you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared

God, she was a mess.

The assassin lays her head on the bar counter, that very bartender finally kicking her out as she simply shut the bar down. Her head was spinning and it felt nice. She couldn't think straight and therefore she didn't have to think of anything, other than staggering home through the warehouse district. She needed water... probably and yet, she refused to drink the glass the bartender had set there only for him to tell her she had to go now. "I don't want to," she mumbles into the counter only for the man to sigh in exasperation and insisting she left. "Fine! Sto' yellin' soooo loud," she slurs at him before pushing her head off the table and quite nearly falling out of her seat. If her reflexes hadn't been so good, she probably would have fallen face first into the floor and yet, she manages to whip out a hand, smacking a chair in the process, as she balances herself. "I'm leavin' now, see ya tomorrow," she grunts as she pushes her way out the door, the witch staggering along as she occasionally uses the building to regain her balance. My, wasn't it lovely? How fast the world was spinning! It was like a ride, something she wanted to stay on forever.

She couldn't even remember why she had gone to get drunk in the first place! Something to do with a man or two? What were their names? What was her name? Oh yeah, Vhalla. Snickering under her breath, the moisture clouds in front of her. Somewhere in her mind she knew it was cold, cold enough to make her breath freeze and yet, she couldn't feel it, the witch concentrating on the moving sidewalk in front of her. God dammit, why was it moving?! Pushing her stark white braid over her shoulder, she narrows her blue eyes as she continues to put one foot in front of the other, the woman occasionally staggering into the wall. She pauses briefly, her concentration dragged away by someone shouting. Was someone saying her name? It must've been her imagination. Chalking it up to that, she continues along just as her name is quite literally shouted in her ear and a hand comes to wrap around her arm. It takes a minute to register that she was no longer moving, or at the very least, unable to move as she's pulled to a stop.

Realizing that someone had grabbed her sends the assassin whirling around, hard enough to break the grip and yet, she staggered backwards into the wall. She hardly feels a thing as she leans against the bricks, her blue eyes slowly focusing on a familiar woman in front of her. "Wha' d'ya want?" She slurs, her eyes having a hard time focusing on the woman before her. God she was familiar. Why did she recognize her? Even in the dark her red hair was clear as day, almost as much as her own white hair. It takes a moment but her face finally registers within in Vhal's mind, of course, after much furrowing of her brows. "Samantha?" Her name is drawn out, a touch of clarity entering her eyes momentarily. It was as if her name brought on a whole slew of memories, their friendship, late nights in her apartment, her vow to protect her, her leaving... it was too much for Vhalla to process at once as her eyes travel to her features once more.

"I set your couch on fire," are the words that spill from her lips, quiet, drunken laughter rolling from her throat. Perhaps when she was more coherent the woman would be able to question Samantha and yet, Vhalla simply didn't want to be coherent, she wanted to simply stay in the dark, never thinking, never processing, if she could drink away her own name and past... she would find a way to do it.

Vhalla Solarn

To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered