paradise lost.

location: fitzalan’s home closed for: @damnatiion​

sevda always found it difficult to keep up with noah. probably because he’s just a five year old boy who wants nothing more than to play and run or perhaps running is not an activity she does volunteering. sometimes she wonders if he was purposely trying to invade her when they are out and about. but at least he was happy, at least he had a huge smile on his face as the young boy played in the park. however as they are walking home, that smile has disappeared as the young boy starts dragging his feet. when she offered to carry him, he insisted he could walk himself. probably so he could walk, slower…and slower..

and just as she expected, he takes off running. giggling as he runs past her towards the door. it’s amazed her at how quickly their emotions can change in a span of a minute. the young boy reached up to the door, able to pull it open and darting inside, closing it behind him as he giggled the entire time. just in time for sev to reach the steps. well, at least he was happy once more and that was enough to bring a faded smile on her face. sev carefully opened it, peeking her head in. “ boo! ” another fit of giggles from the kid as she swung the door fully open, another reason for her own smile to take it’s place on her face.

“ mrs. fitzalan. i believe noah may have a serious case of the giggles today. ”

amira rocked back on her feet, as her son collided against her, wrapping his arms around her. pressing a kiss to his forehead, she loosened her tight hold around him, as his wriggling body gave her one last squeeze before rushing down the hall. “just amira, please. thank you so much for watching him, though, i hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” she waved the other girl in towards the kitchen. “can i get you anything? i can make you a cup of tea, coffee, or something stronger, if you’d prefer?"

the glass of wine she’d been nursing was standing half empty on the kitchen counter, as she picked up the bottle to read the label. “oh, this is practically juice, actually. it’s just a lambrusco, if you would like a glass.” if amira was honest, she had not a single clue if sevda was the sort of imbibe, but it would simply be rude not to ask. right? not to mention, despite how lovely the daughter was, amira had always found her father to be less so, and there was a part of her that would relish in the thought of doing anything that would piss him off, if the collateral damage wouldn’t fall upon someone else’s head. who left their children to be so available to help strangers? and when was the last time sevda actually did something fun and wild like other girls her age. “i promise not to tell, if you’re worried about that.”

location: ranger station

time: afternoon

 status: closed

you don’t belong here. it felt like the unspoken words were so clearly reverberating the message with each creak or groan of the wood under her feet. you don’t belong here. the message reached her ears so loud and clear, no matter where she stepped in this town, whether it was her heathen presence in church, or the station she so often found herself frequenting, both in person, and over the phone. 

she knew there was no reason for her to be here. amira had little to no interest in the disappearance of father north, other than the disappointing realization that she’d have nothing handsome to look at while she zoned out during the services, but she’d found herself stepping over the threshold of the station nonetheless. 

there were two words that summed up her desire to step into the station. ranger jack. he had single handedly become a semi permanent fixture in her ever changing schedule. amira never wasted time on the why, just that something about the way he looked at her made getting under his skin all the more satisfying. he was forbidden fruit, and if the bible had taught her one thing, it was that forbidden fruit was always the sweetest.

 it was one of the perks of not living in crammed and close quarters too far into town, an emergency, no matter how minor, could warrant a call to him. the wicker picnic basket hung heavy in the crook of her arm, swinging as she sashayed in as if she owned the place. “now, if just about anyone can walk in here without questioning, i can’t help but sympathize with the concerns in regards to the recent investigations.” she swung the heavy basket on the familiar desk, before making herself comfortable in the empty seat behind it. leaning back, she spun lazily, wondering how long it would be before she’d have finally tested the last of his patience, and finds herself kicked out.

location: fitzalan home time: afternoon starter status: closed​

she’s always been scattered, bits of illuminating parts that seemed to collectively come together and form something close to whole. amira has always known what lay beneath, at least known as much as could be inferred from the regimented schedule, the big sunshine smile, and the way the print of possession were so expertly spread through her duties. there was something in the way that marnie simply was, that seemed to make her chest tighten uncomfortably. she had been her first friend, it was hard to watch her threads unravel, and slowly, but surely, they were. 

“noah, show rose the new toys you got, and share.” amira pressed a kiss to the top of her son head, leaving them to the chaos of toys spread across the living room. this was never something she had imagined for herself. like a lone flowering blooming in concrete. 

“marnie, do you want the red velvet, or the chocolate? i baked them both, and i won’t be taking no for an answer.” she put the plate of them between them on the kitchen table, before pushing a cup and plate towards the other. “i am not one to praise my own work, but these are simply divine.” 

       eleanora sits in a rocking chair on her porch with a cup of warm tea  -  just as she does every morning before her children wake up. but this time, she decided to listen  (quietly)  to the radio; to hear if there was any news of pastor north  . .  and there surely was, but not the kind of news eleanora would’ve imagined.

she hasn’t been a religious person for a very long time. the sudden disappearance of pastor north affected eleanora very little.  &  the news of the case being closed still has little - to - no affect on her but she wonders what others will think. surely, not everyone will be as unbothered as she.

hours later, the brunette is found sitting on a park bench, watching as everyone goes about their daily life, with her youngest on her lap.  ❛  have you heard the news?  ❜  asks eleanora to anyone who will listen and strike up a conversation with her.  ❛  about pastor north, i mean. about the case being closed.  ❜

amira watches as noah comes rushing down the slide, feet barely on the ground before he’s running back up the jungle gym, smile bright with ignorance of the turmoil that is beginning rock their world. for a moment she is gripped with envy, how can a smile be so innocent and happy, something so unlike what she had ever known. how can someone so full of venom create something so pure?

with a shake of her head, and the sympathetic smile gracing her lips, amira turns to the woman beside her. could she see past the cracks in her demeaner, that the beautiful clothes and pink lips hid the hatred beneath? each day it felt like her resolve to pretend she cared about the investigation seemed to be slipping. how would the other woman feel if she knew the only thought that crossed her mind upon hearing the news, was simply ‘what a shame, i’ll never sample his goods’. but the words never quite leave her lips, instead she holds her cup in both hands, gently resting it on the small bump beginning to form under the swath of silk. 

 “my husband told me, but i can hardly wrap my head around it.” that much was true, it had always felt too fantastical, like being told a bad joke, but the punchline was withheld. a priest walks into the forest, but never walks back out. “part of me was -- still is clinging onto the hope that he’ll come back one day. he’s always been special to us, you know? before following him to holy cross, we had given up hope on ever having children of our own.” she couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped her lips. “i know it sounds batty, it wasn’t like he told us that moving here would bring us noah, but there was something special in his faith, something that made you want to believe that anything was possible.” god she was laying it on thick, but it was the story she knew best. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to unload all that on you.” she did. “and how are you and this precious little bean doing?”