HEAD IN THE DUST // JOINING?

[BELMONT]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]These lands were lacking in drink. Water they had plenty of, but he wasn't much of a water drinker, which could...honestly explain why he always felt like shit, but that was neither here nor there. He wanted something strong, enough to strip paint if need be, because walking around on his sober lonesome was fucking awful. A clear head in general was a terrible, terrible idea, even though it made the wandering less bruising. Did it matter? He already knew his odds of finding an establishment to get piss-drunk in were abysmally low. Sand partially mimicked the effect, shifting beneath his paws, and towards the water's edge, the pull of the tide enhanced the "drunkard incapable of walking in a straight line" part. Not his favored aspect of intoxication, believe it or not. The mind-numbing and inability to think in coherent trains was the ideal to go for. Trevor wasn't desperate enough to test if complete dehydration worked as well.

The dark wolf gave his fur a shake and stretched, spine arching dramatically, and he straightened with a grunt. His nose twitched, and he sighed the kind of long-suffering sigh of someone who hated people. And he did. Another fine effect of getting utterly plastered was the lack of folks willing to strike up conversation. Like this, he appeared semi-approachable, albeit homeless and in need of a few baths.

"Dear God, why am I not drunk?"
[align=right][i]INFORMATION