i breathed in the night

ABOUT

Full Name/Nickname: Meliha Rüya Çetin, goes by Mila.

Age/DOB: 32 / February 4th, 1990

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Gender: Cis female, she/her

Place of Birth: Paris, France

Arrondissement: Entrepot (10th)

Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Bisexual 

Religion: Muslim

Occupation: New owner of Belleville Restaurant / Marketing Executive in Turkey (on leave)

-

Nephi grinned and nodded. “Me too, don’t worry,” he said in French. “I’m probably going to take at least a few hours getting home.” He kept his hand on her, then studied her for a moment longer. He bit the inside of his cheek and cocked an eyebrow. “We know each other,” he said, but they had both been long, in the years before he had become something else entirely. Kids become adults but he wasn’t so sure which kid might’ve turned into her. He narrowed his eyes a little, watching her carefully. “Mila?”

          “Tell me about it.. I seem to have forgotten all of the short cuts in this city, but I bet they wouldn’t be worth taking anyway with all of this snow,” she was frustrated to say the least; but as someone who wasn’t familiar with snow, she truly believed it would stop soon. Right? She was about to babble on about wasting a few hours at a nearby cafe in the hopes it would be over quickly, when his words paralysed her. We know each other. The look of confusion was clear in her expression; the way her brows pulled taut, her lips parted, and her eyes searched his features in hope of answers. Mila.. it took her a moment or two longer, perhaps, but really — how could she forget the look in his eyes. A friendship, so profound and so nostalgic, an I wonder that had planted itself in her mind for many, many years. “Nephi? Nephi.. it’s really you?!” Before she could even help herself, she was reaching forward to pull him into an embrace. 

-

Focused on his job, brown eyes quickly left her and returned to the notes in his hand. He nodded and repeated the name, “Che-tin…I see.” Tiago didn’t take offence to the tone, knowing that she must be in pain and frankly, he was used to patients taking that out on him. A burn, he noted, flicking his eyes back over at her. They were one of the more painful injuries you could endure, so he softened and gave her an empathetic smile. That smile quickly vanished and he looked at her confused, raising a thick brow. “I hope so or this would be very awkward for us both, no?” Tiago laughed and pulled the chair over, sitting down in front of her. 

“Call me Tiago,” he offered, eyes meeting hers. Those dark browns slipped and darted around the features on her face, finally noticing her beauty. It was rare he ever broke professionalism but there was something about her that compelled him to gaze. It was merely a moment but he realised he had been staring and quickly dipped his down, hiding the embarrassment. Warm hands reached out to her injured hand, his fingertips lightly touching her own and her wrist so that he could gently move and inspect the injury. “Ay dios mio,” he mumbled, softly pulling her hand closer towards him. “I’m sure it’s very sore, yes?” It was a superficial burn to the skin that would have no long lasting damage, but it was deep enough to hurt and it would blister. 

       It was stupid, really. It’s not like she’d never been around a kitchen before.. she was basically raised by her babanne (grandmother). But in her haste and nervousness, she’d somehow managed to burn her hand whilst handling the grill in the Belleview Restaurant kitchen. Upon her arrival to Paris, the staff had been incredibly friendly towards her. That was, until they were made aware of her plans to jazz up the place to sell.. since then, all she’d been met with was animosity, and a complete lack of enthusiasm at all the recipes she wished to add to the menu. Meliha couldn’t quite understand it — it’s not like she didn’t want the restaurant to continue, she still wanted the peace of mind knowing someone else would continue it.. but her home remained in Turkey and, quite frankly, she could use the money. 

       A slight smile touched her lips for a fragment of a second at his response, looking up to find his features now. And for a few moments, she was distracted. Distracted by the fact that she was being treated by an incredibly hot doctor — she’d watched enough Grey’s Anatomy to know that hot doctors were reserved solely for the likes of Hollywood. Had she stepped into an episode?! The sudden searing sensation of her hand begged to differ; reminding her that she was very much experiencing reality.. Watching his features as he inspected it, she followed his gaze down to her hand. She really needed to check herself before she wrecked herself. “Tiago it is.” She hated the way that rolled off of her tongue so effortlessly. “And uh—yeah, it’s about a five. Out of five,” she smirked, before resuming her frown. “Kidding.. it uh, burns really badly, but I’m managing.” Barely. Why did she always felt an inherent need to seem tougher than she actually was?! Peering up at Tiago now to gauge his expression in response to her question, she asked, “Do you think it’ll scar?” 

✧･ﾟ* ☾

As much as Lida appreciated Mila’s positive spin on this, her mind had other opinions as her gut feeling knew her conversation with her youngest sister would be a shit show. “Don’t know about best sister title, but definitely agree with you on the cousin one.” she replied with a low chuckle. “Both, but it also depends on the weight of the conversation. She either puts up a mask or bends and breaks. I guess time will only tell.” Lale thought with her heart, while Lida thought with her mind. It’s what differentiates the two from each other. 

Shaking her head, Lida made the decision to just wing it. After much thought, she realized that her nerves and anxieties would probably get the best of her. If she was too prepared it wouldn’t come off as genuine, but because she ran it by Mila, she believed it was GOOD ENOUGH to move forward with such intentions. “I think I’ll leave it at that. I don’t want to look into it too much and overanalyze it. I’ll just tell her the truth and give her a run down of my stay…I mean she doesn’t even know that I’ve officially moved here long term either.” A soft smile crept onto her lips as she was grateful for her cousin’s support, “Distract?” she repeated with a curious tone. “From what, hm?” 

       “You’re afraid of it all blowing up, aren’t you?” As someone who was incredibly sensitive when it came to news about her own family, let alone if it were about her estranged father, she could only imagine how Lale would react to the news. It was a difficult situation all ‘round, and she knew Lale would need extra love and support when she did eventually discover the news. “Look, if all goes to shit, I’ll even help you escape Paris,” she joked, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “But in all honesty, let me know what I can do to help. Whether it’s acting oblivious, taking Lale’s mind off of things.. anything. Just tell me. —She doesn’t know you’re here for the long haul? Well, merde. Sounds like we have our work cut out for us! How do you think she’ll feel about that? Your staying here, I mean?” Meliha immediately shakes her head, eyes widening — she’d rather do anything but veer into what she truly needed a distraction from. “Oh, nothing. Just—it’s been a difficult run with the restaurant, you know? But we’ll get there.” 

WHERE: near the police station in the centre of the city WITH @paristarters​

Nephi pulled his bomber jacket closer to his body using both hands, shivering a little at the intense wind. There had been a snow storm a few years back, or perhaps more than a few, he remembered being young, and Paris being beautiful. Now the city was empty, people hiding out in their houses and emergency services having their hands full. He reached out when someone close to him almost fell on the icy streets. “Ay, facile là-bas,” he said with a smile, keeping them from the floor. 

       Far be it from the weather she was used to, Meliha was basically slipping and sliding all over the place. She really needed to invest in some proper shoes if the snow was going to continue. Mid thinking she finally had it under control, her world as she knew it spun from beneath her; until she was saved, of course, by a much more experienced civilian. “Shit!” Feeling like she’d lost her breath, Mila took a deep inhale as she brought herself back to a standing position, using the other’s arms to steady herself. “Bu çok sinir bozucu! / This is so frustrating!” It was then that she realised she was being incredibly rude, fixing her hair out of her face as she turned to finally look at the other. “Je m'excuse. Merci de m'aider. Je n'ai clairement pas l'habitude de la neige. / I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me. I’m clearly not used to the snow,” a sheepish smile tugged at her lips as she dusted herself off. 

time: 23:10 location: le rouge nightclub status: @mcliha​

He faces the inky black of night, brick wall at his back. A cacophony exists behind him; a meld of music contained within the four walls of Le Rouge. March’s air is bitter against his flush cheeks - faux-fur of his jacket tucked tightly around his jawbone. One half is shadowed by the night beyond, the other lit with the flickering entryway light. He’s caught between surface-level conversations of fellow chain-smokers, his fingers itching for his empty flask, willing it full again. There’s a laugh which vibrates from somewhere deep within him as he inhales, the smoke filtering his lungs. As they converse, he allows his gaze to skim over a mass of idle bodies as water would over smooth rock.      It lingers, caught on a snag - the water, it seems, does not wear the stone to something soft and malleable. It lingers and it’s uncharacteristically self-effacing; a still moment, not a thorn nestled within her side. For a moment, he cannot help but feel disgruntled at his own response, at how quickly he could flinch at the first sight of sable. He stills himself; taking a practiced drag, the smoke billowing from his nostrils.      “And here I thought the liquor would be the best thing I’d taste tonight,” he challenges, finally, brow raised and lips curling into a comfortable smirk. It feels all too familiar to settle as he does, surrounded by unknown faces and yet entirely focused on her alone. “Was that a little too presumptuous of me, Tournesol?”

          Meliha is too self-absorbed, as always, to even notice her newfound counterpart. Intoxication surely played a part, a blinging light glaring back at her as she squinted to read the texts. It was as dark a night as any; Paris hadn’t seen warmer days just yet, though hints of Spring had been lingering in the air. Managing to shove her phone back into the pocket of her leather jacket, she breathed a sigh of relief.. maybe fresh air was exactly what she needed. Her fingertips pull at the pins that clasp her dark locks now, causing them to cascade down her back now in thick, voluminous waves. The sound of his voice, however, broke her little bubble and averted her attention towards him. There’s momentary confusion, and then recognition.. and then a little more confusion. Dark eyes trail down the length of him, and as she examines his features, she’s found the answers she’s so desired. She swears he’s stolen a cab of hers before or something, and as they say: hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

         Mahogany hues fixate upon his own as she manoeuvres towards him, a smirk firmly planted on her features now. Tournesol.. the urge to roll her eyes is overwhelming, but she manages to keep it at bay. That smug look of his ignited a sudden desire to just claw it right off; if only it were that simple. But no, instead she’d succumb to toying with his forwardness.. and pry to discover just how much he could handle. The girl was bored, after all. She tries not to think too much about their sudden close proximity as her fingertips curl carefully around the cigarette in his hand. Maintaining his gaze, she manages to remove it and give it a temporary home between her lips. After a deep inhale, she tilts her head a little, smoke spilling from her lips as she replies,

        “Keep dreaming, lé demon.”                   He was going to have to try a little harder than that.

-

The shock he was met with caused the grin to grow and he chuckled. “Yea, come on. It could help,” he argued. Caoimhín cleared his throat of the laughter and blue eyes met hers, “You can do it.” Her relationship with her father had a huge impact on her and as her friend, he hated that it held so much power over her. That’s why he was trying something as crazy as this to help her, because he was happy to act a fool and make her laugh about it, if it also helped her to share the weight of it all with someone. Holding on to your problems and letting them fester was something he knew all too well, as he rarely shared anything he felt. He refused to let anyone see that he was hurting inside. The man listens to her and an idea pops into his head. 

“Will this make you take me serious?” Caoimhín swigged down the last of the beer in his bottle, then stood up and bellowed into the night air, “Fuck you, Dad!” The words went as quick as they came, lost to the openness that they sat in. He laughed and held his hand out to her. “Come on, your turn, but you have to down the drink first - that’s the rules.”

          “I wouldn’t even know.. where to begin..” The whole thing made her nervous because, even broaching the idea of speaking to her father brought about a deep sense of discomfort, with the knowledge that she’d be facing her innermost demons. But, if she was going to attempt it at all, Finn was certainly the one to endure some practise with. Looking over at him, Mila pulls her brows together and swallows the rising lump in her throat, preparing her mind for the inevitable. “What do I even say?” And all at once, Caoimhín was standing up and shouting off of the rooftop and into the Parisian night.. all of which makes her laugh. This is why she’d learned to trust him, and why their friendship had solidified so quickly — he made any difficult situation feel semi okay and carried about him a profound sense of understanding. “Seriously? That’s where we start?” After a moment of hesitancy, she breathes a defeated sigh and takes his hand, standing up to shout out to the universe. Really, though, her voice is barely elevated past her usual volume. “Fuck you dad! —Is that good enough, Pairceir?” 

✧･ﾟ* ☾

This is exactly why she had to be with Meliha before seeing Lale. She was practically Switzerland in the Senol family—the voice of REASON. However, it was moments like this where Lida needed her the most and she knew what to do to comfort her. Even though her wine glass was not finished, Lida still went ahead and filled it up even more before going back to taking long sips. She needed this in order to get by through the day. It would be a plus if she even got a buzz as that adjusted her mood and slowed her reaction time. 

“I have to tell her Mila. I can’t take this shit to the grave. Our family is messy enough as it is.” Settling her glass on the table, the Senol heiress crossed her arms and puffed her cheeks as she tried to not have her mind wander off aimlessly. “Trust me, it won’t change anything. We’re far from functional….” She was being stubborn at this point, especially since she’s jumping into conclusions. “Yeah…At least it’ll be out in the open. Look, I’m sorry for putting you in the middle. Once this is all said and done, I won’t pester you anymore with this shit.”

            “Tell me about it.. but, from experience, I’d rather know if it were me. It’s up to her what she does with the information.. don’t be afraid. Lale’s got the best sister in the world.. and an amazing cousin,” she twirls her hair and rolls her eyes, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips as she moves to take another sip of whatever concoction they were up to now. “Maybe not.. but she’ll trust you, won’t she? —Out of curiousity, how do you think she’ll react? Act like it doesn’t phase her and then probably let it eat her up inside?” From day one, Meliha had always valued respect and honesty above all else, even if it meant to the detriment of whatever it impacted. Her father had spun enough lies to affect her for a lifetime and a half. “Like the good cousin I am, I’m even happy to help you. Why don’t you practise on me? We can take the opportunity now to have you prepared. You know, for all kinda of possible scenarios. —Oh, thank god for that.. this shit is starting to give me wrinkles,” she smirks, a chuckle soon ensuing. “I’m kidding. You know I’m in it for the long haul, abla.. pester me all you want. Besides, it distracts me.”

─── ∘❉∘ ───

Lale has turned into herself since Lida had shown up at her door. She had no idea what to make of the situation ; there were too many components to comprehend as she tried to figure out how this sudden influx of change was going to fit into her life. ─── As much as she tried and tried to understand how this was going to work, the thoughts knawing at her mind had forced her to come to the conclusion that many of the pieces didn’t fit. ( not yet, lale hoped deep down ) Maybe it was selfish, but it has been so long since the Senol family has been together as a whole. As one unit. And it was certainly never a fun or loving palace to be in, not in Lale’s eyes, at least. Lida seemed to see different or maybe she just didn’t even care and wanted to move on from all of it, as much as Lale has been able to interrupt from their argument. Seeing Lida at her door made Lale think she wasn’t over everything, and has been pretending to be fine as the years went on to make it easier … So, yes, the artist has been uncharacteristically quiet as of lately, and she wonders if that’s why Meliha had invited her out. Darling, darling Meliha.

❝ No, I don’t believe you’ve lost your mind, ❞ Lale replies with a small shake of her head. ❝ I get it, I think. ❞ While one eye scopes out the area, she’s a lover of humanity, by all means. Lale is fundamentally wired to see this world with rose-coloured glasses. And she sees why people would gather here for social gatherings rather than your usual, depressing funeral. A cemetery can be a place for love cementing into ones bones. A cemetery is place for soulful reflection, to hear and listen to emotions with a clarity that comes with such quiet.  ❝ People think that cemeteries are creepy or haunted … But, I think they’re truly devoted to memory and rest. Love and humanity. ❞ Amid the gently bowing branches, amid the bonny kin of flowers, a sense of serenity comes to the cemetery. ❝ Then again, I’ve always been labeled as ’ The Crazy One ’ of the family. Or, ’ The Free Spirit, ’ if they decide they want to be nice about it. So, who knows, maybe you have lost your mind. So what? You got good company, Mila. ❞ 

          “Canım abla... / My darling sister,” as she so affectionately called her cousins, “Do you know how much I adore you?! You always know how to make me feel better.” Reaching over to touch Lale’s arm whilst donning the warmest of smiles, Mila couldn’t help but feel at peace instantly. She’d always found Lale to have that effect on people, always blanketing others in a wave of calm and always so full of support. “In my opinion, the crazy ones are always the most interesting. So if that’s the case for us then, what can I say? Life’s too short to be boring! —In all honesty.. I know it’s odd, but I just find this place to be peaceful.” A weighted sigh dares to escape her chest as she plants her gaze on an epitaph on a nearby tombstone. There were so many famous poets and musicians buried here, but so many that went unnoticed... and she often wondered who they were. “So tell me,” as she leans against a nearby pole, Mila turns her gaze back to her cousin now. “What’s going on in the life of Lale? How’s Lida?” Her concern was genuine, but there was a part of her that wanted to sus the situation to see if Lida had broken the news yet. 

STARTER: @mcliha​  LOCATION: Saint-Louis Hospital, Afternoon

The days were long in the wards of Saint-Louis and the work never ended, a fact that always caused the doctor to pause for concern. What did these people do to end up in these painful situations? He hadn’t been to the hospital in years yet had seen some patients twice over this year already. Thankfully, the cases tended to be nothing, or at least minor, the more traumatic ones were less frequent. I suppose accidents were to be expected in a city of two million. “Miss Çetin, yes?” Tiago asked as he entered the room, throwing her a friendly smile. Brown eyes glanced at her and he broke character, “Sorry, did I say that okay?” It wasn’t a name he had came across before, so he worried he had messed it up. Although, the ability to speak three languages tended to help with deciphering names. 

          Managing to break her gaze away from her hand, she looks up briefly at the man entering the room. At this point, she’s so fixated on the pain, she can’t really focus on much else. She notices his smile, and if it were any other time she might’ve found it contagious. “Çetin. Che-tin..” He didn’t exactly deserve her crabby response, but it wasn’t exactly unfounded given how all consuming the burn was. There were people that needed help more than she did, and she’d been happy to wait.. but it felt like the more time that went on, the more it stung. “But um,” she bit her lip, furrowing her brow as she breathed through the burn. “Close enough. Thank you. —Are you the doctor?” God, she’d really stepped her foot in it if he was.