Post by Prince Reese de Somerville on Apr 25, 2009 20:30:55 GMT -5
Set two weeks after the Beltane Fete, just before the plague. Year one of Queen Sabrina's reign.
Words swirled in my head as I sat lop sided on my stool, Juliette's words, my words, even Gratien's words. They all spun around in my head, a cacophany of dirty sounds and broken promises. Things did not go well between Juliette and I, like always I managed to stick my foot in my mouth and make a complete ass of myself.
She was so beautiful when she was mad. The image of her face haunting me as I drank myself into the abyss of hate that I felt for myself. I had closed up my project, moved out completely of my feckless brother's house and was living life in squaler like the rest of the dirt I was surrounded by.
I took another long drink from the bottle of...whatever I was drinking. I wasn't even sure anymore. I switched from one liquor to another hoping to quench my thirst, hoping to drown the last thoughts of Juliette and my feeble attempt to woo her away from my mind.
Juliette.
I wasn't worthy to say her name, I wasn't worthy to be in love...
Love...
What a mockable concept. There's not such thing as love, just lust, a soft, moist, wet hole to fill when boredom takes over and you've drank and gambled away what you have. I was convinced that I was crazy for ever thinking that Juliette was worth my time. She hated me and I was starting to convince myself that I hated her in return. There was no way in the seven hells that she and I would ever have a life...and that was just fine with me. What did I need her for, right?
Right, keep telling yourself that.
I wobbled to the side as I took down another swig from my bottle. A shoulder bumping into me as I did.
"Do you mind?" The drunk next to me slurred at me with a Cockeyed look.
"No, do you... Prick?!" I said loudly, then swung at him with a balled fist. I'm still not even sure why I did it, half of me thinks it was purely the alcohol, half of me was sure I just needed to hit something. Which I did, square in the jaw. He went flying off his stool and I went after him, his own fists swinging back at me as I threw mine at him.
He landed a few hits against me, my mouth, my eye and a few in the gut. Back and forth me scrambled with each other punch for punch before I made it to my feet and he kicked me back toward the bar and I reached out, grabbing the bottle I had been drinking from and smashed it on the ledge. I swung my arm back around, holding the neck of the bottle and held it up toward him and then lunged forward. I pinned him to the ground, his hands on mine as I pressed the glasses edge toward his vunerable throat. There was fear in his eyes, and it urged me on. In the distance I heard voices, telling me to put down the bottle, a comanding voice, some what familiar, but I kept at the man beneath me. I was just about cut the lousy cad's throat when I felt a sharp bunt strike to the back of my head.
My body went limp and I slumped forward, my head reeling with pain and booze. My eyes rolled around in my head as I felt strong hands roll me onto my back, and then more familiar voices through the haze of my throbbing skull.
"Elua," The first once cursed softly. "Its Prince Maurice de Somerville....again." He said softly.
"No...one...calls me..." I managed to mumble, though I was loosing consciousness fast.
"The dungeon again sir?" The second one asked.
"Yes, and alert the Queen. She'll want to know about this." It was the last thing I heard before darkness fell.
Words swirled in my head as I sat lop sided on my stool, Juliette's words, my words, even Gratien's words. They all spun around in my head, a cacophany of dirty sounds and broken promises. Things did not go well between Juliette and I, like always I managed to stick my foot in my mouth and make a complete ass of myself.
She was so beautiful when she was mad. The image of her face haunting me as I drank myself into the abyss of hate that I felt for myself. I had closed up my project, moved out completely of my feckless brother's house and was living life in squaler like the rest of the dirt I was surrounded by.
I took another long drink from the bottle of...whatever I was drinking. I wasn't even sure anymore. I switched from one liquor to another hoping to quench my thirst, hoping to drown the last thoughts of Juliette and my feeble attempt to woo her away from my mind.
Juliette.
I wasn't worthy to say her name, I wasn't worthy to be in love...
Love...
What a mockable concept. There's not such thing as love, just lust, a soft, moist, wet hole to fill when boredom takes over and you've drank and gambled away what you have. I was convinced that I was crazy for ever thinking that Juliette was worth my time. She hated me and I was starting to convince myself that I hated her in return. There was no way in the seven hells that she and I would ever have a life...and that was just fine with me. What did I need her for, right?
Right, keep telling yourself that.
I wobbled to the side as I took down another swig from my bottle. A shoulder bumping into me as I did.
"Do you mind?" The drunk next to me slurred at me with a Cockeyed look.
"No, do you... Prick?!" I said loudly, then swung at him with a balled fist. I'm still not even sure why I did it, half of me thinks it was purely the alcohol, half of me was sure I just needed to hit something. Which I did, square in the jaw. He went flying off his stool and I went after him, his own fists swinging back at me as I threw mine at him.
He landed a few hits against me, my mouth, my eye and a few in the gut. Back and forth me scrambled with each other punch for punch before I made it to my feet and he kicked me back toward the bar and I reached out, grabbing the bottle I had been drinking from and smashed it on the ledge. I swung my arm back around, holding the neck of the bottle and held it up toward him and then lunged forward. I pinned him to the ground, his hands on mine as I pressed the glasses edge toward his vunerable throat. There was fear in his eyes, and it urged me on. In the distance I heard voices, telling me to put down the bottle, a comanding voice, some what familiar, but I kept at the man beneath me. I was just about cut the lousy cad's throat when I felt a sharp bunt strike to the back of my head.
My body went limp and I slumped forward, my head reeling with pain and booze. My eyes rolled around in my head as I felt strong hands roll me onto my back, and then more familiar voices through the haze of my throbbing skull.
"Elua," The first once cursed softly. "Its Prince Maurice de Somerville....again." He said softly.
"No...one...calls me..." I managed to mumble, though I was loosing consciousness fast.
"The dungeon again sir?" The second one asked.
"Yes, and alert the Queen. She'll want to know about this." It was the last thing I heard before darkness fell.