Tomorrow is a blur for everyone but not for her. She knows too well that her future is just a repeat of her past. Bloody. Cold. Bruised. That will be her. Will she risk to have that tomorrow again just to treasure the blink of happiness before it w...
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I told him that I could remember everything in the past... that he was a scholar. But I couldn't tell him that I fell in love with him, and he left me pregnant... and I died young.
~ Memory Journal: The Last page 10 ~
• • • ○ ○ ○ ♡ ○ ○ ○ • • •
Her joints feel like unoiled rusty gears. Movement is a hustle. Pain prickles her body and her head seems to spin with the ache of missing them.
Soul drain.
If only she doesn't have this kind of soul bound, keeping herself away from them should have been easy. Going through her life should have been a piece of cake, but... no. Apparently, the goddesses of Fate never fail to ensure to fuck up her life... with her past, and now with her present. Good thing, this time, she is able to live a longer life. Unlike her past selves, she has lived rather peacefully. However with pain, it won't be a surprise if time is nearing.
"Another drink please." Immediately, the female bartender hands her third or fourth concoction of the night. She doesn't know how much she had drunk anymore. She shrugs and just gratefully smiles as she sways the spherical ice along the clear liquid in the glass.
Alcohol can somehow mute the ache. It is a blessing. It temporarily remedies her problem. Unlike those god-forsaken soul suppressants, alcohol is a welcome addiction. There's no added danger on her system, at least no coughing out of blood. It even sometimes conveniently blurs out her horrors.
Sometimes.
She purses her lips as a needle like pain pricks the tips of her fingers. Her skin sizzles a bit. Her bones somehow crackle. She doesn't flinch though. Its tame compared to the feeling of dying.
Alcohol surely helps.
"Excuse me?" A deep baritone voice permits through her ears and soothingly simmers on her head. His English is quite sexy to hear. She only hums, thinking that she is only imagining the gentle timbre of the tone. It's curiously so familiar. Perhaps her mind is conjuring the very wish of her soul.
Is she already drunk?
The seat beside her creeks a little with the man's weight and then a shadow looms over her, blocking the soft blue light at the side of the bar.
She pouts. She should detest people disrupting her alone time. However, instead of being irritated, she finds it welcoming.
She is sure drunk already.
"Sadness can be devouring." The man mutters.
Dal-rae's gaze shots towards the man. For a second, a bit of dizziness makes her sway from focus, then... she stills. Chills run down her spine the moment their eyes meet. It's not because he has one of the most dazzling pair of eyes. They squint but not in anger. Instead, they are tender. And she knows that tenderness. Those are the same to what she had always gaze upon the 4K images on her phone.
