not fear. Anger. Pure, stubborn refusal. No. This wasn't happening. Not to her. Not here.
Asena staggered forward, trying to stay upright. Trying to force her lungs to work. Trying to think. She needed a hospital. An ambulance. A phone. She needed to stand up. She needed to stay conscious. She had too much to do tomorrow. A hearing next week. A fundraiser next month. A reelection campaign to prepare for. Emails that still needed answering. There was always something waiting for her tomorrow. Tomorrow had always existed. Tomorrow was where she put everything she couldn't deal with today. Tomorrow she would rest. Tomorrow she would figure things out. Tomorrow she would call her siblings. Tomorrow she would make time for herself. Tomorrow she would finally stop surviving and start living.
The ground rushed up to meet her.
Her head struck the pavement hard enough to send white-hot pain through her skull. Darkness clawed at the edges of her vision immediately. She fought it. God, she fought it. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to stay awake. Stay conscious. Stay in control. She had spent her entire life forcing herself through impossible situations. She could force herself through this too.
Couldn't she?
The world came back in broken pieces after that. Smoke. Sirens. Shouting. Heat. The taste of blood. Every breath felt wrong. Every breath felt smaller than the last. She thought she saw someone above her. A shape moving through the blur. A voice saying something she couldn't understand. Asena tried to focus on them but her eyes wouldn't cooperate. Her thoughts wouldn't cooperate. Her body wouldn't cooperate. The realization filled her slowly, horribly.
She couldn't fix this.
For the first time in her life, there was no answer.
No amount of intelligence. No amount of preparation. No amount of discipline.
Nothing.
The anger finally began to crack.
And beneath it was fear.
Real fear.
Not fear of pain.
Not fear of embarrassment.
Fear that there would be no tomorrow.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Then another.
Because suddenly all she could think about was her mother.
Not the polished memories people carried after someone died. Not the grief she had learned to package neatly and carry around like a briefcase. She remembered her mother's laugh. The way she brushed hair from Asena's face. The way she made her feel seen. Not smart. Not gifted. Not promising. Just seen. Defne had looked at her and found a daughter where everyone else seemed determined to find a project. A responsibility. A future investment. Asena thought about the phone call she never answered. About choosing freedom for one afternoon. About Dilan calling and calling and calling while she ignored it because she didn't want her trip interrupted. Because she didn't want to go back. Because she thought there would be time later.
There was always supposed to be a later.
The guilt she'd carried for six years suddenly felt enormous. Childlike in its simplicity.
She blinked slowly and for one horrible second she thought if she looked hard enough, her mother would be the person kneeling over her. Mama. The word nearly left her mouth. Then the figure moved and became a stranger again.
I want my mom.
The thought drifted through her mind so softly it barely felt real. Not District Attorney Şahin. Not the gifted child. Not the woman who argued cases in courtrooms and stood behind podiums. Just a daughter. Just a scared little girl lying on cold pavement wishing her mother would tell her everything was going to be okay.
A sob escaped her.
She thought about Dilan. Her brother. The distance she'd allowed to grow between them. She thought about Antonio. She thought about all the conversations they never finished. Every "later." Every "when things settle down." Every promise they never actually made because neither of them was brave enough to ask for them. About Kiana. She thought about Kiana telling some terrible joke. Something painfully unfunny. Asena had groaned and told her to stop. Kiana had looked entirely too pleased with herself the rest of the evening. About friends she hadn't called enough. About conversations she assumed could happen later. She had spent twenty-nine years moving happiness further down the road. After law school. After the next promotion. After the next election. After she fixed this problem. After she met this obligation. After everyone else was taken care of. There was always a tomorrow waiting patiently in the distance where she would finally get her turn.
What if tomorrow never came?
The thought broke something inside her.
"I don't want to die," she whispered, tears sliding freely down her face now.
Not because she was afraid of death.
Because she wasn't finished.
Because she hadn't had her turn yet.
Because she had spent her whole life believing there would be more time.
Her eyes searched desperately for the blurry figure above her, unable to make out a face. She didn't want to be alone. Not now. Not like this. The darkness swallowed more of her vision. Her body felt impossibly cold. Somewhere in the distance, sirens continued to scream while the festival burned around her. And as consciousness finally began to slip away, Asena's final thought was not about her career, her reputation, or everything she had achieved.
It was the devastating realization that she had spent her entire life postponing happiness for tomorrow, and now tomorrow was no longer guaranteed.
"well, i didn't know if there would still be any competition between the two of us considering you're my date for tonight?" savannah questioned, arm in tow with the other girl as they walked around the event. truthfully, having scout by her side was the perfect distraction from everything else that was going on. she almost hadn't even gone out, but was convinced by the other. it would be good for her, right? "is the rest of this festival boring you if you're not looking at me, huh? i was thinking we could get into some trouble if you were interested?"
Scout nearly tripped over her own feet at the word date. It hit her harder than it should have. Date. Not hanging out. Not two coworkers wandering around a festival together. A date. Heat crept up the back of her neck, and because Scout Wilder would rather launch herself off a bridge than sit with that feeling for too long, she immediately covered it with a grin. "Whoa, whoa, nobody said anything about competition ending." She pointed dramatically at Savannah with the hand not hooked through her arm. "Just because you're my date tonight doesn't mean I'm gonna go easy on you, blondie." Her gum snapped loudly. "Besides, if I stop looking at you, it's only because I'm scouting out opportunities." The smile on her face turned mischievous. "And by opportunities, I mean crimes. Minor crimes. Fun crimes. Festival crimes." Scout leaned closer as they walked, shoulder bumping Savannah's. "You know, we could absolutely rig one of those carnival games. Or steal one of those giant stuffed animals without actually winning it. Or convince people we're celebrities and start signing autographs." Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she rattled ideas off. "I saw a dunk tank earlier. We could definitely get kicked out of that. Maybe start a fake betting pool. Maybe convince a child I'm secretly a princess." She laughed at herself, shaking her head. "Actually, scratch that one. Kids are scary." For a moment, her gaze drifted back to Savannah, lingering a second too long before she caught herself. "But if you're asking whether this festival would be boring without you?" Scout smirked, trying very hard to play it cool. "Yeah, probably. Don't let it go to your head, though. You're already pretty enough without becoming insufferable too."
Jason was waiting for the rest of his drink order, a beer already in hand when Dilan's sister found him. He knew what this was right away. From the second he turned his head at the sound of his name. The tone. The warmth. The smile she wore like armor. It landed exactly where it was aimed. Not a punch. Not even a quick jab. Just enough pressure to let Jason know that she wasn't here on accident. That she had come over with a purpose. And that the real focus here wasn’t even him—not really.
"My deal?" His shoulders lifted into a broad shrug. "Don’t really got one. What ya see is what ya get." He paused and then, "But good to meet ya." Jason switched his beer into his left hand before extending out his right—inked, scarred, and bruised but held out without threat. "Ya got a name, Dilan’s sister?"
Asena's smile widened slightly as she looked at the hand he offered. The scars, the bruises, the ink. Interesting. Very interesting. Most men either tried too hard around her or became nervous the second they realized who she was. Jason seemed content to do neither. That alone made him stand out. She accepted the handshake without hesitation, her grip firm but polite. "Asena Sahin," she introduced smoothly. "Though I suppose I should be offended that you've managed to spend time with my sister without properly introducing yourself to me." Her tone was light enough to make it clear she wasn't actually offended. Not much, anyway. She released his hand and folded her arms loosely across her chest, studying him with open curiosity. Dilan had always had a kind heart. Sometimes too kind for her own good. It made Asena protective in ways she rarely admitted aloud. "You know, the two of you make a very cute couple." The compliment came easily, though she watched his reaction closely. Observing people was second nature to her. "So tell me, Jason." Her head tilted slightly. "How did you meet?" There was genuine interest beneath the question. She had already done some digging of her own, enough to know he was far more complicated than the easygoing man standing in front of her now. But information gathered on paper and information gathered from a person's own mouth were rarely the same thing.
she lifted her cup a beat too late, a moment after it would've been a good response to asena doing it. rosa felt like she was always playing catch-up, and half the time she was unsure what she was even catching up to. she took a gulp of her drink that was entirely too big and coated her throat with alcohol. it didn't make her any braver, it just made her this tiny bit more frustrated that none of this seemed to come to her easily. but then asena confessed that she felt out of place too, that rosa had miscalculated when she had assumed asena floated around the place with ease. it had been practiced. which seemed a little ridiculous, because for as much as asena might've spent twenty minutes trying to figure out what to wear, she still looked effortlessly beautiful.
"m-maybe i should get better at pretending," rosa said, shrugged as though she wasn't stuck on this notion that she couldn't now. if it had taken asena years, it only meant that rosa was once again years behind, playing catch-up once more. "d-does anyone know you're only pretending?" because rosa felt like it would be read in her face the moment she tried, whereas she had watched the way asena navigated the crowd, and hadn't seen her stumble once.
"i think throwing axes would be a little life-changing," rosa argued half-heartedly. "we don't get to -- to do it often, you know? we should let out some rage and threaten some passerbys while we're at it, e-even." the words left her mouth with an uncharacteristic dryness: she was trying to make a joke.
Asena stared at Rosa for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. "How old are you? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?" she asked, already waving a hand dismissively. "Trust me, that's a skill that comes with time and practice." Her mouth curved slightly around her drink. "Early twenties me was a menace. Not in a fun way either. Just... aggressively convinced I was the smartest person in every room." Which, admittedly, was still a problem she occasionally suffered from. She just hid it better now. Her gaze drifted toward the crowd again. "You learn how to wear confidence before you actually feel it. Eventually people stop questioning it, and after a while you stop questioning it too." The question made her smile widen slightly. "Does anyone know?" Asena echoed. "No. That's sort of the point." There was something almost catlike in the satisfaction she took from that answer. If people could see the effort, the uncertainty, the calculations, then the illusion failed. Appearances only worked when nobody noticed them being built. Her attention followed Rosa's toward the axe throwing booth, and surprisingly, she nodded. "You know what? Let's do it." The idea of hurling sharp objects at a target suddenly sounded therapeutic. "Frankly, a little rage relief sounds amazing right now." She laughed softly at Rosa's joke, shaking her head as she started heading in that direction. "Threatening passerbys does sound lovely. Unfortunately, I think intimidating civilians with an axe might hurt my reelection campaign." A beat passed before she glanced sideways at Rosa, amusement dancing in her eyes. "But I do like the way you think. Maybe that's why we're getting along."
A look of profound bewilderment crosses his face. The conversation unfolding in front of him sounds alarmingly less like an intervention and more like a disagreement between colleagues. Alas, it'd be helpful if someone could clarify if he was still being robbed.
Take the wallets, don't take the wallets. "Do not take the wallet." Heads turn. Christian clears his throat. "Or anything else, for that matter."
The men eventually leave, without showing any sign of remorse, and she continues speaking as though there exists some invisible threshold of visible weath beyond which robbery becomes a foreseeable consequence. "You're quite right. Next time, I'll be sure to wear a potato sack," he mutters harshly under his breath, picking up his belongings, one by one, with mounting irritation. The endless precautions that had seemed paranoid when he was younger now returned with the unpleasant weight of a prophecy fulfilled.
He smooths a thumb across the cuff of his sleeve, a pointless adjustment made for the sole purpose of occupying his hands, and allows his attention to settle fully on the girl once more.
"There's something I don't quite understand." The words emerge measured and precise, though the effort behind them is easier to spot than he would prefer. "It appears you know them." And who was Valentina? "How, exactly? They listened to you. Surely you can understand why I find that difficult to reconcile with the role of concerned bystander."
Scout stared at him for a second like she genuinely could not believe what was coming out of his mouth. Her mouth actually fell open before a laugh escaped her, sharp and disbelieving. "Oh my God, you're serious." She dragged a hand down her face before pointing at him. "I just saved your ass and you're filing a customer service complaint." The gum between her teeth snapped loudly as she shook her head. "You know what? Forget the robbery. The real crime here is whatever upbringing convinced you this was a normal way to talk to people." She looked him up and down again, taking in the expensive clothes, the expensive watch, the expensive attitude. "You are the most out-of-touch asshole I've met all week, and I work around drunk rich people for a living." Scout threw her hands up dramatically. "Like, genuinely. I'm impressed. It takes effort to have this little self awareness." Her eyes narrowed. "And aren't you a little old for this? What are you, pushing forty?" She tilted her head. "Thirty-five? Thirty-six? Somewhere in that range and still wandering around a crowded festival dressed like a walking investment portfolio." When he questioned why the men listened to her, Scout blinked once before gesturing broadly at herself. "Look at me." She spread her arms. "I'm cute, I'm young, I'm relatable, and unlike you, I'm not acting like an asshole." Her grin widened. "Well. Not unless somebody earns it." She popped her gum again before continuing. "I also fight dirty, hold grudges, and know how to make people regret inconveniencing me." There was a mischievous spark in her eyes now. Scout shrugged one shoulder. "And I'm semi famous in certain circles around town." She waved a hand dismissively. "Not your circles, obviously. Yours seem boring as hell." Her gaze drifted over him once more. "Also apparently very muggable." She pointed toward where Todd and Liam had disappeared. "And for the record, they weren't my friends. If they were my friends, they would've robbed you faster. They're just people I know. There's a difference."
rosa hadn't been enjoying the crowds. it wasn't a sticking point as much as it was an observation that ebbed and flowed; she wasn't on edge, she was simply uncomfortable. and every now and then, that feeling was harder to swallow down. asena might've caught her at the wrong moment, just as rosa's hands were empty and her plans weren't carrying her elsewhere, so she'd been left just standing there and taking in the crowd as though it wasn't formed of people, but only existed as an overwhelming collective.
"um," she said, the movement a little frantic as she turned to asena. she took the drink, hand hovering mid-air for a moment as she tried to figure out whether it was truly intended for her. a faltering smile on her face, she nodded as if to thank the woman. "b-both. can it be both? i think i'm surviving. i want to enjoy myself. you look like -- like you fit right in, though."
Asena's expression softened slightly as she watched Rosa fumble for the drink. "Both is an acceptable answer," she said dryly, lifting her own cup in a small gesture before taking a sip. Her gaze drifted toward the crowd. Children running between booths. Couples wandering hand in hand. Groups laughing loudly enough to be heard over the music. It all felt a little overwhelming if she was being honest. "You think I fit in?" Asena let out a quiet laugh. "Rosa, I spent twenty minutes standing in front of my closet trying to figure out what people wear to a summer festival." She glanced down at herself before shaking her head. "I don't like crowds. I don't like bumping into strangers. I don't like standing shoulder to shoulder with people who insist on breathing directly into my personal space." Her nose wrinkled slightly. "It makes me uncomfortable." The admission came easily enough. Not vulnerability exactly, but honesty. She offered Rosa a small smile. "So if it helps, I feel a little out of place too. I just spent years getting very good at pretending otherwise." Her eyes moved back toward the festival grounds before she sighed dramatically. "Though apparently we're supposed to be having fun. I still haven't figured out what that means here. Do we throw axes? Win stuffed animals? Eat something fried? What's the activity everyone keeps insisting is so life changing?"
Cassie has been trying to keep up with who ever Damian was talking about. But he was a little preoccupied by his popcorn. He was hungry and it’s the only thing he has. He was able to pay attention by the mention of divorces Damian saw coming. “That’s kind of not fair to assume they won’t fix whatever’s going on between them.” He didn’t really like the idea of saying if someone’s going to have a failed marriage or not. “You’re right though. Nosey neighbors are more observant than most people. But you being like this shows that you’re a good cop.” Cassidy didn’t mind Damian leaning on his wheelchair. He actually liked when others did it because it gave him a sense of closeness. Which was weird since strangers always found ways to lean on his chair. “I guess I can talk about when someone sounds like they’re lying just by the sound of their voice, but you told me not to.” He understood what Damian was saying. Neighbors were professional nosey folks. At least his were. “There was one time my neighbor observed my high school boyfriend sneaking multiple times into my room. My parents never noticed until they said something. Another time they looked at a new neighbor and immediately called that the husband was cheating with the nanny. It was true.” Those were the days of having a nosey neighbor. “But you’re not wrong. I think you’re right.” He shrugs his shoulders and looks at the crowd while eating his popcorn. “Want some?” He asks, holding it above his head for Damian.
Damian immediately reaching into the popcorn bucket Cassidy held up. He stuffed a ridiculous handful into his mouth before continuing anyway. "Mmph. Mhm. See? This is why I keep you around." He chewed for a second, swallowed, and pointed at him dramatically. "You make me sound less judgmental. That's important for my personal growth." Damian listened as Cassidy talked about the neighbors and immediately looked delighted by every detail. "See? That's exactly what I'm talking about! Those people are terrifying. You could put your neighbor in witness protection and somehow they'd still know who they're dating six months later." He shook his head. "The boyfriend thing is crazy. Your parents are asleep at the wheel and meanwhile Mrs. Johnson next door is conducting a full scale surveillance operation from behind her curtains." He grabbed another piece of popcorn and leaned comfortably against the wheelchair again. There was something easy about being around Cassidy. He witnessed firsthand people either got weird about the chair or over thought every interaction. Damian had bulldozed straight through that phase about five minutes after meeting him. "Also, don't think I missed that compliment." A grin spread across his face. "Good cop. I heard it." He tapped a hand dramatically against his chest. "That's going in my permanent record." His attention shifted back toward the crowd. "And for the record, I still think you should use your voice reading superpower for good. Not police work, because apparently I've been informed that's unethical." He gave Cassidy a pointed look. "But maybe helping me figure out who's about to confess their feelings at this festival. That's basically public service. Cassidy, I need the drama."
Tatianna was a few drinks in, enough to not notice the man tailing her. But when she did a double take and caught her eye, she couldn't help but wonder. She hadn't seen him since the night in the book store and honestly, she could use another distraction for a couple minutes. Slowly approaching, she held a sly smile on her lips, "You know, That wasn't even a thought in my mind, to be honest." She said as she came to a stop just in front of him. "The first thought that came to my mind was that you were checking me out." She teased him lightly before she turned and ordered two lemonades. "It's on me." She said with a smile as she took them and held one our for him. "Now back to your following me, are you sure my husband said to keep an eye out on things or an eye out on me."
Thomas had been relieved for exactly three seconds when Tatianna approached him smiling instead of accusing him of following her. Three whole seconds. Then her next sentence hit him like a freight train. His entire body seemed to lock up. Checking her out? Thomas blinked. Once. Twice. His brain immediately supplied several pieces of evidence that did not help his defense whatsoever. He had noticed the yellow outfit. He had noticed it suited her. He had noticed she’d looked happy for a little while. Those were normal observations. Observations were part of paying attention. That wasn’t checking someone out. Was it? His mouth opened before his brain caught up. “The yellow looks nice on-“ Thomas immediately stopped speaking. His jaw snapped shut hard enough to click. A look of mild horror crossed his face. Great. That certainly hadn’t helped. He stared at the lemonade she offered like it might somehow rescue him from the conversation. “Thank you, ma’am,” he muttered, taking the cup.
The second question was somehow worse. Thomas looked at her. Then at the lemonade. Then back at her. His loyalty pulled in one direction while her eyes pulled in another. He didn’t like being caught in the middle. It made him feel like he was failing somebody. “Mrs. Santoro…” he started carefully. Then stopped. Started again. “I don’t like lyin’.” The admission came honest and simple. His brow furrowed while he searched for words that wouldn’t betray Antonio. “Your husband asked me t’ do a job.” That much was true. “And I take my jobs serious.” Another truth. Thomas shifted awkwardly on his feet. Tatianna was persuasive in a way he didn’t fully understand. Most people either ordered him around or left him alone. She somehow managed neither. “I can’t tell you everythin’ he says t’ me.” His voice softened slightly. Apologetic. “Wouldn’t be right.” He took a sip of lemonade before adding, almost reluctantly, “But I ain’t tryin’ t’ bother you neither.” His eyes met hers for a brief moment. “I’m just doin’ what I was told.” Then after a pause, because Thomas could never quite stop himself from being honest, he added quietly, “And you’re real hard not t’ pay attention to.” The second the words left his mouth, he looked like he regretted them immediately.
eddy had quickly lost track of his 'date' and had slowly decided to try and have some festival fun alone, with some help from the flask he concealed in the pocket of his shorts of course. he got something to eat, had a couple of tries on the various game booths, with the can shooting being a particular favorite, but after trying and branding the entire thing a fix he staggered off, and went to stand in a more open spot, looking around for a familar face, until he heard an even more familiar voice.
turning his head he looked at damian. his usual typical resting bitch face forming into a more cheerful smirk. "it's a scam, man." he scoffed "annie fuckin' oakley herself couldn't make those cans fall. but whatever, i guess the guy has to make money at this thing somehow." he paused, pulling the flask from his pocket, not caring that he was speaking with a cop, never stopped eddy before "why? you trying to win a stuffed panda? you don't strike me as the teddy bear type, officer." he smirked, before taking a swig.
Damian recognized him immediately. Not personally, but from work. Rift Valley wasn't exactly a place where faces stayed unfamiliar for long. Still, today wasn't about arrests, reports, or paperwork. Today he had a mission. Specifically, winning a ridiculously oversized prize for Presley. And unfortunately, the game booth operator seemed personally invested in preventing that from happening. "You know, that's exactly what somebody says after they've been defeated by a carnival game," Damian shot back with a grin. He folded his arms and looked toward the booth with narrowed eyes. "I'm choosing to believe it's skill because the alternative is admitting I've already spent way too much money over there." His attention dropped to the flask before he shook his head with a laugh. "Bold move, by the way. Most people at least pretend to be worried when a cop's standing next to them." At the mention of the stuffed panda, Damian pointed toward Presley without missing a beat. "For your information, the panda is not for me." His voice carried the kind of mock seriousness usually reserved for official police business. "I've made promises, man. There's a beautiful woman here expecting me to win her something, and I can't just walk away from that." He glanced back toward the game booth, determination settling onto his face. "What kind of man would I be if I quit?" A beat passed before he grinned again. "A man with an extra fifty bucks in his pocket, probably. But that's not the point. The point is I'm winning that panda if it bankrupts me."
presley didn't make a habit of going out publicly with her clients, but damian had quickly become one of her favorites. she glanced over at him and laughed before taking in her surroundings. she knew it was an odd time to be celebrating, with death still hanging over everyone in the mc, but distraction was in her nature, and there was no better place to find it. "you know, you clean up pretty good." she told him, her hand running across his exposed chest. "this look is definitely doing something for me."
Damian looked down at her hand against his chest and immediately grinned. He'd never been particularly good at hiding when a pretty woman got his attention, and Presley definitely had his attention. The compliment landed harder than he wanted to admit. He'd spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear today after all. "Yeah?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. "That's good to hear, because I was aiming for somewhere between ruggedly handsome and festival heartthrob." He glanced down at himself before looking back at her. "I was worried I accidentally landed on divorced dad at a barbecue." His laugh came easily as they continued walking through the festival. The lights reflected in his eyes while he stole another glance at her. She was stunning. She always was, but seeing her outside of the Peach Pit felt different somehow. More real. Less like she was on a stage with everyone fighting for her attention. "For the record, you're making me look way better than I actually do." His smile softened into something more genuine. "I still can't believe you said yes when I asked you to come. I figured I'd spend the day getting rejected and eating funnel cake by myself." He nudged her shoulder lightly with his own. "Which would've been tragic, because now I get to walk around with the prettiest woman at the festival and make everybody jealous."
summer kickoff festival | @asinsilkytragedy (Damian)
zahir had barely made it halfway through the festival before spotting a familiar form. seeing damian always brought a strange mix of pride and concern. the kid reminded him of himself before the job had worn down some of the edges. “sinclaire.” he approached with an easy grin, hands settling on his belt out of habit. “tell me you’re off duty for at least part of tonight.” the festival lights reflected off the badge clipped to damian’s chest, and zahir shook his head slightly. “you know, when i was your age, i thought i had everything figured out too.” his expression softened with amusement. “turns out i was wrong about most of it.” he glanced around the crowd before looking back at him. “how’re you holding up with everything? don’t give me the official answer. give me the real one.”
Damian's face lit up the second he spotted Zahir. He lifted a hand in an enthusiastic wave before making his way over through the crowd. Between the music, the food stands, and the festival atmosphere, he looked entirely too happy to be standing anywhere near work. His badge was clipped on more out of habit than necessity. "I am off duty," he said immediately, pointing a finger at Zahir as if defending himself in court. "Mostly. Like eighty percent off duty." He paused. "Okay, maybe seventy-five. But I'm here to party. Responsibly. In a law-abiding manner." His grin widened. "Somebody's gotta set a good example." Damian gestured vaguely toward the crowd around them. "Besides, it's a festival. People are having fun. Nobody's actively on fire." He lowered his voice slightly. "And I've got a total babe on my arm that I'm trying to impress, so I can't spend the whole night acting like a patrol officer." The words came out with absolutely no shame attached to them.
At the lecture, he stared at Zahir for a second before laughing outright. "Oh, come on. You say that like you're ninety." He shook his head. "You're supposed to be giving me vague mentor wisdom. Something mysterious. Not admitting you had no clue what you were doing either." The question made him pause, though. His smile didn't disappear, but it softened around the edges. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out across the festival for a moment. A small shrug followed. "I don't know. Some days I feel like I'm doing great. Then another body drops, another family gets hurt, and it feels like the city takes two steps backward for every step forward." He glanced back at Zahir. "I still think we're gonna figure it out. I know that's probably the annoying optimistic answer you expected from me, but I mean it." His expression grew a little more thoughtful. "I guess the hard part is realizing that wanting to help isn't always enough. Nobody really tells you that when you're starting out. You think if you care enough and work hard enough, things get fixed." He let out a quiet laugh. "Turns out the universe didn't get that memo." A grin slowly returned as he nudged Zahir's arm. "But hey. I'm still standing. You're still standing. The town hasn't burned down yet. So I'm calling that a win for today."
open to: damian ( @asinsilkytragedy )
location: summer kickoff festival
"i probably haven't said this before. but thank you for moving here with me." and she meant it. while she had zahir there. having damian there with her meant the world to her. she had been so nervous moving there at first. to move there to find sal. and the fact that damian had come, it meant everything. he was also one of two people she wanted to introduce to sal as well. "maybe sometime today, i can introduce you to sal."
Damian nearly choked on a piece of popcorn. "Thalia," he said, staring at her for a second before shaking his head with a laugh. "You don't gotta thank me for that." His expression softened immediately. For all his joking, there wasn't much he wouldn't do for her. When she had first told him she was moving across the country, he had spent about five minutes pretending he was going to stay in New York before he started looking at transfer opportunities. That part had always felt obvious to him. He tossed another piece of popcorn into his mouth and shrugged one shoulder. "You're my sister. Where else was I supposed to be?" Damian glanced out at the festival crowd before nudging her lightly with his elbow. "Besides, New York had enough cops. Rift Valley gets one incredibly handsome patrol officer and suddenly property values go up." The joke came easily, but there was genuine affection underneath it. "Seriously, though. I'm happy I came. I got you, I got Zahir, and somehow nobody's gotten tired of me being around twenty-four seven yet. I'd call that a win." At the mention of Sal, his eyebrows lifted with interest. He heard about Sal already. Not because Thalia had sat him down and given a presentation or anything. "Yeah?" A grin spread across his face. "I'm definitely game for that." He crumpled the empty popcorn bag in his hand. "Honestly, I'm game for whatever today. I just want us to have a good day." His smile softened as he looked at her. "And if introducing me to Sal is part of that, then absolutely."
Swishing strawberry ringlets over her shoulder, Sawyer goggled in disbelief after coming face-to-face with a lens she'd been primarily unaware of. It wasn't unfamiliar to feel as if eyes were following her, after all, she'd spent how many years plastered on the screens of numerous? It simply came with the territory, but at the male's atrocious accusation, a gasp of faux incredulity fluttered past cherry frosted petals. "Please, if anything, I made whatever mediocre shot you got worth some decent change." With measured movements, her frame twists just enough to allow her to peer over at said lights. An almost giddy laugh escapes, mocha hues rolling. "Oh yeah, if that was the shot you were going for, make sure to take down my name and thank me later." Her tone is teasing, finally revealing she's just as amused as he is. Sawyer simply fancies turning everything into a bit of a game.
Damian glanced down at the camera screen, trying, and failing, not to grin. The shot was objectively good. The afternoon sun caught her hair just right, the festival colors blurred behind her, and somehow she'd managed to look like she belonged in a magazine spread while doing absolutely nothing. Not that he had been specifically trying to photograph her. Mostly. "Wow," he said, shaking his head. "You know, most people would've thanked the photographer. You're out here demanding royalties." His tone was light, teasing right back. He turned the camera slightly so she could get a better look. "Okay, yeah. I hate to admit it, but you've got a point. That's a pretty great shot." Damian paused for a second before offering his hand. "Damian, by the way. I'm still pretty new around here." There was a familiar feeling sitting in his chest now that he was actually talking to her. It was weird. He'd seen her on television for years. Growing up, she had been one of those people who felt larger than life, someone everybody knew even if they'd never met her. Standing here now, though, she was just... a person. A ridiculously pretty person, but still a person. He looked back at the photo and nodded. "Seriously, though, this one's good. You can have it if you want." Damian held up the camera. "It's got that whole effortlessly cool festival vibe people spend three hours trying to fake on Instagram." A laugh escaped him. "I was taking some area shots, but I'm not gonna pretend you didn't improve the scenery quite a bit."
Kiana could feel this persona, this mask and person she pretended to be, slipping through the cracks the more she got to spend time with Asena. But what would that mean to them? She was certain Asena was more in sync with the fake part of this agreement than not, so what was Kiana supposed to do, right? She would keep the facade and act like she wasn’t giving up on her freedom for someone who wasn’t going to feel the same for her. End of story. Ah, fuck… but when Asena spoke, it was like feeding a bait to sharks. ❝ Hm? Oh, yeah, I do agree with her. ❞ Kiana said when someone asked if she agreed with Asena or not. Too bad the Chef hadn’t been paying attention properly, otherwise she would’ve given a better response. ❝ I mean, happy wife, happy life, right? ❞ Shit. They weren’t married. Kiana didn’t even know if they would end up getting there. ❝ Not that we’re there yet, but I’d better start practicing, right, Senn? ❞ Her hazel hues found the DA’s and Kiana offered her a smile. She could’ve sworn she saw a hint of a rescue request in the other’s eyes, so hopefully, she wasn’t wrong as she leaned over and kissed the side of Asena’s head and gently squeezed her hip. ❝ Speaking of happy, I’d better find something for us to eat. You’d hate to see her when she’s hungry. Excuse us. ❞ Kiki then guided her girlfriend away from where they were and started walking towards some of the food court area. ❝ Sorry about the wife thing. I don't know where did that come from. I was half paying attention to him, so I hope I didn’t screw anything up for you. ❞
Asena allowed herself to be guided away without protest, one hand resting lightly against Kiana’s arm as they escaped the conversation. The summer festival was exactly the sort of thing she normally avoided. Too many people. Too much noise. Too many opportunities for strangers to decide they suddenly deserved her attention. She had spent twenty minutes deciding what to wear this morning before finally settling on a tennis dress because, apparently, that was as casual as her wardrobe knew how to be. The entire event had been tolerable for one reason, and that reason was currently apologizing beside her. The corner of her mouth twitched upward despite herself. “Kiana, if that is your idea of screwing something up, I should bring you to every public event I attend.” Her tone was warm with amusement. “That was one of the most genuine things anyone has said to me all day.” She glanced sideways at her, studying her briefly. Asena was still learning where Kiana ended and the performance began. She knew some tells now. The little pauses. The moments where something honest slipped through before Kiana could catch it. This had felt like one of those moments. “Besides,” she continued lightly, reaching over to smooth an imaginary wrinkle from Kiana’s sleeve, “you rescued me from a conversation about municipal tax incentives. If anything, you deserve a medal.” A soft laugh escaped her as they approached the food vendors. The scent of fried food and barbecue drifted through the air, and for the first time all afternoon, Asena realized she was actually hungry. “Now, speaking of important matters,” she said, looping her arm with Kiana’s, “I am starving.” Her eyes moved across the food stalls before landing back on Kiana. “And seeing as you’re the chef, I’m placing my life in your hands. What am I eating today?”
"do you want me to be honest?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at her cousin. leyla was good at being honest for the most part with people. if someone wanted the honest truth, she would give it to them. "no, you honestly don't." she replied. and it was the truth. her cousin didn't look approachable. "you don't even looked relaxed too." she pointed out. another thing she had noticed the moment her cousin walked over. her cousin needed to relax. and at least try to have some fun. "you need to relax. loosen up a bit too." it was a summer festival. not a court room. or her office. after everything that had gone on, today was about having fun.
The sigh that escaped Asena was dramatic enough to earn a look from anyone nearby. Unfortunately, Leyla was right. Relaxed was not a word anyone had ever used to describe her. Composed? Certainly. Confident? Frequently. Intimidating? More often than she cared to admit. Relaxed, however, felt like a foreign language. Her gaze swept across the festival grounds, taking in the crowds, the games, the children running around with sticky fingers, and the overwhelming amount of noise. “You make it sound so easy,” she complained lightly, crossing her arms. “Relax. Have fun. Loosen up. As if I can simply schedule that between meetings and court appearances.” Still, there was no real bite behind the words. Leyla was one of the few people who could get away with saying things like that to her. Asena trusted her enough to tolerate honesty she would have dismissed from anyone else. She glanced sideways at her cousin before looking back out at the festival with obvious skepticism. “Alright, fine. Let’s pretend I’m willing to participate in this little social experiment.” Her lips curved into a faint smile despite herself. “What exactly is fun around here?” Asena asked, gesturing broadly toward the festival. “Because from where I’m standing, I see questionable carnival food, children with too much sugar in their systems, and at least three opportunities to get sunburned.” The teasing was familiar, affectionate. After a beat, she nudged Leyla lightly with her shoulder. “You’re the festival expert. Impress me. If I’m going to spend the day pretending to be a normal person, I need guidance.”
When the girl appears, relief arrives in a small, reluctant wave. Not enough to settle his nerves, but enough to loosen the tight grip panic has maintained on them. Finally, a witness. Then, she speaks. The confidence in her voice catches him off guard. More surprising still is the reaction it provokes. The men hesitate. Their momentum falters. The atmosphere changes. For reasons entirely unknown to him, they seem willing to listen to her. Christian has already surrendered everything of value on his person. The only thing he refused to part with was the gold ring. After everything it had taken to recover it, the thought of losing it for good is almost unbearable. “I hate to sound impatient,” he says flatly, “but if you possess some miraculous authority over these people, I would greatly appreciate seeing it exercised and my belongings returned.”
Scout had been halfway through telling Todd and Liam exactly how pathetic they looked when Christian decided to open his mouth. Her head immediately snapped toward him, dark eyes narrowing in irritation. “Oh, good,” she said flatly. “The hostage found his attitude.” The gum between her teeth popped loudly as she looked him up and down. Even roughed up, he still looked expensive. Like somebody had dropped a trust fund into the middle of a county fair and acted surprised when people noticed. “You’re not exactly in a position to be making demands right now, pretty boy.” The words came out sharp, but her attention quickly shifted back toward the two men. Todd and Liam both knew that look on her face. It was the same one she got when a customer got handsy with one of the girls or when somebody started trouble inside the club. Scout wasn’t particularly big, but she was mean enough to make up for it. “Seriously?” she asked, spreading her hands. “You two are grownass men jumping one guy at a summer festival.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “What happened? You couldn’t find somebody your own size?” Todd muttered something under his breath. Liam laughed. Scout took a step closer anyway. “You both know if Valentina hears you idiots were causing problems out here, she’s gonna make your lives miserable.” That got a reaction. Todd visibly winced. Smart man. “Take the wallets, don’t take the wallets, I honestly don’t care,” Scout continued. “But quit acting like a couple of discount movie villains and get the hell out of here.” A few more grumbles followed before the pair eventually backed off, throwing some of the man’s stuff on the ground. Liam pointed at Christian one last time, making a threatening gesture. Todd rolled his eyes. Then both men wandered off toward the festival crowd, deciding Scout wasn’t worth arguing with tonight.
The second they disappeared, Scout let out a long sigh and rubbed a hand over her face. “Jesus Christ.” The words slipped out automatically before she looked back toward Christian. For a second she simply stared at him. Then she laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it wasn’t. “Can I ask you something?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why would you wear a watch that costs more than my rent to a festival?” Her eyebrow lifted. “And then wander off by yourself?” Scout gestured vaguely toward the crowd around them. “This place is full of drunk people, tourists, teenagers, and idiots. You basically walked around with a giant sign that said please rob me.” The gum popped again. “Like, congratulations. You somehow managed to look like the richest guy here and the easiest target.” She tilted her head, studying him for another moment before sighing dramatically. “You got everything?” she asked. “Wallet? Phone? Fancy little ring?” The concern was there despite the teasing. “Or do I need to go hunt down Tweedledee and Tweedledumb before they disappear into the crowd?”
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