savannah
sometimes i don't wanna be here
it's a living nightmare, i don't wanna be scared
looking at myself in the god damn mirror
things will be alright, you just gotta say a prayer
Panic clung to him, choking up his throat and drying out his mouth for every second he was here. It had been eighteen minutes, forty-three seconds, and four milliseconds since Syn had forcefully pulled him into this 'outing'. All kinds of lies about him needing to make friends and be social. So far, he was hiding in the shadows while Syn continued to pour drinks down his throat. Attempts to loosen him up apparently. Foolish attempts they were. He has had five shots, two beers and three random fruity drinks shoved onto him so far. And the bitch he called his best friend didn't look ready to stop either. He'd passed the last fruity drink to a flighty dame who had slobbering a kiss to the exposed ebony of his right cheek before staggering away. Disgusting.
He shot a sneer at his best friend, eyes harsh in their dual color, one pastel pink, the other a rich baby blue. "Absynthe. I wish to retire for the ni-" He wasn't given a chance to finish his sentence as he was pulled onto the dancing by the fae, "Absynthe!" He hissed in dismay as she kept him corralled, even as he stood awkwardly among the dancing crowd, "I absolutely despise you, Absynthe Rose Froste." He snarked as he finds an opening and escapes.
He loses sight of her for another thirty minutes, but is still being passed drinks by the bartender he suspects is in cohorts with his best friend. He finally chooses to escape, stumbling through the crowds, searching for Syn. He was going home damn it. She appears out of nowhere, cooing concern and he suddenly finds himself set down by the bonfire, heat reflecting off the charmed cloak he wears like a safety blanket, and he glares as she passes him another drink, "Absynthe, I do not wish to ingest more alcohol, I wish to retire for the eveni-" He is startled when she tries to tug at his hood, "It is staying on, Syn." He warns before his muzzle drops open in shock when she informs him that she was off to spend some time with a stallion, and expected him to mingle.
She disappears, leaving the mage slack jawed, his blue and pink eyes wide, and a mixture of black, purple and blue locks slightly visible from the edge of his hood from wherebSyn managed to flip it back enough to expose a little of his cream and onyx face. "By the grace of Lady Morrigan, I'm going to turn that fae into a newt." He huffy, pushing the alcohol away with one pale blue hoof, but staying down, eyes staring at the bonfire, attempting to sober up a little before he would try to journey back to his workshop. At least by the fire there appeared to be less bodies to press close to him. And as those odd eyes swept the crowds, he did have to admit the men flashing about wasn't so bad to look at either. But that was likely the alcohol talking. He didn't need relations anyway. It would just distract him from his work. He was better off alone. His gaze returns to the fire with a shake of his head, feeling his horns catch on the fabric of the enchanted hood, annoyance crossing his face as he restraightens the cloak, hopefully before anyone could catch sight of his unfortunately memorable looks.
He should have stayed home.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Alecto
Notes: <3 teehee
