NOAH
I wait and tell myself "life ain't chess,"
He let himself be nurtured. He sank into the plush of the Ningo feather-stuffed cushion, trying to blink away the tears that continued to form. He knew that the woman before him understood pain and suffering--she had come to his house not unlike he was right now. Torn up with sorrow and grief and trying to repair herself in the only way she knew how. But, Noah meant what he said, even if it was in the form of a question. He had not meant to get drunk. He didn't like being drunk. It was not unusual or him to drink more liquor in the season of Deepfrost than any other, using the drink to help him keep warm when needed. But he always tried to keep his wits about him. Tonight, however, lost in grief and cold and suffering, he had consumed nearly the whole bottle that Weaver had gifted him.
He listened to her as she moved about the kitchen, preparing something for him to eat and drink. At first, the thought of consuming anything else made his stomach turn and twist. It threatened to expel anything within it. Noah swallowed the bile down, though, before Delphine returned to him. The tea was such a calming smell as it entered his nostrils. He took the mug from her and just held it, letting the warmth seep through his hands and up his arms. Heavy-hooded eyelids shifted as Noah looked at the bread in her hands. His stomach twisted again, and he shook his head. He couldn't eat yet.
"Why her?" He asked, looking down at the mug of tea cupped in his large, burly hands.
But no one comes in and yes, you're alone...
