Turcafinwë Tyelcormo (celegorm) wrote in opus_two, @ 2011-02-13 22:30:00 |
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Current mood: | drunk |
*after seeing that his cousin is safely settled in at the hotel, very calmly and composedly walks into some random dive-y pub in town* *the sort the peasants love, where the walls reek of old beer and at least one regular is guaranteed to be passed out on his barstool by two in the afternoon*
*proceeds to get magnificently hammered*
*this done, appropriates a bottle of whiskey for the road and weaves walks the five or so miles to his house* *can't bet on whether Aredhel will be at his house or hers, these days, but (a) their daughter's still at his, and (b) he's been nice to her lately, both of which tend to increase the odds in his favor*
*stumbles in through the front door and slams it shut, shrugging off his coat and dropping it on the floor* *kicks off his shoes with such force that one knocks over the umbrella stand*
Íriiiiiissë! *takes another swig from the bottle and grimaces* You've got to. Listen. And so proud of me when. ÍRISSË.