"Don't go setting fires when there's nothing to burn."
A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
Tig Trager x Fem!OC...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Warnings: low-key trauma dumping but not *really*, smut <3 Usual SOA shit, too
The hook of dusk had failed to tempt Isla, now. She had no desire to immerse herself into the blackness, nor did she wish to bask in the vibrancy of nighttime that she usually adored.
She was too cold to admire the beauty, too wound-up to focus on the stars and stratus clouds dusting across the sky above Charming as the town settled down for the evening.
Too agitated to think straight.
She had been left alone, today.
Isla had been abandoned in a heartbeat, stranded at the very epicenter of her least favorite place in town before the day had really begun. And she was pissed.
It was an irritation that could have countered rage, actually. Nothing short of pure anger because she was perpetually riding that bitter, bitter high after chastising Clay and challenging Tig because she just wanted answers.
And attaining answers—using her spellbinding charm and cogency that she had inherited from both Chibs and Diane—was what she was good at, usually.
Isla could wrap just about anybody around her little finger, scrutinize them in the kindest, most wholesome way possible, and then gut them—so very sweetly—for the information in which she had sought to collect from the very start.
Gemma had always admired the way that she had the ability to remain so poised whilst, essentially, manipulating those around her, and Jax was just glad that Isla wasn't stupid enough to get too smug.
Because there was always that worry. With such information—power—came an almost overriding air of complacency that many often felt themselves wilt beneath. Fall victim to, perhaps.
She was not one of the few. Isla was wise enough to take notice, but even wiser not to recite whatever she had learned.
Though, with this issue, she was completely out of the loop.
Left deserted in the dark, just wondering why everybody seemed to rally around—with hidden agendas—while simultaneously declaring that they had no idea about the intricacies of the incident.
She trusted that she would become somewhat privy soon, however.
"Can I sit?" Jax asked, pointing to the empty space on the bench before her. He lifted a brow, pacing over. "Or are 'ya gonna spend the next ten minutes chewin' me out 'cus you're in a bitchy mood?"
She shrugged, mindlessly tapping ash into a beer bottle that had been left atop one of the picnic tables.
"Where'd you get to, today?"
"I took a walk." Isla mumbled, watching embers and flecks of black fall from her cigarette. "After Unser came in and Clay sent you all on your way, I took a walk and went—"
