Arwyn

The Wedding Reception

The stink of the seashore loomed heavily in the humid night air as Neverlin took another long swig from the bottle of blackberry wine. Smacking his lips, he slunk against the side of an abandoned warehouse. He strained to keep his eyes open as the soporific effects of the sweet liquor dulled his senses.  Normally, he did not condone drinking to excess, being a firm believer in keeping one’s facilities optimal.

But it had been a particularly tough week and the life he led now seemed a grim caricature of the one he envisioned.  So he sighed and indulged himself with another swallow.