I been through the darkest of caves and suffering
One hundred steps off the end of the road
Painted with passion, my favorite color
Hope I'm alive when the story gets old
One hundred steps off the end of the road
Painted with passion, my favorite color
Hope I'm alive when the story gets old
Since returning from her unprecedented stint in Delumine, Israfel found she visited this little hole in the wall quite often. Perhaps it wasn’t ‘seemly’ or ‘courtly’ or whatever bullshit ounce of propriety that her title as Regent expected of her, being seen sleezing it in the pub like some of the common rabble, but honestly? She didn’t give a fuck. Let the people think what she wanted. She didn’t take the rank of Regent to impress anyone…
… Well. That wasn’t entirely true. A few faces crossed her mind as a knowing, sardonic, quirky little grin stole across the Sun Daughter’s rose-kissed lips, and a throaty, sensual chuckle accompanied her as she shouldered the door open into the lackluster establishment. Ducking her head and stepping into the dark-lit room, the Regent’s crimson stare immediately located her favorite spot at the bar. Open. Perfect.
The proprietor of the place knew her well enough. He knew everyone who came here on a regular basis, and he was smart enough to not go rattle his tongue to Marisol. Israfel’s Queen did not need to know that her Regent, her second-in-command, came to indulge in drink that burned her tongue and slowed her mind whenever the pain of living became too much.
The din of the room quieted as she entered, but Israfel sashayed up towards the bar at a casual pace, letting golden hooves guide her movements in confident steps. The noise picked up once more as everyone returned to what it was that they were doing, and sidling up to the bar and leaning against the old, pock-marked slab of wood, the Regent of Terrastella arched a brow with a grin. Her voice was a purr when she ordered, catching the eye of the bar man with a flirtatious wink.
“The usual.”
A glass of amber colored whiskey was set down in front of her with a ‘plink’, and Israfel downed it in one go. It burned along her tongue and down the path of her throat, but she nodded again to the bar man and he did his job in refilling it. This one, however, remained upon the countertop for a bit longer than the first as her vermilion stare took in the room. There was a lot of chatter and general nonsense, but in a spot nearby was a dark shape she hadn’t seen before. Frequent visitor as she was in this seedy little drop off, the Sun Daughter liked to believe she knew a new face when she saw one… And this one was definitely a new face.
He reeked of booze and foreign soil, this dark man of midnight and ruby, but there was something terribly off about him that had nothing to do with the roiling waves of ‘leave me the fuck alone’ that seemed to reek off of his hunched shoulders. Crimson eyes roamed down a handsome jawline, a thick neck, muscled shoulders…. Down, down, down, until they spotted his leg. Or, well, what should have been a leg, for nothing remained other than a chunk of wood presumably used for support.
Israfel grimaced. What an unlucky bastard.
Grasping her glass of amber liquid and careful not to slosh it upon the counter, because ’waste-the-fuck-not’, the lady of ivory and gold slid the sparse distance between them and tilted her chin up to motion to the bar man once more, indicating the stranger. Their eyes met and she arched a fine brow, and the proprietor was already filling another glass of whiskey to slide in front of the hunched figure.
Settling beside him and uncaring of popping his little bubble of space, Israfel spoke. “Here. On me. Looks like you could use another.” And then she downed her own glass, letting the whiskey burn like fire all the way down.
Burning from the inside out… She chuckled. It wouldn’t be the first time.
