Ingrid looked confused, to put it lightly. Her head was throbbing. Now, she was no stranger to the effects of excessive drinking. She'd lost minutes, hours, hell, even a whole day once. But two seasons? She shook her head.
How are we holed up again? What happened to Lightning Bitch and her climate magic shit? After all that big talk: "Oh, Magic will keep us warm. Magic will feed us. Magic will give every citizen an orgasm and a free pony." Where did that get us, exactly? she mused. She knew she was being bitter, but Gods, the body odor in this room was strong enough to kill. She began to weave through the crowd, tapping on a shoulder here and there, asking about kids and spouses, and learning as much as she could.
Oh. Wow, I missed some shit. This is the inside of the Arcane Academy?
...
How was my... pilgrimage? I'm sorry, my what? And I've been drunk ever since I got back? Yikes.
...
The Warden is WHOM?
By the time she reached the other side of the room, there was only one thing she knew for certain: she needed a drink. Immediately. Ingrid made a beeline for a makeshift bar in the corner of the room. "Hi, yes. Alcohol?" She reached into her bag, grabbing all of her dried fish jerky and slapping it onto the table to offer for trade.
Korbin
