still on that trapeze @safiyeece-archive - Tumblr Blog

the-harperbaddock:

“I appreciate that Saf” Harper said, knowing that her friend having an open day was a rarity (and not just because she preferred to have most things scheduled).

But when Safiye starting putting thought into answering the question Harper asked— mostly jokingly— she was intrigued. Her chin rested in her hands and her drink sat unsipped as she listened intently. But she gave a scowl with no malice behind it at ‘probably rude, but there would be an unspoken attraction neither of you could deny’

“I cannot for the life of me decide whether I love that or hate that idea. Undeniable chemistry? Sign me up. But having to deal with someone rude first…. Well,” she considered, tilting her head, “I suppose it would depend on what type of rude they are.” Harper’s giggles joined Saf’s. She couldn’t imagine talking to anyone else like this, being able to know without explaining exactly what she meant by different types of rudeness (and there were plenty).

But when Safiye continued her monologue, she yet again had Harper’s rapt attention. Harper couldn’t help but feel touched and seen, but the logical part of her brain scolded her and kept her skeptical. “Me? The perfect romantic heroine? With my bizarre hours, contradictory personality and… affection for alcohol.” She took a big sip as if to punctuate the sentiment. “But you? Growing up full of glamor and beauty; invitations to balls and charity events; getting a taste of freedom and losing it; and the most important requirement— being a hopeless romantic,” Harper over-emphasized those last words before dissolving back into giggles.

“Seriously though, I know I tease you about it, but I think it’s amazing that you’re in touch with that side of yourself and what you want. It’s a good thing… Even if it does give me some of my favorite fodder against you” Harper said, sticking out her tongue.

“Of course.” Safiye replied. And that was why she would always do her best to make room for Harper in her schedule, because Safiye knew Harper genuinely appreciated it, and because she wasn’t remiss to say so. Considering how much of her effort went unnoticed and unremarked upon, it was nice for Safiye to have someone like Harper in her life.

From a young age, Safiye had both craved and abhorred the limelight. She was raised to want to be the center of attention, to expect it, but at the same time it went against the very core of her personality. For the most part, Safiye put up with attention, even when she was compelled to seek it out, but it was different when the attention came from Harper. With Harper, Safiye didn’t feel like a bug under a magnifying glass, one wrong move away from being burnt to a crisp. Instead, it was more like the warm glow of direct sunlight in springtime, safe and comforting and golden.

So under the light of Harper’s attentiveness, Safiye blossomed, as she so often did, coming into her stride with the story she was spinning. “He probably won’t actually be rude, he might be awkward, and come across as rude like Mr. Darcy. Or maybe he’ll be preoccupied with something that has nothing to do with you and later have to beg your forgiveness for his uncharacteristic behavior. But there always has to be some sort of obstacle to overcome in a great love story, otherwise it isn’t great.”

Safiye kept the rest of what she could have said to herself, that Harper didn’t have a built in conflict like Safiye did. Unlike Safiye, Harper didn’t have to worry about finding love in the narrow confines of what society deemed a suitable match. At least, she didn’t have to worry in the same way that Safiye did.

Safiye rolled her eyes at Harper’s protestations and took a sip of her drink as well. “Yes, you. That is precisely why you would make the ideal romantic heroine, you are perfectly primed for the transformative power of love, to find someone who takes you as you are and helps you be your best self at the same time.” Safiye sighed dreamily. She couldn’t decide if she really believed such a love was possible, but she was certain she wanted it.

“No,” Safiye shook her head, “those are precisely the things that destine me for a great fall from grace not a great romance, and I can’t let that happen.” She wouldn’t let that happen. Safiye would live up to her parents’ expectations even if it killed her, and there were some days it felt like it might. But sitting here with Harper, chatting and laughing, those days seemed a distant nightmare instead of a sharp reality.

“Well, as long as you think it’s amazing.” Safiye joked lightly. It was easier to laugh about it than to acknowledge how deeply Safiye needed to hear that kind of validation. She often found herself wondering if she should just take the easy way out and give up on everything she wanted, and to know that Harper admired her for it helped Safiye hold her ground. It kept her determined to find a way to make the life she wanted out of the life she needed. With an uncharacteristically vulnerable smile she added softly, “Thank you, Harper.”

#i harper #harper 001

benjy-whoisleft:

Benjy jumped at any chance to do something for the Order, choosing to take the “ride this initial excitement” approach over “chill out even a little to avoid burnout.” Safe to say, it was a lesson he very stubbornly refused to learn.

There were more advantages to it than feeling like he was doing something real and tangible. He was gaining a deeper understanding of the organization. He could tell those that didn’t know him before were already beginning to recognize him. In turn, he had a lot more time with the surprises, with the ones he’d never met. It was obvious that everyone was still feeling each other out, and he was right there with them.

Safiye fell firmly into the “unknowns” category, from maybe having a year at Hogwarts together right down to his complete ignorance towards what any of the pureblood names might -“mean.” Even the Barns hadn’t provided much—granted, he could have done better with diversifying there instead of staying close to those he knew and the praise that came with it. He’d rather go in blind while on-call rather than have her be a complete stranger when they were inevitably thrown together in the field, anything with much higher risk.

As for the lessons he had learned, well, this was one of them. “Benjy’s good,” he answered. There was a hint to his features that yes, there probably was a name behind it, but he wasn’t going to be confirming it. This was never a small talk question: it was always someone looking to call him Benjamin. He had no aversion to the name—he chose it—but he was conditioned out of it. If someone yelled it in an emergency, he wouldn’t exactly look up.

“You’re Safiye, right?” Benjy asked as he settled in. He tucked one of his feet under him, sitting up straight and unwilling to give other edges when he had to admit to not knowing something. “Do we just… hang out? I haven’t had an on-call night yet.”

“Hm.” Safiye hummed in response to Benjy’s reply to her question. Only the faintest purse of her lips gave away her dissatisfaction with his answer. It was obvious to her that Benjy was, in fact, short for something, but she would never be so rude as to call him Benjamin without actual confirmation that it was indeed his name. After all, for all she knew, Benjy was short for something else, and then she would look like a fool. It was a disagreeable start to the evening, but not an irredeemable one.

“Yes, Safiye.” She emphasized each syllable just slightly. He’d pronounced it properly, not a guarantee among the British, but she did not want him to start calling her “Saf” just because he went by a nickname. Proper names were important to Safiye, but she loved the musicality of her first name. Not only was “Saf” lazy it was ugly, too, which was the truly unforgivable offense.

Safiye had an agenda for the evening that went beyond simply being on call with a new recruit, but she was willing to let Benjy direct the conversation for now. After all, they had hours ahead of them and Safiye was nothing if not patient. Except perhaps calculating, as she was trying to put the boy at ease so he would be more willing to answer her questions later. She took note of his stiff posture and smiled, soft with an edge of reassurance.

“Yes, if we’re lucky we just hang out,” she used his phrase, even though it was distinctly informal, and her distaste didn’t show. “We’re first in line if someone needs back up, but it’s a quiet night. There aren’t many missions. We try not to throw you in the deep end before you can swim.” She smiled wryly, letting him in on her little joke.

She made a point of relaxing her own posture as unspoken permission for him to do the same. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep, but she’d meant what she said, it should be a quiet night. There was no reason to sit stiffly as if one was on the verge of springing to one’s feet the whole time. Of course, Safiye had a very unique definition of relaxed posture. She leaned back against the chair, but did not slouch. She kept her legs neatly crossed at the ankle, even though she was wearing trousers, and rested her hands elegantly on the arms of the chair.

#i benjy #benjy 001

ava-avery:

“I’ll have to give her my compliments when I see her next,” Ava said. Of course, she had followed etiquette and greeted her host upon arrival, following societal rule where she had to and avoiding a fight with her parents. And before leaving, she would circle back and gush about what a lovely party it had been. Ava knew exactly where the lines of high society went, and which ones she could tow.

She dragged a hand through her hair, letting a few loose strands escape the half-bun she had put it up in. Had she been talking to anyone from the older generation, as Safiye put it, Ava would have probably kept still – but somehow, she doubted Saf would gasp at fidgeting.

Her independent life was a lot more interesting. Most of the time when the topic came up at parties like this, the situation was often described as interesting, with the tone and thin smiles implying that interesting actually meant peculiar and worrisome. Ava enjoyed that Safiye said exciting as actually meaning exciting. She gave a more relaxed smile.

“It’s been a little while now, but I really enjoy it. A bit strange, after sharing a room with others for so long, but I quite enjoy the freedom that comes with. And it has a fireplace, so I can visit home regularly,” she added, to avoid the next round of gossip being ‘possible Avery heir flees family’. She tilted her head. “Although I am considering moving, now that I don’t have to be near the Ministry. And what about you – where are you residing these days?”

“She’ll be thrilled, I assure you.” And it was true, the most meager scrap of validation from someone like an Avery was worth more to Rohesia than any amount of work put in by her own daughter. It stung, but it was a fact of Safiye’s life and always had been. She was used to it by now, and it just drove her to work even harder for her mother’s approval. At least, that’s what Safiye told herself.

Safiye watched Ava muss her hair with an implacable face. Such a move was not Safiye’s style. She was always immaculately put together, a conscientiously constructed facade made of careful choices. She had to be, if she was to prove that the Fawley name meant more than anyone thought. She knew there were plenty of people in society that were just waiting for her to make a false move, so she could never make one. Then again, Safiye was not an Avery, and she didn’t have the room to misbehave that Ava did.

Outwardly, Safiye maintained an expression of polite interest, but inwardly she was hanging off Ava’s every word. It was as if she were describing a foreign country Safiye was desperate to visit, and in a very real way, Ava was doing just that. It was an unfathomable amount of freedom to Safiye to merely be able to live away from home, and here Ava was talking about moving again, simply because she could.

“Oh? Where do you think you will go, is there somewhere you have your eye on?” A little more of her interest than Safiye would have preferred leaked into her voice. Her smile widened into something less superficial and more genuine, but the next moment it fell back to her usual polite facade. She did not want to talk about her own living accommodations, especially when doing so would put them side by side with Ava’s, but needs must.

“I’m still at home, my parents wanted me to stay, we’ve always been quite close.” A truth flavored lie, the Fawleys were closer than many pureblood families, but that wasn’t why Beren and Rohesia had insisted on Safiye staying at home. “They’ve given me an entire wing to use as I see fit, it’s good practice for running a household of my own one day.” It was the exact argument Safiye had used to convince her parents of the plan in the first place.

#i ava #ava 001

geraldine-whoisleft:

Safiye’s presence in the shop was never quite a comfortable one, but at least, it had subsided from the outright defensiveness it started with. Mostly on her end—a surprise when it came to most things, but she would always be a fierce defender of her family’s wands.

Slowly but surely, implications of inferiority thrown from both of them and borne of a respect for wands and the craft had evolved into joking ones. She liked to see those who made a point of taking care of their wands, both on their own and with these tunings. It was simpler than snapped or fractured wands, but far less heartbreaking. She’d take the trade everyday, regardless of the core.

“Here to finally make the switch?” Geraldine asked, looking up from her notes. She was keeping more meticulous records after the theft, but given the sheer number of wands in the place, it was proving a lot harder than a simple inventory. She was still puzzling over the best way to manage it. “I just finished a gorgeous red maple, dragon heartstring core that I think you would find divine.”

She placed one of the wands she took out for a soon-to-be first year inside her book and shut it, looking at Safiye expectantly. She knew why she was here, of course, but the fun was in this back and forth.

Admittedly, it had taken Safiye a while to warm up to Geraldine Olivander. Both women were fiercely proud of their respective families, and in the beginning that had caused friction. Eventually, the little digs became less pointed, the snide asides less venomous, and slowly, Safiye and Geraldine grew into something founded in mutual respect. After all, Safiye couldn’t truly dislike someone who treated her wand with as much reverence as Geraldine.

In the early months, Safiye would have sneered at the cramped and dingy little shop that the Olivanders occupied. The Solaks’ shop in Turkey was certainly better appointed, more spacious and better lit befitting such an illustrious brand. Despite the differences, there were unmistakable similarities between the two locations. The aromas of different woods mixed into a heavy, musky scent in the air, paired with an ineffable scent Safiye always thought of as magical potential. It gave the room a familiarity that Safiye no longer resisted, and in fact was welcoming.

She allowed herself to roll her eyes at what she thought of as one of Geraldine’s little jokes. It was ludicrous to think she would want a wand other than the one that had been custom made for her, especially one with a different core. She said as much, in her own way, “Just a tune up today, Geraldine. Though if I’m ever in the market for a downgrade, I will be sure to let you know.” Her tone was light and even, almost playful. There was none of the acid that might have been in her voice earlier on in their relationship.

With practiced care, Safiye withdrew her wand from its holster on her arm. It was worn from years of heavy use, but obviously well-maintained. Safiye polished it regularly, but always made a point of doing so before a visit to Geraldine. She held it out with less reluctance than she would have to nearly anyone else, but couldn’t resist a joking warning. “Mind the core, it bites.”

It was, of course, an unnecessary threat. True, the susulu hair in Safiye’s wand was, as she liked to think of it, opinionated about who should handle it, and had in fact caused trouble for both her parents on different occasions, but it seemed to like Geraldine. This was due in large part, Safiye was sure, to the fact that Geraldine was respectful of the wand, and in no small part to the fact that Safiye herself was more inclined to like Geraldine than either of her parents.

#i geraldine #geraldine 001

adelaide-whoisleft:

Adelaide had to shut her eyes for a second to keep from rolling them while she was stuck listening to her. She may pride herself in her sense of fashion, but at least, she knew how to adjust it. While there was plenty she would hate to see wrecked, she had better sense than to bring it here. Every year, it came with an afternoon browsing thrift shops to find clothes that looked well enough while still being destroyable.

It was not the only thing she prided herself in. She stood up straighter as Safiye turned towards outright insults and fixed her with a hard look. If she’d had less to drink, if every inch of her—brain included—wasn’t screaming in exhaustion, if it was anyone but Safiye, she might have let it roll off with little more than a scoff. She still knew it wasn’t true, but as the perfect storm crashed around her, she slipped right into it.

“I did grow up in a place like this,” Adelaide lied, smooth as glass and laced with acid. No one knew exactly which Dubois branch they were from; there were plenty to back up the background of the day, should it be looked into. She used it. “Mud that lingered for days after rain, slowly draining into the creek. A comradery in neighbors that might not always be friends but were there to lend a tarp or a bucket. It was not a farm, no, but I learned well enough how to handle myself in the woods just as well as I can at a seven course meal. Let me tell you, the latter is by far the lesser civilized of the two.”

Adelaide took a sip of her drink, letting the words sink for only a beat. “I am confident in my power, Fawley,” she added carefully. Her concern was far less about how far it extended beyond France, it was reserved for why exactly that was, what made Safiye label her a savage. After all, the reason for their so called limits was the half-blood status. “Anyway, I would rather be improper than a desperate social climber."

Safiye could have turned and left. She was practiced in the art of listening to her better angels, well used to walking away from a challenge. Even when it killed her inside, she was able to play the part of a perfect, vapid, Pureblood princess better than most. She knew how easily a light laugh and a toss of her hair could diffuse an escalating situation. The only problem was, an escalating situation was exactly what she wanted tonight. So as Adelaide straightened, Safiye took a step closer, tall enough in her heels to look down her nose at the blonde.

The ironic thing was, Safiye had nothing against the kind of upbringing Adelaide described. True, it was about as far removed from her own childhood as one could get, but Safiye didn’t hold her past as the gold standard of anything, except maybe misery. She herself might have hated to get her hands dirty, but she had no quarrel with people who had to. Unless, of course, that person was Adelaide, or just as likely to be lying about her past as breathing. Like Adelaide. If she had been looking for a chance for genuine connection instead of a fight, she might have explained it all, but instead she scoffed.

“For one who claims to scorn polite society, you do have a curious habit of shoehorning your way into it. I imagine I’d see you at rather fewer seven course meals if you truly found them so uncivilized. Tell me, are you a hypocrite, or are your illusions just so unstable they require constant maintenance?” It was a low blow, but Safiye didn’t care. She had nothing against Adelaide’s alchemical work, even found it privately impressive, but she did have something against Adelaide. And for all that, as Safiye was slowly realizing, she was quite drunk, she believed she had a valid point. Adelaide didn’t have to be at Society functions, if she hated them so much. A fact that Safiye was deeply envious of.

Adelaide’s last barb stung, and, for once, Safiye wasn’t quick enough to keep it from showing on her face for a moment. She didn’t want to be a social climber, and never let it be said she did anything gracelessly, but she had no choice. She didn’t have, as she imagined Adelaide did, supportive parents with low expectations. Instead she had Rohesia Fawley, the last bastion of purity in a Sacred 28 family, and Beren Fawley, who’d crossed a continent to find a bride who was his equal. And she was their only child, the only focus of all their hopes and dreams and demands. She was their last chance, so she would climb, no matter what it made people like Adelaide Dubois think of her.

Just as quickly as it opened, Safiye’s expression shuttered again, and she sneered as if that could wipe away the brief flash of vulnerability. “You are over confident in your power. You behave as if coming from another country to fight a war that is not your own makes you some kind of savior. You are not better than the rest of us just because you are French.”

#i adelaide #adelaide 002

Safiye Fawley; the future, pt 2

Sometimes walkin' out is the one thing That will find you the right thing

#you're not what you thought you were #[future tag]

Safiye Fawley; the future, pt 1

Sometimes givin' up is the strong thing Sometimes to run is the brave thing

#you're not what you thought you were #[future tag]

the-harperbaddock:

That was one of the things Harper admired about Saf. Unlike her own pessimistic— or realistic, as she insisted to herself—outlook, Safiye always had dreams and expectations in high places. Harper knew all too well that this sometimes led to dashed hopes and disappointments for her friend, but it never had and never would deter her being there to support her. While never to the same extent as Safiye, in the past Harper had once allowed herself more optimism. But that felt not only like it was ages ago, but like it was a version of herself that was no longer.

“Some company would probably be nice, whether it’s for brunch, shopping, or back at one of my places at night. Whatever works with your schedule and however the day goes, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Harper, in turn, sipped her drink, eyeing the nearby plate of biscuits.

“I can’t believe it’s really been five years,” she started, “Since graduation, since… everything” she gestured at the hotel room around her, knowing Safiye would catch her drift. “Sometimes I feel like this is just stalling… waiting for something to happen and for real life to begin,” she reflected, “I just don’t know what” She looked at the other woman and chuckled a bit. “Maybe it’s like one of your romance novels. I just need to meet the one” Harper teased, over-emphasizing the last two words, “and it will all fall into place.” She was joking, but couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was some yearning behind it.

“Well, what would happen next in one of those books?” she asked, taking another sip of her drink, before finally giving in and reaching over to the plate. “After all, you’re the expert” Harper finished, nibbling on the biscuit she’d grabbed.

It was always a relief to Safiye to feel known by Harper, even if not fully. She spent so much of her time reflecting back what people expected of her, fighting to live up to high expectations, none higher than her own. So much of her life was a high wire act, it was nice to sit with Harper and just be, and know that Harper saw her, even if she didn’t understand it all.

“I’ll make room whenever you want me, just let me know.” It was not a promise Safiye made lightly. On any given day she had to contend with her mother’s plans for her, any commitments she might have to the Order, and carving out some quiet time for herself, and this rarely left room for impromptu plans.But you made sacrifices for your closest friends, and Safiye was well used to sacrificing for far less.

Safiye hummed in agreement with what Harper was saying, She herself was never able to escape the nagging feeling of lack. Like there was something more out there, something that was waiting for her. It was part of what had driven her to join the Order, and what kept her there, despite being generally unwelcome. Still, even her nighttime vigilante work wasn’t enough. She still felt, as Harper put it, stalled.

She chuckled at Harper’s question. Knowing it was all in good fun she still considered it seriously. “Well, five years after a horrible tragedy is probably around when you would meet him. He’d be utterly inappropriate at first. Either too poor, or too rich, and probably rude, but there would be an unspoken attraction neither of you could deny.” Safiye broke off her faux serious monologue to giggle, then picked back up. “You are the perfect romantic heroine, though. Serious and dedicated, but secretly longing for more.”

#i harper #harper 001 #a weak reply but it's here #finally

ava-avery:

Every start of a social season, Ava did a calculation on how much she could miss before receiving a lecture from her mother about her duties as an Avery. Ironically, if she’d still had her job, Ava would have had a fool-proof excuse on why she couldn’t show up at every garden party and every gala. But alas, the excuse of ‘finding herself’ didn’t hold as much weight. So she had stocked her closet up with acceptable summer wear and her cupboard with coffee.

Garden parties were firmly on the middle of evils. Not as exciting as a ball-like affair, with nifty champagne glasses and nooks to sneak off too, but not as boring as tea parties, with hours spent sitting prettily and sipping tea. The annual Fawley party was for women only, which meant that she couldn’t get drunk with Sebastian or Evan – but at least it was a good excuse to avoid half her family. The gossip could get pretty viscous and she was sure she was in the middle of some of it, but that was on par for being an Avery. If the last year had taught her anything, it was how to smile pleasantly to someone who had just exchanged rumours about your family.

Ava looked up as Safiye approached, her pleasant smile turned on for the day. She was always happy to chat with those around her own age as it was easier to find common ground that way. And less chance of being grilled about her future. “Safiye, good day,” she greeted. “Of course, thank you for the invitation! I’m having a great time, thanks. It’s a lovely party – did you help plan it?”

“No, this really is my mother’s pet party. She looks forward to it every year.” Safiye smiled to cover the hurt. She had attempted to contribute this year, offering several ideas that she believed would be a fresh and fun update to a somewhat stale event. Each idea had been dismissed out of hand, leaving Safiye feeling incredibly frustrating. “I think the older generations appreciate that this is one event that is the same every year.” Safiye smirked just slightly, letting Ava in on the joke.

The party was going well, of course, it certainly wouldn’t be a disaster. Safiye just felt that it was a little stuffy and formal, then again, she felt that most pureblood events were stuffy and formal. She still thought it would have been improved by a little levity. She’d offered some of her rugs for her mother to put out on the lawn to sit on like a picnic, but Rohesia had insisted it was too casual. She’d had similar objections to Safiye’s suggestions of a mimosa bar and venturing away from finger sandwiches as the only hors d'oeuvre.

Safiye decided to steer the conversation in a different direction before they got too bogged down in the banal niceties they were both clearly used to. What she really wanted to hear about was Ava’s life, so different from her own. “I heard that you moved out recently, that must be so exciting. How is it going?” Safiye tried to keep her face politely interested, not betraying just how desperate she was for details.

#i ava #ava 001

bronzed-lustre-blog

#already choking on my pride #q

closed starter for benjy fenwick

Tonight, Safiye was doing something she’d never done before, she was working a shift at the Order headquarters that she’d volunteered for. True, she had her own motivations for volunteering, but she believed she should get points for volunteering, anyway. Her reason for volunteering arrived shortly after she did, the Fenwick boy, one of the Order’s newest members and her partner for the evening.

Safiye was taking an interest in this year’s new recruits, more so than she had in years past. Her interest was entirely selfish, Safiye believed the Order’s purview was too narrow, and she was trying to sort out other members who agreed with her. She wanted to see far more extensive social change than simply combating the rampant blood purist sentiment on the form of these “Death Eaters.” She would like to see the Order move from a vigilante society to an actual movement for real political change, and in order to do that she needed allies.

She’d been paying attention at the Barns, when she wasn’t preoccupied getting disastrously drunk and ruining her reputation, especially to the new members. She found reasons to disregard almost all of them. These were too entitled, that one was too chatty, another was too timid. At first she’d dismissed all of the male recruits, because how could a boy possibly want to change the way the world worked when he was the one who benefitted from it? Then she’d realized she would have to be less particular, because she was coming up with a reason to ignore each and every new recruit.Finally, she settled on Benjy Fenwick. He was young, and a boy, but he seemed more serious than most, and she liked that he’d been a Ravenclaw.

So Safiye smiled her best, prettiest, Friendly and Unthreatening smile when Benjy arrived and motioned to the chair next to hers. “Welcome, Benjy. Is that short for anything, Benjamin, perhaps?” Safiye found nicknames lazy and informal, and never addressed someone with one if she could help it.

@benjy-whoisleft

#i benjy #benjy 001

casshoward

#already choking on my pride #[future tag]#q

not like the regulars: closed starter for ava avery

Rohesia Fawley’s annual garden party was something Safiye looked forward to in that she looked forward to it being over. Of all of the various events that the Falweys hosted throughout the social season, the garden party was by far Safiye’s least favorite. For one thing, Rohesia insisted on only inviting the women of society, which had the double downside of being both more boring and more treacherous than most gatherings. Without men talking politics to interrupt, Safiye usually felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin, but at the same time she couldn’t let her show, as the women were usually especially vicious without their husbands around to put on a show for.

At least this year there was one potential bright spot, as Safiye had managed to sneak Ava Avery onto the guest list, and the young woman had actually accepted. Safiye did not know Ava beyond by face, but she knew of her, and the Avery girl’s reputation promised to be an interesting addition to the afternoon. More than that, Safiye truly wanted to get to know Ava, the girl who’d moved out of her parents’ house, worked a job then quit it, and even traveled. In short, Ava was a girl who’d had several of the things Safiye herself wanted, and Safiye wanted to hear about everything.

For the first hour or so of the party, Safiye bided her time. She occupied herself making the rounds, greeting guests, and generally playing at the role of hostess, even though it was technically her mother’s party. She didn’t want to seem too eager and tip her hand to either Ava or Rohesia, the former because she didn’t want to make the girl uncomfortable and the latter because she didn’t want to be seen wanting something.

Finally, Safiye made her way over to Ava with a friendly smile. She started out with an easy question to gauge the girl’s mettle. “Ava Avery, welcome, I’m so glad you could make it. How are you enjoying the party?”

@ava-avery

#i ava #ava 001

belligerently

wow called out

#already choking on my pride #q

wands are a girl’s best friend: closed for geraldine ollivander

Truth be told, Safiye had several vanities, but one of her greatest was her wand. It was a beautiful instrument, made of maple wood with a soft pinkish-orange hue and delicate lattice work on the handle. It was worn from years of use, but Safiye went out of her way to maintain its shine and elegance with frequent polishing and regular check ups with a wand expert. She’d first taken her wand to her great-uncle Solak when she was in Turkey, but these days it was more practical to take it into Olivanders.

Over the years she’d become something of a fixture in the dark little shop, coming in about once a month just for a professional to look her wand over. In recent years, Safiye had struck up something akin to friendship with Ollivander’s young assistant, Geraldine. Safiye appreciated the way the girl always handled her wand with great reverence and care. She always had a little bit of anxiety handing her wand over to someone who might not treat it with appropriate care, but that anxiety was substantially less when the someone was Geraldine.

Safiye always made a point of visiting Geraldine after she returned from the Barns, as the annual training camp was the most excitement her wand had all year. After such a workout, she always wanted to make sure that her wand was still in top working order. There was a sort of comforting routine to it, or perhaps ritual. After all, wands and wandmaking was the closest thing to a religion that Safiye had.

“Hello Geraldine.” Safiye’s voice was light and high as she entered, almost in harmony with the tinkling bell over the door. “It’s that time again.”

@geraldine-whoisleft

#i geraldine #geraldine 001

angelicloner

Just me, her (the overwhelming loneliness) and the moon

#already choking on my pride #q

the-harperbaddock:

Harper grinned as Safiye helped herself to the elderflower cocktail before passing it over. She bemusedly indulged her friend’s wafting of the plum drink, taking advantage of the hesitation to snag the drink and sample it, herself. Seconds later she placed it back into Saf’s hand, as if it had never left in the first place, and shot her wide, innocent eyes while struggling to keep a straight face.

Taking a sip of her own cocktail, Harper savored the taste, indulging her secret sweet tooth. “Damn, I did well with these drinks” she mused aloud.

She heard Safiye’s question, understood what she was asking, and very much appreciated the tact that her friend used by giving her an out if she wanted one. But truth be told, Harper wasn’t feeling much about it, at least not much that she’d been able to express. There was so much to feel and process that instead she just kind of shut it all down. She paused in thought, grasping for words to verbalize her complex mix of feelings. With almost anyone else, she would shrug it off, play it cool, calm, confident, and collected; but here with Saf, Harper was sure that the struggle was playing out on her face.

“I mean, it is what it is, I guess. Can’t exactly change my birthday or the other stuff… I think this year I might try to strike a middle balance” Harper started tentatively. “Not plan a big thing, but recognize the day, try to enjoy it— whatever that means or wherever that takes me— brunch, shopping, maybe going out,” She was creating the idea as she spoke it, selling herself on it as she went.

In a more hushed tone she added, “If I don’t expect anything I can’t really be disappointed,” It was a concept Harper was quite familiar with, but saying it to another person suddenly made it feel very jarring. Her words hung in the hair for a moment, though not with tension; she and Safiye could say these things to each other and be met with compassion and the knowledge that there was someone who saw them.

Safiye smiled when Harper swiped her drink. The faux innocent look on her face was unnecessary, they always did this. It was a little way of sharing their lives with each other. Even though they both had their secrets, they always sampled each other’s drinks.

Safiye swirled her drink around its glass as she listened to Harper. She was glad Harper had decided to celebrate her birthday, even in a small way. After all of her losses and hard work, Harper deserved to celebrate herself however she saw fit. “I’m happy for you. I know it’s a hard time of year, but I’m glad that’s not stopping you from doing a little something. Let me know if you want any company.”

It was the sort of thing Safiye said often, but usually it was done out of courtesy, because it was the proper thing to say. She rarely meant it, but this time she did. Safiye valued her solitude, treasured the rare moments by herself that she was able to steal from her two competing lives, but she was willing to sacrifice for Harper’s sake. Particularly on a historically hard day, Safiye wanted to be there for her friend, if she was wanted.

When Harper talked about keeping her expectations low, Safiye took a long sip of her drink. “That’s true,” she finally admitted. There wasn’t much else she could say on the subject. It was the most fundamental difference between the two young women. Harper was an expert at managing her expectations, Safiye was not. She wasn’t sure if it was because she couldn’t or because she refused to, but either way Safiye never kept her expectations low. It meant she lived in a constant well of disappointment, true, but for Safiye there was no alternative. She wanted more from her life, she expected more from her life, even though it was not reasonable to do so.

#i harper #harper 001

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