You had a blunder in one moment of your life, well you really shouldn't call it a moment when it lasted for ten years, but you digress. You had been depressed and you had stopped caring about anything. Life sorta lost its meaning for you entirely. You couldn't have friends, your family was long dead, you couldn't even have a companion or a lover. And this period of your life coincided with lots of death all around, so you got very depressed. You didn't care anymore about not causing harm, you drunk, you did drugs and you moved around constantly. You eventually found yourself in London.
Your stay was not great, it was the era of the plague, but then again you don't remember much of these ten years, just bits and pieces, flashes of memories and faces.
But you remember the screams. The bright orange and red hues of the fires, the smell of burning wood and flesh. You remember flashes of mobs trying to leave the city, of charred corpses lining the streets, the heavy sounds of houses falling down. You remember dancing with the kings baker, pulling him away from his work.
You remember the morning after, the crying of the deceased loved ones, the mourning of having lost them and having nothing to bury. Of losing their homes and their livelihoods.
You get nauseous at the smell of alcohol.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Feedback and reblogs appreciated.
Part of the unlucky!reader universe.
You can see the masterlist for more! And my inbox is open for asks.