Sunlight finally breaks through the cloud of mist that inhabited the small hide-away's main window, and rays of light flood into the room. A mess, by all accounts. Scraps of text, and books, lay scattered across a desk. A pot spilling its inky contents onto a parchment which may have held information one could deem important, but now was blotched with black. Words lost to the will of the void. As the light works its way steadily into the room, caution thrown to the wind as the room's contents are revealed to the world, a scarred body lay still upon the bed. Bare. Unveiled like an innocent bride. Naught but old scars, and a faint purple bruising across its abdomen, for cover. And suddenly, the body in question lurches awake.
Dagramir inhales a sharp breath, and bolts upright in his bed. Pain rages defiantly through his chest, and he manages a rasp of a groan. An arm instinctively wrapping around his body, in an almost protective manner. The absence of the woman next to him was immediately noticeable. Her skin that had been so gentle, so soft, pressed taut against his, was now nothing more than a distant memory. A haze. A beautiful haze. He winces reluctantly, before swinging his legs away from the confines of the bed. An arm over-stretching to retrieve his discarded shirt from the floorboards. At this point, he was used to the woman in question darting away. Considering the sweet nothings that had been murmured between them, he certainly couldn't blame her for any reluctance towards the customary post-copulation warmth. But by Eru, did her absence sear a streak of fire across his psyche.
A good few minutes pass, and out emerges the red-cloaked figure from a wooden door. Shutting it behind him with an affirmative frame of mind, before wandering off through the streets of Bree. His little hideout as inconspicuous as any other building in town. Dagramir toys with his leather flask, coat trailing in his wake as he stalks through the narrow streets. The gentle 'hum' of people filling the morning scene. Though the only thing he finds himself thinking on is the previous night. Why? Why did it matter so much? Questions seem to shred through whatever false bravado he had built in his mind. Stripped down, naked of his persona, who really was he? What sort of man was tucked away behind his ego?
"Fuck."
His hand began to tremble. Another uncontrollable shake, that he quickly stifled with the firm grasp of his other appendage. An urge raced through him. He knew he needed a drink, and soon, else his tremors would become rather uncontrollable indeed. His dependency on alcohol was reaching new heights, and it was something he could no longer pass off as a task for another hour. But, it wasn't something he was going to tackle right now, either. Too much was on his mind. There was too much at stake to be lost, and so, made his way towards the Prancing Pony.
A pause. Perhaps that wasn't enough for him anymore. He found alcohol increasingly ineffective in its purpose to satiate whatever psychological cravings wrenched control of his body. A brief flitting thought of his past studies. There was other methods of attaining tranquility, methods he had never considered before as even he found them uncouth, but they were.. Tempting. So tempting, in fact, that Dagramir changed his direction. A stone flowing eagerly through the rivers and meanders of the town. He indeed knew of a woman. An older woman, who specialized in fauna. All it took was a quick detour, a sweet smile, and an exchanging of coin.. The next thing he knew he was sat in the ruins of Bree. Wanderlust eyes gazing off across the skyline that he vowed to protect oh so long ago. A tied pouch of taboo contents setting innocently on his lap. How time had flew by. How he longed for the duty that had once filled his heart. How he longed for the presence of Tailia. A smile so sweet it sickened him to his stomach. A face so pure in his eyes, that it threatened all notions of running away. A voice so gentle it bloodied his reputation with naivety.
Love. What a curious drug.
The dilation of one's pupils, the elation one is unable to hide on their face. For too long he had attempted to replace the absent affections of his departed wife with meaningless coitus. The smiles of facade origin. The bitter-sweet nothings murmured between occasional lovers. For what it was worth, he loved his wife still. An emotion he feared would run ever long. She was as beautiful a person, in his recollections, as the day he asked for her hand in marriage. As beautiful ever still, as the days they spent with naught but the giggles of their infantile daughter for company. His memories of her had been soiled by their shared life choices, admittedly, as one could expect from their nightly habits. Their uncontrolled lust. Though, to this day, he would continue to shun those who slandered her name. Something he only vaguely partook in for social acceptance. And he continued to long for her touch, amidst his brazen antics of today.
She was the only woman he had ever loved unconditionally, it was true, but she was not his only love. Premonitions of a certain Vraela flitted across his mind every now and again. Short, and sweet, much like their time together, but the feelings lingering around the topic still fired true. Reminders of a time where his life harboured nothing but bliss. And Ruby. How could he ever forget Ruby. Separated by destiny, so it would seem. A woman forcibly ripped back to the Mark that, if she had survived the judgments of law, would have bore him a child. Such a line of thought made him wince.
One day he would disembark from his established life. One day he would find his lost souls again.
But for now, another figure occupied his thoughts. Tearing shreds from his already loose-fitting sanity. Each disappearance warranted another night that he required his body to be numb. Void of emotion. Void of the pain he felt when she smiled at him; when they laughed together; when her company felt so dangerously natural; when each brush of her lips evoked feelings he thought best left locked away. Though tonight, of all nights, as the thought of her fluttered innocently across his visage, the idea of being numb did nothing for him anesthetically. Instead, as he ingested the pouch's contents one by one, dried pieces of a peculiar mushroom, he washed the contents down with a swig of his flask, and a faint smile . Tonight, oh, tonight, things would be different. The young man lay his head back against the grass. Letting the river of time swallow him whole.
As the gentle colours of the dusk-setting sky began to merge together into one distorted mess..
He was free.
Free, at last.
