DATE: August 9th, around sunset LOCATION: Daniel’s room @of-judgement
Alcohol never made her feel the way she wanted it to, the way she needed. Instead, it left her buzzing and anxious and uncomfortably out of control of herself, even if she hadn’t quite had enough to completely lose herself to inebriation. It’s why her feet brought her to Daniel’s room instead of her own where she might have drained the rest of her bottle of whiskey and passed out in her bathtub until she awoke to morning light or some fresh magical horror.
Part of her hurt for the lapse, but she chose to ignore it. She had to, or she’d lose it completely.
Nadine tried to keep her from drinking--and succeeded at least for a while--but she’d managed to start the second Rose walked in the door, understandably upset and distracted enough to allow Azra to mimic her magic. Nothing helped, nothing managed to quell the persistent, nagging fear that consumed her every thought. Kneel or perish. Kneel or perish. She spent the evening crying on and off; she knew it was childish and ridiculous. Crying solved nothing, but apparently neither did anything else.
“Daniel?” she said, stretching the first syllable so it hung in the air a moment before she pushed open his bedroom door. She curled the hand holding the bottle to tuck it against her chest as she entered, then looked around. Even though he would try to tell her this would be fine, they would figure this out, Azra already couldn’t bring herself to believe it. Instead, she simply wanted to be near him. His brand of unflappable logic grew to be a source of comfort, even if she knew probably nothing he could say would hit home right now, not while this afraid, not with a bottle of whiskey in her hands.