Menelien felt something pick her up for a moment, speak to her, then put her carefully back down. She ignored it until the bright lights forced her to open her eyes. She sat up, brushing the glass from broken plates off of her shirt. Her head felt like a huge hand was squeezing it till her brains squelched, then letting go. Squeezing, then letting go. The pain was unimaginable, and, as she sat up and looked around, so were the things she was seeing… 5 Arafangwens and 7 Firondoiels were apparently arguing with 8 Mithadans while a few dragons hung off of the ceiling nearby, and the music was Lose Yourself… she shook herself. There were only one Arafangwen and one Firondoiel and one Mithadan, and, of course, no dragon, and there was a waltz playing. (But that was all in theory… she knew it was true, just couldn’t see it.) She blundered up, ran into a bathroom, retched, and came back out, feeling a little better. Everything had now subsided to a double image. And- she rubbed her eyes- the dragon was still there. Promising to herself to never drink again, or at least until her headache got better, she walked (or rather- walked, fell, got up, swaggered, shook, walked, fell, got up…) towards her table, hoping to find somebody there.
__________________
"Glue... very powerful stuff."
|