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i'm not passive but aggressive
[Fallen Hero series. Mid-Retribution, post Herald rooftop scene.]
[Chargestep implications; River Basri, Ricardo Ortega and Daniel Sullivan. 1450 words. Discussions of Heartbreak + death. (Kinda just dashed this one out in a flurry of inspo, apologies if it's not super clean!!)]
âOrtegaâŠâ
Daniel lingers in the doorway of Ricardoâs official office, looking for all the world like a wet puppy who just peed in the house.Â
Ricardo smiles. Heâll have to tell River that one later.
âWhatâs up?â he asks, because heâs not a complete asshole.Â
Daniel takes one step in. Starts hovering. Doesnât stop hovering until heâs close to Ricardoâs desk, which prompts Ricardo to lean back in his chair until it creaks, because â what? Why is their heroic little flyboy looking at him like that? Like heâs about to break the worst news of hisâ
Yeah, get out of that thought spiral before it begins. Jesus.
âWhat is it, Herald?â he asks again, harder this time.
The use of his hero name gets the boy back on the floor, at least. âI just feel like you should hear about what happened from meâŠfirstâŠâ
Nervousness and shame rolls off Daniel in waves so strong that Ricardo stands up. Heâs not sure how to make that sudden motion casual, and any attempt to seem cool about it clearly fails by the way Herald takes an immediate step back. Ricardo puts his hands up.
âWhat?â he asks, hoping confusion is more clear than annoyance. âDid something happen during therapy?â
âUm, so, I talked to River.â
Ricardo feels gravity pull him hard into the floor. âYes?
âAnd, IâŠI may have carried hertoarooftopwhereshefaintedandIâmreallysorryIdidnâteventhinkââ
âHey, woah, slow down.â
Daniel takes a breath. Eyes not meeting Ricardoâs. Face flushed red as a crack in the earth. âIâm sorry, I know I should have thought about it. I knowâI mean it makes perfect sense that she has trauma around heights because ofââ
Ricardo raises a hand. Keeps it flat. Get that tension out of your body before it starts tingling. Put the mask on. âStop. Start over. What the hell are you going on about?â
Daniel grounds himself. Feet squared, like heâs ready to be hit. Ricardo resists the urge to click his tongue. Easy to knock over; stance not wide enough. âWell, I know how you are aboutâŠher.â
A weight, thunked right into the gut. That spit-up glop of words, coming together slowly. A rooftop where she fainted. AâŠ
His heart twists, 180. Agony, right down to the gut.
âWhat did you do?â he manages to ask nicely.
Danielâs gaze sharpens. Confidence coming back, slow and then all at once like sunrise. âAt least give me a minute to explain myself before you punch me.â
Ricardoâs mouth twitches downward. He leans into his desk. Put the damn mask on. âFine.â
He can almost see the heroic effort Daniel makes not to roll his eyes at Ricardoâs too-serious tone. âFirst of all, you're not her keeper. But Iâm telling you now so everyone is on the same page and because I am sorry, okay?âÂ
He moves on too fast for Ricardo to snap back. He doesnât get to say that. He doesnât know how fragile this situation is â but then, even Ricardo is still left wondering, most days. He must not be playing his cards close enough to the chest if Daniel notices his concern.
âI wanted to talk to her about someâŠthings,â Daniel says. âSo I found her on the road and she said sheâd listen to me so IâŠpicked her upâŠand flew offâŠâ
The earlier glob of words suddenly becomes clear as day and just as fucking scorching. Ricardoâs fists clench. âGood god. Are you shitting me?â
âI know.â
Hands. Clenching. Reach, reach, reach. No. Stop. âNo you fucking donât, kidââ
"Don't start with that," he snaps. "This is the problem, okay?â
"Come off itâ"
"No, I mean the âno one telling me anythingâ crap! I had no idea she would react that wayââ
He can hear Riverâs voice in his head. Do you have a brain? âBecause, for damn starters, you arenât supposed to pick up civilians off the street!â
Daniel has the good sense to pause, at least. He sighs, frustrated, and holds his fingers to his temples. âIâŠknow.â
It takes some of the wind out of Ricardoâs sails, but not enough. âYou know how most people died during Heartbreak, donât you? You at least knew that? Did you know she threw herself out a fourth-story window?â
Danielâs gaze turns the poisonous kind of blue and he bites his lip but he stays quiet.
âThis is what happens when you donât fucking think, Daniel.â
âOh, thatâs rich.â
No. No. Let it go. Let the static in your veins justâŠgoâŠÂ
âIs she okay?â Ricardo grinds out.
Daniel nods a bit too fast, but his frown sticks like gum. âShe, um, recovered fast. But IâŠkind of wanted to ask you about that.â
âReally.â He needs to call her, he needs to fix this right now, right now before sheâÂ
His glare turns ice cold. âNewsflash, Ortega, you donât get to own all the rights to giving a shit about her.â
âSheâs not Sidestep anymore,â he says. âWhy do you care?â
Daniel steps back a half-step, eyes wide with shock. âJesus. I forget how much of a fucking asshole you are, sometimes.â
Got the kid to cuss. Thereâs that at least. Still. Youâre not a young roaring lion anymore, act like it. He puts his hands up. Truce. âSorry.â The words feel hollow but heâs fucking trying. âYouâre right. That was out of line.â
Some tension drains from Danielâs shoulders and settles right on Ortegaâs instead.
âIâm surprised you didnât get punched,â Ortega canât help but slip in.
âSomethingâs missing inside her. I donât know. Do you know what Iâm talking about?â
âDonât,â he snaps, because itâs cold. Itâs cold and it hurts like a bitch, hearing someone else say it. Hearing someone else see the ice behind her silver eyes. The sludge of terror and hate that prompts her whole body to freeze up moments before she screams in fury. Does she hate him? She would have the right. He wonders, every day.
âDo you even hear yourself?â Daniel asks, voice low. âShe thought you sent me after her. Maybe you should think about that.â
In answer, Ricardo slowly sits back down in his chair.
Sometimes Daniel is like the worst of Wei and himself rolled into one â smarter than youâd give him credit for, tactical about it, and absolutely unwilling to quit once heâs got the scent.
âSo she told you about Heartbreak,â Ricardo manages.
Daniel looks toward the window, squinting into the sun. âYeah. Not a lot, butâŠenough.â He turns back. His voice quiets. âHaveâŠdo youâŠâ
âWhat.â
âDo you think aboutâŠwhy they keep so much of it classified? From us?â
Ricardo leans back. âWhat did she say?â
âJustâŠâ Danielâs fingers fidget together. His eyes glance around the room. Too many ears. Hmm. âWell, to think about who knows what. And why that matters.â
Yeah. That does sound like River. Make the map, connect the dots, pick the decisive action. Even at her lowest. Of course thatâs what sheâd say.
âWe can talk about that later,â he says, gesturing broadly â vaguely to the cameras. He hopes Daniel is smart enough to pick up on that. âJustâŠdonât pull shit like that again, okay? Better yetâŠmaybe donât speak to her unless she talks to you first.â
âWell. About that.â
Ricardo tilts his head, jaw clenching. Donât think about her falling limp in the sky. Donât. Just donât touch it.
âShe agreed to, um. Help me train?â
HeâsâŠnot sure what to do with the weird pit that opens up in his gut. Is it jealousy? No, youâre too old for that. Anger? Worry? Confusion? Why is she training Daniel? Isnât she retired? What does she get out of that? Does she want back in the fold, just not sure how to go about it because of herâŠfamily situation? That would sound like her; she hated even the smell of imposition.
He files it all down into a smirk. Confidence. Youâre fine with this. You are. âGood luck with that. Maybe sheâll teach you how to use that big brain of yours.â
Daniel glares at him, though the heat isnât so stifling. âMaybe you should ask for lessons, too.â
âGood one.â
âWhatever.â A beat. The boy is still a professional to the core. âIf you need something, you know where to find me.â
Herald leaves.
Ortega turns to his phone. The big brick.
He wants to resist the impulse. She was just here.
But he canât. Heâs weak as shit. He knows this. Heâs a fool. Heâll call himself however many names he needs to in order to get over it and pick up the phone â because keeping her here, safe, protected, is more important than anything else.
Heâs not going to fail again because of some dumb kid.
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Forget Clarity of Description
               I often get stuck in this writing-mode in which the vision I have of whatâs happening is so vivid I just need everyone else to see it too. Iâve also seen this in a lot of other peopleâs work, when description goes on for paragraphs (or one large one), just listing things the character is experiencing.
               This stuff is important for you as the writer to know, but ultimately, making sure your readers are imagining the exact same thing as you is not the goal. Every reader is going to make the scene their own, theyâre never going to see exactly what you do, so what we should rather be aiming for is evoking emotion.
               Is the girl tall, blond, with striking blue eyes and rosy cheeks, wearing a pink vest and a white button-up shirt underneath, white shoes, and a black skirt?
               Or is the girl bobbing on her feet, her eyes alight, blond hair haloed around her face like a sunrise?
               The first example we can get a pretty clear image of what the girl looks like. The second one, we get her personality, what the narrator thinks of her (comparing her to sunshine!), a general âvibeâ. Same goes for other descriptions: places, situations, backstory or exposition can all evoke an emotion in readers, and thatâs what theyâre going to remember.
               It goes without saying, but tying in those physical details into description is still important. In the second example I still told readers the girl had blond hair, but those other details werenât as necessary as her personality, vibe, and the impression she left on our narrator. Balance is everything.
               I would much, much rather give a description that creates a strong emotional response but a confusing image, over one that gives a clear image and not much else. What are some descriptions that have stuck with you?
               Good luck!
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you bitches better hope that twitter doesnât actually die because that means that iâm going to be taking all of my excess random thoughts and putting them here instead of on my nice quiet locked account which means iâm going to be subjecting you to like 9-15 posts a day like âanyone else think young kyle machlachlan looks like a butch lesbianâ or âwhat if tony soprano was bisexualâ or âi have a mosquito biteâÂ
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âš My writing commissions are open! đ« See ToC » https://deathflares.carrd.co Apply here » https://forms.gle/r3dnrbCA3XFrq2G48 Form will be open until Nov. 24! Thank you for your interest. đ
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