[She survived under the natural assumption that anything she said or did ran about a forty-sixty chance of leaving someone offended. For a person who tries to abide well by her own morals, she does a surprisingly great job of stepping on toes and bumbling about as if guided by nothing at all. Thank goodness, really, that she seems to attract just the sort of blend of ruffian-scholars who can help teach her the ropes. The ropes of not screaming out people's sexual histories when you glance them from across a room.
The ropes of how to tell good stories, also. She didn't forget. Especially not with him pushing her. She flops, with a bit of a spin even, down onto the couch. The couch that crinkles and squeaks out protest and sends curious fingers pressing on its edges.]
I'm down! You're upside down. [Well, from her perspective anyway.
Does booze always take a few years off your current age, is that how it works?]
Also important is settling down on the floor beside her, hand light and friendly on her hair. Just keep with the breathing and the not throwing up everywhere, lovely lady flower friend.]
[She's doing well on not throwing up. They're both lucky that, a stern stomach not withstanding, she's very hard to unbalance. Even drunk, even tumbling up the wrong stairs, there's enough confidence in her balance that she's not nauseous. Not while no longer hopping around, at least. As long as there's no more little teapots, they're both probably safe from her stomach contents.
Not safe from her grinning though, or her leaning up until his hand.] Fuzzy.
[Wait, he asked something right? Something about...] Yes. [That should answer well. She's in a good mood, surely a 'yes' is in order.
So is rolling onto her side, then deciding her back is better. The ceiling's not bad to look at, though it could stand to be still longer. She tries to hide her yawn with a hand.]
[It's all good. It's all her working to adjust to her (he'd put good money on it) first time being blitzed. It's all their version of holding back her hair on a horribly drunken escapade.
His mouth opens to launch into a story. There are a million old German fairy tales constantly on the tip of his tongue for emergency 'and now I just need to talk' situations.
But. Apparently a question.]
Go on, then.
usually 9-10 is bedtime, yeah! Late last night bc 'D&D' (we didn't. We were just ludicrous together)
[She'll still probably ask for the story afterwards. Or perhaps her question will inspire one all on its own accord. Who knows.
Lee just knows that she's glad there's someone else's voice around when the world won't stop vibrating.] Okay okay.
So how do you-- you're better with people than me.
[She's looking up at him with slightly squinted eyes but an entirely lopsided smile.] So how do you know when it's right to sleep with someone.
Not that I want to. [Giggling, she's giggling, and yet she thinks she's being sneaky. At least this clearly isn't a crying matter of unrequited love yet.]
Is D&D -not- just people being ridiculous together?
Hello, briefly serious question. What are you doing here amid the drunken revelry of it all?
There's a calm hum on his lips as he continues to smooth protectively at her hair. Just because he's fairly certain she won't remember anything about anything when she wakes up doesn't mean she doesn't deserve a good answer.]
When y' properly know them, and that they'll still respect you in the morning.
[Not what he lived by, but what he wanted for her.]
It is. It certainly is. (--I hope you don't mind Cynrics baby monk having her sudden feels okayokay)
You can't know that many people! [He's joking, surely. It's a good joke and she laughs about for probably longer than necessary, turning into the hand in her hair until she can smoosh her nose with it. Which prompts more snorting laughter.
But the advice was heard. It's being mulled over, however drunkenly and slowly.]
I guess...that's a yes then. [Which seems to please drunken-her. It'll frighten sober-her, just a little, and perhaps it shows even through her light-hearted stupor. It'll create a lot of awkward moments before the dive is taken and she can be properly rejected or accepted, and hopefully either one leads back to normalcy - with or sans sex.]
Thank you. [More face-splitting sloppy grins up at Cynric.] 'sjust weird. 'Ve never seen a guy and gone-- you know, cute. And I still just think he's okay but we're--
[Happy sigh. Best friends. Clearly it's her best friend whoever it is. More giggling because the warmth needs to get out somehow.]
[Oh, ridiculous munchkin flower, he knows those Feels. He knows the 'oh hello, person whose genitals I previously did not think were appealing, I am compelled to be ridiculously naked and tangled with you' feels and the 'oh hello, super best friend of many a year, your face needs my face attached to it by means of kisses and leeching adoration' feels. They are not good feels. Or bad feels. But they're even more feels-y when obviously blitzed out of one's tiny little monk-brain.
Or regular brain. Or oversized brain. Every brain.
Her cheek clearly needs a bit of pinching. It's the unfortunate way of the world.]
S' long as you don't get bollixed up about him 'til you're sober again, dearheart.
I've legit had about 5 real sessions with these guys we're the worst. Which is synonymous with best.
[Him getting it is lovely. Lee can either sense that he understands or she's just reacting to his general air of still being around while she's got her brain oozing out her ears but she's very, very happy he's here. When the cheek pinch happens she reaches up and latches on and is clearly intent on dragging him aggressively, sloppily down for a hug. Considering he was up at the head of the couch before, and even if he's moved probably isn't at an even angle for hugging someone laying down, it's bound to be awkward.
She doesn't care. For multiple reasons, only about half of them being that she's blitzed.] Bollixed. [That word connects to absolutely nothing in her brain except humor because that word is hilarious. Clearly.]
Well I let him sleep with that girl, sooo I'm doing pretty good not bothering him 'til I'm sober. [Ah, and now his identity is out. Possibly his sleeping with that girl had lead to her getting drunker much faster. Possibly it would have happened either way. Possibly she's actually, honestly not the jealous type - just the confused type, the unsure one when she's been this good friends for this long and changing it might end up making it strange.]
...don't blame him, that girl was okay. Cute hair. [Yeah okay she's just going to nuzzle the nearest bit of Cynric she's dragged over, is that alright.]
Lee this is not how hugs work Lee why are you using your drunken strength to crush him into you in the most awkward sort of squishing Lee you smell like beer Lee only one of you is drunk enough for this shit Leeeeeeee.
But, you know. Also. Also hugs. Also contorting his ridiculously lanky and bone-scrawny limbs into a comfortable sort of squish for a moment or two, because the poor dear innocent creature of love and ridiculousness and being a way better brother than his own despite being a girl and younger and whatever, okay.]
Girls with cute hair are a problem like that, alas.
I need more icons for her where she looks content as opposed to angry...
[And Cynric's the best brother despite being old enough for an uncle, which he also is in a small way, and a bit of sister too perhaps. Just a hodgepodge of bits and pieces of family that people are sometimes lucky enough to cobble together to make their own little worlds a little brighter and softer.
Emphasis on 'soft'. Even if Lee has a faceful of upside-down collarbone and jutting Adam's apple.
She huffs a beer-laced sigh into his shirt.]
Boys are...silly. [Nevermind that the awkwardly-stretched person she's hugging is a boy. And also prone to being silly.]
[Speaking as a silly boy himself--and as someone who had sometimes had to deal with the romance-feelings (and the general 'yes please that in my bed' feelings) which came with finding men attractive.]
T' be fair, though, munchkin, girls aren't that much un-silly-er.
[Speaking less as a girl and more as someone who typically found himself being smacked because of their own brands of silliness.]
Just as silly as his next statement.] Pffff-- I guess. Sometimes. [Speaking both as a girl and as someone who - rarely but more than with the newly-discovered boys - found herself dealing with Feelings.]
I think it's-- feelings that're to blame. Feelings r'silly but good. Except when they're...not. [Which her feelings are. Good, she means. Mostly good, almost entirely except for those few moments they've been a bit of a painful tugging in a direction she can't quite divine.
A serious moment from her follows. A serious, drunken moment, which means it ends rather abruptly in her distracted by their positioning. How Cynric's arms are stretched up above his head to accomodate the fact that he's been tugged down to hug her so strangely.
Cynric are you ticklish. Are you because she is going to find out.]
[No. Now is sitting up time. He'll sit up on the edge of the couch so she can keep her ridiculous death-grip on his wrist--and so she can see he's not leaving so much as not being attacked by her ridiculousness.
Pat pat on the forehead, delicate flower of fragility and painfully tight fingers.]
You tell me that in the morning and I'll buy you your next bottle of vodka.
Deal. [Cynric you fool. Or you utter not-fool since Lee is clearly over-estimating her drinking abilities. Or, well - her recovery abilities after drinking. It took a silly little amount to get her absolutely hammered, and it'll be that same silly little amount to have her absolutely miserable come morning.
But for now? For now she's being sat next to and indulged in and just generally enjoying not being left alone. Cynric is infinitely better than Alone and even better than the majority of people she could be with right now.
And you know what? She's still on her back. She she scoots up, re-settles on her side just for the benefit of claiming his lap for her head since he's sat next to her.] I like you too, y'know. Jus' different.
[And different isn't bad. Cynric of all people should know that. Cynric of all people should hopefully be not too surprised that Lee is a sappy, happy drunk her first go at it. A sappy happy drunk who is currently clasping his knee in one hand and leaning onto him with her head and hopefully she won't drool on him too much while asleep.]
[He's all for giving booze to people who can handle it. He's less for the amount of sad faces she's probably going to give him in the morning, because dear god she's going to have a jackhammer in her head if his calculations of other people's intoxication are correct.
Spoiler alert: as a drinker from the age of eight, they usually are.
Also spoiler alert: he's pretty sure his own liver is either going to quit any minute or is immortal. Uncertain.
Being tugged around means, at least, he can settle properly against the couch, fingers smoothing her hair again.] I know, dearheart. It's a good sort of different.
Good. Good, I want you to-- to know. Even if you don't always want you to know. [Funny how drunkenness gets you closer to the truth and farther from coherency every second.
But what's not funny, just consoling, is the feeling of his chest moving above her head. His breathing lulling her closer to sleep and his hand on her hair soothing her eyes shut despite her apparent want to keep talking.
She hums and nuzzles against his leg, stretching before she goes limp.]
[She hears that start of a story. She thinks she senses a rare honesty and, alcohol dulling the usually razor-sharp instinct to claw into nearby honesty - especially in those least likely to show it - she just shuffles up a bit closer.
She's here, Cynric. For whatever level of truth or lie this fairy tale ends up being.] Yer not alone either. [Is her small, intoxicated mumble against his outer thigh. She scrabbles loosely for a hand, hopes she finds one to cuddle close to her chest and draw against slack but dry lips.
She may regret not remembering more, asking for more, later - but for now she's learned her lessons of pressuring. He'll share what he wants to when he wants, and if he prefers while she's drunk and will recall only vague ideas and sensations-- Well. Surely they have years to go yet in their friendship.
She's here for now and for later. Forever as far as forever can take her, she hopes. It's the thought she snuggles in on as she edges closer to sleep.]
[That's fine, really. The start of the story is lovely, after all. It's about a man who loved a woman desperately, and saved her from a life she didn't want for a life of freedom. The start of the story is about the two little boys they had and loved very much.
It's the middle that gets confusing. It's not nice, telling stories about people drifting apart--or about people fighting. It's not a pleasant sort of thing for bedtime.
So maybe the truth of the middle will get whipped through, to get to the end. To the part where at least one of the boys gets back on his feet. Finds people who make him feel safe and loved again.
Meets the most ridiculously easily drunk monk in the universe, and is glad he's not alone.
[It is a nice story. It has a nice beginning and a slightly hole-filled darker middle and then the light comes out again for the sweeping end.
The best part, Lee thinks - or would if she were more conscious - is the fact that this story hasn't actually ended yet. That the little boy - now a not-so-little man - has found a place to be safe and loved and that that won't stop for the foreseeable future. That maybe there'll be growing pains still with his new friends but all in all he probably picked better candidates for himself than the hand he was dealt at birth.
It's a story with a happy ending, and no real ending at all yet - and possibilities are some of the best endings. The very best.
So the little not-sister in his lap will shift and hum and make herself only quietly known all night as he talks himself out. She'll cling sleepily to his hand and mumble occasional nonsense and hopefully he stays put through the most of it.
Because come morning, she's going to be far less content and far more volatile regarding stomach contents and light levels and sounds and it'd be a pity for such a happy ending not to gather the scrapes of real friendship. Hopefully he'll hold her hair back. Hopefully she'll aim far, far from his lap or arms or feet.
Hopefully, mostly, things settle right back to normal.]
{ooc; that last tag was so sweet I just need you to know :3c I think our hooligans earned this happy ending y/y}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(I WAS WORRIED ABOUT REQUESTING A REPLY AND NOW I REGRET NOTHING. EXCEPT I REGRET EVERYTHING.)
The ropes of how to tell good stories, also. She didn't forget. Especially not with him pushing her. She flops, with a bit of a spin even, down onto the couch. The couch that crinkles and squeaks out protest and sends curious fingers pressing on its edges.]
I'm down! You're upside down. [Well, from her perspective anyway.
Does booze always take a few years off your current age, is that how it works?]
(NO REGRETS, NO SURRENDER)
Also important is settling down on the floor beside her, hand light and friendly on her hair. Just keep with the breathing and the not throwing up everywhere, lovely lady flower friend.]
Better?
never regret <3
Not safe from her grinning though, or her leaning up until his hand.] Fuzzy.
[Wait, he asked something right? Something about...] Yes. [That should answer well. She's in a good mood, surely a 'yes' is in order.
So is rolling onto her side, then deciding her back is better. The ceiling's not bad to look at, though it could stand to be still longer. She tries to hide her yawn with a hand.]
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Still need a story?
[Or is now a fading sleepily time?]
You're around so early! \o/ and I'm around so late. The world is topsy turvy.
And there's an argument for both sides. Stories are fun. The stars in her vision are also fun.]
Yes. [Or at least the voice. She needs to know there's someone there til she falls asleep, story-telling or not.] Cynric? 've got a question first.
[Not that she'll be awake much longer by the looks of it.]
WOW SO LATE I ALWAYS ASSUME YOU'RE ASLEEP WHEN I GET UP ; ;
His mouth opens to launch into a story. There are a million old German fairy tales constantly on the tip of his tongue for emergency 'and now I just need to talk' situations.
But. Apparently a question.]
Go on, then.
usually 9-10 is bedtime, yeah! Late last night bc 'D&D' (we didn't. We were just ludicrous together)
Lee just knows that she's glad there's someone else's voice around when the world won't stop vibrating.] Okay okay.
So how do you-- you're better with people than me.
[She's looking up at him with slightly squinted eyes but an entirely lopsided smile.] So how do you know when it's right to sleep with someone.
Not that I want to. [Giggling, she's giggling, and yet she thinks she's being sneaky. At least this clearly isn't a crying matter of unrequited love yet.]
Is D&D -not- just people being ridiculous together?
Hello, briefly serious question. What are you doing here amid the drunken revelry of it all?
There's a calm hum on his lips as he continues to smooth protectively at her hair. Just because he's fairly certain she won't remember anything about anything when she wakes up doesn't mean she doesn't deserve a good answer.]
When y' properly know them, and that they'll still respect you in the morning.
[Not what he lived by, but what he wanted for her.]
It is. It certainly is. (--I hope you don't mind Cynrics baby monk having her sudden feels okayokay)
But the advice was heard. It's being mulled over, however drunkenly and slowly.]
I guess...that's a yes then. [Which seems to please drunken-her. It'll frighten sober-her, just a little, and perhaps it shows even through her light-hearted stupor. It'll create a lot of awkward moments before the dive is taken and she can be properly rejected or accepted, and hopefully either one leads back to normalcy - with or sans sex.]
Thank you. [More face-splitting sloppy grins up at Cynric.] 'sjust weird. 'Ve never seen a guy and gone-- you know, cute. And I still just think he's okay but we're--
[Happy sigh. Best friends. Clearly it's her best friend whoever it is. More giggling because the warmth needs to get out somehow.]
Best. \o/ (I want to squish her face foreverrr.)
Or regular brain. Or oversized brain. Every brain.
Her cheek clearly needs a bit of pinching. It's the unfortunate way of the world.]
S' long as you don't get bollixed up about him 'til you're sober again, dearheart.
I've legit had about 5 real sessions with these guys we're the worst. Which is synonymous with best.
She doesn't care. For multiple reasons, only about half of them being that she's blitzed.] Bollixed. [That word connects to absolutely nothing in her brain except humor because that word is hilarious. Clearly.]
Well I let him sleep with that girl, sooo I'm doing pretty good not bothering him 'til I'm sober. [Ah, and now his identity is out. Possibly his sleeping with that girl had lead to her getting drunker much faster. Possibly it would have happened either way. Possibly she's actually, honestly not the jealous type - just the confused type, the unsure one when she's been this good friends for this long and changing it might end up making it strange.]
...don't blame him, that girl was okay. Cute hair. [Yeah okay she's just going to nuzzle the nearest bit of Cynric she's dragged over, is that alright.]
The wooOOOoooOOOOorst.
Lee this is not how hugs work Lee why are you using your drunken strength to crush him into you in the most awkward sort of squishing Lee you smell like beer Lee only one of you is drunk enough for this shit Leeeeeeee.
But, you know. Also. Also hugs. Also contorting his ridiculously lanky and bone-scrawny limbs into a comfortable sort of squish for a moment or two, because the poor dear innocent creature of love and ridiculousness and being a way better brother than his own despite being a girl and younger and whatever, okay.]
Girls with cute hair are a problem like that, alas.
I need more icons for her where she looks content as opposed to angry...
Emphasis on 'soft'. Even if Lee has a faceful of upside-down collarbone and jutting Adam's apple.
She huffs a beer-laced sigh into his shirt.]
Boys are...silly. [Nevermind that the awkwardly-stretched person she's hugging is a boy. And also prone to being silly.]
We all have characters like that.
[Speaking as a silly boy himself--and as someone who had sometimes had to deal with the romance-feelings (and the general 'yes please that in my bed' feelings) which came with finding men attractive.]
T' be fair, though, munchkin, girls aren't that much un-silly-er.
[Speaking less as a girl and more as someone who typically found himself being smacked because of their own brands of silliness.]
It's an expected bane.
Just as silly as his next statement.] Pffff-- I guess. Sometimes. [Speaking both as a girl and as someone who - rarely but more than with the newly-discovered boys - found herself dealing with Feelings.]
I think it's-- feelings that're to blame. Feelings r'silly but good. Except when they're...not. [Which her feelings are. Good, she means. Mostly good, almost entirely except for those few moments they've been a bit of a painful tugging in a direction she can't quite divine.
A serious moment from her follows. A serious, drunken moment, which means it ends rather abruptly in her distracted by their positioning. How Cynric's arms are stretched up above his head to accomodate the fact that he's been tugged down to hug her so strangely.
Cynric are you ticklish. Are you because she is going to find out.]
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And your attempts at affection much... odder. He's not overly ticklish, but he's definitely.
Confused. And squirming just a little.]
--right. You're never drinking again.
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She lets him pull away - mostly. She's trying to cling to his wrist because he's not leaving her, is he? Tickling's not so bad.]
But it's fuuun! [Not when she wakes up, it won't be. It won't be hard to convince her to never drink again ever tomorrow morning.]
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Pat pat on the forehead, delicate flower of fragility and painfully tight fingers.]
You tell me that in the morning and I'll buy you your next bottle of vodka.
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But for now? For now she's being sat next to and indulged in and just generally enjoying not being left alone. Cynric is infinitely better than Alone and even better than the majority of people she could be with right now.
And you know what? She's still on her back. She she scoots up, re-settles on her side just for the benefit of claiming his lap for her head since he's sat next to her.] I like you too, y'know. Jus' different.
[And different isn't bad. Cynric of all people should know that. Cynric of all people should hopefully be not too surprised that Lee is a sappy, happy drunk her first go at it. A sappy happy drunk who is currently clasping his knee in one hand and leaning onto him with her head and hopefully she won't drool on him too much while asleep.]
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Spoiler alert: as a drinker from the age of eight, they usually are.
Also spoiler alert: he's pretty sure his own liver is either going to quit any minute or is immortal. Uncertain.
Being tugged around means, at least, he can settle properly against the couch, fingers smoothing her hair again.] I know, dearheart. It's a good sort of different.
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But what's not funny, just consoling, is the feeling of his chest moving above her head. His breathing lulling her closer to sleep and his hand on her hair soothing her eyes shut despite her apparent want to keep talking.
She hums and nuzzles against his leg, stretching before she goes limp.]
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Not so stupid Lee falling asleep on his lap, though. Sort of lovely Lee being curled up here safe and warm and such.]
...once upon a time.
[She'll be passed out before he gets to anything incriminating. But... that's fine.
It'll be nice to talk to her, quiet and honest, while she sleeps.]
Wow okay so just stab me in tHE HEART
She's here, Cynric. For whatever level of truth or lie this fairy tale ends up being.] Yer not alone either. [Is her small, intoxicated mumble against his outer thigh. She scrabbles loosely for a hand, hopes she finds one to cuddle close to her chest and draw against slack but dry lips.
She may regret not remembering more, asking for more, later - but for now she's learned her lessons of pressuring. He'll share what he wants to when he wants, and if he prefers while she's drunk and will recall only vague ideas and sensations-- Well. Surely they have years to go yet in their friendship.
She's here for now and for later. Forever as far as forever can take her, she hopes. It's the thought she snuggles in on as she edges closer to sleep.]
I do enjoy it. :3 ...I mean um. \o/?
It's the middle that gets confusing. It's not nice, telling stories about people drifting apart--or about people fighting. It's not a pleasant sort of thing for bedtime.
So maybe the truth of the middle will get whipped through, to get to the end. To the part where at least one of the boys gets back on his feet. Finds people who make him feel safe and loved again.
Meets the most ridiculously easily drunk monk in the universe, and is glad he's not alone.
It's a nice story, at the end of things.]
He's so. Goddamn cute sometimes. >:'[
The best part, Lee thinks - or would if she were more conscious - is the fact that this story hasn't actually ended yet. That the little boy - now a not-so-little man - has found a place to be safe and loved and that that won't stop for the foreseeable future. That maybe there'll be growing pains still with his new friends but all in all he probably picked better candidates for himself than the hand he was dealt at birth.
It's a story with a happy ending, and no real ending at all yet - and possibilities are some of the best endings. The very best.
So the little not-sister in his lap will shift and hum and make herself only quietly known all night as he talks himself out. She'll cling sleepily to his hand and mumble occasional nonsense and hopefully he stays put through the most of it.
Because come morning, she's going to be far less content and far more volatile regarding stomach contents and light levels and sounds and it'd be a pity for such a happy ending not to gather the scrapes of real friendship. Hopefully he'll hold her hair back. Hopefully she'll aim far, far from his lap or arms or feet.
Hopefully, mostly, things settle right back to normal.]
{ooc; that last tag was so sweet I just need you to know :3c I think our hooligans earned this happy ending y/y}