TONIGHT
WE ARE
VICTORIOUS
all my friends
we're glorious
WE ARE
VICTORIOUS
all my friends
we're glorious
Look, Sabrina didn’t think she was a very wise creature. There was a lot in the world that she did not know, and she would happily admit to that fact because, generally, it meant that annoying people asking her questions would then fuck off and cease to be her problem. Of course, if the opposite happened-- which it generally did, with men-- and they decided they wanted to inform her of something she did not know and did not give a shit about, she could just punch them in the face and put them out of her misery. It was a win-win situation; being up front about one’s strengths and weaknesses was an honest skill, and Sabrina was nothing if not honest.
But parties? Lord, did she know about parties. Through osmosis, mainly, because Delph was really the party girl. Sure, Sabrina could sling ‘em back with the best of them, and she’d done some stupid shit in her time under the influence, but Delph was the fruity drink, loud and screechy, dancing on tabletops sort of partier; the consoling other drunk girls in the bathroom partier; the trying to find someone’s house to go to at 3 A.M because last call was two minutes ago and they were kicking us out type of partier; and Sabrina was the poor soul that got to follow her around and make sure she didn’t get killed, injured, or married (which generally were the three things she worried about when Delph was alone, irregardless if substances were involved).
On a scale of 1 to 10, Solterrans were kind of in the middle on whether or not they knew how to have a good time; now, Denoctians, they knew how to have a good fucking time! But this wasn’t Denocte and there weren’t fun bonfires and dancing fits of bachanal glee, naked under the stars; but what there was was an open bar. And that was the first place Sabrina went. Drinking was something she knew how to do, and she was good at it; it was comfortable, like wearing dirty pants. Wings tucked in close, she funneled her way into the alcohol tents with the rest of the boozers.
From the outside, they were cheery shadows, like happy ghosts. From the outside, it was all anonymous, the awful singing and the moon-eyes and the careless flirting, touching, bumping. The flaps of the tent entrance undulated in a warm summer breeze; funky metal sculptures that shifted and changed shape in the wind and the light decorated rock overhangs and the sides of buildings; sun charms dangled from every available surface, every ear, every neck. It was a true Solterran celebration. It was a celebration of life, not just survival.
Sabrina didn’t consider herself a true Solterran (just a passer-by, really) but it was time to see if she could drink like one.
She finally shoves her way up to a bartop and starts off with her uje: whiskey, neat. The bartender puts the short glass in front of her and nods their head. As she downs the glass and is about to ask for another, the server grins. “How about something special?” they ask, not the least bit cagey.
“Sure, why not,” she says. Mama ain’t raise no bitch.
The drink takes a little longer to bring than her single-ingredient go to. It is in some sort of old-timey cup, with a flower-shaped base, a thin stem, and veins of bronze running along its sunburst-shaped calix. The liquid inside is dark as oil and smelled a little like how Sabrina imagined Hell might. She gave the bartender a cockeyed look, and was given a sly grin in return. Then she thought, to hell with it, shrugged, and picked up the chalice-- it was heavy! This was real metal shit-- and tossed it back all in one go.
It made her mouth and throat numb and it tasted like cold. She smacked her lips and sighed, trying to place the taste, but there… there wasn’t one, really. Fresh? Sure, she was good with fresh.
“Cool,” she said, “I’ll have another.” And she did, and she took her third one to go, exiting the tent and hoisting the chalice high, feeling… slightly happy. Maybe not, like, pre-sister vanishing happy, but pretty damn happy. She was smiling. People were smiling back at her. Someone clinked their cup with hers and she didn’t even see who the fuck it was. “Hell yeah, brother,” she cheered, not even knowing who she was talking to-- and people cheered back! She did a little spin and--
--accidentally crashed into someone, because she was huge and kind of a cow. Her wings-- she’d gotten lazy and let them fall a bit, and they caught on something, or someone, and this is what she got for being happy. She stumbled a bit and let her drink tip and the top third of it came spilling out in a black deluge; it splattered, inky and almost immaterial, across a sun banner that had just caught the wind of her sweeping wings. With an angry, acrid hiss, the substance ate away at the black and gold threads.
Sabrina gaped, deep blue eyes going wide, because her first thought was, that looked familiar. Something at the corner of her mind was… unsteady, like a ledge threatening to give way. Her gaze jumped up and locked onto the golden eyes of some antlered, stripey person. They held there for a moment… before a huge grin split her face.
“I have been fucking drinking that!” she said, mildly euphoric, pointing at the spot where her beverage had eaten away the banner. In the next beat she drained the remainder of her chalice, then wiped away the remains from her face with a chuckle. “Ha haaa, that’s amazing.”
"SPEECH." | @Galileo | everyone say "thank you magic drink for not reminding me of the way the love of my life died"
But parties? Lord, did she know about parties. Through osmosis, mainly, because Delph was really the party girl. Sure, Sabrina could sling ‘em back with the best of them, and she’d done some stupid shit in her time under the influence, but Delph was the fruity drink, loud and screechy, dancing on tabletops sort of partier; the consoling other drunk girls in the bathroom partier; the trying to find someone’s house to go to at 3 A.M because last call was two minutes ago and they were kicking us out type of partier; and Sabrina was the poor soul that got to follow her around and make sure she didn’t get killed, injured, or married (which generally were the three things she worried about when Delph was alone, irregardless if substances were involved).
On a scale of 1 to 10, Solterrans were kind of in the middle on whether or not they knew how to have a good time; now, Denoctians, they knew how to have a good fucking time! But this wasn’t Denocte and there weren’t fun bonfires and dancing fits of bachanal glee, naked under the stars; but what there was was an open bar. And that was the first place Sabrina went. Drinking was something she knew how to do, and she was good at it; it was comfortable, like wearing dirty pants. Wings tucked in close, she funneled her way into the alcohol tents with the rest of the boozers.
From the outside, they were cheery shadows, like happy ghosts. From the outside, it was all anonymous, the awful singing and the moon-eyes and the careless flirting, touching, bumping. The flaps of the tent entrance undulated in a warm summer breeze; funky metal sculptures that shifted and changed shape in the wind and the light decorated rock overhangs and the sides of buildings; sun charms dangled from every available surface, every ear, every neck. It was a true Solterran celebration. It was a celebration of life, not just survival.
Sabrina didn’t consider herself a true Solterran (just a passer-by, really) but it was time to see if she could drink like one.
She finally shoves her way up to a bartop and starts off with her uje: whiskey, neat. The bartender puts the short glass in front of her and nods their head. As she downs the glass and is about to ask for another, the server grins. “How about something special?” they ask, not the least bit cagey.
“Sure, why not,” she says. Mama ain’t raise no bitch.
The drink takes a little longer to bring than her single-ingredient go to. It is in some sort of old-timey cup, with a flower-shaped base, a thin stem, and veins of bronze running along its sunburst-shaped calix. The liquid inside is dark as oil and smelled a little like how Sabrina imagined Hell might. She gave the bartender a cockeyed look, and was given a sly grin in return. Then she thought, to hell with it, shrugged, and picked up the chalice-- it was heavy! This was real metal shit-- and tossed it back all in one go.
It made her mouth and throat numb and it tasted like cold. She smacked her lips and sighed, trying to place the taste, but there… there wasn’t one, really. Fresh? Sure, she was good with fresh.
“Cool,” she said, “I’ll have another.” And she did, and she took her third one to go, exiting the tent and hoisting the chalice high, feeling… slightly happy. Maybe not, like, pre-sister vanishing happy, but pretty damn happy. She was smiling. People were smiling back at her. Someone clinked their cup with hers and she didn’t even see who the fuck it was. “Hell yeah, brother,” she cheered, not even knowing who she was talking to-- and people cheered back! She did a little spin and--
--accidentally crashed into someone, because she was huge and kind of a cow. Her wings-- she’d gotten lazy and let them fall a bit, and they caught on something, or someone, and this is what she got for being happy. She stumbled a bit and let her drink tip and the top third of it came spilling out in a black deluge; it splattered, inky and almost immaterial, across a sun banner that had just caught the wind of her sweeping wings. With an angry, acrid hiss, the substance ate away at the black and gold threads.
Sabrina gaped, deep blue eyes going wide, because her first thought was, that looked familiar. Something at the corner of her mind was… unsteady, like a ledge threatening to give way. Her gaze jumped up and locked onto the golden eyes of some antlered, stripey person. They held there for a moment… before a huge grin split her face.
“I have been fucking drinking that!” she said, mildly euphoric, pointing at the spot where her beverage had eaten away the banner. In the next beat she drained the remainder of her chalice, then wiped away the remains from her face with a chuckle. “Ha haaa, that’s amazing.”
