(no subject)

[athelstanthescribe]

The door vanishes for a moment, Athelstan lifting a curtain aside as he shuffles in from a firelit room.

He stumbles over his own feet as he enters the bar, then stops and blinks drunkenly at the room at large.

"Oh. Very well, then."

Comments

[witchfinder_general]

"Brother Athelstan?"

That is Father Harman, sitting by the fire preparing tomorrow's sermon, and looking up at Athelstan with some amusement.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Father Harman!" He brightens and makes his way over. "Good evening."

[witchfinder_general]

"I say," Father Harman says. "Did the mead turn out to be stronger than you thought?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"There was... a lot of it, and it was beer." He weaves a little, and sits down. (His monk's habit has reappeared.)

[witchfinder_general]

"Do you need to sober up, or can you just sleep it off, now you're here?" Father Harman asks, amused.

[lt_blade]

Sonya was reading by the fire when she saw Athelstan enter the room. His movement is all too familiar to her from the other men, but seeing him stubble only makes her sit up.

"Should I even ask?" She manages to keep her expression neutral, but intwardly she's torn between amusement and face palming.

[athelstanthescribe]

"...I said no more", he says, half-defensive, half-apologetic. "He wouldn't hear of it."

[lt_blade]

Sonya frowned. "What exactly did he give you?" It could've been ale, but it could've easily been something stronger.

Setting her book down, she stood up from the sofa and helped him take a seat on the sofa. "Bar, could we have some water please...and some toast."

If he was drunk, he wasn't going to have a fun time tomorrow.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Beer." Beat. "A... lot... of beer. And questions."

[lt_blade]

The mental urge to facepalm turned into a reality. Taking a seat by him, Sonya ran a hand over her face, sighing deeply. "Let me guess, he wanted answers as to the sort of town you lived by and the daily habits of the people living there.."

She wasn't a mind reader, but in this case she didn't have to be. What Athelstan just experienced was only a friendly way to interrogate someone, and not have them realize it.

[equal_of_any_man]

"You, my brother," Olivier smiles as he crosses to Athelstan, "would seem to be drunk."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Ragnar", he pronounces carefully, "does not like those in his house to go thirsty."

And also wanted to loosen Athelstan's tongue, but he hasn't realized that yet.

[equal_of_any_man]

"It would seem he kept your cup overflowing. Come, sit. Let me fetch you water. I fear you will be the worse for it when the morning comes."

[athelstanthescribe]

"More than I'm accustomed to." He sits obediently. "...far more."

[equal_of_any_man]

Olivier brings back water and a large plate of fries. "Here, eat. I have been told they are beneficial in such cases."

"It seems very generous of your capturer to share his wine so liberally?"

[gredya]

It's just Gredya today, no children.

And she must be picking up more and more human habits, because when she sees this she presses a hand to her forehead.

[athelstanthescribe]

She may be subjected to more talk than usual this time, as he wanders over.

"Good evening, Miss Gredya."

[gredya]

She stares at him. "Now you are drunk."

[athelstanthescribe]

"...yes", he admits.

[gredya]

This is just...

"Someone should eat you. Should have eat you, long time ago. Better for herd. Better for everyone."

...at this point, she's almost, almost, starting to feel a very maternal sort of frustration.

[onceaviking]

Eric watches him.
Amused.


{ooc: if I'm not too late.}

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan notices, and eyes him back.

"Eric."

[onceaviking]

"A wet night?"
Still amused.

The little monk clearly can't hold his drink.

[athelstanthescribe]

It's the first time he's ever drunk this much, to be fair.

"Yes. There was... beer."

[onceaviking]

"I can smell that."