you utter my hymn from under your breath

Statistics

NAME: Alara Ferah Baydar-Dawson

AGE: Thirty

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Female, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Demet Ozdemir

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5'7"

DATE OF BIRTH:  October 28th, 1991

ZODIAC SIGN: Scorpio

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor's in Art and Master's in Art History from NYU

OCCUPATION: Curator at One Mile Gallery

HOMETOWN: Ithaca, New York

Character Biography (TW: death, cons?)

heavenends​:​

Dawson shook his head, a small release of the tension growing between his temples. He had been dreading the question of how quickly he had moved on, but mainly from anyone but his ex-wife. They had agreed on the divorce with ease, mainly because there had been a lull they hadn’t moved passed in years. Andy’s death had pulled them apart, released every word they swallowed in order to make a comfortable silence in what they thought had to be the way things would always be. When she passed, they realized how easily things could change.

“Not really, because this is catching up,” Dawson pointed out. “Why separate you both, when apparently, these are the new circumstances? PJ, this has always been your home. That won’t change. But it’s the same as it was when you were a kid that under this roof, the most important rule is respect.”

He owed them both a talk, but he could only imagine the danger of what would come with the impression of starting to discuss things behind closed doors. There had been a wedge between him and PJ after his sister’s death, one that hadn’t been entirely discussed with Alara since they tied the knot so quickly.

“PJ,” He said, his tone leaning into his son at his Hooters comment. “Please. Alara, I’m sorry. It’s a lot for both of you. How about we all have dinner? It’s been a long day, and I’m sure you’re both hungry. What do you want to have?”

“I can’t waste all my best material in one shot, how amateur of me would that be?” Percy questioned, dismissing her remarks about his comments with a wave of his hand. Did a stranger really deserve all of the harshness he was throwing her way? Probably not, but it was the best way PJ knew how to deal with the massive bombshell his father dropped onto his lap without warning.

“How am I supposed to respect someone I know nothing about? Your rule has some exceptions Daddio, I think I found one of them.” The brunette wasn’t going to admit to owing this woman the benefit of the doubt, as far as he knew it was Pope’s decision to keep her a secret from the rest of his family but his stubbornness fought against him. “Is dinner supposed to place a Band-Aid on this conversation until we’re ready to pull it off again?” He asked with a huff, placing his hand along the side of his left temple to try to rub away his burning frustrations. “Steak?”    

…

She looked off in the opposite direction of the two men speaking in the room. Things had instantly gotten more complicated than they were before. She knew marrying a man eighteen years her senior would cause some issues, but she thought they were estranged and it would be out of her mind. Sighing, “I can’t wait for the insults,” she mumbled, knowing that they would all be hurled towards her eventually. She looked across at the man she was married to, “it’s fine,” this was a no strings attached marriage. If things got too complicated, they could leave amicably and be done with it, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to end it quite yet.

Her fingers found her temples, rubbing gently in hopes that she could will the thumping in her skull, but it was probably wishful thinking, “I didn’t do anything, but okay,” she looked over at the younger Dawson, wishing he hadn’t shown up. Alara didn’t enjoy dealing with complicated matters and this became the biggest complication in her life. “I’m fine with whatever babe,” she mumbled. @heavenends​

✩ 

she could surely already tell that he was flirting, and her body language hadn’t suggested that she wanted him to leave, nor did she back away when he approached. all of these were good signs- great signs, even, and the mention of a husband didn’t deter him in the slightest. “mm, peonies only last about a week, maybe two if you’re really attentive. but orchids? they can last for years with the right care.” and being a photographer and artist, he’d come to learn these meanings to convey messages through his art.. but it sure helped with successfully woo-ing people with his knowledge. “red orchids symbolize meaningful love, romance, and..” from the edge of the petal, his finger went to stroke down the middle of it as he continued after a slight pause, “a fiery form of passion.”

...

Alara tried to keep her eyes from rolling as he went on about passion, romance and love, but even she didn’t have that much control. A smirk appeared on her face, “years? Sounds like way too much commitment for me,” she continued walking along the rows of plants. Nodding along with his remarks, “I’ll be sure to remind my husband,” she commented again, making sure he knew exactly who he was trying to flirt with. Its not like Dawson and her didn’t have an agreement with each other. They were free to pursue extracurricular activities, but this guy seemed a little too young for her. “Sounds like you know exactly how to make a girl happy,” she mused, “hope you find her out here somewhere.” Funny that a young guy was trying to hit on her, but she took it in stride.

heavenends​:

His body seemed to move slower than he anticipated, a twist that made his chest ache and his stomach churn tugging at the center of it all. How many years had it been since he’d seen Percy, and how long had it been that he was keeping Alara a secret? Part of his motivation for their jump off the deep end had been how distant he had become with his family and aside from the need for a thrill, he had finally taken his own advice that he threw over and over again in NA meeting to take the leap and start a new. Standing still is just as bad as taking a step back. Dawson had forced himself to change the pattern by opening a new door all together, but he had yet to consider just how he was going to tell his son. His ex-wife had known first, some courtesy to all their time together, but he didn’t expect much with how old and departed from his affairs Percy had been to tell him much yet.

He watched him crack open the beer, the smoke that lifted from under its lid making him uneasy. He had never told Percy or Andy about his past or his struggle in fear they would only try and learn from it in all the wrong ways. The best way, he thought, had been to shield them from it all together. He had taught them to not drink, and when Dawson ever did, it was limited to a special occasion toast and only if his week has been blissful as to not chase the resolve a sip could be provide. He had never struggled with alcohol, but he knew how desperate an escape was. He had the marks on his arm to prove it.

At the crash of the ceramic, Dawson was reminded of a time where this flare for the dramatics was something he used to relish. It used to be a reaction, a jolt of life, that meant his mother was still vivid and kicking. It had taken him some time to move past that, to not seek out even the worst of acknowledgements just to know he was being seen after living so long as a speck in her euphoric haze. However, it seemed that it came from more than his circumstances as Percy’s arrival, down to the way he shifted on his feet, mimicked Dawson’s sway.

He moved between them, a small change in his body language that was reserved for certain matters. Percy would know it well. Dawson had never raised his voice at his children, and never to any of those he did his best to help in empty conference rooms with smell of stale coffee. He took them both by the wrist, though there was a motive behind standing between them in the case one wanted to retaliate once more. Two fingers wrapped around bangle and leather bracelet, any tug done gently but never letting go until they were seated in one of the chairs that faced the couch. He stood there, looking out to the room before settling on to the couch. The silence buzzed in his ears, and Dawson adjusted himself on the white canvas where his boots were on the seat cushions and his back against the wall. He accommodated his discomfort until he could feel himself settle back in his skin.

“For one, there’s no yelling in this house,” He started. “You know that, PJ, and Alara, you’ll catch up soon. I’ve never raised my voice once to either one of you and I expect the same between you to, especially since you’re my kid and this is my wife. I won’t act like it won’t be hard. You’re both glutton’s for getting what you want, whatever the means, and you may have met your match. I’m no fool, though. It’s a two way street to respect each other, but it’s one house.”

He paused. It wasn’t the introduction he anticipated, but it would have to do.

“PJ, this is Alara Osman… and we’re working on Dawson,” He said. “She’s not a maid. Far from it. She’s my wife. Alara, this is my son. Though, I’m not exactly sure where he’s been or what he’s been up to since we’ve been… distant to say the least. Shit happens when your kids leave the nest. PJ, what happened in Seattle?”

The clank of his beer cap rattled through the kitchen as Percy tossed it in the sink, slowly he brought it to his lips as an eyebrow raised in the girl’s direction. He didn’t have time to vocalize a reaction, but he was amused by her outburst as he felt the tug of his father dragging him into the living room. He knew how this went, countless talks where they shared their feelings like they were in a meeting — but the person who usually sat beside him was currently being pushed to the back of his mind. There’d been a lot that he and his father needed to catch up on, the added addition in the room being one of them and proving the perfect deflection to anything regarding himself.

“No yelling and are we going to address the elephant of throwing something — poorly, she’s got bad aim — but regardless it seems like there’s only one child in the room.” He shrugged, taking another sip as he clenched the neck of the glass bottle tighter. “Your wife? Are you trying to tell me that you erased all the memories of our life with my mother in a year?” He questioned, his eyes narrowing while he avoided the woman and focused on his father instead. “I’ve been with the parent that didn’t fucking abandon me while it seems like you’ve been frequenting Hooters.” His jaw clenched, trying to steer the conversation away from all things Seattle. “I left.” He continued through pursed lips, a slight head tilt signaling to Dawson that he wouldn’t be continuing with outsiders present.

…

She wanted to crawl out of the chair Dawson had led her to and disappear. Not only was the reality of her technically being a step mother truly setting in for her, but insults were being hurled her way constantly by him. If she didn’t wasn’t trying to be the bigger person, she would have teared the little shit to pieces. She didn’t blame him for being a little shit to her, he was surprised that his dad had a new wife that wasn’t much older than him. If her father had pulled that shit, she would have driven the woman away without any remorse. Running her hands through her hair, she sighed as he told her no yelling. Living in the house she grew up in with seven other members meant that yelling was a common occurrence in the Osman house and Alara happened to be incredibly overdramatic and loved the attention on her.

She glared at him, “Hooters? Is that all you could come up with?” First the maid, now the Hooters girl. She had probably been called worse in high school, but it pissed her off to no end that it was coming from him. Leaning back into the chair as she crossed her arms over her chest, “and I’m just supposed to be okay with him hurling insults my way?” She looked towards Dawson. She didn’t want to deal with family therapy at the moment, not when she had her own issues she avoided dealing with. “Should I even be here?” She asked, “I mean, this is an unconventional situation for all of us, but don’t you two need to catch up or something?” She wanted to crawl out of her skin because of the awkwardness. @heavenends​

closed: for @volatilescene​

location: flourish plant shop

while dominic was usually only into blondes, there were very few exceptions and those included the woman he just saw walk into the flourish plant shop. he usually only encountered her at the one mile gallery, having never seen her before the recent weeks.. but he couldn’t help his feeling of intrigue when he saw her. when he entered the shop, he wandered until finding himself next to her, fingertip running along the edge of a red orchid’s petal that was sitting before them on the table. “everyone always gives roses to their loved ones,” he began, glancing over at her with a slight upturn of his lips, “but.. orchid’s live longer, and show that you didn’t just stop by the grocery store to grab a bouquet.” with a pause, he continued, “do you know what red orchids mean?”

...

Alara grabbed at the door, letting herself into Flourish for the third time this week. She stress bought plants whenever she had to deal with PJ and started to fill the home her husband and her shared with his son with plants to distract herself from being a step mother. There was the small chance that there would be something new at the small boutique that had popped up since leaving Ithaca. Brows raised as she heard the quiet voice bring her mind back to the present, “I always preferred peonies,” she muttered softly, her fingertips running against the soft petals of the orchid he had pointed out. A smirk came to her lips, “my husband knows better than to do that,” she turned her head towards him, “and what do they mean?” She was curious to see what drivel would fall out of his mouth.

heavenends​:

All of his life, everyone who met the Dawson boys— or maybe now, they should be the Dawson men together— would tell him how much Percy looked like him. It took a long time for him to see it. When he looked back at his childhood photos, the few polaroids that now had faded with time, he saw a different in the light in their faces. As a child, Percy had been full of life. Every scream and cry he took in full, cherished it just as much as every laugh and babble. He had done his best to raise Percy and Andy in the safest haven he could provide. He never wanted to see the similarities because his past was filled with sunken cheeks and cheerful recollections twisted solely for his own survival.

There was no denying it, though. In just two years, Percy had looked more like him than he remembered but in the ways he had hoped against. There was something dull about his son, but he pushed the thought away. He had seen what happened to Andromeda, been closer to it than he had. There was no way.

Following him inside and tossing a jacket from the rack to Alara with little regard, he almost chased after him. “PJ, Perseus,” He called out. “Not a call, not a text? Does your mom know you’re back in town?”

His eyes briefly darted to the half naked woman in the living room, not letting it slow him down from continuing his walk into the kitchen. He thought about how his mother got her amusement from comparing him to his father, digging an invisible knife into his chest whenever he screwed up. PJ didn’t dig much into the cause of their divorce, figuring that the absence of his sister was the downfall of it all, but maybe he was missing something bigger — the real reason why she’d make him sleep outside on the front porch when she sensed the glaze over his eyes. It sucked when his father left, nine months wasn’t long enough before tearing another page out of the book that made up their family and it left Percy there to pick up all of the pieces.

He went for the fridge, pulling out a beer and twisting off the cap before turning his attention to Dawson quickly walking after him. “Pop, Dad — Dawson…” He chimed in before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long sip. “Didn’t you hear the harmonica? Who else do you know that still plays on of those?” He shrugged. “Of course she knows, but she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Percy scanned the room, his eyes falling back on the young woman that seemed to be watching their every move. “How long has the maid staff been hiring so young? Could I of skipped college altogether and just become a maid instead? Seems like it has some perks.”

…

The scene in front of her was complete chaos: Dawson yelling after the younger guy, PJ as he just paced around the entire living room, making himself at home. The moment that it clicked exactly who this guy was, she had a million different things going through her mind. Jesus Christ, it dawned on her that she was a stepmother, technically. Her face scrunched at the thought of it. She had completely pushed his kids out of her mind because he didn’t speak to his son and his daughter was, sadly, gone. She rubbed her temples as she let everything sink in, the sound of the harmonica was imprinted on her brain.

Yes, they were married, but it was a spur of the moment thing and that meant they didn’t know every little detail about each other and she was fine with it, until right now. The moment the word maid left his mouth, she saw red and grabbed the closest thing, which happened to be a vase in the shape of the bust of David, and hurled it across the room. It shattered in front of the little shit, “maid? I have a fucking master’s,” she glared at the two men. She didn’t even care that she was pantsless anymore, “but thanks for basically calling me a whore, really appreciate that.” Letting out a sigh, “are you going to tell him, Dawson? Or should I?”

heavenends​:

open to: alara baydar-dawson & perseus dawson | @volatilescene​ & @dodgedhalo​ location: dawson residence, waterside lake houses, cayuga heights, ithaca, ny

The granite edge of the countertop was cold against his hips, and Dawson had decided that by this hour, there wasn’t anyone around to peer through the bay window of their living room. Hands pulled at the edge of his wife’s shirt, but they stopped short at the sound that bounced off the door. He hadn’t realized until now that the knocking on the door wasn’t the pots and pans shaking within their drawers in their cabinets underneath them.

“Is that a harmonica?” Dawson asked, pulling away and looking over her shoulder at the front door. He pulled his jeans together, fumbling with the button as he went to peered through the peephole with one hand over the lock. He paused, heart dropping to his stomach. He pushed the door open.

Percy’s arrival wasn’t one that anyone was prepared for, luckily his father had lived in the house that was once used for vacations only. He wasn’t one that sold anything short, what better way was there to announce his entrance than with music? PJ cleared his throat, digging his hand into a slightly damp front pocket of his jeans, hoping that his trip to the community pool didn’t cause his instrument any harm — then he’d need another plan.

A grin spread across his cheeks as the metal shined against the sun, bringing his harmonica up to his lips and playing the tune of Smoke on the Water as loud as his lungs would allow. He almost didn’t hear the door swing open, lifting his gaze to meet his father’s eyes at he stood in the doorway. “What? Was it bad or did you forget what your only son looked like?” He questioned with a laugh, a grin soon spreading across his features. “That’s pretty harsh Pops, I look just like you — shit, am I interrupting something?” The concern in his voice was minimal, using the space between the man and the doorway to squeeze himself inside the house he knew all too well.

…

Alara whined at Dawson as he pulled away, looking at the door, “it’s nothing,” she breathed out against his lips, her hand grabbing at his chin, but it was useless as he fumbled with the button of his jeans and walked towards their front door. She took the afternoon off and had hoped to get it in, but life had other plans. She pushed herself off the granite countertop with an annoyed huff and grabbed her discarded jeans off the floor. Who would be interrupting them at this time of the day? Her hands found her hair, smoothing it out so that whoever was at the door wouldn’t realize what the two of them had just been doing.

She walked towards their living room, her jeans still in her hands, as the stranger let themselves in. She screamed out, “jesus fuck, who are you?!” She looked at the shirtless man who was dripping water on the hardwood floors before she scrambled to put on her clothes, “Dawson?” She yelled out looking at the other man before her eyes found the younger man once more as something in her mind clicked. She had hoped this wasn’t who she thought it was.