Advertise/Affiliate Other Forum Main Page The World Before You Play

Highway to the Danger Zone [private]

Started by glorilyss, May 18, 2017, 09:32:10 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

glorilyss

If the definition of insanity was expecting new results to come from repetition, then Birdie was certifiably insane, and didn't seem to be able to change that.

One would think that after three nearly-consecutive, near-failed attempts at what should have been straightforward assassination gigs, that Birdie would have clued in to the fact that drinking on the job was not the safest action. Of course, one would also think that she would have stopped drinking in general, since it typically led to her making the sort of decisions that she invariably regretted ('Just like Mother warned, more's the bother,' she thought with the sort of self-deprecating weariness only truly possible when done silently and in the comfort of one's mind), but at this point, she was genuinely afraid that the accumulative hangover would kill her. Though, to be fair, tonight was shaping up to be one giant hangover, anyways: a long day, a longer night, and no conceivable end in sight.

Pressing a hand aggressively against the brilliant red bloom crawling across the cream of her blouse, partially obscured by the edge of the leather corset worn over the material, the tall elf-girl half-sagged against the wall of the alley, taking a steadying breath and gritting her teeth against the dizzying waves of nausea and pain that she seemed to be swimming in. Birdie supposed that she should have listened to her mother when she had suggested learning magic, too, though she'd never admit it. Even with the knife wound, she supposed that she'd rather bleed out quietly in the shadows than deal with that old nag crowing smug I-told-you-so's with that particular brand of triumph and concern that she'd had.

Setting her teeth savagely in her lower lip to muffle the quiet exhalation of a groan, she seemed to slowly melt against the bricks, shoulder sliding downward until she crouched against the wall. Her breathing was coming in fluttery, short pants, indignation warring with a muzzy chill that touched the back of her neck with sepulchral fingers. The thought alone made her roll her eyes; God, she got stabbed once tonight, and she thought she was dying. Fat chance of that; if only from sheer stubbornness alone, she wasn't going down just quite yet.

This mental shoring helped her back to her feet, though she hesitated for a moment, hovering between the way she'd come and the pathway before her. Quite decidedly, she turned around, sort of half-rolling along the wall until she faced the grimy depths of the alley. Her movements were a little jerky, but she hadn't come far; within a few paces, she was back by the crumpled body half-slumped against the wall and kneeling beside it. Her fingers found the edge of the bottle of rum that had fallen when she'd surprised the man, and the fact that it hadn't shattered was enough to make her consider taking up religion. She leaned back against the wall, nursing the bottle with the ferocity of a nanny. She'd find a healer soon - she just needed a minute and a drink. Or two.

Tags: