alastorlionheart:
“how the hell do i get out of this place? it is such a lovely night, and i wish to sing to the moon!” alastor cries out, hipflask forgotten and replaced by a goblet of mulled wine. “oh, desire, she be a fickle and untempered beast.”
“ are you alright? “ emma asked, primarily out of concern. the older man was beginning to utter things she usually heard from the opera or a dramatic theater, but she knew the drinks were betraying them in more ways than one. “ you seem to be .... speaking, err, unusual things. but i’ve heard of stranger things tonight myself. “










