- Joined
- Oct 18, 2012
- Messages
- 3,645
- Reaction score
- 1,676
Three weeks without a single orb. Not enough to handle one atrocious night on a ship. A hotel room in the middle of nowhere beckoned every nervous stride of the sorcerer who called himself Vi at the present stage. The town was decrepit and bleak. Nestled by a beach, hindered by little populace or technology. Gripping the loose full skirt of his robe with a hand gloved in leather, Vereshin continued to hold his breath until he was going to die then released his aching diaphragm in repetitive sync. Chest tightened like a steel vice, his chin trembled underneath a large black scarf and his innards knotted in spasm. Draining never made him this way. He drained to escape it.
Quitting draining never occurred to Vereshin seriously before, only when Aurelius threatened to stop managing his finances for him did the need become dire. A purple woman spoke in a foreign tongue and slid the booking form towards him on a chipped table. He swirled the name Aurelius Morday and plonked one of Sadeon's credit cards on the table. The Keshiri woman chewed her gum slower and shot Vi a glance. "Misssur... Morday?"
"Yes I am an alchemist. Hydrogen, helium, lithium S+M." Vereshin slurred without a hint of effort while he subconsciously shook a leg. The woman did not seem to speak a word of basic, nodded and accepted the form. Raising a hand to pull his flimsy scarf further on his nose, he nodded and smiled underneath it. A lilac hand offered him keys and he made haste towards the stairs.
"You luggage in room Missa Morday!" The Keshiri woman called. Vi stopped. "I had luggage? Wow ok then." The hotel was so primitive it was charming. Telephones hung on walls, striped wallpaper peeled off everywhere and doors were locked with keys. Stairs however proved to be horrific and enraging. Weighing ninety pounds, too anxious to sleep, to weak to walk, he sat on the corner of the winding stairs and coiled his arms and legs. In a fetal position underneath the drape of a woman's scarf, Vi held his breath until he might collapse, then released it. Repeating the motion, he fumbled in the pocket of the skirt of his robes for a cigarette. He found none.
This was a disaster.
Robes of black splayed all over the dingy carpet, rolled back to reveal white hose. A garter the size of a hair-tie had fallen unceremoniously down to Vi's ankle indicating dire weight loss. Clutching his legs, he rocked back and forth like a cretin waiting to rise and flee up the stairs at the sudden nuance of any approaching person who might witness his disgrace.
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