Date: 82nd of Winter, 513AV
Location: Streets of Ravok
Time: Evening
Location: Streets of Ravok
Time: Evening
Being intoxicated had a way of petching up the senses. A person with enough mead in their system could be invulnerable in their mind. Physical, mental, emotional. They can become something new. Something strange. Sometimes something dangerous. Bonnie was usually something strange. She found everything fascinating. This is made most apparent as she walked out of the Silver, Silver Tavern. Faces were made at no one. She pointed in delight at every star. She waved merrily to the canal. Then she would begin to skip. Which was a sad thing for the excellent part about drunks is that they tended to band together. Bonnie was alone. They also customarily stayed in one spot. As if to save the rest of the world from their absurdity.
Bonnie had left her chosen area. The young woman was properly intoxicated. She had chosen to inflict her intoxication upon the world and its inhabitants. A lightweight who drank for fun, she had little tolerance for anything. She swayed along the solid streets. The smart thing for any drunk to do is go home. Bonnie, however, was not a smart drunk. Neither could she remember where she had misplaced her house. Therefore, rather than doing the sensible thing and heading home the young woman sought to be drunk and have a properly warmed bed. The crux of the matter being she did not have her own bed. So, Bonnie watched her feet scrabbled for proper footing. She marveled at her painless knee. Stomped, even. She would regret it in the morning. And as she watched her feet would ultimately lead her to the Immortal Pleasures.
She swayed on her feet. She thought she spotted the familiar battered door. But before Bonnie could be sure she spotted something more interesting. Someone to be precise. That someone was blonde, tallish, an attractive. Although, in her current state everyone was attractive. The battered door even might look enticing if she stared long enough. Bonnie lurked forward. Unused to not feeling her limp, her arms wind milled. She attached herself to the nearest wall. Her lips stretched wide across her teeth. They winked in the evening light. When the ground stopped pretending to move Bonnie attempted to saunter toward the blonde. She reached out a hand to trail down his arm. She nearly face-planted.
“Are you with them?” Her head jerked to the House of Immortal Pleasures, “Or are you freelance?”
Bonnie would later realize that it was a good thing she remembered very, very little of her drunken escapades.
OOCUm. So. Bonnie just called him a prostitute. I dunno. She’s drunk >.>
Bonnie had left her chosen area. The young woman was properly intoxicated. She had chosen to inflict her intoxication upon the world and its inhabitants. A lightweight who drank for fun, she had little tolerance for anything. She swayed along the solid streets. The smart thing for any drunk to do is go home. Bonnie, however, was not a smart drunk. Neither could she remember where she had misplaced her house. Therefore, rather than doing the sensible thing and heading home the young woman sought to be drunk and have a properly warmed bed. The crux of the matter being she did not have her own bed. So, Bonnie watched her feet scrabbled for proper footing. She marveled at her painless knee. Stomped, even. She would regret it in the morning. And as she watched her feet would ultimately lead her to the Immortal Pleasures.
She swayed on her feet. She thought she spotted the familiar battered door. But before Bonnie could be sure she spotted something more interesting. Someone to be precise. That someone was blonde, tallish, an attractive. Although, in her current state everyone was attractive. The battered door even might look enticing if she stared long enough. Bonnie lurked forward. Unused to not feeling her limp, her arms wind milled. She attached herself to the nearest wall. Her lips stretched wide across her teeth. They winked in the evening light. When the ground stopped pretending to move Bonnie attempted to saunter toward the blonde. She reached out a hand to trail down his arm. She nearly face-planted.
“Are you with them?” Her head jerked to the House of Immortal Pleasures, “Or are you freelance?”
Bonnie would later realize that it was a good thing she remembered very, very little of her drunken escapades.
OOCUm. So. Bonnie just called him a prostitute. I dunno. She’s drunk >.>