what i want

“ and what do you think is best for this family ? ” he asked, question both rhetorical and open, clear that whatever she would say wouldn’t be considered right in his mind, but still optionally open. what was best for the family was strength, strategy. he possessed it. but he did not possess it in the manner best suited for the business. azra, on the other hand, did not hesitate in her ruthlessness. an allegiance with her was an allegiance with the family. and what a shame it was that the two sisters were too caught up to see that. “ this child will be raised an arslan. if it does not bear the same last name, then it will. ” he understood. the child was a bargaining chip. it would bear the athanas name until the attention of the athanas family had turned away. then, if she had the sense he believed her to have, it would bear theirs. an athanas could not be the head of the family. and even she would die one day.

they had been doomed since birth, but the collapse they would all bear, in whatever form it chose to take, was hastened the moment aydin was slain. the only son did not ask for his legacy. the eldest daughter was not allowed power. the youngest was to be left out of the inherited world entirely. the young boy, distanced only by a lack of shared genetics, knew little about their world. demir did not long for his family to crumble as they had – for cecilya to hate him, for maximus to resent him for reasons he did not fully comprehend – but it was one of the many inevitabilities. and he had been holding his cards far closer to his chest. if he could not trust the young boy he had considered a brother, who could he ? cecilya and her rising anger no longer made the list.

humming in response, it was nothing unexpected. he was far more curious over how she had found the child, where it had been, than he was concerned. azra and cecilya could duel over whose son, on the chance that azra’s child would be a son, would take his place amongst themselves. of course, if he found a woman to bear a son for him, all of their bets would be lost, but it was not of current concern. he had time. “ your child is just as much an arslan as azra’s will be. ” yes, in spite of their family’s immorality, there still would never be a wholly arslan child. “ but you must recall that our father’s partners witnessed his sale. he was considered unwanted and they will remember that, just as they will remember vidal’s last name if azra’s child so happens to bear it upon its birth. ”

.

"that’s where you’re wrong,” cecilya said suddenly and firmly, her face alight with sheer joy about the final card she had to play. or maybe the second to final. her father always told her that the best cards that you had up your sleeve where the ones you never play.

“there is an arslan that will be purer than both my first son and azra’s possible future son. one that is made of my blood and that of someone bearing the same name, making him a legitimate heir to the bloodline untainted by anything else,” cecilya tells demir, a smile on her lips. her desire for a baby and everything it had led her to had given her something that she now realised was more valuable to her family than she was; something they would never be able to edit out. “i’m pregnant and the baby is max’s, meaning it will be born into this family with a single last name and single bloodline really. you always talk of how it is men that should have a seat at the table and yet you ignore that you already have a brother by law and by name. blood is thicker than water but water is far more refreshing.”

DHTASK ;; MY FAVOURITE THINGS ;; 

“ the whole world does not matter to us, ” he hummed. they were the iron fist of a region. there were times in which spanning was necessary, in which spanning was advantageous, in which spanning was to be desired, but they did not count on the world. they were immortal in the hearts of the few. perhaps they would exist in the pages of history one day. but organized crime was no longer romantic, no longer lusted after by the public. until the day the legacy died, immortality in the hearts of the few was better. safer. and more intriguing. “ our ‘reckoning’ will come only when our bloodline is lost. azra is already carrying it on. ” and if the child was not male, then not all was lost. he had time. she had time. 

he possessed no worry over the new chief. it did not take bribing the chief. the chief needed the force, the chief did not work on his own. the moles that existed within the walls of the vertmoor police department would remain. the first chief had had no such affiliation with the arslan’s affairs. he hadn’t the time to say it, but perhaps it was better if cecilya remained in the dark. it became increasingly apparent that the more bad she saw in azra and himself, the more trust she put in others. the more trust she put in anyone who did not care for them.

part of demir’s unspoken training, molding, was thinking, strategizing. perhaps he had begun to take it to lengths his father had not, time consuming him, but it aided greatly in the long-run decisions. “ azra is an intelligent woman, ” he remarked, “ which is why she will stay in her place and i will stay in mine. ” he would not try to defend himself. he would not try to say he was the true head any longer. he had accepted his fate. and he had planned around it. all he would do was offer a vague answer to the sister he was beginning to trust less than the power-hungry black widow. it was known that the closest taste azra could have to utter power would come in the form of continuing to use his face, thus keeping the both of them in the position they were meant to play. if she were to step forward, it would be murder-suicide for the family name. he would not be in power. she would not be in power. but, the more cecilya berated and distanced herself from him, the less he was willing to divulge. “ we know where we belong. ” after a second of a beat, barely enough time for her to get any word in edge-wise, he asked the one thing he had left to know: “ do you ? ”

.

"you make it clear that your allegiance is more with her than what is for the best of this family,” cecilya remarks, her tone scornful. she looks at him now and is beginning to think he is just the man who must be squashed by this life or her sister, a barrier in the way. azra will never be happy with her silent place, she is a woman who demands attention and power, not a lifetime in the shadows of a brother who’s place she could have if only she were born different. “you pray for a boy to carry on this bloodline and blood lust, but you rely on the fact that this child will ever be an arslan. an athanas doesn’t bare the same burden that you claim to.”

cecilya looks at him long and hard, she waits for him to deserve a final blow, a final card. she knows now her brother will never react, that he has maybe never loved her at all. all the time and energy she spent loving and caring for her siblings alike was a waste, they don’t care about her any more than her father ever did. they would sooner see her suffering and in pain than to ever life a finger to relieve her and now she wants to see them suffer; she wants to see demir admit that he is weak like a puppet. played by strings he’s never controlled. she wants to see azra suffer and cry and for once in her life know how it feels to have all you love torn from you. she wants to see both their faces as their empire crashes to ground and falls into a million pieces along with every piece of their importance.

“there’s but one series of events that you didn’t account for. your heir is already born and he is my son. he is an arslan and therefore he is your successor,” cecilya points out, her small features sharp and full of genuinity. there is no lie. it is true. she has tracked down the baby that was torn from her and now she knows for sure that she will use the resources at hand to get him back. he is the key to this family, he will be the successor of a disgusting empire and she will spit in the wounds of anyone who argues with her. “our father was a terrible man but his ego really did live on without him, he could never part with a last name when it belonged to a little boy, demir. even if he didn’t desire me to ever be a mother. i think i’m beginning to discover right where i belong.”

It was because of what you told me and what I told them. The confusion that Cecilya’s confession brings is heavily entwined with guilt, a sick feeling rising in her stomach. It’s the same feeling that had arisen when that little girl had asked if she was going to tell the man where she was hiding again; when she had suggested that perhaps Belva had been partly responsible for something that sounded rather sinister. “I didn’t  I didn’t know. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt,” she replies quietly, in a bit of a daze. And perhaps it was the wrong thing to focus on at that moment, but the words had fallen from her lips nonetheless. She looks up at Cecilya, blinking a few times as she tries to make sense of the ugly picture her delicate friend is painting.

“What  I don’t understand, why did she  why did she do that? I thought he was just away,” she trails off, trying to wrap her head around it all. As Vidal’s dirty secrets came to light, she had perhaps suspected that Mr. Arslan was somehow involved, but why would his own daughter kill him? When they’d found the body, Belva had refused to look, and yet Cecilya has put a ghastly enough image in her head. One hand comes to rest against her stomach, a wave of nausea rolling through her. “They could have killed him. He shouldn’t have taken the body, but he  he doesn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.” The thought of being trapped in a house set aflame was horrifying, and she winces, gaze shifting to the charred remains of what once must have been a rather cozy home. All of that lost, set ablaze by the siblings of her friend. “I never liked Azra, but I didn’t think she’d hurt people. And your brother, I mean,” she trails off, trying to imagine the man who had so carefully handled her mother’s photo album arranging for a man’s house to be burnt down. 

-

"she would hurt people, it’s a family trait. for the both of them. for our father. she might even say that’s why she killed him but it was all about power and making sure he knew that she was the one who was in charged. and demir... i don’t know much about him anymore,” she admits. once when she was a little girl she had seen her siblings in a different light. she had seen so many things through love heart rose glasses that showed everyone from their best side, even her mother and father. adulthood was approaching and suddenly things were a lot different, everything was contorted and twisted and ugly. it was a world that she did not like and wasn’t built for but she found herself adapting rather than crumbling. 

“it’s not your fault, it’s not even mine,” she says, more of a sigh but meant all the same. her hazel eyes never leave the blonde haired girl in front of her. “my siblings will put self preservation above anything else. it doesn’t matter what the collateral damage is. that’s why azra shouldn’t be having this baby, that’s why none of what’s happened should of happened at all.”

erebus almost laughed at that comment, a small quirk on his lips as he held back the smile. so, it seemed like his family wasn’t the only one that was dysfunctional. was this town cursed or was it a requirement to live there? town of rich people seeking families that don’t know how to function like a normal family. apply now. He mused, wondering if there was someone else like himself out there, living in a world they didn’t know how to survive.

“bringing a family together while simultaneously pulling people apart. sounds like some sort of skill set,” he said, remembering parts of the video he had seen. “friends? don’t you think you are moving a tad too fast. lets leave it at family, friends is way too intimate for me.”

-

“i think i’d rather have a friend. i already have enough family members that i’m not friends with, i don’t think i need another,” she says, no punches or secrets held back. she is sick and tired of so many aspects of her life and suddenly the union between her and family and this one is less desirable. her only dream is shattered. “it’s funny, for so long i dreamed about being an athanas and marrying july so we could unite two powerful families but it turns out that both of them are falling to pieces anyway. where’s the power in that?”

… .

he allowed her to rant. he allowed her to berate him. he allowed her to attempt to shake him to his very core. but she still knew so little. not only about the business, but about him. he could not blame her. he could not expect she know every little intricacy of the inner mechanisms or of his own being. but she was projecting nothing new. nothing that stuck. nothing that made him rethink himself. nothing that made him rethink the business. nothing that made him feel as though anybody involved in the fire was in any danger. because they knew. and who would they rather arrest: a man who tried to expose all they could not, or a group who left them alone as long as their payments were met ? they had eyes inside. neek silva did not. cecilya did not seem to understand that. and that was yet another reason…

he was never meant to take charge of his own life. that was the point of it all. the point that cecilya missed. his father’s life was passed down to him. like his father’s ghosts, his father’s spirits, his father’s life was now his. he sat at the head of the table because his father wanted him to. he nodded because his father wanted him to. never had he had the chance to consider a life outside of the arslan family business. azra had made her own living within it. azra had done so by her own volition. by choice, she had inherited unspeakable crimes. by force, demir had inherited many. sometimes he liked it. sometimes he loathed it. his father: a role model, but how good ?

as cecilya finally wrapped up her rant with the outrageous question ( although he would not be shocked if it was an action azra would consider ), he huffed. it was not out of aggravation. it was not out of nerves. it was out of the simple matter at hand that she was so certain of it all, but what she was so certain of were falsehoods. “ how do you believe we’ve gotten away with what we’ve done for so long ? ” he asked, unsure of whether or not it was rhetorical. “ do you not believe somebody has attempted to take us down before ? we are not a limited organization. many are already aware. ”

.

“you two may matter in this crooked town but there’s a whole world out there where you don’t at all,” cecilya exhaled in response to her brothers point. maybe she had not known exactly how deep the connections ran but she had an advantage and she knew it, somewhere out there in the world there was someone waiting for a way to take down the arslans and she would find them and hand it over. she would shove the knife through her siblings beating heart knowing they would never hesitate to do the same to her. demir may have had no real backbone but she knew azra wouldn’t think twice, “don’t yous ee that our reckoning is coming?”

she was shallow. she was self centred. her world had always been small and full of idle gossip but for once it tasted so sweet to be the one that was meant to know nothing, “i’ve heard a rumour that a new police chief might be coming to this little town of ours. how will you get to him? bribery, sex, maybe set his house on fire?”

she crossed her arms and didn’t wait for an answer. they had schemes but she did too and she knew above all, the one thing that she had learned locked in the wrong office cabinets and hiding under desks throughout her childhood; no woman was welcome at the table. no matter how ruthless, allowing a woman to head your family would only lead to shame and being discounted. no business partner had ever wanted to deal with a woman, they were just pretty possessions like herself and her mother. if they knew that azra was the one leading them into the dark then they would never agree, “what if all our partners were to know the truth? what if they were to know that the real face of the arslan family was azra arslan, a sexual schemer who got herself tied up with an athanas bastard? what a crossroads that would be. how many of them do you think would still be on your side? no longer a lion but just a sheep, unfit for any kind of power or control.”

… .

“ he has no truth to offer. ” their business was one of strategy, not of certainty. everything they could think through, they did. however, there were always some facets that were left to chance. chance backed by strategy, yes, but not chance backed by certainty. and that was nothing but another reason why the doors were shut on cecilya. he would have no truth to offer. he would have stories, but those stories would need explanation. if the body had somehow been preserved, silva would still have to answer the question of why he had it in the first place. for all they could not guarantee, they were able to at least ensure that silva would be put in an undesirable position. “ electrical fires have never sparked inspiration, only grief. ”

*

"but i do, demir,” she says, her eyes directed on her brother who stands there in all his glory. he is merely a shadow of some devilish womanly shape. he thinks her weak, stupid, that she knows nothing. even azra has never considered that she may one day grow tired and sick of the way they behave. her eyes are hard (they have never been this way before) when she looks at him, she feels her fathers blood in her veins pumping away. what a fool he would think demir was if he could see him now. what an evil man he was and how his daughter follows in his footsteps but in aydin’s eyes, it was only a son who sat at the head of the table. “i know the truth and if you dare to frame neek silva as our father’s murderer then i will tell it to the world.”

her gaze doesn’t waver, she watches him, “you are not the head of this family, you aren’t really in charge of anything. maybe you’re the stupid one,” she points out thinking about it. there is no way that this was the best plan that could of been made, it’s simply the most swift and that reeks of her siblings thoughts. they think that the fastest solution is the best. she is sick of them. she is sick of this. “aren’t you meant to be a man and take charge of your own life? aren’t you meant to be our father’s predecessor?” 

she doesn’t allow time for an answer to that question, she turns away but she is looking at him over her shoulder with the smallest smile on her face although her eyes are dead. fury burns beneath her skin, she hates him and she hates azra more than she has ever hated anything. she means it when she speaks, “if you continue to take whatever action you see fit led by our sister then i will make sure that the truth comes out and when the authorities come and ask me about it then i will cry an ocean for a family who are dead to me. i will break my fragile little heart right in front of them and speak of how very scared i was and how you both conspired against neek silva to hide your guilt. i will destroy this family, this business and the both of you and i will have a smile on my face as soon as i’m alone again,” she paused, her lips closed. the smallest edge of a smile pulled at her lip, “you can tell azra what i said. what are you going to do to control me? kill me? hurt me? like father, like son. or daughter.”

♥

Until recently, Cecilya and Belva were very much what could be considered fair weather friends. Although they had been familiar to each other since childhood, their conversations were always simple and easy, about things that many would consider to be lacking substance. However, as was the case in so many ways, Vidal’s death had brought with it a new side to their friendship. There had been July’s disappearance, and then Belva having to break the news to Cecilya that her own father was dead. Those were hardly conversations that the two of them could have over low calorie sandwiches and fizzy water. 

Belva’s sculpted brows pull together in confusion, her full lips pursed as she tries to understand why Cecilya looks so upset. Had she been wrong and Neek had been hurt? Were they close and she just didn’t know it? “I won’t hate you,” she promises, and there’s nothing but honesty in her tone. Although Belva was easily hurt and had a few grudges that she kept like little pets, until recently, hatred wasn’t an emotion she was truly capable of. Even now, the only person who perhaps had earned that response was a man dead and (well, at one point) buried. 

*

"this wasn’t an accident. what happened here was because of my father, it was because of my family belva. it was because of what you told me and what i told them,” she explained, her hand wavering and then dropping limp back to her side. was she telling belva this out of guilt or was it because of the arslan DNA that was running through her veins? every word was laced with secret spite against her siblings who had taken yet another set of actions without her that were dangerous and obvious in her opinion. belva would never understand, their families had been through more toil than most but they were not the same. 

“i pretended i didn’t know that my father was dead but i already did. we all did. azra killed him. she drove that knife through his chest and never stopped,” she thought of the crime and that evening. she thought of the cover up and the blood splatters and her mothers ghastly face that was still full of sorrow and pity as the man that had tormented her slid away for good, never to lay a hand on her again. her mother had been dead first, really. she wasn’t even here now as she sat emptily staring. cecilya wondered when she would find her dead and whether her siblings would bat an eyelid if she were. “this was azra and demir. they wanted to be sure that it was covered up. they wanted to make sure neek would never know the truth never mind speak it. they did this.”

“Sucks to be him, huh?” Irma asked casually, her eyes mismatching her tone of voice as they coldly studied the girl standing there. This was just another thing in a series of messy events that kept distracting the police, those useless pieces of garbage, and most importantly, Irma herself. She needed to focus on finding out just what exactly was going on in Vertmoor and who was the cause of it all, but the more she tried to uncover, the messier things seemed to get externally. Every time she thought of a new theory a different disaster or terrible secret would pop up and mess with her thoughts. It didn’t help that she’d been spending most nights and almost every day now either out and about, looking for someone to fight, or locked away at the gym, the bruises on her fingers the only proof of how hard she was working the punching bag. “I wonder if they were able to salvage anything at all…” She murmured, both to the girl beside her, and to herself. 

*

the baby of the family, ever protected by a cloak as thin as a veil that was intended to stop her from seeing the monstrosities on the other side. how they didn’t know she had seen monsters before, she didn’t know. irma’s words made her feel a little queasy but somehow she knew already that no smart person would hide a dead body in their house. she wouldn’t want to salvage it even if it was. “yes,” she said, her hand pressed gently against her stomach as it turned upside down, eyes darting back over to the beautiful woman beside her that she knew. she looked at her and wondered if she understood how dark the days were becoming and how hard it was to see the light at the end of the tunnel. the whole world was changing in front of their eyes and vertmoor itself was falling to pieces the way she saw it. had she ever imagined a life beyond reputation and self importance? it pinched at her heart. “at least he wasn’t inside. i don’t think i could cope with anymore death around here.”

“Why do you always think the worst of me?” Azra asked, trying her best not to roll her eyes at her younger sister, “Nobody got hurt, so that question isn’t even relevant. And besides, he brought all this on himself by stealing the body in the first place.”

*

she wouldn’t put it past her sister to have thought neek was inside the building burning to death if it made her life easier. why did she always think the worst of her? she was the WORST. weren’t her siblings even worried that the body could be stolen? why had it been there in the first place? how did burning down a house help? cecilya didn’t understand many things in life but her understanding of her siblings plots were beyond even that. imagination could not bring her to feast upon the thoughts that they had. she tilted her head looking at her sister who must have thought she was god’s gift to man these days. “and how exactly does burning down his house make him more agreeable if the body wasn’t inside, azra?”

Belva didn’t tend to read the news. However, when she was in it, she couldn’t help but to look, which was how she’d found herself skimming through the local newspaper. Her friends and family seemed to be at the center of it, a full feature of herself on the second page, and she can’t help but to be annoyed that their lives were being broadcast to strangers; Chandler, brought in on next to nothing, but painted as some sort of villain. She’s just about to throw the paper aside when HARD WORK: GONE UP IN FLAMES catches her gaze, and as she reads what has happened, her mouth falls open. Almost before she can consciously decide to do so, Belva’s up and dressed in yoga pants and one of Ace’s old hoodies. 

It takes her a bit to find the house, the police line giving it away, and her blue eyes are wide as she takes it in. What had caused such destruction? Could it have been an accident, something that could have happened in any other town, or was it something sinister that Vertmoor was so often responsible for? As she spots a familiar face, the blonde jogs over, hood up to divert prying eyes. “Cecilya,” she calls rather quietly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on her friend’s arm. “Do they have any idea how it happened?” At least Neek was safe, or as far as she’d heard, anyway. She was still waiting for a response back from Blue about her best friend’s brother.

*

she didn’t know if vertmoor police knew how it had started but she definitely had a few ideas. it seemed like her siblings were up to no good wherever she looked but this time it was definitely too far. they had thought their reputation more important than the life of a virtual stranger and that made cecilya’s skin crawl. did she want to be a part of this family anymore? did they consider her as a part of it anyway? 

“i have an idea of how it happened, but if i tell you then you have to promise not to hate me,” cecilya told her, her voice gentle and desperate although in truth she was partly responsible for the events, so was belva. she had passed on information she shouldn’t have but she hadn’t known the true value of it or that it would lead to something so awful. yes, neek had not been hurt but that didn’t mean more wasn’t to come. where was the line drawn in the sand? what did neek silva even want? only bluebell knew him well enough to determine that, it’s not like the arslans had asked. “do you promise?”

the power neek silva possessed transcended the power of the police force. neek silva was still respected by the people. neek silva had no reason not to expose the arslans. while there were people within the force who had direct ties to them, silva pledged no loyalty.  demir had not gotten his hands dirty. azra had not gotten her hands dirty. they simply spoke it into action. and he felt his father’s hands on his shoulders as he watched the house become nothing but ash. a melancholy pride. he did not have to turn. he knew cecilya was near, for the melancholy of the pride deepened. and he knew she was not a fool. she was not ready for the business. nobody should be ready for the business. but that did not make her a fool. still, a direct confession, even to his own sister… “ everything is so very fleeting. ”

"including the power that you find yourself so entitled to.”

cecilya was tired of her siblings endless scheming and the crimes they committed without so much as a thought to others. no, she may not have been a problem solver herself but setting a mans house on fire seemed like it was crossing a line. had they even known if the body was in there or not? it seemed to her that they might have been smart but in that moment she was the one in possession of all the common sense. “surely having your house set up in flames would only make a man like that more intent on exposing the truth. did you ever think of that?”

The female appeared from the stairs, startling the male slightly. The sudden appearance threw Max for a moment, stumbling in his determination. He’d come to her for a purpose and she had startled him, distracting him for a moment with talking about things he’d pushed into the back of his mind for him to deal with later. He was about to object and explain this when she spoke again. Her words about him hating this place pulled him back to reality and his purpose. His expression hardened, his eyes narrowing at her as he mulled over the words he wanted to use. Hoping to sound as diplomatic as possible, unfortunately he could feel his hurt emotions leaking into each syllable he uttered.

“I wouldn’t have come back at all, if I didn’t have to. Even weeks ago when Vidal died. I’ve never wanted to be in a place less in my life but I’ve always felt obligated and guilt ridden to show up and be supportive.” His tone was darkening as every negative emotion began to flow from his lips. “Not by you, of course – never by you.” His hurt reflecting in his own. He had to keep reminding himself that she’d just lost her father and he shouldn’t be too harsh. But he’d come this far and opened up the can of worms, he guessed there was no going back. “If you weren’t possibly carrying my child I wouldn’t have come back at all this time. Lets be honest, Aydin and I were never fond of one another. We weren’t close. I came back for you. It’s always been you, Cecilya. How have you never seen that?” His hurt and annoyance was overwhelming him again. Max shook his head, breaking his gaze from her face as he slipped his palms into the depths of his pockets. The male swayed awkwardly on the spot waiting for some sort of response from the other.

*

admittedly, cecilya was not a cruel person. she had even found herself quite gentle and sweet when the situation called, when the athanas children had first lost their father and when december has rose from the dead she had comforted them the best way she could. she had never asked max to return, she had reached out to talk once but she had been struggling with her siblings and knew there was nobody else who would understand. even now she began to wonder if even he understood what was really going on. “you didn’t have to come back, i didn’t ask you to. you can be free of all of us if that’s what you want.

she didn’t understand what he said next, it went right over her head. in all honesty she had rarely viewed others as autonomous beings and the closest she had ever came to feelings was wanting things for superficial reasons. it’s always been you, cecilya. it sounded like a line from a romance movie she would drag her friends to see at the movies or a line from a book that she’d never finish but she didn’t understand it. she didn’t understand it because it was him. she imagined those words had came from july and she would of been filled with glee, not because she loved him back but because it meant she would finally mean something in this fucked up family of hers. she would finally be free to begin her own life. “do you have jet lag? do you need to lay down?” she demanded, her voice raising in pitch as she stared at him through pretty brown eyes, “nothing you’re saying is making any sense right now.”

It was the perfect plan. 

The fire would get rid of the evidence, get rid of the body, and make it so nobody would find it - or at least if they did, it would be hard to identify. And even harder to tell how he had died (Azra couldn’t imagine that the stab wounds would still be obvious - especially to this police department). Not to mention, should he be found, Neek had to explain why there was a dead body in his basement - which didn’t sound like it was going to be easy. Which gave him two options: explain that he stole it, which didn’t help his case much, or take the fall for her father’s death. And even if he did tell the truth, it was the Foundation that seemed to be the ones in possession of it, which still took the blame off the family. There wasn’t any evidence that could link back to them, and their current problem, now was solved. “Tragic, isn’t it?” Azra whispered to her sister, though really the word that she wanted to use was beautiful. There was something amazingly beautiful at how cleansing yet destructive fire was. 

she turned to face azra and the sight almost sold the breath from her chest, she was not afraid of her siblings but she was coming to realise how ruthless they could be. her fathers crimes had felt so far away from her but with each twist of events they were coming up on her. she had never really understood it all, naivety had been her best friend. she thought of lipstick, shoes and vacation photos for her instagram. she was no fire starter but there was a fire starting inside of her. 

“did you even care if somebody got hurt?” cecilya asked, her eyebrows raising. she was afraid she already knew the answer but she still had to ask.