drinking from the bottle ♕ Lei

[cass]

[bg=0A0B09][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] Regrets collect like old friends Here to relive your darkest moments I can see no way, I can see no way And all of the ghouls come out to play And every demon wants his pound of flesh

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The room filled with laughter. It was the kind of laughter that rang out through the entire room, filling every crack and crevice. It was the best kind, the sweetest one, because it held true joy and meaning. There are many kinds of laughter and many hide the true identity and purpose that they were made for. But this one was the one that made me smile. It was the laughter that had been caused because of me, a joke can be funny, and it just needs to be told the right way. That was what I did, that was why the room was filled with a haughty laughter that echoed in your ears. It made that grin grow bigger, until each perfect white tooth shone in the dull flickering light of the room.

I always smiled; it was who I was known for. It was why I was held with such little respect in my family. I could never be taken seriously. Tonight I felt determined to get something, anything important for them. Maybe those common scowls and the scorn that so often faced me would flicker away into oblivion. There was so much that I wanted, there was so much that I wished I could have, most of it was just to see my own family smile through the dark folds that seemed to engulf them all. But most of all I wanted to be seen as more then what I am, each smile that I draw from the depths of my heart as become not as much as they use to mean. They have become soiled and nothing more than a slight, an act at most. On the inside I’m aching, I’m in need of the same praise and respect that my elder brother and twin hold.

It was one of the few rooms in the pub that was clean, the room I sat in was not very well lit, and it was the kitchen, the place where every one went for their drink and food. The rooms stood above, where people could pay to stay for a night, or two. I had never ventured up there, the sounds that came from there were a whole other area. Everyone heard them if they stayed long enough. It was awfully hard not to, you'd have to be death to not hear it. Most men grinned, understanding glimmering within the depths of their cold, hard gazes. My imagination could easily draw the picture, but I always tried to block the sounds it, forcing it all from my mind.

The men that visited here were dirty, they disgusted me. But I had to come. There was always good information in these places. Information was everything when you were fighting in a war. Those that had the best knowledge of their enemy had more of a chance of winning. In a pub like this there were the people that knew how much it was worth. They knew all the dirtiest and best bits, they knew how to hide it and who to give it to. People like them knew how to listen, and they knew that people like me would pay for good information. I had visited the place many of times, just for a few minutes before slipping back and away like a shadow. You could never get too comfortable with your reliance. They would just as easily slit your throat as they would take your money.

This place was known for its dirtiness and more famously known for the scum and dirt that decided to pay it a visit. Thieves, whores and drug dealers frequented this house. People called it a pub, but those that knew the place and knew the rumours knew what it truly was. You could buy any drink you wanted, you could eat until you were content, but those were not the real trades. The people that visited were known exactly for those reasons; they came for those kinds of entertainments. That was not why I was there. I was not a man who bought a lady, I was not a man who stole or bought drugs. Drugs were pleasant enough; they just ruined your life, stole your memories and destroyed your mind. Whores were disgusting and vile, living by selling their bodies for money and thievery was below a man like me.

I did not need to steal to live. I had money and I was part of one of the most powerful houses in the whole of district three. It was untold of for me to go unnoticed. I had been born and raised to be noticed. I had trained myself, I had learned like any career boy to become what I was. The only difference was I was no true career. I simply wanted something I could not have. Most people raised an eye brow at my appearance; the people that lived her knew an outsider from a simple glance. No layers of clothing or disguise could hide that. It was like a sixth sense to them, and for that reason I never tried to be discreet, I never tried to hide who I was, it always showed. I was proud of who I was.

The room tilted as I looked at it. Less than half an hour ago it had been crystal clear. Less than half an hour ago I had sat on my stool and had found out some very important information. Information that could help my family win this war they had carelessly thrown themselves into. Now I could barely see three feet in front of me and anything that I heard just slipped out through the other side. The bottle of vodka clasped in my left hand was almost empty, it was not the first one I had drank and I was sure it would not be the last one.

I slip from my chair landing on my two legs. They shook with the hard impact. For a second I swayed unsteadily and a hysterical laugh tore itself from my lips at the thought of falling. I had never fallen down before. Hell I had never been drunk before. At first it had tasted like fire, it had burned the whole way down and even when it reached my chest it had made me ache. The man I had come to see had forced the drink into my hand telling me drink; otherwise there would be no information. At first I had been reluctant. I was not a drinker; I had never done it before. After the first few scolding mouthful’s the drink had made me feel more relaxed. Within ten minutes I had found myself standing up and telling everyone jokes. I was good at that. Jokes were the one thing I took seriously. There was always an undercurrent of truth behind mine; they fit the pieces of a puzzle with so many open spaces. They were part of me.

Fumbling once more with the bottle I tip it skywards, pouring the rest of its contents into my mouth. The burning sensation lingered the whole way down. I smile, I always smiled, but this smile was much more relaxed and real than any other one. “Nox, my-my bro! So good to see you here, ay?” The grin widen a careless laugh tangling itself into my slurred words, the bottle swayed in my hand, as I stumbled closer to my brother, offering him the empty bottle of vodka. “Oh, why did you drink it all?!” I make a face at him, it quickly turns into hysterical laughter. “No matter, I’ll get you a new one, Noxy.”

But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind

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[Lei]

[bg=030707][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, -webkit-border-radius:0px 0px 60px 60px;] Confusion never stops Closing walls and ticking clocks Gonna come back and take you home I could not stop that you now know, singing If Cleo knew what I’m doing, she’d kill me. She’d yell at me first, call me an “imbecile” or some other fancy word for “dumbass”, then she’d throw something at me (most likely a clock, just because she’s a bitch who enjoys irony), probably knock me out, find a knife somewhere, then carve me up into a million tiny pieces and hide me under the basement floorboards in a bunch of zip-lock bags. And when my family realized I was gone, she’d say the Dewitts kidnapped me. And while my family and their family fought and feuded and killed each other I’d be rotting away under their feet the whole time. No one would ever know. So, it’d be best if Cleo doesn’t know what I’m doing. She was asleep when I left, just like everyone else was – I couldn’t find Cassander, but he was probably just up taking a piss or something - all tucked safely in their beds, busy dreaming whatever it is they all dream about at night. (Mine are full of ticking clocks that never stop, a never-ending metronome of clicks and ticks that have plagued me for as long as I can remember, even when awake.) I know that going out alone in the middle of the night is stupid and reckless and could end up getting me killed before Cleo could do it herself – I could run into Luce and end up with a slit throat, stumble across Howie and be found the next morning with my skull caved in or my limbs snapped off as easily as if they were toothpicks. Worse, it could be Lux I come across, in which case I wouldn’t know whether to fight or flee or hug him because remember when we were kids, Lux? When we used to race together and play outside on the company lawn while our dads were working inside? Cleo's tried to get it in my head that there's a blood-hungry Dewitt hiding around every corner, but I know better. They're probably all asleep. If it was daytime, it'd be different. But still. The streets suddenly became a very dangerous place for me when Dad was murdered. Life in general became a very dangerous place for me, actually. Mom and Cleo try to keep me inside all the time, and for the most part they’re successful, but I’m not one to allow myself to be shoved into a cage and dead-bolted inside like they want me to be. Sometimes I just gotta get out of that house. Gotta have some time to myself, without the walls and locked doors and watchful eyes. The bar down the street is a sweaty, filthy, vile little escape for me on the nights that I just can’t stand the tick-tock of my mind’s internal clock, or when being locked up in my own prison room just becomes too much to bear. I’m a restless person, can’t sit still like my family wants me to do, so tonight I’m going to do exactly what they don’t want me to do. I’m going to get drunk. I’m going to drink until the clocks stops ticking I’m too hammered to care about how much of a reckless dumbass I am, and if I run into a Dewitt… Well, Cleo always says I have the foresight of a tablespoon. I’ll worry about that when it happens. I’m hit with a blast of hot, thick air as soon as I open the door, heavy with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes and general filth. It’s loud inside, dozens of conversations all going on at once, layered by the shouts of the six or seven people too shit-faced to realize that they’re yelling words too slurred for anyone to understand what the hell they’re trying to say. A woman stumbles into me just as I close the door, a little bit of her drink spilling over the rim and onto the front of my shirt when I reach out my arms to keep her from crashing to the floor. A man stomps up and rips her away by the arm just a second later, yells at me to keep your damn hands off of my girl, then lumbers off with the drunken lady in tow - but not before I curl my fingers around the drink in her hands and slip it from her grasp as she goes. Sure, I have plenty of money to pay for my own drink, but I want to be as drunk as possible as quickly as possible, and the barkeep looks swamped. I sniff the liquid in the glass – no smell. Vodka? – then take an experimental sip, only to spit it back just as quickly. Yep, vodka, bitter and grainy in a way that vodka shouldn’t be, and the rim of the glass tastes like lipstick. There’s not much left, though, so I wrinkle my nose, throw my head back, and down the rest of it before I can think better of it. It burns a little no the way down, that familiar warmth tingling in my gut before spreading through my veins as thick and slow as syrup. I set the emptied glass down on the table and make my way toward the counter, shouldering through the crowd in an attempt to reduce the time I’m going to have to wait for another drink. Half a glass isn’t near enough to send my mind spinning into the drunken haze I want it to. There’s a slurred shout from nearby, somewhere close off to my left, but I ignore it in favor of pushing people out of my way, set on getting to the front of the line. Someone stumbles into me just a few seconds later, fingers latching onto the sleeve of my jacket, the stench of breath heavy with alcohol blasting me in the face. Disgusting. “Ungh, get off!” I shove the person, turning to grab the lapels of their coat with both hands in order to peel them off of me, but I stop short at the sight of familiar, bottomless brown eyes and dark, sweaty hair plastered across a tanned forehead. At first, I’m not sure if I’m seeing right – there’s no way - but then I see the mega-watt smile and it’s unmistakable. “Caz?” I did not see this coming. He’s here, at a bar – not taking a piss – and far drunker than I think he’s ever been. Has he ever even gotten drunk before? I don’t think he has. “Caz, what the hell are you doing here? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?” I give him a shake, pissed off that he got himself into this situation, and alone. So what if I’m being a little hypocritical? I can take care of myself, but Cassander… he’s the one that makes knock-knock jokes in the middle of war meetings. If a Dewitt found him, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Come out upon my seas Cursed missed opportunities Am I a part of the cure? Or am I part of the disease?

[cass]

[bg=0A0B09][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] Regrets collect like old friends Here to relive your darkest moments I can see no way, I can see no way And all of the ghouls come out to play And every demon wants his pound of flesh

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“Caz, what the hell are you doing here? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?”

There wasn’t many people in this world that scared me. My family has this belief that I was the weak one, the incompetent one, that kid that is just asking to be killed. None of them knew what I was really capable of. To them all I was that bumbling fool, the one that cracked the joke in the middle of the war council. They thought I couldn’t care for myself. Just because I did not have a permanent from upon my face if only Cleo could see me right now, then I would know for sure if she even knew how to smile[/s][/color] , or even a small one for that matter I was not considered reliable. I try not to trouble myself with believing that any of them actually care what they think of me. I play my part and I watch them all play their own, faces down, stern, hard eyes. There was no lover in their lives, they held no hope, and in my eyes they were all lost. They had nothing that made them look as though they wanted their lives – the lives they were fighting for to keep in this war. It made me sad.

Some part of Nox’s words stung, they managed to dig their way under that fog that had settled over my brain. They cut through the alcohol, and bite into my mind. I could feel them as I always could. His arms grab me roughly shaking and throwing me back. It takes every bit of concentration that I can muster to keep my feet firmly planted below me. The world tips at an odd angle and my head flips backwards and forwards with each sharp jerk of my body. I have never been drunk before, hell I had never drunken more than a mouthful of vodka before tonight. It was, in the least not a very pleasant experience. My whole body ached, and everything that I hated, all the emotions and feelings that I despised were thrusted forward, painfully, to the front of my head. Nox’s words were an echoed statement of almost everyone’s. Yet I couldn’t form a straight thought, everyone time I tried to grasp and hols onto something it would slip away and fade into the back of my head, where I could not reach it.

The empty bottle slips from my fingers and I hear it fall to the floor, the sharp cracking sound echoes painfully against my skull. The air was too thick and heavy, each deep breath only made my head ache more. His words continued to spin in my mind, and I stumbled backwards a few steps. I was finding it very difficult to keep my feet beneath me, and my throat and chest were aching for another drink. It hurt and made me feel as though I could do nothing, that I was just as incapable as they all suggested, but the drinking felt good. It took away that bad pain, it took away those thoughts that often made me lock myself away from the others and plaster that stupid god-damn smile on my face. The things like what Nox said just disappeared, the only pain that came from the drinking was good, it felt right and it made me happy.

I flinched, pulling myself as for away from him as I could with as much strength as I could muster. ”Oh shove off Nox. You know nothing.”

The words came out slurred, and it was taking more effort than it should have to form them in my mind. I try to steady myself, an unusual amount of anger forming tightly within the confines of my chest. Nox wasn’t just my brother, I liked to believe that he was also my best friend sometimes I liked to think we were more than that as well,[/s][/color] we could spend hours at a time talking. He was perhaps one of the only few people I felt that comfortable with, besides I liked his smile, he had a really nice smile. Sometimes I would tease myself into thinking that I was the only person in the family who could make him smile that way – the smile that seemed to light up his entire face, because it was real true joy, none of that crap fake shit. It made him look like a real person, not just a machine – a chess piece to be used in a little game.

Unsteadily I settle my eyes onto him, no trace of a smile hanging on my lips. The world continued to dip and sway and I found it painful trying to focus my gaze. In the last war meeting I had become extremely bored; my family is perhaps the dullest when it comes to talking of killing other people. Most people find that topic enlightening, but my family had this skill to turn it into the atmosphere of a funeral. I’d tried to make it better; I hated staring at each and every one of them knowing that there was no sign of happiness on their faces. Dad was dead, but they had all turned into machines, as though they were only programmed to kill and eat. I’d told a joke. That had gotten me spat at and kicked out of the meeting. It had deeply hurt my pride and it had made me finally think and see that those people just did not want to be happy. They wanted to wallow in their misery and I was tired of trying to be that light in the never ending darkness.

”You dun know anythin’, Nox. I can look after myself; I ain’t need you o’ Cleo even Vivien, I dun need anyone.” A stubborn edge enters my tone – I was the type of head strong boy that never gave in when he had made a decision – and for a second I think I’m going to start screaming at him, I was tired of those kinds of reactions, I was so tired of being known as Cassander, for once I wanted them to see me and respect me, to see a boy that was capable and strong. Not just stupid and idiotic. I push a finger hard into his chest some part of me wants to wrap my arm around him and just hold him. “Just back off, I don’t need that kind ‘o shit, okay?” I swallow hard, and the world takes a sharp turn, I stagger backwards, my legs colliding with a chair and I fall onto the ground, and instead of scowling or getting angry I just sit there a laugh bubbling up my throat and bursting into the air. I snag a bottle from the nearest table and tip it backwards. I don’t even spare Nox a glance as I drink half of it in one mouthful.

But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind

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