cfmysteries

[cfmysteries]

ZELIHA, you say you were in the building the night this tragedy occurred. did you hear any of the commotion coming from upstairs ? did it sound like a disagreement to you, or an intruder ??

"Unfortunately, no. I live on the top floor for this exact reason, as I can't risk having such disturbances by other residents. My line of work, running the most popular podcast that comes out of Anchorage, requires too much focus that I wouldn't like interrupted every time someone is arguing with family or roommates. Speaking of, am I allowed to shout the name of the podcast during this?"

did you notice any other disturbances in the building in the recent weeks ? someone being let in that you didn’t recognize ?

"I don't have time to loiter around the community areas of the building. I will say, there is code access being given to a fair amount of food delivery service workers, not to be a tattler, but that is breaking the guidelines of the building. How do we know they aren't taking our packages with them on the way out? Or casing the place, apparently."

have you been acquainted with josette leighton, or is there anything you can personally tell us about her, with her becoming a person of interest in this case ? her alibi doesn’t seem to add up, don’t you think ??

"I'm so glad you asked, my full thoughts on each suspected involvement as well as a full summary of all facts that have been confirmed thus far is actually going to be covered in our newest episode of the Midnight Thrillers Mystery Busters Gang, which anyone can tune into station 93.7 on Thursdays at 7 pm Alaska Standard Time."

if you recall, the late matevos hakobyan was also slain a couple years prior. both were veterinarians. any connection there, do you think ?

"We actually had multiple episodes covering this exact death you're mentioning when it occurred where you can find my full thoughts on what happened then. Reruns of old episodes are to be listened to--Hey! Bring the mic back to me!"

[cfmysteries]

person: you're blocking the view

me: i am the view

[cfmysteries]

THEY PROBABLY WOULD HAVE LOOKED less like they were trying to sniff something out if they had bought any laundry themself to actually throw into a machine rather than walk in empty-handed except for the micro bag hanging from their forearm, though, if they were completely honest the idea of stuffing any one of their delicate pieces into a public washing machine or dryer instead of the careful hands of those who worked at the drying cleaning services they had been utilizing since their back account skyrocketed thanks to loyal clients was simply out of question. Damn being discrete if it risked a ruined hem or the whatever germs lurked in the creaky machines, a headstrong attitude often ruining any subtly they were going for anyway. The inquisitive nature of the other was exactly what they had invited, and as they made their show of looking over it all, Zeliha's brown eyes followed their antics with interest, eager to find out if they had pecked out anything their own had missed. The commentary regarding the farm did garner some amusement, however irrelevant to their queries. "I'm not very interested in that of Prancer's Ranch, either," regarding the investigation or casually, however dearly they loved their adoptive sister. Gaze finally abandoned the poster board at the mention of the grave, the ramblings of the redhead finally reached a point of intrigue. "That's your job or you mean so hypothetically?" It was a figure of speech in English, wasn't it? Not their native tongue but considering their most often used as the Turkish language had the memory of their mother's brutality attached to it, the brunette could barely remember how it sounded in their voice. "It is a tragedy. I can't imagine many witnesses even knew what to believe with such a gruesome act happening during a horror-themed event. I can't say I'm disappointed to have missed it." A lie, as it took away their chance at a firsthand account, though they wouldn't want to switch shoes with the fallen. "Were you in attendance?"

One of these days, Emine would feel her age, or older. They hated when they woke up and chose feeling childish, wanting to run back home and hide forever. That did nobody any good. She followed herself no matter where she went. But she was also in the middle of searching for additional work. Why? Because of boredom. It was too boring, really, as she bent low, fishing around with her laundry in the old machine. A grunt emerged as they plucked, with brand-new snowflake acrylics, the tangled-up mess of their blouses. Oh, this was awful. They hadn't intended to wash this cashmere with the cotton, but they had been distracted. Scrolling and reading through the news, the rumpled paper left behind on the plastic, broken-legged chair as an indication. The voice came to them as though from a narrow tunnel. Jerking, a soft bump! of their head to the lip of the washing machine opening. "Ow." It did not hurt, not really, more an automatic response as they planted both hands to push the rest of their body out. "Augh, my back. I think my spine's about to crack in half. What's all that?" A sniff, a squint, rubbing at the aching small as they journeyed to the bulletin board. "Ooh, look at this one. Calling all volunteers, have you wanted to learn how to clean up after livestock? Come to Prancer's Ranch. Not convincing and terrible marketing. Uhm!" It drew out into a hum. "Yeah! It's up to date. I am so in the market for a job, the nightshift at the station has been dreadful. And I'm really not looking forwards to this ... uh, well, y'know." Emine fashioned their hand over their mouth, inviting a whisper. "Digging this grave. It's so, so tragic." There were shorts on workers for the nightshift. Everybody thought it was haunted.

[cfmysteries]

WHILE IT WAS OBVIOUS FROM THEIR CHOSEN PROFESSION that their interests leaned towards all things unexplained, mysterious, and, as some would say, spooky, their lifestyle boasted a juxtaposing preference for the finer things in life. In times like the current when they were struggling to gather enough credible resources to put together the next episode of their podcast (and Zeliha hated the idea of padding one out with nothing but filler chatter, lest it ruin all that they had built it up to be), a day that was dedicated to treating themselves was in order, on the dime of one of their more generous clients, of course. With a preference for a table that left their back against the wall so the rest of the restaurant was left entirely in front of them and in view, magenta-painted lips pressed into a line at the sight of someone already seated exactly there. "I did, and I would have thought a place of this caliber would have more organization to keep track of such reservations." The brunette couldn't be placated by a comped drink, either, as they weren't the one footing the bill in the first place. "I'll be taking a seat. Don't worry, I'll make my complaints known as soon as the waitress returns, but I refuse to be seated elsewhere." The heavy ego they carried on their shoulders left no room for the care that the implication floated that they weren't above making the other move with their statement. A hand adorned with a freshly done manicure plucked the wine list from the center of the table, slight judgment present as they asked, "Is that the house wine?"

open at the ivy @anchoragestarters

winters were isolating but things had settled down dramatically for josette once she had found a therapist, just out of town, that worked for her. she had put in some extra shifts at maiden alley cinema to try boost the income that she'd spent without a care when she had been out of work and things were starting to feel more stable for her. perhaps she could look at getting a different job in the new year, one that paid her more and got her feeling a little better at her career prospects. she had been thinking about volunteering but she thought it was too soon for that and she had so much to prove. still, sadness rocked the woman as amelia's birthday edged closer. up until two years ago, she had always wondered what she would be doing and it sadened her to know that she was no longer here.

josette sat nursing a glass of wine at the ivy, a treat to herself and a chance to get some actual food down her as opposed to seeds and toast. looking up, she widened her eyes. "apologies, did you book this table? they sat me here as they didn't think they'd be too long but the kitchen is taking a little longer than usual." she chuckled.

[cfmysteries]

ASLIHAN MALBORA DARMADUMAN | 1. BÖLÜM

[cfmysteries]

IT WAS ALMOST AN INCONCEIVABLE NOTION TO ZELIHA, any thought of trying not to get invested. For as long as they had known the town of Anchorage, they had been inserting themself in as much business they had no right to, what had originally started as a simple hobby of pointing out the array of strange happenings in the place they had decided to place their roots after outrunning their family and its control had somehow blossomed into a career that had managed to not only take over majority of their mind, but also their life. They supposed the possibility could exist that they would have a lot less frustration, like the current that was beginning to bubble up at the thought of another possible lead being nothing but a dead end to cross of their list, consuming their life if they managed to only focus on themselves rather than every phenomenon in town that caught the slightest bit of their attention--and Zeliha had no lack of absorption when it came to their self. But there would be something missing, and there was no one else they believed best for such a job. "Curiosity has never gotten the better of you about what's considered important enough to be posted for everyone?" Ironically, now that they were paying their own mind to it, it was hard to consider majority of what was pinned or taped up much more than garbage or unimportant. Their head tilted to the side in consideration of the question, weighing whether they wanted to give away their true intentions of investigating the past more than the future. "Anything temporary," the brunette decided on. "I don't want to get sucked into anything too concrete. Plus, I imagine any interesting cast of characters are to be found there, people just passing through and picking something up. Have you ever noticed a lot of that?" They bit their tongue from adding on the the October time range they were more interested in, and where exactly those that worked at an event that entirely went to shit managed to scamper off to after the fact--or if they were still hanging around right under their nose.

Bryn didn't have a washer and dryer in his trailer. How would he fit one in such a small space, anyway? Well, he could. But it was not something he was interested in adding to his trailer, with all the modifications done to it already, and still needing to be done. He held up Neanderthal by John Darnton as he took a seat near where the washing machines were currently swishing away, leaning his body over and resting the elbow of his free hand on the folding table as he did. A blue raspberry lollipop in his mouth, shifting every so often as he absently went about his unbothered day. However, when someone started to mutter to themselves nearby, he glanced over, realizing they were just talking to themselves. He glanced around at the rest of the laundromat, seeing there was no one else. Then looked back to the other, quirking an eyebrow, wishing one of the other regulars was around to handle this.

“Hm.” He offered at first, his gaze moving back to his book as he moved his free hand over to turn the page, “I try not to get invested in it, most of the time.” Bryn answered. Though this would technically be a lie since he loved cataloging all of that kind of thing, and more, going on about town. Bryn glances up as the other continues, staring at them for a moment. Then he returned his attention to his book, debating on what to say to them next. Bryn rolled the sucker around, shifting it from one side of his mouth to the other using his tongue, and then spoke, “What kind of job are you looking for?” He asked, again flipping to the next page of his book, eyes still locked onto it with the majority of his attention.

[cfmysteries]

AS THEIR BROWN EYES ROVED THE SEEMINGLY UNHELPFUL arrangement of flyers, which still included far too many missing pet posters they couldn't help but notice, which seemed odd now considering how much had happened since the great animal escape at the veterinary clinic, they couldn't help but feeling a bit dejected at the idea of reaching yet another dead end. They were tired of drowning in a bunch of loose ends without being able to tie some of them up, or just connect enough dots to get one big break. It wouldn't have been as frustrating if they weren't well aware of the burning file they had nabbed from the basement of the mall, unable to prove anything with it just yet. Inching closer to the edge of something wasn't very helpful if the final push seemed to be lacking. Their near constant eye contact with the board was broken only to give an unimpressed look with Paige's answer, catching onto the familiar accent, hand coming to their hip while they instead let the researcher stumble over her wording. "Nice catch. Weird isn't exactly the word your boss prefers to be likened to." The dry comment fell from their lips without as second nature, no real hostility within their words nor did they have any interest in creating a hostile work environment despite their penchant for sarcasm. "I'm interested in tracking down as many people who were working or volunteering at that Halloween trainwreck, not for any particular reason other than I feel I'd get some more reliable information." Especially considering it was an event providing free drinks. "But finding a starting point for that is suspiciously more difficult than I expected." That, or anything that didn't immediately work out for them was seen as suspicious in Zeliha's eyes. "No, I can't actually. I thought you had a coffee cup permanently embedded into the palm of your hand at this point."

With her hands occupied, engaged in a riveting game of Castlevania on her Gameboy Advance, Paige was not at first paying much mind to the voice that spoke at her. If she was, then she might've made more of an effort to reveal herself as the very same research expert that was enduring the same kind of inaction in their community. Instead, she stuck her tongue out through her cheek and mashed the buttons harder. "I do not know, I don't work here," she said, never less than completely honest, even if it did unsettle most. It had taken another few seconds and beats of silence before Paige's head jerked up and the hoodie that concealed her identity fell off the top of her head, pooling around at her shoulders. "Srát. Zel, it's just you," she sighed. "Ah, I thought that sounded weird. Weird, in a, uh... Family way. Familiar way, I mean." She spared another glance down at her Gameboy only so she could save the game and exit safely. Quickly, she joined Zeliha at their side and began pondering the white board as well. "Um, I do not, no... But I'm good at hiding, so, maybe I just miss it. What are we looking for here, exactly?" As if she weren't a grown woman with no necessity for explaining herself, she decided to offer an excuse anyway, "I only come to do my laundry. I did not even have coffee before coming here. Can you believe that?"

[cfmysteries]

Scooby Doo Where are You | "Foul Play in Funland"

[cfmysteries]

where : the flying dutchman laundromat when : early december who : @anchoragestarters cap : 0/4

ALL THE EXPLOSIVE NEWS that had come out of the town's eventful Halloween celebration was ultimately good news for Zeliha who had been seeing dwindling numbers on the most recent episodes of the Midnight Thrillers Mystery Busters' gang's podcast that followed those that detailed their own events earlier in the beginning of autumn. (For as many allegations of exploitation of other's misfortune that were thrown their way, at least they could honestly say they weren't above taking advantage of their own suffering for the benefit of the show, either.) The frustration was always born when between themselves and their research expert, they were barely able to find enough interesting information to fill just fifteen minutes of recording, leading them to resort to where the brunette stood now with eyes scanning the bulletin board in the back of the laundromat after rows of washing machines and dryers to find anything worthy of their attention. "Have you ever taken notice of if this is kept up-to-date?" Their hope was that it wasn't, and some sort of flyer asking for volunteers or workers for the fateful Halloween gathering could've stuck around. "With no internet, I presumed some open jobs would've made their way onto here. One would with all the help needed with community events, they'd be all over outreach such as this, too," they mused casually, head turning to glance at the closest bystander who they had just assumed had nothing better to do while waiting for laundry than to entertain their prodding. "There's a couple for the winter events, but I don't recall seeing any for that big Halloween one, do you?"

[cfmysteries]

THE BEGINNINGS OF A SMILE FORMED ON THEIR FACE, the closest they had came for quite some time considering it was a stranger to their visage when they were locked up down below. It was a rarity to be granted without guard to another person, as they were able to count on one hand all those they would even think of offering a grin towards in the town of Anchorage, Alaska outside of their paying clients. Their sister's best friend had wormed their way onto that list, and usually they would be more questionable of those their adopted sibling extended trust to, but Angelique was one person they were in agreement with them on. Although there were times when they wished Anka would be a bit more cautious when it came to calling just anyone a friend, as much as Zeliha had tried to desperately separate themselves from all family members besides the incredibly social baker, they couldn't ignore that they had managed to inherit their mother's critical eye; the only stark difference was theirs was used against the judgement of others in reference to the questions that seemed to endlessly appear around the town while the Turan matriarch had hers overly focused on her children, Zeliha most often center stage under that microscope. "Quick and painless, or, quick enough not to be very painful, is probably the way most would prefer." Starving to death or slowly running out of breathable oxygen in the basement of a mall with otherwise heavy foot traffic just a level above didn't seem to fall into that category, but they could consider enough that were they receive a quicker type of torture then Mio's timing would have been meaningless. And considering the young woman needed their help to also get out...well, it would've resulted in a bigger tragedy overall. Zeliha didn't consider themselves much of an optimist, Anka had that skill covered for the two of them, but pragmatically, they could recognize a silver living. Their head tilted to the side as they took Ange's words into consideration, choosing then to take a sip of their tea to give them an extra pause of thought in the conversation. "I think it's more interconnected than a series of individually random coincidences, even if the connection is more," There was another momentary pause, as if they wanted to be careful about their words as to not be misinterpreted over a topic as delicate as the current one. "-that there's a pattern of covering up rather than investigating. You don't have to imagine the type of people a place that doesn't ask questions or expect answers would attract." Even with the document that was now in their possession, a suspicion had always landed on those in power from the hobbyist investigator for similar reasons. "I suppose that would be a different type of environmental curse than what first comes to mind." Their hand lifted a bit, conclusionary with her comment. "But that's why I prefer to make a career out of keeping track of it. There's never a shortage of content." Which could've been a cold and impersonal way to speak of things, but that criticism had never phased them before. "With that said, even if my line of work has some unintentional dangers, I don't plan to make a habit of going missing. It wasn't very enjoyable on my end either." Dangerous wasn't exactly a term most would affiliate with podcasting, as the biggest hazard was usually tripping over a microphone, but their penchant for sticking their nose exactly where it didn't belong was the bigger issue there. "I can't fault either of you for feeling that way; I should probably be more thankful to have such a sisterly bond and appreciate it the way you and Anka seem to. I just prefer not to be any source of stress for them."

"scout's honor," they say, holding up two fingers and crossing their heart, a promise sealed with a mockery of innocence—hope to die, and perhaps a little more. zehlia and angelique, however, were no strangers to secrets, ones that were their own, separate from anka. hell, some of those secrets were even born out of a strange, protective care for her. one was bound by the unspoken bond of adoption, while the other—perhaps—harbored the quiet certainty that they were, in every sense that truly mattered, a platonic soulmate. their connection was bound by the universe itself unable to ignore its significance. the intimate talks they shared, the quiet visits, all felt tethered to the idea of sisterhood. and if not for anka, then surely for monique, who, with her own set of complications, entered the equation—a puzzle where the lines between fact, fiction, and curse blurred with uncanny precision.

a soft chuckle escapes them as they watch the green tea cool, the steam drifting upward before zehlia even has a chance to bring the cup to their lips. "honestly, you're right," they say, the irony threading through their voice. "the bear trap seems almost… less invasive." the mere thought of plunging into a pit of needles contorts their features into a grimace. no, not without ink or substance could a piercing be tolerated. but a bear trap? one, two, three, and it’s done, the ugly transformation into a metal-laden smile and the constant, taste of iron on the tongue.

zehlia ponders the idea for a brief moment before conceding, their voice thoughtful yet edged with reluctant truth. "hmm, perhaps ‘curse’ is a bit too maledict of a word." the malevolent aura of the town did not truly account for the staggering shock value that certain residents carried like a badge. their audacity clung to the possibility of tropes too familiar, too tired—big bads, unlikely heroes, and cursed destinies. "what i mean," they continue, with a touch of wry amusement, "is that this town is far more convoluted than any singular supernatural problem. there’s just too much to keep track of." as if there was any hope of keeping up with it all. "but i suppose," they pause, their voice dropping into a sardonic rhythm, "if there's one thing anchorage does right, it’s… well, it’s never a dull fucking day, is it?"

they scoff, the idea of a 'sane' anka hanging in the air like a stale joke. "sane is the tricky part, isn't it? but i can’t blame her for worrying about you." sisters, after all, were a delicate and often confusing thing. and then, the lie—a soft, but firm smile accompanying it. "i would have reacted the same way if it were my sister." liar, liar pants on fire. "it just means you can't go missing again, dear."

[cfmysteries]

THE HOLIDAY OF HALLOWEEN HAD BEEN RUINED for the amateur investigator once it became synonymous with the day they had been attacked in an escape room, the foolish game losing all its enjoyment the moment they had lost a finger off their left hand that was unable to be reattached once the doors were unlocked. As one could imagine, the thirty first of October was no longer a day of representing a lot of a fun when it instead marked such an anniversary. It was also the reason Zeliha planned on staying far away from the community event happening later that night, even if that made the daring risk-taker come off as unusually paranoid; luckily, for them, they always had the excuse of following a hot lead to get out of any plans they didn't wish to attend. A luxury tote bag hanging from their shoulder carrying the documents they planned to look over during their solo lunch, there was no costume adorning their body as they pushed opened the doors of the brunch place, interrupted before they could give their name and reservation time to the hostess. It could be said the brunette was terrible at walking away once their interest had been piqued by something, as did her desperation for someone to join them for a meal. "Is this your usual strategy for finding a date because, if so, I feel I should inform you about this activity called blind dates. Essentially the same concept with a lot less begging."

@anchoragestarters saylor + ? : october 31, midday @ brunch-a-nonsense cap 0 / 4

Saylor Strangelove was an unforgiving force of nature. Anyone who stuck around long enough to understood this typically fled shortly after. Few were exempt from her wrath, alas, on this incredibly humbling day — she was starved for human connection. It was one thing to waste your own precious free time sending letters back and forth like Mary fucking Wollstonecraft, who had relinquished her maidenhood to Percy Bysshe Shelley upon the wet olive grass of her mother's grave and then proceeded to keep his calcified heart in a desk drawer for decades, and it was another thing entirely for all of it to have been a complete misjudgment of character. So, as you could imagine, Saylor was humiliated whenever she arrived to their date spot first and waited an entire hour before a waitress approached with reluctance and inquired whether or not she'd like to order yet. Sure, I fucking guess, she spat in return, feeling the lining of her stomach curl inwards with guilt. Regardless, she maintained her composure and melted in her seat, shoulders unwinding and legs splayed out far enough to where she could prop her pumps upon the opposite chair. She was quite prepared to admit defeat — before she caught sight of someone approaching the hostess stand. "Psst," she whispered out, eyebrows raised expectantly at the stranger. "Come sit here. I'll comp your food, I just — I need someone to be my date. Please."

[cfmysteries]

Aslihan Malbora ✿ for Anon #469

[cfmysteries]

THEIR OVERSIZED DESIGNER SUNGLASSES were predictably sat across their face, still able to hide the under-eye circles that were now healing and much less noticeable than when the podcaster was first admitted to the hospital. Their already intensive self care routine had been amped up into overdrive since they found themselves finally back in the land of the living instead of being stuck underground with the rats and ghosts of the past. Pushing the glasses up to sit atop their brunette locks that had been curled with care to fall in ringlets around their visage, their brown eyes looked around as if the other mentioned godparent could be easily spotted. "No, I actually just walked in the front door; I was held up at the bakery. I was worried they managed to lose my order at first." Sliding the paper box that the baked good was being transported in onto the counter in front of them, they popped it open to take a peek in on the Happy Birthday, Crash that was expertly penned out in white icing. "I was hoping it had made it here safely." As much as they would consider themselves an artist when it came to having eyeliner or an eyeshadow brush in their hand, the same could not be said for crafts involving food. "Coffee would be great. I'm trying to restrict eating much sugar after 11 am, or I would try one of your..." Their voice trailed off an ounce of judgment could be seen in their eyes as their gaze peered at the smoothies. "creations," they finally settled on. As much enjoyment as the investigator got out of pushing the buttons of their best friend's spouse, they weren't cruel enough to taint a celebration dedicated to their godson. "A cake fit only for royalty," they clarified, righting the crown upon his head to straighten it, even if it immediately fell back to its previous position right after. "Hopefully I haven't missed too much already. You seem to have everything still under control for now." Placing one hand on the toddler's back to quell their concern of him falling backwards off the stool, they looked back at Dusty. "Is there anything you need help getting ready? Do you already have all the goodie bags set up?"

@cfmysteries at his home in rabbit creek, october 1st

"Hey Zel, have you seen Fallon yet?" Dustin's head poked around the kitchen, wrangling with a blender and the array of non-alcoholic beverages for the guests. It was reminiscent of an inquiry made of their own disappearance, though neither of them had addressed that his worries stemmed from more than a mutual connection with the love of his life — their bond had... sort of deepened, you know, from being fucked mentally, getting lost in that Terminal. A cardigan hugged his frame, a chill in the air as October descended upon Anchorage, and with it, more eerie ongoings — escaping animals weren't an uncommon conundrum, but the incident at Criminal Records sounded... fucking brutal. ( Not to mention, his marriage counseling appointments were indefinitely canceled for two months, but they were attending less and less. ) Though he'd idled on asking Zeliha whether they would be looking into it, he had decided that a kid's birthday party wasn't the time for digging into Alaska's unique depravities. Or mysteries. "Can I make you coffee or one of these smoothies?" Some of the smoothies in question were still floating with fruit chunks, and in his defense, he'd been left unattended with the blender when Sera floated off to spend time helping Crash open the presents. ( Rule numero uno: Under no circumstances should Dustin Graves-seong be allowed to handle anything that couldn't be popped in the oven or served with ease. ) Leaning on the kitchen island, he poked his pierced tongue out at his two year old waddling around the stools toward him, an oversized crown on top of his head. "Heyyy, little man, did bumoui dress you up like the king you are?" he gushed, bending down when Crash swung his arms up and squealed bumoui, I want up! "How's that? Auntie Zee brought your cake, huh? They brought your favorite." Choccy? "Chocolate," Dustin affirmed, pressing his index finger against his son's nose as he placed him to sit on the stool beside Zeliha.

[cfmysteries]

ZELIHA LIFTED THE MUG OF GREEN TEA TO THEIR LIPS, which still were, despite returning to a routine of nightly lip masks, still chapped around the edges, as they considered exactly how to answer the loaded question. It would have been easy to respond with hostility were they truly bothered by it, claiming it too be too soon to be approached with such nonchalance, but as their own curiosity frequently lead them to poke their brunette head into other's business that consisted of sensitive subjects, it would have been awfully hypocritical to claim sensitivity now when it was rarely ever afforded anyone else when the tables were turned. Besides, there was a part of the podcaster that did enjoy the attention, noticing some flyers still taped or plastered to poles and walls of bulletin boards of places of business with their own face, somehow already trying to think of how instead of tearing them all down, they could instead be used as a method of leading back to their pride and joy, the Midnight Thrillers Mystery Busters. In all actuality, coming face to face with the risk to their own mortality was a feat Zeliha was previously unfamiliar with. Even in Halloween past when they had gone through the excruciating pain of losing their own finger to an escape room gone wrong, they didn't truly think their entire life was hanging in jeopardy, just the appendage that was now nothing more than a ghost of where it was previously attached to their hand However, being stuck down in the undergrounds of the city of Anchorage with nothing but rats and the dripping of mostly safe water supplied much more time to recount everything in their life and, for once, having some wavering confidence if they had actually done it all right. Was all their endless chasing after mysteries really worth it if this was how they went out? But it wasn't how they went out. So, their trailing for answers would continue. "I wouldn't take the needle pit over it. Clearly, that didn't end as well for whichever character had to deal with that." It was possibly quite stupid to gain confidence from their own survival, and yet, the Turkish socialite was finding a way. "I think I would have to equate it to the reverse bear trap, if I were to pick one." It was hardly a reliable scale, nor a serious topic, but they supposed both of those factors made it easier to speak on that an emotional discussion regarding their sister or parents of their God child. Zeliha was hardly one for emotional reunions, but seeing the panic in the eyes of their loved ones when in the hospital solidified just how close of a call it had been for them, as much as they had tried their best to deny it. "Don't tell Anka that, not that I think they would understand such a reference regardless." They didn't believe their sister could sit through one even if they were hiding behind their hands the entire time. "I think a curse makes it sound more fantastical than most would like to believe." As much as they would've liked to base their ideologies in something more realistic, the knowledge gained of the experiments was still sitting heavily on their mind. Their deep brown eyes studied Angelique's face for a moment from across the table outside of the coffee shop, before daring to ask, "Do you believe such a thing exists? That there's more going on that isn't as easily explained?" In regards to their podcast, they had never ventured to imply anything that would lead those to heavily distrust their word, only leaving slight implications for those who wanted to pick up on them. As if needing an out should their question be met with doubt, they took one more small sip of the warm tea and journeyed to a differing topic. "I assume you helped keep Anka sane for those couple of weeks. I appreciate that. Hopefully they're able to bounce back quickly now that everything is fine." Or, seemingly fine, as their own wounded mind was something they refused to burden anyone else with.

@cfmysteries

"on a scale from one to saw ii's syringe needle pit trap, how bad has it been since?" angelique’s words slithered from their lips. they lingered in that delicate space between curiosity and intrusion, deliberately vague, their character often too meddlesome for its own good yet tempered now by an uncanny distance—a practiced restraint. their slender wrist, pale and almost skeletal, flicked with languid grace, sending the ember of their cigarette spiraling into the ashtray. the glowing tip, once vibrant with life, was now reduced to a swirl of ash, lifeless and cold, disintegrating into the bone-dry remnants of what once smoldered. smoke unfurled from their nostrils like the whispered breath of a dragon, curling in ephemeral tendrils around their gaunt visage, obscured behind the impenetrable shield of thick-rimmed, black sunglasses.

their face—a study in contrast, where smooth skin stretched thin over high, angular bones—bore the hollowed mark of grief, as though death itself had kissed them with cruel intimacy, leaving behind not just sorrow, but the eerie stillness of someone who had already been touched by the grave. the sunglasses, dark and unyielding, concealed sunken eyes that no longer reflected the living world but rather seemed to peer into some other, shadowed realm where the boundary between the living and the dead had long since dissolved. their fingers, those long and delicate digits, trembled ever so slightly as they brought the cigarette back to their lips, the motion deliberate, every breath a quiet rebellion against the relentless decay that seemed to pursue them.

some time had indeed passed since their last encounter, but angelique made it a point to thread themselves into the lives of anka's familial connections. like a shadow, they were always present, yet never fully seen until Anka needed that pillar of support the most. it was easier that way—to insert themselves into lives burdened by their own tragedies rather than face the gaping maw left by monique’s absence. their twin’s death, a hollow echo that reverberated through every movement, every thought, lingered in the air like an unspoken curse. death had not only taken monique but had also brushed against angelique, leaving a stain that could not be washed away, no matter how much smoke they exhaled into the dying light.

"the curse feels like it's spreading, no?" they whispered, voice laced with dark amusement, though behind it, something deeper simmered—an understanding of the way death wove its web around them. "the curse of anchorage… i mean, if we're believing such a thing exists." a small chuckle spills from lips that are painted in void-like color, black. "i wonder if death's hunger is sated yet, or if there’s another round it’s willing to indulge upon."

[cfmysteries]

Aslihan Malbora at the 81st Venice International Film Festival

[cfmysteries]

ZELIHA'S WORDS WERE USUALLY COATED IN A BLUNT CASING, off-putting to those who didn't know them well and tolerated by the few they allowed close. Anka knew well enough it was a response to being a verbal punching bag under the guise of constructive criticism by their mother, and Sera didn't seem to have any issue accepting it once the two of them had gotten close after trading brothel rooms. That same frank attitude was fighting with their tongue at the moment to ask what exactly something like that meant, a response that was not helping their mounting intrusive thoughts about being one left to wander the mall forevermore after falling to the conclusion before Mio had made her way down into the tunnels, an unintentional hero. But their better judgment decided to make a rare appearance in that moment, and the investigator for once didn't ask for a clarification, instead swallowing the words. The person in front of her didn't seem to be in a frame of mind for that type of questioning. Their head turned, brunette locks effortlessly made into relaxed curls that morning (truly, they didn't realize how much they needed their skincare and haircare routine until they were robbed of it for weeks) to look in the direction they had been pointed, before their gaze returned. "Thanks." At the mention of needing a moment, their head nodded behind the other, over their shoulder, to the few assortment of benches that were littered between shops. "Why don't we take a seat at one of those? It'll stop any rogue strollers from running you over." They could've easily left, return on their mission for jewelry to allow a bit of retail therapy fill the void of thinking they were left for dead. But hadn't they had a good enough fill of being alone from those slowly passing days? So, instead, they found themselves properly dropping down on one end of the bench, legs crossing at the ankle in front of them. "I'm Zeliha."

You look like you've seen a ghost. The stranger's words were a cliché and it was a phrase that Annisa had been asked several times before--but that didn't make the statement untrue. In a quiet voice, eyes finally meeting the stranger's, they said "Something like that..." You look more lost than me. The words sort of rang in Nisa's ears for a moment, almost as if time had slowed down and was now moving at half-speed. Looking around, desperately trying to orient themselves and also avoid looking at the mirror again, they said "Uh... The jewelry store is...a few stores down, I think. I p-passed it on the way here..." Jesus, it's as if they were a fucking zombie or something--but they didn't know how to feel any other way. They'd just zoned out in a random fucking store and now a stranger was asking them for directions--or at least, kind of. "Sorry, I just... Need a minute," they said, closing their eyes and then opening them again, trying to get the image of that fucking clone out of their head.

Perhaps the most jarring part of this whole thing was the familiarity of it all. They'd certainly blacked out before--lost time, not realizing that they were zoning out into nothing--and once the realization did sink in, they'd felt as if they were in a daze, confused about what was happening. But this hadn't happened in ages and they didn't know why it was happening now. Was their own visage really so triggering? Perhaps, maybe it was... After all, ever since that night in February, it was hard to look in the mirror and not see that dead-eyed monster instead of themselves staring back through the glass.

[cfmysteries]

IT WAS ODD TO BE ON THE RECEIVING END of a rare quietness from their sister, as usually the rancher had more than enough to say during their conversations with Zeliha interjecting any time they thought of something worthy of doing so. Anka was the charisma between the two of them, full of kindness that they managed to keep from being snuffed out by their adoptive parents, Zeliha's biological...Well, they really and truly refused to refer to them as their parents anymore, still harboring a deep-seated resentment for them that the podcaster wasn't sure would ever truly go away. Even after the years of never seeing them, never even giving them a hint that Zeliha was fine but practically just disappearing Gone Girl style on them. It probably wouldn't have been helpful if it weren't for Anka's help, even if they were weary at getting them involved at the time it was happening. The fact that they did have an immense amount of trust to allow them to be the only family they kept ties to was a testament to how unusual it was to feel the need to keep much from one another. Which is why they were perplexed now that Anka seemed to be struggling to spit out whatever was on their mind. Amateur detective skills were proving not to be much of a help at the current moment. "It's certainly been eventful, I think that's accurate to say." Much more than their own, and Zeliha preferred to keep it that way. Anything that distracted them from their work was an unwelcome addition to their life, which is why they put little effort, if any at all, into having a love life. "Why, has something happened between you and Haerin?" If anything, maybe that was the reason behind the hesitance Anka was currently displaying, as it didn't take a genius (nor detective) to see the bundles of love that were between the two wives, so much so that the younger of the sisters couldn't imagine there being a single thing that could tear them apart. They easily followed Anka into the kitchen, not ignoring how it seemed the other needed something to do with their hands as they worked on getting the words to what they wanted to say out, and in a rare moment, Zeliha was able to muster up a small amount of patience that was rarely held for anyone in the world except for their best friend, and now, God son. When the words finally were spoken, their heels clicked across the tile floor of the kitchen to close the distance and wrap their arms around the thin shoulders of their one tie back to their family, the strongest one that wasn't even unravelled by everything else they had gone through, and such, they believed never could. "Oh, Anka. You were worrying me." They took a step back to tuck some hair behind their ear in a true moment of soft affection, another rarity for them but necessary in the moment. "I'm honored to be the first person you've told, and I'm proud of you for wanting to say it out loud." When their hand fell away from their face, it took theirs in their own, not unlike when they were younger kids who could find some safe haven away from the rest of the family to actually be carefree and have fun the way children were meant to. Tugging them to the kitchen table to take a seat, they kept the small amount of gentle contact. "How long have you known? You know you can always tell me anything."

The walk up the path to their homestead was filled with an unusual silence from the belle, an internecine beginning to rift of where they should start, what they should say, and how Zeliha would possibly react. Anka had never been one to prepare or anticipate the possibilities of their actions, swinging in impulsively and ducking out again as an outdoor feline would. This was different than the whimsies that had been a centerpiece of their young adulthood, and perhaps one of the utmost important conversations they thought they'd ever had, following suit only after the terse discussion with Diego of whether to keep their firstborn son. ( No surprises: a terminally ill man with so little life to live was not heartfelt to the prospect, at first. ) They took care not to drag their feet, nor slow the other down, waiting until the pair had come upon the door before they let their stream of conscious rip free. "So, um... I've had a lot'a hubbub in my love life, an' all." They'd not been one to show any kind of preferences, and an openness to accept people as they were into their heart — that had been them, with or without their parents' restrictive upbringing. Ambling into the house and stomping the mud off their boots, discarding them at the door and trashbags in hand, they sat them in the foyer to be collected by their spouse later. Hands on their hips, they couldn't decide what to do with themselves initially, and instinctually, they ushered toward the kitchen to put on a kettle of hot water — tea, that would warm them both up. "I've been doing a lot'a thinking on it after I had Matevos come a-knocking again an' thinking back on all kinds'a stuff I used to do... You know, I spent all those years married to Diego, but sometimes, I think — maybe I got my own signals wrong an' misinterpreted..."

Trailing off after they'd filled it up and flipped the burner on, Anka finally forced themselves to sit at the table, fingers running through their ponytail self-consciously and pulling the elastic band free. Dark locks adorned by their extensions crescendoed over their shoulders, volage preventing their eyes from meeting their sibling's as they tried to compose their confession. They'd never been one to beat around the bush, but there was a veritable weight that accompanied the statement. No guilt found, merely an apprehension of how they could be deemed an imposter for their past romances or foibles in confusion. Coming into oneself had been facile until this moment. Their acrylics scratched at a stain on the tabletop, inhaling through their nose and letting it settle in the bottom of their chest.

"What I'm tryna say is that — I'm... gay."

They had dreamed up this moment, coming out to their closest sibling, and how it would be a rush of relief lifted away from their shoulders and cast out the windows. The sun would shine again and they wouldn't feel this mass of a raincloud taking up real estate inside of their body, as if they had been possessed by the unusual heaviness that came and went every time Diego's passing or his birthday came about on the calendar. Instead... they were heavier, like they'd tied bricks to their feet and they were sinking with the anxiety in their stomach — that in spite of Zeliha's every buck against the reigns when it came to conservativism that their home country was deeply rooted in, their sibling could choose to walk out the door and never see them again. Incertitude was sown faster than planting seeds in their spice garden, a rising heat to their cheeks borne out of this, rather than sheer embarrassment. It was an almost frivolous fear — they'd been married to someone who'd proclaimed themselves as much for years, but that didn't mean they were ready to come to terms with it themselves. In fact, Anka would contend it kicked them in the head like one of their broncos one day. Perhaps, it was that tense conversation with Matevos that had sunken the final nail in the coffin, dawning a realization in them. Nevertheless, they had mounted the courage now, and there was no turning back.

"At least, ya know... romantically."

The pruning silence couldn't have been sliced with their kitchen knife, shoulders sagging as they deflated from the leap of courage it had taken. Still, no magical wings to carry them away from the plight. "I haven't really... come out to anyone, yet. I wanted you to be the first," they confessed, amber eyes meeting Zeliha's.