YOU'VE GOT COLD, DEAD EYES-
Even if it wasn’t in your plans to become this caught up in the affairs of this new place, you cannot help yourself when it comes to luxury. There’s been a particular lack of it here as well, so let’s not pretend that you wouldn’t do anything for just a taste of what they consider high society.
Therefore, it should be no surprise to find you in the predicament that you’re currently within. Lavish comforts in this self-proclaimed purgatory have taken advantage of you, - You should’ve known better, - filling yourself with drinks that bring you nothing but endless amusement. The chalice that you’ve grasped so tightly for the past fifteen minutes is halfway empty, your third through the evening, and assuredly, the one you’ve discovered the most joy with. You’ve found that colours have intensified their vibrancy, and the lines that keep objects, and beings contained beginning a mess of contortism. Seeing things correctly now requires a series of blinks, followed by knotted, sore brows and squinting eyes.
You’d spilled your dark drink earlier to find that it burned anything in its path, so it has been with that discovery that you’ve likely poisoned yourself. If you die with good food in your belly, higher than the moon above, finally having found something to ease your suffering you’ve endured in the wilds, then you can’t die with any regrets. Maybe it’s a blessing, likely so that’s why you’re still carrying on with your current manner.
Oh well, who’s gonna miss you these days?
You sling the goblet backwards to finish your drink, a miniscule curl of your left lip as the fluid slithers over your tastebuds. Endlessly disappointing in taste, what a waste against its other affects. The sand, and the growing ambience from the markets swallow the sound of an abandoned cup. The memory of your third round is gone before it touches the ground, already scurrying away to appreciate what has been your favourite part of the festival: the food.
And oh, how grand they are. You’re particularly fond of the sun-shaped cakes, having previously found yourself in awe as the honey bled, a golden essence that crept without haste, enough time for you to admire with the fullest effect. They’d made up for the failure of flavour that your drinks had left you with, if not tenfold.
You don’t remember stumbling through the crowd, attempting to push strangers out of any personal space you can claim with wings slightly spread. You do remember the sounds of a commotion, but nothing of true interest. As far as you choose to be aware of, flight is your best opportunity of escape, and you can surely fly yourself out of this party.
Regardless of any issues, you shall not leave without one more cake.
Your one-track mind has failed you once more as you bring yourself to the stretched table, no longer wasting time with admiration as your gaze finds the prize intended. With a pleased look, you reach for the next one, only to become to aware of something.
Maybe it’s because you’re tripping, the lines skewing into further confusion as your squint intensifies. “What the f-” is in the process of being mouthed when you come to a better realization of what it is. You cut it abruptly short with a sound, screaming, as whatever this thing is spreads its jaws wide to swallow the platter you’ve been selecting your treat from. Whether, or not the short outburst, more of a short squeal of surprise, and horror more than it was a true scream, - as if You’d admit that, though, - goes acknowledged by the creature, you take quick effort to snatch the cake of your choice.
At least it’s the cake, and not You, you have to be reminded, watching with eyes wide as a towering woman comes to your rescue. You watch with eyes wide, almost awestruck as muscle rolls underneath a blanket of darkness to toss a grand beast aside. She towers over you, bathed in monochrome, sullied only by the light of the fires used to illuminate the grounds. While you are sure she could maim you if it crossed her mind, her mass a mountain against yourself, you can’t help but admit that you are amazed by her existence.
She plucks one, two, two? cakes from the table as your stare continues, judging each of her movements, and decisions as if this is nothing more than a personal play. A look of disgust, and disapproval replaces your stare of astonishment as she acknowledges the beast before you. Why-
“Why would a woman of your magnificence,” You are absolutely terrible as you yank the words out of your consciousness, and manipulate them into reality. So assured in yourself, as you scramble to catch her before she abandons you in her wake, left with nothing but awe. “want a beast like so,” A toss of your head motions to the beast as it climbs her, flattening your expression to show further disapproval. “to be their company for this party, when you could have better?” And with that, you lift wings to call the attention back to yourself.
Have me instead?
@Warbird / speaks / abbat is experiencing hallucinations from the "midnight black" drink, and is described like taking LSD for the hallucinatory effects. please feel welcome to be a douche to him, he's awful
