🎀 Daphne Doğan · 26 · mechanic at Pines & Ridge auto, bartender at the Rusty Dog on Friday and Saturday nights || Pinar Deniz ||️ i · v · insp · th · Pins
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❝But the absence of a thing will loom larger than its presence…
Moodboard: Pinterest
Name: Dakota Celene Reyes ☼ Nicknames: D/Kota
Age: 33
Birthday: 15th June
Occupation: Freelance documentary photographer • Regular contributor to National Geographic • Part-time photographer for the Ennora Ledger when in town
Former roles: Photography assistant, freelance event photographer, university photography tutor (briefly)
Residence: Maple Row
Family: Santiago and Milo Reyes (half-brothers), Ivan and Ignacio Reyes (nephews, Andrea, Aurora and Romy Reyes (nieces), Mateo Reyes (father, passed away)
Pets: none
Hobbies
Wildlife photography, hiking, backpacking, birdwatching, collecting magnets from every country she visits, journaling while travelling, camping under the stars, learning basic phrases in different languages
Edges: Dry sense of humour, easily distracted outside of photography, restless, stubborn, sometimes competitive
Flaws: Self-sabotaging, avoids emotional confrontation, pushes people away before they can leave, struggles to ask for help, throws herself into work when overwhelmed, assumes she knows what's best for everyone else emotionally, proud
Dakota was never supposed to happen. Less than a year after losing his wife, Dove, Mateo Reyes had only just begun seeing someone new when the relationship unexpectedly resulted in a pregnancy. The woman had never wanted children and made it clear she wasn't prepared to become a mother. She carried Dakota to term before walking away shortly after the birth, leaving Mateo with a newborn he hadn't expected and two teenage sons still grieving their own mother.
Mateo suddenly found himself raising an unexpected newborn while trying to keep both his family and Dove Woodworks afloat. Much of Dakota's early childhood was spent in the workshop, with a kindly neighbour helping care for her whenever Mateo was working and her brothers stepping in whenever they could.
Santiago, only fifteen at the time, threw himself into helping without ever being asked. Milo became Dakota's favourite playmate, forever sneaking her sweets and teaching her the sort of things older brothers probably shouldn't.
Her happiest childhood memories were split between Dove Woodworks, where she'd wander around with endless curiosity while Santiago learned the trade from their father, and afternoons spent following her brothers into the woods, usually being told she was too little to keep up.
When she turned 9, her brothers gave her a camera for her birthday. It was a rather random present that turned out to be the thing that would change her future immensely. Since she got her hands on the device, she barely left it out of her sight. She took it to school, carried extra negatives in her backpack and always tried to think of how one day she’d document all her travels, and she'd be rich and have the money to go anywhere she wanted. She became fascinated by stories as much as photographs, often spending longer talking to strangers than actually taking their picture.
Teen Years:
Photography became less of a hobby and more of a calling. While her classmates were trying to decide what they wanted to do after graduation, Dakota already knew. She threw herself into geography, history and photography, spending weekends travelling to nearby towns simply to photograph people and places.
Her father worried about how uncertain the profession would be, but eventually accepted that nothing else would ever make her as happy.
She left Ennora to study photography in New York, promising she'd only be gone for a few years.
University Years:
At first, Dakota fell in love with New York and what it could offer her, the new people she didn't know and knew nothing about her and her family. She partied more, started an Instagram account called Details of New York and roamed the streets with friends, studying less and mainly diving into practice.
During her second year, Dakota's best friend and roommate, Daisy, was killed in a car accident that Dakota survived. The accident left her carrying intense survivor's guilt. She withdrew from friends, questioned every decision she'd made and seriously considered abandoning university altogether.
It was Santiago who convinced her that Daisy would have hated seeing her give up the dream they'd talked about so often. She finished her degree, though she never completely let go of the guilt she carried home from that night.
Career:
By graduation, Dakota had already begun building a name for herself through freelance documentary work. Her Instagram page had hundreds of thousands of followers. She spent several years accepting assignments from newspapers, charities and travel magazines before becoming a regular contributor for National Geographic.
Her work has taken her across Africa, South America, Asia and Europe, documenting wildlife, remote communities and humanitarian projects. Some assignments last a few weeks; others, several months.
Whenever she returns to Ennora, she picks up work with the Ennora Ledger, photographing local events, portraits and community stories while preparing for her next adventure.
Current life:
After years of constantly moving, Dakota sometimes jokes that airports feel more familiar than her own apartment.
She insists she loves the freedom her career gives her, and for the most part, she truly does. But every return home reminds her that life in Ennora has continued without her. Friends have married, families have grown, and children she remembers as toddlers are now bigger.
She has just come home from another months on job abroad.
Romantic History
In school, Dakota dated a few guys, but none really meant much, just simple teenage crushes.
In university, she had a three-year situationship with a guy whom telling him she was considering making things official.
Once she started working, she could never begin dating in the true sense. When something seemed like it might become serious, she would be called off to another job across the world and be gone for weeks or months.
Habits & Quirks
Always carries at least one camera.
Buys a magnet everywhere she travels.
Rarely unpacks completely before leaving again.
Takes candid photographs instead of posed ones.
Learns how to say "thank you" first in every new language.
Falls asleep surprisingly easily on planes.
Prefers window seats everywhere.
Always has spare camera batteries in every bag.
Absentmindedly photographs people she cares about when they aren't looking.
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❝ Most people also think Vikings wore horned helmets. Popular opinion isn't a reliable measure of what's worth learning, ❞ Raika's gaze dropped briefly to the soft, rhythmic tapping of Milvi's neatly kept almond-shaped nails, the muted nude polish complementing rather than demanding attention. There was no hiding the fact that Milvi was beautiful, but Raika assumed she already knew that truth herself, so there was no point in being poetic about it. ❝ They suit you. Practical. They don't get in the way. ❞
❝ The museum? ❞ Raika echoed, leaning forward just enough to betray her curiosity. At the very mention of the institution safeguarding local history and archives, the composed reserve in her sharp, dark eyes gave way to unmistakable interest, her expression brightening in a way that was subtle but genuine. If there was any place in town that breathed life into Raika's soul, aside from this sushi place, it would be the museum with its fill of historical facts and assorted trivia. ❝ Preserving the things everyone else forgets... Now that's worthwhile work. ❞
Raika then paused, considering Milvi's question as carefully as she did most things. A faint smile tugged at one corner of her mouth before settling again. As if preparing to unleash a longer than necessary monologue, she took in a deep breath, ❝ Every day is service calls, installations, inspections, or repairs. Most weeks are a mix of planned jobs and whatever decides to fail without warning. Once a month there's usually something larger, a commercial project, preventative maintenance, or an emergency that throws every schedule out the window. It keeps me busy. I prefer it that way. ❞
"There are many misconceptions about the past..." she agreed, her smile now a bit warmer as she found herself surprised at the random historical detail, especially one critiquing something popular. The reality was actually quite niche, something mostly discussed by people interested in Viking history. Popular media often depicted things very wrongly. It took her a moment too long to realise what the next sentence was pointing toward, looking finally down at her nails and blanking. "Oh... thank you. They are... comfortable," she said with some hesitation, such small details not having been pointed out for the past few months. She wasn't sure how to feel about it being brought up, and so instead of continuing her tapping, she stopped the movement. As if keeping her hand still will make it invisible again.
Then Milvi was shaking her head, a softness to her expression. "I simply... archive the history. The preserving is left to our conservators and curators," she assured Raika, not wanting to take away the credit of people like Amy. Then she nodded along with the words coming out of the other's lips, listening intently, her sushi forgotten for right now. "It all sounds very... methodical," she said after a brief silence settled once Raika explained the work.
If Elio looks like he just rolled out of bed before arriving that would be somewhat close to accurate but not entirely so. Technically he hadn't been in bed at all and he had been in his studio inside his apartment, half perched on the armrest of the chaise lounge with his thumb pressing his lip against his teeth while he stared at his current project. He'd been staring at the canvas for almost three hours already, contemplating things. This was how things were for Elio. Time simply didn't cooperate with him. He'd only thought he'd just sat down and began to consider the canvas and the paint only for him to glance at the clock and realize hours had passed instead of minutes. When did that happen? He had to leave pretty promptly to avoid being late and even still he arrives a few minutes after their scheduled time.
Despite his hair looking fluffy and unkempt his clothes is relatively neat, which is unique, but precisely only because he'd been entirely stationary for three hours. He wears just a simple shirt and jeans which are indeed paint stained. Almost everything he owns ends up with paint on it somehow.
"Yes, hello. I'm here," he voice is low and warm like an aged oak bottle of whiskey. Deep shadows rest beneath his eyes as permanent installations to his features along with the grey speckled stubble adorning his jaw. He stares at the offered chocolates and then tilts his head as if confused why they're there at all. "Chocolates." He finally takes the box and holds it, also a little awkwardly. Honestly it has been a long time since Elio has been on a date. He'd signed up for Tinder on a whim and had just about to begin regretting it when he'd gotten that notification indicating they'd matched.
"We can eat these during the show," Elio concludes when he accepts the box and tucks it under his arm. "I prefer dark. You can eat the milk."
"Hm," Rick nodded as the box was taken, and he sat there, not sure what to do with his hands for a few seconds before putting both in the back pockets of his jeans. "Yeah, that sounds good. Deal," he nodded at the offer of sharing, not having considered it. He then remembered that they should probably get going if they didn't want to be late. He pulled one hand from his pocket, fishing his wallet out to retrieve the tickets.
"Right, in the play, might as well head in?" he suggested, holding them out now. "I don't think theatres do ads… do they?" he asked, trying to be funny but also unsure. Everything seemed to have even more ads now, literally everywhere you looked; he could even swear some of the people he'd swiped on the ad were either conspicuously sitting close to products or sponsored.
As they stood there still, his gaze finally went over the man before him, lingering on his eyes filled with tiredness, on his lips, and then on his clothes, noticing the colourful patches of paint. They hadn't discussed anything so far in their brief conversation, so he was free to ask whatever he guessed. All he knew was a name and an age. And that he liked theatre, musicals and dinner outside. "Nice jeans," he said, returning his gaze to nowhere in particular, not wanting to stare at the paint.
To be fair Kitty wasn’t far behind Daph, even if she was pretending to be more sober than was actually factual. The room swaying a little in front of her but as long as she didn’t move her head too quickly from one direction to the other it was…mostly fine. Her hand clutched in the other’s she hummed along to the song despite having no idea what it was - she was pretty sure she’d never heard it before but that could just be a trick of the drinks she’d consumed. Her best friend had been insistent that they let loose on this night out and who was Kit to argue with an idea that solid, how could it go wrong? Sure she hadn’t written down the address of where they were staying before downing four shots in a row but potato tomato.
The two of them had been drinking from each other’s glasses so much thus far that there was no telling the mix of different types of liquor in their bloodstreams. Mixing alcohols was never wise and they’d pay for it in the morning. “Shots shots shots shots…” She sang in response to the slur in her ear, wiggling her hips as she held her hands up in the air which meant dragging her friend’s up above their heads with her with reckless abandon.
“Tequila…” she answered in a slur not dissimilar, nodding towards the bar with her head - oof that was a mistake and the room span before tilting on its axis for a second, then straightening out. “Imma come with you, go go go.” Pushing her from behind straight into the person next to them without caring, wanting to get past and since everyone here was jostling for position why shouldn’t she join in.
"SHOTSSSSSS," Daphne repeated in a cheer as if that was a prize of some kind, stumbling when her hand was pulled up, her feet doing a little jiggle as she tried to keep from falling in her too-high heels. She had no idea how they'll reach anywhere after, but who the fuck cared? Then, keeping the ghostly ooo-ing and repetition, she screamed: "Tequilaaaa," she agreed with a solemn nod that immediately made her regret moving her head. "Wallah... who invented spinning?" she muttered before breaking into a laugh anyway.
As Kitty started moving through the crowd, Daphne offered absolutely zero resistance, almost skipping after her so her feet wouldn't have to touch the ground. Or at least she wanted to do that; in reality, she was literally bulldozing through everyone, her hand slapping someone's head or shoulder... or face? "SORRYYYY!" she shouted to the poor soul, though she was already several steps away and laughing too hard to mean it very much. "I..." she started but shut up as they finally stopped running and leaned on the bar. "I'm gonna jst... " she started, but the other word was too unrecognisable, and she already forgot it anyway. She probably needed to sober up just a bit so she could save face. Or find someone just as shit-faced. "We have to look for smeone cute... to pay!"
Cullen laughed, shaking his head. Well hell, maybe they could both learn from their son, then. Though he didn't think he could complain about their impulsive natures. Impulsivity had gotten them into this 'mess', hadn't it? And he wasn't mad about that. He loved the twins, and he loved Ok-na, even if it wasn't in a girlfriend or a wife kind of way. She'd always been like family to him, and this just solidified that, made them family in a more tangible way. 'Baby mama' might have sounded offensive, but he thought of her as so much more than just his best friend. And it was hitting him now that they hadn't been able to just be best friends in a while. Not with the babies around. It was likely his fault, his inability to balance everything, but he wasn't going to admit that he was struggling. So he kept smiling as easily as he always had, kept watching the babies, ignored any negative feelings he might have had to swallow down a few times now and then.
"If that's the case, I'll respect it. Maybe I'll rent an RV for family camping trips. Or, what's it called, glamping?" He winced at the word, feeling weird even saying it. "And they'll only hate us because our babies win in every category, right?"
"Hmmm," she drew the sound out as she placed the cup down again and leaned more heavily into her hand, watching the twins wriggle around like little worms trying to figure out the whole crawling thing, as if that was not only the beginning of a long line of equally exhausting milestones waiting for them. "Yeah, that actually might be good. It kind of reminds me of that time we tried to camp in the backyard of your folks' house..." she said, reaching out to steady Ode a bit, even if it earned an indignant baby's humph. "I admit the spider that tried to eat me still haunts me to this day," she made a face, but shook her head half-heartedly.
She looked at him again and her smile grew. "Yeah... yeah, I'll give them that, but only for a bit. Then they better learn to love these two munchkins, or I'll start a war over it," she sighed. Having Ok-na admit to being this attached wasn't always easy. Sure, she was good at communicating with people and pleasing people, but she rarely had someone close. Cullen was one, some of his siblings, her own parents, maybe even Lake... but everyone else barely made a dent. It was biased, of course, but the twins were making the biggest dent so far.
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A quiet laugh escaped Ethan as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes wandering from the abandoned building to her face, lingering on the warmth in her dark eyes and the quiet confidence she carried even in the freezing night. ❝ No, no ghosts here, ❞ he teased with an easy grin. ❝Just me. ❞ He let the joke settle before adding, softer, ❝ Seems we both love the same things, don't we? ❞
At the mention of red, he simply nodded once, ❝ Noted. ❞ It sounded casual, but he tucked the fact away with surprising care, as though it belonged beside the details he never forgot when they mattered. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he cleared his throat into his fist, buying himself another second. ❝ Alright... Three facts... ❞ Another cough followed, this one entirely for his own nerves. His gaze met hers, earnest despite the faint smile threatening the corner of his mouth. ❝ You've...been thinking about me... I've been thinking about you... ❞ A beat passed as the words settled into the small space between them, his heartbeat seeming louder than the silence before he finished with a crooked, almost sheepish smile, ❝ ...and one of us needs to...pee? ❞
The last line tried to break just enough of the tension to keep it from tipping over the edge, though his eyes never quite left hers, quietly waiting to see whether she'd laugh, challenge him, or decide which of the three she believed was the lie.
"Good, no enthusiasm from either to explore for ghosts sounds splendid... imagine the stories these abandoned places may hold..." she said, jokingly, but a part of her shivered at the idea, especially as they still sat in the almost pitch black, light coming only from the moonlight reflected on the snow all around. She wondered if they also spoke about... not literal ghosts? She hoped neither of them had people haunting them from their past.
"Three facts," she mused, nodding as he coughed before he proceeded with the facts, her breath temporarily catching before she made herself breathe before his third one was out of his lips. Her stomach did another flip, as though the stakeout had quietly turned into something far closer to a date than either of them had intended. And she wasn't quite sure how she wanted to proceed from there, a complication that often plagued her life. She hmm-ed, long and loud, pressing a finger to her lips and pressing on them to hide the smile that threatened to bloom there. It was actually nice to imagine he meant something very different from what he probably did.
"I would hope we both are thinking of each other right now... after all, we are partners, out here endangering ourselves," she said, finally, stringing the words into a coherent sentence as much as she could. She wished to say what she had actually been thinking about for the better part of the evening. Instead, she swallowed the words before they could even begin to form. That seemed too forward, too bold. And she wasn't bold in every aspect, as she wished to seem sometimes. "But we've both drunk some coffee, so that might be an issue too," she added, tapping her finger now that she had tamed her grin. "I'd say that is the lie tho, you are not restless enough in your seat to be holding in, and I don't have any desire to leave the car just now," she concluded at last and kept looking straight into his eyes.
They were conducting an awful stakeout right now.
"How about... I like to give orders sometimes," she started, keeping her forefinger raised to her face, amusement in her eyes. "I can crochet a scarf in one evening," she added, raising a middle finger now, too. "And... I considered majoring in photography," she said at last, thinking over what could be a convincing lie. That sounded good enough, with her passion for photography and her camera on her so often.
location: 345 bar for happy hour
with: @littlesugarnspice ( milvi & lake )
"Thank you for telling me about that exhibit. It was really interesting," Lake says to her as he removes his suit jacket and drapes it across the back of his seat, leaving him in a tan silk button down shirt, subtly a woman's shirt as the buttons fasten right over left. Lake often doesn't care about gendered clothing items and tends to shop in all sections, drawing only to what he finds interesting and nice. "Please, let me treat you tonight." He rolls up his sleeves until they reach his elbows to give himself a more casual appearance and to keep his sleeves from getting dirty while leaning against the edge of the table.
Since his very minor medical episode at the office some time ago, he's been trying to make more time for occasions such as these. Taking a quiet hour or two on the weekend away from any work to visit the museum or art gallery. It's not really something that appeals to River so he was going by himself and met Milvi one day. This is their first time meeting outside for drinks though and hopefully not the last.
Having come from work, Milvi wore a typical pantsuit, heels on, makeup minimal and he hair in a pushed-back sleek bun so it wouldn't be in her face. Of course, some unruly curls had escaped, but that was expected after a full day out, plus the afternoon being spent around the museum for the new exhibition, and now finding herself in a bar. She couldn't say she was extremely comfortable with the idea of it, but she supposed that this could be considered part of her new version. The music, however, seemed too loud and the lights too dim, but she would try to adapt. She always did know how to do that.
She gave a small smile at the man next to her as they made themselves comfortable. "Oh, of course. I'm glad that you enjoyed it. I do know our curator worked very hard on picking all the items," Milvi said in a quiet tone and then had to remind herself to speak louder. She had made herself a small circle of people to go out with recently and was both happy and daunted by that. Lake, however, seemed very quiet too, most of the time, so she didn't mind him one bit. "There's no need, really. I'm okay with paying. I will probably have a glass of... " Her hazel eyes returned to the menu and scanned the one-page menu. "An Avitation, perhaps," she said at last.
