August Summers (looktome) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2013-06-12 23:15:00 |
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It had been a long time since August was this far gone. That he could still manage to walk on two legs was a miracle attributed only to the fact that he was a were; in fact, had he been human, he would have likely died from all the alcohol he had consumed tonight… last night…. This morning? He had lost all sense of time somewhere after midnight when Nicci Normandin had stepped in and showed him how to really drink away his sorrows. The time was actually somewhere in the ballpark of 4A.M. – not that it mattered. He felt wide awake, so long as he remained on his feet. “You’re really great, you know that?” August was, of course, talking to the cab driver who had gotten him back to the Summers’s house in one piece; he was convinced that the two of them were now best friends. “They don’t make ‘em like you, Danny,” he said as he tossed money through the open passenger window after he stumbled out of the vehicle. “You keep the change.” He had unknowingly tipped Danny the cabbie fifty dollars, a fact he would be regretting tomorrow.
The walk up to the front door of the main house took a while, a lot longer than he seemed to remember. He really should have been heading around the back to his cabin and tucking himself into bed but that was the last thing August wanted to do. If sneaking into a house after dark when you were drunk wasn’t hard enough, doing so in a house full of wolves with super hearing was nearly impossible. His decided method was to behave as though nothing was different; it was just like walking into his parent’s house during the day. Not paying as much attention to his every move certainly increased his odds of not knocking over and breaking everything in the house, but that didn’t mean he had lost all his drunken clumsiness. Even if he did manage to wake someone up, all it took was a quick sniff to realize that it was him instead of a stranger. He made a B-line for his father’s liquor cabinet. His were metabolism was constantly fighting to sober him up, and he was nowhere near ready to come out of his drunken haze. Grabbing the first bottle that caught his eye – vodka – he turned on his heels toward his sister’s room, Farren’s room to be more specific, leaving the cabinet wide open.
A song that he didn’t exactly remember the words to came to mind and he began humming the melody as he approached Farren’s door. He didn’t knock, but instead slowly cracked open the door. “Farren?” Though his voice was something like a whisper, the volume was much louder. There was no verbal response, but he took her shifting in her sleep as confirmation that she was up and he could come in. August took a step over the threshold and carefully closed the door behind him, but that was all the quiet caution he showed. “DOG PILE!” He called out right before he jumped and full belly-flopped onto an unsuspecting Farren. “You awake, baby sis?”