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| Viewing Single Post From: Dashed Upon the Rocks of Self-Esteem | |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 15 2009, 10:34 PM |
Love Thief
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Failure, something Freya LaShale was still a novice at accepting... It was bred into her that there was nothing worse in the world than losing, thus it had begun to take a fair tole on the pretty re-head. It consumed her mind so wholly that she didn't even remember to find a place to sleep tonight. Instead, she had wandered into the first bar she'd seen, purchased a nice-sized bottle of Whiskey, and commenced drinking it right from its mouth on the busy city street of Ildri. After a few painful swigs, the taste wasn't getting to her as much, and more went down smoothly until she stopped tasting it at all. Her cheeks were flush, practically the color of her hair, and the warmer her body became, the more clothes she was just discarding without regard to the probability of her losing them completely tonight. So, decked out in little more than her shirt, tea-stained with a low neck, the sleeves falling off both shoulders and cut just beneath her bust, and the patchwork pants which were probably her only pair of pants, she wandered drunkenly... Thieves had taken advantage of the situation, stealing the only money she had on her, but the necessity of money was far from her mind. If anything, she was glad to have the weight off her hip. They had attempted to steal Lucille as well, but hell seemed yet to have such scorn as a woman... particularly a wasted one looking to cut somebody. Such a huge city, and the sick feeling of loneliness still wouldn't let her go. She parked herself outside against a wall, turning her face to the sky, and rubbed a hand on her face. It remained there, due to the fact that once that was done, she didn't know really what to do with it, nor did she care. A passer-by mistook her for a beggar and tossed her some charity in the form of coins. They landed in her lap, and directly proceeding, her blade was drawn and being shaken in the nice man's face and he stared wide-eyed at her while she yelled at him in slurrs. He'd run off, of course, but the commotion had drawn the peacekeepers. "Ma'am, you can't be drunk in the streets like this..." one nudged her boot with his. Freya's eyes slowly rolled upwards at him, and she blinked slowly as if she couldn't comprehend a word he was saying. Regardless... "Where d'you s'pose I do this then?! HMM!?" another swig of the bottle. "Thieves stole my money. I have none left for a room..." "Then you can share ours," offered the other. "C'mon. Up you get." He reached down in an attempt to take her arm. "Besides... pretty little thing like you? Some fellows might get the idea to take advantage... Heh..." The guard's partner eyed him, knowing exactly what he planned to do. A moral itch of guilt crawled up the back of his neck, but... who would care? "Sure, why not..." she allowed him to take her arm and, with a little struggle, was finally standing - rather, swaying - on both feet again. "I don't care. Do with me what you will. What use am I anyways?" "You hear? She even consents! You want in on this, Bullik?" Oh, well, if she consents... Bullik, as he was now called, shrugged in compliance, "Sure, but we gatta get her out of here fast before anyone sees..." |
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| Dashed Upon the Rocks of Self-Esteem · The Hidden City of Ildri | |
