Mordred (mordred) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-01-01 03:21:00 |
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Current mood: | depressed |
Who: Mordred and OPEN
Where: your neighborhood bar
When: January 1st, early afternoon
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; unpleasant imagery and inevitable profanity
The atmosphere is fairly subdued, after the riotous excesses of last night. Today there are only a couple of regulars, and one slight dark-haired man tucked into a booth at the back, his feet up against a heating vent, getting quietly and methodically drunk.
Mordred spent New Year's Eve in bed, muffled in blankets against the cold and the noise alike, trying not to think. Not of his mother, smiling up at him, her hair smelling of woodsmoke. Not of Gaheris turning away from him, with his hands rotting and his eyes wild and hostile. Not -- most treacherous of all -- absolutely not of Alex's warm voice, or of Rachel's soft hands in his hair.
When at last he slept, firecrackers still going off under his window, it was almost a relief to fall into the old, old nightmare.
Nonetheless he's not at his best today. He woke with his mind full of blood and steel; still thinking of Gaheris, not as he was in the park, alive and suffering and angry, but Gaheris dead in the courtyard, and Gareth skull-shattered beside him. Again.
He shuts his eyes and drains the glass.