ademirci

[ademirci]

❝ i  don't  believe,  miss  somsri,  ❞  the  left  corner  of  his  lips  tugs  upward  in  a  show  of  smirk,  voice  lowering  to  resemble  a  purr,  ❝  i  know.  ❞  his  belief  may  not  have  scientific  proof  to  back  it  up,  but  twenty-five  years  (  give  or  take  a  few  months  )  of  experience  affirming  the  truth  of  it  must  lend  some  credence  to  it,  does  it  not?  not  that  aras  has  long  to  ponder  the  issue,  for  somsri  continues  speaking;  and  my  oh  my,  what  she  is  saying  certainly  sounds  worthy  of  his  interest.  ❝ did  you  have  something  specific  in  mind?  ❞  he  leans  forward  in  his  seat,  his  attention  fully  devoted  to  her  now.  ❝ because  i  do  love  a  good  challenge. ❞  ever  the  dauntless  boy,  he  is.  ❝ but  it  is  a  non-legal  challenge,  yes? ❞  aras  leans  back  again  casually,  though  the  focus  of  his  gaze  is  no  less  intense  than  it  was  mere  seconds  ago.  ❝ i  would  hate  for  a  promising  lawyer  such  as  yourself  to  get  in  professional  trouble  because  of,  say,  frivolous  litigation  or  malicious  prosecution. ❞

such  confidence  was  common  amongst  the  underworld  of  verona,  yet  the  onyx  haired  woman  could  not  understand  how  they  all  seemed  to  think  they  were  invincible.  how  many  times  had  she  not  seen  their  minions  fall  in  court  ?  for  having  or  portraying  the  exact  same  confidence  as  their  bosses  ?  with  a  tilt  of  her  head,  the  vixen  questions  the  young  demirci  with  her  eyes.  "  so  you  believe  in  any  situation  you  can  smooth  talk  your  way  out  ?  would  you  like  to  test  that  theory  sometime  Mr.  demirci  ?  for  I  would  love  to  watch  such  a  spectacle  unfold.  "  she  would,  there  is  no  denying  that.  for  no  matter  the  blood  upon  their  hands,  the  steel  in  their  pockets  or  bullets  in  their  guns  ⸻  pride  would  be  their  downfall,  all  of  them.

[ademirci]

it  is  not  that  he  does  not  hear  kayra's  demanding  tone  ringing  through  the  halls  of  the  demirci  house.  unfortunately,  aras  very  much  does;  it  is  just  that  he  actively  chooses  to  ignore  it  for  now.  when  was  the  last  time  he  had  heard  her  voice  rise  in  an  airy  pitch  of  a  question?  no  instance  comes  forward  as  he  quickly  goes  through  his  memories  of  previous  visits  home,  of  phone  calls,  of  childhood.  it  has  always  been  a  demand  after  another;  and  suddenly  he  recalls  one  of  the  reasons  he  had  oh  so  unfortunately  neglected  visiting  his  blood  relatives  before  his  return.

but  today,  if  only  to  prevent  that  nagging  sound  from  ruining  his  day,  aras  acquiesces.  he  shoves  his  phone  into  his  back  pocket  and,  with  careless  elegance,  places  one  hand  on  the  door.  a  minute  passes  still  (  let  your  entrances  be  extravagant,  especially  if  you  are  late,  someone  whispered  to  him  once  ),  before  he  finally  pushes  it  open.  ❝  here  i  am,  dear  abla.  ❞  aras  announces,  voice  dripping  casual  vainglory  befitting  someone  of  his  status.  practiced  ease  guides  his  movements  as  he  steps  in  the  hall,  leaning  against  the  wall.  ❝  how  can  i  be  of  service  today,  sister?  ❞  another  pause,  before  a  dramatic  sigh  slips  past  his  lips.  ❝  if  it's  something  kemal  wants  me  to  do,  please  lie  and  say  you  just  missed  your  baby  brother.  ❞

location: demirci estate stauts: closed ( @ademirci )

Kayra could hear her heels clicking across the floor of her parents home as she made her way towards where she always found her younger brother. Him being back wasn't complicated but it did put a thorn in her side sometimes. She was his older sister, she had a responsibility for him... Or something like that.

She sighed. "Aras." she called out loudly towards him. "I need to speak with you." The brunette said as she flipped her hair quickly. It hadn't settled yet from the curling iron. She was planning on going out with some friends but her brother was the first priority.

"I know you're probably extremely busy doing god knows what but this is important." She explained as she crossed her arms and waited for him to appear.

[ademirci]

“he is dangerous not because his teeth are made of daggers and his eyes are made of sniper scopes and his bones are made of rifle barrels. he is dangerous not because his steps leave land mines in the earth and his voice fractures like bursting grenades and his tongue dances with cyanide foam no, he is dangerous because he shines like a galaxy lost in space and he burns like a thousand dying stars and he reels you in as effortless as gravity no, he is dangerous because you will walk into the black hole at his heart with gratitude singing soft on your lips and hands clasped close in holy prayer”

— —he is dangerous because you love him ( j.p. ) ​ (via davinamikaelsonalwaysandforever)

[ademirci]

so  self-deception  is  the  name  of  franco's  game  these  days.  it  is  such  a  dull  game  to  partake  in,  at  least  for  boys  like  him  who  had  mastered  the  delicate  art  of  appearing  like  an  open  book  upon  first  glance.  where  is  the  fun  in  voluntarily  trapping  one's  self  within  a  cage,  no  matter  how  gilded,  and  throwing  away  the  key?  what  is  the  point  of  that  when  the  foolish  charade  is  painfully  visible  to  everyone  else?  aras  does  not  understand,  but  then  again,  it  is  not  his  business  to  convince  franco  to  change  his  mind.  he  has  chosen  this  path  of  false  belief  of  his  own  volition;  it  is  not  a  demirci's  job  to  guide  a  moretti  away  from  their  poor  choices.  and  so,  he  does  not  bother  with  a  verbal  reply  to  franco's  first  words.  he  only  allows  the  corners  of  his  lips  to  tick  upward,  tilting  his  head  in  amusement.

but  then  franco  tacks  on  the  rest  of  what  he  intends  to  say,  and  for  all  he  perpetuates  an  image  of  an  unfazeable  cool  guy,  a  flash  of  unexpected  bewilderment  crosses  aras'  features.  on  the  list  of  twists  and  turns  he  had  expected  to  face  during  this  encounter,  honesty  had  failed  to  make  the  cut.  there  is  a  sharpness  to  his  eyes  now;  they  keenly  seek  any  hint  that  this  is  a  game  of  some  sort;  a  cunning  move  preplanned  to  shake  the  foundations  of  his  being.  for  that  has  to  be  it;  why  else  would  a  moretti  be  genuinely  honest  with  a  demirci?  it  has  to  be  a  game.  it  has  to  be.  has  to.

a  minute  or  so  passes  in  silence;  an  answer  does  not  reveal  itself  to  the  demirci  scion.  oh  well,  aras  thinks.  it  is  up  to  him,  then,  to  decide  how  to  proceed.  a  game.  yes.  even  without  a  proof,  it  is  easier  to  consider  this  a  game,  so  he  can  play  along  without  having  to  consider  the  deep  implications  of  it  all.  ❝  no,  i  don't  revel  in  it.  ❞  he  answers,  tone  flippant.  ❝  you  know  why  that  is?  ❞  while  he  speaks,  his  hand  sneaks  out,  his  fingers  casually  touching  the  lapel  of  franco's  jacket.  then,  before  giving  the  other  time  to  process  his  brazen  action,  with  the  lapel  held  tightly  within,  his  hands  becomes  a  fist  and  he  tugs  franco  closer.  there  are  precious  few  centimeters  separating  their  faces  now;  aras  cannot  help  but  smile.  ❝  i  don't  think  about  you  enough  to  rejoice  because  of  your  misery,   ❞  then,  only  to  add  insult  to  injury,  ❝  baby.  ❞  he  chuckles  then,  the  sound  surprisingly  soft  and  cruelly  mean  at  the  same  time.  ❝  do  you  think  about  me  often  then?  or  have  you  just  become  a  very  bold  boy?  ❞

had  he  always  been  like  this  ?  so  dramatic  and  centered  to  irritate  ?  in  truth  he  had,  he  couldn't  deny  that.  even  when  they  were  younger  the  demirci  had  been  ahead,  he  had  always  been  next  to  him,  watching  as  he  made  decisions  and  calls.  had  he  enjoyed  his  seat  next  to  areas?  yes,  but  he  would  never  tell  him  that,  his  ego  would  inflate  too  much  at  the  rivalry  between  them  would  for  sure  be  heightened. it  would  be  a  lie  to  say  he  didn't  miss  aras,  he  did  ⸻  after  all  they  had  once  been  inseparable  like  their  parents,  enjoying  dinners  together,  talking  amongst  themselves  and  having  small  secrets  which  no  one  else  knew.  however,  that  was  a  past  life,  one  filled  with  sunshine  and  colors  while  their  reality  was  now  clouded  and  colorless.  "  I  do  not  want  your  attention.  "  he  murmurs  and  drinks  from  his  coffee  cup,  sapphire  orbs  turning  to  look  outside  wondering  how  long  he  would  need  to  suffer  throughout  his  company.  "  do  you  revel  in  this  aras  ?  is  it  empowering  to  watch  me  alone  while  you  thrive  amongst  the  masses  ?  "  it  was  pure  and  the  truth,  no  lie  concealed  in  his  confession.  for  he  thrived  amongst  the  people,  while  he  hid  away.  if  their  roles  had  been  reserved  even,  he  knew  aras  would  still  come  out  on  top,  for  even  if  the  had  once  been  closer  than  most,  they  were  completely  opposites  too.

[ademirci]

there   is   a   sensation   rearing   its   head   somewhere   within   the   dark   crevices   behind   his   ribcage.   it   is   an   unfamiliar   one;   he   cannot   identify   it   nor   can   he   recall   the   last   time   he   experienced   it.   as   a   consequence,   some   of   his   trademark   joviality   diminishes.   his   mouth   becomes   a   straight   line;   his   gaze   intensifies   as   aras   cants   his   head,   searching   for   an   answer   from   the   features   of   the   third   moretti   child.   unconsciously,   he   even   shifts   forward   in   his   seat,   as   if   that   will   bring   him   any   closer   to   an   explanation   he   seeks.

then   franco   continues   speaking   and,   all   at   once,   it   hits   him.   pity.   the   sensation   that   he   feels   toward   the   other   is   pity.   no   wonder   the   realization   took   its   sweet   time   to   hit   him;   considering   how   much   he   lives   in   the   present   moment,   unbothered   by   the   negativities   around   him,   it   cannot   be   said   he   often   feels   pity   toward   someone.   he   leans   back   in   his   chair,   the   focus   of   hazel   eyes   now   renewed   with   curious   interest.   does   this   resemble   observing   a   snake   after   it   has   been   defanged?   trying   its   bad   to   strike,   only   for   his   efforts   to   be   in   vain. 

what   a   terribly   miserable   existence.

❝   you   are   the   one   who   first   spoke   to   me.   ❞   aras   reminds,   not   exactly   meanly,   but   certainly   not   kindly   either.   there   is   another   beat   or   two   of   silence   (   for   the   dramatic   effect;   he   is   a   dramatic   boy,   after   all   ),   until   he   schools   his   expression   into   that   of   faux   shock.   ❝   heaven   forbid,   moretti,   don't   tell   me   you   missed   me!   ❞   right   afterwards,   his   expression   relaxes,   but   his   eyebrow   raises   like   a   silent   challenge.   ❝    well,   franco,   you   have   my   attention.   now   revel   in   it.   ❞

when  was  the  last  time  he  had  looked  upon  aras  demirci  as  a  friend  ?  even  his  closest  one  at  that.  his  childhood  was  filled  with  moments  where  he  and  aras  had  been  as  close  as  friends  can  be,  and  look  at  them  now,  children  of  forsaken  men  where  one  stabbed  the  other,  tearing  them  apart  with  nothing  to  repair  what  had  been  destroyed  not  by  them,  but  by  the  men  who  created  them.  "  stop  flattering  yourself.  "  the  words  come  out  harsh,  venomous  even  and  it  takes  even  him  by  surprise.  does  he  truly  hate  aras  ?  when  did  that  begin  ?  was  it  when  he  abandoned  him  when  they  were  children,  did  not  listen  to  his  words  of  pleading  and  apologies  for  actions  he  did  not  commit  ?  to  this  day  he  does  not  understand  his  own  fathers  actions,  then  again  when  did  he  ever  understand  that  man  ?  he  was  stoic,  distant  ⸻  as  if  he  was  just  a  figure  but  not  the  one  who  fostered  him  into  life.

"  sit  somewhere  else  aras,  i  do  not  intend  to  argue  nor  discuss  with  you.  "  the  mask  is  once  more  in  place,  the  blonde  son  of  a  murderer  who  did  not  wish  this  at  all.

[ademirci]

it  almost  makes  a  startling  sight  —  the  stillness  with  which  aras  holds  himself,  his  exuberant  aura  deliberately  dimmed.  even  his  usually  vivacious  smile  has  a  tempered  quality  to  it,  all  to  allow  u-jin  to  finish  the  seemingly  endless  phone  call  without  distractions.  it  is  not  often  demircis  grant  such  respect  to  anyone.  this  time,  though,  aras  will  make  an  exception  to  the  rule.  even  if  it  is  only  fueled  by  the  promise  of  being  allowed  to  let  out  the  excitement  bubbling  beneath  the  surface  sooner  rather  than  later.

when  the  call  finally  ends  &  u-jin  gives  that  compliment,  the  mask's  death  is  instantaneous.  a  wide  smile  creeps  up  on  his  lips  as  he  bends  over,  hand  thrown  to  his  side  in  a  grandiose  gesture,  highlighting  the  purposeful  ridiculousness  of  his  bow.  ❝  a  saviour,  at  your  service.  ❞  aras  chuckles  at  his  little  lie  as  he  stands  up  again.  ❝  no  thanks,  because  i  have  something  even  better  in  mind.  ❞  a  dramatic  pause  —  an  effect  mildly  tamed  by  his  inability  to  hold  back  his  excitement.  ❝  were  my  little  birds  correct  in  telling  me  you've  lived  in  london?  ❞

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : chianti cafe. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 : open.

nestled away in the corner of verona. ivy growth crept up the exterior, sadly the flowers weren't in bloom yet. usually, a lovely pop of colour to look at whilst one has their morning coffee. upon mornings he had business in seoul or busan to attend to by phone calls, sometimes even facetime if need be, he can be found here. on a table under the veranda, large latte with an extra shot of coffee ( making it about five shots altogether ), and mini sketchbook always within his reach.

a slender pointer finger kept his phone to his ear, fingertips barely resting on the side of the phone, long and distant glazed over his eyes. the call had been going for a little more then an hour, heat radiated from his phone making him that much antsy to end the call but there was no polite way of excusing himself. until an opportunity arose. ❝ 감사합니다. 예. 좀 더 얘기해야 하는데 나 지금 가봐야 해. ❞ beckoning for the nearby person who caught his attention to come over, before continuing on. ❝ 안녕히 가세요 친구 ❞ finally being able to finish the conversation that took for too long.

with his glass halfway to his lips, it didn't take long for him to sip of the latte, replenishing him. ❝ you saved me from my ear burning off. ❞ he said across the table, noticing the morning rush had settled in and all the tables around them looked occupied from the quick scan he just did. ❝ join me ? my way of saying thank you. ❞ he gave an easy smile, one that could melt butter. lightly kicking out the chair across from him, politely so gesturing for them to sit down.

[ademirci]

the  pair  of  hazel  eyes  scan  the  floral  displays  around  them  with  seeming  disinterest  —  regal  apathy  suited  for  young  princes  such  as  him.  ❝  roses.  ❞  aras  finally  breaks  the  silence.  ❝  always  roses.  ❞  they  may  not  be  the  most  original  choice   (  he  would  know,  courtesy  of  his  league  of  admirers  throughout  the  years  ),  but  they  are  a  timeless  classic  for  a  reason.  his  feet  lead  him  forward,  hand  gently  brushing  over  all  the  rose  variants,  their  bright  colors  blooming  in  technicolor. 

❝  is  there  a  further  message  you  want  to  send,  though?  ❞  whether  the  woman  is  interested  in  additional  small  talk  makes  no  difference;  aras  is  in  the  mood  for  a  little  lighthearted  socializing.  ❝  because  it's  imperative  you  pick  the  right  color  if  you  want  to  be  taken  seriously.  ❞

status. open.

location. tulipani flower shop.

‘ i think i’m gonna take these ’ she says as she analyzes once more the bouquet of lilies she’s holding. 

flowers — or plants in general — are one thing giulietta’s not really good at. it’s probably that they’re able to perceive her true aura and that’s why they die the second they cross the door to her apartment, but she’s resilient to make them work and stay alive for once, no matter how long it takes her. 

‘ what do you think? ’ she asks the other person at the flower shop, showing them the bouquet even though she's not truly interested in their opinion — she's just trying to make her presence known. ‘ are they as pretty as me or should i get another type? ’

[ademirci]

he  has  always  had  a  flair  for  dramatics.  it  is  a  delightful  dance  people  should  find  irritating,  but  how  many  times  has  he  been  treated  to  a  sight  of  a  reluctant,  charmed  smile  tugging  the  corner  of  their  lips  upwards?  too  many  to  count,  over  the  years.  the  lawyer's  audacious,  yet  playful,  accusations  provide  another  opportunity  for  a  show  of  theatrics  —  and  aras  is  not  one  to  deny  himself  such  a  simple  pleasure.  ❝  perché  mai!  ❞  he  presses  a  hand  over  his  heart,  draws  in  a  sharp  breath  of  shock.  ❝  i'll  have  you  know i've  never  been  arrested  nor  have  i  been  in  handcuffs.  ❞  well,  not  in  this  sense,  at  least.  ❝  besides,  ❞  aras  continues,  his  hand  dropping  back  to  his  side,  ❝  i  can  guarantee  that,  should  an  unfortunate  event  such  as  that  transpire,  i  could  talk  myself  out  of  it  before  i  even  step  a  foot  inside  the  station.  ❞

closed    starter    for    :    chariya    somsri    &    aras    demirci location    :    police    station @ademirci

picking  up  papers  for  one  of  her  cases  was  a  weekly  ordeal  for  the  lawyer.  she  did  not  like  it  when  others  touched  her  papers  before  receiving  them,  so  retrieving  them  herself  was  the  safest  bet.  however,  on  her  way  out  one  of  the  demirci  children  also  seems  to  walk  out  of  the  door.  "  are  my  is  deceiving  me  ?  it  is  not  often  one  meets  a  demirci  walking  out  of  this  place  without  chains  to  their  hands.  "  onyx  hair  flies  with  the  wind,  saccharine  smile  upon  lips.  "  did  you  behave  so  they  let  you  out  early  ?  "  always  a  tease,  never  afraid  of  the  consequences.

[ademirci]

the  hint  of  irritation  lingers  in  the  air,  and  aras  notices.  it  is  a  small  miracle,  to  be  handed  such  a  convenient  piece  of  ammunition  on  a  silver  platter,  a  fact  made  more  inexplicable  by  the  fact  that  it  was  given  by  one  against  whom  it  can  be  used.  nevertheless,  it  is  a  gift  aras  will  not  let  go  to  waste.  ❝  aren't  you  a  darling,  ❞  he  responds  cheekily,  mirth  sparkling  in  his  eyes  as  he  turns  to  face  the  moretti  scion,  ❝  keeping  up  with  my  schedule  so  i  don't  have  to.  ❞ 

without  another  word,  and  most  certainly  without  an  invitation,  aras  moves  until  he  plops  himself  down  in  the  chair  opposite  of  franco.  what  a  pair  the  two  of  them  made;  an  effervescent  dark  prince,  and  a  golden  one  chipped  from  ice.  almost  a  shame  there  would  never  be  common  ground  between  them  in  this  bloodied  kingdom. 

❝  would  you  be  so  kind  and  remind  me  of  my  usual  order?  ❞  aras  quips,  a  chuckle  slipping  past  his  lips.  ❝  surely  you  know  it  too,  since  you  know  me  so  well.  ❞

closed   starter   for   :   franco   moretti   &   aras   demirci location   :   chianti   cafe @ademirci

perhaps  it's  the  fact  that  he  shows  up  from  nowhere  that  triggers  a  certain  reaction  from  the  blonde.  had  they  not  decided  to  avoid  each  other  ?  of  course,  not  by  words  by  just  glancing  at  one  another.  today  he'd  wanted  to  get  a  cup  of  coffee,  perhaps  try  to  forget  the  predicament  his  father  had  placed  upon  him  and  his  family. peace  of  mind  was  perhaps  the  last  thing  aras  demirci  would  grant  him.  "  I  thought  Mondays  weren't  your  day  for  coffee.  "  his  voice  carries  to  the  door  he  occupies  and  thankfully,  chianti  didn't  allow  anyone  to  fight  in  its  vicinity  ⸻  otherwise  perhaps  the  two  would  run  at  each  others  throat,  just  like  their  parents.

[ademirci]

#ARASDEMIRCI — he is dangerous because you will walk into the black hole at his heart with gratitude singing soft on your lips and hands clasped close in holy prayer.

STATISTICS.

full name: aras ozan demirci

nickname(s)/alias(es): -

age: 25

date of birth: june 17, 1999

place of birth: verona, italy

current location: verona, italy

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

romantic & sexual orientation: demiromantic bisexual

religion: atheist

occupation: pr specialist for house demirci

family: marcello demirci ( father — deceased ), ludovica demirci ( mother ), kemal demirci ( older brother ), kayra demirci ( older sister ), aylin demirci ( cousin )

education level: a msc in social and public communication from the london school of economics and political science ( 2023 - 2024 ); a ba in communications from university college london ( 2018 - 2021 ).

living arrangements: a 4 bedroom penthouse in the veronetta district of verona / demirci family home

financial status:  wealthy; majority comes from the family's wealth, but has earned a significant amount through his own work

language skills:  italian, turkish, english ( fully fluent ); spanish ( full professional fluency ); latin, chinese ( limited proficiency )

PERSONALITY.

positive / negative traits: amiable, adventurous / capricious, insincere

enneagram: type 7 — the enthusiast

mbti: entp

four temperaments: sanguine

zodiac sign: gemini

chinese zodiac: earth rabbit

to be added

BIOGRAPHY.

( tw: parental death, murder )

It's not often something bright is birthed within the confines of darkness as encompassing as the underworld of Verona, but from the moment he drew his first breath, Aras Demirci appeared to have different plans. Whereas the rest of his family bloodied their hands with ugly business behind closed doors, Aras drew people in with his natural magnetism. Given that he was the third child, he had fewer obligations within the mafia business and thus, had more time to mingle with people. It was no wonder Verona soon found itself enamored by the young prince — his boyish charm, his ability to smile just the right way to make you forget every naughty deed of his, his skill to make anyone feel included in his circle regardless of your background. In return, Aras reciprocated Veroneses' affection with the same kind of adoration. Life was perfect — until it wasn't.

Aras' carefree and beautiful life came to an abrupt end in 2011 when his father was discovered dead in the grim alley, a fate brought forward by his dearest friend. Everything was in sudden uproar; chaos and grief reigned over their family and the city; a need for blood and vengeance took root in the hearts of his relatives. But the young prince himself, he just felt hollow. It was hard to comprehend all of it, especially when his world previously had been as untouched by the ugly side of it as it could have. Furthermore, the pitying looks from people without anyone really asking how he felt about it all soon became unbearable.

To cope with the weight of it all, in addition to placing flowers on his father's grave, Aras buried a part of him that had exuded genuine joy. His mates at school saw little to no change in his demeanor; he was still the same charming boy, laughing and grinning, with a mischievous spark in his eyes. However, the air of genuine sincerity had vanished from his actions. Aras would seek people out and beguile them, only to drop them a moment later with no remorse as soon as his interest in them had waned. It was better this way, wasn't it? No one could crack a hardened heart, after all.

In the following years, he maintained a polite distance from Demirci family's activities and, purposefully, withdrew from his family members as well. And when the chance to brush off the dust of Verona's crimson streets came, Aras seized it without hesitation. London became his new home; and to describe those years as eye-opening and transformative would be an understatement of the century. No one knew him or his baggage here; he could just be and breathe. It was an exhilarating thing to realize, and Aras soon made the most of it. Indulged in lovers, made friends, explored the country and the world, proved to be a surprisingly gifted academic as well. His visits to Italy became less and less frequent, until they ceased entirely at the beginning of his master's degree studies in September '23. It was as if old self had slowly begun to return, for life was perfect. Until it wasn't.

In early autumn of 2024, Aras received unwelcome news from Verona — now would be the time to take the next step in their vendetta against the Moretti family. No doubt things would get messy and, given his experience in the field of communications and his natural charm, his assistance would be required to turn the tide of the war in Demircis' favor. For the briefest moments, he considered ignoring the command or fleeing. But as seeing that would've caused unnecessary meddling from the parts of his family, he decided against it and, reluctantly, returned to Verona's cobble streets. It's not his intention to stay any longer than absolutely necessary; he'll manipulate the masses to gain their support for his family and hopefully see someone pay for his father's murder. But once that's done? He'll drop this damned city like he's dropped anyone fooled by his amiable exterior and honeyed words.

TIMELINE & LOCATIONS THROUGH THE YEARS.

june 1999 - july 2018: verona, italy

august 2018 - august 2020: london, england

september 2020 - january 2021: barcelona, spain

february 2021 - october 2024: london, england

october 2024 -> : verona, italy

FUN FACTS.

idk ill update this

[ademirci]

angels would damn themselves for me.

#ademirci — a dependent roleplay blog for CRIMSONFM, featuring one ARAS DEMIRCI, the youngest of demirci children, a delightful rascal recently returned home after years abroad, ready to utilize his area of expertise to turn the tide of the war : by spinning a good story.

dossier (wip). connections. interactions. visage. about. pinterest.

[ademirci]

got a headache (pronounced like versace)

[ademirci]

EMRE BEY menajerimi ara: 45. bölüm