13th of Spring, 522 A.V.
Who could have guessed sleeping on the floor would be a bad idea. Cleon woke up with more aches and pains than he went to bed with, rolling onto his back with a deliberate groan. He hesitated to open his eyes as already he could feel a rush at the back of them as his pulse thundered in his ears, the beat of his heart like throwing a bell down a staircase. His mouth couldn’t have been drier if he had eaten a mouthful of sand last night, which given how poor of a time he had of recollecting it, he just might have done. There was really only thing to do as he lay against the floor trying to stretch the pain away. Open his eyes.
He did, and going from a dim red to that practically blinded him for several moments as he squinted his eyes shut while continuing to stare at the after image that blinked in time with his headache. Cleon groaned again, this time something deeper, more instinctive as he rolled onto his stomach, and propped himself up onto his elbows. Even with his eyes closed the world still spun with the movement. Bile suddenly burned at the back of his throat. Cleon heaved, and something warm wetness landed on his hand. He could scarcely feel the rest dribble down his chin before his head thunked against the floor.
Cleon opened his eyes quickly realizing he must have not been out long because the vomit was still warm and still very wet. He almost wretched again, but managed to stop himself by clenching his teeth. With a little more effort he pushed his way onto his knees, still bent forward with most of his weight towards his elbows. It was another several long, agonizing moments before he managed to get to where he was half sitting up, his legs splayed underneath.
Grabbing the edge of the bed for support, Cleon looked around and was relieved that the room was empty, the sheets undisturbed. There was another thought, or thoughts rather that should be there, but it hurt too much to look for them. He closed his eyes up, and climbed upwards until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. His head swam with the effort, and he found himself falling head first into the plush sheets which felt a lot better than the floor had. He laid there for what felt like thirty chimes until his headache subsided somewhat and the world stopped spinning enough for him to pull himself up to a sitting position again. Then when it seemed the spinning might be gone for good, Cleon reached for the foot board, missed, pitched forward and clipped the desk with his shoulder.
He was back on his back again, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the night sky got there as all he could see was blackness with white dots periodically poking through. A warmth spread through his pants then, and Cleon noticed he pissed himself. As it spread up his lower back, he wondered just how he’d gotten to this point in his life for a long while before he tried picking himself up again.
This time he took it slow and so was more successful as he drew himself to a standing position beside the desk. Although he was shaking like a leaf, the world wasn’t spinning like a top, and he could see relatively clearly. Still it was not without a little trepidation that he took his first step towards the door on shaky legs, then another and another till he was gripping the doorknob tightly as his heart rattled away in his chest. With that first milestone out of the way, he leaned his weight against the wall beside where the door would open, and then cracked it a bit to peer down the hallway.
When he saw the way was clear, he’d shambled his way out of the room, leaning heavily against the wall as he made his way into the bathroom. There he checked the room much in the same way as he had the hallway but with less patience as the vantage point wasn’t as good, and he’d rather not be caught out in the hallway soaked in piss. So he pressed inside a room that was blessedly empty before practically slamming the door behind him. Then he leaned against the door for a long moment as he took in a deep breath then tentatively walked over to the basin where he hastily splashed cold water over his face which managed to steady him somewhat. Then he hastily stripped down and started rinsing his clothes in the water. Fortunately he found a cut of soap beside the basin and started promptly scrubbing at the fabric to get hopefully most of the smell out before he re-donned the wet clothes.
Looking at how ridiculous he looked, he realized he needed to get some new clothes but that could at least wait until after breakfast. He walked out into the hallway intending to go back to his room to tap into his rations when he smelt something more appealing wafting down the hallway. Cleon knew that meant people but it felt like there was no arguing with his stomach this time as one foot after the other he found himself easing down the hallway using his right hand for guidance along the wall while his left arm hung mostly useless at his side, still smarting from the brush he had with the desk.
He came out stumbling into the common room, and saw two women who looked at the moment to be rather busy. There was something familiar about their faces, one more so than the other, but he didn’t quite pick it out until the more familiar woman spoke up. The sound was subtly different, but that was his sister Faye’s voice, there could be no denying it. Cleon swallowed hard seeing how much older she looked now that she was of a height with him, and pieces of last night drifted to the fore, though they made his head hurt considerably more.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Cleon leaned against the wall as he composed himself before opening them again. His vision felt hot, and watery as the blurred outlines of the women refocused, and Cleon made a hasty decision.
“Look, I’m sorry about last night. The way I acted. It wasn’t right.” Cleon said, his voice thick with emotion, and he clenched his right hand, belatedly remembering the cut when he felt a dull throb go up his wrist. “It won’t happen again, not so long as I can help it under your roof.” He said, assuming this lady was the innkeeper her since she seemed to be taking that role rather regularly. “Now can I help make breakfast, cause I’m actually rather hungry myself,” Cleon said while looking apologetic.
WC - 1,157
He did, and going from a dim red to that practically blinded him for several moments as he squinted his eyes shut while continuing to stare at the after image that blinked in time with his headache. Cleon groaned again, this time something deeper, more instinctive as he rolled onto his stomach, and propped himself up onto his elbows. Even with his eyes closed the world still spun with the movement. Bile suddenly burned at the back of his throat. Cleon heaved, and something warm wetness landed on his hand. He could scarcely feel the rest dribble down his chin before his head thunked against the floor.
Cleon opened his eyes quickly realizing he must have not been out long because the vomit was still warm and still very wet. He almost wretched again, but managed to stop himself by clenching his teeth. With a little more effort he pushed his way onto his knees, still bent forward with most of his weight towards his elbows. It was another several long, agonizing moments before he managed to get to where he was half sitting up, his legs splayed underneath.
Grabbing the edge of the bed for support, Cleon looked around and was relieved that the room was empty, the sheets undisturbed. There was another thought, or thoughts rather that should be there, but it hurt too much to look for them. He closed his eyes up, and climbed upwards until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. His head swam with the effort, and he found himself falling head first into the plush sheets which felt a lot better than the floor had. He laid there for what felt like thirty chimes until his headache subsided somewhat and the world stopped spinning enough for him to pull himself up to a sitting position again. Then when it seemed the spinning might be gone for good, Cleon reached for the foot board, missed, pitched forward and clipped the desk with his shoulder.
He was back on his back again, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the night sky got there as all he could see was blackness with white dots periodically poking through. A warmth spread through his pants then, and Cleon noticed he pissed himself. As it spread up his lower back, he wondered just how he’d gotten to this point in his life for a long while before he tried picking himself up again.
This time he took it slow and so was more successful as he drew himself to a standing position beside the desk. Although he was shaking like a leaf, the world wasn’t spinning like a top, and he could see relatively clearly. Still it was not without a little trepidation that he took his first step towards the door on shaky legs, then another and another till he was gripping the doorknob tightly as his heart rattled away in his chest. With that first milestone out of the way, he leaned his weight against the wall beside where the door would open, and then cracked it a bit to peer down the hallway.
When he saw the way was clear, he’d shambled his way out of the room, leaning heavily against the wall as he made his way into the bathroom. There he checked the room much in the same way as he had the hallway but with less patience as the vantage point wasn’t as good, and he’d rather not be caught out in the hallway soaked in piss. So he pressed inside a room that was blessedly empty before practically slamming the door behind him. Then he leaned against the door for a long moment as he took in a deep breath then tentatively walked over to the basin where he hastily splashed cold water over his face which managed to steady him somewhat. Then he hastily stripped down and started rinsing his clothes in the water. Fortunately he found a cut of soap beside the basin and started promptly scrubbing at the fabric to get hopefully most of the smell out before he re-donned the wet clothes.
Looking at how ridiculous he looked, he realized he needed to get some new clothes but that could at least wait until after breakfast. He walked out into the hallway intending to go back to his room to tap into his rations when he smelt something more appealing wafting down the hallway. Cleon knew that meant people but it felt like there was no arguing with his stomach this time as one foot after the other he found himself easing down the hallway using his right hand for guidance along the wall while his left arm hung mostly useless at his side, still smarting from the brush he had with the desk.
He came out stumbling into the common room, and saw two women who looked at the moment to be rather busy. There was something familiar about their faces, one more so than the other, but he didn’t quite pick it out until the more familiar woman spoke up. The sound was subtly different, but that was his sister Faye’s voice, there could be no denying it. Cleon swallowed hard seeing how much older she looked now that she was of a height with him, and pieces of last night drifted to the fore, though they made his head hurt considerably more.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Cleon leaned against the wall as he composed himself before opening them again. His vision felt hot, and watery as the blurred outlines of the women refocused, and Cleon made a hasty decision.
“Look, I’m sorry about last night. The way I acted. It wasn’t right.” Cleon said, his voice thick with emotion, and he clenched his right hand, belatedly remembering the cut when he felt a dull throb go up his wrist. “It won’t happen again, not so long as I can help it under your roof.” He said, assuming this lady was the innkeeper her since she seemed to be taking that role rather regularly. “Now can I help make breakfast, cause I’m actually rather hungry myself,” Cleon said while looking apologetic.
WC - 1,157