𝗺𝐢𝐳𝐩𝐚𝐡. (n.) the deep emotional bond between people, especially those separated by distance or death.
❝ after all those years, we were here, together. and i wanted to stay in this moment forever. ❞
in which a wanderer finds love with a boy f...
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I HAD to say, when elves managed to get drunk—they really got drunk.
Already, three elves, including Aithion, had come up to me, slurring and surprisingly unsteady for beings of "gracefulness and light."
Yep. Really feeling it.
We were at an after-party of sorts for Aragorn's coronation in Minas Tirith. The celebration was amazing, with everyone there and congratulating the new King and Queen—which, I imagined, would be a tiring for them. But it was still one of the most proud times of my life, especially when Aragorn named Faramir prince of Ithilien and, along with the Prince Aradhil of Dol Amoth, the chief commanders to the king.
Now, at the post-celebration, everyone was partying and intoxicated/on their way to getting intoxicated.
I, however, wasn't drunk. Yet.
The few drinks I had sloshed down were enough to make my head buzz a bit, but I was determined to not do anything stupid tonight. The last time that happened, I was with Raidyn and it turned out...interesting.
Anyway—I was currently in the Hall, where candles were lit and the atmosphere was loud and warm. All around me people were drinking, talking and laughing loudly, or singing. I could see Aithion stumbling around, a hand over the shoulder of a long-suffering Kai, who I had seen a few minutes ago in an intense drinking contest. Somehow, she still seemed to be completely sober.
I grinned slightly to myself, trying to make my way through the crowd to find Aragorn or my siblings or...yeah, Faramir. But really any familiar faces that weren't drunk off their butt (I'm looking at you, Aithion.)
Then I felt my shoulder being tapped, and turned around to see a so-so drunk Raidyn. He was wearing just a tunic, pants, and boots, his cloak and visible weapons gone. Even though he wasn't completely drunk, I was surprised—usually he was better at staying sober.
A smirk played at his lips as I looked him over. "Like what you see?" he asked lowly.
Of course. Rai was a flirty drunk, as I had witnessed only once before. The problem was that I had to admit—he was rakishly handsome. Unfortunately, he also knew it.
I rolled my eyes, even as a small grin tugged on my lips, and brought him over to a bench, which we plopped down on.
"So, Y/N." His eyes seemed to clear for a few moments, the cloud of intoxication fading slightly. "What are you going to do now?"
