Unfortunate Aftereffects -- Castle Oblivion [COMPLETE]
Pride was a controversial subject.
For one, what was it exactly? Was it a necessity to life in all aspects, and that without it one would be too shamed to continue living their lives in this heavenly hellhole? Or was it just some type of placebo that people believe they needed to bring false hope into themselves?
To Axel, Pride was more of a luxury than anything else. And if given the chance he would have given an elaborate reason that supported all factors of his choosing. Yet instead of recalling it with a sharp mind, the back of his head was hazed over almost completely, blinded from anything thoughtfully engaging around him.
Ever since he left Kefka in Traverse and reluctantly teleported back to Castle Oblivion after nearly falling into the fountain, the redhead was slumped exhaustedly onto one of the walls; his breaths coming in short gasps as he tried to regain whatever vision he could interpret into those blurred green hues. Yet as close as it seemed like it the man didn’t fall from his stance. With his held up high as far as he could muster, Axel continued along the halls.
Trudging along trying not to trip over his feet, he finally made it to the Kitchen after what seemed like a good hour. His destination was predictable, though maybe not the brightest choice when his head was spinning constantly. But drunk people usually didn’t think too much of the consequences of their actions.
But instead of the light scent of cinnamon or the texture of the fridge handle as he held onto it for dear life, Axel paid no other attention to anything else in the room, deciding to just lean against the cooling object to try and regain whatever composure he had saved from the abundant alcohol.
Though in all truths, Pride never meant much to a drunk man in the first place.
For one, what was it exactly? Was it a necessity to life in all aspects, and that without it one would be too shamed to continue living their lives in this heavenly hellhole? Or was it just some type of placebo that people believe they needed to bring false hope into themselves?
To Axel, Pride was more of a luxury than anything else. And if given the chance he would have given an elaborate reason that supported all factors of his choosing. Yet instead of recalling it with a sharp mind, the back of his head was hazed over almost completely, blinded from anything thoughtfully engaging around him.
Ever since he left Kefka in Traverse and reluctantly teleported back to Castle Oblivion after nearly falling into the fountain, the redhead was slumped exhaustedly onto one of the walls; his breaths coming in short gasps as he tried to regain whatever vision he could interpret into those blurred green hues. Yet as close as it seemed like it the man didn’t fall from his stance. With his held up high as far as he could muster, Axel continued along the halls.
Trudging along trying not to trip over his feet, he finally made it to the Kitchen after what seemed like a good hour. His destination was predictable, though maybe not the brightest choice when his head was spinning constantly. But drunk people usually didn’t think too much of the consequences of their actions.
But instead of the light scent of cinnamon or the texture of the fridge handle as he held onto it for dear life, Axel paid no other attention to anything else in the room, deciding to just lean against the cooling object to try and regain whatever composure he had saved from the abundant alcohol.
Though in all truths, Pride never meant much to a drunk man in the first place.