empressseven

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[empressseven]

When he turned to her at the bar, a finger of amber in his clutches, a smirk toyed at the corner of her red lipped mouth. A well manicured hand dusted dainty, tasteful jewelry smoothed down the bodice of her figure hugging dress. "Oh, I would say I was celebrating, wouldn't you?" Brow ticked up behind the mask shielding her full identity. Şeyda liked it that way, only peeks and glimpses into whom and what she was.

The extra dry martini with an additional olive was held half empty in the gentle cradle of her fingers. "You, on the other hand, look like you're closer to drowning your sorrows." It wasn't just her luck that one of the wealthiest ended up beside her in that moment. This was her target all along. Surely, he was well acquainted with those that had diamonds in their eyes and knew a trap when he saw one, so Şeyda's approach was entirely different.

"Whiskey is for wallowers and those with guilty consciences," the empress teased. "What kinds of demons are you nursing tonight?" Of course this went in direct contrast of the confidence and wealth his drink of choice symbolized.

where: the liddell hippodrome when: evening with: open!

It wouldn’t be entirely accurate to say that the day’s festivities aren’t up Max’s street. On the contrary, if the horse racing had taken place at a different venue (ideally one without his family name attached), he’d be carousing with the best of them, his seemingly-endless supply of money transforming miraculously into champagne and betting slips.

Not so, tonight. Following his recent conversation with his older brother and the unpleasant reminder that his supply of money is not, in fact, endless, Max is on his best behaviour, and disturbingly sober for an event where he’s at constant risk of bumping into one of his siblings.

He winds up at the bar in spite of himself, irretrievably caught in the gravitational pull of the one thing that promises to salve the wound of his being here - but one drink couldn’t hurt, surely?

His mind made up, Max signals to the bartender for a finger of whiskey, then turns his attention to the person standing beside him, the warmth of his smile clearly visible beneath his half-mask (which is admittedly doing precious little to preserve his anonymity). “So, are we celebrating a victory, or drowning our sorrows?”

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If there was a bevy of betting going on then there was no doubt Şeyda Seven would be in attendance somewhere. She wasn't a spy, there were no cloaks and daggers involved in her movements, yet she seemed to slip in and out of places and moments like a shadow. One minute you're cheering on the horse you'd put a hefty wager on as it makes an entrance in the parade, the next she's by your side telling you what a good choice you'd made.

When the soft nudge, clearly someone feminine, had been felt she'd been in the middle of an action very similar to just that. As she turned her bright and sparkling gaze to the woman now at her side, mask in place on her face, Şeyda smiled. "You're fine, tatlım."

There was a way around the question and one thankfully offered by the young woman in her follow up comment. It left room for Shay to turn things less personal on her end since she wasn't the one that threw her money away. "Never? How are you liking it so far? Some people pick based on the name of the horse, others play the odds. Did any catch your eye?"

Open Starter for: everyone!

When: March 2024

Where: Liddell Hippodrome

The Liddell Hippodrome was one of the more interesting events connected to Julie's job. "Interesting" because it was very clear, even when passing through a ballroom of masked faces, that a good portion of attendees were not the upper crusts of society. Julie was outside, watching the races, mask hanging limply from her hand. She could hear the low chatter of bets being made, and the whoops and hollers as the jockey's entered the stalls.

Julie glanced down at her watch as a notification buzzed through. Hector hardly required medical care, but she was instructed to keep close just in case. So, she drifted a little further from the bleachers and closer to the scoreboards (and the hall), narrowly avoiding bumping into someone else in the process. "Oh, excuse me," Julie said, more of a reflex than anything. She regarded the board for a moment, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "So, who has your bet? I've only seen events like this in movies."

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A lost girl in the midst of a big party usually went unnoticed, because she knew how to act like smoke. Faintly there, easily tickles your senses and wraps around you, then gone and leaving you to wonder what enigma had you just had a dance with.

A pair of sparkling eyes observed the scene carefully. This wasn't her setting, Şeyda liked the casino for its familiarity but also because she knew what to do. A place like this and people such as these mingling about wanted small talk and things she wasn't built for.

Red lips parted when she'd unintentionally caught eyes with someone, then slowly formed into a gentle upward slope on one side. The mask she wore left her appearance a bit of a mystery, which she liked, it was easier to be a snake slipping through the grass this way, but she wondered why he'd made his way toward her.

"I don't think so," unless he frequented the Red Rose, "but who knows. I've been told I have a memorable face." Which, Şeyda still hadn't revealed in the same way he had, and that only broadened her little grin a tinsy bit.

"And what's your business that has you networking with a... very particular type? I was thinking you just liked older women."

Open Starter for: everyone!

When: March 2024

Where: Liddell Hippodrome

When people thought of oligarchies people seemed to always forget hospitals and their administration. Ever since Demir completed his residency he had the distinct displeasure of being assigned as the designated "schmoozer." Hospitals needed donors and donors tended to be people with political interests and some half-baked sob story (usually about a grandparent or a great something) that made them interested in medical research. It was time-consuming, and slightly demoralizing, but not without its use.

So, Demir was at the Liddell Hippodrome on behalf of the hospital entertaining an elderly couple and acting interested. He could sense another pair of eyes drifting over him but it wasn't until his companions ultimately got swept up by some old friends that he had a chance to look towards the pair of eyes. He made a note to catch up with the couple later and turned, holding his own mask up over his face for a moment. "Have we met before?" he asked, then with a tilt of his head, he removed the mask to show them a brief smile. "No, I am not related to them. Everyone has to network, right?"

[empressseven]

❝ something in her hurts in kinda the same way as when rain clouds hurt before they break open. maybe when she was born she cried so loud she woke the dead and now a ghost lives within her. maybe the problem is really that she doesn’t feel anything much less love ❞

⟨ hande erçel. cis woman. she/her. 30. ⟩ We just saw Şeyda Seven entering the Tate Modern. I heard through the grapevine that their loyalties lie with [ the Jabberwocks ] and that they also go by The Empress* . Be careful, they work for them as an interrogator and can sometimes be reckless, escapist, or even competitive but I’ve also heard some people say that they were persevering, confident and quite magnetic. — selina. she/her. 30. pst. none.

𝐢.    biography.   𝐢𝐢.   connections.   𝐢𝐢𝐢.   visage.   𝐢𝐯.   character study.

[empressseven]

hande ercel sen cal kapimi (ep 15)

[empressseven]