alara-kahya

[alara-kahya]

"You're so sure," that his mother would love her, "Sounds like you think you've got me all figured out. How bold." Lifting both her brows in amusement, she shakes her head. "Do you often think about if your mother would like the women you're trying to be charming with?" Still clearly amused, eyes now laced with a devilish mischief. For better or worse, his ego was something she decided was hers to toy with. "The promise of good food is appealing, and if you're looking for someone to bring home to mother, that's cute, but my advice? Keep looking, I'm not the one." Of course she knew he hadn't meant it that way, or rather, she didn't think he did. It was just too good of an opportunity to twist his words and amuse herself with them.

"Please," she scoffed a laugh, "You think I'm a dork and ashamed of it? Interesting. I am actually a dork, as you say, and I'm not ashamed. But I still didn't name that dog." Chuckling, she takes a sip from her refreshment. "Sure, blame the drunk alter-ego. Poor Eric." With a light roll of her eyes, she settled her arms on the table, watching him curiously. His silence felt loud, and she wondered what it was he was thinking about. "Uh-huh," she begins, almost absently as her brown eyes still lingered on his features. "...Luckily I'm not expecting you to prove anything," she adds, finding that her gaze remained unrelenting. She was studying him, and instead of continuing to wonder, she chose to try and satisfy her own curiosity. "Where did you go just then? In here," tapping the side of her head, she's not sure if he'd answer, or if he'd answer her truthfully.

It was always good fun to poke at the male bravado, but never let it be said that she didn't know when not to. Topics that required a level of serious thought and consideration were never going to get sarcastic reactions from her. "Nice," she chuckles at his use of the word, nodding with a look of soft levity. "Well, it doesn't get less scary as they grow, but it's always nice." Smiling now, she shrugs. "If it's meant to be, it will be. And if not, being a cool Uncle is a fabulous title all on its own."

"No need. I just wanted an excuse to give you a drink." His shoulders lifted into a nonchalant shrug, barely registering as if he had any care whether she'd accepted or not, but he was, without a doubt trying to play a game in which he would most likely get eaten alive...Celal was a sucker for punishment, it seemed. "Caught me red-handed, ain't ya?" leaning back in his chair, relaxing into an easy, laboured grin. Alara called him out—challenged him—much like the drink. This was refreshing, a far cry from the more superficial conversations he was used to. Politics had fed into the notion that one must lie to get what they wanted out of something, and he, himself, at some point, had adopted that same approach. He used it every day in the ATF when he was doing his job. But her? He liked that about her, the way she didn’t shy away from speaking her mind. Refreshing, indeed.

"You’re right, I’m not sorry, not one bit," a grin still playing on his lips. "But I stand by what I said: my mother would fuckin' love you." Still absolutely terrifying to even think about, let alone speak about...and yet, here he was. "And you’d love her cooking. Her Turkish food? Mwah. Perfect." pointing at Alara, he gave her a knowing nod. "She’d probably have you stay for dinner and then send you home with enough food to last a week." He paused, gnawing momentarily onto his bottom lip, thinking about how often his mother had done just that with his friends, loading them up with Tupperware and plastic bags full of leftovers. How much he missed her, but thankful that he was close to Ender.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, a cheeky grin pinched at cheeks. "Look, I don't know you very well. You could be making all of this up just so you don't look like a dork that names her pets after food items. And if that's the case, you'd make a cute dork, but," hand finding his heart, trying not to laugh as he shook his head, "There's no need to lie, Alara...it's okay �� " Celal, unable to contain his laughter, doubled over. "Sorry," once again, he was not. "I'm having too much fuckin' fun. Uh, nah, Rizla just...stuck. Felt no need to change it, thought it was...y'know, unique...or some shit. Ah, don't ask me, my drunk motivations are a different person entirely. We'll call him...Eric. And me? I don't want to piss Eric off, because the next time I have a drink? God knows what he'll do." eyeing Alara as he took a slow sip of his drink. He was...talking, rambling, even — god, fuck. Was he nervous?

This man was aware he was out of his fucking depth.

Adorable. The way she said it, a slap to the balls. If she was willing to take any man and crush them — Celal had a feeling she would. Lying, he was. Alara had him already figured out. In truth, Celal needed to find out who he was without a woman by his side. And Afet, and then Sera. In truth, he thought with his dick first and his head later...but there were some things he was hoping would mature as time went on. He realised quickly he'd fallen silent, licking at his lips as he shifted them into a make-shift smile. "Begs the question, doesn't it? How can one prove it in conversation — it's something that comes with time? I was only reiterating the fact of what you'd expect in my company. " a small smile, unreadable...almost.

Everything he was saying was a bunch of bollocks.

"He is, and a great one. Makes me realise..." maybe he wasn't cut out to be a father — he didn't have...whatever it was that Ender had. But even as he sat there, considering her question about being a dad someday. His mind was blank. Empty. Zilch. It wasn’t something he’d really talked about with anyone, not even his brother, even when he'd discussed it with Afet...he'd wanted to avoid it. Call it commitment issues — and yet, the man had been married for god knows how long."Uh, maybe," voice quieter, thoughtful now. "I think, well, y'know...I just...maybe. Love the title of cool uncle. I like being the one who shows up with gifts and bad jokes." He laughed, "There’s something about having your own little person, someone who looks up to you and drives you crazy at the same time. That sounds...nice. But also...scary as hell, but nice." fingers tapped idly on the rim of his glass as he spoke, his mind drifting to the idea of what that life might look like.

He'd need a wife for that — and well, he'd squandered that.

[alara-kahya]

"Thanks," she laughed, knowing she'd probably need it. Still, she supposed there were worse things than a child who couldn't sleep when they should be. "It'll happen. Maybe she needs to be enticed with sprinkles and the promise of something sweet by the end of it." Chuckling, she shrugged her shoulders, taking a sip from her drink before placing it down. "Thick as thieves then?" Alara smiled, deciding that was the only takeaway she wanted to comment on. Saying what he'd done was admirable was a given, but she worried it would come off almost patronising to say so. "Perfect, I'll look forward to it." Nodding, she looked towards the little girl who was readily getting up from her spot. The way she stepped back as if to admire her own work pulled a soft laugh from Alara. "I think her masterpiece is complete. I'll store it with the rest, it will be dry by tomorrow though, you can pick it up whenever. It's A3 size," looking towards him with a grin and a shrug. "In case you want to frame it."

“I wish you luck,” he chuckled, knowing firsthand just how tricky it was to negotiate bedtime with a child. Like he imagined Alara did, Ender treasured every moment with Layla, but he’d be lying if he said he sometimes wished bedtime was a bit smoother to navigate. He could hardly complain though, not when he felt so blessed to be her dad and she kept him so grounded. “Not a bad plan,” he commented at Alara’s suggestion to get his daughter in the kitchen now. If anything, they could start with something small, perhaps make a game out of it and make it fun, like she was saying. “Honestly, she’s so curious, I’m shocked she hasn’t joined in already.” Sipping at his coffee, a hint of a smile remaining on his lips as his thoughts lingered on his daughter, he glanced over at Alara, having come to expect questions like the one she’d just posed. He didn’t find it invasive. To him, it just felt like the natural flow of conversation, and it was one he was used to answering. “Not at all,” he assured her, just wanting to say upfront that he wasn’t bothered by her asking. “But yeah– just us. Actually,” he paused, lowering his voice just in case the little girl was eavesdropping, “I adopted Layla when she was a baby– it’s been the two of us ever since.” They’d become quite the dynamic duo and Ender wouldn’t trade it for the world. Snorting a laugh, he shook his head, downplaying his offer to bring a plate, “Sure, sure. It’s no problem, really. Luckily, I don’t think I’ll have to bribe her to come back– she seems pretty content with a brush in her hand.”

[alara-kahya]

"Nothing wrong with that, you can't burn us all." Witches, that was - the comment pulled a soft chuckle from her as she watched the woman drive off. "Leave it to a woman to make sure they do." Shrugging with a clear smirk, she couldn't say she wasn't inclined to think that men only ever paid for any sin when they were cornered by the opposite sex. But that being said, she was aware that was probably more her pessimism bleeding through than anything else. "I'm just observant. And I've never watched gossip girl, for the record." Alara grinned, offering him one of the two slushies she'd bought for herself. "Blue raspberry. It's hot out here, if you're going to stand and car stalk, you should stay refreshed." Teasing, of course, with no care for if he could take a joke or not. Still, the gesture came from a good place, a kind place. "Why? Going to judge me too?" Smirking, she nods over to the black car on the left side of the parking lot. "Bentley," flying spur, speed, in black, to be specific, but she didn't feel the need. He wouldn't need her to tell him if he really was some kind of car wizard. "Come on then, critique it, promise I won't cry. I might run you over if you're rude, but that's another issue."

Noticing the woman beside him, he found himself laughing at the explanation at the attrocity across from them. Andrés' eyebrows shot up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Women with a bit of spice had always peaked his interest, not that he ever stayed long enough to see what became of it once he left. "Karma era? Sounds witchy. Hell of a way to make a point, though" He took a drag from his cigarette, eyes never leaving the woman in front of him. "Can’t say I blame her. A man's gotta pay for his sins somehow." the irony was, if he'd been made to pay for his -- the list would be ever-growing.

Small town. There was a beauty in a place like this, commonality, easy to fit in, however, sometimes, it was so close-knit, it was hard to get anything past them. They couldn't stay for too long without questions being raised, and suspicions. So they kept on the move. For now, this was home base. "You're like the town's gossip girl, or whatever that shit is that girls watch." he didn't want to admit how he'd seen that show, but it was enough to dust tanned cheeks under the blazing Nevada sunlight. Gesturing back towards her. "What do you drive?" it felt like a natural progression from their inital starting topic.

[alara-kahya]

"It's refreshing," she agrees. "I'll buy you one back. I wouldn't want to rob from your furniture fund." Not that she didn't appreciate a free drink, of course. Maybe she was just feeling generous this evening. "Of course she would if I just agreed with what she's been trying to tell you herself." Laughing at the thought, she'd learned from experience that usually mothers really did know best. "Forward of me?" She scoffs, pointing to herself, "says the guy who just said his mother would love me." Alara raises a challenging brow and shakes her head. "You're not sorry at all." Amusement is still obvious in the way her lips curved into a smile, never one to protest to a little back and forth.

"Uh, excuse me, are you suggesting I'm lying? Toast was named by a little boy who was only three, at the time. What was I supposed to do, tell him to name the dog something more socially common? I'm an artist, I don't stifle creative thought." Playfully arguing, she can't help the light roll of her eyes. "What was your excuse after you sobered up? Did Rizla protest a name change?" Humming as if curious, she couldn't resist mocking him just a little.

"You say that like you thought you were ever a challenge to figure out. See? Adorable." In reference to her earlier comment about the male ego being adorably fragile. "I'd say you were most likely lying," she smirks. "Plus, people who actually are different usually don't feel the need to say so." Alara chuckles, not saying it so he would prove her wrong, she just thought she'd voice her opinion since he asked for it. Whether he could take it or not was his problem.

"He is?" She was curious, mostly because she instantly thought of the man who had come to an art class with his daughter. Two faces she hadn't seen before and given the size of the town's population, it didn't feel like a huge jump to be thinking it could be the same person. The Turkish accent felt like a slight giveaway. "I wouldn't say alone," smiling fondly, she'd never take all the credit for raising a beautiful little boy. She always had her mom, Emiri and her twin there, and as of the last year, Kian's father, too. "Yet..." picking up on his use of the word. "You wanna be bumped from cool Uncle to dad one day?" There's no real reason she's asking, she's just making conversation.

Celal took a sip of his drink, the Bellini hitting the spot as he hummed. "You're also blessed that I have a fantastic taste in drink ordering, because that is insane." Smirking at the fact he was now in company, and that was far better than he'd planned the rest of the evening. Spending time with his brother was great, spending time with Alara...better.

Pausing, he playfully narrowed his gaze. "My mother would love you and that is terrifying." and he meant that, not in a creepy or forward way, genuinely. "I guess compromise isn't completely out of the picture. Is this the deal? I buy a bedframe and that way, you'll paint me some art? Very forward of you, Alara. I must say." His grin turning cheeky, pinched cheeks and shaded eyes squinting as he barked a laugh, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm sorry," hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"Well, Toast and Rizla would make quite the pair, don't you think?" the corner of his mouth tilting, sat somewhere between a smirk and a smile. "Though I'm not sure who's more eccentric, you for having a dog named Toast — even if you claim that you didn't name the poor boy that or me for naming a plant after rolling papers. I own the fact that I named my plant that." A drunken night, stumbling home and somewhere along the way, he'd picked the plant pot up (from someone else's garden) and began carrying it home. Naughty, he was aware, considering his profession. "After...thirteen beers my judgement may've been a little...hazed."

Celal's head reeled back, amusement dashing over all his features, eyes alight under the ray bans. "Intentions?" The words were somewhere between mock offence and humored. "You think you already have me figured out — " his ego most likely couldn't handle the berating Alara would give him. But it didn't mean that Celal had some kind of deluded sense of what he could achieve in his life, and withstand. "You group us all together, but what if I told you I was different?" He wasn't.

Celal was many things, but his opinion on single parenthood wasn't something he thought badly of, or would ever deter him. Even if he'd spent most of his life with the idea of this perfect image, of what his life was meant to look like. "My brother's a single parent." He admitted, a small smile dulling that earlier grin. "I have nothing but respect for anyone who has to do it alone. I've never been lucky enough to have a child of my own..." he paused, raising his hand. "Yet. But something like that...just never bothered me, y'know? Be it what you will."

[alara-kahya]

"I go by many titles," pressing a hand to her lower stomach, she dipped forward in a mocking bow. Grinning into the rim of her cup as she took a couple of sips. "His size may intimidate others, but not me, it was only right he got held accountable, the clumsy oaf." Chuckling, she shrugged, peering absently out at the crowds. "Doesn't sound like a bad plan, the free drinks do appeal." Alara chuckled, clinking their glasses and nodding her head. "Come on, let's venture further in, see what we stumble upon. I feel like I keep missing the actual performances because I'm always somewhere questing for alcohol."

Gia’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she took the drink from her friend, suppressing a giggle. "Oh, you are my hero!" she declared dramatically, raising the glass in a mock toast before taking a long sip.Her grin widened as she followed the direction her friend pointed, easily spotting the hulking figure in the crowd. "Him? I swear, you could convince anyone of anything. Serve's him fucking right." With a mischievous smirk, Gia added, "If he causes any more trouble, just let me know. I'll back you up with my own waterworks. We could be the dynamic damsel duo, unstoppable in our quest for justice and free drinks!" She winked, raising her glass again in a toast to their shared antics and unbreakable friendship.

[alara-kahya]

"Good answer." She chuckled, raising a brow as he continued to point out pretty much what she was thinking. Third class, her? Never. "What can I say, I'm blessed." She huffs out a mocking laugh, intending it as a joke, she was confident but hopefully not arrogant with it. Not that she really cared how he interpreted her.

"On a practical level, wanting art before furniture makes me feel like your priorities are a little muddled," she laughed. "Look, if it helps, I need to see the space and then I need time to create something, so I think you'd have time to get yourself a bedframe, at least. Keep your mom happy." Alara smiled, raising a brow at the mention of a plant. "Rizla? Like rolling papers?" She snorts. "Not that I'm judging, I couldn't possibly when I have a dog named Toast. Though I will point out I didn't choose his name."

"Well I'm already four drinks in and whether I think you're handsome or not doesn't really have anything to do with your intentions, does it?" Looking at him with amusement, she shakes her head. "I'd walk all over you, the male ego is adorably fragile." Smirking, at least if he chose to try his luck, she'd openly read her own warning label. "No wonder they weren't cheap, pretty sure that's the most expensive thing on the list." Laughing, she makes a mental note to buy the next round if she was still sitting here when they'd finished the first. "I'm a mom." Alara nods, confirming. "He's five, nearly six, and a complete angel, actually. Which is only fair considering the entire nine months I spent growing him had me knocking on death's door. Cheers," she laughs, lifting the glass and taking a generous gulp. Brown eyes sparkle with mischief as they narrow on his. "Rethinking the will to flirt now? Single mom, ahhh, retreat, retreat."

“Definitely because you’re an artist." using his hand to gesture to her outfit, as his brows rose to meet his hair like, heading tilting. It was an appreciative once over. "Let's be honest, looking the way you do. Third class has never even been in your vocabulary." Settling back into the plastic seat, he couldn't help himself. Celal had always been a little off-hand, in the sense that he'd say what he thought. He was confident in that regard.

The sarcasm dripping from her tone was enough to have him bark a laugh in response. “Apparently, four walls and a ceiling aren’t enough to make a place homey, and the mattress on the floor is not as comfortable as I thought -- I think my mother was lying when she said art wouldn't make me feel better. At least I'd have something to look at.” Rolling his eyes dramatically. By the bar, he could see a tray being brought over that looked oddly like the drinks he'd just forked out a fortune for. This place wasn't fucking cheap, that was for certain. “I do have some plants that are somehow...and I really mean that, somehow, still alive, it’s starting to feel like a real apartment. Me, the mattress of the floor, and Rizla, my cheese plant.”

He truly did need some art and made a mental note to contact her next week. "Wouldn’t dream of ordering anything non-alcoholic, plus, you wouldn't think I'm handsome without a couple drinks, and then how am I am supposed to flirt with you, then, huh?" it slipped out before he could stop himself, but the look on his face said as much — he didn't care. "Two Bellini's, I thought it'd be kinda refreshing with the heat, y'know?" Except the second he reevaluated what she said, a look of surprise crossed his face. "You're a mom? I'm not sure if you told me that before, but it slipped my mind, if you did." a soft smile touching his lips, thinking of his brother and Layla. "How old? If you don't mind me asking."

[alara-kahya]

headcanon:

For at least 5 years, Alara has been the one responsible for the random appearances of large graffiti art across the sides of Tonopah buildings. Never signing her work, never admitting to it & always doing it at random dates and in the dead of night when nobody is around. There is but a handful of people who know that she's behind it and those are her mother, Emiri, Taliah & Logan.

She does this as a form of expression and also because she gets a little kick out of hearing the chatter in the days following. Especially if someone comes into her store and asks her if she's 'seen the art or graffiti'. Joining in the conversation as if she isn't the culprit makes her internally laugh.

It's been over a year since her last public building piece, but she's made a comeback with this (picture above). As of last week, the side of a building in the Downtown area is now covered with a large spray-painted image of Medusa. Once known as a Priestess / beautiful handmaiden, she was wrongly punished all thanks to a man. Punished to live with snakes for hair and eyes that turn flesh into stone. For Alara, Medusa represents strength, pain & survival. Relating to her on a level where only she knows the reason why, she's an artistic advocate for all visual representations of her.

[alara-kahya]

Tag: @giawoodss Location: Tonopahella

"I made it," she huffed out a breath, shoving through the last of the bodies to reach Gia. "I would have been quicker if some Neanderthal hadn't crashed into me and made me drop our drinks." Frowning as she hands Gia's over to her. "Don't worry, I made him cough up and pay for a new round, not that he didn't try to protest." Breaking into a grin, she glances around, pointing out the man in the crowd easily. "Him." The one that towered over everyone else and was built like a brick house, all muscles and veins. "I told him I was a tiny, little, fragile woman and if he didn't replace what he spilt I'd cause a scene with tears and wails. Of course I wouldn't have, I'd have sooner kicked him in the crotch, but he didn't know that."

[alara-kahya]

Squeezing her way through the bundles of people with nothing but the drinks stall in her sight, causing a light scowl at the size of the line. Her attention turned towards the voice, scowl twisting into amusement as she recognised the face. "I hope that's because I'm an artist and not because I look third class." Teasing, mostly because she knew that even on her worst day, she was always first class. Not that she couldn't be humbled, but got help the soul who'd try. "Furniture to make it livable, really? Well, that's news to me, I had no idea." Laughing, she waves off his apology. "Don't worry about it, honestly. Having your furniture is a priority, I understand." Shrugging, she glances between the seat and the line for the drinks. "Oh? Well if you don't mind? Thanks." Politely accepting, she slides onto the chair, setting her shades down on the table. "What did you order? If it's not alcohol I'm going to have to get up and order my own. Child-free nights and festivals are for drinking, dancing, and greasy food. It's the way it has to be. Alara law. One must abide."

FOR: @alara-kahya WHERE: Tonopahella Music Festival.

Celal had been lost in his own world, watching the world go by. His brother had popped off somewhere around ten minutes ago, which had left him the time to reflect. On what? Work, the gym, the unread books that were gathering dust in his room. He simply didn't have the time — so to let loose, it was nice. Sure. But even still, he wanted to be curled up in bed reading the latest political updates.

But now he was here. It was only when dark brown hair and a familiar set of eyes walked on by that recognition filtered in. Alara.

"If it isn't the female version of Jack Dawson in person." Celal half-cracked a joke, pushing to stand from the chair he'd been sitting in as he closed the space. "Sorry I haven't booked in yet. Life's been a little crazy. You wouldn't have guessed it, but my apartment actually requires furniture to make it livable, apparently?" he scoffed a playful laugh. "Who would've thought?" even as he his features shifted into a lazy grin, using his hand to gesture to the seat opposite him. "I just ordered two for one and the drinks are fuckin' expensive. So feel free to take the one that's coming."

[alara-kahya]

[alara-kahya]

You know I’m not broken, right?

[alara-kahya]

hande erçel via instagram

[alara-kahya]

Hot. Too fucking hot, even for her. It had her walking straight to the store on her lunch break to purchase not one, but two blue raspberry slushies for herself. She really should install her own in her shop, but until then, the store was only a five-minute walk and right now, a total godsend.

Exiting with a child-like dimpled grin, staring at the two slushies in her hands with pure glee, she pauses to zone in on the voice beside her. With a quick glance behind her, because she didn't want to embarrass herself if he was talking to someone else, she raised a brow.

A quick inspection of the motor in question, she snorts a little laugh. "She didn't pay a thing for it, she technically stole it from her ex-boyfriend who cheated on her with her best friend. And he hasn't reported her because if he does, she's got enough on him to send him down for at least a decade." Smirking, she looks towards Andrés and shrugs.

"Small town." As a way of explanation for how she even knew that in the first place. "Don't know what her excuse is for keeping it, she does have her own car, so my assumption is that she's living in her karma era and letting him know she's in control." Alara could be wrong of course, but the car was ugly by looks and sound, so she didn't have another logical explanation. "Good for her, I say."

FOR: Open to all.

WHEN: June 30th, 24.

WHERE: Parking lot outside of 7/11. Daytime.

His deep brown eyes drifted across the sweltering parking lot, his features slipping into something akin to contemplation: this place was unfamiliar. As were all their settlements. There was something to be loved about their ability to up and leave when they needed to, something that Andrés would never change. Set in his old ways like that. And frankly, he didn't attempt to fix what didn't need fixing.

The heat today, though! Absolutely relentless, battering down on his head: baking whatever brain cells he had left. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, his lip twitched into a grimace. Though he was no stranger to high temperatures, today's...was oppressive. Enough that he grumbled a sigh as his hand delved into his pocket to retrieve a lighter, sliding the shades over his eyes.

A car in the distance rumbled to life, the flame licking the end of his smoke before he peered over the rim of his glasses, his brow kinking. "What is that, a four-cylinder tryin' to act tough?" he snorted under his breath. Kids these days didn't know what the beauty of class was. And he didn't mean class in the sense of money, oh no, but in the way they were reconstructed, built.

The bell to the shop opening behind him had a glance over his shoulder.

"How much you think he paid for that piece of shit?"

[alara-kahya]

"Says you, Miss fucking Sunshine," she pulled a mocking face before breaking back into a grin. It was all in jest, of course, she adored the way Emiri always had a softer outlook on things, it balanced her pessimism perfectly. And did, on occasion, help put it aside, but only occasionally. "I look hot in everything, but black and red work best for my complexion." Smirking, she sees nothing wrong with complimenting herself, despite the judgemental look she got from the table next to them. Some middle-aged blonde lady looking at her as if she was an arrogant youth, it only made Alara give a fake smile as she tipped her glass towards her. "Rude." She muttered, certainly not about to apologise for having confidence in herself, if only the woman knew how fucking hard she'd worked and for how long just to feel good about herself. "Tuesday? I was going to ask my mom if she wants Kian, but if you're free, I know he'd love a night with his Auntie Em?" Shrugging, it was just a suggestion, Emiri knew there was never any pressure to say yes. "What I'm doing should take me about five hours, so I can stay until he's gone to bed and be back before the sun goes up. Like I was never gone at all. You can be my alibi, my partner in crime."

She giggled lightly at her friend, back of her hand covering her mouth momentarily as she did so. "I mean... wouldn't be a bad thing." to adapt that same energy, there was nothing wrong with being the dreamer of improbable dreams, after all. "You could - you should, you look hot in black." she nodded softly in approval, especially when the more she thought of Alara in green, the more she'd suggest another colour. Either way, whether the speed dating was a hit right now or not, she'd only put out something similar out there again. It wasn't that she didn't know her friend was amazing, independent, and good succeeding on her own without a man, she just also knew how happy she had been with love. Emiri noted Alara's smirk and her brow instantly quirked, wondering where she was exactly going to go - or what she was going to come out with. "Oohhh..." she begins, her smile only getting wider as those cogs seemed to just turn, "Okay... okay... yeah I still have it, it's in the garage." the ladder, that was. "You tell me when you want them and I'll bring them over, Banksy." it was a small quiet tease.

[alara-kahya]

"Sounds like a good plan. My plan is to try and get my son from here to home, eat dinner and entertain him enough that he's still willing to go to bed at his normal time." Snorting a laugh because she already knows how that's not going to go well at all. "He's not really one for tantrums but he is a talker... I'm going to be listening to him talk about his dinosaurs at 2am, I just know it." Alara shakes her head, smiling warmly at the thought. Despite the fact she'd prefer to be asleep by then, it wasn't possible for her not to find everything her baby did completely and innocently adorable. "You could start teaching her now, make it fun so she enjoys it. I think that's what my mom did. She conditioned me to think it was fun so I wanted to continue to do it as I got older." A soft laugh, she takes a sip from her drink as she notes how he didn't seem to be mentioning a mother in the picture. Never one to hold back, she asks, "Is it just you two? If you don't mind me wondering." He didn't have to talk about it, for all she knew, she could have just hit an awful wound. In fact, it would be the first assumption she'd make, but of course, there were many other reasons Layla's mother may not be around. "You'd do that?" Gasping in some kind of food awe, she grins brightly with a nod. "Deal. Listen, if Lalya says she doesn't want to come back, I'd say... Tell her if she does, I'll give her the first pick from the candy stall, as much as she wants. Whatever will get me that gözleme."

“Well thank you,” he nodded, a warm smile brightening his features, “We’ll go out for ice cream after this and I’ll pick her brain, see what she’s thinking.” He really was feeling optimistic about this– if Layla had found something she enjoyed, something she could develop a passion for, then that was all he wanted as a father. Chuckling softly, Ender nodded again, easily in agreement with Alara, “Honest observation sounds a lot better than bias. I’ll take it.” Layla really was a good kid though, and he didn’t feel like he was embellishing at all by saying so. “Doesn’t get much better than that. Can’t wait until Layla’s old enough to cook for me, honestly,” he snorted, a soft smile forming at the corner of his mouth. Listening as Alara listed off more of her favorites, Ender couldn’t help the small little pangs of nostalgia prodding at him. While he loved the life he’d been afforded in the States, he’d always miss home. “Good choice.” As if on cue, he felt his stomach rumble, reminding him that he still had to plan his and Layla’s dinner later on that evening. He understood what Alara meant though– the foods they wanted weren’t just sold on every street corner. “Well, how about this? If Layla wants to come back, I’ll bring you a plate of my mother’s gözleme?”

[alara-kahya]

"Yes well, I can't say I blame you. After all, it is men she's known to turn into stone." Not women, as the myth portrays. The thought pulls a laugh from her, mostly just amused by the joking nature of their conversation. Even if she, in actual fact, did scare herself sometimes into thinking she saw the model move, usually when it was dark out and she was here on her own.

"Washington," she raises a curious brow. "Quite the move then, what made you choose here?" She wonders, allowing her own curiosity to lead.

"I did," paint all of those. "I display aspiring artists' work in the window, I have a year waiting list at the moment. I just display one artist there for a week at a time, get their work some traction and attention, so feel free to have a look." Alara smiles, always one to promote other work. For all she knew, Celal might prefer the aspiring's work to hers, in which case she'd happily put them in touch. Art was meant to be selfless, it wasn't about sales, it was about what you were really drawn to.

Silently walking over to him, brown eyes look towards the painting he was describing, rather accurately. It surprised her a little, enough to create an impressed smirk and brow raise. "It is sad, beautifully so, though you're the first one to really pick up on that." Well, in her opinion, it was meant to be a piece that represented both beauty and sadness as an intertwined source. "Modern 70's minus technology..." A dimpled, amused grin spreads across her face as she looks towards the second piece. "Okay, well I can't say I thought of it that way but actually..." Pausing just to look it over for a couple seconds, she can't help but relent into a nod. "I can see why you'd draw that summary, and yes, actually I think, if you'll excuse the pun, you've painted me a perfect picture of what you like. I'll break your heart another day."

Nodding back over to the counter, she walks first to grab her notepad. "Okay, so if you want, I do offer home visits where we can discuss what you'd want and where. Sizes, shapes, canvases, frames... I'm going to give you my card, it has a link to my website. It'll give you all the information you need, rather than me overwhelming you with it right now. All you need to do is look on the drop down menu, there's an application section where you can click everything from colours to budgets. You can also upload pictures, yeah? Of your home, where you'd want the pieces to hang and such like. From there, I reply back to you with my ideas, and before I go further I do draw up A4 visuals, so you can see what you'd be getting." Alara smiles, handing him the card. "Or," she laughs, "if I've totally boggled your mind just by explaining that, we can take it one painting at a time. Show me a wall and I'll create some ideas for you, see if I'm understanding your vibe properly?"

"Dream catchers as well? Might just be my lucky day," he coughed a laugh, thankful as he took the glass. Sipping the cold water, he took a closer look at the canvases displayed around the room, each one offering Something...for someone. His taste he guessed wasn't particular, but it wasn't whatever this one was...even if he couldn't deny it was beautiful. Celal just didn't quite know...what it was.

Art was meant to be subjective, right?

"You know, if I worked for you, I'd refuse to do the close-up shift. No fucking way in hell I'd be left in a room with...her." And he wasn't joking. There was a lot Celal could take, his career being one of them. But not that. Nope. However, the question about where he'd come from had him stalling. "Washington." Truth, but not entirely. It was where he'd been living with his soon-to-be ex-wife, Afet, before he came here. The image of her launching her engagement ring at his head was forever ingrained in his brain.

Celal's head cocked to the side, brows raising, as his eyes flickered to the art on the walls. "Did you paint all of these?" momentarily stunned, he'd thought she simply collected pieces. Lips parting, and then closing again. Taking a moment, he placed the glass down, as he began to walk between each piece. There was a variety, even if she said there were mainly only select pieces here.

"This one -- I like," his face falling as he took it in. "I think it's supposed to be happy...but...I don't know why? It makes me feel...sad. Kind of lost." And he liked that, the art he loved needed to invoke something. Not just nice emotions, the nitty gritty. He didn't linger, moving on, as his hands found home in his pockets. "And this, it gives me...70s meets the modern world but without technology." A laugh bubbled from his lips, as he turned to face her. "Got a read on me yet through my taste in art? If you call me weird for my combination, you'll break my heart. I promise."

Celal turned to face her when she said her name. "Nice to meet you, Alara," a warm smile curled the corner of his mouth as he shook her hand. "Celal."

[alara-kahya]

Minding her own business, one headphone in, Alara was happily awaiting her order of fries to go with her mocktail when the raven-haired girl approached her. Hearing what she had to say, she smiled instantly, taking out the headphone and pocketing it. "Of course, come here." Gesturing, she slid off the bar stool and gave the girl a light hug, all in aid of it looking convincing enough to the on-looker that they were friends. Alara was a girls girl through and through, she didn't need the promise of a free drink to help her out. "If he dares come over here, I'll bark at him, don't think I won't." She chuckled, sitting back down just in time for her fries to arrive. "Help yourself," putting them in between them, she picks one out to munch on. "Is it the dark-haired guy in the sweatshirt? He's still looking at you." Well, them now, but hopefully he'd take the hint and go away on his own. "Alara. Nice to meet you."

Location: The Outpost

Status: Open to anyone!

To say that Catarina's love life seemed like a comedy would be a bit of an understatement. She was supposed to be meeting up with someone for a few drinks she had chatted up with a few days earlier. It was just meant to be casual, but she had the sneaky feeling she was getting stood up. Had someone put a hex on her? Who knows, but there she was sitting at the bar and already about to be on her third drink and the vibes were not there.

Turning to the indivudual seated a few seats down from her, she raises a brow to them. "Next round is on me if you can talk to me about anything for the next five minutes. Pretty sure the creep in the corner won't stop staring at me and I'm not interested," she sighs.