Liam
I just want one more chance
Liam should have known better than to try and sneak away in his current state. Last time he'd gotten drunk, he'd at least been at home, but he'd somehow managed to nearly set the cottage on fire when he'd tried to make something to eat. No, it was much safer (and far less embarrassing) for him to do this somewhere private.
He wondered if he'd even remember that for next time.
His eyes met Maea's (or the molten tiger he assumed to be Maea) and whether it was his friend and therefore not inclined to eat him, or a wild tiger content with its considerably-larger-than-a-man kill, it froze in place, staring him down for the length of a few heartbeats. The tiger's eyes were the color of mist, and he was so sure that it was Maea that it hurt, anxiety coiling in his chest at the thought that she would see who he was at his core: a coward who ran off into the woods to drown his sorrows.
She went back to her meal. He went back to leaving.
And he might have succeeded, had he not tripped over a root sticking out of the ground at just the right angle to send him tumbling to the ground. The next thing he knew, he was on his back on the ground, staring up at the leaves above him. Was it his imagination, or were there too many? Seeing double (or perhaps triple) and mortified to the depths of his soul even through the haze of alcohol, he threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.
He wondered if he'd even remember that for next time.
His eyes met Maea's (or the molten tiger he assumed to be Maea) and whether it was his friend and therefore not inclined to eat him, or a wild tiger content with its considerably-larger-than-a-man kill, it froze in place, staring him down for the length of a few heartbeats. The tiger's eyes were the color of mist, and he was so sure that it was Maea that it hurt, anxiety coiling in his chest at the thought that she would see who he was at his core: a coward who ran off into the woods to drown his sorrows.
She went back to her meal. He went back to leaving.
And he might have succeeded, had he not tripped over a root sticking out of the ground at just the right angle to send him tumbling to the ground. The next thing he knew, he was on his back on the ground, staring up at the leaves above him. Was it his imagination, or were there too many? Seeing double (or perhaps triple) and mortified to the depths of his soul even through the haze of alcohol, he threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.
To put my arms in fragile hands
Table inspired by the lovely Skylark <3
