(no subject)

[closerift]

" this is cecily trevelyan of the inquisition.
i cannot be reached at the moment, but if you leave your information i will reply quick as i can. "

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[closerift]

Good. [ The resolve is encouraging and she trusts Sharon enough to let it go. ] You know I feel the same way.

[ Even the so-called nice ones. You can't trust any of them. ]

Careful. [ Cecily advises after the other woman downs her drink, quirking an almost-amused brow. ] You don't want to go too fast.

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[unitas]

[ It's comforting to know Cecily feels the same, especially as she too often feels alone with her immense distrust of the deities. So many are amicable with them, and it pricks at something dark deep inside of her, breeds a new type of dislike for her fellow Door refugees.

The advice almost gets her to protest, but then she looks to the bottle. She didn't think she'd been drinking so much, but, when she's emotional, she often loses track until well after her limit has been reached. As is, she may regret this in the morning. She burps, and she can taste the strange, sweet mix of alcohol and stomach acid. She's definitely going to regret this in the morning. ]

I didn't really think I was, but... [ She knows she was. She smiles somewhat sheepishly. ] You're probably right. I'll probably wake up in the river if I keep drinking like this.

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[closerift]

I wouldn't let that happen. [ Cecily replies, amused, more than a little intoxicated herself. ] So long as I didn't slip into the river first, that is.

[ Look at these two, responsible, adult women. Amazing. ]

Shall we try and stumble our way home together, then? [ The Inquisitor asks, grinning. ]

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[unitas]

I would gallantly rescue you. [ And by gallantly, she means drunkenly. And by rescue, she means splash around uselessly.

At the question, she nods. ] Only if we avoid the river. I really don't want to test our swimming skills.

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[closerift]

My hero. [ She laughs, rising to her feet with only a little sway. ] We'll work to avoid the river, then. I think we've got enough on our plates, trying to find our way back home like this.

[ She remembers how to get there. Mostly. Probably. ]