62nd Summer, 515AV. Nighttime.
Jeremy had never been drunk before. Not truly blind drunk.
Until tonight, anyway
He was sitting at a table positioned in the corner of the Fool's Errand tavern, but from Jeremy's newly discovered state, the entire world was a little crooked. He looked through bleary eyes down at the wine bottle that stood on the table. Had he drunk all of that? Unbelievable!
But then he shifted his gaze to the other side of the table, where there sat a wine glass that was the mirror image of his own: drained of every last drop.
Ah, of course, he thought as if the reality was finally dawning on him, Penelope.
But where was the young farmer now? He glanced around himself, spotting her freckled face at the bar speaking to Nathan Porter. She gave the barkeep a sad smile, a forlorn nod, and made her way back to Jeremy armed with another bottle of wine. When she sat down, the sadness that enveloped her was painfully obvious. It made Jeremy reach out and touch her hand. Had he been sober, this simple act would have been surpassed his usual awkward selection of social behaviours. But Jeremy was drunker than he had ever been before, and with the increasing toxicity in his blood, his barriers dropped.
Penelope gave him another sad smile and uncorked the new bottle of wine. After pouring herself and Jeremy a glass, she took a deep gulp that was followed by a shuddering sigh. "I just can't-- I can't-"
"I know."
Once again, Jeremy found himself wrestling intense feelings of guilt and sorrow. Earlier that day, Penelope had bought her horse to Jeremy. The cob was stricken with a strange disease that Jeremy had not recognised, let along knew how to cure. Within mere bells, his health had disintegrated and Coal had died a short while ago. Penelope had broken down into tears, whilst Jeremy had been consumed by a rotting guilt.
What was worse was that the farmer who's barn Jeremy had occupied for the day appeared to know exactly what was wrong with Coal immediately after Jeremy had described his odd symptoms. "Ah. Grass sickness, that is. Terrible disease. Only thing y'can do is make 'em comfortable."
Finally giving the sickness that had killed her pet a name had comforted Penelope. But Jeremy had felt quite different. It should have been him that had known what was wrong with the horse, even if it resulted in knowing there was little or nothing to be done. He was paid by the people of the Mithryn to be trusted with their beloved animals, and yet he had not recognised an apparently well-known fatal disease.
Jeremy had never been drunk before. Not truly blind drunk.
Until tonight, anyway
He was sitting at a table positioned in the corner of the Fool's Errand tavern, but from Jeremy's newly discovered state, the entire world was a little crooked. He looked through bleary eyes down at the wine bottle that stood on the table. Had he drunk all of that? Unbelievable!
But then he shifted his gaze to the other side of the table, where there sat a wine glass that was the mirror image of his own: drained of every last drop.
Ah, of course, he thought as if the reality was finally dawning on him, Penelope.
But where was the young farmer now? He glanced around himself, spotting her freckled face at the bar speaking to Nathan Porter. She gave the barkeep a sad smile, a forlorn nod, and made her way back to Jeremy armed with another bottle of wine. When she sat down, the sadness that enveloped her was painfully obvious. It made Jeremy reach out and touch her hand. Had he been sober, this simple act would have been surpassed his usual awkward selection of social behaviours. But Jeremy was drunker than he had ever been before, and with the increasing toxicity in his blood, his barriers dropped.
Penelope gave him another sad smile and uncorked the new bottle of wine. After pouring herself and Jeremy a glass, she took a deep gulp that was followed by a shuddering sigh. "I just can't-- I can't-"
"I know."
Once again, Jeremy found himself wrestling intense feelings of guilt and sorrow. Earlier that day, Penelope had bought her horse to Jeremy. The cob was stricken with a strange disease that Jeremy had not recognised, let along knew how to cure. Within mere bells, his health had disintegrated and Coal had died a short while ago. Penelope had broken down into tears, whilst Jeremy had been consumed by a rotting guilt.
What was worse was that the farmer who's barn Jeremy had occupied for the day appeared to know exactly what was wrong with Coal immediately after Jeremy had described his odd symptoms. "Ah. Grass sickness, that is. Terrible disease. Only thing y'can do is make 'em comfortable."
Finally giving the sickness that had killed her pet a name had comforted Penelope. But Jeremy had felt quite different. It should have been him that had known what was wrong with the horse, even if it resulted in knowing there was little or nothing to be done. He was paid by the people of the Mithryn to be trusted with their beloved animals, and yet he had not recognised an apparently well-known fatal disease.