@drgnstrke
When it came to fighting the undead, many would run in the complete opposite direction. Yet Dorian would have gladly taken to the battlefield to subdue a hoard of walking skeletons on any given day. The dried out, old bones lit up so easily when he sparked his flames. Not to mention the use of spirits and the dead to do one’s bidding was fascinating. There was once a time he would have given half a toe to visit the Motalitasi’s Grand Necropolis. Oh, to be young and naive, bewitched by the allure of necromancy! Now he’d seen far too many corpses and could, frankly, have gone without a repeat of that pleasure for some time.
He could see but one solution to it all: drink himself into a stupor.
Much to his chagrin, the bar was nearly deserted. Did no one else desire to drown their sorrows in drink and questionable company? Loath as he was to admit one without the other was as unsatisfying as Vivienne and the lack of a witty comeback, he supposed he’d have to settle. Sauntering to the bar, it only took him a moment to realize that no one was there to serve him and he wasted no time in helping himself to a bottle of red. The familiar sound of the cork slipping free was enough to make him breath a sigh of sweet relief, the trickle of the wine into his glass music to his ears.