Who: Aubrey Rois / Robb Stark
What: Memories Plot
Where: His favourite watering hole
Things to avoid: Bring it all on.
Aubrey had spent last night alone again, only Greyson’s presence at the foot of the bed for comfort. A certain someone hadn’t been answering his texts all day, and so it was that he found himself wandering down the strip until he’d reached his usual haunt, a cozy little bar with plush booths and little nooks in the corner that he could disappear into for hours at a time, swaying to the music and nursing drink after drink until he was properly blasted into oblivion and would stagger home again. Something sad and slow was playing on the jukebox, some man’s voice singing about memories and set to a mournful tune. Aubrey pulled his leather jacket tighter around him as if warding off an imaginary chill, and wrapped both hands around his drink. He’d asked for something sweet, something to warm his bones and fill the aching hole in his chest.
This time, however, it didn’t seem so simple. By the time he had drained his glass, a wave of nausea swept over him like a tidal wave and it was all he could do to stumble out of his secluded corner and make it into the men’s room, where he locked the door behind him. Tripping over his own feet, he crashed into the sink and grabbed hold with both hands in an attempt to steady himself. He felt his heart pounding in his throat and he nearly choked; flashes of colour and sound and something more vivid than any dream crashed together inside his skull, behind his eyes, blinding him until foreign tastes and voices and cries poured out of his nose, his mouth, his ears. He lost his hold on the sink and collapsed to the floor in a heap, drowning, grasping at air and losing hold of reality as the first memory devoured him whole.