"Hello?"
Mosur’s voice called out through the small house and he hung on the silence that followed. He’d spoken in common in case and hoping that perhaps Shame was still there. He wondered if, perhaps, they had gone out, and he meandered into the kitchen for a glance around. The only things out of place were the items on the table. A pair of glass bottles, one on its side with little more than a sip left in it, and the other standing upright with a drink or two remaining. Both were still uncorked and he stared at them for the longest time as a memory drudged itself up from the depths of his mind.
Despite the cold ground beneath him he felt no urge to get up, a heaviness filled his body and any desire to move was shoved aside. A groan escaped him as he peeked his eyelids open then shut them again immediately. The bright light caused a stabbing pain between his eyes. His shoulders slumped back against the hardened earth beneath him and he allowed his mouth to downturn at the pain. A dry tackiness in his mouth became apparent when he took a deeper breath; the tang was awful but there wasn’t enough saliva to spit the disgusting taste from his mouth. A drink of water, that’s what he needed. Thinking about a drink of water set his empty stomach on edge and it roiled with discontent, empty but for the evenings past consumptions.
He swallowed hard leaving his eyes closed and forced a hand into his pocket to fumble around. Two coins…too light…coppers…and a handful of crystals. They didn’t take crystals here for currency, why did he even still have them at all? He lay for a long time debating getting up, he had no desire to move, for the world to start spinning like he knew it would. He also couldn’t just lay there all day though and by the brightness it was already well into the morning if not past.
Finally the overwhelming urge to relieve himself forced him from his evening bed, likely where he’d been tossed after running out of money, or carrying on too much or too loudly. He didn’t recall any of the past evening and it was likely for the best he thought. He forced himself to sit and nearly toppled over before he could center his weight forward. The draenei swayed as he sat the sound of rushing blood filled his ears at what he thought was an abnormally loud level. His stomach bubbled a second time causing him to feel ill again. He needed to eat, but like everything else he had no desire to do so; the thought of food caused him to feel even sicker. He raised his hand to rest his face against and his fingertips brushed over something crusty above his left eye. He brushed it away, bits of whatever falling into his palm. He forced his eyes open again and squinted to see. Small dark blue crumbles. He raised his hand again and continued to brush at the area till a soft sting registered, yeah it had been blood, a wound of some kind, he didn’t quite remember.
A pressure in his lower abdomen reminded him why he was sitting at all and he finished staggering to his feet and started to contend with another day.
He had been somewhere in…well honestly he couldn’t recall the name of the place, some dwarven area. Bearded little boar-like creatures he’d thought of them then, strange looking creatures at the time. They tossed him out on his rear for insulting one of their brews if he recalled correctly, then he had been too drunk to make it further than the trees near the ram stables where his talbuk, Onkuru, had been housed. Though that was the norm for a long time, pissing his money away on drink and forgetting more than half of every day just for being out of his mind. A year or more on Azeroth just being a drunken bum.
Why?
People only drown themselves in alcohol when they have something they want to forget. The mind is a funny thing; it changes memories, holds back information, protects us from…the truth. Most of the time. He didn’t drink because he liked the taste, he liked the burn, it was a punishment almost. A self inflicted punishment that he wasn’t afraid of, like some of his darker thoughts.Honestly it was sad to think about now even if at times it was a tempting life to return to and the same dark thoughts surfaced on occasion. Unfortunately, or rather luckily for him, he had things…he had things to worry about…people to occupy his time.
He found himself holding one of the bottles now and it was empty. He didn’t recall when the contents had emptied themselves but there was a sweet taste on his lips. Shame did enjoy her wine when she could afford it. He should just wait for them to return he decided and set the bottle back down.
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