Tanja - On Love
Is this written in the POV of the character? Yes
What is love to you?
Section titled “What is love to you?”Messy feelings that get in the way, especially in dire situations.
How are you when in love
Section titled “How are you when in love”We’re not getting into that.
(Love is mechanical to Tanja. She has a system in place, as most do in her circumstances. Time is neatly set aside for them to simply coexist, under the covers by the flickering night stand. Her presence solid and her eyes soft, yet she flinches still at every slight movement.)
Habits
Section titled “Habits”Next.
(Fairly traditional, fairly domestic. Social norms are one she learnt in her younger years, with two affectionate parents as her basis for love. There are rules in place, to be the doting partner they ought to be. Morning kisses, soft embraces, and fluffy omelets. Light walks, coffee dates, and pillow talks. At the end of each month, she’ll bring her lover to bed and bring them to the heights of ecstasy as best as she could. Everything is in place.)
Ask game
Section titled “Ask game”Between your family and your lover, who would you choose?
Section titled “Between your family and your lover, who would you choose?”@urfriendlywriter on tumblr
Lover.
(Her parents are rather tough despite their appearances. She knows they’ll live, and she knows they value her deeply. They won’t be hurt by this decision, and she’s very sure about that fact.)
Between you and your lover, who would you choose?
Section titled “Between you and your lover, who would you choose?”@urfriendlywriter on tumblr
…Lover.
(She’ll survive. If she could go 30 years existing the way she did, what’s one more?)
A gun on their hand, pointed at their beloved.
Section titled “A gun on their hand, pointed at their beloved.”modified from @urfriendlywriter on tumblr
The gun was forced onto her, a Smith & Wesson revolver. It appears to be one of the more common types, etched with what seems to be a logo of sorts. The handgun fits awkwardly in her too-big hands, the handle too cold too the touch.
Or perhaps its the sudden feeling of trepidation instead of any tangible sense. Goodness knows the number of times she burned her palms to the point of unfeeling.
Alas, the situation demands her focus. It seems as though some unsavory figures have taken them hostage. Truly unfortunate that it came down to this, but there’s no time for hesitation.
They are asking for their blood, perhaps to see if she’ll break and give in to their demands. Ha. As if she knows when to quit. Besides, they really shouldn’t have used them as a bargaining chip in the first place.
Her eyes steeled, the gun moves to point to her lover’s heart. The muzzle doesn’t shift, the cylinder fully loaded. One shot and they die, unless she does something.
(Hmm, and there’s a thought.)
The man before her waits impatiently, a hand tucked into his threadbare slacks where the other holds a cigar. Long slender fingers and an overall wiry frame; he handled her roughly, yes, but he never meant any physical harm.
(They want Tanja Jelen alive.)
Do they deserve such honor? No, not at all. But Tanja is a survivor, and she wants to live for once. If not for herself, then for them.
With a soft scoff, she pulled her hand back, aiming the muzzle to the left side of her chest, just shy of where the left ventricle should be. And before anyone could protest, the gun fires.
(The cops took it as a sign to enter, and the paramedics make quick work of her. They’re both safe at the end; the shot may be fatal, yes, but frankly? She’s survived worse.)
(Being prepared is a virtue, and knowing your own conditions is paramount. Isolated Dextrocardia. Who knew that tidbit could turn into a little party trick?)