#char dev

Made a new rpgmaker jam game ... Thousands will play

Olivier Fontaine's Apartment ; South Ken.

Notes: Rented.

Location: South Kensington.

Yes, to the Dress.

This was not how Emine pictured choosing her dress would be like. She wanted her close friends and family there with her, but with how everything was falling apart, the safe option was her mother -- the one that took her in when she didn't want to go back to Turkey.

She had pushed the doubting thoughts to the back of her mind, trying on what felt like every dress in the shop. None felt right. They all felt like another dress that could be worn for any occasion. There was also the modesty of being covered, something her mom kept reminding her when she came out in another dress.

"Maybe I won't find it," she sighed, sitting down beside her on the small couch, resting her forehead against her shoulder. "I'm tired." A sadness lies in her amber hues.

"One more," the older woman pats the top of her head and she nods, sliding off the couch, the last dress for the day brought to the changing room for her to try on. The second her hues landed on the dress, there was something about it that called to her.

Was this the one?

She could feel the anticipation build in the pit of her stomach when the woman from the shop helped her into it, using a bunch of clips to hold it in place. Tears started to swell in the corners of her eyes and she knew that this was the one.

The petite Turk made her way out of the room, a bright smile on her face when she saw her mom take one look at her, and tears formed in her eyes as well.

"Çok güzel görünüyorsun kızım." She whispers, getting up to place her hands on her cheeks.

"This is the one, mom." She smiles brightly, a veil placed on her head, turning to look at herself in the mirror.

Early Arrival

July 23, 2023

Emilia had been pandering around her home, this sudden need to make sure everything was in order before Bean arrived. There was still eight weeks before her due date, but excitement started to draw closer. The nursery was done, decorated in soft pinks and purples, a classy taste but definitely designed for a princess.

Fingers curl around the wood of the crib, emerald hues glancing down to the bedding and the little pink poodle stuffy pushed up in the corner against one of the pillows. She took a moment to let it all sink in. This wasn’t how she pictured her life would be like when she was bringing a little one into this world, but all she could do was to make the best of what was being thrown at her. At least her mom would be here soon, a few more weeks, and she would have her to lean on before the birth and after. 

“Emilia.” She hears her name being called out, turning her body to look out the door, the voice coming from one of her bodyguards. “We should be going.” He was right, there were things to do at the shelter. 

“C–” Her words cut off, hues instantly casting down at the ground, looking at the puddle of water between her legs on the rug, feeling like she had peed herself. “Marco,” She cries out, a hand coming up to rest on her belly, a sharp pain in her lower stomach. 

Maksim Kurylenko's apartment.

Location: Hackney, London.

Kathryn's Second Apartment.

Till Death Do Us Part Part II - Oct 4th, 2023 tw: mention of death

It had been a few days since the shooting at the bakery. News spread quickly around the borough, shocking the community. Mrs. Aksoy had left herself a legacy and Mr. Demirci had been known for his excellent talent when it came to suits. It left people uncertain on what their fate would be in their own home. Ayda tried not to think about it, it left her feeling the weight that was now placed heavier on her shoulders. She wanted to protect them, but it was growing harder to find the confidence that she could. 

Ayda stood outside of the bakery for ten minutes replaying what happened that night. She had been asked to come over to the Aksoy’s. The window had already been fixed, but nothing had been touched on the inside. Glass still scattered across the floor, tables and chairs turned and the faint mark of where the bleach was placed to cover up the blood. Taking a deep breath she walked around to the side to where the other entrance to the flat was, stepping inside, locking the door behind her, making her way up the stairs.

“Hello,” she calls out softly, eyes meeting ones she hadn’t seen in years. “Kemal?” She knew he would come. It was their mom that passed. That meant Ela would be here too. “Is your sister here?” She asks, her eyes falling on Mr. Aksoy sitting beside him. 

“I got in late last night.” He gives her a faint smile, a hand gesturing to the lounge chair beside them.“Ela is here, she went out to get some food.” Ayda returns the smile, taking a seat. 

That is when she notices the box sitting on Mr. Aksoy’s lap, a shoe box and it catches her attention. Careful hues study the older male, taking in his features. He looks paler, a tiredness in his gaze and his shoulders sink. Skinnier, he looks much skinnier than the last time she saw him which wasn’t long ago. 

“I’m sorry you are here for this.” There would always be a part of her that would feel it was her fault. She should have never put that gathering together. It was a lesson she should have learnt from the engagement party failure, unable to look him in the eyes. 

“Not how I wanted to come visit, but we will manage to get through this.” There was a defeatness to his tone and it made her worry.  Her hands fold on her lap. 

“Let me get to the point,” Mr. Aksoy says, a weakness to his tone. His hand trembles while taking the envelope from the top of the box. “This is the deed to the building, along with the rights to the bakery.” 

A dumbfoundedness seeps into her features. “That should go to Kemal or Ela.” She quickly looks at Kemal, seeing him shake his head at her. 

“We don’t want it.” He speaks before his father could. “Neither of us have the desire to run the bakery and we don’t want it sold. Ma always talked about how much it meant to you. We want someone to keep it running, in her honour.” He blinks back the tears. 

“Oh,” Ayda couldn’t hide her emotions, a hand coming up to wipe the tears, the other reaching forward to take the envelope from him. “I don’t know what to say.” There is a small pause whilst she looks it over, not opening it. “Thank you.” 

“This is for you.” He then holds out the shoe box with her name on top of it. “All the kids have one, she thought of you as her own. Things she kept over the years.” Ayda takes the box, holding both on her lap. This was something she would look at later when she was alone. 

“I miss her,” her voice cracks, fingers curling around the box. 

“We all do.” Kemal adds, a hand reaching out to take hers, giving a small squeeze before pulling back. “She always talked highly of you. You meant a lot to her. I want to thank you for being there for her when we were gone.” His words touched her more than she thought they would. 

“I’m stopping with treatment.” Mr. Aksoy states, both of them looking at him stunned. 

“Pa, you can’t.” Kemal interjects, his attention turning to his dad. 

Concepts of a cowboy oc for a story I’m writing w some friends. This mf is insane and unwell. Violent, no moral compass.