~| Gone with the w i n d |~ RAVE

Routines are nothing but an action set to influence daily life, adding a simple task to better basic life. Routines are basic acts that you have to remind yourself of in the morning to accomplish; habits on the other hand are subconscience acts performed without a single thought. Walking home after completing an errand is a simple habit, as it was an obvious process that required no reminder. The act of me entering the same bar repeatedly times in a week was once a routine, a planned event I etched into the back of my mind. Yet, after the time span of over three years, a once vague idea had evolved into a healthy uncontrolled habit.

To break a habit requires time inaccessible to myself, so I live the habit of flooding my nerves with nothing but mere alcohol. Once day transforms into night, instead of returning to a simple house among the crowd I was taught to blend in, my own retreat was the comfort of an even more crowded building filled to the brim with either other people or broken furniture. Our mentor never understood why, instead of seeing a bar for what it was, he saw it as a "waste of time". What does the brotherhood sanctuary hold for me after dark? My training was finished and if there were any contracts left over the first assassin would have claimed them already.

Yet, The bar seemed to hold more than the average empty promise, as it held the epitome of empty promises. It must be hard to avoid getting involved after engulfing yourself in too many shots, but I never have tried since being reckless was like a strong suit to me. I wasn't trained to be reckless, but it was somewhere in the masquerading genes that influenced me like the habits I never sought to conquer. My training did include how to hunt down an assigned contact however, one of the few of my claims to fame that my mentor managed to acknowledge fully. Besides, It was no question as to how I became a professional quickly, hunting down another empty promise every day gives great practice.

Self-control was an uncomprehendable act once an entire bottle of alcohol took course. The dimmed lights held nearly no wake up call to any choices that would show regret come the next day. Sparse images from the night before was really the only memory that the night before had even happened as well. Flickers of my hands meeting his had been somewhere. "His" was really the only memory I had managed to retain, as alcohol held the rest hostage. I hadn't even remembered the name that he may or may not have given me. All I would remember would be the sloppy ways my face almost met his, but ended in a headbutt to the chin. Minutes after leaving and fragments was the only things remaining. He went the other way, while I stumbled in the opposite direction, ready to greet nothing in particular.

Sobriety works in odd ways. As during the day I had all the streets were memorized, every turn and every alley, yet after engulfing myself in a mere full bottle the most remedial tasks deemed to be near impossible standards. Even getting back to the same home I reside in everyday appears to be more than strenuous. Especially when those very streets have evolved into distortion, remaining blurred hues of dark browns and greys until they appeared sporadically almost on top of me. Any light that had radiated nearby were utterly useless in fact, it managed only to just create a more than a nuisance light that assisted in blurring everything in around it.

Remedial had been a rather exact definition however. It felt like trying to walk or speak for the first time, standing up only to nearly fall back down again, taking up more than minutes to only walk down the street. My hands were either pressed against a wall, a bench or the ground, pushing myself back up. Practice had not always meant to lead to perfection, even throughout attempting to crawl back to the order for years, rarely did I manage to succeed to without casualties.

I managed to stumble myself into one of the more lonely streets of District 2, plagued with no population or light, which was some what comforting. Being surrounded by almost two hundred other bodies for almost an hour and a half loses it's appeal day after day, so it was relaxing to be fully camouflaged without attempting to be. The lack of light had not disturbed me much either, since it was more of an oasis as it seemed to scare people away. Alone. Being alone never really occurred much, even during the life of an assassin. I was always surrounded by some other being, rather it be my brothers, two hundred drunkard faces or somebody reaching near their last breath.

"Drunk again? Well well well what a surprise!" The sarcasm-coated voice filled the air, not even attempting to withdraw from disturbing anybody or anything around. Despite being trained to be fearless enough to jump from multiple story houses, this voice still broke through, forcing an immediate shocked reaction. Turning my body to the face of the trespasser, the first initial notice was the growing smirk across his face, which seemed to appear more than it should. Demitri, perfect. "Where are you going, sugar cube?," His voice kicked up an octave fast, matching that of either a hyena or a general prostitute, but he matched either perfectly. "My place is this way."

Masquerading my own irritation, I attempted to laugh along, adding in my own smirk after he finished his act. "Hello Demitiri." I let out, while attempting to hold onto the half-assed smile. "And how may I help your royal highness today?" The smirk on my face gradually forming as I bow to face him, even while I stumble trying to not fall over.

During my childhood I had awful balance, which was ironic considering the path I'd been born to take, but even the slightest disturbance could send me tumbling to the ground. Errol and Demitri thought of me as pathetic by falling over on accident, even while I could slice one of the dummies our Mentor trained us against in less than a couple of seconds. Riddle couldn't stand on his own two feet either at that time, but we also feared more for our own lives behind him when he was training than if we were fighting him ourselves.

Somehow falling to the ground made my ever falling balance worse however, making my whole body feel as if the world was being ripped in half at the seams. The cement-caked walkway scraped against the already rough edges of both of my palm, but it was quickly numbed by the lingering mist of one of my famous hangovers-to-be. Most of me was already rough really, due to the ground and my face seem to meet customarily, sober or not. The callouses marking up the majority of my arms to the palms at the end of them are just gritty emblems that prove I've been doing something right compared to the others, even if they don't see it clearly that way.

Demitri's voice is not rough like my own voice at this point however, his words are still smooth, but pointed just as the daggers that we all know so well. "Ahh, I am royal today? Well if you put it that way..." The words stay in the air, even while their sarcastic roots marched off into silence, the same silence that made a dwelling in the atmosphere while the music died off from being two galaxies away by now. "Well, I haven't showered today, so when we get back set up a nice hot water bath and then wash my clothes, and then polish my shoes, and then clean my room, and then cook my dinner..." The commands from a throne higher than my own continued out, each one being accompanied by the sarcastic smile he held, a glance over me, the sky and then ground and lastly a finger raised into the air counting off each new member of the list. "Do you think that's enough to keep you busy?" He added loosely to the already lost phrase; the smirk that had tagged along previously however, was replaced by a mere scowl after looking me over.

"Come on, stand up straight. We have to get you back home before anyone notices your absence." He let out once more, staring at me more like a lost child sitting on his ground waiting for a parent to arrive rather than the 17 year old man regretting getting caught by him. "I can stand up by myself, thank you." The words leave my throat roughly, just like the hands of mine that swat away Demitri's outstretched ones. Out powering the pounding in my head and general gravity, I manage to unplaster myself off of the cracked ground and parallel to Demitri himself, nearly matching in height. "I was planning on sleeping in this alley tonight, but I guess going back would be fun too. Are you gonna walk there, or do I need to carry you?"



(So sorry if this is horrible, I had to get it up because I haven't responded to this thread in almost a month- which I'm also really sorry about^^')