In the Cards

//The following sets the background (non-passage space) to a deep grey, using Chapel's built in colour tint system. config.style.backdrop: "gray-9" //The following sets the font to the default, in order of appearance, with a fallback of any default serif font on the device, size 18 font. config.style.page.font: "Iowan Old Style/Constantia/Georgia/serif 18" //The following sets the colour of the text (white) on the colour of the passage (dark grey) config.style.page.color: "white on gray-8" //The following styles links, first as they appear by default (pink), and then when they are hovered over/clicked (red.) config.style.page.link.font: "underline" config.style.page.link.color: "pink-6" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "pink-8" config.style.page.link.active.color: "red-8 on gray-9" //The following styles the header and footer's appearance in terms of font styling and size- the title and RESTART command of the story. config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center> <h1>[[In the Cards->1]]</h1> sophia de augustine {reveal link: 'ABOUT', text: 'In the Cards is a 500 word excerpt from the WIP The Love We Buried. This was entered into the Neo-Twiny Jam, 2024.'} </center>

Donovan's jaw tenses. “Just a delivery, for me- go ahead and start, I'll jump in next round,” he says, waving a hand in dismissal. He shrugs on his battered leather jacket, the silver piercings studding his face gleaming in the low light. The gathered men [[don't stop him->2]].

When he brushes past, Donovan doesn't move to hold eye contact- keeping his dark gaze fixed ahead. The door creaks as it swings open- though he throws a hand backwards to catch it, before it can slam shut. He shoves his other hand into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a silver lighter: engraved with [[a musical note->3]].

“What are you doing here?” he asks. His voice isn't unkind, if brusque. The alleyway is cold, the brickwork scuffed and barren of tatty posters. Donovan pinches the bridge of his nose, before he sighs. He makes a show out of tapping his box of cigarettes on the palm of his opposite hand, flicking the lighter: though he doesn't smoke, returning both props back [[to his pockets->4]].

“Don't answer that. Let's just get you home,” he says, offering his arm. “It's not safe to be out and about, this late.” The moonlight casts his face into sharp shadow, the harsh planes of bone illuminated in bright relief. “I don't even know how you found me, to be honest. Thought I was a bit sneakier than that!” he laughs, though the sound is airier, emptier than the warm fullness around [[that cards table->5]].

He chews the inside of his cheek. Curls of dark smoke coalesce, inkily staining the night air as he heaves a sigh. “Look- forget you saw anything back there, yeah? I can take care of myself. I know the crowd I'm rolling with- and I know them well enough that I don't want you involved with them. Keep your head low, the next few days- don't open the door for [[any unexpected packages->6]].”

He gestures to the motorcycle parked on the street, all gleaming chrome and well polished black. “Hop on- hold tight. I'll drive you back,” he says. “Least I can do is make sure you get home safe.” He rummages around in the saddlebag, tossing a spare helmet: straps his own securely in place, visor obscuring [[his intense stare->7]].

The engine roars to life, humming its way through the city streets. Cracked amber light filters through the dark. Donovan is silent on the way back, body language tense, even as he pulls to [[a smooth stop->8]].

“I shouldn't walk you up,” he says, taking his helmet off. He shakes his head, as if to clear it- tanned face lightly flushed. “It'd draw too much attention. Already have. They're expecting me back- stay indoors, okay? Don't head on out. Don't let anyone else on up. Text me,” he adds- before Donovan [[watches expectantly, waiting->9]].

He stands silent sentinel, until the foyer doors close, until the night swallows him whole, a fleeting vision in leather and metal on [[the city streets.->start]]