careless drinker

[Anonymous]

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Whenever I lose myself within the dreamworld, I awake to find my puppet meandering like a stray across the streets of some random village. Before I time to ponder the mysteries of motion and how the series of muscles and tendons seem to work, I stare through the thick pane, gazing at the emotionless facade as the puppet seemed to be staring in a stupor.. At a sign, no less. With my power of myself dwindling, my puppet seems limp and free.

I realized why my puppet's feet had let this scene play out before me. A tavern, a drink to loose myself in deluding liquids. Oh, what wonders would this day hold? A seemingly-lucid hallucination that would plague me to tomorrow's come? Perhaps.

Scribbling notes, watching as the worn mask on my face seems outwards, the darkness barely concealed. I am the only one who notices as my creation, my puppet, steps through the door towards bar in her silence that seems unshakeable. Or can I really give my puppet a gender?

Amarante's sweeping long, snow white hair hung behind her loosely, wearing a pair of breeches, a silk, white stocking beginning where the breeches ended at her knees. Her small feet were tucked into some sandals. Her ensemble was slightly masculine - but her true clothes were tucked into the sack she held, pulled close to stomach. She felt awkward in these clothes, but nonetheless she wore the loose shirt, breeches and such. But the only thing she cought true-blue gravity from was the staff griped in her left hand.

Her far-away green eyes quickly slipped downwards, falling onto the stool as she pulled herself onto it, ordering a drink in her quiet, whispering words. She curled her fingers around the glass when it came, offering the bartender some money as she brought the glass to her lips, the liquid leaving the glass nearly seconds after she had recieved it.

Ah, such a careless drinker.

Her fingers loosely danced across the intricate, beautiful designs along the staff, her sitting position as proper as ever. Old habits die hard, indeed.</font>

[Anonymous]

Well, a tavern wasn't the usual place to find her, that was for sure. Having a leisurely drink wasn't something she had time to do on most days, though she sure as hell wished she did have more time to do so.
She had to be the only Blade sister who drank...

Alistair shrugged it off, wandering casually into the darkened building without a care in the world. Slender hands were immediately rested on her hips, jade green eyes quickly sweeping for a place to sit that did not encompass some drunk-off-his-ass slob. The 18 year old easily found a seat next to the blank-faced girl at the bar, and took it. Her lightly tanned skin was covered by a pair of tan shorts, the ends folded up a bit to make them shorter, with two black suspenders hanging from them with no apparent purpose. Her tank top was white, though a scarlet scarf around her neck sharply contrasted the lack of color. Many braclets clinked with the movements of her hands as she attracted the attention of the bar tender, and then moved to readjust the small, spikey ponytail of blond hair at the back of her head. Her bangs were just barely too short to reach into the ponytail, and so sat on either side of her face. Propping her boots on the ring that circled the legs of the stool, Alistair turned slightly to address the stranger sitting next to her.

"Heya." She greeted the other woman cheerfully. Alistair was perfectly glad to speak randomly to people she did not know, whether they were used to it or not.

[Anonymous]

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I carefully observed my 'drowning' puppet, as she downed that foul-smelling liquid like their was no tomorrow. It did not surprise - I'll admit that rarely anything does. But I saw a shadow of a girl who looked similar in age to my puppet and I remembered the time when it had stopped aging, so I assume that the mysterious young woman is of 18 years. But I don't really know if it's true, but this shadow by puppet, like a plane hovering over my desolate isle.

Will it crash or pass?

I didn't recognize quickly enough the messenger boy who stood so silently, not a sound was made. I wondered if this alchohal my puppet so shamelessly ordered had been a little too powerful - or maybe I was the one who was lacking. Either way, my answer was late along with the responding action of my puppets despairingly blank green eyes. Like a babies yet to be imprinted on. Odd, how very odd. I know I look more detached then ever, and I can feel it, and I can only flutter the pages of the numerous notes I have taken over the course of years and years.

But my eyes never focus and all I can do is control that puppet with darkness seeping from the cracked mask she always bore.

Amarante's reaction, however late, lifted from her lips as hollowed out tones, like the breath of the wind itself. She made an effort to smile - it failed - and retried it, and the curve in her lips could hardly classify as even a smirk.

"Hello..." She responded, finding her eyes unable to focus on much.

Had she been sitting here long? Couldn't have been so, and she utterly baffled. Her mind swirled and the world began to dip and twist sickenling, making the room bubble and swirl around her, as if she was being stirred in a drink. The room she saw was through a amber haze and ----

My respresentive to the outside world seemed disoriented and confused, like she was about to dive into the deep end. I made an effort to save it - I could not bear to lose a puppet, that empty husk, for I need someone to hide within. Because if not, would could I possibly hide within?

Socialize, says the notes. And so I shall begin to subject that poor puppet to be even more battered by the world's playful hands.

"How're you?" She asked, her eyes drawn to the counter and she focused on each swirl, nitch, and groove.

Her fingers traced the staff, attempting to find gravity in anything that seemed real and lucid.

[Anonymous]

Alistair, in the strange pull of delayed silence of the other femme, ordered a small thing of sake to satisfy her thirst. By the time she had turned her attention back to the woman, she had finally composed an answer. A simple hello. Progress...
The Blade sister had to watch with one light eyebrow raised as her barmate threw back the drinks like they were water. It was not surprising when the other woman began to teeter dangerously on the brink of oblivion.

The sunny girl grinned at the other, taking her small white bottle of sake when it came and the small glass that came with it. "I'm quite fine, thank you for asking. You, on the other hand," And she poured herself a glass of the sake and drank the clear liquid down in one gulp, the fiery stuff bringing cheer to her heart, "look a tad bit drunk. Is the room spinning yet?" Her voice was good natured, not obnoxiously loud but loud enough to be heard over the rabble in the space around them.
She had already poured and downed another small shot of her drink, knowing it would take a good bit of this stuff to get her too buzzed to walk. However, she did not have the luxury of getting drunk. Ever.
Life was just too damn dangerous for her to risk it.

[Anonymous]

The world had swayed and ebbed dangerously, but the intrusion of Alistair's voice made a slender fingered hand grip her head, tightening her eyes she stood slowly, her legs wobbly beneath her. Despite being an ex-soldier, knowing the dangers of the world, her suicidal intentions, no matter how indirect, never ceased. The smell of liquor, and she felt a slight spark of being offended - the scent of sweaty people, her blood churning as she leaned on the bar. The world still dizzied her and she focused on Alistair, the too-cheery girl for this near morbid, dank place. Why, oh why, was she here?

"What is your name?" Emotionless, hollowed, and as she spoke the air seemed to shift, as if it was restless.

Her mind began to fail her, and some thoughts and ideas swirled and she barely managed to pay the bartender in a correct amount - she couldn't afford to completely loose herself within another glass. She sniffered slightly and closed her eyes. Blurred and swaying, dipping and twisting around in a dance. It mocked her and she wanted to scream - but her head was too sensitive for that. And plus, this wasn't the proper place to be out of conduct. Her luck she'd be thrown in the dungeon, saying she was driven mad. Or, at very least thrown out of the tavern in a bumbling stupor. That would not go well with her. No at all.

"Ah. Should've gotten.... myself a dose of sake," she said, however slurred.

Ah, letting loose of tradition, fair mistress? Indeed seemed so and she regretted it firmly, hanging her head as she slowly sat herself back down. Her arm was firmly around the bundle, keeping it to her side with furious determination. Her left hand never did leave the staff. It was her weapon. And sanity keeper.

[Anonymous]

Alistair was ready to catch the girl should she fall, her standing quite a few notches below stable. She swayed dangerously, and Alistair thought for a moment the woman was going to collapse on the bar. Woah...apparently she'd had a few more drinks than Alistair had originally suspected. The woman was wasted!
The question of her name was a bit unexpected, with the questioner on the verge of falling over and all.
"Uh, Alistair. You should probably sit back down..." She tried to coax, her voice reflecting the worry she felt. Last thing she wanted to see was some drunken young lady passed out cold with a split head or something...

Finally, the other sat back down, and Alistair was able to breath a bit easier and also let out a small laugh. "Yeah, it tends not to knock you off your ass until you're at least two bottles in." She joked, taking another shot of the nearly forgotten liquid. She paid for it, she might as well drink it, right?
"Well, I introduced myself, so, what's your name?"
The woman's clutching behavior had not gone unnoticed by Alistair. However, it really wasn't her place to ask why the woman had a death grip on that bundle and staff.

[Anonymous]

I have never found myself so far from the world.. Why do I do this when I long to be apart? This cycle never ends.. A circle in which I am encrypted within. While people die and some are reborn, I do not. I linger to watch those so dear age and erode away. And I... I am left untouched by the hands of time.

Amarante even swayed in her seat, a drunken dance as her torso seemed to weak, her hips to fragile. But her hands sought out the gravity the staff offered, her fingers even, if possible, paler as she clutched so fiercly at the engraved glory. She inhaled deeply, the breath rushing in to swell her chest while her eyes fluttered closed on distant emerald eyes. They flickered open as her eyes wandered to dear Alistair. She mustered, from her rerserves, a wane and a feeble smile, but it strengthened. Partially she wondered if she could smile because she was drunk, or because the girl's cheeriness was infectious.

"Amarante," she responded, and the wind shifted again, but it reclined to it's previous dormant nature.

"Over the years I grew such an immunity against sake," she mumbled more to herself, wether it was regret she didn't take the sake or making an excuse because she didn't, it wasn't clear.

"Oh dear.. People are beginning to come in pairs. And some are doubled," her vision wavered and as she watched people turn into twins and triplets and more she shivered and rubbed her eyes, licking the back of her wrist, hand still on the bundle.

Ah.. Well. At least she accomplished what she wanted to do. To get drunk.

[Anonymous]

Alistair watched the wavering stool dance, getting a bit dizzy herself just watching the poor girl wobble about like that. Still a bit too worried, Alistair placed a few slender, skilled fingers on the lady's shoulder, steadying her just that little bit. The smile was unexpected, but welcomed, and was probably a mix of both the alcohol and Alistair's infectious good mood.
Either way, she was more than glad to smile back, always friendly, but not overly much if she could help it.

"Amarante? Ooo, I like that name. Amarante." She laughed softly at her own obsurdity, so easily enamored with a name. But it was a pretty name, with a very mysterious side to it as well. It fit the drunken lady sitting next to her quite well.

Alistair giggled softly. "Dear, pairs and doubles are the same thing." And it was time to get this poor girl out of here. She was honestly on the verge of passing out, and Alistair would rather that happen in a more secure area. She threw a few more coins on the table to pay for the sake bottle that she calmly scooped up and shoved in one of the pouches on her leg. Somehow she got the oddly shaped bottle to stay, and then moved off the stool to help lower Amarante down as well. "Alright then friend, I think it's time we got you home. I know a good tea recipe that will help take the edge off the killer hangover you're sure to have tomorrow."
That recipe was courtesy of her little sister Kimi, of course.
"Come on hun, nice and easy off that stool."