bodyache. [ lora + ali train!blitz ]
Oct 5, 2020 21:26:34 GMT -5
Post by brad bradford ★ d5b [arx] on Oct 5, 2020 21:26:34 GMT -5
vallora seth.
After an hour of chasing a single, stolen breath of air through the train cars, I finally catch it at the bottom of bottle. "Wow." The bottle hums as I breathe against its lips, screams as my grip tightens around its neck. 'It's just an eye for an eye,' as my uncle would say. And then my sister and I would sew each other back together; she always pulled too tight. I'm going to miss that.
"Another?" I point the empty bottle at my district partner and answer my own question without hesitation—"Another."—hopping over the bar like I own the place.
Everything was normal if I didn't spend too much time thinking about it. I was nursing my hangover with a drink far too fucking expensive for a worthless urchin like me, ignoring aches, cuts, and bruises that made my freckles look like misty galaxies and connect-the-dot constellations across my skin, demanding the attention of everyone and anyone who was within earshot to keep my mind from convincing me I was invisible. Or dead. Which I mean- ha, see, now I most certainly am.
I'm laughing to trick the endorphins, smiling to trick the serotonin. Hard to tell, but I don't think those bitches are falling for it.
I'm nearly half way through my second bottle by the time I notice Mr. Volunteer hasn't even cracked the top off of his beer yet.
"Loosen up," I say, wiping foam off my upper lip as I lean over the bar and crack it open for him. "And good god, get out of that suit-" I reach and shake out his tie a little, pulling away just as quick to keep my wrist from getting snapped.
I finish off my bottle, reach for another.
"You look like a depressed two-by-four."
"and you feared a lonely death, like a lake leaves you alone in her depths."