galileo kodarki
In the corner he resided in, the drink he nursed was the only company he needed. Bellowing laughter and squeals of delight were drowned out by the alcohol, swirling around his head as he drank one after the other. He played in his own mind, silencing the happiness that so taunted him. Liquor was created to suppress memories by a man who needed to forget, or so Galileo believed. It picked you up in its warm embrace and led you to raging hearths, away from the crisp air of the night. It blew you sweet kisses that made your spine prickle with passion and carelessness. It filled the deepest voids of your soul, if only for a night. Anything it left untouched, well, that was what whores were for -- to make you forget the rest.
And so it was that Galileo Kodarki, third son of Bagheera the Wardog, the Commander, the General, the Warhammer himself, was reduced to a husk of any glory he had formerly held. For although alcohol had the power to temporarily give, it also had sharp teeth that tore apart the protective walls built by clever minds and left them in tattered pieces for morning herself to sweep under the rug. That was the many moods of drinking.
From the way he bluntly ignored those who attempted to eagerly speak to the newcomer (no, not even a glance), he was in one of those moods. The catalyst? That copper liquid in those dainty vials. The remedy? More of that copper liquid in those dainty vials... Or perhaps he would instead try the obsidian-black drink next. The opportunities were endless.
Before he could even grunt to a bartender or server for another drink, he finds himself -- a true tank of a being -- careering away from his precious corner. He saw the whole thing in slow motion, and watched himself stumble into more less than impressed equines. "What the fuck..." he started cursing, before his muzzle smacked into a wooden post dug firmly into the ground holding the tent up.
The alcohol stopped him immediately from finding his feet again, but once he shook his antlered head, he angrily turned to confront the weight that had pushed him. He once again repeated, this time more angrily: "what the hell do you think you're doing!?"
Quiet in their tent settled, and Galileo realised he was causing a scene, and thus, attracting attention to himself. Curse this winged woman who had disturbed his peace, and now made him the man of the hour. Side-eye glances and whispers filled the room and he found himself shooting angry looks at any he thought were talking about him. When she spoke, it just angered him further, and his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.
"Outside." He commanded the woman. "Now." Leading the way, he pushed past her with his full weight towards the exit.
-
@Sabrina
And so it was that Galileo Kodarki, third son of Bagheera the Wardog, the Commander, the General, the Warhammer himself, was reduced to a husk of any glory he had formerly held. For although alcohol had the power to temporarily give, it also had sharp teeth that tore apart the protective walls built by clever minds and left them in tattered pieces for morning herself to sweep under the rug. That was the many moods of drinking.
From the way he bluntly ignored those who attempted to eagerly speak to the newcomer (no, not even a glance), he was in one of those moods. The catalyst? That copper liquid in those dainty vials. The remedy? More of that copper liquid in those dainty vials... Or perhaps he would instead try the obsidian-black drink next. The opportunities were endless.
Before he could even grunt to a bartender or server for another drink, he finds himself -- a true tank of a being -- careering away from his precious corner. He saw the whole thing in slow motion, and watched himself stumble into more less than impressed equines. "What the fuck..." he started cursing, before his muzzle smacked into a wooden post dug firmly into the ground holding the tent up.
The alcohol stopped him immediately from finding his feet again, but once he shook his antlered head, he angrily turned to confront the weight that had pushed him. He once again repeated, this time more angrily: "what the hell do you think you're doing!?"
Quiet in their tent settled, and Galileo realised he was causing a scene, and thus, attracting attention to himself. Curse this winged woman who had disturbed his peace, and now made him the man of the hour. Side-eye glances and whispers filled the room and he found himself shooting angry looks at any he thought were talking about him. When she spoke, it just angered him further, and his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.
"Outside." He commanded the woman. "Now." Leading the way, he pushed past her with his full weight towards the exit.
-
@Sabrina
![[Image: ddjamb1-122f9879-334b-49d3-9bc8-46d9c2fb...TM43jI0AC0]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/976c7a49-1931-4cb7-a8f2-7f2f0babf2a7/ddjamb1-122f9879-334b-49d3-9bc8-46d9c2fb1b18.gif?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOiIsImlzcyI6InVybjphcHA6Iiwib2JqIjpbW3sicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvOTc2YzdhNDktMTkzMS00Y2I3LWE4ZjItN2YyZjBiYWJmMmE3XC9kZGphbWIxLTEyMmY5ODc5LTMzNGItNDlkMy05YmM4LTQ2ZDljMmZiMWIxOC5naWYifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6ZmlsZS5kb3dubG9hZCJdfQ.7WunW61zJYHTvK2AFA21ZN1a1QKTYkgXXTM43jI0AC0)
ＥＡＳＥ ＭＹ ＴＲＯＵＢＬＥＳ， ＴＨＡＴ'Ｓ ＷＨＡＴ ＹＯＵ ＤＯ
