| Someone wrote, |
Elumiel slowly unfolded herself and stumbled through the crowd, nearly blind for the tears blurring her vision. Somehow she found the inn, and, within it, the bartender. "Whatever you've got that's the strongest. I don't care if it tastes like kodo piss," she said flatly, her usual lilt gone with her misery.
She handed him coins, and he handed her a tankard of the strongest booze he had. She downed it all in a few long gulps, slammed the glass down and placed some more coins on the table. "Keep 'em comin' until I'm good and drunk," she said. He grunted at her, and she knew he thought that a bad idea, but she was paying, so he didn't care much.
Elumiel silently thought he should have stopped her. A drunk mage was not a good idea. But she'd lost her father's signet ring, and so she didn't care one bit. She'd been warned, when she'd started her training, that to imbibe could mean death at the wrong time. She rather thought death would have been better than the hell she'd somehow brought upon herself.
All she'd wanted was to find her family. And now that was taken from her, along with everything else she'd lost. Grimacing, El drained two more tankards, paid what she owed, and stumbled out of the tavern toward the only place she could see as being a form of shelter for a fire mage - the bonfire beside the entrance to the city.
Her vision blurred, but the heat of the fire dried the tears that continued to fall. Instead of expending her magic to create fire, she just borrowed what was already there, creating small fireballs that she lobbed at the ground, well away from the crowds she could vaguely make out. It helped her, a little. Destroying things was, apparently, the one thing El was good at.
She handed him coins, and he handed her a tankard of the strongest booze he had. She downed it all in a few long gulps, slammed the glass down and placed some more coins on the table. "Keep 'em comin' until I'm good and drunk," she said. He grunted at her, and she knew he thought that a bad idea, but she was paying, so he didn't care much.
Elumiel silently thought he should have stopped her. A drunk mage was not a good idea. But she'd lost her father's signet ring, and so she didn't care one bit. She'd been warned, when she'd started her training, that to imbibe could mean death at the wrong time. She rather thought death would have been better than the hell she'd somehow brought upon herself.
All she'd wanted was to find her family. And now that was taken from her, along with everything else she'd lost. Grimacing, El drained two more tankards, paid what she owed, and stumbled out of the tavern toward the only place she could see as being a form of shelter for a fire mage - the bonfire beside the entrance to the city.
Her vision blurred, but the heat of the fire dried the tears that continued to fall. Instead of expending her magic to create fire, she just borrowed what was already there, creating small fireballs that she lobbed at the ground, well away from the crowds she could vaguely make out. It helped her, a little. Destroying things was, apparently, the one thing El was good at.