#sierraSONNETS, a dependent mumu for coyotevalleyrp.
dante dahlin ⸻ intro. visage. pieces. connections. eliana saint mleux ⸻ intro. visage. pieces. connections. sammie salazar ⸻ intro. visage. pieces. connections.
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Janaina Medeiros
Xuebing Du
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Jules of Nature

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@sierrasonnets
#sierraSONNETS, a dependent mumu for coyotevalleyrp.
dante dahlin ⸻ intro. visage. pieces. connections. eliana saint mleux ⸻ intro. visage. pieces. connections. sammie salazar ⸻ intro. visage. pieces. connections.
“What can I say? It’s my guilty pleasure—” among other, equally questionable options— “and I don't get to have it all that much.” Bacon wasn't halal in the slightest; her parents would have a coronary if they knew all the ways she’d shirked their beliefs since leaving the nest.
Now that she was back, in a small town where everybody knew everybody’s business, well. “Go big or go home, right?” And she wasn’t doing that on an empty stomach. There was an open bag Swedish Fish somewhere in the mix of her spread, more evidence that she'd well and truly settled in.
Speaking of which— Bek started to shuffle a little bit of this and a little bit of that back into her bag, even if Sammie swore she didn’t need the space. A smirk sank against her lips, one hand waving over her mistaken-for-a-pastry-tart meal. Long day at the office?"
She had a few tattoos herself, though none by Sammie's hand. One of these days she'd need to fix that. "Not that I have any crazy ideas brewing over here, but I am curious." Another bite, another dab. "Are there any pieces you won't do?"
"Enjoy," Sammie said easily with a wink and scrunch of her nose. If there was anything she'd learned in life it was that your freedoms and liberties could easily be taken away from you. Her former life was not something she'd ever willingly walk back into, she didn't miss it, and since she'd found herself broken away from those chains the brunette intended to do what made her happy. End of story.
"Mind if I have one of those," her hand reached toward the bag of Swedish Fish, "I haven't seen these in a while and they were such a guilty pleasure when I was tween." As a child and well into young adulthood her diet had been watch closely, Sammie had to be as close to perfection as possible. She wasn't intent on desecrating the temple of her body these days but she wasn't one to withhold either.
After her order was in and she leaned forward on the bar, despite her previous comments of hovering over people all day, the action seemed so second nature. So, in recognizing her actions, Sammie straightened up. "It was non-stop. First appointment was at nine am. I mean, wild that people are getting up for tattoos at that time but I'm not complaining. Then it was just constant from there. I don't think I even ate lunch." Her fingers rubbed at her forehead, the feeling of an oncoming headache was there. "How about you? You look so cozy here..."
A brow raised at Bek's question and she gave it a minute to think it over before she'd answered. "I guess if some asshole came in asking for a Epstein tattoo or some symbol of hate. Also, anything relating to Elon Musk or Telsa... I'll never forgive him for putting the Cybertruck out there." Then she leaned closer and nudged Bek with her arm before leaning back. "Why, what's on your mind?"
she arched a brow at his contradiction comment, not bristling, but letting the corner of her mouth twitch like she’d allow the tease. “yeah, well,” she murmured, dragging a fingertip along the cracked spine of another book, “contradictions are kind of my specialty. guess that means i’m consistent, at least.” his sigh sat heavy in the space between them, and iris didn’t rush to fill it. she let the quiet stretch, the musty paper-and-ink scent of the aisle wrapping around both of them. when he finally said not every damn thing needed to be a lesson, she huffed softly — not quite a laugh, not quite agreement. “maybe not,” she said. “but life doesn’t exactly ask our permission before handing out homework.” her gaze followed his toward the shelves, eyes catching the titles but not really reading them. “sometimes i think people spend half their lives chasing answers they wouldn’t even know what to do with if they got ’em,” she added, softer now, like it wasn’t meant to land too hard. “but wanting one? that i get.” she didn’t look away when he said he was still standing, her own chin tilting in a kind of quiet acknowledgment — not a toast, but the closest she’d give to raising a glass in that moment. “yeah,” iris said simply. “we are.” the words carried no triumph, just the blunt truth of survival. when he asked about coffee, her brows lifted just slightly, surprise flickering into something easier. “do i drink coffee?” she echoed, straightening from her lean against the shelf. “if there’s one thing keeping me standing some days, it’s caffeine and spite. so yeah — i drink coffee.” a slow grin pulled at her mouth, lighter than before. “are you asking because you’re about to buy me one, or because you’re warning me i should cut back?”
It seemed Dante wasn't above reasoning that both could be true. There were plenty of times he hovered over the line with a leg on each side of an argument, able to see the logic in each case. So, he offered a nod, acceptance that her stance was just as valid as his own. Not that he'd meant or even attempted to actually disregard her. He'd been speaking from his own point of views and she her own. The common ground seemed easy to find. "Consistency is key, right?" Something bright and amusing danced in his eyes. "There's something to continuing to show up."
Again, Dante nodded. "I think it's the human condition to seek. To exist is to be apart of evolution. We learn, we grow, we evolve," he motioned on and on knowing she'd easily catch the point he was making. The words, his opinion was kept to a minimum not because he wasn't interested in chatting first. Dante just needed coffee or a drink to continue with such heavy topics. "It's just the bittersweetness of life that the answers rarely come until the end..."
A smile pulled at the corners of his lips when Iris confirmed they were indeed still standing. When life was a battle and you constantly felt at war over something, just being able to stand and perhaps still walk on with the wounds and shrapnel really meant something. "I'm no doctor," he replied with a light chuckle, "I'd never tell someone to quit what's sustaining them. I just think we could use a coffee or maybe even a drink following our conversation." And maybe it also said that he wasn't ready for it to end yet. It'd been the most real interaction he'd had in a while. "So, I'm happy to buy you a coffee if you're interested but also respect if you just wanna get on with your day."
Safiye peered towards him without any emotion and that was intentional. If she let her guard down, he'd likely see nothing near remorse but rather annoyance at being questioned about something she was so far removed of now that the cash was deposited in her bank account and she had her new home to look forward to.
"I didn't want to speak to you —and can you blame me." Her hand shot in his direction to say that this would likely have been the outcome if they'd spoken over the phone. "I assumed you would have called other people and they would have told you. I was mourning, I could barely get out of bed!" A little lie that he wouldn't be able to validate given that she'd been out of the country immediately after her husband's death as a means to get the heat off of her but to also celebrate a freedom she hadn't felt in a long time.
Her gaze rolled then, unable to hold herself because the fact that she'd been labelled a gold digger by her deceased husband's family was nothing new. They'd taken one look at her and urged him to have her sign a prenup. Luckily she'd already gotten into his head first. "You can contact the lawyers and they'd be more than happy to tell you what was in there. But it's none of your business."
The idea of him having medical reports made her still and she looked at him dead on, her body stiffening slightly. It wasn't out of fear but more out of knowing that she'd gotten one over on him. A little smirk crept on her face but it vanished as soon as it came. "You can ask but he was cremated." Another little piece she'd made sure was added to his will when she convinced her husband to change it before he got sick.
"It isn't my job to convince you. Whether you believe it's suspicious or not isn't my problem. You aren't a police officer or a member of jury that I need to defend myself to." She shrugged her shoulder and peered at her car. "But you are becoming threatening with this assumptions and I can get you charge with defamation."
Another little piece she'd tell the police officers. Harassment, defamation, threats. As she spoke to the police, she kept her eyes on Dante but chose to ignore him or else she feared she may have some kind of panic attack. "Call whomever you want to call." She'd fake it until she made it and she was convinced that she'd hidden her tracks well enough. Hopefully he was bluffing but time will tell. Once she hung up, she cleared her throat. "They're on their way so it's your last chance to leave and settle this by ourselves. A few grand should cover my damage so you can send it through venmo."
Every bit of her body language and every word uttered was giving Dante information whether Safiye realized it or not. He was reading her closely, determined to get some answers, and would catch her the second she slipped on anything. The more she went on, the more his suspicions rose. Those little hairs on the back of his neck stood up, an eerie feeling that something much darker had been at work here.
"Yes, I can blame you and I will. You don't get to decide to shut his family out, especially when they're trying to reach you, when something bad happens. I don't care what you were going through." There was no excuse good enough. Safiye could mourn and still pick up the phone. It was a duty to notify the family, and she'd completely failed them. The reasons for doing such were incredibly flimsy. "You can lay in bed and pick up the phone." Disgust had Dante shaking his head.
"But it is my business," his hands motioned to his chest for emphasis, "he's my flesh and blood. All he was to you was a means to liquid assets. There's a huge difference and I will be contacting the lawyers." Something fierce and protective burned in his chest. There was something very wrong if she were this combative and fighting against him so hard. "I've a got a team of them and can afford even more. So... we'll get to the bottom of this and you being uncooperative speaks volumes."
Then she dropped a bombshell and Dante actually staggered a step. Why would she have told no one of his death and then had him cremated so soon following? This didn't have the twists and turns of an Agatha Christie novel, it was actually so blatant and she was so incredibly bold about it that he was a little stunned. "You had him cremated," Dante repeated, voice quieter yet full of accusation. "He still should've had an autopsy, so we'll have that reviewed." There was a hoarseness to his tone as emotion worked over him. In the heat of this exchange while also processing the loss of a beloved family member. Joshua had been like a second father to him and not only was he just finding out that the man was dead... it was also becoming clear that he'd been murdered by the woman in front of him.
Thankfully this was all being recorded. Lawyers, cops, and he'd hire a private investigator as well would be on top of this. The PI specifically would come through his lawyers, someone cutthroat, someone that aligned with being a fixers just as well. "It'll be your job to convince a jury," he said coldly, already counting the days for her murder trial. "It's most definitely your problem. An investigation into his death is absolutely going to be a big problem for you. Me, not letting this go or walking away until you're in handcuffs and in prison for whatever you've done... is most definitely your problem."
Despite the emotions running through him, Dante laughed at her statement. "Threatening?" His brows shot up. "I'm literally recording this. Good luck suing me for defamation. I've not threatened you with any harm, only with investigation. I've also not allegedly defamed you to anyone but yourself." Ergo she didn't have a leg to stand on in his opinion, especially since if she tried to go legal with this it would only shed more light on the problem.
As she called the police, he stayed put and called up his lawyer. Some brief information was given discreetly and asked to have the PI get in contact and into Coyote Valley as soon as possible. Dante overheard her claims to the police and he was grateful he'd started recording when he had. "You already have my uncle's money, you don't need any of mine. Technically since all of his assets should've come to us and were stolen by you we're already paying for the damages. I also can't leave the scene of an accident, especially if the cops are on their way. I'll wait. We'll get this rolling."
"Wood stain," Safiye said as she peered at her hands as if the remnants of the chesnut stain she'd been putting on her deck would still be on her nails. It had been a bitch to get rid of. "I'm in my DIY era and it's been messy." But she hadn't expected that her date would be more dramatic than her and make a whole scene about the mess on her hands. "There's something horrible about mother-in-laws so that would have sent me out the door. I haven't met a good one thus far. I hope you ended it there and then."
"How the fuck does someone get bent out of shape over wood stain?" Baffled, Sammie made a face as she tried to imagine the dramatics over something so innocent. "Men are so damn strange. They make literally zero sense." The brunette shook off the thoughts and found herself chuckling, solidarity somehow in the sound as she put her drink to her mouth for a quick swig. "Honestly, a man that's good to his mother is a good sign. A man that's too close to his mother? That's a red flag." Then she nodded. "I made my exit when his mother came around and took a seat when the dessert selection was taking place. I kept trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but nah... I won't be doing that again."
Location: Outside buttercup bakery & cafe Open
Vic read the email again. And again. And again.
None of the words changed though, nothing shifted like sand in a looking glass for him, even when he wished and wished and saluted two magpies on the side walk, pecking at old chewing gum.
Nah. Nothing changed. None of that shit mattered and it was another stone cold rejection in his inbox.
And fuck, he'd been working on that piece for days.
Vic chewed on the inside of his mouth until he could feel hard skin between his teeth. This was not fucking good, this was bad, actually. Really shitty and really bad. Fuck...maybe this whole music thing wasn't for him. Maybe he should go back to-
Vic shoved his phone back into the rear pocket of his jeans and sucked down a thick gulp of his buttercup coffee. Best not over-think, he reminded himself. This would be fine. It would all be fine, actually. He was a musician first right? This would be cool and fine and totally ok.
Lounging half-heartedly against the corner of the café, Vic regarded his to go order miserably and wished he'd just stayed at home. At least the vintage cappuccino maker his neighbour had given him wouldn't have cost 6 bucks. Vic frowns at the white lid, chews his cheek some more cause maybe that'll fix all this. He turns to leave and his shoulder strikes something hard. There's a cry, and Vic doesn't know if its him or the other person as his coffee lists aimlessly over his arm and splats onto the street between them both.
"Oh!" he bleats like a stuck sheep "-Im so sorry, Jesus-." He begins to oscillate frantically, eventually setting his very expensive, half finished latte aside to pat helplessly at the other person.
"-sorry. Shit, i'm really sorry about this-"
It was a bit of a late start to the day for the redhead. The morning had consisted of a phone call that had roused her far too early from bed, then, since she was already up, Eliana made some coffee and tackled some emails and notes she'd been needing to add to client files for the past week.
Everything going on with her father and the disruption he'd been causing in her life lately had really begun affecting all aspects of her day to day. It was noticeable and that was troubling.
After a stop at the hospital for the consult they'd needed her on, Ellie swung by the bakery for one of their croissants and yet another coffee before she continued on to the appointments she had piled up for the afternoon at her office.
Only, on the way in her shoulder had connected harshly with another persons and she yelp as hot coffee splashed at her collarbone. "As long as that wasn't deliberate... we're all good," the redhead half joked, and kindly pushed his helpful hand away.
For times like these or if she spilled on herself at her office, she had spare clothing in the closet there. Eliana would be able to change her blouse and be good as new. "Wow that smells sweet," her green eyes finally lifted to meet his and recognition instantly set in them. "So, you like to drink your candy..." A tease.
"Could you do me a favor and grab some napkins?"
setting — fool's gold, early evening, on any given day of the week
status — open, capped at 0/3
Kelebek Yazici was a woman of habits. A woman of rituals and routine. One of them just so happened to be posting up along the counter at the local pizzeria, a spread of papers fanned around her and a icy glass of sprite within easy reach.
That day was no different. Treatment plans, progress notes, a tentative schedule for the next week— she'd made herself quite at home in the last hour she'd been there.
But Bek wasn't selfish; she knew she wasn't the only one who went weak at the knees for an extra pineapple, extra bacon, piping hot personal pan pizza finished off, of course, with extra cheese.
Case in point: a figure appeared in her peripheral just as she tore into another slice. She glanced up at the presence of their looming shadow, notching a smile equal parts sheepish and sincere against grease spotted lips.
"Sorry." She was taking up enough room for three people, wasn't she? "Do you need the seat? I can move my things."
At first, when Sammie had approached the counter, she'd thought in her tired state that she'd walked into the wrong joint. All that fruit piled on top of the pizza had her confused for a bakery. Nevermind all of the smells inside Fool's Gold that were telling her differently. Her mind seemed to momentarily grind it's gears as she processed the sight.
Then her attention snapped to the pretty voice that broke her out of doom she'd just gotten locked into. "Nah, honestly I've been sitting and hunched over people all day, I don't mind standing awhile."
As soon as she'd finished speaking her stomach added an endnote by letting loose a growl. With her hand over the loud complaint and equal demand, a smile stretched across her lips. "I don't think I've ever seen 'em use a whole pineapple on one little pizza before," Sammie teased, "had my tired ass thinking I'd gone into the bakery instead."
When the sever behind the counter materialized in front of her the brunette ordered the bbq chicken with a hot honey drizzle. "And please, please bring me a bottle of hot sauce with the pizza," Sammie added and winked at the server before they rushed off.
"Don't judge me for ordering an entire medium pizza for myself, or for what you're about to see when it arrives in front of me..." Sammie said with amusement as she glanced at Bek next to her.
you can never expect what sort of connections your brain will make. in the years since he’d been back, mick was surprised at how strongly his mind had linked red hair and anxiety medication together. though he’d only taken it for a short month and one more of weening himself off the lexapro, mick had felt robbed by it. of course it was the little pill’s job to mute the sharp insults clanging around his deep remorse, but it silenced everything else along with it. even if it had left some pleasure— or any other sensation— mick still would have felt an imbalance. the emptiness that had first sprouted when he left italy only kept growing, whether he felt it or not.
convinced the expanding void would swallow him whole, mick believed it was absolutely necessary to act. despite not having any specific qualms with dr. saint mleux, he had ended the treatment with his typical unofficial, unannounced abandonment. it resulted in mick continuing to carry his guilt. unprocessed and unwilling to address it (especially after the disastrous confrontation with sena), he dodged her whenever he spotted her around town.
here in the drugstore was the closest they’d been in years. normally, he would see her from afar and be able to mosey away without notice. mess-free. as she called his name, mick wondered if his small amount of luck had run dry. maybe not, though, she seemed much less upset to see him than his ex-wife had been the other evening. “hey, doc,” he half-huffed as he straightened out his posture, giving up on sneaking away. “i was just—uh..” unable to think of an excuse, he tried to pivot away from having to acknowledge his behavior. “i know, it’s good to see you. kinda’ funny seeing a psychiatrist in a drug store.” as he spoke, he scratched the back of his head before gesturing towards her, then took a look around the aisles. it was funny, he thought to himself, sparking what he assumed to be an innocent enough curiosity that he went ahead and asked, “do you ever prescribe yourself your own meds?” he smiled, amused by the idea. “like, do you even need a primary doctor to get antibiotics?”
So many times over the years she'd thought she'd spotted Mick here and there after he'd ghosted their sessions. Usually just a fleeting glimpse of his messy head that she convinced herself was more likely someone else. The redhead had actually been curious, and perhaps a little concerned, why he'd stopped coming but it wasn't unusual. Plenty of people decided it wasn't for them for one reason or another. Usually it had to do with not wanting to face or confront what was coming up. Sometimes the redhead wished she could tell her patients just how much she understood that, because she very much had her own secrets buried in an unmarked graveyard that haunted relentlessly.
"Ducking me?" Eliana smiled at Mick, finishing the sentence and saying what he was trying to be nice in not saying. "I'm not mad at you or going to give you shit... if that's what you think." Since he was technically no longer a client she spoke more freely than otherwise. "I do want to know that you're ok, though. Even if you've maybe found another doctor or just decided against..." She looked around, despite no one seemingly in earshot Eliana didn't want to chance outing him. Discretion was a bit part of her patient-doctor relationships. "Well, you look good and healthy. Maybe a little flushed from trying to escape." She winked, going with that instead.
At his comments, the redhead looked at the items on the shelves near them then smiled a bit as her first response was an unbothered single shouldered shrug. "You don't think doctors need Tylenol or a new tube of toothpaste?" With decades under her belt of hearing a variety of things come out of patients mouths Eliana was well practiced in keeping her reactions suppressed. That was how the clean and sober psychiatrist was able to keep an easy, gentle smile on her face as Mick mentioned a big problem she'd narrowly escaped with her career in tact. "Surprisingly it's not against the law to write our own prescriptions but it's largely ethically frowned upon, and I also work with a lot of controlled substances. So, it's tempting sometimes but nah," she shook her redhead confidently, as though she hadn't sent herself to rehab after getting carried away with her own prescription pad, "I try not to play with fire." Quickly shifting gears, Eliana asked, "how are you doing? You look good."
it wasn't often that men came into her boutique shop, and if they did it was generally to accompany a female companion or because they were gift shopping. none of which was bad, it was sena's curiosity and a mostly empty store at the moment that had truly drawn her attention. not to mention, the closer she got to the male, the more visually appealing she realized he was. "hey, welcome to bloom wellness." she greeted with an easy smile, eyes moved up and down him moments before she stopped ahead of him.
"sounds to me you need something more like some special gummies," sena winked, smiled hitched a tad higher at the playful comment. "but ⸺ i do have some bath salts and bath bombs that are good for relaxation if a warm bath is your thing." as she spoke her arm gestured toward the shelves to their right that contained those products. "i also have something for the shower if it's not. some lotions as well. what's more your speed?"
Glancing away from the items in front of him, a display of various lotions, he caught eyes with the store employee that had approached and felt his lips shift into an easy smile. She was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that men likely came into this shop and sweated over which gifts to buy for her and pamper her. Because of the instant attraction his body voluntarily shifted to face her. "Thank you, it's a lovely shop."
The quip about gummies had Dante breathe out a light laugh. "Yeah, I suppose that wouldn't hurt. Maybe my next stop is the smoke shop." As she began listing possibilities around the store was when he immediately felt out of depth. "Uhh..." he grinned, "definitely not a bath guy. That's more of a company activity anyway. So maybe shower or I don't know... do you sell those essential oils and diffusers and all that?"
━━━the attitude she was giving was not uncalled for, but it seemed to him like it was more like a projection, of sorts —all bark, but was there really an intent to bite? it would not have made him feel the slightest bit of guilt anyway, as he was already aware that he was in the wrong here, given the way things had turned out between them. his own approach towards her was not making it any better, either. he met her gaze when she responded, drew in a quiet breath, but said nothing —she had just said she was surprised it took him this long to come feed off of her, that’s where he took it from, but there was also no reason to go in circles with her over this. or over any of the things they couldn’t change anyway. perhaps, he did owe her an explanation, an apology even, more for how he had vanished without so much as a word; for how life had taken him away and he hadn’t bothered to call or visit from a point on. he had been selfish, true, and she was right to be upset.
this town is not big enough for the two of us, she repeated, and he met her fierce gaze once more. he wouldn’t pretend to know her now, though, like he once did. wouldn’t pretend to know what lurked behind the words that were implied, not spoken out loud. was it just anger, or was there hurt, too? he couldn’t tell, even if it felt there was possibly a mixture of both —and Kaan didn’t assume it was about him, not per se, more about the way he had treated her; or she had let him treat her. and this realization did spark a faint feeling of guilt, anew.
“if this assumption works for you,” he responded in a frank, neutral tone, still holding her gaze as he added a “then sure,” followed by a faint, barely there, shrug. he didn’t feel the need to argue or explain himself further; she harbors an anger towards him, a distrust, and he can understand she is prone to think little of him when he didn’t give her reason to feel any different. hazel eyes remained on her, studied her features for a collection of seconds, the way she had changed, yet looked all the same, too. he almost asked how she ended up in a small town, but didn’t; he wouldn’t pretend there were some sort of old friends. “you are mad at me, yet you are still here talking to me…” he said as if almost he needed to further test the waters with her, but in truth there was no ill intend, just maybe a bit of a underlying surprise.
Was his nonchalance annoying? Yes. Did it also tell her a lot about him? Also yes. If he thought he were clever ducking and dodging her comments or questions, Kaan was missing the fact that he was allowing her to read him like a book. That had been a thing about prison... she'd learned so much better than in her lifetime of acting of how to see people. Focus was so much sharper and the clarity crystal clear when your life or physical well being was on the line.
There were no feelings left for him. This presence of Kaan near her, in her space and talking to her like one of those cool guys, was more of a bad taste in her mouth. "If I was mad at you then that means I still care on some level. I'm not entirely indifferent about you but if you were as wise as you're trying to appear then you'd stop making assumptions." Sammie had remade her life and had done a damn good job of it. The last thing she'd wanted was some asshole to come and spoil it. At least she knew him now. Knew what he was about. The difference was awareness and also maybe connections.
"Why are you afraid to answer my question?" A little smirk popped up and the brunette made no show of moving away or folding. Sammie didn't do that. "Your tough guy act just makes me wanna laugh in your face." Was there still some bitterness of the past between them? Yes, but it was on her, the power wasn't with Kaan. Just like with her family, she'd felt used and taken advantage of, and she was still working on making peace with herself at how far it'd all gone. Sammie was a million times happier now and stronger than ever, and it'd be his mistake if he didn't recognize that.
"Well, I was here first. You approached me. This is my space," she shrugged, the gesture a non-verbal duh, "your pathetic ass isn't gonna push me out of it."
“maybe i didn’t,” iris said, without looking at him right away. her fingers paused on a worn cloth binding, the kind frayed at the edges from too many hands, too many years. she slid it partway out, glanced at the title — the weight of forgotten things — and returned it to the shelf like it had answered its own question. “maybe some of them weren’t deals so much as… mistakes i was too proud to call mistakes at the time.” her voice was steady, the same low timbre she’d carried all along, but there was an edge under it now, like the hum of a wire you didn’t know was live until you got too close. she shifted her weight, leaning against the end of the row, arms loosely crossed. “and sometimes the price isn’t too high when you agree to it. sometimes it’s not even a price, not really — just a promise you think you can keep. then years later, you realize what it actually cost was something you didn’t know you were giving away.” her mouth curved, faint and humorless. “by then, it’s not about the bargain anymore. it’s about the loss.” her gaze found his again, slower this time, like she was measuring the exact weight of what he’d asked. “as for your story…” a soft shrug. “it sounds like you’ve been telling yourself you’re waiting for an answer before you can move. that the why is some magic key that’s gonna unlock the door and make the next part easy.” she let the pause stretch, the quiet of the bookstore settling heavy between them. “but the door’s already unlocked, dante. you just don’t like what’s on the other side.” she straightened then, brushing her hands along her jeans as if to rid herself of the dust and the conversation both. but she didn’t step away. “betrayal’s not tidy. there’s no version where the scales balance cleanly. you can pick apart their reasons until your eyes go red, but at the end of the day…” she tilted her head, voice quieting but cutting no less sharp, “people do what they do, and you either stay standing or you don’t.” she let that hang there for a moment before her tone shifted, lighter, but with the same grounded weight. “and maybe that’s why i kept making deals,” she admitted, “because standing still never felt like much of a choice.” her gaze drifted to the aisle ahead, toward the glow of the shop’s front windows. “but if you really want to know where you go from here — maybe stop asking for a reason and start asking for a direction.” her eyes flicked back to him, a small, knowing half-smile. “those are two very different questions.”
While some of what she'd said resonated with him, Dante more so recognized and related to the resignation in her tone. The way she'd been able to speak so still and even, all the emotion of those past things gone or securely tucked away, told him almost more than the actual words had.
"You contradicted yourself," he said with a slight uptick at one corner of his mouth. It wasn't to point out a mistake, there was no negative connotation, Dante's tone was lightly teasing. "But it just goes to show that we often times don't know the price we're paying for something in the moment. Only reflection and that asshole called hindsight tend to point it out." He let out a sigh as his gaze shifted off of her, something wistful in the sound as he fell into a moment of quiet contemplation. "Some mistakes are more costly than others, yeah. It's just..." Crystal blue drifted back to her. "...not every damn thing needs to be a lesson." It was a complaint for the sake of it, Dante was aware in the grand scheme of things that was what life was all about.
"I don't like what's on this side," he responded, "I'm happy to pass the threshold if it means there's an answer on the other side. Doesn't need to be a good one, and I know there's not a true reason behind everything... it'd just be nice to have something." It wasn't a feeling he considered unreasonable, nor did he feel alone in that stance, but he was aware life had too much nuance for it to be that clear cut.
While his eyes drifted to the titles Dante was beginning to feel silly for his quest. Especially since he wasn't exactly sure what he expected nor wanted to find in this endeavor. It was a stretch for answers, the reasons behind bad things that happened, and maybe a hope to break away from bad energy. People do what they do. That caused him to nod his head in agreement, but also acceptance. He supposed he just needed to hear someone say that out loud. To look him in the face and drop the harsh truth.
"I'm still standing," Dante finally said after a stretch of silence bordered on too long, "and it looks like you are too." His head was tipped at her, a sort of acknowledgment for what she shared and how she still had her shoulders squared. "Sometimes we may hate our choice and they may be extremely limited, but... here we are." Shoulders shrugged and then his eyes moved about the store, an energy came over him that maybe he should walk away from this section.
"There's really only one direction," he stated as though going back ward or wayward to the left or right weren't options. "Do you drink coffee?"
Andrea peered at the woman when she began to take the items away from her and place them on her side of the table. Clearly she'd hit a nerve and instead of admitting as much, the redhead had chosen to go about it in a way that reminded her of a child tearing toys from other kids when they took them. The brunette leaned back and wiped her hands on the napkin, which was what remained from her side of the table.
While they were being childish, she figured she may as well play the part. "Do you want this as well or am I allowed to keep the napkin? I'm not sure if they charge you for that in this place and I wouldn't want to keep it and steal a penny more."
Instead of giving it, she crumpled it in her hand and placed it back on the table in an act of defiance.
"I do love how you tell me not to judge what a person has gone through but in the same breath you pass judgement on what you assume I've gone or haven't gone through." Not that it mattered because Andrea had work to do and didn't have time to mend a bruised ego.
She was working beneath the shadow of the night to find men who were stepping out on their marriage while the redhead was on her own, eating a meal that cost more than anything Andrea could pay for, so she figured the woman would be just fine.
"Maybe it would be best that I recommend you to some of my friends instead. I'm getting the vibe that I'm no longer welcome here. I do hope that you enjoy your meal and watch those small pieces, I'd hate for you to choke on them."
The last bit was more out of annoyance and she regretted them as soon as they came out of her mouth but she'd chalk it up to lack of being social given how she often spent majority of her waking moments alone.
The character the woman across from her showed through much more easily than she'd likely wanted. Not only had she been offensive with her remarks, she also wanted to try and add insult to injury because she didn't like or accept that there were consequences to her actions. Eliana let the woman be, it was just adding to the poor display the whole bit with the napkin.
This woman could act cold and calloused, unbothered, and as much of a smartass as she wanted. The redhead wasn't shy of being human, of having emotions and feeling things, especially when she was already down. Something the private detective clearly hadn't read well coming and sitting at her table. Clearly that was just to mooch.
A smile shaped her lips and her head lightly shook at the ridiculous of the brunette's statement. "Does that make you feel like you've won a disagreement — putting words in people's mouths?"
After she'd handed her card to the waitress, Eliana sighed and leaned back in her seat a bit. Her gaze leveled at the woman. Andrea wanted it both ways, to be the abuser and the victim. It was something she saw often in her office. But she wasn't being paid to work right now. "It was an assumption based on information you'd given me. An assumption is not judgement." It didn't need to be said, she could easily see damage written all over this woman. That much would be obvious even to the most casual observer with the way she spoke and treated someone that had actually been doing her a kindness.
There was a little chuckle at how upset the brunette had actually gotten. She'd already gone low with insults, then had to take a trip even lower in wishing harm. All because Eliana took her handouts away after she'd fucked up. "No, but thank you for the thought. Birds of a feather and all that," the redhead waved it off. "I know some great investigators. I had just been trying to be friendly with you and that clearly backfired."
Then she clicked her tongue against her cheek and winked, finger pointing at Andrea. "Thanks for the warning, though. As someone who works based on reputation, word of mouth, and recommendations though... I'd curb the attitude." How easily could Eliana go ruin this woman's payday right now? Not to mention all the future ones.
"You're welcome for the food and drink," she said before she grabbed her things and headed right for the couple Andrea had been watching.
Despite them standing in the middle of the road, it felt as if walls were closing in on her and she was being cornered with every passing second and sentence that came from his mouth. The realization that his family had been more involved in her late husband's life to the point where they'd come knocking on her door after years, or worse, that he'd visited her home and found it abandoned. A choice she'd made as a means to start a new life and move on. Frankly, she'd left everything that belonged to her late husband in that home outside of his wealth.
For a moment she'd considered setting the house ablaze and collecting insurance on the home but the fear that they would dig further than the house had made her decide otherwise. Now, she wished she had.
"He died. I don't know how clearer you'd like me to get." Her voice was clipped and lacked sympathy, but it was due to her nerves being shot and the fear of Dante's sudden appearance that had her struggling to keep up appearances. "He had an heart attack and since no one had come to visit us or really kept in contact, I figured that you didn't care."
She shrugged her shoulders, deciding to flip the guilt upon him in the hopes that it would remove some of the blame from her. "I hadn't ever kept it a secret. You can find a eulogy online and I figured that once people reached out, I would tell. It wasn't my job, on top of grieving and planning his service, to hunt everyone down and tell them of his passing. I figured that word would travel but I guess it did only to the people who mattered most."
His service had been small with a few people. None were family but that had been deliberate on her part.
"I haven't done anything. Why are you suddenly interested? I'm guessing you want to know if he left you something in the will? I'll give you the name of the person who was in charge of his estate and he will tell you that his will has been handed out as it was written down by your uncle. Your name wasn't on it. So you can vanish now and know that he is at peace."
Safiye turned towards her car to indicate they must be done but he continued to speak and she could only roll her eyes when he twisted her words to implicate that she had murdered him in cold blood.
Not wrong, not right. If anything, she'd accelerated his death.
"I haven't admitted to anything. You've done nothing but twist my words and made up this whole narrative. Call them." She felt like her heart would beat out of her chest but she pulled her phone from her pocket and decided to beat him to it and dialled the cops herself. In this moment, context would mean everything and she'd be damned if they heard his side of the story first.
The more Safiye spoke the more Dante began to realize that information had deliberately been kept from him and his family from this mysterious woman his beloved uncle had married. The one he'd warned Joshua against. At least, that was what her answers had begun to feel like to him. There were two sides to a story and then there was the truth. Of which, the hope that he'd get at least that seemed to dwindle by the seconds.
"You figured word would travel..." The words repeated, Dante hoped she'd realize how absurd that sounded. Especially if she'd shared the news with no one. How was it meant to get around. "Safiye, if you'd been so open about letting all his loved ones know about what happened to Joshua then why didn't you answer any of my calls or texts? How come you never returned a single one of them?"
At her accusation his head shook in disappointment. Maybe also a bit of bewilderment. Grief slowly began to seep into all of the hard edges he'd felt in that moment, but shock and adrenaline had kept Dante from feeling the full force of the loss. "I don't care about the will or being left anything. I never needed his money or estate like you did... but it's pretty telling that you've kept all that from us as well. I suppose I should just take your word for it, huh, what's on it?"
Eyes still locked onto her, "so, I'll easily be able to find and access medical reports, right? A call for an ambulance when he had his heart attack, his visit to the hospital, an autopsy or coroners report, yeah? There's an actual death certificate somewhere...?" He was trying to catch her in her lies, or what felt like them to him, and watched more so for her reaction rather than waiting for what she'd say or come up with next.
"Suddenly interested?" Brow raised, incredulous, he was simply baffled at the things she'd claimed. "You two really didn't know each other well, did you? He and I talked all the time. Which is why it was alarming not hearing from him. It's why his disappearance and now apparent death is incredibly suspicious."
With his phone out he was now record the conversation. This way he could catch lies and also go back and review statements made. He had things to turn over when an investigation came about.
"I'm not twisting your words. I'm challenging you on them. I can back up everything on my side. Can you on yours?" When he saw that she was calling the police herself he felt relief. Dante's ear had begun to ring and the weight of loss had started to push on his shoulders. The man's head was a mess and things felt like they were moving too fast. "Narrative... right. So, I can call up our family attorney, the estate attorney mind you, who also has lost touch with Joshua, and he'll clear up the will story you told me, yeah? Or did that oddly change when you two married or right around his death?"
Nellie nodded worringly, still checking to see if there were any bruises on Amelia. But the girl whispered a small sorry (she was shy around strangers) got up and started skating away, in an attempt to hide the fact she'd become red as a tomato. "I think she's fine, just a bit embarrassed." Nellie herself said, trying to force on a smile as she looked at her daughter once again being a little too fast for comfort. "Listen, I am really sorry. Is there anything that I can do for you? Did you break anything, dirty anything...? I told her to skate slower, but she never listens."
"It's ok, don't worry about it," Dante had began to say as the girl apologized and then skated away as he was finishing up. With her having gone so quiet and having had turned a bright shade of red he'd hoped that the girl was genuinely ok. "Ah, nothing to be embarrassed about. Just an accident. They happen," he said with a shrug, hoping the girl could shake it off. "Nah," his head shook gently, "I'm all good. She's just having some fun, and if anything, I think she might've learned to look up more often." A soft laugh came from him, hoping to lighten the mood. "If anything this is just making me miss the good old days of skating."
"What's been your worst date? I'm only asking because I went on one two days ago and had stain on my hands from doing some DIY's at home and he was convinced that it was something else. He was appalled when I asked him to smell it if he didn't believe it. I should have known when his first picture on his profile was him with a fish."
open to: anyone
location: cafe, restaurant, anywhere
"See, that's why you've gotta be careful about outdoorsmen." Then, after a beat, added, "or just men in general." There was a roll of her eyes that followed. "What was the stain on your hands, what were you working on?" The brunette took a drink of her Modelo and used that time to think back some of the worst dates she'd been on. "I honestly don't date much. I don't have patience for too much bullshit these days," Sammie laughed. "But one of the worst was when the guy took me to his parent's restaurant so that he didn't have to pay for it. His mom literally kept visiting the table too."
“ORDINARILY, I'D AGREE,” he started, “but the thing is… you can’t always catch the little flaws in a used record unless you’re right up on it.” Personally, Theo found the imperfections endearing, a testament to the tangibility of vinyl. It made the songs feel lived in, reflecting the countless lifetimes a single record might have touched. Some covers even came with handwritten notes, dedications to people he would never know. Others, however, weren't as enamored with the sentiment. “Some of the collectors that come in want to check every pop and skip before they spend money on it.” He tossed a nod to the preloved record section. “I listen to everything that gets dropped off, but sometimes imperfections slip through the cracks and I'm getting complaints about track two on the B-side."
It wasn’t about killing the romance—far from it. He loved the warmth of vinyl, the way an album was meant to be played, start to finish. But he’d seen enough people demand to hear a pressing spun three different times, forwards and backward, to know the booth was a necessary evil. Just the other week, he had a collector come through who insisted on listening to each one of the twenty albums he wanted to purchase.
Blue eyes flicked to the records she was holding, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I have something that you might like, though." He stepped towards the closest of the two turntables, pressing a button just behind the deck. "The beauty of modern technology." A blue light sprang to life, pulsing steadily. "You're welcome to bring your own headphones and listen for as long as you'd like."
He chuckled, "Call it a compromise. You get the character, they get the clarity.”
When it came to art and even books Sammie understood the excessive needs collectors had for perfection. Those two things needed to be properly preserved and in pristine condition to be kept. Without that their values went down. In her opinion music was different. "That's what baffles me," her eyes venture from Theo to the preloved section, "as long as it plays and the sleeve isn't tattered and in pieces don't you want the one with all the character? Imagine the stories..."
A little smile cropped up and she lightly chuckled, head shook almost imperceptibly, "first, lets not skip over the fact that you listen to everything." Impressed, the brunette's brow was raised high. "How... how do you even have time for that? Unless you don't get much coming through here," Sammie shrugged. "But, someone complaining over a little bump or scratch? You tell them to get fucked, right?"
It took her moment, arms still clutching the record to her, before she moved to the turntable with Theo. A small smile hooked at the corner of the brunette's mouth as she handed over the record to him. "Now you're getting romantic on me," she joked, then nodded about bringing her own headphones. "Any chance of a bluetooth connection so that I could listen through AirPods or my Bose?"
Eyes pinned on his profile, Sammie couldn't help herself. "Be completely honest with me. Do you listen to digital or records more? Are you constantly going through playlists on Spotify or Apple Music or are you putting a record on and letting it play?"
iris didn’t answer right away. she let his words stretch and settle into the quiet around them, like dust disturbed only briefly before drifting back into place. for a moment, the only sound between them was the soft rustle of paper — somewhere behind the desk, the whir of an old fan pushing stale air through stories no one had touched in months. she could’ve said something quick, something sharp to parry that sideways tilt of his head or the edge she heard beneath the words. but instead, she traced the spine of the book in her lap — the book of disquiet, as if the universe had a sense of humor—and looked up at him through the strands of hair fallen loose around her cheek. “you don’t look like that person,” she said, voice low and plainspoken. “you look like someone still deciding who gets the blame.” her mouth curved again, faint and wry, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now that it was hanging in the air, she wouldn’t take it back. she unfolded her legs, slow and deliberate, pressing her palms to the floor as she stood with the same kind of ease someone might use when rising from a pew. a little reverent. a little tired. “and for what it’s worth,” she added, brushing the dust from her jeans, “music absolutely keeps score. but the ledger’s messy. songs forget on purpose. books…” she gestured to the shelves with one hand, the other resting lightly on her hip, “...books remember everything. even what you try to leave out.” her gaze flicked to the aisle behind him — the one with the occult section, where the paper edges curled like dried leaves and titles whispered things they didn’t say outright. she stepped past him without hurrying, the distance between them shrinking not in confrontation, but in familiarity. like they were walking two sides of the same underlined passage. “you want to know the truth about crossroads?” she asked, pausing just shy of the darker stacks, the ones that smelled of candle wax and binding glue, “it’s not about making deals. it’s about deciding what you’re willing to leave behind so you can carry something else forward.” her head tilted, eyes catching his like a match catching kindling. “you ever think maybe it wasn’t a curse? just too many people failing you at the same time, and fate being the scapegoat you chose because it’s easier to hate something that can’t defend itself?” then, softer—gentler, even, but no less pointed. “it’s not about deserving it. none of it ever is. it’s just — what do you do after?” the question hung in the space between them, threadbare but not cruel. and after a beat, iris turned, fingers trailing across the spines as she walked into the shadows of the shelf-lined corridor. but her voice floated back to him, dry and calm and just a little amused — “don’t worry. i’m not trying to make a deal. i’ve made enough of those to know they always cost more than you think.” a pause. “but if you’re here to break something,” she added, “you might want to start with the story you’ve been telling yourself about how it ends.”
There was something so deliberate about her. The way she way she did or didn't look at him, the mindless mannerisms that people never realized they did that gave them away in any situation, but especially the way she she seemed to thoroughly think before she spoke. Not a dishonest move, but maybe as someone who cautiously toed the line of understanding. It was the way she read into him, or tried her best to, that said to Dante that she wanted to be understood. By herself and by everyone around her.
As an honest man he struggled with her statement and how casually she laid it out. "I know who to blame," Dante replied, no waver in his voice or his gaze. For this, he was certain. "I'm well aware and often up front about my faults. It's just..." The pause was for a way to word his thoughts and motivations. A finger lightly scratched behind his ear. "I'm not feeling cursed because of my own wrongdoings. It's the multiple betrayals in a short time frame."
Maybe time had caught up with him. That karmic scale had said he'd had it too good for too long. Either way, he allowed her a little more space when she gracefully got to her feet and seemingly led the way to a subject most would shy away from. He'd nodded in agreement about music and books but her words about crossroads slowed his movements at her side. "Sounds like you've made a deal or two. That bit of knowledge doesn't come without experience..." It was leading, in hopes she'd share what had led her to such. If only so he wouldn't feel alone as he stood at the proverbial fork in the road.
"I didn't deserve it," Dante stated after hearing her out. "You know the worst level of hell is reserved for betrayers, right?" Might as well get biblical since they were talking about the crossroads, the place you made a deal with the devil. "I don't hate those that betrayed me. In fact, I might still be in love with one of them. I'm not looking to scapegoat or figure out who's to blame. What I need is to understand, to find a reason, to know why it happened and all around the same time." It seemed natural to seek answers and meaning in the lowest of times. "And that's where I'm at," Dante acknowledged with a nod of his head, "where do I go from here?" That was exactly his predicament and why he was lost and wandering currently in his life.
Then he smiled a little at her, "and what story have I been telling myself?" He'd been left without answers and in the dark. That's what he'd been trying to grasp. The why of it all so that he could move on. "Maybe we never get to know the reasons..." Dante trailed off as his crystal blue eyes went to the books. It wasn't likely that he'd see a title on a spine that spoke directly to his problems. "So, why'd you keep making deals if you already knew the price was too high?"