Ties That Bind

The Long Road pt. 3

The very same day that Ofelia buys the bottle of Flaming Lady, she holes herself up in the corner of her room for the night, which she is not only sharing with Yaghed, but also several horses. Regrettably, Yaghed is still awake, which means he's there to witness her venture into the drunken world. He pretends he's not watching her, but she can tell that he is since she's pretty sure he has never learned any subtlety.

Regardless of being watched, Ofelia takes her first swig of Flaming Lady with as much grace as she can. She's learned a thing called self control, so she schools her face into something pinched. Yaghed's words from earlier sweep into her mind on repeat, tastes like ass. Now, since she hasn't tasted ass, she can't confirm this. She does know that the drink tastes strongly of cinnamon and straight up alcohol, but she doesn't know what kind since she's never had anything to compare it to except for the few times she had wine as a child and the one time her father let her have sips of his glass of etaire, a traditional alcoholic faerie drink.

Another thing of note: as it goes down, it's like swallowing flames. Her throat is left numb for a brief second as the heat settles uncomfortably in her stomach. It feels a bit like when one drinks a lot of water on an empty stomach- like she could puke it up, but won't. Ofelia braces herself and takes another gulp, which doesn't go down any easier than the first. Yaghed watches her and smirks like the motherfucker he is.

"Give me some of that shit," he says.

Ofelia takes another few gulps of Flaming Lady before handing him the bottle so he can chug some of it, grimacing. She leans up against the wall of the barn and wills the drunkenness to come over her when after a few seconds, she still feels the same as she did. She's not exactly sure what to expect, but she knows some people drink to feel better, which is ultimately the goal here.

Nothing's happening.

Once Yaghed has sipped on Flaming Lady for a couple minutes or so, he passes the bottle back to Ofelia so she can down some more. He watches her with some amusement, the expression on his face drawn as if he's thinking something particularly insulting but it's not worth saying his thoughts aloud- or like it's not quite worth laughing. On her part, she doesn't think it's quite worth glaring at him or telling him that he can very well piss off if he thinks this whole situation is so funny. Anyway, neither of them say anything and they proceed to pass the bottle back and forth in ceremony.

Ofelia starts to feel the alcohol. Yeah. She starts to feel it.

It's not so much that it happens all at once, but it's all at once that she notices, damn, I'm fucking sloshed. This is what being sloshed is like.

She has the sense of awareness to realize this, yet she lacks the wherewithal to actually think about what that might entail. She floats. It's great. It's great.

"Hey Yaghed," she calls, slumping against the barn wall.

Yaghed looks over. Are his eyes cloudy or are they very clear? She can't tell.

"Hmm."

"I dream about killing you," she says. "I dream about killing you all the time. When I don't dream about killing you, I dream about killing Shelagh. Or Vulre. Or Zimena. Do you dream about killing me?"

"No."

"Do you dream about killing other people?"

"Yes."

"All the time?"

"Yes."

Ofelia stares at him, wide-eyed. "I want to make them hurt. I would do anything to make them feel at least a little bit like I have."