A Fucking Drink

[Sora-No]

Click here for Character Sheet

    Fuck you, got mine


    Would've been really shit last words, obviously, but hey- that's how Mike works. He'd be spared, however, thanks to Rease, swooping in and clashing blades with Troy. Followed by a flash of ice, no doubt by Kalin, as it sent Troy flying to the side

    Right in to the Bartender's hands. Their fighting was almost a dance, each move going right into the other person's. Crisp and pure. He'd almost be awed by it if his vision wasn't so blurry. He'd stagger once again, his hands going limp on his sides as Troy and the others spoke. It was a shock that he was even standing, he was surprising himself with that fact. The man that was his so called father walked off, the others giving a sigh of relief.

    At the Bartender's words, he'd laugh, wincing at the pain in his chest as he spoke, "Well, I found a ghost, and I'm one really shit exorcist." He'd attempt to laugh, instead a string of wet coughs leaving his body. He'd go quiet, his voice going to almost a child-like quietness. Like he genuinely felt guilty, "Sorry 'bout that, didn't mean for y'all to pull all that heroics for lil' old me..."

    When Rease asked the simple question, his body seemed to shudder. He didn't actually... know. It hit him in the bar before confronting Troy- he hasn't really known how he's been in a long time. He's just gone from event to event to event, hoping something would change as a result. Instead of being a new scar or another dark story he can tell at a pub in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. He hasn't actually felt anything new. And with him attempting to magically wish away prior events, he's quite literally the same person he was when he skipped town in Solae.

    Pathetic.

    He'd reply to Rease with another gurgled laugh, before shaky words replied, "I- I need a drink, I think..." And he would start walking. Well, walking is a strong word. He more hobbled for seven steps before collapsing on the ground.

    Maybe, he can forget all about this bullshit with Troy. He got his answer. Hell, even if he didn't win in the way he wanted to, he's permanently deformed him. The Bartender, Rease, Kalin, they've all said the same thing- titles mean basically nothing. Names get forgotten. So, hopefully, down the road he can just kind of forget about this shitheel. Let him live as a demented form of a hero for as long as his miserable life lasts.

    "This ground's comfy..." he'd mutter, before passing out on the floor.