He once heard a theory that the higher someone was from the ground the less they weighed. He considered the possible heaviness of his feet meant that he was deeper into the core of this world—
wherever Hades might be. All he knew was he felt a few shades darker here, a heightened intensity for irritability, a complexity of shame and guilt and a bit more disdain for himself and for this world. Booker found little comfort here and even less joy. The spirits here, however, were strong and he wasn’t sure if it was some sort of ironic dark twist of comedy that the sins of his past world felt so much better here or if it was a general joke that spirits in Hades would harness a satisfying quench just for namesake alone. Either way Booker took to the drink with a dependent need of comfort and reliability.
He had been here for over a hour, a new bar for him to try and stumble out of. He was grateful there was no shortage of places for him to hang his hat, no matter what time of day it was. Little Hades was at least accommodating to the sinner and over indulger. What would he care, the worst he’ll ever do he’s already done; so coming here was the best he could ever hope for, especially when this place was well equipped to handle his kind of taste.
He left the bar about three hours since he’d come to it and his wandering feet took yet another road untraveled as he spiraled deeper into his mind. His trek was slow and his hands occasionally went out around him to steady his balance, this was when he felt the best. Drunk and numb.
Yet something penetrated his thoughts and he looked with unfocused eyes as he followed the sound of a voice familiar to him. It was like he was on auto-pilot because he didn’t find himself focusing until he saw the girl on the stage. He had both hands on the frame of the door and the open door pressed to his backside. His sight moved through the cloud of darkness with the dim of lights and beneath the spotlight a raven haired beauty had his heart skip a beat.
no subject
wherever Hades might be. All he knew was he felt a few shades darker here, a heightened intensity for irritability, a complexity of shame and guilt and a bit more disdain for himself and for this world. Booker found little comfort here and even less joy. The spirits here, however, were strong and he wasn’t sure if it was some sort of ironic dark twist of comedy that the sins of his past world felt so much better here or if it was a general joke that spirits in Hades would harness a satisfying quench just for namesake alone. Either way Booker took to the drink with a dependent need of comfort and reliability.
He had been here for over a hour, a new bar for him to try and stumble out of. He was grateful there was no shortage of places for him to hang his hat, no matter what time of day it was. Little Hades was at least accommodating to the sinner and over indulger. What would he care, the worst he’ll ever do he’s already done; so coming here was the best he could ever hope for, especially when this place was well equipped to handle his kind of taste.
He left the bar about three hours since he’d come to it and his wandering feet took yet another road untraveled as he spiraled deeper into his mind. His trek was slow and his hands occasionally went out around him to steady his balance, this was when he felt the best. Drunk and numb.
Yet something penetrated his thoughts and he looked with unfocused eyes as he followed the sound of a voice familiar to him. It was like he was on auto-pilot because he didn’t find himself focusing until he saw the girl on the stage. He had both hands on the frame of the door and the open door pressed to his backside. His sight moved through the cloud of darkness with the dim of lights and beneath the spotlight a raven haired beauty had his heart skip a beat.