Athos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
armedagainstlove) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2014-05-01 06:00 pm
armedagainstlove) wrote in all_inclusive2014-05-01 06:00 pm
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Accuracy isn't easy after three bottles of wine
The steady indulgence of a libation as good as a fine red wine is something Athos has indulged in for five long years. Some days, he barely rises but for the red wine pushing through his veins in order to bring him purpose. It has left Athos fully capable of handling the worst of scenarios because he is barely conscious and hardly coping with them.
It is why he sits at the bar in this expansive mansion and orders his third bottle of wine. His clothes yet reek of smoke from his home burning down, and the ghost of his wife haunts his footsteps, but Athos has been in these strange halls for nearly a day now and has no care for what happens in France.
After all, they do not care who he is, here. He is no Comte de la Fère and they are more than happy to serve him adequate tasting wine for the gold coins he offers in turn. While he has become quite functional with his drink, his balance has never quite matched his ability and when he rises to take his bottle with him to a table, Athos falters slightly, the open bottle sloshing forward until droplets of the red wine lurch forward and spill.
Some is on carpet that Athos has no mind for.
Some, however, is on a person and Athos blearily peers up past the brim of his hat to regard his new companion, clearing his throat as he prepares himself for the typical reaction of someone else in a drinking establishment when wine is spilled.
It's only a shame he hadn't planned for this around bottle one.
"I hear red is a sought after dye," Athos offers, gesturing forward with one hand as though offering his case. "It looks ... stunning."
It is why he sits at the bar in this expansive mansion and orders his third bottle of wine. His clothes yet reek of smoke from his home burning down, and the ghost of his wife haunts his footsteps, but Athos has been in these strange halls for nearly a day now and has no care for what happens in France.
After all, they do not care who he is, here. He is no Comte de la Fère and they are more than happy to serve him adequate tasting wine for the gold coins he offers in turn. While he has become quite functional with his drink, his balance has never quite matched his ability and when he rises to take his bottle with him to a table, Athos falters slightly, the open bottle sloshing forward until droplets of the red wine lurch forward and spill.
Some is on carpet that Athos has no mind for.
Some, however, is on a person and Athos blearily peers up past the brim of his hat to regard his new companion, clearing his throat as he prepares himself for the typical reaction of someone else in a drinking establishment when wine is spilled.
It's only a shame he hadn't planned for this around bottle one.
"I hear red is a sought after dye," Athos offers, gesturing forward with one hand as though offering his case. "It looks ... stunning."