cha·me·le·on

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Closure. It was a hard thing to come about. Ending a relationship that had meant something to him was never easy, and he had thought he’d found a way to let it go. Everything had seemed so resolved to him. She’d cheated on her boyfriend with him. He hadn’t even known she was dating someone. Things had seemed pretty black and white, but Constantin’s morale code had always been murky. So, he called her. He opened that door again, and he wondered why. What more could there be? 

Humming thoughtfully as he opened the menu, trying to gather his thoughts. Brushing his fingers against the table cloth to give himself something to do. “I found it a couple of weeks ago. It’s more of a foodies place, not yet discovered.” he said, eyes softening. Soon enough people will find about it, and reservations would be impossible to get he was sure of that. “I got lost, and somehow found myself here. A part of me wants it to remain like this, untouched.”

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“Oh, is that so? Look at you finding a spot no one else has yet. Are you some kind of foodie influencer now?” Estelle teased, eyeing him over her menu. It was still a little hard to believe that after everything, Constantin had reached out but she was thrilled. It felt normal, if anything could feel normal around here anymore. 

To think you could simply get lost one day and find yourself in a restaurant like this. Something that felt like your own little secret. Or as he had so perfectly put it, untouched...what a novel concept. But she understood. “I wish so many things could remain untouched. Something you could love without the rest of the world butting in.” Like their relationship...or whatever it was they could call it. If only she could go back and make sure no one ever saw that video. Even if she had tried her best to patch things up - everyone knew you could patch up the cracks in a mirror but you would always be able to see them. 

The waiter came by and Estelle was quick to order them a bottle of red wine, something she was sure he would like and even if he didn’t, Constantin had never been the type to complain. Once their orders had been placed and the menus were out of the way, the blonde had to stop herself from reaching across the table to take his hand, though she wanted to. “I was surprised to hear from you. Happy, of course, but I wasn’t expecting it.”

he  wasn’t  necessarily  sad  about  it.  he  was  definitely  bothered,  but  when  it  came  down  to  it,  he  had  no  control  over  nino’s  actions,  only  the  repercussions  of  them.  it  felt  gross  to  be  proud  over  the  fact  that  he  had  at  least  been  right  about  the  fact  that  there  was  an  attempt  on  his  mother’s  life.  the  accuracy  in  that  assumption  would  clear  him  from  estelle’s  harshness  for  at  least  a  moment.  nathaniel  sat  at  the  bar  counter,  several  empty  shot  glasses  in  front  of  him  while  he  slowly,  mindlessly  sipped  on  a  glass  of  water.  there  was  alcohol  at  home,  nice  alcohol,  expensive  alcohol  that  went  down  easy.  but  he  felt  like  he  needed,  almost  deserved,  the  humiliation  that  came  with  the  public  exposure  of  your  best  friend  being  arrested  for  going  after  your  mother.  

a  weak  attempt  was  made  to  flag  down  the  bartender  as  they  walked  by,  ignoring  him  completely.  a  gentle  sigh  left  his  lips  before  he  turned  to  the  person  next  to  him.  his  dark  eyes  are  dull  and  heavy,  the  typical  sparkle  absent  from  their  gaze.  “we’re  not  talking  about  it.  nino  nor  me  being  ignored.”

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estelle had been in the bar for awhile, it wasn’t that she had been looking for her brother ( or half-brother if anyone had cared to ask her about it ) but the universe always liked to play cosmic jokes on them and the woman had moved past asking the cosmos why at this point. 

eyeing the bartender as he clearly chose to ignore nathaniel, estelle decided it was far past her time to make her presence known. “no?’ the blonde offered sharply before taking the seat next to him. “would you rather talk about the odds of someone else trying to kill mother now that your friend is in custody or your complete lack of ability to get anyone’s attention? oh wait...i guess that’s off the table. my mistake.” leaning over the bar, estelle waved in the bartender’s direction with a strained smile... which did the trick. “i’m going to need a bottle of whiskey off the top shelf. thanks so much.” her smile was genuine this time as she watched him grab one of the better bottles.

[ The Black Widow ] @azra--arslan​

Decisive. From where Estelle stands, Azra has always been a decisive woman - when she sees something she wants, she takes it. No matter what. Nothing could stand as evidence for that truth more than the current situation. Estelle knows, or has a feeling, that there was no love lost when Vidal died and at this point, the baby is a checkmate for Azra. And though, she doesn’t know this, Azra being able to kill her own father furthers the idea that she can make a choice, no matter the consequences or heartbreak that may follow, when the time comes.

Hell-Bent. There is a fire in Azra that Estelle feels an ember of inside of herself. An idea that there is no line she won’t cross to get what she deserves. Estelle feels that too but not quite in the same ferocity that Azra does ( although she doesn’t realize just how far Azra has gone ). When Estelle will hesitate, Azra will not and she draws inspiration from that tenacity - the unwillingness to not succeed.

[ The Volatile ] @irma-athanas​

Opposites. Where Estelle is pink, Irma is black. Soft edges and sharp lines. There is an outward strength and challenge to Irma that Estelle holds inside. She never wants to seem outright confrontational but it seems like the other woman does not shy away from exuding that energy. She likes sitting in a room when Irma walks into it, the way defenses go up because no one quite knows what she’s going to do - it’s a feeling Estelle has never felt rise in a group when she arrives. It’s a kind of power she’s never had.

TASK V. A LITTLE RHYTHM

TASK II. THE LIKE-MINDED

Estelle’s brother Christian might mean the most in the world to her after their mother. Though technically only half-siblings, she has never met someone who has understood her so quickly or thoroughly. Growing up, the two had been inseparable, comfortably standing side-by-side as they turned their oddly identical noses up at the rest of the world. Out of all of her siblings, Christian is the only one that Estelle considers to be her equal - the two eldest prepared to do anything for the Van Santen name.

Constantin held her hand loosely, trying to not lose her in the crowd that had suddenly appeared. Hood raised over his head to hide himself away from prying eyes, not wanting to end in another video. His father had somehow found out what happened, and although he’d been offered congratulations on who he had been with, he wasn’t as glad about the fact that he’d become part of a drama. Specially being the other man with somebody that was dating an Arslan. Warning him to stay away from anything that would affect the Moreau name, or create him any new enemies.

That’s why he had been so surprised when he’d approached her to talk once more, inviting her out to eat. Searching for the perfect place to take her had been hard, but finally he’d found a fancy, private hole in the wall sort of restaurant. Ducking his head into the opening, he sighed happy to be out of the street. “We are here,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. @estcllle​

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Over the past few weeks, Estelle’s level of stress had finally started to dissipate. It didn’t seem like her mother was in any immediate danger and their routines had slowly started to return to normal. Her hand felt comfortable in his, her head uncharacteristically kept down to avoid drawing any attention, more so for his benefit than hers. Keeping out of the limelight was not something Estelle was used to. 

After their last conversation Estelle hadn’t been expecting much when it came to her relationship with Constantin. Questions had been left unanswered and ties still hung loose. But then he called and invited her out to eat and maybe all hope wasn’t lost between them. She’d never been to this restaurant before but it had a lot of great reviews and she trusted Constantin’s taste ( usually ). Following him in, her first impression was good, the place was busy but not overwhelmingly so and the dim lighting made it easy to keep anonymity. “It looks great,” she responded, smiling up at him as a hostess led them over to their table. “I hadn’t even heard of this place before.” Estelle admitted as she took her seat. 

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“Sounds like you’re in need of a better bodyguard. Are ones that don’t fear death out of your price range?” Azra asked, knowing it sounded insensitive, but it truly was a legitimate question, “Though I’ll gladly take them. I can always use more things to throw at my siblings when they’re being especially stupid.” 

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Seeing Estelle for the first time after that text conversation was a bit of a shock for him. Knowing he wasn’t as prepared to face her as he had thought he was. Feelings of hurt and anger still resided deep within him, and that wasn’t the best start for a conversation as serious as this one. There was a part of him that wanted to leave, to choose himself and his feelings over hers in that moment, but he owed something to what they had. Closure was important for him, and even then he wasn’t sure closure was what he wanted.

“Well, let’s get this over with.” He walked into the private room he had booked, a table and two chairs as the main focal point of the room. Hidden behind two doors was a bedroom, and a bathroom, both doors closed. Constantin slid down onto one of the chairs, hands held in front of him faced down on the table. “It wouldn’t of been fair to just let it be as it was.”

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… .

virginia van santen was a woman of power. aydin arslan had been a man of power. estelle was a mirror of virginia. demir was meant to be a mirror of his father. perhaps they were doomed from the start. power and power did not often a match make. it was her fire versus his ice. it always had been. her passion versus his frost. two lovers never meant to mix. and it showed itself so very plainly in that moment. she spoke with enough intensity for the gods to hear ; he did nothing but watch, his connection to his father unconsciously growing as the sorrow he held for her dampened. and like his father, he considered his next words carefully. “ if fate is the truth, then everything is out of your control. if freewill is the truth, then you should grant your mother her own. you can’t rewind time. adding extra security can only take you so far. ” perhaps it was his fate. perhaps aydin arslan was his fate. “ the daughter hasn’t had enough time to become her own. a mother is a role model, not a mold. ” but perhaps her mother was her fate. perhaps virginia van santen was her fate. and her next question, he was meant to be grieving. he was meant to have just learned that his father had been butchered. he was meant to be in denial or anger or bargaining. but he had left all of those states long ago. but had he ever entered them ? or had the death of his father filled him with immediate peaceful acceptance ? perhaps both. his confusion… yes, perhaps both. and he remained confused and lost and going back and forth between encouraging azra’s subtle usurping and fearing it. she could note, perhaps, that it had taken demir seven seconds or so. consideration, confusion, all things in between. “ has the son ever longed to live up to the expectations of his father ? or have they been thrust upon him ? ”

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“You know, I might need to borrow that one,” Azra said as Estelle hung up the phone, “I’ve needed something that would work if my bodyguards don’t do their jobs, and I think that will definitely do the trick.”

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“Feel free,” Estelle sighed, not quite realizing it was Azra she was speaking to until she had slipped her phone back into her bag. “I’m sure your bodyguards are well-trained. These ones are apparently afraid someone will be coming back to finish the job and my dear mother, though I love her, is not taking the extra security detail well.” She smiled just slightly, it was a bit of a relief to talk to someone who understood. “I have plenty of other insults or threats if you need them.”

… .

how poetic. demir had become his father, estelle had become her mother. the only difference within it all was that virginia continued to breathe. estelle was not yet her mother’s replacement. and, because of that, she still had time to care. she had been trained just as he had, two businesses just as corrupt as the next, but her heart beat in sync with her mother’s. and he could see that looking at her. he could see the shred of humanity she had left surfacing as she spoke of the woman. “ i’m not attempting to belittle your sorrow, estelle. ” perhaps estelle, herself, was a different story, but not her sorrow ! “ your mother is a victim, yes. your mother is a target, yes. but you are not her keeper. she’s wise enough to make her own decisions, to analyze her own level of safety and deal with it as she longs to. ” a slip-up. a blip. the shot virginia van santen had endured had been nothing but a small misstep in the grand scheme of things. the protection the family had was strong. “ why do you choose to kill yourself over a situation that is out of your control ? is it because you look at this woman, older and wiser than yourself, and see your reflection ? ”

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as soon as the word control was mentioned, estelle felt herself snap. in a way she hadn’t done in years, she’d been trained better than that. you didn’t lose your temper, you were always poised and pleasant but her grip was starting to slip with this new information. her mother had almost been killed, her business partners were both dead. “it is not out of my control,” she said, her eyes full of fire as though saying it with enough conviction would make it true. “nothing is out of my control. i was distracted with trivial things - it won’t happen again. this is something i can control.” as if that question was enough, his next one made her laugh derisively, crossing her arms and fixing a look of understanding on him. he’d done this before and she wasn’t having it. “must you profile everyone all the time? please, don’t leave me waiting in suspense, tell me what it means that a daughter wants to be her mother?” perhaps it was the day, perhaps it was estelle being done with trying to get back in his good graces but looking at demir right now, she was disgusted. “is it better or worse than a son who could never live up to the expectations of his father?” 

Eighteen years of conditioning doesn’t just disappear over night, not even with her father’s dirty secrets aired out to dry and the blonde momentarily locked away for a crime that just the thought of leaves her sick to her stomach. Estelle’s words hurt because they’re familiar, ones her father had never said out loud but made known nonetheless, ones that she had used against herself plenty of times before. Estelle is just as cold and calculating as the rest of them, as the people who raised them, and Belva’s blue eyes watch her as that frustration turns into something that she can’t quite name. Even the threat, one that she doesn’t doubt the other woman would carry through, doesn’t bring the same sense of panic that those in the past have brought. Perhaps emerging from the bunker largely unharmed has made her braver, or perhaps she’s just less concerned for her own safety than she was before. She knows that it would be healthier if it were the first option, but everything that has happened recently has left her with a feeling in her chest that can only be described as incredibly heavy.

“You’re right, it really isn’t.” Her lips are pursed, expression neutral as she gives a tiny nod. She matches Estelle’s volume, not because she cares about the people listening in (perhaps the people of Vertmoor deserved to know what had been festering in their quiet town), but because volume doesn’t dictate impact. “Because I don’t understand how you could know that our parents were involved in something like that and not be upset about it. Not be angry.” Because even if none of them knew the exact details of whatever the Vidal Athanas Foundation was behind, there was enough there to piece together that it was nothing good. That it was perhaps the reason there were memories none of the Athanas children could find, locked away, parts of themselves boarded up that they had no way to rediscover. That it was the reason people kept turning up dead, with only more questions left to answer. “We don’t have to be our parents, Estelle. Maybe they don’t deserve us keeping their secrets anymore.” Her words are genuine, perhaps something resembling a plea as she looks at the older woman. There had been a time where she had done her father’s bidding without questions, but she wasn’t that girl anymore; not after he proved he didn’t deserve it again and again. 

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Estelle trained her eyes on Belva, any warmth that had been in them draining away slowly and then all at once. “Involved in what exactly? You’re so up in arms about it, you must know every detail so, go on. What was it that they were doing?” What happened behind the sealed doors of the foundation was hidden away for good reason. People would ask too many questions, get too many ideas, and leap to false conclusions. Was it all legal? No, even Estelle knew that but when you knew the means justified the ends? What good could their work do versus what sacrifices were made to get there? She liked to think it would be worth it. And if her mother supported it, so did she. 

“If I had parents like yours, I wouldn’t want to be like them either. To be quite fair, I don’t know who my father is so perhaps I don’t want to be like him but we’ll never know. As for my mother...if I turn out to be half the woman she is, I will be twice the woman yours was.” She took a step away, preoccupied as her phone vibrated with an incoming text from Christian. “And if you’re concerned about secrets, Belva, I would worry about your own family’s, there are plenty to keep you busy without having to dig around in mine.”