Impossible || Druig

16

(1535 AD Kyoto)

Something banged loudly outside the small boarding house where Soro was currently staying. It started him awake and he jerked against the futon, the thin quilt sliding down as he heaved for air. His hair pooled around his head and his sleeping robe was loose against his sweat shiny skin. His heart beat a fast rabbit pace in his chest as a nightmare clawed at his mind. It was a faded thing that was already slipping from his memory but the fear and terror that accompanied it dug their clwas in and refused to leave so easily. Outside, people were shouting over the loud noise but his brain was too frazzled to make out the cause of the commotion right that second.

He reached out to his left, Druig's usual spot, expecting to feel the warm body sleeping next to him like it had been for six hundred and twenty nine years. But there was no other breaths in the small room other than his own. His fingers met the cool floor and found no comfort. Druig wasn't there. His husband hadn't been there for fourteen years. The memories of the burning city flashed across his mind and startled a sob out of him. Soro gasped and he was sobbing, body curling up on the little mattress as if to try and contain the pain splitting his heart. Later he would blame the breakdown on the after effects of the nightmare, but in that moment he shook and heaved out bone rattling sobs. They rasped in his chest, speckled with little whimpers and choked gasps.

The paper walls here were thin and he was sure that his crying was keeping others awake, but he didn't care. He sobbed until he tired himself out enough to fall back asleep. The next morning he tipped the owner more than he needed to and left with red rimmed eyes. His bag on his back as he slipped into the busy streets beyond.

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(1550 AD. Venice)

The stench of the canals was pungent in the air despite the fact that it was the middle of autumn. The change in wind had blown the smell into the city instead of out to sea and far away. It coiled through the windows and Soro could feel it clogging up the room despite him having already closed the windows. The inn bedroom was small and not the finest of qualities. The bed was old and the mattress stained. The sheets were clean but the plaster on the walls was cracking and areas had come off to expose brick underneath. While it was a private room, it only held enough space to contain a single bed, a wooden wardrobe and a stand where a asian of water stood. Next to the basin of water, Soro had stacked about four wine bottles. The fifth was resting on the floor next to the bed. 

It was within grabbing distance and he picked it up to take a swig. Eternals had higher tolerances than the average human but they could still get drunk. The wine bottle was almost finished and Soro could feel it infusing his blood and brining about the rush he was searching for. Here, tipsy and hidden away in yet another bedroom, alone and so lonely it hurt. Getting drunk by himself made him feel pathetic but he still drained the glass bottle and dropped it to the floor. It rolled under the bed and he leaned back to sprawl across the messy sheets. He was alone and it hurt. 

"Once my lover told me", he muttered to himself, tipsy and basking in his self pity. It was his anniversary. The words turned into a sort of song as music began to drift up from the inn halls. It sounded like they had a minstrel in tonight. "Once my lover told me, the city would burn. The city would burn and take him away. I replied, don't listen to such omens. Rest your head with me. But the guns cracked and the fire burned and the city burned. My lover gone with the smoke". The music downstairs was punctuated by cheering. It was an upbeat tune which did not suit the lyrics Soro was gifting to it.

Tipsy and emboldened by the drumming beat, he pulled himself from his bed and grabbed another bottle of wine. There was a basket of bread and cheese on the wooden chair by the door. He picked it up and set about twirling around the room in a clumsy dance. Faded leather boots stomping on the floorboards as he danced a jig to the music drift from downstairs.