Whiskey Tasting and Duel Practice
Orpheus sat alone, apart from the rest of the men each thick in the most mundane conversations on finances, women, and whiskey. The persistent ache in his head from the night before was hardly dulled by the small samples of liquors poured out in mere sips at a time.
‘A whiskey tasting…’ Orpheus thought, ‘how dull to taste and not feel.’
A few small sips between conversations did nothing toward his ever stretching tolerance. This would not do.
Orpheus had shown his face as a curtesy toward the Wycliff family who had never stepped on the toes of the Langston house. It was rare a house stood so peaceful and generous amongst the ton, yet Orpheus resented their family, a family whose curse lingered much like his own. Yet Edmund still stood so composed, yearning for his lost family, his lost lover, his lost faith perhaps, yet he somehow still held a hope for a future Orpheus himself had long left behind. Orpheus was envious of his composition, to host, to hold those mundane conversations with an air of grace, to be deserving of his title through and through. Orpheus could only wish to be half the man he was.
So, he sat apart. Hoping that no one would notice him, hoping no one would go searching for him, hoping today he could be left alone. For once, Orpheus did not desire attention or fame or glory. He did not want the whispers of the ton nor the glances of the men whose loyalties and respects he sought to gain.
He simply wanted to be alone.
However, his father, of course, having forced the evenings activities, hardly left room for Orpheus to object to attending.
Yet, Orpheus, again, had not slept much. And despite his pleads with his father to allow him time apart, he was forced off to represent the Langston name once again. Forced to perform among deaf ears and drunken bastards. He could hardly stomach it all after everything that’s happened.
There were too many people pulling pieces of him from every direction. Too much lost. Too much left to lose.
He hardly wanted to spend what little time he might have with Aurelia amongst tipsy old men. He needed to find a way out before his past caught up to him, whether here, or with her.
As a servant passed with two bottles in hand, Orpheus quickly stood and took one of them, slipping a small coin purse into the man’s hand. Orpheus placed a finger over his lips and gave the boy a wink.
“Every hour, on the hour, a new one. I’ll pay you your hearts desire. Next time, a more mature bottle.” Orpheus spoke softly as to not notify others of his whereabouts in the back corners of the estate room.
The waiter hurried off, tossing the coin purse in his hand happily, and Orpheus slid back down the wall he stood from, a bottle now in hand.
‘Better.’ He thought to himself as his lips met the harsh liquid.
The dark rings around his eyes were far from subtle. Two nights without sleep, the stress and pain of his interactions with others, it had taken its toll. The whiskey did its part in numbing his mind. He felt a peace settle over him, a familiar buzz he knew all too well. He nestled back into his corner hoping to wait out the evening in a drunken solitude.
@Caticorn if you want finch ? whenever ur ready
