Perhaps it was a problem.

Feeling the sickeningly butter liquid slither down his throat, creeping it’s way through his digestive tract. Sure, perhaps he had a dilemma. When he’d rather inhale the toxic aroma of bitter, unforgiving liquid than smell the sweetness of morning dew scattered amongst the land. A good morning call was no longer of birds, but if estranged alcohol with no labels and no explanation on how the massive entity could’ve even obtained it. It was his comfort. As demented as that may have been, it was.

Deep in the pits of the marshland sat the scaly creature, rasping his claws around the neck of a bottle. Another swig followed, and then a content smile. After doingthis so long, it was hard for the effects to manifest no matter how much of the liquid trickled into his belly. That meant if he wanted to feel more, he needed to drink more. Needing more to feel the dizzying, liberating effects made the amnesiac drink a bit less. After all, tolerance was a bitch.

“Anyone care to partake with me?” inquired the male, raising a bottle into the sky. He was doubtful anyone would know he was there, truthfully, but he didn’t mind sharing.

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The large cranium swung to the side, observing the one he had met at the border. A ginger smile crossed his scaled lips as he shifted the weight of a bottle closer, observing the feline’s movements. He wasn’t expecting to see a flask, but was pleasantly surprised regardless. It was odd, truly, how the wyvern couldn’t remember a time when he had seen one with his own eyes. They were a thing of the past, for many seemed to prefer his method of consumption instead. This was simple, take a bottle, take a swig or two, and carry on. It was then that the feline spoke to him, words clambering into his ears as he curled his tail closer to his body. “It’s always been comforting,” he responded, dipping his head away only at the view of Apollyon.

The soft spoken voice of the angelic being approaching caught his ears, and a small frown tugged at his features. “I appreciate the concern, but I think I’m fine,” he remarked softly, eyes trailing to look up at the sky with contentment. A ginger look dawned upon his face as his body shifted to drop the alcohol he held so high. “Do you ever wonder what your future holds?” he asked, shifting his gaze back to his group.

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Seven, even though she couldn't see what they were doing, scrunched her nose up at the scent of Alcohol. She disliked the stuff, in part thanks to a rowdy Husky and his abnormal spider-y sister. Lovelockdown was okay, Trevor not so much. But as she approached the scene with fumbling paws, and heard the question Cory asked, she answered, "I always hope my future brings my sight back."

Shimmering eyes meet the blind feline’s form, nodding in agreeance. Corrupttimelines had met many people who were blind, and even treated some people to avoid the blindness occurring. The wyvern had spent the time he had trying to re-obtain medical knowledge and potentially do the unthinkable. Curing blindness? That would be high on the priority list, especially for Seven. That is, if such a thing could ever be accomplished with the limited resources one could find here. “It is a simple wish, but a good one Seven,” he remarked, taking another swig and allowing the burn to coat his throat. A gruff sigh passed his lips meer moments before Balefire chimed in.

Wiser words had never been spoken, catching the ears of the wyvern gingerly as he nodded his large cranium. The future was never set, and sure, you could manipulate it to get a desired result. The lumbering beat knew that. However, he also knew how wrong things could be.

“Myself…” he trailed off, tapping his chin. “I want to have a family.”

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