10-28-2009, 03:25 AM
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| http://sleepyglow.net/rp/kae/kae_razor.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat;"> The coyote wasn't sure how she made it all the way to the mansion without tossing up her guts or falling flat on her face, but she did. For the moment, she was sated on the bottle, though she still clutched it with her, tucked beneath her arm, protected from the rest of the world. The hybrid didn't know the mansion half as well as she knew the territory, though she'd been in it some times to visit Halo—she didn't bother to explore the inner reaches of it, and she basically knew her way to and from Halo's room and outside. The coyote had little use for human structures as her dwelling; she had spent her entire life sleeping out on the open ground. It was simply too strange a transition to go to a bed for the old woman. The hybrid coyote somehow made it to the balcony, though she did stumble this time, there was a drawer to catch her weight and keep her from the floor. When she had reached her destination, she sat heavily in one of the chairs, her yellow eye staring blearily forward. The coyote knew she was messed up; there was no denying that. The hybrid woman waited what might have been seconds or hours for Anselm; her sense of time had gone completely out-of-whack, thanks to the alcohol. The hybrid was almost startled as Anselm reappeared, but this time, at least, she didn't jump. He settled next to her and went to work, and the hybrid continued to stare into the distance, content to be close to someone non-threatening, even if she had nothing to say. When she heard a strange bubbling noise, her gaze shifted back to Anselm, and she saw him busily puffing at the hose. Watching in fascination, the coyote couldn't help but feel a little better—she'd never seen anything like this before. Almost mechanically, she answered him and reached for the tube at the same time, plugging up her words quickly with a tug of harsh smoke. "Oh yes." The coyote held as much smoke as she could stand, the world growing faded and fuzzy as the edges of her vision began to fade. The coyote was surprised as the younger canine leapt to his feet, and she exhaled her smoke in a hasty cloud, coughing her poor lungs out as he yowled for others. A rousing sense of panic arose in the coyote; she didn't really want to be around so many others. But tomorrow was Samhain and Anselm's birthday, and they had not gathered themselves together in too long, so she could hardly protest. "A party sounds fun," the coyote slurred, a slow, sloppy grin sliding across her face. Finally, numbness—that fleeting thing she had sought for too long now. |