i've been drinking || joining

[HAWKE]

[align=center][div style="font-size:9.3pt; max-width:420pt; text-align:justify;"]The last place had kept his remarkably flexible attention span for all of a single conversation with the Desperado fellow, who, quite disappointingly, fell off the mythical edge of the world and into whatever hellhole he'd certainly crawled out of. Hawke wished he knew - hellholes reigned superior to anyplace on Earth, particularly during this time of year. Holiday cheer was all well and good, but in small amounts. A bit like poison in that way. Drugs, perhaps? Best in light doses, and absolutely fatal in larger increments. Hawke occasionally wondered if he might be kept as part of the decor if he were to fashion a noose out of tinsel and free himself from this snow-globe season of primary colors and pointy-eared slaves. Sorry - helpers. His mistake.

The wolf supposed it wasn't so awful - not intoxicated. Christmas was fucking fantastic when he was absolutely pissed. At least when he vomited on plastic Santa, it was entirely out of necessity.

Cross his heart.

The sole - albeit hefty - consequence was the melancholy awaiting at the other side of the slope, juggling hazy memories of the Hawke family intact and stringing a sad little tree with busted baubles. He assumed they were memories. It was equally as likely that they were the imagined happenings conjured by his impressionable childhood self, eager for a bit of that nuclear family stability everyone raved so much about. Who could say? Hawke always did adore a good tall tale here and there.

"- and so that is where my crippling fear of vulnerability and dependency all began. I got over it."

Had he been talking? Oh, yes, his newfound companion therapist was eerily skilled with prying Hawke's mouth open to his insecurities. They had one of those faces.

The sort drawn on with chalk.

A rock.

The best companion a man could ever hope for.

"I knew you didn't actually care - you're just like everyone else." The wolf picked the stone up between his teeth and flung it at a tree, although it was possible he may have missed. That tree was wavering between six and one by this point, while his brain wasn't quite attached to the rest of him - not the coordination bits. "It was a rocky relationship anyway."

[ORPHEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]it's 1am i hope this post even makes sense

"I'm not sure if I should be reporting you for abuse or calling for a psychiatrist," does not sound like the best of introductions between two absolute strangers.

Then again, neither does a rock narrowly missing one's head, having been flung from the other's mouth. Was there a redo button? Some way to start over, with an entirely normal "my name is Orpheus, I think you're drunk"? He himself may not be the most normal of creatures, existing as a (mostly) fully grown lion lacking a mane, his fur stained as if with a deep red wine. No, he's really anything but normal, but Hawke? Hawke somehow manages to top that. Orpheus is standing some distance away, likely obscured by one of the hallucitrees the stranger had managed to conjure up in his mind. His head's tilted at that particular angle, the one that doesn't shout his confusion but whispers it instead. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" it asks, though a little smile on his face is saying something entirely different.

Okay, redo: "But you look like you've hit rock bottom, so I won't do either."

No, that was actually worse. Not surprising.

"Are you sober enough to tell me your name, at least? Maybe?" Orpheus takes a step closer, probably insulting the wolf's sensitive Christmas Tastes with the Santa hat he wears a little bit crooked on top of his head. If Christmas is a drug, it's a lot less potent than whatever this stranger's been having, and he hasn't keeled over yet so this is probably a fine amount of Christmas. Probably. A fine amount of alcohol? No, not so much. As he gets a little closer, just enough to take in the details of his appearance, the smell of alcohol seems to roll off of him. Instead of feeling disgusted, he mostly wishes he had anything like that to indulge in. These last few days have been oddly trying, but that's not the point of all this. "I'm Orpheus. This is The Ascendants. Are you looking for a place to sleep while all this wears off?"

[clarence a.]

Clarence had never been one for too much alcohol. Sure, he'd gotten drunk on a few occasions, especially when he'd been stuck at sea, but it was never anything habitual. His drinking on the ship had been more out of boredom than anything else. He didn't even really care for the taste of most alcohol, if he was being honest. Beyond that, he didn't see how such things could be good for one's health. There was no evidence, of course, that it was bad for someone but he'd seen drunk men come in and die in the hospital he'd had to practice in more than a few times, and not from any other former health problems or outer wounds. After a few times, he had to assume it wasn't just a coincidence, even if most others didn't believe it was too bad. There had to be a reason for the way it ravaged someone's body. In any case, all of that combined had caused him to be a bit more cautious about his own intake of the substance.

Now, Clarence wasn't one to judge. He had his own fair share of problems and he was well aware that after his rather... strange arrival, most of Ascendants must think he was mad. He still hadn't completely ruled that out himself, either, if he was being completely honest. No matter what Vale said, this entire world was so strange it was hard to believe it existed in any sort of reality. Still, it was better to just accept everything that happened now as fact. It was easier than questioning everything he saw. Still, even he had to admit that accepting a rock as a companion and then getting upset enough to throw it away was troubling. The jaguar arrived beside Orpheus and offered a light, albeit confused, smile to the stranger. "My name's Clarence Aston. Could we help you?" He didn't bother repeating most of what Orpheus had said, but it felt odd to just stand and stare. 

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