The brunette's gaze twists away from the mirror, taking in the other woman beside her. "Careful." Afet's tone hints of amusement, though the curve of her lips is sharp, a glint in her gaze. "Someone with less discernment could take that as a come on." It was a description that could easily enough fit herself, after all, as she twirls a champagne flute between her fingers. But, she decides to offer grace, in one of her rare good moods. "No one else fitting that description over here, though, I'm afraid."
The Erdoğans were once prominent amongst New York witches. Ambitious and social climbing, they originated from Turkey before emigrating to the United States, searching for greater heights in the big city. Talented in magic and adept at social politics, they made great strides in consolidating power, rising in the ranks quickly of the local coven. Born in the United States, city life was all Asiye knew in the beginning of her childhood. It was a privileged position that put her alongside the other children of powerful witches, and even secured a favorable arrangement with another strong bloodline for her future marriage.
But everything came crashing down when she was ten years old. Her father, never satisfied with his lot and always wanting more, attempted to lead a coup against the Whitlocks, the leaders of the New York City coven. When his ambitions led to defeat, the Erdoğans were exiled from the city — a mercy really, that their father was even allowed to leave at all. Suddenly taken away from everything they ever knew, the family fled back to Turkey in order to lick their wounds.
It wasn't very much long after that Asiye's mother suddenly packed up and left her family behind; the disgrace they'd fallen to was too much for her to accept, no longer satisfied with the life she had. It was the last time Asiye ever saw her mother, as she stood beside her brother silently and their father raged. Their once great family was splitting apart at the seams, and so far as their father was concerned, the blame lay with the Whitlocks.
Their retreat to Turkey turned out to not be a permanent move, eventually ambition overrode hurt pride and once the dust had been shaken off after a few years, it was back to America they went. Not back to New York — not yet, even their father wouldn't dare that, not after their public disgrace. But Boston, that would have to do.
There was never anything Asiye wouldn't have done for her father's affection. He had been good, once; a decent father, at least — or maybe that had just been the rosy film color of her childhood painting everything to look better, before it all fell apart. But regardless, the warmth of his love was a feeling she never stopped chasing even into her adulthood. It was an affliction both she and her older brother shared in, children starved of love and community after having it ripped away so sharply. It would shape the entire worldview the water witch would come to have, a loneliness creeping into her bones no matter how many people stood around.
It was such a loneliness that had her reaching out for connection, in the end. It was a shot in the dark, reaching out to the last real friend she remembered having, and Asiye never fully expected to receive an answer back. Only, she did. Maybe it was just politeness, or maybe it was a shared loneliness between the pair, an understanding few others would have, but it began a correspondence between the two women. As the daughter of the leader of the NYC coven — the heir apparent herself to take over when he stepped down — it was Rosalind who greased the wheels for the Erdoğan siblings' return to the city.
It didn't come without conditions — a tight rope wrapped around their necks, ready to tug sharply at any misstep. Distrustful eyes watching the siblings for any sign of treachery, ready to show them the same fate that befell their family once before. But despite it all, it was home. And one Asiye was desperate not to leave again.
She had only been back in the city for a few weeks when her past reemerged in surprising ways. Asiye had all but forgotten her childhood betrothal, a boy with dark hair and darker eyes and a wicked smile that promised a world of secrets, until he was standing in front of her face again by way of chance meeting. Even more surprising than seeing him again was the fact that he wanted to keep their engagement. It wasn't out of the goodness of his heart, Asiye was sure of that. And yet, it didn't matter. It felt like an act of insanity at the time, and perhaps it still does, but she agreed to the arrangement nonetheless.
Because she had her own reason for wanting it, too. A need for roots, for ties to the city that would make it harder to cast her away again. She can't disappoint her father like that. Not when his plans are riding on their shoulders now.
The Dahl twins arrived something of a mystery to the big city, with no known history but the aura of affluence. It was something that stained their bones, a peak into the years that were formative for the pair, even if they spoke of it little. If pushed, Jamie would simply brush off the probing query with a redirect, a small anecdote carefully detached from any true details. The past is the past, and he has no intentions of allowing it to be dredged back up.
In truth, the pair were born into a world of opulence in Norwich, Vermont, to a proud legacy of witches that controlled the local town. The elder and firstborn son, Jamie's life should've been that of a princeling, raised to one day inherit his parents' place as the leader of their coven. But something was wrong with the young boy; something that became more and more apparent as time went on. While his twin flourished in their magic, to Jamie, his hands remained bare.
First, they called him a slow bloomer. Some children took longer to connect with their magic, it would come to him eventually. It was a desperate explanation they clung to, doing everything within their power to attempt to force his magic to manifest. But none of their remedies worked, and finally, they were forced to concede the fact that Jamie had been born human.
It was a scandal that they tried to hide away for as long as possible, claiming he'd been born sickly and instead redirecting their attention onto his twin. Jamie was soon forgotten, pushed to the background by the mediocrity of his blood, forced to confront the fact that the life he had always been promised had been ripped away from his grasp; that he was a shame to his family, his lineage, that they would choose to lie about his condition than face the scrutiny of the truth.
The secret came out eventually, of course. There was only so long a child could be hidden away from the world. The tuts of strangers, the people that were once meant to be his coven, followed Jamie wherever he went. It didn't matter what else he excelled in; his schooling, his hobbies, everything he put his mind to completed with precision and dedication. None of it mattered in face of everything he lacked.
It seemed the one person who still saw him as a person in the world was his twin. They had always remained as intertwined as a chain link with each other, regardless of their parents' shifting favoritism. So long as he still held their favorable opinion, then no one else's mattered, and he could endure any of the whispers with his head held high and a haughty glare.
Until the day that they, too, were no longer in favor. While Jamie had always accepted his twin in whatever form, welcoming the revelation of a sister with gentle acceptance, their parents were not so agreeable. When it became apparent that neither of them would ever be allowed to live freely around the viper's nest that they'd grown up in, the two made plans in secret to leave it all behind.
Not all of it, as they took a substantial amount of money with them to get started; secret stashes hidden in a safe their parents never thought to hide the code of from them. Enough to take care of them while they established themselves.
Sick of feeling entirely too human in a supernatural world, Jamie joined up with the hunters, accepting their blessing into his blood, finally feeling special in the way that had always been promised to him. He didn't particularly care about the morality of it; the oath to uphold good by protecting the innocent from the supernatural. To Jamie, all that mattered was the power that made him different. Made him better.
New York suited him well, he found. The loose morals of the locals, the eagerness to turn a blind eye in favor of profit, it was something he sunk his teeth into eagerly. Anything to keep money incoming, in order to continue the lifestyle he and his sister had grown so accustomed to in their youth. Ambitious only in personal game, there's not a deal he wouldn't strike if the price were right, a devil he wouldn't shake hands with with a Cheshire grin. So far as Jamie is concerned, the only two people in the world are him and his twin Kelsey. Anyone else? He owed them nothing.
Born into a mercantile family of little means but blessed with beauty even from a young age, her father saw little value in a daughter than a bargaining chip. She was only a girl of sixteen when the deal had been struck, a new gift for the favor of the Sultan to join his harem. Rahşan had little say in the matter of her own fate, her lack of thrill for the idea ignored and disregarded swiftly. Instead, she was told to worm her way into the Sultan's favor, to bring good fortune to their family with her rise.
But of course, reality is often so different than expectations. In truth, she saw very little of his majesty for the first several years of her life in the Topkapı Palace, instead spending the majority of her time with the other consorts and the Valide Sultana. It wasn't a fate Rahşan minded, much less frightening than she had first thought. While the Sultan had his favorites, she was free to spend her time learning to sing and play many instruments. It wasn't freedom, the eyes of guards were always strict upon the harem, but it wasn't misery either.
It was her singing, in the end, that caught the attention of the Sultan. One of his favorites had succumbed to sickness the winter before, and the Valide had sought to put someone new before him to distract from his sorrow. Rahşan was young, and had played her part well, currying favor with the queen mother. She would make a suitable replacement who would offer little threat in way of attempt to control her son, or so the Valide thought.
Taken to his bedroom, it was Rahşan's voice that brought a smile to the Sultan's face, for the first time in months. She was quickly raised in position of the harem, and though it made her new enemies amongst the other consorts who conspired for her position, Rahşan enjoyed much more comfort and power with the position. But it still wasn't freedom. In the end, it was something that could not be forgot.
When assassins came for the Sultan, while a few of the other concubines attempted to protect Selim, Rahşan only stepped back. It was during the chaos that she found there would be no better time to run — a new Sultan would be crowned soon, at best she would be sent away to Bursa, at worst married off to someone of their choice, and neither fate seemed enviable to Rahşan. So instead, she ran. Out of the palace, out of Turkey itself, as far west as she could make it, trading her jewels and even performances on her lute for passage with merchants, until she finally made it to Europe.
But her new life was much harder than she imagined, surviving by her own two hands. She made money as both seamstress and entertainer, though neither paid particularly well. After forming a friendship with another seamstress she'd later discover was a witch, the young woman was introduced to the world of the supernatural, and suddenly saw her path forward with complete clarity. There was more to the world, she was meant to be more, and Rahşan would make sure she got it.
Though becoming a vampire took more effort than she thought, Rahşan was nothing if not determined, eventually emerging as a creature of the night with sharp new fangs. She had a new outlook on life, everything she wanted at the tip of her fingertips, and all she had to do was take it. From that day forward, everything was going to be different.
She made the most of her immortality, indulging on every passing whim that crossed her mind — the things she'd lost in the trade seemed worthwhile to what she had gained, at least at the time. It was only after more than a century had passed of her new life that she had begun to question the hastiness of her decisions, when watching everything Rahşan had once known while the vampire still remained. It felt like there was an impernance to the world, one that had not existed before; or perhaps it had, but she had never thought to take note of it.
It was a new lesson to learn, to not make attachments to anything that could be taken from her, by either person or passage of time — one that she would use as a guide for the rest of her immortal life, flitting in and out of lives at the drop of a dime, becoming close with only precious few. It was easier than allowing her heart to be broken again and again with the changing of the seasons.
New York is always somewhere Rahşan ends up coming back to. After landing first in the early 1900s, she fell in love with the city, and always finds herself back in it's grasp after her flights of fancy. Though she'd been gone nearly ten years now with her latest return, it still felt as much of home as it ever had.
The Başaks have always been a longstanding of Çeşme witches, though one could argue their legacy was more middling than envious. Born the second child and eldest daughter, Afet always seemed to be more than her parents could handle. A willful and independent child, she never quite accepted a single No for an answer, much to the frustration of the Başaks, who expected more mild-mannered behavior from their daughter.
Afet never quite crossed the line with her little rebellions, though, not until her teenage years when tragedy struck. Her younger sister had always been Afet's closest confidant, one of the few friends of her youth, and yet marked for death so early. It was cancer that stole her away in the end, leaving a grief stricken family in her wake, none affected so deeply as Afet.
With no outlet for her pain, and parents that would rather out on facades and pretend everything is fine, the fire witch's rebellion became far worse than anything they had seen before. Out of control and bordering dangerous, it soon became whispers amongst the Başaks that she would bring their family to ruin if allowed to continue her ways. Desperate for maintaining their perfect image, the solution they landed on would be to pass her off to another.
At seventeen years old Afet was married off to a man twice her age, another witch in their coven with enough money and influence to make an advantageous match. Her own protests fell upon deaf ears as she was packed away to her soon-to-be husband's house, forcefully molded into the image of a housewife under her strict mother in law's gaze. It was never a role suited to Afet, much less when forced upon her, and the fire witch's spark only seemed to blaze brighter in defiance.
But she was young, her magic still unruly, and escape wouldn't come easy. And so she began to study, far more studiously than she ever had in her life before. Every moment away from prying eyes was spent practicing her craft, delving into darker knowledges meant to be kept away from her eyes — as it turns out, her married family had a bit of personal secrets. But that was fine, Afet intended to make some of her own as well.
It took years before she was ready, before her mother in law fell as her first victim. She was just a frail, old woman, it was reasoned. No healing could've prevented the stroke. Certainly nothing Afet could have done, with her measly healing ability. That was the tune she sang, that was bought all too easily by her grieving husband. He never suspected he'd be the next domino to fall.
When he did, his fate was a lot less gentle, and much more bloody. If Afet had learnt anything in her life, it was that power was freedom, and she craved so much more than what she had been born to. It was a bloody, gruesome ritual, her husband serving as the sacrifice upon the altar of their dining table, until the last drop of blood drained from his body. A new woman reborn in fire, the ancestral home of her family by law burned long into the night as Afet made her escape.
The lone inheritor, there was no one to stop Afet from claiming the wealth left by the deceased, using it to cross countries — first to Europe, then America, the latter of which she's been for around six years. In order to maintain her lifestyle she's relied on her magical talents, dabbling into the criminal underside with ease. She's only been around New York for nearly half a year, but finds it all too easy to settle into the chaos around. There's good opportunity here, and Afet knows it, and intends to seize it, regardless of the means.
Would you be mine? would you be my baby tonight?
Could be kissing my fruit punch lips in the bright sunshine
'Cause I like you quite a lot, everything you got, don't you know?
It's you that I adore, though I make the boys fall like dominoes
berilpozam: a night to remember✨
Grateful to everyone who made us “the best series”, lucky to have you, lucky to have us♥️ @yalicapkiniresmi#yalıçapkını#altınkelebek
