at the bottom of a shotglass [callum]

[kappaccino]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:400px; background-color:eecc77;,bTable] I'VE GOT A HUNGER TWISTING MY STOMACH INTO KNOTS It was just a little jeweled hair pin, not even really his, but the memory had stirred like a sudden splinter; sharp and pervasive. At one point, more than centuries ago, his partner had slid it into his hair with a little grin – a woman customer's lost item turned into an evenings joke. When had it ended up abandoned under the bedside cabinet, where it must have been laying as the decades passed? It was unwelcome – a flat note in a melody, and what was even harder was having to take down the box. He hadn't had the heart to open the lid all the way; to see all the relic and items left over of their life together, but even just dropping the pin in and recovering it had left him... Off. A slight rattle in the numbness that usually only occurred when snow blanketed the town. Thus, without really a conscious thought, he had found himself standing in front of the tavern after work out of a sort of distant instinct. Now, sitting at the bar and signaling that he wanted another shot of, well, whatever it was that the bartender had been pouring him all that evening, Tailor was beginning to suspect that he was getting a bit tipsy. The wizard went to stretch to relieve a crick in his neck, only to find gravity had decided to shift and the earth to spin at a different angle. He lurched forward and grabbed the bar table, his palms thunking into the wood with a thwack and his fingers sliding uselessly against it as if he were trying to get purchase, all while his brain fizzled with thoughts of the planet spiraling into the sun. “Nnn, no, the suns, too hot.” Was something he couldn't tell if he'd said out loud of not. Ugh, perhaps drunk would be a better term. Blinking at his own arms stretched out on the table, the smallest of wrinkles formed in his brow. Struggling to think through what seemed to be a mental-marsh, he said quietly: “Those are my hands, right...?”

LAIKA OF GS

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[callum]

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[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, height: auto;] Things always got more lively at night. More people came into the tavern for a drink and even some of the guests came down to chat with the visitors and buy a drink or some food themselves. It was easily Callum's favorite part of the day, and that's not just because he made a lot more money from the drinks he sold and the tips he managed to get. It was nearing the tavern's closing time, though, and nearly everyone had left or staggered their way out. It had been a pretty good night. Nobody who was really intoxicated ended up leaving alone and the tip jar was getting mighty full. While it might seem like a monotonous task, he liked to count it all up at the end of the day. However, there was one person left at the bar...that tailor wizard. He didn't know the guy personally but he came in here a lot, always looking downtrodden about something. Cal always tried to be friendly to the guy and offered him a few free drinks, hoping it would loosen him up. Apparently they didn't. Now he was just spouting nonsense and nearly falling over...but he still lifted his arm over to call Callum over for more, he presumed. He hated cutting people off but it was almost closing time and he supposed he'd have to. "Yes, those are your hands," he sighed, taking the glass from the man's hands and setting it behind the counter. "If you're asking questions like that then it's time to stop. Besides, I gotta close up soon, so I'd say you're about done." He couldn't be easygoing on people when they got like this...they wouldn't understand. He had to just tell them straight up what was going to happen or he'd spend a long time having to explain things.

[atrb=valign,top]   tagged: tailor words: 306 notes: a bit short sorry :C made by habbue

[kappaccino]

The wizard stared at the place where his glass had been just a moment before, his good eye narrowed in an attempt to focus. His depth perception wasn't the best in normal times (having only one field of vision did that to people), but it was easily five times as worse now. Thus, it was with some caution that he pushed himself back into a sitting position, tipping and swaying dangerously in a dizzy stupor. His arms and legs felt distant from the heavy weight in his gut and the spinning in his head. Yeah, the voice was being perfectly... Um. What was the word? Sense making. True thinking. Logical, yes, that was it.

Tailor nodded in agreement, or at least he thought he did – it was hard to tell where his head dropping and raising from being heavy and actual nodding separated. At least he was too distracted by the too-hot discomfort of feeling like he was about to get sick to think of the hairpin--

Ugh. He'd had to open up the room they shared to get to the box, their old bed, the soft carpet, an abandoned sweater in the color that'd always looked so lovely on his boyfriend laying across a chair--

Tailor's head thunked into the bar-table, sending a jolt of pain shivering down his spine and bursting bits of green across his field of vision. Closing his eyes and focusing on the pain, it was a moment before he remembered where he was.

“M' 'pologies.” He said, his accent thicker than usual with a slur. “I'll 'ead 'ome.”

Despite saying this, his muscles didn't respond to his feeble urging, so he continued to sit slumped with his face on the wood surface.

notes: sorry there isn't much to respond to, I'm brain dead from work >n<

[callum]

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[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, height: auto;] Damn. This guy was long past gone. Sometimes Callum wondered if he should be a little more strict with when he cut people off, but that didn't matter right now. This man was tipping and swaying and lurching from side to side dangerously and if he fell and hurt himself...well, that could be a lawsuit he wanted to avoid at all costs. All the lawyers came from the big cities that were on the mainland and they were all so...big city. He said he would head home but then he just faceplanted the counter. Sighing, Callum shook his head as he exited the bar area. The clock just struck the hour, notifying him that it was closing time at last. Usually it didn't take him long to clean up and get to bed but it looked like this was going to be a long night. Exiting the bar area he crossed over to the doors, turning the sign to say "closed" and shutting off most of the lights. The light-haired man was still slumped against the bar...did he pass out? Callum was a little worried...after all, the man was a regular customer. It wasn't even that he was a customer, just a person. As sarcastic and pessimistic Callum could be, he wasn't heartless. Going back over to him he shook the man's shoulder, gently enough to not be startling but firmly enough to wake him up. Hopefully he hadn't passed completely out or he would have to carry him home and guess where to put him. "Hey, you. Wake up. I've gotta take you home and I wanna make it fast so I can, you know, go to sleep myself," he said, grabbing his coat from behind the register. For all he knew he could be talking to nothing if the guy was passed out, but he was banking — hoping — that wasn't the case.

[atrb=valign,top]   tagged: tailor words: 314 notes: <3 it was fine :3 made by habbue