Melisa Aslı Pamuk as Sibel Koraslan

perhaps it was foolish to ask — pointless to dive deeper into the differences between their approach . @theanguish speaks to ruthless strength and unyielding devotion , fury and fire melted into the hot lava of her hungered strategies , while sebastian mentions his reluctance to be aggressive , his dislike of more forward techniques . i play dirty , yasam tells him , her tone straightforward and collected . that's how you defeat a stronger opponent . you strike from behind . all sebastian can do is readjust in his chair ( one leg draped over the knee of the other ) and thumb the hem of the armrest , absentminded and distractable . ❝ i don't think you necessarily need to play dirty in order to . . . like you put it , DEFEAT A STRONGER OPPONENT . you just need to know their routine . find them at their most vulnerable , and carry it out from a distance . no dirty hands or bloody knuckles required . one shot . clean and simple . ❞ he eyes the way yasam sits in the chair across from him , how she positions her body like a silent threat . they disagree on plenty of things , but perhaps this is the one that will break them at last . ❝ i like to keep my targets as far away from me as possible , so that there's no chance in hell i can fail , or i don't run the risk of injury . you , ❞ he goes on , gesturing to her , ❝ you might prefer the kind of attack that gets you right in their face . that's your preference . BUT THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY TECHNIQUE , you know . ❞ a faint smile . ❝ maybe you should try it some time . ❞

            it was difficult to miss that foundations were assembled with comparable structures . although where his held a strength in morals , hers eroded due to NOXIOUS teachings . psychological frameworks had been 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 desired for destruction , visage resembled clay rather than a woman ; a tool pliable to whomever's whims took precedent . her interaction with sebastian proved ways in which she'd been taught were not universal . accepting impersonal preference s̳u̳n̳k̳ ̳ ̳ ̳b̳i̳t̳t̳e̳r̳l̳y̳ ̳ ̳ ̳d̳o̳w̳n̳ ̳ ̳ ̳h̳e̳r̳ ̳ ̳ ̳g̳u̳l̳l̳e̳t̳ , the distance was as dispassionate as using a long range firearm . posture continues to stay rigid , the cool steel rod in spine unmoving despite clear disagreement . everything about his comment ɪɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴ ᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅᴏᴍ , washing over marred silhouette , the paladin preferring using techniques outside the norm . surveillance had a time & place , there was no dispute over that , but getting hands dirty WAS HALF THE FUN . biology begged to be satiated by adrenaline & lifeblood , her 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 lay in those savage times . getting lost in the midst of violent impulses , carmine sprayed across tawny facade , breath heaving in & out of lungs . she questioned how something that 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 could be willingly disbanded by others . ❝  do you hate your job ?  ❞ catlike tilt of head radiates an eery scene . it had to be the reason his preference painted such a lacklustre picture . ❝  i ask because your detachment suggests dissatisfaction .  ❞ social cues were still encased with a clinical serrated edge , perhaps more 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 . ❝  i understand this is your way of making conversation LIGHTHEARTED . i won't try your way but do know i understand . ❞

❛ ❛ what are you still doing up ? ❜ ❜

𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐬 , mandible setting until they're washed in milky hues & she is able to register facial structure . ❝  appears we are in a similar predicament .  ❞ she muses almost robotically , forging bonds remained a DIFFICULT TASK . beyond camaraderie in battle yasam was instructed to ᴅᴇɴʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ , attachments ensured weakness & she was anything but weak . ❝  i don't sleep .  ❞ it sounds simple enough ; 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 , unaware that it was in fact teetering on the edge of social absurdity .

❝ whatever you say, 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢. ❞ amorphous hand slices through air, cigarette plummets underneath combat boot. petty diatribes witnessed before, yet doesn't stop the 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚗 coy on lips. ❝ one night . . . ❞ hands slither back into slacks' pockets, always a 𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒕 in the eye ⎯⎯ sign of a fool. ❝ & then you can scurry on over back to that 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 of yours, yeah ? ❞

the 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 responds before speech can , clenched fist sails through muggy air blanketing them , colliding forcefully with angular jaw . pain doesn't register , instead , growing uoıʇɐxǝʌ flexes forgotten muscles , ꜱᴘᴀꜱᴍɪɴɢ to form secondary sentence , ❝  count yourself 𝙻𝚄𝙲𝙺𝚈 i'm here .  ❞

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