InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Choosy moms choose Jif!"

whistle_willow (whistle_willow) wrote in ecorridor_rpg,
@ 2009-03-08 23:18:00

Entry tags:

*greenhouses, a.yves, w. longbottom

Who: Art and Open

What: Drunkely cursing her luck

Where: Out by the Green Houses

When: Almost after curfew

Rating: PG (she feels like swearing)

Art was drunk and pissed off as you can get. Not only had she fought with Claire, she had been left petrified on the floor for hours until the spell had worn off, sobbing to herself and furious with the god darn lil' bitch girl. She felt bloody stupid to say little, a god darn dumb fuck and she had no desire to encounter anyone, not even Wes. In fact he was the person she wanted to avoid the most, Claire's words still echoed in her mind and of meeting him she might just burst in tears. She was a hopeless romantic, but she couldn't have stand the sight of him, and she knew he'd would hardly take her side, or anyone's side. Plus she wasn't going to run straight into his arms after the fight.

So she sat alone outside a Green House, leaning her back on the wall, her knees pressed against her chest, her mouth continuously murmuring curse words against the world. She simply sat there enjoying her booze avidly, taking a sip each time she recalled the fight. Of course following this precepts she had gone seriously drunk, and merely swung the bottle to her lips from time to time, pressing her eyes closed each time the firewhiskey burned her throat. Art refused to cry more than she already had, she was no bloody crybaby and she didn't want to give Claire any satisfaction, but she was too tired both mentally and physically to plan any sort of comeback. So she just necked the alcohol next bottle, tasting the strong flavor of the liquor and rejoicing on the possibility of unawareness. What was that verse?

“Thank your god that I’m not aware, and thank god that I just don’t care”

She was seriously damaged and felt ridiculous, and she could do nothing about it. She had already screamed and kicked the wall, already banged her head and cursed to hell, now she was just in a calm swirl down to the bottom of her feelings. However one thing was sure, her mind was set, there was going to be trouble.

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whistle_willow
2009-03-16 12:12 am UTC (link)

Wes was being most nice and caring, and though in the back of her mind Art perfectly understood that it was just him helping out a mate, she couldn’t help raising her expectations to the brown of his eyes. Art didn’t even wonder how he’d got his greenhouse or anything, in her state those were nimieties. Right now all that mattered were his arms leading her towards the cushions, his smile waving oddly at her, he wasn’t exactly too comfortable with everything but to Art, him being kind was enough to have her on the moon.

She was doing her best not to puke but her nausea was ruling her thoughts, and she could only try to focus on something else, like Wes ass as he turned around, what? She was still a girl, drunk or sober, indifferent or in love. Fuck had she got to the “in love” point? She seriously prayed Merlin, not! On the other hand Wes presence had butterflies racing down her spine…

His question did make her uncomfortable, partly because the answer held his name, and partly because it seemed a little silly now; getting all drunk and sobish for a row with a mate and the little love triangle. But it had been really annoying, and it was like it all had been building up, and “Claire was a bitch” fuck she said that out loud? Did she? Fuck…
Her only hope was her mumbly voice would hide it out. Well all said and done, the girl had been an utter bitch to her.

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wassupwes
2009-03-16 11:53 am UTC (link)

However quietly she might've muttered it, Claire's name was like an instant attention grabber for Wes, and her perked up, pausing mid-puff before realising and exhaling a rather ragged, smoky breath.
"What? Claire?" He asked, surprised. What on earth could Claire have done or said to make Art want to drink like this? He edged a little closer, offering a stoner's arm of comfort across her shoulders. He would've offered her the joint as well, but she was wasted enough as it was and he didn't fancy making her paralytic on top of it with additional narcotics, "What did she do? You know what? She's been a proper bitch this week. She must be on the rag or something.." He grumbled, thinking back to how many times he'd been blown off, barely bothering to wonder if he'd offend Art with talks of her 'rag'.

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whistle_willow
2009-03-17 12:26 am UTC (link)

Art’s stomach tingled with Wes sudden reply, the mention of Claire’s name, the glow on his eyes when mentioning it, perhaps it was all mental but by the moment he passed his arm around her, it was obvious she could no longer resist the urge to puke out. She only had time to reach for the watering can as she felt every inch of her nausea leaving her body, along with a considerable amount of booze she had ingested, the acids burning her throat on their way back. On a way it was pure bliss, the conversation was vanished away by her sickness, both physical and mental.

She launched herself forwards, trying to avoid staining the boy’s clothing, as her stomach kept pumping the remains of the firewhiskey that traveled up her throat and out of her mouth, now into the fresh dirt of the greenhouse. Art knelt in the soil, with her scratched out palms holding her still, barely, with her condition getting worse by the minute. She could feel hot tears sliding down her cheeks, with her guts blowing out everything inside her, her sorry emotions included in the package. Despite realizing all the alcohol inside her she was getting dizzier and her vision most blurry, pray on oblivion and perhaps Wes would even forget what she had just said.

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wassupwes
2009-03-19 01:21 pm UTC (link)

Wes moved back instantly as started throwing up, rather selfishly looking to avoid getting any of her vomit anywhere near his clothes.
"Oh..gross," he remarked with a frown and pulled his wand from his pocket. When she was done with his watering can Wes carefully poking his wand through the top and muttered a quick, "Evanesco." the contents of the can (previously the contents of Art's stomach) vanished but Art apparently had no problem replacing it, this time over the floor. Nice. Wes took a drag of his joint and tried to ignore the sounds of her retching, his own stomach none-too-pleased with the sounds. he glanced around and found an empty bottle, which he filled with water from the tip of his wand.
"Here, Art, drink this," he offered, "and stop puking yeah?"

Despite appearing pretty uncaring and annoyed, Wes was a little worried. Drinking yourself stupid with friends was one thing but alone was another story entirely. And Claire had been the trigger? that was even more concerning. He stroked his hand over her back gently, hesitantly, hoping she was done and that the sharp scent of bile wouldn't hang around after he'd vanished the puddle she'd made on the floor.

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whistle_willow
2009-03-23 12:05 am UTC (link)

Art felt rather blue and insulted by Wes carelessness, she was throwing her guts up and he seemed just to cool for the situation. Maybe she was just drunk but it bugged her down, in her mind this scene was with him holding her hair back and kissing her forehead, but then again she wouldn’t really want that, it was part of that laid back attitude that got her hooked up on him.

Eventually she finished releasing all the contents in her stomach, still trembling and sweating cold, but at least it had stopped, screw the booze, she barely registered the way the puke vanished from the soil. Yet the warmth of Wes palm colliding softly to her back was most registered, and she instantly grabbed the water, hoping its arrival to her stomach wouldn’t cause any more damage.

At least their conversation was long forgotten and she was tired enough to just fall asleep right there, perhaps it was too much to ask but could this silly nonsense drinking go unmentioned? Couldn’t it all simply vanish and make her stay in the castle more pleasant? Less conflictive?

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[[short - sorry!]]

wassupwes
2009-03-24 11:38 am UTC (link)

Well, at least she'd stopped throwing up! That was a good thing. He pushed away the fact that he now regretted bringing her to his little hide away and rubbed her back with a little more vigour whilst using the other hand to reach for his joint where it lay abandoned. Another lungful of weed and Wes didn't really care all that much about the slight tinge of vomit in the air.

"Better?" He asked casually, pulling her back a little (grateful that she didn't have anything around her mouth) and smiled softly, rather stoned now, "Better out than in y'know?" He almost felt like throwing his hand across her shoulders, and, after slow, careful deliberation, he decided that it might help her feel less sicky, so he did it, giving her a platonic squeeze.

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