:s

:s :s :s

...

Do you think I was too hard on him?

[Edit] *trudges to the pub for a wee nip, feeling generally dissatisfied with everything and everyone*

*sits in the living room and concentrates on another ( much-emended list* )

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

*tries to think about this calmly on his way over to Turco and Fin's; fails miserably*

That fuckwit. He's clearly addled. All the more reason to put him out of his misery, really. I bet he'd even help. What the Mandos was she thinking?! I could kill her. Still might.

*pounds* *knocks*

[Edit] *follows ( Read more... )

( To Fëanor )

So. Right. There isn't going to be a funeral. Or a memorial service. Or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I mean, really-what's the point? We're not burying anything, and I can do without a town full of people looking somber and pretending they like me for a day so they can eat all my food and drink all my booze. Besides, she'll ( Read more... )

*takes Airekáno back to Fin's and convinces her to look after him for a few hours*

*heads to the pub and proceeds to get properly sloshed*

*eventually staggers home and continues to drink, decorating the living room with shattered glassware when he decides to use it for an impromptu (albeit one-sided) game of catch with the wall*

*lies out back by the pool*

*procrastinates*

( Drinking helps me think. )

*gets word that Mahtan is setting up a meeting with Anairë and Gimilkhâd*

*generously offers his house as the meeting site so his wife can see how smoothly things are running without her*

*even if they aren't really*

*and his days are spent drinking and watching old Transformers reruns*

*sends word to Fëanor asking him to meet him at the pub*

[Edit] *sneaks returns home after his few days' absence and heads straight for his study*

*eyes the growing mountains of paper on his desk with something like intense fear disgust*

*dreads*