Darya started to protest again but as she twisted in Logan’s grip, he found himself staring right into Darya’s bleary eyes, which widened as she realized how close they were standing.
Logan’s skin suddenly flared up with an intense heat that seared through his bones and his chest was so tight it felt as if it was going to explode. Darya’s gaze flicked to Logan’s lips and her own parted, ever so slightly. It was a tormentous reminder of that fleeting moment when Logan had not known the dark secrets she harbored, and she was just a girl, who was kind and lovely and maybe even liked him.
describe the handwriting of some of your ocs and tag seven people ((thank you @liarede for the tag, i LOVED your answers))
logan: the most chaotic handwriting you’ve ever seen. his hands cannot catch up with his thoughts. he strings his words in one long, indecipherable scrawl. some might even joke that it looks like doctors’ handwriting on prescription notes but logan’s words are only reserved for hasty grocery lists and cheerful notes to darya. his last letters always have a little flourish in the end - like trailing off the tail of a ‘g’ or looping a ‘l’ like a ribbon
darya: her letters are small and round, in clear precise strokes that emphasizes every vowel and consonant. she can write in many languages but her handwriting is the same irregardless of the different symbols - all looking like someone had typed it out of a computer. it always takes her a while to finish writing whatever she is writing because she always scans through her letters meticulously to make sure all are tidy and near.
valentin: big, blocky letters, almost laughable because even his handwriting is as bulky as him. he’s the kind of person who writes out their signature letter by letter when asked to sign his name. it’s almost a wonder that no one has attempted to forge his signature (but that might be due to the fact that most people think he’s dead but im sure that’s irrelevant...) he can also do those bubble fonts for cards and signs very well.
laurel: the first language she learned to write in is mandarin so the english words she write out tend to mimic the way mandarin characters are structured. the letters are all evenly spaced out and will give you a migraine if you read it for too long because they mostly look like just one long word. also, she dots her i’s too aggressively - any paper she writes on WILL have at least one puncture hole.
bruce: he has handwriting that is meant for poetry. his letters are thin and slanting, one can easily imagine they come from an old diary of an author, penning stories about high adventures and torment, or whatever romantic image one could think of. his g’s and y’s are always too long - if he’s writing on line paper, their tails will cut through the letters beneath them. he has really bad spelling, so anything he writes will be riddled with misplaced vowels and extra ‘l’s.
[tagging] @the-writers-blocks, @lady-redshield-writes, @agnodice-writes, @theforgottencoolkid, @marewriteblr, @hollie-writes, @disoriented-writer + anyone else who wants to do this! ( @foxredoryx)
‘ He could lie about his identity, fabricate aliases and stories until it one day crashed down on him like burdens too heavy to carry. Anything to avoid spitting out Bruce’s name aloud. ’
Rule: Share (or write) a scene where one of your POV characters sees another for the first time! Tagged by @practising-writer.
- or in other words, a good excuse for me to post an excerpt about Logan and Darya -
Considering other more humiliating and degrading circumstances, Logan guessed having a milkshake dumped on his lap wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.
"You know what? Have a nice life, Logan!" his date snapped, collecting up all her belongings in a huff. She looked up from her flurry of movement, eyes shining with anger. "And for the record, I always thought Bruce was hotter."
Ouch.
"Ava, wait –" Logan tried to chase after her but he almost slipped on the icy sludge around his feet. All he could do was watch as she stormed furiously out the diner, her heels clicking angrily on the tile floor.
Logan knew the entire diner was staring at the scene - he didn't have to look up to know that. The hail of stares that felt more like pointy arrows prickled too persistently to ignore. It took all his willpower not to melt on the spot, a hot blush burning beneath his skin and boiling his blood.
In a half-hearted attempt, he tried to wipe off the milkshake from his clothes while simultaneously tried to regain his dignity. So far, neither things seemed to be working out.
Logan knew he should have at saw this disaster scenario coming when Bruce insisted to play matchmaker. He wondered why he didn't refuse in the first place - his brother's eccentric nature and romance wasn't exactly a natural fit.
Amused by Logan's pathetic state, a child from the nearby booth pointed and laughed. Her parents made no move to shush her up.
"Oh, wow." A voice behind Logan said. Logan turned around a little too quickly and almost slid into the milkshake puddle again. "You, um, look like you need a little help."
It was the same waitress that had served Logan and his date earlier that evening. Logan remembered her distinctly because he had thought that her eyes looked like gemstones - colored in deep blue, like the bottom of the ocean, and yet flecked with bits of radiant green and aquamarine. The way she looked at Logan, with her lips pulled taut downwards, it was like she was trying to tuck away a smile. The glisten in her eyes was similar to precious rocks too.
"Thanks," Logan said, trying not to sound as dumb as he looked. She passed him fresh napkins and with one last humored look, ducked down to pick up the empty milkshake glass that had clattered to his feet. Before she disappeared under the table, Logan caught sight of her name tag pinned on her apron.
Darya. That was her name. When she glanced up again, Logan quickly looked away and started to dab the napkins unceremoniously on the front of his pants.
He guided all of his focus onto his task with unnecessary ferocity, pretending that he couldn't feel the cold remnants of his date's fury pool in his shoes and soak through his socks, which was super fun.
"Um, I think we have spare pants in the back," Darya said, trying not to glance down at Logan's wet clothes. He had to fight away another wave of embarrassment. "Would you like to change?"
"Yes," Logan answered weakly. "Yes, please."
This time, she could not contain her smile. It wasn't a mocking, amused look Logan was bracing himself for, but a sweet gesture that made something in him skip a beat like he was slipping on the milkshake again. Her smile was very pretty, Logan noted, the tips of her pink painted lips hooked upwards and revealing just a hint of her pearly teeth. Logan didn't know why but he felt its warmth wash over him like a gentle wave as if assuring him that there was nothing to worry about.
And at that moment, standing in a milkshake puddle and wet as a fish, Logan was almost tempted to believe her smile.
[taglist always open! also consider yall tagged for this]
the tag list is open. If you would like to be tagged in future tempest’s calling posts, you can reply on this post or message me!
GENRE
action/adventure
STATUS
first draft
DESCRIPTION
Logan Yang was an average person until the day his world collided with Darya Melikov’s, tangled in her web of lies and deceit.
Just like that, Logan’s adopted brother turned out to be a psychopath and in league with the Tempest Program - a project that sets about creating a serum that would enhance human strength and speed, producing mindless, brain-washed mercenaries that heeded every command from their leader, whoever it might be.
It was up to them to race against time and stop the Tempest Program from successfully producing this formidable weapon - no matter how reluctant they were to work together - before chaos would rain in insurmountable destruction. Before death come in waves and blood wash the streets by the Tempest’s calling.
EXCERPT
Before Logan could leave, Darya’s hand shot out to grab his. He stopped cold in his tracks, feeling the band of her ring press against his hand. Her palm was warm and clammy, but strangely fit perfectly in his
“Sorry.” she let go instantly. “I just wanted to tell you that you don’t have to leave just yet. I’ll bring over a fresh milkshake for the one that your date, uh, spilled. It’s on the house.”
Logan felt a giddy kind of warmth burst in his chest. “You don’t have to do that,” he protested half-heartedly.
“A small act of kindness goes a long way.” Darya shrugged. Logan’s lips tugged. “Plus, you were having a pretty crappy day.”
“It’s not that crappy now.”
Darya’s eyes widened. Her gaze searched Logan for any false signals but when she detected none, she stepped a little closer. Logan found himself very aware of the distance between them, which was close enough for the toe of her sneakers to nudge his. He tried to ignore the thrumming in his blood.
“My shift ends in an hour,” Darya said. Up close, he could see her eyes really did look like sapphires. “If you wait for a little while, we can go grab a bite together. I noticed you didn’t even touch your food during your date anyways.”
“You’re observant,” Logan smirked.
“I’m just aware of things, is all.”
They both shared a smile.
“Okay, I’ll wait,” Logan agreed. Darya’s eyes lit up and now they looked like stars. “I’ve got nowhere better to go.”
“Great.” Darya backed away. “It’s a date.”
+ + +
She slipped back behind the counter, straightening her apron over her dress. The only two staff members – the cook who always had a can of beer next to his frying pan and the other waitress who was barely old enough to drink – did not notice her disappearance.
They didn’t notice a lot of things.
Out of their field vision, she thumbed the gun strapped to her thigh, hidden out of slight by the skirt’s flowy material.
She released a deep breath and fixed a smile on her face.
“One milkshake,” she said to the cook. The gun pressed cold against her skin. “Strawberry.”
Darya bit down hard on her lip as she forced herself to concentrate on the simple task of scrubbing her hands. The water in the sink was already running clean but she kept washing, her fingers numb under the relentless icy stream.
It was a mission, and she knew that, more often than not, missions go awry. Things didn’t turn out the way it was supposed to. But this particular night, it had felt as if all the odds were stacked against her. Darya’s task was simple – to extract a CRUX asset from enemy base. It was supposed to be easy, in and out, but Darya didn’t expect that many people.
One paranoid shot from security led to another, and Darya had found herself wielding her own gun. She had aimed for the red fire alarm casing, a momentary distraction she could have used to her advantage. But Darya missed.
The soap clenched in Darya’s hands shot out of her grip with a pop and she dazedly watched the white lather get washed off. The hem of her top was drenched.
Darya thought she would have gotten used to screams by then, but she always surprised herself. The echo of the girl’s howl of agony as Darya’s bullet ripped through the side of her neck rang in Darya’s ear. Anguished. Unexpected. She was innocent, and Darya had hurt her. Darya could see the girl’s blood on her own bathroom tiles.
Outside the partially shut door, the front door’s knob clicked open. Darya lifted her head to see Logan come into the apartment through the thin gap. His hair was disheveled from the wind and his trench coat was stained with paint, as usual. Darya tried to turn off the tap but she felt frozen still, nailed down to the ground. Her muscles felt stiff, and were starting to cramp. She still couldn’t stop washing the memory off of her.
“Hey,” Logan’s voice grew louder as he discarded his art bag and followed the noise of running water. “What are you doing back here? I need to use the showe–”
The barrier between Darya and the world was thrown back and she almost felt like she couldn’t breathe. Logan’s face sobered up immediately at the sight of Darya, half-hunching over the sink, her hands submerged in spilling water and her eyes puffy and red with tears she couldn’t shed. A sound escaped Darya’s parched lips, a soft, helpless moan that made her crumble to her knees.
“Darya!” Logan scrambled towards her, arms outstretched to catch her suddenly limp body. His arms were around her shoulders, propping Darya upright in a gentle embrace as she melted against him on the wet floor. She was shaking like a leaf caught in autumn.
“Something happened?” Logan asked in a harsh whisper as Darya tried to choke through tearless sobs that arrested her breaths. He pressed his face against her head, firm. “Did something happen? Darya, what is it?”
Darya made another guttural noise. “I didn’t mean to shoot her,” she gagged out. Another shudder took over, leaving her gasping against Logan’s shoulder. He rubbed a warm hand against her spine in slow circles, although it felt more apprehensive than his last reassurance.
“It’s not your fault,” Logan said quietly nevertheless. His arms tightened around Darya, as if he was trying to squeeze all the anxious trembling out of her. “Mistakes happen. You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your fault.”
Darya angled her face upwards, desperate to catch the words on Logan’s lips before it even left. Her hand, shaking, pulled at Logan’s collar to bring his mouth to hers, warm, and tasted a little less like metal and black leather. He gathered her closer, with a murmur between every kiss. It’s not your fault, he whispered. It’s not your fault.
Darya still didn’t believe the mantra, but for the time being, she would just listen to it until she fooled herself.
