|poeticmisery (poeticmisery) wrote in manchester_rpg,|
@ 2010-07-17 12:29:00
|Entry tags:||desmond, raina|
"...I'm the only one that's vulnerable..."
Who: Desmond and Raina
What: How all my characters escape into alcohol (part 1)
When: Mid afternoon
Where: University Park
Rating: R... jeebus!
Desmond had been rather surprised when he'd walked into a "Liquor" store, and found the sorts of assortments of alcohol inside of it, but did not find a single bottle of truly aged wine. It amazed him as well when he was told exactly how much a bottle of such things would cost. It was true that everything was more expensive in this day and age, but the relative expenses were quite a bit more as well. Ages ago, finding a good bottle of finely aged wine was not a task that only they wealthy could undergo, but rather, anyone who had a fine occassion. In fact, back then, it was easier to find it by the barrel rather than finding something that had been stored in smallish looking bottles.
After enough searching, however he found a bottle of sufficiently old vintage for $500 a piece, and promptly bought a couple of bottles of it. Once, in a rather interesting state, Balthazar had keenly told him that only the classless got drunk on anything short of a fine wine. Desmond had not necessarily bought that at the time, but then, given the fact that he had not tasted anything in hundreds of years, he supposed that he should probably do it in the manner suggested by an old friend. Upon buying the wine, he bought also a couple of large mouthed wine glasses to go with it, and quietly headed out to a park bench on campus to drink. It was something of a matter of necessity given the fact that without daylight his body would rather quickly oxidize anything except a thick blood...
Sitting down, Desmond quietly pulled out one of the bottles of wine, undid the cork, and slowly poured himself a glass before pouring another glass on the opposite side of him. It was an odd custom that Balthazar had taught him, perhaps for fear of one actually drinking alone. He wasn't certain what it meant, but in the times before he had ever tasted alcohol he saw Balthazar doing it several times, so he simply went with it without asking the origin of the tradition. Now he really wished that he knew all of what there was to know behind it. Raising one glass to Balthazar, a tradition that he did know, he inhaled deeply to appreciate the bouquet of the wine before taking a sip. Finding his thoughts wander, sadly, to a less than happy place.