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Blueberry Yogurt #7. A Fresh Start
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1275
Word Count : 1051
The other half of the would-be brownie (and death to my brownie sundae, but it had to happen), this follows the sword lesson though obviously there are things missing between the two, which I will hopefully get back to.
With a deep breath and one last swipe of the back of her fist across sore, puffy eyes, Mara set to picking her way through the sitting room. With the curtains drawn, it was dark as dusk in the middle of the day. A groan rose from the vicinity of the couch. Mara sighed.
“In the dark again?”
Mother barely raised her head from the shoulder it was rested on. “Like it here,” she said.
Mara leaned over the back of the couch and pulled the half empty bottle from between her mother’s hip and the pillows. She brought the mouth to her nose and took a whiff of the clear liquid. “Gin?” She wrinkled her nose as she peered over the bottle at the body sprawled on the cushions.
“S'cheap.” Mother put a hand to her head as she squinted back at her.
Mara felt a sting at the back of her eye. She blinked it away. “Isn't... isn't there anything you've ever really wanted?”
“Yeah. Right now.” Mother lurched an inch or two off the pillows. “That bottle. Hand it over.” A hand thrust up to take a swing in her direction, coming nowhere close to Mara or the bottle.
Mara pulled it to her chest as the hand made another feeble grab at the open air. “I mean anything important.”
The arm ceased its useless flailing and flopped back across her chest. Mother scrunched up her face as if it hurt to think. “Like what?”
“Like your reputation, my father, me.” Her hand clenched tighter about the neck of the bottle as tears crept threateningly close to the surface. “You give all you had for any of those?”
Mother let out a heavy sigh and melted a bit further into the cushions. “Sometimes all you got ain't enough.”
“So what?” She swallowed hard. “You give up? You roll over and drink it all away?” Mara pulled the gin from her chest and gave it a contemplative swish and another sniff. “Does that work?”
“Give me 'at.” Mother snapped upright and, with alarming speed and precision for one so inebriated, snatched the bottle from Mara’s grasp. She fixed her with a dark, smoldering glare as her knuckles curled white around the glass. “What would you know?”
Mara opened her mouth to protest as Mother rolled off the couch and onto her feet, but her voice would not comply. Mother lumbered across the room, weaving and staggering, the bottle dangling from one fist. As she passed through the doorway into her room, there was a crash and the tinkling wave of shards skittering about the floor. A rush of slurred and broken curses followed as Mother stooped the pick at the remains. Mara bit her lip as the tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks.
“L-let me help you.” She crossed the room to join the figure hunched in the doorway and dropped to squat beside the glass-studded pool of gin on the floor.
Mother scowled at her and reached with a shaking hand to pull a chunk of jagged glass from the mess. “I can... I can…” She deposited the shard in her skirt and grabbed at another. She dropped the glass and drew back her hand, blood welling along her fingers.
Mara picked up the bloody fragment and laid it and then two more of its fellows in a stack outside the puddle.
“Thanks,” said Mother. She watched Mara gather another piece and another, quietly folding her finger in her skirt, and sighed. Mara dropped the bit of glass she was moving and met her eye. There was exhaustion behind the hazy gloss of alcohol, rings beneath her eyes that spoke of more than just the current binge. “No,” she said slowly. “You don't give up. You remember that. Better than I have.” She jabbed the finger, still matted with blood, in Mara’s general direction and swayed a bit on her knees. “I'm... I'm gonna go sleep this off.”
Mother forced herself to her feet and glass rained down from her skirt as it went slack. She paid no notice as it rattled to the floor and instead, half patted, half leaned on Mara’s shoulder and hobbled towards the bed.
Mara surveyed the sticky mess slowly seeping into the floorboards before her for a long, quiet moment before heading in search of a wastebasket and a mop.
Aunt Kari shuffled into the kitchen, eyes bleary, hair mussed, and hands shoved deep into the pockets of her robe. Out of the corner of her eye, Mara caught the puzzled stare she gave the spectacle unfolding at the sink. She swallowed the urge to cheer, to grin, to say she was just as certain it couldn’t have been so, and kept her eyes and her hands on the book propped open on the table before her instead. She caught Shamino focusing on his breakfast with the same intensity.
“Lyssa?” said Aunt Kari over the steady gush of liquid into the basin.
“Shhh!” Mother paused, the half-empty bottle teetering in her hand.
“Is that... all your liquor...?” Aunt Kari slowly scanned the counter and its clutter of empty bottles as the noisy flow resumed.
Mother nodded, then stopped again to put a hand to her head. “Don't need it anymore.”
“Well,” said Aunt Kari, “this is a pleasant turn of events.” She turned her sleepy stare on Mara and the fight against the grin grew more difficult still. “Did you, by chance, have something to do with this?”
“I'd like to think so,” said Mara, the grin winning out as she looked up from her reading. There was a clink as Sham dropped his spoon against his bowl and now he was gaping at her.
The last of the liquor slid down the drain and Mother placed the empty bottle with its fellows. “You want something enough, you give it what you've got,” she said. “I'm done with this stuff.” With a wince, she put her hand back to her temple. “And… soon as this headache clears, I'm going.”
Aunt Kari looked up, a frown settling across her features, and Mara let her book fall to the table as she followed suit, and Sham whipped around to stare as well. “Where?” said Aunt Kari.
“North.” Mother shrugged. “Somewhere with demons.”
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1275
Word Count : 1051
The other half of the would-be brownie (and death to my brownie sundae, but it had to happen), this follows the sword lesson though obviously there are things missing between the two, which I will hopefully get back to.
With a deep breath and one last swipe of the back of her fist across sore, puffy eyes, Mara set to picking her way through the sitting room. With the curtains drawn, it was dark as dusk in the middle of the day. A groan rose from the vicinity of the couch. Mara sighed.
“In the dark again?”
Mother barely raised her head from the shoulder it was rested on. “Like it here,” she said.
Mara leaned over the back of the couch and pulled the half empty bottle from between her mother’s hip and the pillows. She brought the mouth to her nose and took a whiff of the clear liquid. “Gin?” She wrinkled her nose as she peered over the bottle at the body sprawled on the cushions.
“S'cheap.” Mother put a hand to her head as she squinted back at her.
Mara felt a sting at the back of her eye. She blinked it away. “Isn't... isn't there anything you've ever really wanted?”
“Yeah. Right now.” Mother lurched an inch or two off the pillows. “That bottle. Hand it over.” A hand thrust up to take a swing in her direction, coming nowhere close to Mara or the bottle.
Mara pulled it to her chest as the hand made another feeble grab at the open air. “I mean anything important.”
The arm ceased its useless flailing and flopped back across her chest. Mother scrunched up her face as if it hurt to think. “Like what?”
“Like your reputation, my father, me.” Her hand clenched tighter about the neck of the bottle as tears crept threateningly close to the surface. “You give all you had for any of those?”
Mother let out a heavy sigh and melted a bit further into the cushions. “Sometimes all you got ain't enough.”
“So what?” She swallowed hard. “You give up? You roll over and drink it all away?” Mara pulled the gin from her chest and gave it a contemplative swish and another sniff. “Does that work?”
“Give me 'at.” Mother snapped upright and, with alarming speed and precision for one so inebriated, snatched the bottle from Mara’s grasp. She fixed her with a dark, smoldering glare as her knuckles curled white around the glass. “What would you know?”
Mara opened her mouth to protest as Mother rolled off the couch and onto her feet, but her voice would not comply. Mother lumbered across the room, weaving and staggering, the bottle dangling from one fist. As she passed through the doorway into her room, there was a crash and the tinkling wave of shards skittering about the floor. A rush of slurred and broken curses followed as Mother stooped the pick at the remains. Mara bit her lip as the tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks.
“L-let me help you.” She crossed the room to join the figure hunched in the doorway and dropped to squat beside the glass-studded pool of gin on the floor.
Mother scowled at her and reached with a shaking hand to pull a chunk of jagged glass from the mess. “I can... I can…” She deposited the shard in her skirt and grabbed at another. She dropped the glass and drew back her hand, blood welling along her fingers.
Mara picked up the bloody fragment and laid it and then two more of its fellows in a stack outside the puddle.
“Thanks,” said Mother. She watched Mara gather another piece and another, quietly folding her finger in her skirt, and sighed. Mara dropped the bit of glass she was moving and met her eye. There was exhaustion behind the hazy gloss of alcohol, rings beneath her eyes that spoke of more than just the current binge. “No,” she said slowly. “You don't give up. You remember that. Better than I have.” She jabbed the finger, still matted with blood, in Mara’s general direction and swayed a bit on her knees. “I'm... I'm gonna go sleep this off.”
Mother forced herself to her feet and glass rained down from her skirt as it went slack. She paid no notice as it rattled to the floor and instead, half patted, half leaned on Mara’s shoulder and hobbled towards the bed.
Mara surveyed the sticky mess slowly seeping into the floorboards before her for a long, quiet moment before heading in search of a wastebasket and a mop.
Aunt Kari shuffled into the kitchen, eyes bleary, hair mussed, and hands shoved deep into the pockets of her robe. Out of the corner of her eye, Mara caught the puzzled stare she gave the spectacle unfolding at the sink. She swallowed the urge to cheer, to grin, to say she was just as certain it couldn’t have been so, and kept her eyes and her hands on the book propped open on the table before her instead. She caught Shamino focusing on his breakfast with the same intensity.
“Lyssa?” said Aunt Kari over the steady gush of liquid into the basin.
“Shhh!” Mother paused, the half-empty bottle teetering in her hand.
“Is that... all your liquor...?” Aunt Kari slowly scanned the counter and its clutter of empty bottles as the noisy flow resumed.
Mother nodded, then stopped again to put a hand to her head. “Don't need it anymore.”
“Well,” said Aunt Kari, “this is a pleasant turn of events.” She turned her sleepy stare on Mara and the fight against the grin grew more difficult still. “Did you, by chance, have something to do with this?”
“I'd like to think so,” said Mara, the grin winning out as she looked up from her reading. There was a clink as Sham dropped his spoon against his bowl and now he was gaping at her.
The last of the liquor slid down the drain and Mother placed the empty bottle with its fellows. “You want something enough, you give it what you've got,” she said. “I'm done with this stuff.” With a wince, she put her hand back to her temple. “And… soon as this headache clears, I'm going.”
Aunt Kari looked up, a frown settling across her features, and Mara let her book fall to the table as she followed suit, and Sham whipped around to stare as well. “Where?” said Aunt Kari.
“North.” Mother shrugged. “Somewhere with demons.”