There were a few friends there, mingling about; the room was small and decorated in white.There were a few friends there, mingling about; the room was small and decorated in white. Gentle music played from gravspeakers arranged in the corners. And there was Freya, standing in the middle of it all, looking composed if a little tired. I avoided her, but instead wandered over to the table with the champagne, drinking down two glasses in quick succession before carrying my third with me. I nursed it slowly; my stomach doesn't like alcohol, and in it's opinion I'd just dumped far too much down there. It wasn't my night. I waited for my stomach to settle, for the hours to grind slowly by, for the night to just be over. And my inebriation helped, a little, to dull the pain, but increase the sadness, of tonight. There was a little celebration going on, some people toasting to Freya's past and her hopefully interesting future. As if she had a future. I was gritting my teeth. I wanted to be drunk, drunker than possible, to be so out of my mind I would be useless for a day, a week, a month, a year. |