On the rocks [Open]

On the rocks [Open] Dec 19, 2012 12:51:19 GMT -5

Post by ali on Dec 19, 2012 12:51:19 GMT -5

It has been raining for an entire day in District Ten- and Shiloh mumbled complaints as he took sanctuary in a bar not far from the fields he worked in. I hate the rain he thought to himself as he slung his mud drenched coat over a hanger and stamped his boot on the bare welcome mat; which didn’t even read welcome anymore because of the mud that smothered it. The bar was lively and chatty, people were already drinking and having a good time- despite being a poor district, those of District 10 did love their booze; the men in particular all gathered in the bars and kitchens of friends on a Friday night to drink to their hearts content. Mind you, the alcohol was almost pure Ethanol and a lot of the older men who had been drinking it had gone blind by 50- a worrying thought for an alcoholic like Shiloh. Shiloh would always say to those who told him drinking was bad for him, he would nearly always chuckle and smile before telling them “I wouldn’t mind being blind, mean I wouldn’t have to see you again”; this comment often lead to a laugh or too and sometimes a fight.

As Shiloh crossed to the bar, he dodged couples upon couples upon couples- for some reason the bar was full of them tonight. He was pretty sure half of them weren’t real, that some may be the local prostitute giving some poor sod the ‘Girlfriend’ experience; while others were so drunk, that Shiloh was sure they just fell together. As for Shiloh, he had no one to go to the pubs with- he wasn’t very popular at work so had no friends there, he didn’t have any brothers or sisters or even a girlfriend to drink with- he was alone, and that was life for him. The rich smell of alcohol was always too tempting for Shiloh; the thick fumes of liquor and ethanol was choking Shiloh, like a snake it wrapped itself round him until he could bear no more. He needed a glass or two to calm his nerves, to stop the insistent nagging in the back of his mind to drink more- it would nullify the pain of being alive.

Shiloh sat on the bar stool, leaning against the bar. It wouldn’t take the bar man long to see him and pour the exact drink he needed- he’d been working in his Aunts fields all day, the time had passed slowly and put pressure on his damaged brain; his back ached from carrying the sacks of hay from one barn to another, then bringing in coal to warm the house. He had thought of going back to the house for a bath before he came here to the bar; but the voice inside his head was kicking and screaming- desperate for that first drop of alcohol. He heard the glass being placed down in front of him, before he nodded thanks towards the bar keeper; his hand already clasping round the metallic cup; no fancy glass cups here. Shiloh swirled the whiskey for one moment before taking a large swig of it- letting the warm liquid run down his throat and warm his body.

On the rocks [Open] Dec 31, 2012 20:39:04 GMT -5

Post by probablyflashy on Dec 31, 2012 20:39:04 GMT -5

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{Sixteen|District Ten}

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

What a terrible day. It's cold and rainy. I'm a little worried that, as the temperature drops, the rain we've had today will turn into freezing rain. I don't even want to be outside today, honestly. I wouldn't be, if we didn't have a cow in need of immediate medical attention.

It's just a shame my dad's the only one who can help. Mom only knows about healing people, after all. Animal medicine is not her forte.

This time of day, Dad's usually at one of the local watering holes, drinking liquor like the Peacekeepers are gonna burn down all the stills. If I find him--big if, he's probably gonna be too wasted to be any help. But I promised to try and find him. I can't go back on that now.

So, here I am at my first stop. Deep tracks in the mud lead me from the main road all the way to the bar's entrance. There's mud splattered all over the front of the weak-looking wooden door. I know there's a welcome mat somewhere in front of the door, but there's so much mud that I can't tell where it was. Most of Dad's ranch hands come here after work. They usually invite him along, too. This is the most logical place to start looking.

The place is crowded tonight, moreso than usual. Pretty much everyone is drunk already, and several men and women have paired up. I'm on edge. I tower over most of these women and quite a few of the men. My hair is coming loose from its tight, braided bun--a few strands tickle my nose. Some of the men are staring at me, because I'm dressed like some of them. Flannel shirt, denim overalls, heavy boots. It's not my fault it's hard to find clothes made for a six-foot tall woman.

There's a sea of familiar faces here--Toby, one of our hands, a couple of women whose names I don't recall, but I don't see Dad. It's so crowded at the bar that I can really only see the people sitting in the middle. Dad could be sitting at the far end. I push through the crowd, toward the bar, and some drunk man grabs my ass.

I wheel on him. He's grinning. He's shorter than me, by a lot. Old, too, with a wispy white beard. The dim light in the bar bounces off of his shiny, white head. He makes me think of a malevolent garden gnome.

"You touch me again, and I'll make you regret it," I snarl. I am in no mood for this garbage tonight. I want to find Dad and go home.

Some of the other men have started forming a circle around the two of us.

"Wanna dance, boy-girl?" wheezes the man with the wispy beard.

I punch him, instead.