This takes place several months after the last story & was written in September 2010. Nicia & Daniel have been together during that time, and life keeps throwing dramas and obstacles in their way. After their lives were put at risk by a riot situation that they knowingly walked into (for the sake of saving his sister), they make some time to reconnect with one another…
Once again, the character of Daniel belongs to Jesse.
On the banks of the river, he lay me down. His muscled arms held him above me, his green eyes brilliant, his expression gentle with that way he looks at me and me alone, the girl he loves.
He wants to focus on carpentry. He doesn’t want to fight any more. He says he can’t lose me and I kept wondering what makes him so frightened that I’d leave him — but now, I think he worries about himself. He wants to give me something beyond a soldier, beyond that coarse, burly, tortured fighter everyone else sees; he knows that if he is fighting, I want to be at his side, because as much as he can’t bear the thought of me being in danger, I can’t bear the thought of leaving him to face it alone.
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Posted in story
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Tagged Nicia
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Quiet footfalls whispered across the wooden floors as a figure crossed her dark bedroom. It was as pristine as the rest of the apartment, with thick curtains drawn across the single window. Several photographs indiscernible in the darkness were the sanctum’s only concession to decoration. Illuminated by the light spilling in from the living area, a single lamp stood atop a nightstand alongside the bed, where the slender, pale limbs of a sleeping blonde protruded from a tangle of bedsheets.
The lamp was flicked on, and a hand grabbed her shoulder. “Get up,” rasped a familiar voice as she was shaken from sleep.
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Every time I think about the people that Leah’s known & cared for & forgotten, I’m incredibly saddened. It’s tragic.
I’m writing a little story for her right now about her relationship with someone she doesn’t remember. Can’t wait to share it with you all, although it’s currently a VERY VERY rough draft.
I wrote this back in June 2010. Nicia’s a university student studying dance (or theatre… kinda up in the air), and Daniel’s a veteran of Iraq who escaped on his own after being tortured for a year. They’ve just hooked up, despite the advice from everyone she knows to stay away from him because they say he’s mentally unstable and violent.
These two are absolutely one of the most interesting & engaging couples I’ve ever written about. Their relationship is dark and beautiful and I really want to share more about them with you all at some point. Maybe. But their story should be a novel, so, maybe not!
Oh, and for full disclosure: Daniel is not my character; he belongs to Jesse. I’m just lucky enough to get use him as I want 
Nicia groaned as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and raked a hand through her wild, dishevelled hair. Every inch of her body ached with a sweet sort of tenderness, as though she’d been running all night, but she certainly hadn’t.
She’d been with Daniel.
She gazed at him, stretched out on the bed with his back to her. She’d not had much chance to look at him, truly, last night, to study that muscled body.
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Posted in story
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Tagged Nicia
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Part 3 of 3. You can find Part 1 here, Part 2 here.
Leah drops to the ground. Coarse asphalt bloodies her palms as she skitters away from Taqlid on hands and knees. “Remember what, you crazy Arab fuck?”
“Remember what you were,” he replies.
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Posted in log
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Tagged Kat, Leah, Taqlid
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Part 2 of the Holden/Leah dinner. Neither of us have had a lot of time to write with one another so we keep just doing little bits here & there when we can. Part 1 is here.
“Well, let’s not wait on ceremony,” Holden says, picking up his burger. “Dig in.”
Leah stabs a crouton, but she’s still interested in talking. “So are you the original driver of this theoretical car?”
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Posted in log
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Tagged Holden, Leah, Taqlid
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This takes place some time after Leah’s last meeting with Kat & Holden where they return to her apartment, but before the story snippet with Taqlid showing up in her bedroom.
As they descended the wooden stairway into the Elk’s Head Gastropub, Leah Sunneborne couldn’t help but find herself amused at Holden’s idea of an appropriate place to bring her for dinner. Not that she really minded — there was something to be said for the heavy wooden architecture hidden behind the neon signs decorating the walls — but this was definitely not a place she would ever have chosen for them to go. Still, they were hungry, and food was food.
They slide into a booth in one of the corners, across the table from one another. The bright red upholstery had seen better days, and Leah scoots right up against the wall to find a spot that isn’t tattered or worn.
Holden puts his feet up, under the table, stretching out luxuriously. “This place is great, trust me,” he says for perhaps the fourth time.
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Posted in log
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Tagged Holden, Leah
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We started working on some actual narrative writing, vs. the roleplay we’d been doing, last night. Here’s a little peek at what we’ve come up with so far….
Quiet footfalls whispered across the wooden floors as he entered her bedroom. As pristine as the rest of the apartment, with thick curtains drawn across the single window, several photographs indiscernible in the darkness were this sanctum’s only concession to decoration. Illuminated by the light spilling in from the living area, a single lamp stood atop a nightstand alongside the bed, where the slender, pale limbs of a sleeping blonde protruded from a tangle of bedsheets.
He flicked on the lamp and grabbed the girl’s shoulders. “Get up,” he commanded, shaking her from her sleep.
Although she awoke slowly, the moment Leah realized there was actually someone in her bedroom her hands shot out from under the blankets. Her burning fingers wrapped around the intruder’s forearms. Nothing happened. Her eyes widened as she recognized the person in front of her. “Taqlid?” He was obviously injured, with a long gash that ran the length of his face, and several wounds that looked to have been caused by a wild animal on his forearms. His appearance, which had seemed so immaculate the last time she had met him, was completely disheveled. His shirt was wet and stained with red. She rubbed her face vigorously, but the horrific, bloodied visage dominating her sight remained. “What are you doing here? What happened to you?”
Have you ever worked in a Google Document with someone? Jesse and I were checking it out for the first time to do some writing together, and after a few hours things started to get a little… I dunno… dissolute.
And just for clarity’s sake, that’s not actually a part of the narrative here.
After doing some more brainstorming about Taqlid, Jesse asked if we could re-do the scene where he meets Leah. This is the new scene (the old one is here). So basically, this is what happened — think of the other scene as a first draft and this as the edit!
New York City is home to many privately-owned small museums and galleries. One such place is tucked into a small, brick-fronted building on a picturesque side street in the Garment District. The brass sign outside is embossed with the word ‘Konarak’. Inside, the floors are tiled with brilliant red and gold; it seems that a photography exhibit is currently featured, as several temporary walls have been erected and decorated with photos of what might be called urban decay.
Leah sits curled in an armchair near the door, a sketchpad in her lap. Her fingers are stained with the charcoal she’s using to draw.
A figure pushes open the door, and steps into the gallery. He is Arabic, perhaps thirty, clean-shaven and neatly groomed. His black hair is cut short. He is dressed well, though conservatively, in a… (clothes here, just imagine shit idk), but there is something about him… the way he surveys the room, his fluid, noiseless movements. He approaches reception and simply waits, hands clasped together in front of him, until Leah acknowledges his presence.
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