( türku su demirel, cis woman, she-her, #girlsgirl + muse l ) 🐬 ⋆｡˚ what’s the word around alya seren in capri these days ? don’t look at me like that, you know them — they go by ally, you know, the twenty-eight year old local. you can probably spot them at faro bianco, having their stracciatella gelato and taking a break from being a/an ballerina & local tour guide at mercato solemare , where people describe them as distant and reticent, but others swear they’re steadfast and diligent if you catch them at the right moment. they fit somewhere between trying your hardest only to fail, watching from tall windows as the world passes you by, a golden compact mirror kept hidden in your pockets, complete potency laced into a single glare though most people associate them with constantly getting lost despite being a tour guide °‧🫧⋆˚｡⋆
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥
tba ( after i got some sleep )
𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲
alya used to be a bright child, carefree, laughter opening bottled sunshine and blissfully unaware that nothing in the world ever came for free. that even blood could not lift the debt of a family name.
this period of unawareness did not only last for a fracture of her youth, and as soon as her small world decided that worth was measured by performance it cracked, curtains collapsing to present the real stage of life.
see, perhaps if she just didn’t struggle, if everything just came so natural to her, she could’ve lived in contained perfection. after all, she was privileged enough not to ever worry about money, not being able to attend a field trip or participate in another talk about whatever vacation was oh so in fashion now. but what she didn’t know that things could be paid in other currencies, that one that only obtains worth when used with certain people, that that is actually meant to be infinite. love. yet, with plenty of physical property, somehow her family seemed to be lacking of that other thing. and alyawould soon find out that some things are truly sparse.
still young and as bright-eyed as someone her age was supposed to be, alya did not mind failing. she did not care about being the best. but as the first bad grade slipped in, she realized that some things simply did not fit her family’s name. disappointment, she could handle that. but what she couldn’t was the shame in her parents’ eyes, as if they just realized that one puzzle piece did not fit in. the following day, she wasn’t met with a scolding but with silence, as if she simply did not belong, as if she had to prove herself to live up to her name.
the next time, she tried harder and she succeeded and she fell back to the girl who used to smile so brightly. however, she didn’t get the reaction she expected, she got no reaction at all. as if they were telling her, that was just the way it was supposed to be. of course, this result was expected, after all it was only natural for someone of them.
the same events, would play on an endless loop, alya would return home, feigning effortless perfection, getting no acknowledge but at least she was spared from shame. she’d realized that this was just the way her life would need to play out, that she should be satisfied with the dullness that came with a comfortable life. one that wasn’t comfortable at all. it was only when one day she was dragged to a ballet class by her friend, that alya realised that the feeling after hard work did not need to be complete detachment, that there were cracks in monotony, with joy leaking through.
it began as a joy that did not need to be shared or approved by anyone, untouched by the reality of her life. but as soon as her parents would notice that their daughter was gifted they’d used it to brag about it with pitched voices and satisfied smiles. it was rare to see them proud, though she wasn’t sure whether that pride even had to do with her. but if you have to beg for love your whole life, even a shred of class only mirroring the real thing was enough.
soon, when her parents decided she was worth it, they invested in her training while still expecting a flawless academic performance. it was difficult of course but a price she was willing to pay if it meant that she could at least hold onto that one thing she loved. dreaming about more and everything after.
eventually, she made it. still with a plastered smile that would hide the exhaustion in her eyes. but she made it. and for a while she could live that fantasy, dancing in a body that finally felt like her own, on stages all over the world she could swear belonged to her in those moments. and for a while that fantasy lasted, until it expired as easily as the first years of her youth.
the scene began beautifully, until a dull noise echoed through the hall, followed by a broken whimper that escaped her lips as she was trying to swallow the pain. a sound that would carve into her bones forever. she thought the floorboards had given way beneath her, but it was her world crumbling under her feet. in an instant she knew with a sickening certainty that she’d never dance again. even at the hospital the hope had left with a part of her sould. she didn’t need doctors to tell her this, wrap up her despair in clinical terms.
when she returned home, she told no one about it and kept the illusion that this was a temporary phase. but when she unpacked, staring at a meaningless pair of pointe shoes, her whole body racked with quiet sobs and the night ended with the shoes in the trash.
with her losing her job, alya knew she couldn’t return to her family home. she was too ashamed and scared to look at their faces, confirm what they knew all the time. that’s why she had to move out of her apartment into a cheaper one, and got a job as a tour guide as she still needs to figure out what to do with the rest of her life.
tl;dr: former ballerina who is still lying about her very permanent and career ending injury she's depressed about and which has caused an early midlife crisis, who is also a tour guide now because she likes to make things complicated and is way too proud to ask her parents for financial aid. and now all these poor tourists have to suffer and pay for bad tours and leave one (and a half ) star reviews because their tour guide sucks.
𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
personality-wise, she’s a perfectionist, she has learned to hide her feelings and is good at it, especially with strangers as it is easier to pretend with people that don’t know you. however, she truly cares about how people perceive her and feels like she always has to prove herself sometimes. with people she’s close to she is brighter and more like she used to be, and her temper can definitely shine through. still, she always has her guards up a little and can’t completely let go off the need to appear perfect.
she likes learning new things but also tends to drop them when she realizes she isn’t good at them.
that’s also the reason she doesn’t know how to swim, she tried it almost drowned once and then never tried it again.
has the worst sense of direction, and it also reflects on her job. one would think that someone who grew up in capri knows how to get around without having to open google maps to find popular tourist attractions ( and still ending up at some other place) and having to improvise the whole tour. speaking of no one truly knows how she got the job considering all that.
is very sentimental about things, she saves movie tickets from five years ago, brochures from some trips she’d made with her friends, gifts from elementary school, birthday cards etc. and tells herself and everyone that she’ll made an album. she’d been saying that same thing since at least ten years
more tba
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬
tba ( after i got some sleep )
roommates who are both broke - alessandro
