Post by opossum on Jan 13, 2014 21:36:48 GMT -8
Alone pyral sat in his nest. Atop the old house he shared with many a companion, now just him and Corvi. The home itself drab, quiet, boring. Tv's off. Time stopped. The world outside spinning while the floorboards stood still.
Pyral you can't get drunk.
"Shut up." he grumbled, taking a large bottle of heavy rum to his lips. He downed it, not even bothering to mention it's burn he just wills it away. A good half of it stops before he flops down," I miss it. The moments I've had with friends. Where our inhibitions are thrown like caution to the wind. Gone to parties. Had the orgies....Damnit if I WANT to get DRUNK I can fucking MANAGE. I'm FAE, If I fucking BELEIVE IT. I'LL MAKE IT FUCKING HAPPEN. Potential is my bitch in this day and age, no winter, no banality, No disbelief can fucking stop that."
No. You don't understand. You Physically, and Spiritually CANT. You're too tolerant of it. Even the awakened shit wont do anything.
" VOICE. IN. MY. FUCKING. HEAD....I hope you choke....not die or anything, but next time you're enjoying that imaginary hamburger I think about in the future, that that first bite gets caught for a few seconds. Just a few. " he takes another long swig till only about a 1/4th of the bottle remains. " Everything...is permitted...and TRUTH IS A LIE!" he says, throwing the bottle against the wall. Hissing loudly as it smashes against his door from his frustrations. The left over alcohol wafting about the room, glass shattering to the floor in a scattered pile. Soaked with the boozy deliciousness. He sobbed a bit and just sighed," The...only rule is there are none....But sometimes I yearn for the simple pookah years I once had. I am not one to back down though.." He flopped back into the pile of garments and blankets he used as his nesting-bed. Grabbing a black old blanket from his bed-stand. Full of holes, full of memories. Full of....something. He brings it to his face, and inhales deeply, sniffling a bit as he immediately cuddles to the poor old cloth and exhales with a long, drawn breath," Sometimes I wish I could remember mum. You going to tell me Not to care about that now too?"
The voice does not respond. Pyral merely looks about the room and grumbles before curling up to sleep,"I'll figure out how to do anything, and everything. There's..." he yawns," There's nothing I...can't...accomplish..."
Pyral you can't get drunk.
"Shut up." he grumbled, taking a large bottle of heavy rum to his lips. He downed it, not even bothering to mention it's burn he just wills it away. A good half of it stops before he flops down," I miss it. The moments I've had with friends. Where our inhibitions are thrown like caution to the wind. Gone to parties. Had the orgies....Damnit if I WANT to get DRUNK I can fucking MANAGE. I'm FAE, If I fucking BELEIVE IT. I'LL MAKE IT FUCKING HAPPEN. Potential is my bitch in this day and age, no winter, no banality, No disbelief can fucking stop that."
No. You don't understand. You Physically, and Spiritually CANT. You're too tolerant of it. Even the awakened shit wont do anything.
" VOICE. IN. MY. FUCKING. HEAD....I hope you choke....not die or anything, but next time you're enjoying that imaginary hamburger I think about in the future, that that first bite gets caught for a few seconds. Just a few. " he takes another long swig till only about a 1/4th of the bottle remains. " Everything...is permitted...and TRUTH IS A LIE!" he says, throwing the bottle against the wall. Hissing loudly as it smashes against his door from his frustrations. The left over alcohol wafting about the room, glass shattering to the floor in a scattered pile. Soaked with the boozy deliciousness. He sobbed a bit and just sighed," The...only rule is there are none....But sometimes I yearn for the simple pookah years I once had. I am not one to back down though.." He flopped back into the pile of garments and blankets he used as his nesting-bed. Grabbing a black old blanket from his bed-stand. Full of holes, full of memories. Full of....something. He brings it to his face, and inhales deeply, sniffling a bit as he immediately cuddles to the poor old cloth and exhales with a long, drawn breath," Sometimes I wish I could remember mum. You going to tell me Not to care about that now too?"
The voice does not respond. Pyral merely looks about the room and grumbles before curling up to sleep,"I'll figure out how to do anything, and everything. There's..." he yawns," There's nothing I...can't...accomplish..."