@Bugz26 group
Hey! I've never been good at taking constructive criticism, even if someone is very nice and explanatory about it… However, I'm asking for it now! (Of course, feel free to capitalize on what you think I did well too) I haven't finished the plot for my story, but here are a few random scenes that I've written.
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1) “That’s not my job Mr…”
“Ma- Mavin. Mr.Mavin”
“Okay Mr.Mavin, as you should know, I belong to the king. I can’t leave my post to go on a silly side quest with a strange man from across the country.”
He says this in a very straightforward manner. Words he seems to have practiced before, yet, he’s nonchalantly biting the inside of his left cheek, and there’s a certain glimmer of curiosity shining in his olive-colored eyes. I can use this to my advantage.
“Certainly, I understand that very well sir. However, I can’t help but believe that I am offering you a very good deal. Payment twice of what you make now, and the adventure of a lifetime.”
He takes the bait, shifting in his seat with restless anticipation. He doesn’t speak yet, waiting for me to continue… Curious. I do continue.
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2) My eyes stay closed but I feel a calloused hand lay on my face, ever so lightly, as if I may shatter if pressed any harder. Another hand pushes the few strands of my hair in my face out of the way, over top of my head. The hand on my hair slowly moves down to touch the other side of my face. I let myself sink into these hands, and for a moment I think they may pull away. Rather, they push a little harder, warming my cold cheeks. I hear a whisper close to my face. “Hm?” I hum quietly, wanting to know what words the whisper holds.
“Can I-“ Vincent’s voice is quiet, nervous. I open my eyes to see his staring back, closer than I’ve ever seen them. Well, not staring back, but staring slightly downwards, his line of sight dangerously close to that of my lips. His warm hands continue to hold my head up, but his thumb brushes lightly over my upper lip.
This can’t possibly be what he means- can it?
It’s very quiet. I hear the crackle of the bonfire a few feet away, and the loud chirping of crickets, hidden in the tall grass. He whispers again, even softer than before, adding to the forest’s tranquility. “Can I kiss you?” I can’t do anything but nod vigorously in return. My head is suddenly my own again, and I practically jump out of his hands. Vincent’s eyes widen for a moment, and his hands, having dropped, quickly return to their place of my cheeks. I don’t think that he wants time to contemplate his options. Instead, he propels himself forward, lips on mine in less than a second.
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3) Vincent walks straight up to the bar and I let him take the lead. I slowly follow, blending in with the crowd. Though I already know that I might regret my decision because the first thing Vincent does is slap down a few J.C.s on the counter and demands to see the owner of the bar. No use in staying low now. I straighten my posture and roll back my shoulders, assuming a confident stance. I slip my way through the rush-hour crowd and stand next to my associate. A burly yet tired-looking man saunters up from the other side of the bar to meet Vincent’s bold stare. The man holds a glass in his left hand and a small rag in his right. Although he appears worn and old, greying hair and wrinkles, his physique suggests that he can still do some damage. Better be wary.
“Vincent Criss. I’m sure you’ve heard of me,” Vincent says seriously, not an ounce of joking in his character. I shift my feet, nervous about how he will proceed. The bartender shakes his head as if he’s heard this same sentence a hundred times. He sets aside the items in his hands on a waitstaff cart and turns his full attention to Vincent. I feel my throat clenching as the overwhelming urge to say something captures my breath.
Bartender speaks. “Kid, I have no clue what you're talking about.” I’m almost relieved. Even if someone is a well-known person with a good reputation, they are bound to have some kind of opposition. A strong one, at that. I cannot be too relieved though. Vincent looks confused. Has he not encountered someone who doesn’t know his name before?
He continues.“Vincent Criss, the chief of Judalm’s royal-”
“Royal Inn. My pal Vincent here,” I throw an arm around his shoulders and he is quick to push me off. I chuckle. “He works at a theatre a mere few miles out of the city. It is called the Royal Inn after the genre of plays the company produces. Everyone loves knights and shining armor these days, am I right? Now, Vincent gets a bit egotistical when he’s sloshed, so don’t mind this ‘I’m sure you have heard of me’ business.” I cut him off before he really chucks himself in the deep end and flash a bright smile toward Bartender. I don’t dare to look at Vincent, as I’m sure he isn’t pleased with my assistance.
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4) “This is what drives me crazy about you!” he turns to me and I jump at how quickly he whips around, a look of anger worn on his face. I open my mouth, about to ask what he means when he cuts me off. “You’re so…” he throws his hands down, letting out a shaky breath and staring at the ground. I didn’t expect this. His expressions of anger in the past have always been quick and dry. I feel a tug at my side and look down to see him gripping the edge of my coat in a tight fist. He is as far as he can be from me while still remaining a bit of contact. I always took him to be someone who likes to be left alone when upset. Still, he fiddles the material in his hand, remaining with his head lowered.
We stand there for a long moment and I am unable to speak. That is until Vincent lifts his head. There is a gaslight on the wall left of us which gives off a soft warm glow onto his skin, and the salty tears on his cheeks shimmer. Then along with that, the redness around his eyes leaves the light green in his irises to shine. Is it wrong to think he looks beautiful right now? Such a pretty crier for someone who rarely sheds a tear. It’s as if my body moves on its own and suddenly I’ve stepped closer and lifted a hand to his cheek. I do stop myself before I actually touch him, though I complete the intended action just a moment afterward. Almost instantly he leans into my touch, closing his eyes. I swear I see him smile for a sliver of a second.