Drink Until it's Tomorrow's Sorrows
Mar 5, 2016 6:01:07 GMT
Edelweiss Fjäril and Lasair Landevier Lupen like this
Post by Sayvahn on Mar 5, 2016 6:01:07 GMT
He. That’s all that Sayvahn needed to hear. The feline wasn’t sure why that was the word he had been pinning for. It could have been any word, really. He, she, them, they. It just meant that there was someone. Or had been someone. But that person was gone now. Lost, it seemed. To Sveden? A solider then? How tragic. How mystifying. An ander, and a soldier? Who would have thought that his guild leader was such a romantic. Or such a fool.
Seeing his guild leader on the point of tears felt different somehow as well. Sayvahn had seen the man weep. Had seen him on the verge. So why was this time so different? Why did it feel like bile clung to the edge of the barber’s tongue? Was he—was he jealous? Jealous of this unknown solider? What a horrid thought.
“We can talk about whatever you like.” Sayvahn hummed, trying to appear relaxed, although his body was far from it. Tense, and coiling on the inside, aware, cautious of things that could happen. That should not happen, for the hunger that seemed to be on the edge of the feline’s skin threatened too much. But what was he hungry for? To remove those hands, to scream, “move on.” That would be pointless. Ten plus years and the feline hadn’t been able to move on in the slightest from his own solider. From his own warrior.
Thus, perhaps it would be best to end this night. The feline had learned much. And the high, all of it, was coming to an end. The redhead was nearing sad part in his fall, and as much as Savayhn wanted to be there for that, part of him knew he shouldn’t. “Or we can talk about nothing and bid each other farewell. I have kept you off the streets and away from strange bars for most of this night. I can leave you with a good conscious now.” But that was a lie. If Lasair left, or if Lasair stayed, the barber’s conscious would remain the same. Remain guilty. Remain tainted. Remain broken.