Oct 21, 2018
@desipiam
＞ Zaveid’s not sure what day of the festival it is anymore, time passing in a blur of people and booze. While it seemed that the crowd was growing a little more somber, they were still lively in their mourning, a feeling the seraph could get behind. He’d attached a name to each of his drinks and toasted every one with a stranger; he was four in before he drifted off into the thinner parts of the crowds, an extra beer in one hand and a brand new one popped open in his other.
“Howdy, stranger,” He sing-songs, leaning over the back of a bench to greet a familiar redhead, the unopened bottle in his hand raised enticingly. “This seat taken?”