ivory & ash

Wilder had been enjoying his night, mainly because he spent practically the whole thing with Leyla. After their walk on the beach, he was feeling a bit like a new man. For a few weeks there, he was starting to slip, but it was Leyla who brought him back. Spotting Guilianna, Wilder smiled as he came up from behind. "I'm just upset I'm not the one who got to do it." He said with a smile as he gave her a nudge. "How is my lil Guigu doing?" Grayson liked the little nicknames he had for his "cousins", he never really knew what to call them because they weren't family, but they were family. "Trust me, you do not want to know." He said as he shook his head, "These things get wild at night, especially as people start drinking more, mixing it with drugs. People get a little more confident once they start." He gave her a knocking look, "Just avoid the bathrooms and any quiet corners once the sunsets if ya get what I mean."

she groaned the second she heard the nickname. “absolutely not.” without even looking at him yet, she already knew who it was. “one day i’ll have you arrested for calling me that in public.” the threat lacked any real conviction. mostly because it had been years and grayson continued surviving despite repeatedly testing her patience. finally, she glanced over, his comment about the lemonade incident earning a soft huff of laughter. “see, that's why nobody lets you near local government.” she gestured vaguely toward the council member still mourning his shirt. “most people see a civic leader. you see a moving target.” at his warning, however, her brows lifted slightly. “wilder.” the look she gave him was immediate. judgmental. deeply judgmental. “that was unfortunately specific.” she took a sip of her drink. “and now i have several follow-up questions i don't want answered.” a beat. “which means i’m going to blame you for making me imagine them.” the festival lights reflected gold against her jewelry as she studied him for a moment. really studied him. and unlike the tension she'd seen hanging around half the city lately, grayson looked… better. lighter. the difference was subtle, but it was there. giuliana noticed things. it was both a skill and a disease. “you seem suspiciously cheerful tonight.” her eyes narrowed slightly. “which usually means one of two things.” another sip. “either you've committed a felony...” a pause. “or a woman is involved.” the corner of her mouth curved. “and given that you're currently standing upright at a community event instead of causing problems somewhere, i’m leaning toward the second option.”

location: rift valley festival

the applause followed him long after he stepped away from the podium. of course it did. graham pierce had mastered the art of making people feel reassured while standing in the middle of a disaster. it was probably why he'd survived politics this long. smile at the crowd. tell them everything would be alright. make them laugh just enough to forget they were afraid. for a little while, it even worked. giuliana stood near one of the vendor stalls, a paper cup of espresso in hand despite the summer heat. festival lights hung overhead in warm strands of gold, children ran between booths with painted faces, music drifted somewhere. and beneath all of it sat the uncomfortable reality that everyone here had received the same letter. everyone was pretending not to think about it. which meant everyone was thinking about it. she waited until graham finished greeting a small cluster of residents before stepping into his path with the ease of someone who had never once doubted she belonged wherever she decided to stand. “mayor.” the title rolled off her tongue smoothly. polite. dangerously polite. her gaze drifted briefly toward the crowd still lingering around the stage before returning to him. “that was a very nice speech.” a beat. “the joke was particularly inspired. i watched three people immediately stop looking terrified.” the corner of her mouth curved faintly. giuliana wasn't smiling. not really. “i almost believed it myself.” around them, laughter carried from somewhere near the food trucks. a band started tuning instruments near the main stage. the festival continued exactly as intended. normalcy performed at gunpoint. she took a slow sip of her espresso. "you know," she continued lightly, “if i didn't know better, i'd think you were trying to convince the city everything was under control.” her gaze settled on him then. steady. observant. the kind of look that understood exactly how exhausting leadership became when panic started spreading faster than facts. “tell me honestly, though.” quieter now. just enough that the question felt private despite the crowd around them. "how worried are you?"

giu’s mouth curved faintly at the korean greeting. not warmth. amusement. “well,” she replied smoothly, “that is considerably more polite than the first attempt.” the city moved around them in blurred noise. headlights washed across wet pavement. conversations drifted from somewhere down the block. neither seemed particularly interested in acknowledging any of it. her gaze remained on him. steady. unhurried. the kind of look that made people wonder whether they were being evaluated or simply tolerated. i am not lost. “good,” she said lightly. “i was concerned for a moment.” then came the rest. intimidation generally requires effort. you seem entirely capable of doing that part on your own. that earned a small laugh. low. brief. “is that your way of saying i'm difficult?” she asked. the question wasn't really a question. her head tilted slightly as she regarded him. there was something almost frustratingly composed about him. not threatening. not arrogant. simply unmoved. the sort of person who seemed allergic to unnecessary reactions. which, unfortunately, made him more interesting. “and here i thought we were building rapport.” she folded her arms loosely across her chest. “although i suppose we're making progress. you've upgraded from move along now to complete sentences.” a beat. “i'll take the victory.” his final remark lingered between them. you are not a test subject, and i have no interest in measuring. for the first time, something sharper flickered behind her eyes. not offense. curiosity. “that's interesting,” she said softly. because most people measured. constantly. status, leverage, usefulness, weakness. especially in a city like this. “either you're remarkably secure in your own judgment...” her gaze held his. “or you've already decided whatever it is you wanted to know.” the corner of her mouth twitched. “fortunately for both of us, i'm not particularly invested in which one it is.” she finally shifted her weight as if considering whether to continue on her way. then paused. “for what it's worth,” giuliana added, voice smooth as silk, “you should work on your greetings for the future.” a glance toward him. “they're memorable.” another beat. “not necessarily in the way you'd hope.”

the reaction was immediate. small. controlled. but immediate. giuliana caught it anyway. the slight tension in arisa’s shoulders. the careful way her attention sharpened without appearing to. the instinctive check toward luna that happened a fraction of a second before she looked back. protective. interesting. the ocean rolled lazily behind them, waves folding against the shoreline while children laughed further down the beach. the whole scene felt deceptively normal. giuliana had spent enough years around dangerous people to know normal was usually where the important things hid. “no,” she agreed easily. “we haven’t met.” her gaze drifted briefly toward luna, who seemed far more invested in her sandcastle than the increasingly delicate conversation happening nearby. lucky child. “a week ago,” giuliana continued, voice casual enough to almost pass for idle conversation. “playground near the east side.” she let the information settle. didn't rush it. didn't soften it either. “you weren't there.” a pause. “she was with her father.” there it was. not a question. not an accusation. simply a fact placed carefully between them. for a moment, giuliana watched the waves rather than arisa. gave her space to process it. gave her room to decide whether she wanted to lie. “for what it's worth,” she added after a beat, “she seemed very happy.” her eyes returned to arisa then. calm. steady. dangerously perceptive. “and he seemed terrified.” the corner of her mouth curved faintly. “which, in my experience, is usually how you identify a good parent.” another pause. then, quieter this time. “you don't need to look at me like i'm a threat.” because now she was. looking at her that way. giuliana could see it. “if i intended your daughter harm, we wouldn't be discussing sandcastles.” the statement was delivered with unnerving simplicity. not a threat. not reassurance either. just truth. her gaze flicked toward luna once more as the little girl proudly added another lopsided handful of sand to her construction project. “honestly,” she said dryly, “i'm more concerned about what she'll become when she realizes she can throw things with that kind of accuracy.” then she looked back at arisa. “though judging by her parents, stubborn is probably the more immediate concern.”

gianna was silent for a moment. unsure of how to even begin. how their cousin had invited her to talk. an actual sit and and talk. one betweeen two cousins. not between a soldier and her boss. the entire conversation between them had left gianna feeling as if the walls around her were crumbling, and in a way, they were. that was something she didn't even want to admit either. "it was just a talk between two cousins. an actual talk. not one of him yelling at me or telling me that i didn't do a good job." it was an honest conversation that had caught her off guard. she never expected it either. "i also told him about something i've kept from him, and everyone else too.." that was a whole can of worms that was going to open. she just knew it. the moment she told her sister, she could only imagine how mad she would possibly be at her. "turns out he already knew though."

for a moment, giuliana said nothing. which, from her, was usually a warning sign. she remained leaning against the edge of her desk, espresso cup balanced loosely in one hand, eyes fixed on gianna with the kind of attention most people found uncomfortable. not because it was judgmental. because it was complete. an actual talk. that alone was enough to surprise her. antonio was many things. patient was not typically among them. the corner of her mouth twitched faintly. “well,” she said at last, dry as ever, “that narrows the list of possible catastrophes considerably.” her gaze dropped briefly to the desk before returning to her sister. “and for what it's worth, nana, if antonio voluntarily sat down and had an emotionally functional conversation, i think we should probably document the occasion for historical records.” the joke was gentle. intentional. because she could already see it. the way gianna was bracing herself. waiting. then came the second part. i also told him about something i've kept from him, and everyone else too. the humor disappeared. not dramatically. simply gone. giuliana set her espresso down. carefully. “ah.” just that. one syllable. and somehow it carried enough weight to make the office feel smaller. her eyes narrowed slightly — not in anger. in thought. turns out he already knew though. that earned the first genuine look of surprise she'd shown all day. “he knew?” a beat. then another. because that changed things. antonio knowing meant this wasn't a fresh wound. it meant someone had been carrying information for longer than gianna realized. it meant there had been opportunities for confrontation that never happened. which, frankly, sounded even more like antonio than yelling did. finally, giuliana exhaled softly through her nose. “okay.” she straightened slightly. “first of all, i'm going to need significantly more detail than that because you've somehow managed to tell this story exactly like a witness being cross-examined.” a pause. “which is impressive considering you're related to me and should know better.” the faintest hint of affection returned to her voice. then she stepped closer, just enough that the conversation felt less like an interrogation and more like family. “second,” giuliana continued quietly, “look at me.” she waited until gianna did. “whatever this thing is that you've been carrying around alone...” her expression softened. not visibly to most people, but enough for gianna to see it. “the part of this story you're most afraid of is not the secret.” her head tilted slightly. “it's finding out whether people still love you after they know it.” silence settled between them. gentler this time. “and unless i've missed something particularly dramatic,” giuliana said softly, “antonio already answered that question when he stayed.” a beat. “now tell me the part you're trying very hard not to tell me.”

apparently, the other brunette did not share in scottie's sense of flattened darkened humor entertaining, brought on by a large book she'd seen sitting by her and that thing looked huge.

giuliana didn't look up immediately. which somehow made the silence worse. she sat on the opposite end of the waiting area with a hardcover book resting open against one crossed knee, one finger marking her place between the pages. tailored cream coat. gold jewelry. the sort of effortless polish that made it seem personally offensive when someone interrupted her concentration. only after a beat did her gaze finally lift from the book to scottie. slowly. deliberately. the kind of look that suggested she was trying to determine whether the joke had been bad or whether scottie herself was simply committed to making it worse through repetition. “ah.” a pause. “see, the issue isn't that i'm rich.” her voice was smooth, composed. “it's that jokes are generally expected to be funny.” she turned a page. calmly. then added, “a distinction i realize is becoming increasingly controversial.” the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly before her attention returned to the magazine in scottie's hands. “and for the record, i grew up surrounded by italians. if you think wealth is what killed my sense of humor, you've dramatically underestimated the damage family can do.” another page turned. "though i'm fascinated by the assumption that everyone who owns a hardcover book is rich." her eyes flicked briefly back toward scottie. “some of us simply enjoy reading things longer than a tweet.” there was no real hostility in it. not quite. just the faintly patronizing tone of a woman who enjoyed winning conversations she hadn't volunteered to participate in. she studied scottie for another moment. defensive posture. sharp eyes hidden behind deliberate disinterest. a person who looked perpetually prepared to leave before anyone could ask her to stay. "besides," giuliana continued, closing the book around her finger, “if you're going to tell a joke about someone dying because of a vocabulary mistake, commitment is important.”

Closed starter Characters: Arisa + Giuliana @velourhush Location: walk by the ocean

the shovel landed near the edge of giuliana’s shoe with a soft thud against the sand. for a moment, she simply looked down at it. then at the child attached to it. small. dark-eyed. entirely unconcerned with the chaos she’d accidentally launched into a stranger’s path. a dangerous kind of familiar. slowly, giuliana bent to retrieve the toy, the sleeves of her cream knit cardigan slipping slightly down elegant wrists as ocean wind curled loose strands of dark hair around her face. she handed it back easily enough, gaze lifting toward arisa afterward. and paused. recognition clicked into place almost immediately. not because they knew each other well. because yujin park had looked at this child like men only looked at things they would kill for. the memory surfaced uninvited — playground lights, luna’s tiny hands in the sand while yujin stood watch like the world itself owed him paranoia. and now here. the same eyes. not yujin’s exactly. hers. but close enough. giuliana’s expression gave nothing away. “don’t apologize,” she said smoothly, voice softened slightly by the sound of the waves nearby. “i think i survived the attack.” the faintest curve touched her mouth as she glanced toward luna again. “though her throwing arm is concerningly good for someone her size.” her attention returned to arisa after a beat, more observant now than casual. she noticed things automatically — the protective positioning near the blanket, the way arisa tracked luna even while speaking, the exhaustion sitting subtly beneath composure. mother exhaustion. the sort that settled into bone. “cute kid,” giuliana said quietly. a pause. then, deliberate. “i’ve seen her before.” not accusatory. worse, maybe. certain.

you’re helping yourself survive proximity to my family. there’s a difference. hani couldn't help but wonder how this woman had gotten the position of a family lawyer if she didn't even fully know who she was speaking to. it almost had her in awe, the way giuliana was talking to her like she was nothing but one of her little lackeys who was barely worth kissing her immaculate, expensive shoes. not a policewoman who'd ended up in the mob's pocket because she was too much of a danger to have anywhere else. if anyone should've known the stakes, it should've been that woman. it was slightly, if not very, worrying that she apparently didn't.

the smile faded from giuliana’s face first. not dramatically. not emotionally. just… gone. like a curtain being lowered. for the first time since this conversation started, she looked at hani without even the pretense of social softness. no polished amusement. no carefully measured condescension dressed up as charm. only calculation. quiet. cold. dangerous. the jazz still drifted softly through the bar around them, absurdly gentle against the tension coiling tighter at the table. hani spoke, and giuliana listened. every word. every threat hidden inside practicality. every reminder that they were both standing waist deep in the same poisoned water pretending the other one should feel guiltier about it. when hani finished, giuliana finally set the letter down between them with meticulous care. “there she is,” she said softly. not praise. recognition. her head tilted slightly as she studied hani now like she was seeing the actual shape of her for the first time beneath the badge and irritation and transactional resentment. “that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me all night.” her fingers folded neatly atop the table. controlled. elegant. “you’re right. this is mutually beneficial.” a pause. “and you’re also right that someone higher up than me would absolutely prefer you alive while you’re still useful.” the wording hung there intentionally. while. then, finally, giuliana leaned forward slightly. “but let me clarify something before you mistake my patience for ignorance again.” her voice never rose. it didn’t need to. “i know exactly who you are. i know why certain people in this city decided it was safer to buy your cooperation than risk your independence.” her gaze sharpened. “and i know you’re smart enough to understand that makes you valuable, not untouchable.” a beat. “those are not the same thing.” the rain outside hit harder against the windows now, gold reflections shivering across the table between them. giuliana’s expression remained composed. almost unbearably so. “you think i’m disrespecting you because i’m speaking calmly,” she continued. “but what’s actually happening is that you walked over here expecting me to panic, and now you’re frustrated that i haven’t.” her eyes flicked once toward the letter. “multiple copies was smart,” she admitted. “genuinely. i’d have been disappointed otherwise.” then back to hani. steady. unflinching. “but if you’re going to stay in business with my family, you should learn something very quickly.” the faintest curve returned to her mouth, colder now than before. “we respond far better to leverage than ultimatums.” another pause. deliberate. “and threatening to talk if things stop benefiting you?” giuliana murmured. “cara, that’s not leverage. that’s a countdown clock.” silence settled between them for a second before she leaned back again, smooth as silk sliding over a blade. “now.” she nudged the letter lightly with one lacquered nail. “are we going to solve the problem…” her eyes lifted to hani’s again. “or are we going to keep measuring each other’s willingness to survive this conversation?”

Open Starter Character: Seojun Ryu + your muse location: honestly anywhere

she had always thought men like him were the most dangerous kind. not the loud ones. not the reckless ones. but the ones who spoke like every word had already been weighed, measured, and approved by something colder than conscience. she noticed him before she fully registered him. tailored lines. stillness that didn’t belong in a public street. eyes that kept mapping the world like it might shift into something lethal if he blinked wrong. a man built for exits. and for making sure other people didn’t get them. his voice cut through the space before the moment could settle. move along now. bored. controlled. final. giuliana stopped exactly where she was. not because she had to. because she chose to. her heels clicked once against the pavement as she angled slightly, just enough to show she wasn’t intimidated, just enough to show she had noticed everything he was trying not to show. “that’s an interesting way to say hello,” she replied, calm and almost conversational, like they were discussing weather instead of intent. her gaze flicked briefly past him, then back. always past first. exits. lines of sight. angles. then him. “or are you one of those men who thinks tone replaces manners?” a faint pause. the kind that made people uncomfortable if they weren’t used to being watched while thinking. “because if you are, i’d recommend updating the training. it’s outdated.” she shifted her weight slightly, unhurried, still not moving away. “i’m not in your way,” giuliana added softly. “so either you’re lost… or you’re trying to be intimidating.” her eyes held his now. steady. assessing. “and if it’s the second one,” she said, voice dropping just a fraction colder, “you picked a very inconvenient person to practice on.”