Drunk on Rainwater [Open]

[Deleted]

Seven days after the Catastrophe. Shortly after nightfall, the sky is lit up gray with the clouds of a storm. The air is thick with humidity and the rain comes and goes. Typical weather for Western Europe.

People were already starting to accept this new reality they were forced into. Into this almost lawless world of a game. If they weren't outside the city killing monsters to get stronger, they were spending what money they could scrape together to drink the depression away. Niklas had seen people do awful things to each other in the short time he'd been here. He'd seen murders, riots, thefts, and rape. Even in a new world, with different rules of the world, people will still do terrible things to each other. He had managed to stay away from most of it being directed toward himself. Hiding in old buildings beyond the protected city limits, sleeping in the streets, and just running if need be. A week has gone by and things have settled down, but the atrocities could still happen.

Okay, he never actually saw any of that, and the only running was in his dreams. He picks up a lot of this from hearsay and his imagination. He didn't have much to do any more. There are no cars that needed repaired. Even if there were, thanks to this stupid world's system it would just blow up in his face or something. And all of his belongings... Everything he'd collected since returning home... if his house payment falls behind, they will take everything. Probably even scrap all of it...

He stumbled on the muddy, stony street. He was very wobbly, bottle of tasteless liquor in one hand and a large sack of clanging metal over his left shoulder. His spoils from ripping apart old machinery in the basements of abandoned buildings outside of the protection zone of Londin. His thoughts strayed back to what could be happening to his home right now. "ALL DAS ZEUG IST IMMER NOCH GUT! ES IST MEINS LASSEN SIE ALLEIN!" He shouted in his mother tongue. He was too drunk to think in English right now, so he defaulted to German.

He wanted to go home. He missed food that tasted like food. He missed booze that stung the tongue and tasted like real alcohol. He missed his belongings and his ability to put things together without needing some arbitrary number to be high enough to do so. But he did like one thing. The gun.

He took one long swig to empty the bottle of it's liquid contents, whatever it was. He didn't care, it all tasted the same to him. He threw the bottle to the ground and pulled out a pistol, shooting toward a rat that had caught his drunken eye. A loud bang would echo through the rain and his target would run away. Of course he missed. It would have been a miracle to hit it while this messed up.

He put the gun back in it's holster on his waist, then put his hands up to his face as if he still had the bottle in his hand. All he got when he opened his mouth was the taste of rain on his tongue. It still tasted like the booze, so he didn't care.

The road was turning ahead, he thought. The weight of his haul was getting the better of him. He twisted around and fell over onto the wet rocky street, covered in weeds and moss. Perhaps he'll sleep here tonight. He didn't care any more. He let his eyes close.

[Sophia]

Ah, rain. Emilia enjoyed watching stormy weather outside the windows of her home. Whether it was snow or rain, it made her felt all the more cozy in the confines of her apartment. She would brew up a cup of tea, with the above average amount of sugar cubes, sat down and watched those flakes of snow or droplets of rain shower over her neighborhood. Sometimes her little son would join her, and so would his toys. He would play with them while in the living room with his mother. And when he's tuckered out, or bored of his toys, he would climb onto he's mother's lap, and then she would cradle his little body in her arms as they watched the poor weather outside together. 

Sadly, Emilia didn't have the luxury at the moment. Not only was she not with her son, but was also outside, caught in the rain. Lacking an umbrella, she was forced to use her shield as her own portable awning. There was an audible sound of the rain droplets sprinkling against her shield and plate mail armor. She hoped to god that they didn't end up rusting by the time she got to the inn. 

As quickly as her set of armor would allow her, she raced through the streets of London. Anxious to get out of the rain. But then, when she turned a corner, something had brushed against her leg in mid-stride, causing to lose her balance and collide with the cobblestone. "Oof!" She winced in pain as her forehead met with the ground. Her bright blue eyes wondered over to what she had toppled over, and to her surprise, it was young lad sprawled out on the ground. "Oh my.. I'm terribly sorry!" she cried out as apologetically as she could to the young man, as she crawled closer to him. 

"Are, you OK? Are you hurt anywhere?" she said, in a worried tone. 

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Word Count: 323
Tags: @dreme

[Deleted]

How long he had been laying there soaked on the ground, he could only guess. The rain water had seeped into every crevasse of his skin, through every article of clothing he wore, and even soaked his skin enough to start his hands to prune. Laying there drifting between sleep and consciousness. Is it possible for Adventurers to get sick in this world? On top of everything else, he would probably have to contend with a cold by this time tomorrow, depending on where ever he ended up tomorrow. He would need to bank all the stuff he scavenged later and find a place to stay dry, but the ground was still so inviting to the drunken man. The sound of the rain against his wet clothing and against the rocky street soothed him back to sleep. He would stay asleep until he was forcefully awoken by something striking the side of his head, like he was hit by an aluminium club.

The sharp pain reeled in his head, forcing him to turn onto his back and heave forward, clutching his head. "Auaaa! Autsch! Scheiss scheiss scheiss scheiss scheiss... eEEeeee..." He stopped his complaining to open his eyes. It was still dark out. His vision still seemed blurred from his drinking. There was a sharp pain on the left side of his head. Being struck like that didn't help his drunkenness. He placed his hand to his head and felt where the pain was. There was a wound there now, he could feel the blood. It was thicker than the water pouring on him. He wiped some of it off and let it fall onto the watery ground. So now he would have not only a hangover to contend with, but also a head wound now.

He looked over to his left to see the figure of someone on the ground with him. It was difficult to make out their facial features or even what gender they were with how dark it was. All he could see was that they were wearing armour against the dull gray light that could manage to pierce the clouds from the moon. They said something to him, it was in English and his mind was still fuzzy. He brought his fingers up to his forehead to force his mind to switch to English so he could understand her. This was so much easier when he wasn't drunk... He didn't catch what she said at first, but he understood what she said next.

"I-I'll live. Damn, vat did you do? Hell, it vas my fault. I shouldn't have been laying in ze road." The voice coming out of his throat had a sort of gruffness to it. It gave the air about him that in actuality he was much older than his character would betray. But his diction, it didn't used to always be so stereotypically German. While he was living in Northern England in the 90s, his English was much better. He could say all the double-Us and THes and everything else without issue. Then he returned to Germany and became complacent in his home country, only needing to use English sparingly. Now that he's essentially back in England, he's got to get over the habits again. Not that that mattered much while he was drunk. He wondered if the woman could smell the alcohol on him? Oh, that was a stupid question. Of course she couldn't. It had no taste. That meant no smell either, right?

Now he wanted a cigarette. And he hadn't smoked since he was a teenager. Is there even tobacco in this world?

He tried to put the pieces together. His useless body must have tripped her. An inconvenience was all he was now. He'd prefer to just lie down and die at that moment, but even that wasn't an escape from this world. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I'll... escort you to ze closesst inn! It is ze least I can do." His words were slurred. If she couldn't smell the alcohol on him, she could probably tell from the way he spoke that he was drunk as hell. Clothes sopping wet, pasted to his skin and sweat, leaning forward he tried to stand himself up, but his arms slipped and sent him head-first back into the stony road. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out, just a minor setback. He forced himself up onto his knees and carefully lifted his right leg so his foot connected with the ground, then stood up on that one foot. It didn't take long for him to immediately lose his balance, sending him walking right into a wall. He caught himself before his head hit the wall.

The though struck his head, his spoils! Everything he had gone to collect in the outer limits of the city, where was the bag? With his eyes blurred and with how dark it was, he couldn't see much. "Is zere a sack somevere? Should be full of metal parts. I'm sorry for all of zis. I'm a God damned mess. I can't see much. Too dark. I need that sack..." He hoped she was still there and hadn't run off already. If he was her, he probably would have run.

Sophia