#with: carman sadik

[realjessicareyes]

WHERE: Marylebone, Central London WHEN: February 6, 2021, Saturday WITH: @crmnsdk​

Jessica’s nerves were on edge. Normally, Jessica Reyes and swimwear were a match made in heaven—clothes, meet model—but in the aftermath of the fight at the Thames, no place seemed safe, not even a press launch for summer swimwear in Central London. In some ways, of course, life went on: invitations for events were accepted, declined, or rearranged for another date, while Jessica’s work calendar shifted in response to the latest news, most recently Ikki’s promotion to interim CEO of Femenias Energy. But the gang war affected more than the parts of her life that Famine normally touched. It affected everything.

Today’s event was the official launch of a Parisian brand’s newest swimwear collection, and of course Jessica was part of the carefully selected list of invitees. She loved the brand’s cuts and color schemes—though she’d always gravitated towards softer, feminine prints and silhouettes herself—and very much wanted to see the new collection upfront. Besides, what better way was there to show that she was still out there in the world, unbowed and unafraid? 

But not even five minutes after her arrival, it dawned on Jessica that her attendance at a glamorous event meant compromises: most of all, the presence of more security, care of her family (read: Famine). Cue a stricter bag check which had influencers groaning, “Really?”; a polite, yet thorough, pat-down that made most avert their gazes awkwardly. But worst, perhaps: Jessica’s split second of fear when she first saw a group of four strangers removing their coats to reveal the summer dresses they’d worn to fit the theme—because in that moment, her body ran cold, sweat prickling the back of her neck. Because for a moment, she’d thought they could have had guns on them.

Fortunately, the event itself was a delight, with the modern yet minimalist venue transformed into a tropical getaway. Located at different areas throughout the room were photo backdrops featuring luxury destinations from St. Tropez to the Seychelles that the invitees could take photos in front of, complete with flowers (out of season but somehow, magically, fresh) and other accessories from luxury brands. Roving waiters topped up plates with hors d’oeuvres and the guests’ choice of champagne or cocktails. Jessica even spent the first half-hour air-kissing old friends, and through gossiping with the brand manager, learned that during the raffle at the end of the event, three lucky ladies could win a stay at one of the most luxurious resorts in the Maldives. (She knew that she could afford that trip, technically, but it was so much nicer to get things for free.)

Returning to her table after her little meet-and-greet, Jessica smoothed down her appropriately themed dress, a midriff-baring orange two-piece set that she’d paired with simple yet sophisticated white heels. Her hair was parted down the middle and tied in a low ponytail, loose locks framing her oval face, while Cartier Diamants Légers earrings adorned her ears. As she took a sip of champagne to quench her thirst, she turned towards the woman next to her, saying, in what sounded like the most conversational tone but, well, wasn’t, “Do you ever get the feeling that everybody’s looking at you? And not in the 'Wow, she’s so hot I’m going to spontaneously combust’ kind of way?”

After her years on the London social media scene, Jessica was used to the shallow conversations and the civility with an edge that Carman inspired during their shared events—but it was the strangest thing to be seated alongside her at a swimwear event, in February, in the middle of a gang war. Still, a look had passed between them at Carman’s arrival earlier: a shared understanding of what they’d just been through, when they were the last people anyone would expect to be in a gang. A sliver of anxiety running through them like a thread. And at the same time, the shared relief that at least neither of them was Pestilence, who had broken the truce first.

Not that it made things simpler.

Jessica took an hors d’oeuvre from her plate, a delicately arranged blini topped with crème fraîche, smoked salmon, and caviar, and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes at the taste. For a moment, she forgot about everything besides the event they were at. But opening her eyes, and catching the curious glances of two women at the table across from them, the Power let out a sigh and glanced at Carman. “Hey, do you want to head to the smoking lounge before the fashion show begins? And just, you know—” She gestured vaguely at everything and everyone around her, the sudden surreality and artifice of it all. “—not?”

[omer-nacar]

Outgoing Call: Omer ⟶ Carman

Omer: [He's not too sure if she's going to pick up, but Omer still calls her. He should have called her earlier, it's been two days since the explosions. He's disappointed in himself for not reaching out to her instantly.] Merhaba

Omer: Carman, how are you?

Omer: I don't know if that is the right question to ask [he chuckles awkwardly] I just wanted to check in...to see if you were okay

[mitzi-zhang]

WHEN: 6th February WHERE: Yoga Studio  WITH: @crmnsdk​​

The Saturday morning yoga class was not one which Mitzi had ever attended before, but after a long week, it seemed like the perfect way to destress and relax. It was a quiet class compared to the other ones that went on during the week, with only about five other people in the room it was impossible not to notice Carman Sadik when she walked in. Then again, it was always impossible to not notice Carman Sadik when she walked into a room. She owned any room with her presence. Making eye contact with her, Mitzi didn’t force the acknowledging smile onto her lips. She simply stared at her for a moment before looking away. Carman was not going to get any of her attention, and now they did not have to force being nice with each other. The truce was broken, Mitzi was not in War and Carman and they were no longer friends, although were they ever really friends?

Focusing completely on the instructor, Mitzi could not help but occasionally glance over across the room towards Carman’s direction. She could feel Carman’s eyes burning through her skin from across the room whenever her head was turned. Mitzi was certain that if Carman had the power to throw literal daggers with just her looks then Mitzi would be on the receiving end of those blades.

As soon as the instructor ended the class, Mitzi darted out of the room to the locker rooms before Carman had even stood up from her mat. She had no intention of lingering and risking any conversation with the other woman, she did not have the energy for that today. Yet, once again, luck was not on her side.

There she was. Standing right across her. Carman Sadik. No avoiding her now.  “I heard you got injured. Did the yoga help the leg?” Mitzi asked, crossing her arms across her chest as she looked up at her. “Probably shouldn’t push yourself too much with the yoga classes. Wouldn’t want you to cause any further damage.”

[evrensadik]

                                        𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐊𝐒

kerem sadik, one of the most prominent and influential businessmen in turkey, turned his dream into a reality when he married banu yavuz sadik, a philanthropist and a cruise line heiress. driven by his ambition, kerem transformed it into an integrated shipping company, reaching new heights of success upon moving parts of their company to london nearly 30 years ago. the sadik lojistik fleet includes 274 vessels with a combined capacity of 1.933.520 TEU as of december 2019. the first daughter, carman sadik, bears great resemblance to her father, blessed with the same fox eyes and a mind sharp for business. it's been said that kerem sadik had raised a duplicitous, cruel, and most of all, loyal young woman. ( perhaps that was what love was, after all, her mother never asked her father questions. ) their younger daughter, eden sadik, is renowned for her resemblance to her mother, from the very contours of her face to the way that she smiles and speaks — most would swear that banu gave birth to an exact replica of herself. the majority of details about their personal lives remain unknown, but it was stated that banu had spent a good portion of her life in istanbul with her younger daughter eden. it leads some people to believe that the family is now more divided than it seems. all four of them currently reside in london. legend has it that the sadiks are descendants of merchants, sultan’s advisors and viziers.

ft. @crmnsdk

[cemilexsadik]

for: @edensadik​​​ location: carman’s flat ( location tbd but she lives somewhere ) date: october 22, 2019

With the departure of the last guest of the evening, Carman piles some of the remaining dishes from the coffee table onto the kitchen counter. She’d invited all of Eden’s friends she knew, and a fair amount of hers to celebrate her little sister’s birthday. Throughout the evening, as she watched Eden talk and laugh and socialize with everyone, Carman couldn’t help but feel guilt weighing down on her like something sat squarely on her chest. But it was either be guilty of saving her sister’s life, or be afraid of losing it altogether. It was never going to be a choice for Carman.

She grabs two clean wineglasses, a half-emptied bottle of merlot, and a small, precisely wrapped gift before making her way out to the living room where Eden was sat on the couch. “So...good night?” Carman smiles softly at her sister, beloved and cherished more than words could say, and she knows that whatever comes, she’ll keep her safe. Threats could do little to Eden so long as Carman was by her side, so long as she was by Carman’s side. 

“Here,” she says, setting the bottle down on the glass table, pouring out two glasses until it’s emptied and handing one to the younger Sadik. “I got you something –– well, something else.” She’d already showered her sister in gifts that morning but this was different –– more special ( she hoped ). She extends the small box to Eden, nodding at her to open. When she does, she’ll find a necklace that matches the elegant ring Banu had given her years ago. The process of selecting a gift worthy of her sister’s 25th birthday had been hard enough, but when she’d stumbled upon the necklace, the matching emerald gemstone gleaming, set against the elegant gold chain, she’d known it was the perfect choice. As she extends the parcel, she can only hope Eden feels the same. 

[zachariaswinchester]

@crmnsdk​ / january 23rd / PEST nightclub

It had soon come to his attention that he was not the only one invested in Saint’s comings and goings that night, having locked eyes with Carman not once, but at least three times now. He had a sinking feeling that she could read him like a book too - him noticing her, noticing him, noticing Saint - if he thought about it too much he’d get dizzy. Zach approaches her (perhaps foolishly) when an upbeat song reverberates from the speakers set out across the room, extending his hand. “Come on, Sadik, dance with me.” It could have been a demand, if not for the question that swam clearly in his gaze. He had learned from working with her that there was little hope in her doing anything she didn’t want to.

The incarnation of Carman he had known before having to work alongside her was different, but he had no problem reconciling the two in his mind’s eye. It was like a breath of fresh air being taken out of their usual competitive environment; a simple question escalating into a full-blown argument over scheduling conflicts wasn’t abnormal when it came to them. However he would be remiss if he didn’t acknowledge that working alongside her had prompted him - forced him - to be more organised, to avoid the shame of disappointing Juno just because Carman had booked the boardroom before he had even thought to. 

“You know you want to,” he teases, moving his shoulders in time with the beat of the music while his hand remains extended to her. “That dress looks to good not to show off.” Brows arch knowing that he made his point and knowing that it wasn’t wrong either, she looked incredible. He didn’t let himself look around, to see the full scope of the glamour that surrounded them, easier to feel inferior if he acknowledged he was surrounded by people who made it look easy.

[ravireyes]

WHERE: savoy hotel WHEN: january 23rd CLOSED for @edensadik​

It's not like distracting someone is a difficult task for Ravi Reyes, but he still finds his own smile faltering in a fleeting second of nervousness as he approaches them.

Eden Sadik. He doesn't have an ideal relationship with the Sadiks -- which is expected, after they've decided to close with the enemy instead of the Famine business --, but he has interacted with Carman much more than with the younger one. There's a reason Thomas was originally chosen for this, they probably would've had a much easier time; maybe distract Eden with some muscle flexing, or showing off abs, or whatever it is that Thomas does to catch people's eyes.

His steps are hurried, the clacking pattern of his boots on the floor betraying the urgency behind his movement, having just heard that he was needed for the job. His dress flutters whimsically around him as he turns a corner, and his smile brightens up to uncanny valley levels of faux excitement as his eyes fall upon Eden. "Ah, the younger Sadik!" He greets loudly. Once they're within reach, he puts his hands on theirs like they're childhood friends, pulls them closer, demands all of their attention. He's hoping the excessive eye contact will be contagious enough to keep them focused on him and not thinking about the cars currently being tracked in the garage. "I've been dying to talk to you. Hi. I'm Ravi, I know we've sorta met previously, but I've always been so busy before-- and ugh, you look absolutely stunning! How've you been? Where did you get those shoes? Tell me all, please. I have a feeling we could be best friends."

[horsemen-rp]

Saint Warden

Age: 28 Affiliation: War Rank: Virtue Pronouns: He/him FC: Max Irons Status: Played by Dean

Your mind works like the machines your company makes, slick and efficient, made for protecting assets and destroying enemies. Your mouth's a gun, quick to anger and fire off a torrent of things you shouldn’t say. A lie or an accusation, but in spite of the toxicity of your intentions you always deliver them with such ethereality. As if anything spoken from your tongue had to have been undoubtedly the truth. You craft your throne meticulously, certain that there should be nothing that could push you from the top, until it does and you fall; nosedive straight from heaven’s gates to the fiery pits of hell. The place you were meant to be all along, ember and ash much better suited for the boy who’s opportunism rages like a wildfire. 

ROLE.

It’s not where you want to be, demoted from your birthright as a seraphim to learn a lesson on loyalty as a virtue. Being caught with one of Famine’s may have dirtied your reputation as your mother’s favourite, but you’re determined it won’t be for long. You will crawl your way back into the limelight among your siblings who lack the nerve to run a gang the way you would. In the meantime this will suit you, the grit of the lower ranks intertwining well with your involvement running the illegal trades for bellum nova. 

BIO.

He’s born at the beginning of summer, the days draw longer and warm, casting shades of bronze on the thick hair on the baby’s head. His mother always had said it reminded her of a crown, Saint seeming the only fitting name for the boy who’s appearance had already suited that of a king.  And yet, he isn't destined to sit on the throne of his family’s legendary empire. That in spite of the way his mother favours him among the rest, sings his praises and treats him with a tenderness his brother and sister had yet to receive, it still wouldn’t be enough to plunge his jealousy. That they were taller than him, smarter than him, faster and all those other annoying things about being the youngest that leave a crumb of spite in his heart.  But the Wardens do not shy away from competitive spirit, in fact, it’s a notion their parents encouraged. To pitch their children against one another so that they would exceed their expectations, arguments and fighting easily brushed away with the simple belief that the loser should learn themselves a valuable lesson. Saint, always lost. Perpetually overpowered by Remus or outwitted by Juno. Such things force a person to adapt, to weave yourself a defensive armour to ensure those above you could no longer snag their teeth on your flesh. For him, it was a quiet change, learning that his manipulative tendencies were far more merciless than his sister’s bite or his brother’s bark.  For a long time that was all his world revolved around. The three Warden children grappling for their place at the top, only for what, the youngest weren’t entirely certain. He recalls Warlock’s and Gabrielle heatedly debating over dinner on topics an six year old couldn’t make sense of. Disagreements hissed over an expensive glass of wine and an insult to follow. Stories a child should never have been exposed to and how Remus would gently urge his little brother and sister out of the room to distract them both with games instead.  Then the penny drops, as a teenager, having puzzled together the mysteries of his family’s business from overheard conversations and enough eavesdropping. Tearing down the barricade of the sentiment that the youngest should be protected from the toxicities that the truth held. As if it were a siren call, War calls to him. A natural lust for conquest that sits in his veins, the powers of victory and blood of an enemy dripping from his hands far more elusive than any golden casted trophy.  It made him unpredictable, subtle exploits turned to chaotic antics of a teen. Crimes and sins committed as he waits eagerly for his eighteenth birthday, the day in which he is finally permitted to initiate into the gang alongside his siblings and mother.  Unlike their predecessors’, War announced themselves as modernists. A newer gang that severs the ties of formalities and traditions. As such Saint doesn’t start as a Seraphim, the top of the pecking order where he would be practically untouchable. No, he had started where anyone else had, a naive angel with much to learn and loyalty to prove before he could earn himself his birthright’s title. That he should claw his way to the top with the lust of violence and fantasy of becoming horsemen laying honey sweet on the tip of his tongue.  His initiation comes at an unfortunate time, but only for an individual who romanticised disputes the way in which most his family had, in the era of peace. No blood to be spilt from the opposition and business to be handled strictly within War’s own domain.  For Saint the lack of conflict allowed his focus to pull in on his main goal, lucid dreams that in spite of being the sibling who lease deserved it, in his own mind he would be far better suited to run an empire built on chaos. All the things that he knew too well, to be vicious and unapologetic, notions in which he had made his home. An energetic yearning that ignites every fibre of his being until his is nothing other than that, a hell fire, urging to burn everything in his sight and forge the perfect path of destruction to his throne.  Within Bellum Nova, he is given one of the most essential jobs of all; a chairmen as well as management over the illegal trade of firearms across the globe. Distribution all orchestrated and signed off at his will, occasionally deals arranged under the nose of his other family members as they are not always fond of his risk taking.  But as assuredly he had forged his ascent to royalty, melted karats of gold stolen from the deserving, encrusted and adorned himself with the praise that had come with being the favourite, it is his impulsiveness that strips it all away. Remus had found him, intertwined with a member of Famine and uses the knowledge not only to put his little brother back in his place but out of harm’s way from an opposing gang.  Despite the peace agreement, Gabrielle has never warmed to the idea of a union between any of her gang with another. A friendship was bad enough, but news of her son’s enamoured behaviour disgusted her. Saint was promptly demoted to a virtue, with the purpose that he should have to work to prove his loyalty again. Used publicly as an example to the existing ranks of what should happen to members that neglect to acknowledge the hand that fed them.  He knows Remus, or at least he would like to think that he understood his brother well enough to comprehend that his decision wasn’t born from ill will. Rather, Saint presumes it is an instinctual protectiveness. But he still can’t help the rage it sparks in his chest, bitterly acidic and poisonous each time his sibling attempts to justify or Juno works to mediate. He will do anything to get back to the top, but more than anything, he would do anything to tear his siblings down from their ivory towers.

CONNECTIONS.

Carman Sadik. You first met as children at one of your parents’ various gatherings and were loosely familiar with one another until Carman joined War. Now, the two of you are close friends and rarely seen without the other.

Juno & Remus Warden. Try as you might, you’re always going to be at the bottom of the pecking order where your siblings are concerned. This is softened only by the fact that, as the youngest, your mother mollycoddles you the most much to their chagrin.

Zacharias Winchester. Your verbal punching bag. You know you can be cruel to them but that isn’t going to stop you when it brings you some sort of catharsis. You never claimed to be a good person.

[kashvis]

carman.

“ GOOD, ” CARMAN DECLARES RESOLUTELY, “ Neither do I. ” Carman likes a good verbal sparring, but she’s not particularly interested in being caught in the cross fire of unnecessary rivalries. At the end of the day, all the gangs were criminals and had much more to lose working against each other than working beside each other. ( The elder Sadik isn’t so silly that she’d claim any of the gangs should work with each other no matter how fun she thought it might be. ) Speculating at anything Gabrielle may be thinking at any given moment is a futile exercise in Carman’s mind – the woman lived for being unpredictable and the Virtue would rather spend her time doing her job rather than think on what the Horseman’s next move might be.

“ Hmm, is that how it works do you think? ” The question is genuine, posed with such childlike wonder that for a moment Carman seems young again, an innocent wondering why her father closed the door to his office after dinner, or why he’d looked so furious when other children played with the Wardens. It hadn’t taken her too much longer to figure out that her father wasn’t a bad person, just that the meaning of bad was determined by other people. For her, his actions helped create the life she so loved, and so his choices couldn’t be wrong, just necessary. The complexities of morality boiled down to utilitarian purpose, and yet this particular kind of love she still struggled to understand. Carman looks at Kashvi more carefully, voices her next question more bluntly. “ So how does it work with you and Sol? I can guess who’s hard, but who’s actually the soft one? ” Well, no one had ever accused the younger woman of maturity.

And in any case, gossip was a safer option than delving into her Seraphim’s romantic entanglements any further and certainly safer than suggesting she was unsure how to handle her familial responsibilities. The urge to be dismissive swells in her chest, a certain pounding no she’s mine possessively pumping her heart. For Eden, she clenches her fist and offers a sunny smile. “ You actually mean that, don’t you? ” Carman laughs incredulously, before sighing gently. She gives one sharp nod. “ Saint would, I’m sure, but I don’t think she’d be any less angry at him. I’d appreciate knowing she’s not going catatonic. ” Carman is trying for humor, but concern tinges her voice, too obvious to hide. She’s glad it’s Kashvi who is here to hear it, and no one else. “ Thank you. ”

Oh, Carman and her clever little tongue. Kashvi has to admire it, but she likes it little when she’s on the receiving end of the older Sadik’s sister’s smart mouth. A mention of Solomon closes her features off, face almost stone-like. Despite her open and compassionate heart, she is a private person, and to speak of Solomon as if he’s to her what Astrid is to Juno — well, Kashvi is in no mood to do such a thing. Especially not in front of Carman, as it is hardly any of her business. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She forces herself to relax, not wanting to seem like she has a stick up her arse ( despite the fact that she most definitely does ) and lets her gaze travel from Carman to the rest of the scene. 

She knows this world is not made for warm and compassionate hearts like her own, but maybe that is why Kashvi so stubbornly clings to it. Gabrielle Warden wishes to create an environment that freezes and creates fear — she’ll bring some warmth to it. She hardly responds to Carman’s laugh and question, simply shrugging her shoulders. “You’ll find I don’t often lie, so yes.”

Kashvi considers that, for a moment. “I love Saint, but he’s not always the best at being comforting.” She says it with a certain care, as she knows that Carman and Saint have a long history of friendship. “Anytime.” Her eyes are sharp for a moment as she looks around for anyone who might overhear her next words, even if they’re not half as treacherous as most of her thoughts. “I think it’s a bad call, to task Eden with it.” Under those words shines the truth that Kashvi disagrees with Gabrielle’s methods, and she looks at Carman, ready to take in the other’s reaction. “I get that Gabrielle feels a certain urgency, but it’s rushed. And Eden is good at what she does.” No need to ruin that.

[evrensadik]

''𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋, 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔.''

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

Full name: eden sadik Nickname: edie Birthdate: 22nd october Age: 26 Zodiac: libra Gender:  cis woman Pronouns: she/her Romantic orientation: unlabeled Sexual orientation: unlabeled Nationality: english/turkish Ethnicity: turkish Ranking: angel Affiliation: war

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

Birthplace: london, england Hometown: istanbul, turkey Social Class: upper Educational achievements: almost graduated from UCL. had only a couple months left to complete. Father: kerem sadik Mother: banu sadik Sibling(s): the one and only carman sadik Pets: ragdoll cat name bayazid Previous relationships:  they didn’t last really long and they were pretty scarce   Arrests: none Prison time: never

𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 & 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄.

Current occupation: driver for the wardens Dream occupation: singer, veterinarian, always changing Past job(s):  actress, model Spending habits: despite her wealth, she tries to live a normal life, but does like to waste her money on pointless things from time to time In debt?: no, the sadiks are rich

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 & 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒.

Physical strength: average Speed:  above average Intelligence: above average Accuracy: average Agility: average Stamina: average Teamwork: eden makes an excellent team player Talents: drawing people’s faces with extreme accuracy Shortcomings: emotional, stubborn, sensitive, optimistic   Languages spoken: english, turkish, italian, mandarin and japanese Drive?: yes <3 wanted to be a race car driver for a short period of time Jump-start a car?: yes Change a flat tyre?: yes baby Ride a bicycle?:  yes Swim?: yes Play an instrument?:  piano and violin Play chess?: yes Braid hair?:  yes Tie a tie?: yes Pick a lock?:  hasn’t tried Cook?: no, but she can make some amazing sweets

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.

Faceclaim:  ayça ayşin turan Eye colour:  blue Hair colour: brunette Hair type: type 1 Glasses/contacts?: no Dominant hand:  right Height: 167cm  5.5ft Weight:  50kg / 110.23lbs Build:  slim Exercise habits: recently started attending jujutsu classes Skin tone: type IV Tattoos:  one that she got with carman for her 18th birthday Piercings: standard lobe Marks/scars: none Clothing style:  usually keeps up with all the most recent trends Jewellery: rings, has an obsession with rings. her favourite one is an emerald ring that was given to her by her mother Allergies: none Diets: none, she eats what she wants

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘.

MBTI type:  ENFJ ‘the protagonist’ Enneagram type: type 2 Moral Alignment: neutral good Temperament: melancholic Element: air Emotional stability:  none, ever Introvert or Extrovert?: extrovert Obsession: clothes, cars and plants Phobias: none Drug use: never Alcohol use: rarely to never Prone to violence?: no Prone to crying?: you know it baby Believe in love at first sight?: yes <3

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐒.

Accent: london posh but can perfectly mimic each accent. Hobbies: painting, singing, taking care of her plants, decorating, designing, shopping Habits:  driving fast, crying over romcoms, watching movies before sleep, daydreaming Nervous ticks: blinking more often Drives/motivations: making her mother and sister proud, the idea of finding freedom Fears: dying for war, isolation,  being unwanted, unworthy of being loved Sense of humour?:  satire and word play Do they curse often?: no, it has to be a really serious situation for eden to curse.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.

Animal: deer, cat Beverage: rose lemonade Book: rebecca by daphne du maurier and the brothers karamazov Colour: green Food:  strawberry cake (yeah it’s cake, she doesn’t care) Flower: calla lily and bird of paradise Gem: emerald Mode of transportation: fast cars Scent: no man’s land by BYREDO Sport: tennis Weather:  warm and summery Vacation destination: disneyland paris, portofino italy, singapore, casablanca

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒.

Greatest dream: to find happiness and freedom. Greatest fear: losing touch with carman, carman dying, losing touch with her friends (especially zach and mitzi), taking another person’s life, becoming someone that she could never face in the mirror Most at ease when: she’s with her sister or closest friends Least as ease when: she’s forced to do her tasks and missions Biggest achievement: loving others with her entire heart Biggest regret: never graduating from UCL and getting her degree in psychology and returning to london

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋.

Love language: food, words of affirmation, physical touch and gifts. Character parallels: sansa stark,  maeve millay, the little mermaid.

[omer-nacar]

WHEN: 16th February WHERE: Iznik restaurant, Highbury  WITH: @edensadik​

Finding Turkish food in London was not difficult, there were many spots within the city but if you wanted true good quality Turkish food then Green Lanes in North London was the place to visit. Lined with restaurant after restaurant all equally as good as each other the options were endless and slightly overwhelming. Although he had many favourites spots where he would go whenever he wanted a taste of home, the choice tonight was the family-run Iznik in Highbury, the cosy restaurant filled with bright chandeliers and glass coloured decorations making it feel as if it was a small shop right in Istanbul.

Sitting down at the table he ordered a few small plates to the table, unsure what his company would want to eat tonight. Eden Sadik had been a constant in his life, even if he was no longer talking to his family the younger girl who was a part of his past was one which he never lost contact (the same could not be said about her sister Carman). Eden truly was like her last name, loyal, even though she did not have to be since Omer was no longer an ally to the Sadik’s. The two had created a routine, visiting Turkish restaurants and catching up about life. Now that the truce was broken Omer was worried for Eden, this was not the life she should be a part of, it was not the life he wanted his sister to be a part of either but he had no say in that nor did he have a say over Eden’s. All he could do was be the support they both needed. 

“Naber güzellik?” What's up beautiful? He smiled as she approached him, turning to their mother tongue to speak rather than English. “I ordered some small bits for us whilst waiting, I’m starving though so be ready for a feast.” Leaning back into his seat he looked over at Eden, it had been a few weeks since he last saw her, this catchup was overdue. “Eeee? Nasılsın? İyi Misin? Doğru soyle bana.” Well? How are you? Are you okay? Tell me the truth.

[kittym]

+ CARMAN ( @crmnsdk​​​​ )

TUESDAY 26TH JANUARY. THE GYM.  The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and the ocean sends waves crashing onto a coastline shore, and the gym smells of stale sweat and leather, as it always does in its own reassuringly grounding way. She was only supposed to notify the manager of the next Famine-held fight listings, but distractions are distractions. An idle hit in passing to the punching bag turns into a second, then a third. Kitty ignores the dull ache making its home in her knuckles, brown furrowed as she channels a fit of all too familiar anger that’s been eating her from the inside out. Each dull sound fills the bare brick room and it isn’t until she begins to tire that her senses pick up on the fragrance of a perfume that certainly isn’t her own.  

Palms steadying the swaying sandbag, she pushes back the hairs sticking to a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and turns to see Carman stood in all her sleek glamour, watching with feline eyes, ever-breathtakingly beautiful. “I didn’t know anyone from War would be here today,” she admits, pulling her fur coat down from where it had been carelessly discarded to hang from a boxing ring corner post. “Kind of figured you’d have your own flashy private gym to work out in.” Warm limbs prevent her from pulling the garment on, instead draping it over her arms to make the point that she has no intention of staying. Carman’s presence snags her, though, fishhook in the mouth. 

“I met your sibling the other day,” she muses offhandedly, Saint’s threat to stay away from the Sadiks still thick in her ears adding a hint of venom to the words. “They’re very sweet-- seems a shame they haven’t realised they would be better off working for quite literally anyone else. How long do you reckon they’re going to last in this line of work?”