Dizzy and drunk, Athos comes to awareness with the disappointing realisation that he has lived through another night. Though he has come to Paris to remake his world, he holds no attachment to it and would welcome the bliss of not having to care were he not worried for his eternal damnation. Blearily, he opens his eyes to see a red-haired vision of a woman bearing down on him. This, too, fades as the alcohol claims him.
When he next wakes, he has been moved to a bed. He does not recognise this room as anything familiar and wonders where his drunken stupor had taken him last night. Searching the room for water, he grips the edge of the bed and leans forward, his locket swaying forward. Gripping it, he holds tight until it makes a mark in his skin, an indelible thing to match the grief in his soul. Where is he, he wonders? And how did he get here?
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Date: 2015-04-15 02:54 am (UTC)When he next wakes, he has been moved to a bed. He does not recognise this room as anything familiar and wonders where his drunken stupor had taken him last night. Searching the room for water, he grips the edge of the bed and leans forward, his locket swaying forward. Gripping it, he holds tight until it makes a mark in his skin, an indelible thing to match the grief in his soul. Where is he, he wonders? And how did he get here?