[AW] The Wolf sang songs to the Moon

[Castalla]

sometimes memories are the worst form of torture

Castalla could count on one hand the times she had been drunk, truly drunk, in her rather long life. The first had been her aunt’s fault- she was learning to test for poisons and her aunt decided to hold a whiskey party and have Castalla taste both her (numerous) drinks and her husband’s. The events that ensued were perhaps the most embarrassing moments of the princess’ life and everyone involved lived in fear of finding something rather unpleasant in their beds should whispers of it ever get out. The following two times had been in order to perfect her ability to fight even whilst inebriated, as well as improve her tolerance for alcohol. And given that her line of work involved spying and assassinating it would be no end of use to be able to hold her liquor far better than anyone else. The final time had been after the shock of her husband’s death had subsided. After she’d screamed her throat raw and cried her eyes out of tears. Then she’d drowned it all in the first bottle of vodka she could find, wallowing in misery in the shadows of her room where no one could see her. Now she rarely drank- only where appearances required she have a drink in her hand. That and if a contact needed their tongue loosening a little- without inflicting pain.

But tonight was a different matter. Not that she was drunk. The Wolf had a very high tolerance for alcohol thanks to certain, contentious, training. In fact she was very far from drunk. Too far from drunk. Right now she wanted nothing more than to douse the images in her mind with something, anything, to make them go away. Since she couldn’t pour alcohol directly on her brain, this was the next best thing. But it was a bad idea to allow herself such weakness in public- it would be tempting fate, practically begging someone from Alanaris to find her. That and she’d rather not face being judged. A princess should always act carefully, even around those who do not know her- her father had always said.

Castalla was utterly consumed by her own thoughts, watching the amber liquid twirl in the bottle as a single tendril of her telekinesis stirred it absentmindedly. Until a pale form emerged from the bustling crowds, quiet at odds from the rambunctious merry-makers and loud-mouthed patrons. He seemed not to notice the Wolf at first- his mistake. Not that he was in any danger from her. But she watched him lazily from between thick lashes as he seated himself among the shadows.

“It is fine,” she sighs, her voice uncharacteristically dull as she turns back to the bottle and takes a sip. “I suppose drinking in the corner with a stranger is better than drinking in the corner alone.” Oh how she must look, a whole bottle of whiskey to herself, sulking in the shadows while the rest of the tavern was filled with uproarious celebration.

DARK

@Lyr <3 (i noticed the absolutely awful spelling mistake right at the very beginning of my first post and I am ashamed lmao this is because i hate reading my own work through xD)