Addict (SetoSolace)

Fourteen: "Good"

;-;

Here comes the crash.

RIP Seto.

;-;

No, it's not over yet.

But we're close.

En-juh-hoy, my be-ay-yoo-tiful Rulers.

Addict

Ch 14: "Good"

Eventually, I get up and walk home.

I stumble a lot, still weak from the spell (and apparently a Dark magic spell, too- I really am weak), and my head injury makes it hard to keep my balance, but I refuse to heal myself. I deserve this. After everything I've done, I deserve this.

The house feels cold when I enter it, which is usually something I appreciate, but today it feels uncomfortable and condemning. I consider summoning a cat or something to keep me company, but I honestly just can't gather the energy for that right now. Can't gather the energy for anything right now.

I plop down in an odd position on the couch, and then I promptly fall asleep.

☼☼☼

I wake up in the middle of the night. Stars are shining brightly. Every once in a while, a wolf's howl rings through the air.

I sigh as I stand up, and then I groan in pain as my head injury reminds me of its presence. Grand. But I'm still not in the mood to heal, so I wave my hand and I walk downstairs, clinging to the railing all the way.

For the rest of the night and for some of the morning, as well, I mindlessly prepare potion after potion, and I enchant more armor than I could ever possibly need. Time passes more slowly, and yet also more quickly, than it ever has before, and I find myself wondering what I'm still doing here.

What was my purpose before I met Brice and got involved in the whole war thing? I suppose it was simply to have fun, and to spite my old friends. But I didn't have fun, not really; and I never spited them, I only proved them right.

I imagine they've heard, by now, of my official exile. It didn't affect me much, since I never went inside the City boundaries anyways, but I feel like, from now on, I will be kinder to passersby; just for politeness' sake. Though, admittedly, I would have much preferred a year's worth of torture followed by certain death.

Regardless, my old friends have surely heard by now, and now they have all the proof they have ever needed that I am nothing but bad.

I fall asleep with my head resting on the table next to the potion brewer.

☼☼☼

The next time I awaken, it's sometime in the afternoon, and I've nothing to tell me how much time has really passed, other than my very, very over-spun potions. I consider taking them out and starting a new batch, but in the end I just fall asleep again, lulled by the monotone whirring of their endless spin.

☼☼☼

It is, I believe, day number three since Brice's leave when I finally have my proper, long-awaited breakdown.

I'm sitting cross-legged on the ground in the middle of the basement. It's dark, because I've never bothered to turn on any lights, and because I think the dark must suit me, anyhow. I've gotten the feeling that the Dark magic misses me, misses my constant casting, but I still can't bring myself to cast any spell other than the one used to access the basement. I figure the darkness I surround myself with physically may be enough to apologize to the Dark for my absence. I do not know how long this absence will last.