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Eg vett du blir kåte av vin  561Regularly the past few days, the midnight-blue male had found himself nowhere else than on beaches…he was getting a bit bored with only stumbling upon sand, and the salty water was starting to make him feel a bit sick. At first it had been refreshing, but now it was nothing more then the same old same old. Boring. And he resented that the salty water made his pelt all sticky and dry at the same time, and he hated having sand on himself everywhere. Though taking baths were pretty good, too bad his new land didn’t have any fresh water lakes. His thoughts had gotten in to a vicious circle, he shook his head, cleared it for sand. It was in the evening, Desaevio had now been a member of Dahlia de Mai for three weeks. Should he be celebrating? He looked out at the oh so familiar ocean, the waves crashing into the sand making a sweet hushing sound. He grabbed the green bottle that stood next to him in the sand, he had found it in one of the old wrecked houses in St.Pepin’s Vineyards, what seemed to have become his habitat since he had joined. The tall grass there was nice to take a nap in, it smelled good too, and there were lots of rabbits to feed on and the houses could be used as shelter if it rained, it was perfect. Still, in the back of his mind, the little voice was bothering him, continuously nagging, continuously reminding him of his mission. But for now, he was able to ignore it, there was nothing around him to trigger the old harsh memories, so for now, everything was good. He led the bottle to his mouth, its contains was kind of sour and dry, a weird combination in a liquid. But Des knew alcohol when he saw it, and without any doubt when he tasted it! The wine was old, but it some of its aroma had survived the time, so it was still drinkable, if one could survive feeling that ones tongue was about to dry off. He took another sip, it filled him with warmth and made his head feel a bit woozy. It was a nice feeling, like all his burdens had been lifted off his shoulders and there wasn’t a worry on the world. It was only him, the sand, the sun and the water…and of course; the wine. It had been a long time since he had tasted liquor, the last time had been at his old tribes celebration of summer soletice, but seeing that this place didn’t seem to have any traditions, any heritage, any pride at all, so why should he bother upholding his? Alcohol had been looked upon as one of the most holy drinks, only used in ceremonies and at celebrations. But here, the wolves were shattered around the lands with nothing holding them together, just a couple of young wanna-be-leaders. Skoll had managed to imprint this cynical image of Souls in his brain, and though he liked all of the wolves he so far had met, the little voice in his head wouldn’t let him let go of the cynicism. But the more he drank, the more blurry the little voice got and the more fabulous the view looked. |