Up in the north, existence was harsh. Even in the well sheltered spaces occupied by his ilk, death was no stranger. Valys and his fellow elves were, after all, carnivorous, and he'd gone hunting on more than one occasion with his opo, out snaring crystal-white hares and shooting the great, angry, gluttonous wolverines that might otherwise have sought to steal their kills.
Life was harsh. Sometimes, the hare would wriggle loose, and take off in great bounding leaps across the icy snowscape, until the winds and surrounding blankness hid it from further view. Sometimes, there was simply no helping the strength of the trap, the tightness of the rope, the stability of the knot. And once Valys had laid his hands down one of these captured creatures, that was the end of it.
A snap of the neck, and it was all over.
When Pallaton pulled away as he did, pinched his nose as he did, shook his head as he did... in that moment, Valys felt a bit more like the hare than he had ever intended. Caught, fluttering, and now with the pressure of a hand at his throat and just shy of the moment where he, too, would go limp and be done with it. Pallaton put his hands on his arms, around his middle, but the hold was so familiar to Valys at this point there was no escaping the sterile implications of it.
He'd been dragged from bars before, after all. Plenty enough to know what was coming— a whole heap of fucking nothing. Valys licked his lips, but his mouth was overdry, and he was already being led far away from the glasses and tumblers and all the amber golden forgetfulness each of them promised.
And that was the state in which Valys was delivered to his own. Head swimming and chest an open, empty cavern. The contrast to before was agonizing, but he was entirely too far gone to put any of it to words. Even if he could speak, it would only be wild, slurring nonsense, which might have been a bit of a comfort if he weren't feeling quite so sharply.
"You all wear stuffy things, Regent," he said, slow and deliberate as if they were the most important things in the world, "even when you think you're not."
"Oh, hell." A third voice came out of nowhere, or so Valys thought, and in a flurry of movement that threatened to turn his stomach, he was pulled from Pallaton's grip and into much stronger arms. Valys hissed, teeth bared at such an intrusion, such familiarity, the briefest of passing contact between Ana and Pallaton setting his blood to boil well beyond what he was capable of processing.
All the better that he was passed off as soon as possible, lifted up and brought deeper into the borrowed apartments their delegation had been gifted. Still, it wasn't far enough to cease hearing that soulful song in his bones, or the fading conversation between Ana and the Regent and all the apologies in the world.
For a blissful, blackened moment, Valys felt nothing but the bed beneath him. But it was only for a moment, because a swift hand caught the heel of his foot— somehow, his boots had been removed in the process of getting him on the bed.
"Just what the hell were you thinking!" Ana hissed, his own teeth bared in a fangy snarl unlike anything Valys had ever had a chance to witness before. It made him wonder what Ana needed bodyguards for, at least until the other elf took another swat at him and had him hissing in return.
"Fuck off!"
"Valys Dei I will personally skin you alive if you've gone and ruined everything by being an idiot!"
"Ruined what? Ruined what? There's nothing for me to ruin. It's already done. There's nothing. He's so old, Ana, he's so fucking old, he has a son. He has a daughter."
"What, the distillery?" Rhosiris quipped, popping up out of nowhere in his gruff, silent way and finishing up the unhappy task of getting Valys out of his good clothes before he ruined them.
"The Regent," Valys spat back, flesh heating wild and hot between the alcohol and his own frantic feelings. At that Rhosiris's mouth snapped shut, and he turned alarmed, golden eyes onto Anastolyr, who looked back with just as much knowing fear. Mixed as it was, of course, with mild self-serving relief that this wasn't their own fate.
The selfish fucking pricks. Valys snarled again, and slumped back against the pillows, eyes shut tight and willing the world to stop spinning so violently.
"You felt it?" Ana asked, a bit more quietly. A bit more gently. A bit more better with words than marching right up to a man who'd already had his family and outright offering to have him on the office floor.
"He wanted to know what he sounded like," Valys grumbled, pulling one pillow over his face and fighting the urge to scream. Fought and lost, and between the sharp edges of his nails and how forcefully he had to hold it to prevent anyone from thinking he'd been murdered, Valys pulled the pillow away with a fair trail of feather stuffing left behind.
"I fucking hate this country," Valys said with an air of finality that decided it would be best if he was allowed to sleep this off.
——
It was easily midday by the time Valys woke up again, mouth drier than if it had been salted and with a splitting headache to match. He cracked his eyes open, hissed at the agony the sunlight brought, and snapped them shut again. It took some shambling to get out of bed, a slow shuffle to the nearby washbasin. He picked up the jug that was meant to fill the sink and took a solid gulp of water from it, before pouring the rest into the wide, low bowl and promptly dunking his face into it.
Sopping wet but mildly more himself, Valys set to the task of washing and redressing himself. It was late, and the apartments were quiet. Which meant that more than likely, his companions had decided to leave him in merciful sleep while they went about their day wherever that might have taken them.
Which meant, of course, that Valys had no reason to act properly, and thus was free to take whatever fool notion popped in his head and just... run with it.
Like how the only cure for a hangover was a bit of the poison that'd caused his suffering. Cora'mate. Hair of the dog. He distantly remembered the tour of the castle he'd been given, those memories thankfully well beyond his inebriation and so still somewhat useful to him.
Strapping on his boots and belt, and then his jacket over it all, Valys strode out of the borrowed apartments, and set about the task of finding something to eat and, more importantly, something to drink, and certainly not caring for whomever he might have passed in the halls and offended with his disheveled state.
The kitchens, at least, were a bit more like Valys was used to: big and crowded and with plenty of food stashed away in barrels or hanging overhead, bustling with movement as the midday lunch plans were put into effect for all the other residents of the castle.
It was certainly enough movement for him to snatch up a plate of what seemed to be slices of beef and walk out with it unnoticed, tearing into a thin strip with his teeth and easily rending it into more manageable bites as he wandered out and into the castle courtyard. And promptly sneezed at the sudden wafting of pollen from the overabundant gardens.