#Sara 01

[wakeonthesand]

Joe drew in a deep breath, the air thick with the smell of dust and damp earth. His chest felt tight, and it took three gasping inhales before he sputtered and coughed, filling his lungs.

It was something he never thought he'd do again.

The jig was up. He wasn't picked during the Main Game and his fate had been sealed. He remembered telling everyone to work together to escape. He remembered telling Sara he loved her. He remembered pain. The persistent sound of something clicking. So where was he now? He was in the dark...well, almost. A cool blue light shone through a thin clay slab suspended above him. It was a cramped space.

Huh? No way...a coffin?

He reached up towards the opening, picking at it once he remembered how to move his fingers. The slab was flimsy and started deteriorating, crumbling on top of his torso. He covered his face and continued pushing debris until he could sit up and surround himself with the brisk night air. He looked around him curiously-- He was in a small room with bones piled in the corner and pillars rising to touch the damaged ceiling. Joe wanted out of here, and fast. He pushed the slab further down and listened as shards splintered to the floor.

He turned toward the entrance of this mausoleum, swinging his leg over the coffin's base and staring out into the fog. He swears he can hear twigs breaking nearby, and he can see a hazy figure approaching. A bright blue coat, and orange-brown hair. Maybe he's just imagining it.

"Yo...!! Sara! Saraaaaa! Is that you?! Wait up--"

He jolts forward, afraid if he doesn't chase her shadow that she might disappear--and immediately topples to the floor.

[sunsage]

@kujoutengu liked for a starter!

Spring time meant there was finally a chance for him to plant the seeds Sun gifted him during winter outside. There is little space in front of the house, but it's just enough for him to get started, digging out small holes and putting the little sprouts he cultivated in them.

He didn't exactly expect an audience though.

"From what I've heard, it's common to say 'take a picture, it will last longer' when someone stares at you, but I'm really not a fan of photos if I'm being honest. So, you want to help or something?"

[eternalrecurrxnce]

"Solstice! Now!"

With the command in place, the Spiramon leaped towards the Ofiucotot trying to get away; using a blast of Winter's Breath to keep it in place. The blizzard rushing from its mouth crystalized around the tiny android, causing it to fall over; no longer able to make an escape.

As if happy with itself, Solstice picked up the tiny robot, trotting over to its master as it purred happily. As Richter reached down to pet its head, retrieving the Ofiucotot from its jaws, the cool blue colour of their aura began to change; easing back into its natural green.

"That's one of.. many," however, it seemed their victory would only be temporary; the daunting thought of how much more they needed to catch causing a sigh to escape his lips. Placing the android in the pouch he was given, he passed his apparent partner a glance.

"I saw a group of them traversing through the tunnel up ahead-- that should be where we head to next. However, the ground here seems rather unstable; we'll have to avoid rushing through to the best of our ability."

– ☼☽;   ( @kujoutengu ) 

[hollygl125]

CSI | Sara Sidle + Gil Grissom | Season 01 Insp.

[dailysarachidouin]

DAY ONE: BLOG ICON!!

[ID: A colored digital drawing of Sara Chidouin from Your Turn To Die, shown from the chest up and smiling. Along with a star earring, she is wearing her school uniform, edited to have a yellow streak embroidered on the blazer's cuffs and lapels. A dark purple cat keychain sits in her breast pocket, and she wears a multicolored bracelet with blue, green, yellow, and purple beads, as well as a half heart charm with an "S" drawn onto it. She also wears a necklace, the design of which not pictured. Sara throws up a peace sign, exposing two of her nails, which are painted blue and purple respectively. The background is yellow with purple star outlines expanding outward. End ID.]

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

Ian entered the tavern, his eyes scanning the room for Sara. He had a habit of seeking her out these days, finding any excuse to talk to her. He spotted her immediately, standing at the bar with her back to him. But his excitement quickly faded when she turned around, revealing her battered face. Her eye was swollen shut, and her lip was split.

He rushed to her side, his heart sinking at the sight of her injuries. "Sara! What happened?" he asked, gently cupping her chin to examine her face more closely.

One moment she was busy weaving in between tables and patrons and the next there was a firm but surprisingly gently set of fingers tilting her head up to look into familiar blue eyes. Sara's cheeks flushed at being caught off guard, then doubly so for not realizing the of course the first thing Ian would notice was the massive shiner she'd gotten in the days since they'd last spoken. "Ian! You're a sight for sore eyes, pun intended."

She winked at him with her good eye, determined to keep the mood light despite the immediate questioning. "I would love to chat but I'm a little busy right now…"

Sara cast a nervous glance towards where her boss was seated at a table towards the back, watching the interactions among the patrons and employees alike. She didn't want to deal with the consequences of him accusing her of slacking. "Perhaps you could walk me home this evening? We can talk about it then?"

Ian's eyes softened at her attempt at humor, though his concern grew more intense at her nervous glance towards her boss. He looked over at the man himself, his gaze icy as he took in the other man's watchful demeanor.

He turned his attention back to Sara, his grip on her chin becoming slightly protective. "Aye, I'll walk ye home tonight. Ye can tell me then. But… Sara…" He paused, his thumb gently tracing the edge of her split lip. "Who did this to ye?”

She resisted the urge to pull away and instead brought one of her hands up to circle her fingers around Ian's wrist. Sara could feel his pulse thrumming under the thin skin there and she tried not to shiver at the contact. Instead she merely whispered, "Later. Ian. I promise." And hurried off to serve the rest of the tavern.

It was hard to work the rest of the day knowing that she would be seeing him again as soon as it was over. Anxious butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she once again thought about what she had to ask him…The short and curvy woman wrapped the woven shawl around herself and stepped out into the evening air.

Her eyes scanned the street until they landed on his. A smile broke out across her face as she saw him, unable to contain it even as the expression pulled on the swollen skin of her face. She took a few steps forward to meet him half way. "Thank you for walking me home…I know you have questions."

Ian was already striding toward her the moment he laid eyes on her, his steps quick and purposeful.

Sara's smile, even through the signs of her injury, was enough to soothe some of his worry. But his jaw clenched and his fists still curled by his sides as he came to stand before her.

"Aye, I have questions," he replied, his voice low and gruff. He paused, his gaze sweeping over her face once more before he asked, "Who did this, Sara? Was it yer boss?”

When Ian immediately jumped into wanting answers she reached out to gently wrap a hand around his elbow and lead him down the street and away from the tavern. She planned on being honest with him and the last thing she wanted was him rushing off somewhere to defend her honor or something. Sara needed to be able to ask him something important first. Once she was satisfied they were far enough away, she turned toward Ian and looked down at her feet. Her walking pace slowed to an almost stop.

"There's a patron at the tavern-- a wealthy one, who wants my hand." She began. "I have no male relatives, so he asked my employer for permission…"

Ian's stride matched hers, his eyes never leaving her face. Every muscle in his body tensed when she said she was being pursued by a wealthy patron. He found himself clenching his jaw so hard that it ached as he fought the urge to go back to the tavern and deal with this man directly.

But he stayed quiet, listening intently as she explained the situation. "And yer employer agreed?" he managed to grit out through clenched teeth.

"Oh, he was thrilled." Her tone was bitter and her fingers tightened their grip on his elbow without meaning to. Most days she was able to forget just how different things were in this time-- until a man asked her boss to basically buy her. With a heavy sigh she released Ian's arm to pull her shawl tighter around herself, more for security than because she was cold.

"I told him there was no way in hell I was marrying that stinky old bastard."

Ian's arm prickled with gooseflesh where her fingertips had been, and he had to resist the urge to pull her back. His anger flared hotter, knowing her employer saw her as a mere commodity to sell, rather than a person.

"Aye, we're in agreement there," he said gruffly, his voice a low growl. "But what about the black eye an' swollen lip? How'd ye get those?" He raised a hand, gently touching his thumb to the swelling below the bruised eye.

Sara had been looking at how the sky was bathed in pinks and purple and blue as the sun began to set over the trees and mountains off in the distance, momentarily distracted by the wonder that was colonial America. The stars were so much brighter here than in her own time. Ian's thumb eclipsed the periphery of her vision and Sara resisted the urge to flinch out of self defense. Immediate guilt and embarrassment ran hot through her and she cleared her throat, forcing a humorless chuckle. "Sorry, I guess I'm still a little jumpy."

It was harder than she expected to actually admit to the physical assault, it broke a little bit of her pride that someone had been allowed - within his rights even, to treat her that way. "I may have also called him some not very nice names. The man has a temper and I was tired of trying to be…diplomatic, you see."

Ian noticed the way she flinched, the guilt in her chuckle, and his anger flared again. He knew she was proud, strong, independent - he respected that. But she was not the type to be cowed, and it made his blood boil to think of some rich prick putting his hands on her.

"No amount o' wealth gives a man the right to lay his hands on a woman," he said, his eyes hard. "Ye're a bonny lass, Sara. I understand why ye'd have admirers. But that…that's inexcusable.”

"I'm glad you think so." They were getting closer and closer to the women's boarding house that she was staying at, a small inn like establishment for the unmarried women and single mothers not yet forced to sell themselves in order to keep food on the table. It was a small blessing considering that she lacked most knowledge that women in this time were expected to know. It gave her the opportunity to learn without obvious suspicion.

But the closer they got to her living arrangements, the more she was running out of time. Sara paused walked and turned to Ian. "That brings me to what I wanted to speak with you about."

Ian's pace slowed to match hers as they neared her boarding house, his hands still clenched at his sides. His thoughts still dwelled on the man who had struck her, the anger still pulsing hot through his veins.

But as she paused mid-stride, he halted as well, turning to face her fully. He met her gaze, his own gaze intense and questioning. "Aye? What is it, Sara?" he asked.

"During our dispute," It was a struggle to keep the emotion out of her voice. If she thought about the night too long she could still feel the threatening heat of him looming over her, the surprise when he'd pulled back a clenched fist and-- "He made it known that if I refused this offer and embarrassed him, I would lose my employment."

The cruel thing was she would lose the job either way. If she agreed to marry the man then at least Sara would be guaranteed a roof over her head, but she would never know happiness or peace. If she refused him as she intended-- she would be a penniless beggar before the summer's end.

"So I came up with a plan. Ian…" She looked up at him with a mix of hopelessness and desperation. "Will you…would you, um….Marry me?”

Ian's heart skipped a beat as the words left her lips. For a moment, he stood there in stunned silence, his brain struggling to comprehend what she had just asked.

Marry her?

The thought sent an unexpected thrill through his body, but at the same time, the idea of Sara marrying out of necessity - to avoid abuse and destitution - made his stomach churn.

He reached out, grasping her elbow firmly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. "Sara, ye canna be serious. Ye want to marry me…because ye have no other option?”

Her own dark brown eyes widened at the question and she nearly jerked her arm away. Is that what he thought of her? That she would just throw herself at anyone in order to solver her problems? She took a step away from him and her voice raised a bit with mild scandal. "What? No!"

Sara forced a calming breath through her nose and exhaled in a deep controlled sigh. It wasn't his fault for assuming that. She hadn't explained herself well enough. "No, Ian, I asked you because I…care for you. I've more fondness for you in my little finger than this entire fucking county put together."

If it were up to her she would have allowed their friendship to bloom further, maybe even turn into a true courtship -- but that option had been taken from her. "You're right, I do have to find someone out of necessity but…"

Ian's eyes widened in surprise at her outburst, his grip on her elbow loosening as he stepped back, giving her space. His heart tightened. Had he just insulted her? Assumed she wasn't serious?

But then she continued speaking, and his heart thumped again at her words. "Fondness" and "care" weren't love words, but right now he had to remind himself that that was okay. This wasn't about love. It was about saving her from a fate worse than hell.

He stepped closer, his voice gruff. "Ye care for me, do ye?”

She searched his face, trying to tell if his question was going to lead to a future rejection. Already her heart was in her throat and she wished he would just give her an answer, just put her out of her misery so she could know whether or not her future was truly lost. "I thought that much was obvious? Ian, I wouldn't have even bothered asking if I didn't care-- though perhaps if I really cared I wouldn't be trying to drag you into my unfortunate predicament."

The sun had almost set now and she was running out of time. The last thing she needed was a reprimand for breaking curfew on top of everything. Sara wrung her hands nervously. "Look, just tell me if you're not interested…I'll understand. We can even still keep our friendship, though that may be a little hard to do.."

Ian's heart pounded, his mind racing. Part of him desperately wanted to say yes, to take her in his arms and shield her from everything. But he knew it wasn't that simple. He knew she knew it wasn't that simple.

But the thought of her marrying some repulsive old bastard sent anger coursing through him like fire.

"Of course I care for ye, Sara." His voice was rough, his expression almost pained. "But ye're asking me to marry ye, to marry you, on a whim, only because you have no other choice…”

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I…I willna let ye live on the streets, or become someone's property. If ye're set on this, I will keep ye safe. But it'll be a marriage in name only, do ye understand? I wouldna ask ye to be a wife in all the ways a man expects a wife to be.”

His words sent a pang of sadness through her heart but she valiantly kept it from showing on her face. Instead, a wide, relieved smile spread across her expression and tugged painfully at her split lip. But she didn't care. She took one of Ian's large freckled hands in both of hers, pulling him forward so that he was only a few inches away. It probably looked inappropriate to the average passerby but she didn't care about that either. Only the mix of happiness and relief that rushed through her.

"I understand. And I wouldn't stop you from…seeing other people. If you wanted to." The words tasted like sand in her mouth but he was already doing such a big favor for her-- she couldn't deny him a chance at happiness as well.

"Do you really agree to this, Ian? Truly?" She couldn't help the blatant hope that slipped into her tone.

Ian's eyes darkened as she spoke, taking in her words with conflicted emotions.

See other people. The thought of her knowing he was with another woman made his stomach twist uncomfortably, but he reminded himself that they weren't marrying out of love. It was a transaction, a deal. Nothing more.

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening on her hands. "Aye, I agree. But I have two conditions.”

"First, no one can know the truth of our marriage. Our families, our friends, they must all believe it is a true union."

He paused, his eyes locking onto hers. "And second, once ye're no longer in danger…once ye're safe….ye leave, and find some honest man to marry. I wona rob ye of the chance at a real family and happiness.”

His words made sense. She could only imagine how his family might react to finding out she had coerced him into a marriage. Already she had an endless pit of guilt forming in her stomach over the arrangement. And yet here he was, trying to make sure she would still be able to have a piece of her own happiness. It made Sara's heart swell with affection that she quickly reined in. She squeezed his hand and rocked back on her heels in barely contained excitement.

"I agree to your terms, Ian Murray. So if you'll have me…I would be honored to be your wife.

Ian's heart fluttered in his chest at her words, but he forced himself to remain calm. This was a business arrangement. Nothing more. But he still felt a pang of guilt when he thought about the fact she would never know the love of a husband.

He nodded curtly. "Then, Sara, we have a deal."

He released her hands, his face stoic and emotionless. "When is the old bastard expecting an answer?”

The night air felt colder than it had before with the absence of his hand I hers but she pushed the feeling away. Instead she pushed some of her long dark hair away from her face, the bruise not nearly as obvious in the low light as it had been earlier. Though the scab on the cut that her split was a dark line against the otherwise smooth skin there.

Now that they had that settled, she began walking back to the boarding house, taking Ian's elbow in her hand as they walked with a casual ease. "He gave me until the end of the week to change my mind…I suppose it would only be fair to give you the same amount of time…to change your mind.."

She hated the thought but refused to trap him more than she already was.

Ian's jaw clenched as she mentioned the deadline, and he nodded stiffly. "Aye, the end of the week, then."

He walked alongside her, his steps in sync with hers. For a few moments, they walked in silence, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath their feet.

Finally, he broke the quiet. "Can I ask ye one more thing?”

His gruff tone was tempered with a hint of hesitation, as though he wasn't sure he should ask her the question that had been dancing on the tip of his tongue. He stopped in his tracks, forcing her to stop as well.

"Why are ye in this situation, Sara?" he asked, his eyes fixed on hers. "Why do ye have no one else to turn to?”

She had always been so careful about avoiding talking about her past or family, now she had put herself in a situation where coming up with some kind of story was necessary. Sara looked down as she answered Ian, not a trace of a lie in her features. "I'm an only child and my parents are…gone. Recently."

The emotion blocking her throat was real enough. Her parents were centuries in the future-- her whole family was. But that was something she could never tell anyone.

"I have no other family in the country, and I'm not sure if you've noticed but I can be rather…abrasive. Not exactly what many want in a wife."

Ian's expression softened as he listened to her answer, his initial suspicion giving way to a flicker of compassion. As she explained her past, he couldn't help but think of his own losses, and how isolated she must feel without family around her.

His eyes narrowed as she joked about being "abrasive." "Ye're no' that bad," he grumbled. "Just a bit…loud.”

He began walking again, falling into step beside her. "What about friends? A lover?"

The question was out before he could stop it, and he winced inwardly, wondering where the hell it had come from. It was none of his business, he reminded himself sternly.

"No. I spend most of my time working or alone." She couldn't afford to let anyone get too close. Already she was worried about how she would keep the truth of her past hidden from Ian. He was a kind, surprisingly progressive man but she couldn't fathom him understanding something like her being from a different time. They stopped walking a few feet away from the creaky wooden steps that let up to the boarding house. She could practically feel the eyes of nosy spinsters peaking out at them from behind their curtains, looking for any kind of gossip.

"I suppose this is where we say goodnight…I think you should take a couple days to think about this-- make sure it's what you want. If it is, then I will tell my employer at the week's end." She went to bite her bottom lip and winced when the swollen, cracked skin protested.

Ian's chest tightened as she confirmed she had no one. He knew all too well how lonely life could be without those who cared about you, how it felt to carry burdens alone. He wanted to reach out, to offer some comfort, but he knew it wasn't his place. This was just a business arrangement, not a real marriage.

He studied her, feeling conflicted. "Aye, I'll think about it. And Sara…" He hesitated, his eyes drifting to her injured lip. He wanted to throttle the bastard who had done this to her.

"Take care of your…injury," he said gruffly, his gaze lingering on the swollen lip. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to reach out and touch it gently, to reassure her that everything would be alright.

He took a step back, his eyes locking with hers one final time. "I'll find ye before the week ends. I'll give ye my answer then.”

[kmadrigalsoto]

❛ ☾ ◟━ LOCATION: bubble time

❛ ☾ ◟━ TIME: afternoon

❛ ☾ ◟━ STATUS: closed for @sarayoonc

Gently pinching Hanbin's cheeks, Kimberly couldn't help but coo out praises of how adorable he is while they waited for their bobba orders. "As I was saying, bobba is the key to a lot of cute people's hearts. If they don't like bobba..." She paused the heiress chose her words carefully, "Then that's bad and sad at the same time...They could still be cute, but I wouldn't trust them if I were yo—" Before she could even finish her sentence, their order number was called and Kimberly immediately walked over to get them before returning to Sara and Hanbin's side.

Stabbing the straw into his drink, she slid the cup over to Hanbin, before handing over Sara's drink. "Enjoy!" Kimberly then turned to her best friend and grinned, "That's a good lesson right? I was going to say ugly, but that seemed to harsh. Besides, what was that saying? 'I don't chase, I attract'...Yeah, there's no way this little bundle of joy is going to attract ugly people." Taking a sip of her drink, she then gently bumped shoulders with Sara and asked, "Thank you for hanging out with me today. How's everything with you?"

[jemmaxlawson]

closed starter for @sarayoonc

Today was a slow day. Jemma hated slow days because then the time would pass slower than usual but she'd recently found use of such days. She loved the spring time because there was a variety of textures and taste to choose from. She was just finishing brewing a new blend, the air filled with lavender scent, when she heard the small bell ring. She turned to see a familiar face, making her grin. "Come in!" She gestured for Sara to step in and get closer. "Would you like to try this new blend I'm working on? I'm thinking it may be a perfect fit for Mahi's opening night at Soundwave."

[ariyacl]

closed starter @sarayoonc

Her eyes were on her friend as she watched Sara attempt to balance on the surfboard, despite wobbling precariously. "You're doing great, Sara. Remember to keep your knees bent and your arms out for balance," she called out encouragingly. The day was nice as sand shifted beneath Ariya's feet as she waded deeper into the water, keeping a watchful eye on her friend. "Don't worry if you fall off, it's all part of the learning process. Just keep trying and you'll get the hang of it in no time!" Surfing was not for the faint of heart. Ironic considering her failing heart years back, but still, it her words were earnest.

[aartiyooncastillo]

closed starter @sarayoon

After a long week, all Aarti wanted to do was spend her Friday night with Sara and Binnie. The two were her happy pills, and since family was such an important part of her life, it was no surprise that she would want to spend as much of her free time with them as possible. As soon as she let herself inside her sister’s home, she got her cuddles and kisses from Binnie before following the aroma of food being cooked—leading her straight to the kitchen. “I've missed you and that smells amazing.” She said, giving Sara a side hug and a cheek kiss. 

Aarti leaned over the pot, inhaling the aroma of her baby sister’s cooking. "Not trying to rush you or anything, but are you about done yet?" She asked, grabbing a fork and snagging a piece from the pot and popping it into her mouth. "Mmm… You really are a boss in the kitchen, you know that? Who needs to go to a restaurant, when I could bug you to make me dinner?" 

Hopping off the counter before she could get smacked, she went to set the table—grabbing plates and cutleries. "I'm so glad we could do this tonight. I’ve had such a long week." Aarti called over her shoulder. "You won't believe the investigative piece my boss assigned me today. There have been concerning reports coming out of a nearby town about tainted water supplies. He wanted me to go there undercover to gather information and expose what's really happening. Can you imagine us living in America and still having to worry about possibly getting sick from tainted water?"

[purewhitedevil]

starter - @kujoutengu

Somewhere around one of the mausoleums around the Great Tomb lies a group of workers with a leaf-theme. An old man and a group of young men around armed with different kinds of weapons, making it a balanced role of a fighter, thief and what not.

Instead, Albedo and Sara stands beneath them.

"I recommend to use everything you got. They may look weak but they know what they're doing." This was supposed to be where the Pleiades and the Guarders pincering them but instead, it's her and the other against the invaders of the large misty tomb.

[laylcsaxena]

closed starter @sarayoonc

After taking her seat, Layla stared the blank canvas before her, while the room buzzed with chatter and laughter as people settled in. Glancing at the woman beside her, she smiled. "Hi there, I'm Layla. Is this your first time at one of these?" She said, trying to break the ice. It wasn't like anyone was expecting a masterpiece, but still, the pressure was on. At least there was wine, right? That should help to loosen up the creative juices. Or maybe it would just make her brushstrokes more erratic. Either way, it was bound to be an interesting evening. 

[fictionstudent]

How to pull off descriptions

New authors always describe the scene and place every object on the stage before they press the play button of their novels. And I feel that it happens because we live in a world filled with visual media like comics and films, which heavily influence our prose.

In visual media, it’s really easy to set the scene—you just show where every object is, doesn’t matter if they’re a part of the action about to come or not. But prose is quite different from comics and films. You can’t just set the scene and expect the reader to wait for you to start action of the novel. You just begin the scene with action, making sure your reader is glued to the page.

And now that begs the question—if not at the beginning, where do you describe the scene? Am I saying you should not use descriptions and details at all? Hell naw! I’m just saying the way you’re doing it is wrong—there’s a smarter way to pull off descriptions. And I’m here to teach that to you.

***

#01 - What are descriptions?

Let’s start with the basics—what are descriptions? How do you define descriptions? Or details, for that matter? And what do the words include?

Descriptions refer to… descriptions. It’s that part of your prose where you’re not describing something—the appearance of an object, perhaps. Mostly, we mean scene-descriptions when we use the term, but descriptions are more than just scene-descriptions.

Descriptions include appearances of characters too. Let’s call that character-descriptions.

Both scene-descriptions and character-descriptions are forms of descriptions that we regularly use in our prose. We mostly use them at the beginning of the scene—just out of habit.

Authors, especially the newer ones, feel that they need to describe each and every nook and cranny of the place or character so they can be visualized clearly by their readers, right as the authors themselves visualized them. And they do that at the start of the scene because how can you visualize a scene when you don’t know how the scene looks first.

And that’s why your prose is filled with how the clouds look or what lights are on the room before you even start with the dialogues and action. But the first paragraph doesn’t need to be a simple scene-description—it makes your prose formulaic and predictable. And boring. Let me help you with this.

***

#02 - Get in your narrator’s head

The prose may have many MCs, but a piece of prose only has a single narrator. And these days, that’s mostly one of the characters of your story. Who uses third-person omniscient narrator these days anyway? If that’s you, change your habits.

Anyway, know your narrator. Flesh out their character. And then internalize them—their speech and stuff like that. Internalize your narrator to such an extent that you can write prose from their point-of-view.

Now, I don’t mean to say that only your narrator should be at the center of the scene—far from it. What I mean is you should get into your narrator’s head.

You do not describe a scene from the eyes of the author—you—but from the eyes of the narrator. You see from their eyes, and understand what they’re noticing. And then you write that.

Start your scene with what the narrator is looking at.

For example,

The dark clouds had covered the sky that day. The whole classroom was in shades of gray—quite unusual for someone like Sara who was used to the sun. She felt the gloom the day had brought with it—the gloom that no one else in her class knew of.

She never had happy times under the clouds like that. Rain made her sad. Rain made her yearn for something she couldn’t put into words. What was it that she was living for? Money? Happiness?

As she stared at the sky through the window, she was lost in her own quiet little corner. Both money and happiness—and even everything else—were temporary. All of it would leave her one day, then come back, then leave, then come back, like the waves of an ocean far away from any human civilization in sight.

All of it would come and go—like rain, it’d fall on her, like rain, it’d evaporate without proof.

And suddenly, drops of water began hitting the window.

You know it was a cloudy day, where it could rain anytime soon. You know that for other students, it didn’t really matter, but Sara felt really depressed because of the weather that day. You know Sara was at the corner, dealing with her emotions alone.

It’s far better than this,

The dark clouds covered the sky that day. It could rain anytime soon.

From her seat at the corner of the room, Sara stared at the sky that made everything gray that day. She…

The main reason it doesn’t work is that you describe the scene in the first paragraph, but it’s devoid of any emotions. Of any flavor. It’s like a factual weather report of the day. That’s what you don’t want to do—write descriptions in a factual tone.

If you want to pull off the prior one, get to your narrator’s head. See from their eyes, think from their brain. Understand what they’re experiencing, and then write that experience from their POV.

Sara didn’t care what everyone was wearing—they were all probably in their school uniforms, obviously, so I didn’t describe that. Sara didn’t focus on how big the classroom was, or how filled, or what everybody was doing. Sara was just looking at the clouds and the clouds alone, hearing everybody just living their normal days, so I mentioned just those things.

As the author, you need to understand that only you, the author are the know-it-all about the scene, not your narrator. And that you’re different from your narrator.

Write as a narrator, not as an author.

***

#03 - Filler Words

This brings me to filler words. Now, hearing my advice, you might start writing something like this,

Sarah noticed the dark clouds through the window. She saw that they’d saturated the place gray.

Fillers words like “see”, “notice”, “stare”, “hear” should be ignored. But many authors who begin writing from the POV of the characters start using these verbs to describe what the character is experiencing.

But remember, the character is not cognizant of the fact that they’re seeing a dark cloud, just that it’s a dark cloud. You don’t need these filler words—straight up describe what the character is seeing, instead of describing that the character is seeing.

Just write,

There were dark clouds on the other end of the window, which saturated the place gray.

Sarah is still seeing the clouds, yeah. But we’re looking from her eyes, and her eyes ain’t noticing that she’s noticing the clouds.

It’s kinda confusing, but it’s an important mistake to avoid. Filler words can really make your writing sound more amateurish than before and take away the experience of the reader, because the reader wants to see through the narrator’s eyes, not that the narrator is seeing.

***

#04 - Characters

Character-descriptions are a lot harder to pull off than scene-descriptions. Because it’s really confusing to know when to describe them, their clothing, their appearances, and what to tell and what not to.

For characters, you can give a full description of their looks. Keep it concise and clear, so that your readers can get a pretty good idea of the character with so few words that they don’t notice you’ve stopped action for a while.

Or can show your narrator scanning the character, and what they noticed about them.

Both these two tricks only work when a character is shown first time to the readers. After that, you don’t really talk about their clothing or face anymore.

Until there’s something out of the ordinary about your character.

What do I mean by that? See, you’ve described the face and clothes of the character, and the next time they appear, the reader is gonna imagine the character in a similar set of clothes, with the same face and appearance that they had the first time. Therefore, any time other than the first, you don’t go into detail about the character again. But, if something about your character is out of ordinary—there are bruises on their face, scars, or a change in the way they dress—describe it to the reader. That’s because your narrator may notice these little changes.

***

#05 - Clothing

Clothing is a special case. Some new authors describe the clothes of the characters when they’re describing the character every time the reader sees them. So, I wanna help you with this.

Clothing can be a way to show something about your character—a character with a well-ironed business suit is gonna be different from a character with tight jeans and baggy t-shirt. Therefore, only use clothing to tell something unique about the character.

Refrain from describing the clothing of characters that dress like most others. Like, in a school, it’s obvious that all characters are wearing school uniforms. Also, a normal teenage boy may wear t-shirts and denim jeans. If your character is this, no need to describe their clothing—anything the reader would be imagining is fine.

Refrain from describing the clothing of one-dimensional side-characters—there’s a high chance you’ve not really created them well enough that they have clothing that differs from the expectations of the readers. We all know what waiters wear, or what a college guy who was just passing by in the scene would be wearing.

You may describe the clothing of the important character in the story, but only in the first appearance. After that, describe their clothes only if the clothes seem really, really different from the first time. And stop describing their clothes if you’ve set your character well enough in the story that your readers know what to expect from them in normal circumstances—then, describe clothes only when they’re really, really different from their usual forms of clothing.

***

#06 - Conclusion

I think there was so much I had to say in this article, but I didn’t do a good job. However, I said all that I wanted to say. I hope you guys liked the article and it helps you in one way or the other.

And please subscribe if you want more articles like this straight in your inbox!

[marimelwrites]

@proverbialsaints - continued from your reply to my open starter HERE!

For a moment Maddox tried to wrack his brain and attempt to remember who this woman was. He couldn't recognize her from any thing in the past, which made him question whether or not he was that selfish that he hadn't noticed, or whether she was actually new. It didn't matter either way, as he had every intention to see her safely home. It was essential that nobody get hurt on his watch. He might have a reputation for being an asshole, but most people didn't know that it had been a defense mechanism in place due to his past. His twin brother was the only person who knew he wasn't truly a jerk.

As they walked in the direction of where she was staying, Maddox waved off her comment. "Don't worry about me. I assure you that I'm walking you to the door whether you want me to, or not," he replied, turning his gaze back over to her. "I would prefer making sure that you get back safely. You don't want to be wandering a city alone at this time of night." He slipped his hands into his pockets as they continued to stroll, and he appreciated the weather. "So, I take it that you're not from the area of you're staying at a hotel?"

[hollygl125]

CSI | I DREAM OF GSR | Season 01

[iwritesmutnottragedy]

EZ was cruising down the scorching hot highway on his motorcycle, the midday sun beating down on him relentlessly. The engine of his bike roared under him as he weaved effortlessly through the sparse traffic. His thoughts were interrupted by something that caught his eye. A lone figure walking along the shoulder of the highway, a woman who was struggling under the merciless sun.

As he pulled closer, he noticed that she was sunburned and obviously exhausted from walking what must have been a great distance. However, there was not a single abandoned car in sight for miles.

He slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder just a few meters ahead of her. He killed the engine of his bike and kicked down the stand. He took off his helmet and got off the bike, feeling the heat from the asphalt as he walked over to the woman.

He approached her cautiously, taking in her exhausted appearance. He could see that she was dehydrated and on the verge of heat stroke. He stopped a few feet away from her and spoke in a gentle voice.

"Hey," he said quietly, trying not to startle her. "You alone out here?" His voice was tinged with concern.

Sara had been walking for hours now. Her car had broken down and since she was in between insurances she needed to Huff it to the nearest gas station or tow company- or at least until her cell phone could get some decent reception. The walk had started out perfectly tolerable but she still wasn't used to the sun this close to the equator. It beat down on her relentlessly and before long left her exhausted, with a headache and stinging soles on the bottom of her feet.

Countless cars had passed by her with no interest, so she was surprised when a motorcycle pulled up in front of her and stopped. The tall, imposing biker stood a few feet away from her and she couldn't help but stare at him with an expression of utter bewilderment as she mumbled,

"Yeah I'm alone.. obviously? Why? " she couldn't help the note of suspicion that snuck into her voice. It was natural to be hesitant for her, being a woman who lived on her own and traveled so often.

EZ couldn't help but notice the note of suspicion in her voice, but he couldn't exactly blame her. She was alone and stranded on a highway, and he was a stranger.

"I just noticed you've been walking for a while," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "I wanted to make sure you're okay." He took a few steps closer to her, his eyes flicking over her sunburned skin. She was definitely dehydrated.

A little bit of her defensive posture faded at that answer and she found herself suddenly extremely tired. Sara nodded and shoved her hands in the pockets of her ripped and paint stained jeans. At least she hadn't been wearing a skirt or dress but the sneakers on her feet weren't exactly meant for long hikes. The longer she stood still the more the stinging in her feet increase. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other end tried to hurry the conversation along so she could continue walking.

"I'm... I'm okay. It's just hot as balls out you know." She wiped a sweaty palm against the denim of her pants. "My car broke down about three or four mile markers back so I've been out here most of the day. "

EZ listened to her explanation, taking in her tired appearance and the way she shifted her weight, clearly in discomfort. He could see the sunburn on her skin and the fatigue in her eyes.

"That's rough, especially in this heat," he said, nodding. "Do you have a cell phone? You could call a tow truck or something."

She couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at his suggestion, an expression of brief disbelief on her face. In response she wordlessly fished through her pocket to pull out her cell phone and held it up for him to see. "It's a crappy out of state network, I get bad reception even when I'm not stranded in the middle of a desert. "

And she hadn't wanted to waste the battery by repeatedly checking the bars to keep trying. According to the last mile marker she'd passed, she was only two more miles away from an exit with a gas station. At least by then maybe she could use her phone and call someone to tow her car. That was, if she didn't pass out first.

"It's just my shitty luck. I'm used to it. "

EZ nodded, understanding her predicament. "Those dead spots out here can be rough," he conceded. "But walking in this heat isn't really safe, especially not with those burns." He pointed out the sunburn on her skin.

He could tell she was determined, but he also knew that her body was close to reaching its limit. At this point, pushing her onward could be dangerous.

"Listen," he said, his voice gentle. "Why don't I give you a ride to the nearest gas station? You can call someone from there."

Indecision tour at her gut. He could either help her or.. she didn't want to think about the alternatives. Still, if she was being realistic she didn't think she could make it much further down this road. Her fist clenched and unclenched at her sides, embarrassment and mortification at being caught in this kind of situation hot and uncomfortable and made tears staying at the corner of her eyes.

Something in her hated to admit when she needed help, maybe it was the proud way that her father had raised her but the words felt sour in her mouth as she nodded and took a couple steps closer to the man in front of her.

"Yeah.. I guess that would be smart. But I swear, if you murder me I will haunt you and your ancestors. " she knew the threat would probably mean more to her than him, but it still gave her comfort.

EZ couldn't help but chuckle at her threat. He could see the emotion in her face and hear the vulnerability in her voice. He knew she wasn't used to asking for help.

"I promise I won't murder you," he said with a smile. "And I can't really risk being haunted, especially not by a vengeful spirit. My ancestors are already a handful."

He gestured towards his motorcycle.

"You ever ridden on one of these before?"

She can help but crack a smile at their mark on his ancestors. Something about him was slowly disarming her, and she found her hands dropping from where they were perched on her hips in a semi-judgmental fashion. She looked at the bike and her expression flickered with anxiety for a moment. "No, I've never been on one. "

Sara had always dreamed of it, thought that they looked exciting and even a little bit wild. But in the end she had decided to purchase an RV instead of a motorbike. It suited her purpose is more. "What am I supposed to do? "

EZ noticed her uneasiness and offered a reassuring smile. "It's okay, I'll make sure you're safe. Just hop on and hold onto me, alright?"

He patted the seat behind him, indicating where he wanted her to sit. "You can put your arms around my waist if you're feeling shaky. I won't go too fast, and I've got a helmet for you as well."

Sara hesitated for a moment, but the heat was getting to her. She put her hands on the seat and awkwardly climbed onto the back of the bike, settling behind EZ.

She wasn't used to being in such a close proximity to a stranger, let alone a large, powerful-looking man like him. She swallowed and tried to control her nerves. "This is a first for me," she admitted, adjusting her grip on his waist.

The bike felt large and foreign to her. She felt slightly unsteady.

"I feel like I should apologize in advance if I do something wrong," she muttered, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

EZ chuckled lightly, amused by her nervous energy. "You won't do anything wrong," he said, his voice reassuring. "Just relax and hold on. I promise I'll keep you safe."

He could sense her discomfort and did his best to make her feel more at ease. He started the engine of his bike, the low rumble filling the air. He checked over his shoulder to make sure she was seated properly.

"You ready?" he asked, looking back at her.

She didn't know if it was the sunburn or the way that he said he would keep her safe but her cheeks felt just slightly hotter than she nodded when he asked if she was ready. Sara's entire body tense and she locked her arms around his waist but as the bike took off and she realized she wasn't going to go tumbling to the ground, she loosened her hold on him to something more natural and comfortable for the both of them.

After a few minutes she found that she was even enjoying herself, the wind hitting her sunburned skin helped cool her in a way she hadn't expected. There was also a sense of Freedom that came with moving so fast down the highway with nothing- no barrier between them and the open road. She was almost disappointed when they finally slowed to a stop outside the gas station.

She dismounted from the bike and stumbled back, a little bit days and her legs felt wobbly both from the fading adrenaline and the sudden lack of the bikes vibration under her. She pulled out her cell phone and checked the reception and smiled when there was finally three strong bars.

"Thank you, " she breathed with relief. "Honestly I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't stopped by. "

EZ watched as she dismounted and checked her phone, a sense of relief washing over him when she seemed satisfied with the reception.

"You're welcome," he said with a shrug, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I couldn't just leave you stranded out there in the sun."

He leaned against his bike, his eyes flickering up and down her sunburnt form. "You should probably put some sunscreen on that before you get into any more trouble. Those burns look painful."

" Trust me, my first plan of action when I get my RV up and running is to take a whole jar of aloe and just.." she looked away, suddenly realizing that she was preparing to paint a bit of an inappropriate picture for him." Anyways, I've never got your name?"

She felt a little bit bad now that she'd been so suspicious of him in the first place. In fact, she didn't know if it was because he had helped her or because she was no longer worried about passing out from heat stroke but.. he was actually pretty attractive. Like, really attractive. She noticed the leather vest he wore and the patch on it and tilted her head to the side curiously. "Interesting patches. Do they mean anything? "

EZ couldn't help but smile at her description of her plans with the aloe. He understood the relief of finding remedy to a sting or burn.

"Ezekiel Reyes," he said, answering her query. "But people call me EZ. And these-" he gestured to the leather patches on his vest "-they represent my motorcycle club. That's how we identify ourselves to each other."

He looked back at her, noticing the curious tilt of her head. "You're eyeing the patch, huh?"

She nodded and understanding. Not knowing much about motorcycles, she had of course heard of motorcycle clubs but didn't know any of the intricacies involved in its membership or they're dealings and business. What head stood out to her was the familiar curvature of the line work in the patches, so much similar to the glyphs that she used in her own artwork.

"Yeah, the designs look very Mesoamerican. Mayan, specifically. Like.. I'm pretty sure that's Chaac? Right?"

She took a step forward towards him without realizing, leaning to get a better look at the patch designs on his vest. "Unless I'm just seeing things from heat stroke.."

EZ was a bit surprised to hear her mention Chaac. Most people didn't recognize the design on his patch, much less identify it.

"You're right," he said, his voice tinged with mild surprise. "That is Chaac. And this-" he pointed to another symbol on his patch "-that's Itzli, the patron Saint of our club."

He took a moment to regard her. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he questioned as she stepped closer to observe the designs more carefully.

She resisted the urge to reach out and run her fingers over the embroidered patches. It was a close thing though, instead she crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him with more interest then she had previously thought capable of. It seemed like too big of a coincidence that a man with such meaningful glyphs had saved her. She quickly and silently mentally thanked the ancestors and her patron for their involvement.

"Strong patrons," she observed and finally reached up to reverently touch one of the curved teeth in Chaac's design. "I prefer Ix'chel."

She dropped her hand as if burned and took a half step back. Her dark eyes widened and she felt a little vulnerable...and a lot *seen*. Sara shrugged and shoved her hands back in her pockets. She usually didn't explain her heritage outside of trying to sell her art. Talking about herself in genuine conversation felt...odd.

"My dad is Salvadoreño. It's just how I was brought up." She explained, her head feeling a little bit woozy and her mouth felt full of cotton.

EZ noticed the sudden shift in her demeanor, how she withdrew her hand and took a step back as if he had spooked her. He could sense her discomfort, her vulnerability, and he knew that he had struck a chord.

He watched her carefully, as she attempted to dismiss the subject with a shrug and a vague explanation. His eyes lingered on her face, taking in the flush in her cheeks and the way her mouth seemed to struggle with words.

"You don't just carry the knowledge of your heritage. You carry the essence of it," he stated quietly.

EZ narrowed his eyes, studying her for a moment. He could sense that there was more to her history than she was letting on, a deeper connection that ran through her veins.

"If you connect with Ix'chel, that's no coincidence," he continued, his voice low and steady. "It's a legacy, a legacy that runs in your blood and your bones. You can't dismiss it so easily."

Her eyes were large as saucers as he said the words. It felt as though the air had been punched from her lungs- there's no way he could know. It was impossible, the words and message from her patron coming out of the mouth of a tall imposing biker. The world spun around her and she took a single stumbling step forward.

"You can't know that..." She whispered, eyes glassy. The hours spent in the heat and dehydration catching up to her quickly now.

EZ reached out instinctively, grabbing her elbow to steady her as she stumbled forward. He could tell that she was overwhelmed, the weight of his words hitting her harder than he had anticipated.

His grip was firm and gentle at the same time, grounding her in place as she seemed to struggle to find her footing. His eyes searched her face, his expression one of concern and understanding.

"Don't pass out on me, ahora," he muttered, his voice tinged with genuine worry.

EZ could feel the heat emanating from her skin, a stark contrast to the cool evening air. He knew that she was likely suffering from more than just a sunburnt face.

"You're dehydrated,” he said, “and probably overheating. You need water and shade."

He looked around the gas station, taking notice of a small sheltered area. "Come on. Over there. Take a seat."

He guided her gently towards the spot, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting her go and grabbing a bottle of water from his bike's storage.

She accepted the water bottle gratefully, unscrewing it with shaky hands and drinking half of it in one go. When she was done she looked up at easy with a slightly embarrassed expression and carded a hand through her messy long dark hair. She had been up for nearing 24 hours at this point, coupled with the heat exhaustion she felt about ready to pass out.

" I'm sorry for that reaction, I must seem crazy." She tried to make herself take slower sips of the water bottle so she didn't finish it too quickly. "It's just something I spend a lot of time thinking about so it was a little weird to have you say that. "

Despite drinking the water and it replenishing some of the energy that she had lost, she still felt bone tired and didn't look forward to the extended process it would take and getting a tow and finding a spot to rent to park her RV for the night.

The more and more she thought about it, the more she felt like just laying down on the bench and taking a long nap.

EZ watched her as she drank the water, his gaze steady and observant. He noticed the way her hands trembled slightly, the exhaustion and dehydration taking a toll on her body.

As she apologized for her reaction, he shook his head slightly. "You don't seem crazy," he assured her. "You seem like you carry a lot of weight on your shoulders."

He leaned against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he observed her. Her words about spending a lot of time thinking about her heritage intrigued him.

He had a feeling that there was more to her story than she was letting on, that her connection to her roots went far deeper than mere interest.

He watched as she took smaller sips of her water, her fatigue evident in the slow, drained movements.

"You're not just tired," he observed quietly. "You're exhausted. When's the last time you slept?"

She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees, trying to breathe slow and steady and fight off the way that the world seem to be closing in around her. She didn't want to pass out in front of this guy after he saved her from the side of the road. Sara gritted her teeth and forced the words out of her mouth.

" I had just gotten off of an overnight shift and was on my way home when my car broke down. " her voice trembles and she almost let the water bottle drop to the ground before forcing herself to set it down as gently as possible. "Honestly I would have been asleep hours ago if this hadn't have happened."

EZ watched as Sara struggled to stay upright, her exhaustion evident in the way her voice trembled and her body strained. He felt a pang of concern for her well-being, knowing that she was on the brink of passing out.

As she spoke, he took note that she'd come straight from work and had been dealing with car trouble for hours. He could see the toll it had taken on her body and mind, the weariness etched in every line of her face.

"How far is your RV from here?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

Her eyes had started to close for longer and longer increments of time but at his question her head jerked up. Sara looked at Ezekiel and squinted, trying to make out the details of his face despite how blurry her vision felt at the moment. Suppress the hand to her head, suddenly feeling a splitting headache coming on. "I'm not sure probably like.. Six miles?"

She struggled to recount how long she had been walking on the road and the amount of mile markers she passed. "I think I had been walking about four miles when you stopped me, and we drove two miles here.. right?"

She closed her eyes again and her entire body seemed to sag a little, as if gravity were increasing on her.

EZ's eyes widened as Sara mentioned the distance to her RV. Six miles was a good bit farther than he expected, and the fact that she'd already walked four miles on her own was nothing less than impressive.

He listened as she recounted her steps, nodding slowly as she ticked off the miles she had walked and driven. Her exhaustion was evident in the way her body seemed to droop, her voice growing quieter with every word.

"Yeah. We came two miles to the gas station," he confirmed, his voice firm but gentle.

He studied her face, noting the fatigue etched into every line. The woman was exhausted, that much was obvious. She was struggling to keep herself upright and had been on her feet for too long.

"That's a lot of distance," he said, his voice quiet. "And you've been up all night. You need to rest."

He pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on and took a step closer to her, studying her even more closely than before.

The statement felt so obvious that she could laugh. As it was a sardonic little smile twisted her full lips and Sara leaned back against the bench, rolling her head to look at Ezekiel's expression. He looked so.. concerned. She hadn't been expecting that from a stranger, and he seemed to be continuously surprising her. She could barely keep her eyes open at this point and had a feeling she was probably going to end up sleeping on the gas station bench until she could get her bearings and finally call someone to give her a ride back to her RV and take a look at what might have malfunctioned.

It certainly wasn't ideal, and she knew it was possible that she could end up being mistaken for a homeless person or someone in a much more vulnerable position if she ended up sleeping somewhere so publicly- but she couldn't be damned to move. And she had no one to call for help. Sara had only been in Santo Padre for a couple of months now and all of her family lived very far away . Finally she managed to utter the words, her eyebrows raised with curiosity.

"Do you have any suggestions?"

EZ could hear the resignation in her voice, how she had resigned herself to sleeping on a gas station bench and just waiting until the sun came up. It was obvious that she was tired to the point of delirium, but also stubborn enough to hold out until she found a solution.

He couldn't help but admire her determination, even in her exhausted state. He stood in front of her, considering his options, when a thought occurred to him.

He looked down at her, his eyes fixed on her face. She looked on the verge of falling asleep right where she sat, her exhaustion and dehydration finally catching up to her.

"How about this?" he suggested. "I'll take you back to my place. You can get some rest there."

He knew it wasn't the most conventional solution, and he was sure she would have protests. But it was better than letting her sleep on a gas station bench in the middle of the night.

She was just too tired to argue. Every movement she made was full of pure exhaustion and she nodded and squinted up at him. "And our deal still stands? You promise not to murder me? " It was only half a joke.

EZ chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"I promise not to murder you," he assured her, his voice low and even.

He leaned down and put a strong hand on her arm, gently tugging her to her feet. "Can you walk to my bike, or do you need me to carry you?"

Sara allowed herself to be manipulated and ended up leaning on him quite a bit as they made their way over to his bike. It was harder to swing her leg over and take her place behind him this time and she clung to his middle with shaking arms. For one scary moment she worried that she might actually accidentally let go and fall off. But as Ezekiel started the bike his arm came down and clasped hers tightly like an iron band.

She rested her helmeted head against his back and couldn't stop her eyes from closing. The feeling of the bike vibrating underneath them and his large warm back in front of her was just too soothing. By the time they slowed to a stop and she was expected to get off the bike-- it took a moment for her to come to grip with her surroundings.

Behind easy and then back at his face and then let out a slightly delirious little giggle. "You live in an RV too? "

EZ chuckled as he felt her head rest against his back. She was clinging to him tightly, her grip like a vice, as if worried she would fall off at any second.

He could feel the exhaustion in every line of her body pressed against him, and he knew that she was probably moments away from passing out.

As he pulled to a stop and she stumbled off the bike, he couldn't help but smile at her slightly delirious question.

"Yeah," he replied, grinning. "I've been living in this RV for a couple years now."

It reminded her so much of her own, just lacking the spray paint and excessive decals that she had decorated hers with. Sara stepped into the RV and all but collapsed into the seat at the small table, curling up comfortably. "This is trippy, but your place is really cute."

EZ chuckled at her description of his RV, calling it cute. He had never thought of it in those terms, but he supposed it wasn't entirely inaccurate. He watched her as she took a seat at the small table, her body curled into a comfortable slump.

"Thanks," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I guess I never thought of it as cute, but I'll take the compliment."

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her settling in.

"I really appreciate this, EZ." Sara said genuinely, her head rolling back and resting against the wall. Now that she knew she *could* safely rest, it was quickly becoming an impossible battle to keep her eyes open. Her arms loosely hugged her knees to her chest and her breathing started to even out.

"I totally owe you one." She murmured and finally drifted off to sleep.

EZ watched as Sara's eyes slowly closed, her exhaustion finally overcoming her and allowing her to fall asleep. She rested against the wall, her arms hugging her knees to her chest and her breathing even and steady.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight, and feel a pang of sympathy for her. She looked so young, so vulnerable, and he knew she must be exhausted beyond belief.

He didn't reply, knowing that she was already asleep. Instead, he stood there for a moment, watching her, before heading over to the small kitchenette to grab a bottle of water.

He filled a glass with water and brought it back to the table, setting it down within reach of Sara's hand in case she woke up and needed it. He then stepped back, his eyes roaming over her once more, making sure she was okay.

EZ leaned back against the counter again, his arms still crossed over his chest. He didn't want to leave her alone, didn't want her to wake up alone in a foreign place. He also couldn't help but feel a protective instinct towards her, despite the fact that he barely knew her.

It was nearly two and a half hours before Sara started to wake up. There was a knot in her neck from the way that her head had rolled to the side on her shoulder, and she was so *cold* from the chill of her sunburned skin. Before opening her eyes she almost made the mistake of thinking she was home--except this RV smelled a lot less like weed and perfume and a lot more like...a guy?

She opened her eyes as the memories from the past few hours came rushing back and she realized she was very much *not* in her RV. When she looked across the space she saw EZ heating something up on a relatively small electric stove top.

"How long was I asleep?" Sara asked quietly. Her head throbbed from a mix of how dehydrated she had been and the sun exposure. Her fingers gratefully closed over the glass of water by her and she took small, controlled drinks. A stark contrast to the desperation she'd felt when they first got to the gas station.

EZ heard Sara stirring and turned to look at her when he heard her speak. He could see the confusion and slight disorientation on her face as she adjusted to her surroundings. He glanced at his watch, noting the time.

"About two and a half hours," he replied, his voice soft so as not to startle her. "You needed the sleep."

He watched as she took small sips of the water, her thirst finally under control. He could see the fatigue and the slight headache etched on her face, no doubt a result from the dehydration and sun exposure.

He turned back towards the stove, focusing his attention on what he was heating up. It wasn't much, just some canned soup, but he figured it would be enough to help nourish her a little.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his back still turned to her. "Headache? Nausea?"

After sitting up she assessed herself, taking in her body's different aches and pains. There was still plenty of discomfort but it was such a far cry better than before she felt...silly, complaining. "Yeah, my head is screaming at me and my feet and legs hurt a little from the walk. I'm used to standing outside for most of the day vending at festivals but...that's a lot different."

When she was vending she could always close down her booth and take a smoke break in the back, even if that did mean potential loss of income.

"I'm sorry I took over your evening...Did I fuck up your plans?" She asked with a mix of sympathy and curiosity.

EZ's eyes flicked back towards her as she assessed her pain levels. He could see the discomfort on her face, but she seemed to be trying to stay strong and not complain about her ailments.

He chuckled softly at her question, his hands moving as he continued to prepare the soup. "No, you didn't mess up my plans," he reassured her. "I didn't have any plans anyway. I'm a prospect of the MC, the club keeps me busy most of the time."

He turned back to the stove, stirring the soup as it began to simmer. "And trust me, you didn't take over my evening. I don't mind you being here."

He wasn't sure why he added that last part, but it rolled off his tongue before he could stop it.

He turned off the stove and poured the soup into a bowl, his eyes flickering over to her again. "Do you think you can eat?"

Her stomach growled loudly as if answering for her and Sara looked away in embarrassment. After letting out a small mortified chuckle, she nodded. "Yeah, I think I can eat...*Thank you.*"

She thought about his answer and realized she didn't know very much at all about his life in the club and what it meant for him. After accepting the bowl and eating a couple of spoonful's she asked, "So...I know I sound dumb but, what's a prospect?"

EZ smiled at her embarrassed reaction to her growling stomach, finding it oddly endearing. He handed the bowl of soup to her and watched as she started eating.

When she asked about prospects, he chuckled softly and leaned against the counter. "A prospect is someone who's trying to become a member of the club. They have to go through a trial period, kind of like an initiation. It's a way of testing their loyalty and commitment to the club before they're fully patched in as a member."

She thought about that quietly while she ate. Personally she had always had trouble taking orders from others and couldn't imagine it. *He must be really patient.* She thought, before leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. "How long is the trial period? Is it like a set time or just until they feel you've proved yourself?"

Still, it was a type of community. And Sara wasn't willing to disrespect that no matter how different from her own life it was. Her tone was full of curiosity without any judgement. "That sounds really hard...but you like it?"

EZ nodded, appreciating her interest and lack of judgement. It was refreshing to have someone ask him questions without the usual judgement and prejudice he often faced from outsiders.

"The trial period is usually a year," he explained. "But it can be extended or shortened depending on how well the prospect does. And yeah, I like it. It's hard, but it's all worth it in the end. The club has always been there for me, given me a sense of purpose and belonging."

He took a moment to look at her, studying her expression. She seemed genuinely interested, which was something he wasn't used to. He found himself wanting to tell her more about his life and the club.

He pushed off from the counter and took a seat across from her. "What about you? You said you were a street vendor, but you're not from the area. Where do you come from?"

Sara paused eating when EZ sat down across from her, her fingers began to self consciously brush the tangles out of her long dark hair before twisting it into a long braid with familiar ease. Both to appear just a little bit less messy and also to make sure none of the rebellious strands tried to find their way into her food.

"That obvious or just cuz it's a small town?" She couldn't help but wonder, looking down at herself. For some reason she always felt like she stood out wherever she went, even though there was nothing that peculiar about her on first glance.

"Right now I'm mostly just traveling from gig to gig. I grew up in the Appalachian mountains. It's...a pretty complicated story."

EZ chuckled softly, his eyes tracing over her as she braided her hair. He could see the self-consciousness in her movements, the desire to appear a little more presentable.

"Both," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's a small town, and you definitely stand out. But I've always had a good eye for people, especially out-of-towners."

He watched her for a moment, studying her answer. "I understand complicated," he replied softly. "I don't judge. You don't have to share if you don't want to."

She nodded. It wasn't that she didn't mind telling him, it's just that people tended to react very divisively to her past. "I...don't mind, I like talking to you."

She took a couple more swallows of soup and then set the spoon down in favor of bringing her legs up on the seat to cross them under her. It wasn't exactly a ladylike sitting position but it was comfortable and allowed her to think of what to say just a little bit easier and prevented her from stimming to obviously. "My mom's family is from the Appalachians. New York Jews that decided to move out of the city."

It was hard to resist tapping her fingers against the table, already the muscles in her legs tightened subtly under the table, urging her to let them bounce. Talking about herself or her family always seemed to set off her ticks a little. "And like I said my dad's family is from El Salvador. He came to the States to escape the civil war in the...70? 80s? That whole time was fucking bloody and messy."

EZ listened intently to her story, his eyes never leaving her face. He could sense the tension in her muscles, the urge to fidget, but he understood. She was clearly thinking about her past, things that had clearly left an impact.

He watched her legs under the table, noticing the subtle bounces. He appreciated that she was being open with him, sharing her background without any judgement.

"That sounds like a complicated past," he commented softly. "It must have been tough, growing up with such different family histories. And the war...it must have been really hard for your dad."

"It left some scars in him," She agreed easily. "Most of his childhood friends from Ahuachapan ended up dead or recruited into the resistance." Her tone was somber, talking about that part of history always made her a little sad. She couldn't look at lives lost as just numbers on a paper-- they were *people*. "But he mostly grew up here. Became a musician and made a name going the festival artist route. That's how I learned...how I grew up."

EZ nodded, his expression serious. He could see the sadness in her eyes, the understanding of the impact of war. He knew that all too well. He too had seen death and loss, it was the life he lived.

"So your dad's a musician," he commented, his voice soft. "And you grew up going to festivals and stuff like that. Sounds like you've had a unique upbringing."

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying her intently. She was different from anyone else he'd met before.

"How did you end up vending?" He asked curiously. "Did you decide to follow in your dad's footsteps?"

He watched her closely, interested in her answer. He could feel himself becoming increasingly intrigued by her story, the more he learned about her.

Moving on from her family history to her personal one was a lot easier. She could defend her own choices, but talking about family had always felt a little loaded. Sara perked up but her expression twisted as she thought about his answer and then she steeled herself, knowing this part of her people tended to judge.

"Yes and no...I was kind of left with no other options at first." Finally she couldn't stay still any longer, one of her legs freed itself from where it had been trapped under her and bounced against the floor of the RV. It was either that to start rocking in a barely-there self soothing movement. And like *hell* was she going to stim that way in front of him.

"My brain's a little fucked up, autism and some stuff. So I dropped out of school my senior year and got my GED." She tried her best to sound confident, or at the very least casual, but the blush had returned to her sunburnt cheeks.

"And then I didn't know *what* to do, so I moved in with my dad and started working selling my art and our jewelry at festivals. And just...never stopped."

EZ listened intently as she explained her journey, his expression remaining neutral. He could sense her slight anxiety about revealing this part of herself, but he didn't judge. He knew all about making unconventional life choices.

"Your 'brain's a little fucked up?'" He echoed, his voice soft. "I think you're being a little hard on yourself."

He noticed her leg bouncing, the need to move or fidget, even the slight rocking. But he didn't say anything, just watched her patiently.

"You dropped out," he continued. "And you've turned it into something productive. You're an artist, you sell your work. That's pretty damn impressive."

He leaned forward now, his eyes meeting hers. "And I don't care about your brain. It's part of what makes you...you. It's not a flaw to me."

Sara's eyes widened and his words seemed to banish away some of the insecurity. She couldn't help but smile and found herself leaning forward and mirroring his action just a little. "That is probably the fucking nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I'm vending at the Cultura themed street festival later this week...Do you want to go? We could...hang for a little bit?" Her heart beat a little bit faster but it was more out of fear for rejection than any lingering insecurity.

EZ chuckled at her reaction, pleased that he'd managed to lift her spirits. "You deserve to hear more nice things," he remarked, his voice low and sincere.

When she invited him to the festival, his expression softened. It wasn't often that someone included him in something outside of the club. He found himself wanting to say yes.

"I'd love to go," he replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. "As long as you don't mind being seen with a biker."

She couldn't help the expression of confusion that flitted across her face. Sure, she knew that there was a stigma around being a biker but she'd never experienced it, there seemed to be a stigma around *everything* that she always struggled to understand. *That's the autism.* She reminded herself.

"Why would I mind being seen with a biker?" Sara still found herself asking, her eyes looking over EZ's face as if trying to find some obvious answer she was missing.

EZ was a bit taken aback by her confusion, not expecting her to be unaware of the stigma. He chuckled softly, amused by her innocent question.

"Well," he began. "Some people...they think we bikers are dangerous. Violent. Not great company."

He watched her for a moment, studying her expression. She clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Or maybe she just didn't care. He found himself hoping it was the latter.

"Are you?" She asked, hoping he would return her honesty in kind. Obviously he hadn't been dangerous *to her*, and that was enough for her to feel safe in his company for now. But she couldn't help but wonder...there was something about EZ. At face value he was pretty much an idea gentleman. But she could tell there was something underneath that was a bit...darker.

"I don't care, though. I like you."

EZ paused, her question catching him off-guard. He hadn't been expecting her to ask that. Or to be so upfront about it.

He studied her face, the earnest look in her eyes. She was sincere, with the refreshing ability to tell the truth without holding back. It was oddly refreshing.

"Yeah," he admitted after a moment, his voice low. "Sometimes."

He held her gaze, his expression serious. "But never to someone who doesn't deserve it. And *especially* not to you."

EZ waited for her reaction, curious to see how she would respond to his honest answer. He wasn't ashamed of who he was or what he'd done, but he didn't want her to be frightened.

He leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. He could still see a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, but she didn't seem scared. If anything, she seemed...accepting.

Silence stretched between them as she considered his answer carefully and what that could mean. She was a stranger to violence about as much as she was to motorcycles. Her whole life was spent as an artist, the only violence she usually had to worry about was towards herself and staying out of dangerous situations. Which admittedly could be a challenge for her.

"Can I ...ask? Or is that like, really private?" She wanted to get a better idea of what kind of decisions he had to make. It was equally about wanting to discover more about EZ, and because she needed to know what she was getting herself into.

EZ's expression softened as he noted the curiosity in her eyes. He could tell she was uncertain, but also that she was willing to hear him out.

He leaned back in his chair, considering her question. "You can ask," he replied. "But I can't promise I'll answer every question. It's...complicated." There was a hint of warning in his voice. Certain details he wanted to keep to himself.

"So is it like, club on club violence or does that kind of bleed out into the community?" She asked, getting to the heart of the matter. If it was just him getting into dangerous situations with Club stuff, she could easily overlook that. But she had no concept of the power the Club had regarding the town or drug trade going across the border.

"I just...want to know what I'd be getting myself into." Her cheeks heated as she realized how assumptive that sounded. She'd asked him to hang out *once*, not start dating. For all she knew, he didn't even think of her that way. Just some poor odd woman he'd scraped off the road.

"Not that it's that big of a deal. I'm only in town until half way through next month."

EZ listened to her question, his expression stoic. He could understand her concerns. The life he lived wasn't exactly safe or stable.

He paused, considering his response. "A little of both," he admitted. "There's tension between clubs, and sometimes it spills into the community. But we try to keep it contained."

He paused, sensing that her next question was a bit more personal. "And as for getting yourself into something...we'll just be hanging out. Nothing more."

EZ leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. He could see her slight embarrassment as she realized how her question sounded. It was sweet, he had to admit.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'm not expecting us to be anything serious. Just a couple of friends hanging out at a festival."

Her lips thinned and she tried to stuff the scared insecure part of her into a tiny cage and shove her far to the back of her mind. He was dangerous, had admitted as much...but there was an undeniable pull towards him, an attraction she couldn't shake. "...And if I wanted to turn it into a date?"

Then as if she couldn't stop herself, "But, I totally get if you're not into that--er, me."

EZ's smile widened into a cocky grin at her question. He hadn't been expecting that.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he studied her. She was feisty, with a hint of vulnerability. It was an endearing combination, and it made him want to get closer to her.

"Not into you?" He repeated, letting his eyes roam over her face and body. "I think I'd be an idiot if I wasn't into you, cariña."

His voice was serious, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke. "I'm not trying to scare you away," he went on. "I just need to make sure you understand. I'm not what you'd call a "safe" choice."

Her eyes stared deep into his, unable to look away. There was truth in his words and she tried to take in the weight of it, not to agree to anything that they might regret later...but there was a thrill of excitement in the pit of her gut at the prospect of getting to know him. Like she *needed* to.

"I'm not scared." She murmured. "And to some people I wouldn't be a safe choice either. Mentally ill traveling artist? Not exactly what people want to bring home to the parents."

EZ's lips twitched with a amused smirk at her words. He was beginning to understand a bit more about her - she wasn't easily deterred or intimidated, and she had a hint of a rebellious side. He liked that.

"Mentally ill?" he repeated, his eyebrows raised slightly. "What do you mean by that?"

"Autism, it's a disorder but...most people think of it like an illness. Plus some other things, panic disorder...depression. I'm... messed up, EZ." She explained, wanting to make sure he got the full picture on *her* before he agreed to anything. Fair was fair.

But this she wasn't insecure about. The things in her mind she couldn't change, the demons who she'd been forced to befriend or tame. "I travel and vend partly because it's the only life that's worked for me...I don't..I don't know how to do normal."

EZ listened intently as she explained her situation, his expression still and his gaze unwavering. Despite what she was telling him, he didn't see someone "messed up", but someone who had a unique set of challenges in life.

"You're not messed up," he said, his voice firm. "You're different. We all have demons we're grappling with." He leaned forward, his eyes meeting hers. "You've found a way to make the cards you were dealt work for you. That's not messed up, that's impressive."

He paused, his gaze shifting as a thought came to him. "This...panic disorder," he said, his voice a touch softer. "Is it something that could be triggered?"

He was suddenly a bit more concerned. The kind of work he did wasn't always predictable, and the last thing he wanted was to inadvertently cause her distress.

Her lips thinned and she gave a small nod. "Sometimes. I try to be aware of my triggers and avoid them...or medicate so the edge isn't so intense." At the mention of it her leg began to bounce again and she let out a sigh. She was still...very tired. And it was showing through her nervous actions. Usually she had much more self control.

"I smoke a lot of pot."

EZ noted her leg bouncing and the weary expression on her face. She was tired, and perhaps the conversation was exacerbating her stress. He knew that panic attacks could be triggered by stress, and the last thing he wanted to do was send her into one.

When she mentioned smoking pot, he raised an eyebrow. "Does it help?" he asked. "The pot, I mean."

She couldn't help but smile and nod, glad that he wasn't outright judgmental of her recreational and medical choices regarding the plant. Her movements slowed a little bit, but didn't still completely. "Yeah, it just...slows everything down. So I can think and figure out how to mask correctly for the situation."

It was a lot to learn, the work arounds she'd created for herself. Coping skills that most people didn't have to think about just to get common tasks done. She'd been living that way for so long, that most people didn't even notice when she was struggling with something anymore.

"It's the *not* knowing that triggers my panic the most. Which is vague as fuck and can mean anything. From waiting for life changing new to...'oh no the traffic is really crazy who knows when I'll be able to get off the highway'. It's anything and everything so..." *Yeah, a mess.*

"But, I've been dealing with this for a long time. I'm pretty good about knowing what I can and can't handle. "

EZ listened quietly as she explained her anxiety, his expression thoughtful. He could tell she was used to dealing with it, even if it still clearly took a toll on her at times. He nodded when she mentioned her coping skills, impressed at her self-awareness.

But it was the last part that caught his attention. "Dealing with it a long time," he repeated, a little frown on his face. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty eight." She responded and couldn't help the amusement that showed on her face. Most people assumed that she was much younger than she was, she wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was the way she talked, or held herself- but there was always a look of surprise on people's face when she said that she was much closer to being thirty then she was to being twenty.

" I always had to deal with being an anxious person, but things like this tend to peak when you hit adulthood. Why? "

EZ's eyes widened as she told him her age, his surprise obvious. He had indeed thought she was younger, likely early to mid twenty somethings. Even now, he had trouble reconciling that she was closer to *thirty* than twenty.

When she asked why he looked surprised, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I... I thought you were younger," he admitted bluntly. "Early twenties, maybe."

Now it was her turn to frown. She sat back in the seat a little and crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. "Does that bother you? "

EZ caught the shift in her demeanor and the challenging eyebrow raise. He quickly held up a hand, trying to reassure her. "No, not at all," he said quickly. "I was just surprised, that's all. I didn't...you don't look thirty."

Finally, she broke out into a grin. It was a much easier shift in conversation than talking about her fucked up brain. Sara raised her chin and her eyes looked over him for a moment, appreciating his features while she spoke. There was something about his warm almond eyes and the way that he looked at her that made sugars run down her spine despite how exhausted her body still was.

" Well that's good because I'm not thirty yet... how old are you? If you don't mind me asking. "

EZ noticed her grin and the way she suddenly looked him over, a flutter of pleasure in his chest. He liked the way her eyes took in his features. No one had ever looked at him like that before.

He chuckled at her question, leaning back in his chair. "I'm thirty-two," he replied. "Old man."

Sara laughed softly, a warm sound. "Thirty two isn't old," she assured him, a smile still on her face. "You're just well-aged. Like a fine wine."

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze still on his face as she continued to appreciate his features. The warm tan of his skin, the dark eyes, the strong jaw. He certainly didn't seem thirty-two.

She looked him over again, noticing little things she hadn't before, like the slight smile lines at the corners of his eyes and the shadows beneath them that hinted at the weight of his life.

EZ couldn't help but smile at her words. "Well-aged, huh?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I like the sound of that. Better than being called an old man."

He noticed her lingering gaze and the way her eyes seemed to take him in. He could almost feel the weight of her stare, like a caress across his skin. He didn't mind it.

"You keep looking at me like that, and I might start to think you're trying to undress me with your eyes," he teased, his tone playful.

Now that he mentioned it the images came unbidden into her mind and she couldn't stop the blush that tinged her cheeks. But she didn't stop looking at him. In fact, one of her hands crossed over the table to reach for where his forearms were resting on his knees. She slipped her smaller hand into his large calloused one and held it in casual show of affection.

"Would it offend you if I was?" She knew that was awfully bold of her, but he'd already done so much for her. And she was really enjoying the time that they spent together. The mischievous voice in the back of her mind said that it didn't hurt to let him know just how interested she was.

EZ's breath hitched when her hand slipped into his, her smaller fingers intertwining with his. The gesture was casual, yet intimate, and it sent a spark of heat through his veins.

He looked down at their hands, then back up at her, a slight smirk on his lips. "Offend me?" he repeated, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Sweetheart, if I could see what you're thinking right now, I'd take you into that back room and show you just how much I appreciated it."

His words sent away of desire through her and she was tempted to make an even bolder move, but the exhaustion in her body was still too prevalent. And she knew, in some deeper mysterious way that she wanted her first time with him to be something more memorable. Sara squeezed his hand and then slipped hers from his grasp to rest her chin on her palm and stare at him.

"I'd be tempted to kiss you right now if it weren't for the fact that I'm sunburned to hell and probably smell about as good as roadkill. " An entire work shift and then hours walking in the sun would do that to a person.

"But I can't lie I'm looking forward to our date even more now. "

EZ chuckled at her comment and felt a pang of disappointment when she withdrew her hand. He wanted to keep touching her, to pull her close and feel her body against his. But the exhaustion in her body was obvious, and he knew better than to push it too far.

"You do smell a little ripe, I have to admit," he teased, his grin widening. "But I'm good at handling strong odors, so don't worry about it. " He paused, then added, "We should probably wait to start kissing anyway. I don't want to scare you away that fast."

He continued, "And I have no doubt that our date is going to be one hell of a time. Just make sure you get some rest first. I'd rather you not pass out on me while we're having fun."

EZ chuckled, watching her with a mixture of affection and amusement. Her exhaustion was still obvious, but there was something endearing about her stubborn insistence on keeping up their conversation despite it.