Decisions

Deep in the night, in one of the rooms at the Pony, Taraborn lay awake in the dark. A warm, soft body is curled up against him, her coppery hair splayed across his chest and her breath light and faint. Narys’ presence would normally be enough to help him sleep almost instantly, especially after the rigorous fun they had had not long ago. But not tonight. Tonight, he lay awake, his mind contemplating life and what he wanted from it.

He couldn't remember the last time he had stumbled home like this. Soaked hair clinging to his forehead. Jacket caked in mud. Entire body reeking of a mix of whisky and body odour.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd fell into his hall and dragged his inebriated body onto the cold wooden floor. 
Couldn't remember the last time he'd grabbed onto the wall and pulled himself to his feet, legs weak and wobbling. 
'That's me home, Ame-' He stopped, and slowly shuffled around the corner, entering the bedroom.