Broken Nose and Bottle Necks (March 3010) - [Swithin]
Jul 20, 2018 16:09:04 GMT -5
Post by Adelais on Jul 20, 2018 16:09:04 GMT -5
“Bloody warg in bloody drag,” Adelais slurred in a grumble, snatching the glass into her hand and kicking it back in a single long gulp. She frowned, slamming it back to the rickety, ring-stained, wooden table. She concentrated as well as she could, though her head was swimming for the drinks she had already imbibed. The healer was trying to ignore the throb of her nose. Well, her face. That woman—that monster—had barged into the Healing Hall shouting all sorts of ridiculous names in the name of the prince. With the headache Adelais had borne all day, that had nearly been an assault in and of itself! But Darelle had been disinclined to keep it at simple words.
“Next time I’ll break your nose,” the woman added as if the redhead was in the very room. She fervently began grabbing the brennevin bottle once more, though the neck of it seemed to sway and dance away from her fingers. Well, Adelais was determined not to be bested twice in one day—especially not by a bottle.
Bedding Theodred. As if she would want him! Small, baby faced. At least Faramund’s clean-shaven look had been accompanied by such an angular jaw…
The woman grimaced, pouring the clear liquid into the cup until the brennevin nearly sloshed over the sides of her glass. From the moment she had felt the snap of her nose, nearly all Adelais could think on was the pain of each breath, the dull throb as the skin turned purple and black; now it was her chest that ached heavily, and with a grunt the woman took up the glass once more, gulping it down nearly as quickly as the previous serving, ignoring the slight spill that washed over her hand and the front of her bloody healing dress.
It was not as if it was any of Darelle’s business if she was with the prince, though. The woman had no stake! To barge in as if she were personally affronted, to throw her force at the healer in the presence of Oda and the rest of the hall—Adelais only wished she had the wherewithal to fight back. Maybe she could have staved off the worst of it, if she had tried to find her inner shield-maiden. Though, with the way her day had gone, it seemed fitting it had been such a massive disaster.
She wondered for a moment if Runa would teach her combat; she had always been an able sort, able to wrestle down patients. Maybe Captain Ceolmund if Runa was too busy. Béma knew that new little girl was going to keep her busier than she ever had been at the Hall.
Maybe the monster would hurt herself. Maybe Darelle would slam her own face into a door and make her dress bloody, too. Adelais wondered how long the matron’s ban from the Healing Hall would hold. Forever, with any luck. Could Oda even do that?
She needed more drink.
Adelais once more took hold of the bottle, though blinked at it in the meager light of the home, trying to peer through the darkness of the coming evening. No fire was lit in her hearth, and no candles peppered the tables and counters. Yet, despite this, she could tell it was absolutely empty. “Son of a warg,” she hissed. The blonde had half a mind to send the bottle careening, but the thought of it breaking seemed already too loud to bear, and she frowned.
“Mead. Mead, mead…” Adelais began to mumble, turning and swaying upon her feet as she bent for the lower cabinet. She could smell the honey through the door already.
“Next time I’ll break your nose,” the woman added as if the redhead was in the very room. She fervently began grabbing the brennevin bottle once more, though the neck of it seemed to sway and dance away from her fingers. Well, Adelais was determined not to be bested twice in one day—especially not by a bottle.
Bedding Theodred. As if she would want him! Small, baby faced. At least Faramund’s clean-shaven look had been accompanied by such an angular jaw…
The woman grimaced, pouring the clear liquid into the cup until the brennevin nearly sloshed over the sides of her glass. From the moment she had felt the snap of her nose, nearly all Adelais could think on was the pain of each breath, the dull throb as the skin turned purple and black; now it was her chest that ached heavily, and with a grunt the woman took up the glass once more, gulping it down nearly as quickly as the previous serving, ignoring the slight spill that washed over her hand and the front of her bloody healing dress.
It was not as if it was any of Darelle’s business if she was with the prince, though. The woman had no stake! To barge in as if she were personally affronted, to throw her force at the healer in the presence of Oda and the rest of the hall—Adelais only wished she had the wherewithal to fight back. Maybe she could have staved off the worst of it, if she had tried to find her inner shield-maiden. Though, with the way her day had gone, it seemed fitting it had been such a massive disaster.
She wondered for a moment if Runa would teach her combat; she had always been an able sort, able to wrestle down patients. Maybe Captain Ceolmund if Runa was too busy. Béma knew that new little girl was going to keep her busier than she ever had been at the Hall.
Maybe the monster would hurt herself. Maybe Darelle would slam her own face into a door and make her dress bloody, too. Adelais wondered how long the matron’s ban from the Healing Hall would hold. Forever, with any luck. Could Oda even do that?
She needed more drink.
Adelais once more took hold of the bottle, though blinked at it in the meager light of the home, trying to peer through the darkness of the coming evening. No fire was lit in her hearth, and no candles peppered the tables and counters. Yet, despite this, she could tell it was absolutely empty. “Son of a warg,” she hissed. The blonde had half a mind to send the bottle careening, but the thought of it breaking seemed already too loud to bear, and she frowned.
“Mead. Mead, mead…” Adelais began to mumble, turning and swaying upon her feet as she bent for the lower cabinet. She could smell the honey through the door already.