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Entry tags:
Wine hath drowned more men than the sea.
Who: Summoner and who the heck ever
When: Late evening/very early morning
Where: Deep in the forest within the bubble
Style: Prose & action both welcomed
Status: Open
All right.
He needs a drink already.
Lysunder's been doing extremely well lately with not indulging in spirits, though he quite enjoys human liquor. He knows he shouldn't- but, damnit. He's been trying to talk to people, be his regular self, get out there, confide in those he can, granted it's a very small number, but it's not the same without him to speak to as they did when he first came here.
So now he needs a drink, and buzz off anyone that disagrees, it's not like it'll kill him-
Hopefully.
Summoner's hand curls around the bottle neck tight as he leans against a tree, ass to the grass and wings sloppily folded between he and the tree trunk. The red haired troll stares lazily at the dark canopy, watching to a smaller amount of animal eyes and usual, not communing with the creatures nearby as much while he sits there intoxicated.
"Sorry guys, but you ain't Pyral, eh, ya can fly but i's still not the same." A smirk, watching some small birds linger on a branch above before he swirls the bottle and moves it up to tip back and swallow. The burn is good by this point, he can barely feel it besides the warmth and he's having a hard time slowing everything down around him. Also good. He wants that. It helps him just sink down and enjoy the chill around him as he completely avoids thinking about his problems, even just for a few hours.
It's better to sometimes just sit and do nothing, right? Just not face your problems for a bit. Just... be.
Even if he really does know better.
When: Late evening/very early morning
Where: Deep in the forest within the bubble
Style: Prose & action both welcomed
Status: Open
All right.
He needs a drink already.
Lysunder's been doing extremely well lately with not indulging in spirits, though he quite enjoys human liquor. He knows he shouldn't- but, damnit. He's been trying to talk to people, be his regular self, get out there, confide in those he can, granted it's a very small number, but it's not the same without him to speak to as they did when he first came here.
So now he needs a drink, and buzz off anyone that disagrees, it's not like it'll kill him-
Hopefully.
Summoner's hand curls around the bottle neck tight as he leans against a tree, ass to the grass and wings sloppily folded between he and the tree trunk. The red haired troll stares lazily at the dark canopy, watching to a smaller amount of animal eyes and usual, not communing with the creatures nearby as much while he sits there intoxicated.
"Sorry guys, but you ain't Pyral, eh, ya can fly but i's still not the same." A smirk, watching some small birds linger on a branch above before he swirls the bottle and moves it up to tip back and swallow. The burn is good by this point, he can barely feel it besides the warmth and he's having a hard time slowing everything down around him. Also good. He wants that. It helps him just sink down and enjoy the chill around him as he completely avoids thinking about his problems, even just for a few hours.
It's better to sometimes just sit and do nothing, right? Just not face your problems for a bit. Just... be.
Even if he really does know better.
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"I wake up whenever I need to, spend most of my time with uh- with the troops, trying to plan everything, trying to make sure the troop I'm with understands their duty. The beasts are easier since I can use direct influence." A shrug, pausing before finding the words again.
"My days consist of ambushes and battles and constant planning. The ambushes come from our side or the highblood's, and there's always death in either direction. I keep to the skies to direct mostly so a majority of my life involves being um, up there, but not all of it, I fight alongside my men and Pyral when necessary."
"I scout, a lot. Usually with fellow psionic users, we count deaths and potential points to lay down camp, as well as any numbers of the other side-" And he stops, taking in a deep breath.
"She's al- you're always there, usually, you do whatever the fuck you want most of the time, but some how that's usually still some where I can find you. You talk a lot but-" His eyes open, glancing down to the ground.
"I'm usually pretty all right with it. I enjoy your company, my followers company. I guess I uhh, I get uncomfortable sometimes, around them, but I get more and more used to the life every day. I can't imagine doing anything else anymore." And he'll grab the bottle and pull back a drink, shutting up.
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She yawns a little. "I ever take you sailing?"
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