[ P ] On the rocks

His head ached. There was a hard line between his brows and a tension in his shoulders as he wandered aimlessly through the city. His eyes were downcast, as if there were something of interest to be seen in the weather-beaten cobblestone and not in the faces of the wolves he passed. In reality, the opposite was true. But he didn't want to see their faces. Didn't want to look them in the eyes. What if they saw him for what he truly was?

His lips quirked at that. They can't see me, he thought, a strange blend of satisfaction and bitterness coursing through him. They'll never see me. They may as well be blind.

Normally, it took Florin very little effort to keep up the façade. He'd had plenty of practice, after all. A broken teacup pretending to be whole ever since he was a child. But the façade grew marginally weaker when he was drunk. And tonight he was very drunk. He never should have gone to that damned pub. But he'd traveled so far, and he'd been so thirsty. One drink hadn't been enough. So he'd had two. But then two had turned into three, four, five...

The cobblestones began to blur, and an intense nausea rose up within him. He stopped in the middle of the street, his body going rigid as he fought back the urge to vomit. Slowly but surely, his stomach settled, and he kept walking. This time he lifted his eyes enough to find the riverbank and redirect his path. If he was going to vomit, he wanted to do so away from pitying eyes.

He was only a few paces from the water when another rush of nausea came over him. "Shit," he muttered. He gritted his teeth and ran the last few paces, forgoing a small, reasonable sip for submerging his entire head in the water. Unconventional, perhaps, but it worked. The shock of the icy water chased the nausea away. As soon as his stomach had settled again, Florin lifted his head from the water and shook himself dry. He settled on the ground and rolled onto his side, letting his legs splay. "What a mess," he sighed.

The teacup had cracked, but it wasn't tea that he'd spilled. It was blood.

How much more would he spill before his thirst was quenched?

— ✦ —
@ Sybil or Nalik lol

table ; bunny

do not press this,
I am relentless.

He seethed. His temper hadn't been so out of control in years, since his youth. There was comfort in its familiar warmth, but there was also chaos. He needed an outlet. His mind still churned with his wifes words. He's my husband! The thought alone was enough to drag a growl from the back of his throat. He had been entirely unprepared for the wolf his wife had become in the four years since he had last seen her. Some aspects about her remained unchanged, like the way she so predictably crumpled beneath his wrath. But the efforts she had made to move on, she was truly tricked herself into believing that he was done with her.

He walked the waters edge, allowing the brisk night air to wash over him, though it was a vain attempt to soothe him. Long strides ate up the distance he walked as he headed back towards the main part of town. With only one thing on his mind, he barely took notice of the wolf stumbling in the distance. Merrin consumed his thoughts, commanding his attention in a way she had not done so in the past.

It was the splashing of water that drew his emerald gaze. A scowl seemed permanently pressed onto his face. His hackles still teetered on the edge of bristling. He looked every bit unapproachable. What a mess. He fully intended to walk the drunk wolf who was now wet. The older wolfs nose wrinkled in disgust. "More like a disgrace." He grumbled, a lip lifting in a sneer. The stranger was sprawled on the beach, probably regretting the choices that led him to this point.

@Florin

talk like this.

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He looked out across the river, black as the night sky above. Starlight flickered in its gently churning waves. Now that the nausea had passed, he felt a sort of freedom in his inebriation. He could see the world much more clearly without the hindrance of the mask he usually wore. Still, he knew he couldn't cast it aside entirely. Not if he wanted to stay free—or alive, for that matter. Some would gladly see him executed for the things he had done.

"...a disgrace."

Still basking in his freedom, Florin slowly made eye contact with the stranger. Piercing green eyes, like twin emeralds. Florin could practically feel the anger rolling off him. It burned in his eyes, trembled in his bones. So much heat. Florin felt an echo of it in his core as he imagined watching the light leave those eyes. Feeling all that heat give way to cold.

Three seconds had passed, and that was all it took for him to remember himself. He blinked rapidly and averted his eyes. He let out an embarrassed laugh. "You really know how to kick a man when he's down, don't you?" His words slurred together a bit, making his accent more pronounced. He stared at the ground between the stranger's front paws. "But you're right, I suppose. A bit disgraceful for a man of my age to be so, ah..." he searched for the word, blue eyes skimming the river again. "Intemperate."

A pointed jab at the other, if he was perceptive enough to catch it. After all, temperance applied to more than drink. What had ignited such anger within him? Florin was curious, but held his tongue for the time being. No sense in poking at the hornet's nest, especially when he was too inebriated to properly fight back.

— ✦ —
@Nalik

table ; bunny

do not press this,
I am relentless.

There was a brief pause, as the stranger simply stared before seeming to remember himself. Embarrassed, the man chuckled before slurred words had a short chuckle spilling from his own lips. "I do." Literally and figuratively. He hadn't survived war because he let downed man the chance to stand. This man made it far too easy though, he reeked of booze.

But he did manage to sneak in a jab of his own. A subtle comment about age had the faintest shimmer of amusement crossing his features. It was always someone younger than wanted to remind the older wolf that they were younger. He heard plenty of it in the army. "I guess only time will tell if you get better with age." He mused dryly. He would not admit out loud that after his run in with Merrin, he hadn't briefly entertained the idea of losing himself in the bottom of a glass.

The mere thought of her had the warm rush of anger returning. He could still feel the dull ache where she had kicked him. Perhaps he deserved it, after all the times he laid a heavy hand upon her. It left his mind spinning with conflicting emotions.

@Florin

talk like this.

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