The bourbon was reputedly the best in Unova, and a personal gift from the brewer. Certainly, it was the finest stock in Iccurius City. Though, Cole reflected as he took another swig, he probably should have been drinking it from a glass and not straight from the bottle. The hard liquor burned his throat as he gulped it down. He wasn’t used to the hard stock, never having drank much more than a little beer and wine here and there. But whatever, all the better to get drunk with.
“Our efforts to keep the world sober,” Cole chuckled. “Yeah right!”
He idly kicked the two empty bottles of Guinness over the edge of the Tower before taking another drink of bourbon. Already his head was starting to buzz. He capped the bottle and stuck it in his duster pocket. He’d save the rest for later. Slowly he turned and glanced at Prometheus.
“What do you want?”
The Charizard sighed. “The feast has started. And here you are, getting drunk. Honestly Cole, what’s wrong with you?”
The Firebrand huffed out a sigh and sat on the edge of the Tower, dangling his legs off the flat top. “I’m just not in a celebratory mood.”
Prometheus put a claw on Cole’s shoulder. “Imagine if Athena or Maeve saw you like this. You know get seditious when you get drunk. So why do this?”
“Maybe I feel a little maudlin, all right?” growled Cole. “I’m just not feeling it, brother.” He reached for the bottle of bourbon again. “Here, have some.”
“You know I don’t drink. Messes up my fire sac.”
“Whatever. Can’t say I didn’t offer.”
They sat in silence for a time, watching the sun dip over the distant mountain peaks. Cole drew his knees up to his chest and watched as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. As he blinked the colored spots out of his eyes, he growled low in his throat. “Arceus, this whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Maybe you should stay away from the harder spirits,” Prometheus said, rolling his eyes.
“Not that. This. This whole feast thing. Most of the original Journeymen are… gone. And they aren’t coming back. It would be something different if they were dead, but no, these bastards just up and left us, sometimes without so much as a goodbye.” The Firebrand shook his head. Even his friend and mentor, Raj, the league’s founder had left for bigger and better things.
Cole drew another bottle of beer from his coat. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” his Charizard snapped, and tried to snatch it away. Cole held it out of his reach.
“You think I’m going to drink cheap crap like this?” He shook the bottle in front of Prometheus’s nose. This was no prime stock like the bourbon. He had picked it up in a liquor store in Driftveil with a fake ID and a little street cred. He tried twisting it open, but it needed a bottle opener, which he did not have. With very little ceremony, Cole smashed the neck of the bottle on the stone roof of the Tower and dumped the contents to the ground far below.
“An ablution to absent friends, wherever the hell they are!” he shouted. “And you’re lucky I spent seven bucks on you, you bastards!” With a grunt, Cole hurled the broken bottle out into the desert where he hoped it shattered into a million little pieces.
Then he got up, swilled a little mouthwash to clear the taste of alcohol from his palette and staggered down the stairs. Prometheus was always just a step behind, ready to catch him if he fell. Athena met them outside the doors of the feast hall, and Cole put her on his shoulder with a smile.
“Well hey there, Fuzzball. How you doing?”
“You’ve been drinking again,” was all Athena said. “You know I don’t like it when you drink.”
Cole sighed. “I know. I just… It’s all… what else am I supposed to do, hon? It numbs the pain.”
The Victini glanced at Prometheus. “We’ll take him flying later.”
“The cold air will do him some good,” the Charizard agreed. “And maybe a three hundred foot drop too.”
Cole pushed open the doors to the large hall and glared around the room. A few old friends, some new faces. With a grunt, he walked to his chair, a place of honor near the head of the table. He paused, and realized every eye in the room was on him.
“What?” he snapped.
If they were expecting a rousing Firebrand speech, they weren’t getting one. He sat down with a sigh, poured himself half a glass of iced tea, and then added some more bourbon to it.
Whatever. He didn’t care if everyone saw.
He picked idly at his salad as the chatter buzzed around him. Why did he agree to come to this train wreck again? Sometimes it was better just to leave old wounds closed. He couldn’t get up and leave again, not so soon after sitting down. Discreetly, he fed his headphones up through his shirt and pushed them into his ears. Then, he sat back and allowed the piano and brass concerto to wash over him, all the while nodding politely as one of the new leaders related some anecdote.
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So the best part about this exercise is that anyone who wants to RP... can! You don't have to be a fic writer, or write something this long. If you've got something in mind, just put it out here in character. This is supposed to be a fun thing (despite Cole's current mood), and as close to fireworks as we can get via the internet.
So for the next week, RP your hearts out so long as you stay within the parameters of a dinner at the Tower. I'll post a few more times this week, to keep things on track if necessary.
Then, come the seventh, I'll write an RP wrap up, compile all the RPs and make it one big thing. So there you have it. You've got a week to get the Firebrand sober and smiling.
HAVE FUN!