Because my Leviathan crack otp deserves an 100 themes fic. I honestly do not know how often this will be updated, so I apologize in advance, haha.

The first prompt happened to correlate with the request of a friend of mine, so huzzah! Here it is:

"linguaphile answered: Adela is miffed to have such a minor assignment - interviewing a Turkish ambassadorial attache? She's better than this."


introduction

Adela runs her tongue over her top teeth, catching a small blot of red lipstick. She adjusts her pale pink hat, cocking it slightly more to the left, and nods, content with her reflection.

Her job, however, is a complete other story.

In a world where Prince Alek had chosen to confide in her, she, young and beautiful Adela Rogers, who lived with him on that damned flying whale for two weeks, who had waited patiently for a follow up interview, who had followed the bell captain around looking for the slightest bread crumb of information, today would have been fine.

She emphasizes the thought by stomping her foot down hard on the sidewalk.

Excellent, really. She would have gone to meet him for an interview, wrote a sweet little article about how the prince was spending his holidays in the big city, and then had the evening to herself, curled up with some Bovril in front of her room's fireplace.

But that is not the case. Instead, Prince Alek decided to spill everything to Edward Malone, with his ill-fitting jackets and poorly shaven jowl, leaving her storyless and Mr. Hearst flabber-ghasted.

So he had to find her something else. Someone else. And that someone was the assistant to the Turkish Ambassador. The assistant, not even the ambassador himself. He was, most likely, a dull old fuddy duddy who would be of no interest of her, and therefore, her readers.

It was all very irritating.

Lost in her thoughts, she had almost missed the lovely little café she had marked as their spot. It was always quiet, which was good when one had to listen to an old geezer murmur on and on in a heavy accent.

Her fists clench, wrinkling up her lace gloves, and she forces herself to take another step forward the quaint doors. A smiling man lets her in, and she nods at the host familiarly, walking towards the large window towards the back where she had told the assistant to meet her, though telegram.

She stops with a start when she realizes the table is already occupied- by a lovely young lady who is glaring out the window, light from outside illuminating her soft skin and dark hair. She frowns, already turning away to look at the other tables, when reporter's instinct snaps her back. The second looks allows her to notice the dusky tone of her skin, her thick hair dark as night, the traditional- Armenian, wasn't it?- clothes she was in.

Was this her ambassador's assistant?

She bustles on ahead, clutching her purse tightly, putting on a bright smile and standing in front of the table. It takes the girl a few seconds to turn, and she does so with a scowl that she does not attempt to wipe off her face.

"Would you be the ambassador's assistant, miss?"

Now that she thinks about it, it does make a lot of sense. Young and beautiful assistant? Of course! But one would think the ambassador would hire a gal who knew how to smile.

The girl straightens, lips tightening. "I am," she answers coldly. "And you would be the reporter from that…informative paper?"

"Indeed I am!" Adela says, a surprising enthusiasm bursting out of her. She sits across from the girl, taking out her notepad and pen. "Adela Rogers, at your service."

The assistant actually grimaces. "Lilit."

"Last name?" Adela says, nose to her notepad. There was a pause, and Adela slowly lifts her head. "Last name?" She tries again, projecting her voice more.

"They're…. Not used in my city," she says, brow furrowing.

Adela smiles brightly, as if this is completely normal. "Not a problem. I can call you Miss Lilit, then. Well, to start with…"

She looks up at Lilit, waiting for a opener to come to her, as they always do. Instead, she notices a detail she hadn't before- a row of shiny gold coins forming a crown on the top of her head. The image strikes a familiar image with Adela- who had a passionate love of head wear, the more unusual, the better- and she suddenly realizes she's seen this girl before.

"Wait a minute." She says, turning her head to one side. "I know you. I'm sure of it."

"I am sure I do not know you," Lilit says in English, manners forced.

"No, no," Adela says curtly. "It was…" she shut her eyes and wandered through her memories, dinners and parties and events and—

A woman dressed in a daringly cut dress, hair up and away from her face with- yes!- a row of coins in her hair.

Her moment of victory is interrupted by a question- why did she remember her so clearly? And then that comes around, too: her arm interlocked with a boy in a uniform, with oddly fine fears and a head of fair hair.

"The bell captain!" Adela shouts, slamming her hands down on the table, and the guests around them all look round. Lilit herself is staring at her like she's quite mad.

"Excuse me?" She asks, in a tone that implies she worries her English is failing her.

"The bell captain- you were with him that night, at the party… snuck off in the middle of it, no one saw except me, of course, and…" She sees the girl is still looking lost, so she says, "Mr Dylan Sharp, formerly of the Leviathan?"

That gets her attention, though she still looks confused and a little wary. "You know Dylan?" She asks, carefully.

"Of course. We're good friends."

Lilit's brow furrows in a way that lets Adela know that no more lies will pass with this girl.

"And you seem to know him quite well," she says, pushing the conversations back to her.

Lilit's expression darkens and- colors? "We were acquainted when his ship came to Istanbul," she answers, emphasis on the last word.

Ah, of course. The actual subject of this interview. "Start there, then. That was around when the revolution kicked off, correct?"

"It's a very long story," Lilit began, looking irritated. "And you must have somewhere else to be- we scheduled this as a fifteen minute interview."

"I'll buy you lunch," Adela offers sweetly. "Tell me everything!"

Lilit's lips purse, and her eyes flick down to the menu. "Fine," she says, and Adela already knows she will be ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.

Completely worth it.