Solo A drink.

[Alexander Faircroft]

5th Summer 516Av

11:43PM

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

The cup hit the counter with a soft thud, the content half consumed already. Still the slow burble of the liquid within lost itself within the murmurs of the tavern. The soft crackle of the fire behind the figure illuminating the hard dents and spots of rust adorning the figures armour. The soft green eyes mirrored in the dull sheen of the dark brown booze. A mess of hair falling around the figures face. Another long drink from the cup. The figure sighed out a soft breath as he glanced back into the cup, the mirror replaced with a pair of grey eyes and as he blinked the flicker switched to green again.

A hand raised from the cup and scratched at the figures chin. A dark pall hung over the figures head, almost like he dreaded the days ahead; and regretted the days past. His thumb ran over the rim of the mug as he finished the last of the booze. He’d met a lot of people in this tavern. Some for the better some for the worse. Disentangling his fingers from the handle of the mug he rose from the bar. His footsteps heavy he trudged from the tavern out into the streets. He wasn’t drunk but he still felt weighty. He felt heavier than usual, like an unseen burden had been placed upon him. In reality it was the crushing feeling of loneliness. Abandoned by his friends, left by his mentor, and two people he’d felt something for.

His hand pressed in to the stonework as his right gauntlet combed back the hair from his face as Alex stood at the edge of the street, the day winding down slowly to a close. His hand dropped and closed into a fist by his side, the pain in his arm still there but not debilitating. Just a reminder of how he’d failed in the past. The first spark of dark that was growing slowly to consume the light. He knew it. Hell he could feel it. That wasn’t all there was though. His fingers slammed into the wall again the steel screeching as it scraped across the stone work. He was angry, but he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

The trek back to the squire dorms was long, slow, and very sobering. Every time he closed his eyes scenes of death, pain and despair lingered behind them; snapshots of some of the lowest points of his life forever frozen there. When he fin ally made it back he kicked the door to his shared room in before realizing he was the only one here. Out of the four people he split the room with he was the only one that had this day free, the others were on a full evening patrol. The armour plates fell from him like a snake shedding it’s skin. Each one clattered against the ground as it fell, the unarmoured Alex sat quietly at the edge of his bunk. The Silence of the room slowly swirling around him. The Isolation…Familiar.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

His fingertips ran through the long strands of hair framing his face as he pushed it back. His voice snaked out softly and subtly.
“Alone again huh?” His let out a long slow sigh following his words. Musings to himself often helped clear his thoughts. He hunched over slightly pressing his elbows into his knees. “How’d I bring it upon myself this time? Pushed away Poppy, broke ties with Archailist, Nivel went off on her own thing, and Numia hasn’t been seen in days. Imass abandoned me, and Greyheart’s off on a mission. It doesn’t help any to recount all this though. What’d I do to push ‘em away? To force them back from me? Did I snap at them like I did Irathia? Who also now hates me.”

His hand reached across his torso pulling the sword from his hip. The faint glint of moonlight slipped in through the window sparked against the well cared for but still tarnished steel. The flash of light caught in his eyes, now almost luminous. Stark contrast against the shadowed gloom that surrounded him. The glimmer of light barely holding up against the oppressive shadow which engulfed him. It’s getting so hard to carry on as a squire. As a knight. Half the people hate me. The other half fear me. It just never relents. Never lets up, never eases off. I gotta face facts… I’m destined to be left alone…

As his mind trailed off onto the start of a downward spiral of darkened thoughts he heard a familiar sound. Soft and soothing. Music. A single instrument a violin, a slow harmonic the slow rhythm easing the troubled thoughts of his mind bust still forcing him to look at things. Without the harsh edge pressed against his words. He exhaled gently. It’s not irreparable. I haven’t burned the bridges, I don’t think at least. Perhaps I could salvage some… Tipping the sword to stab point first into the wooden floor boards infront of him the soft creak of them yielding to the steel.