smash_logs | It's a sticky contradiction, it's a thing you call creation...

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It's a sticky contradiction, it's a thing you call creation...

Who: In Soviet Russia, log posts to YOU. Because Volgin is chilling in here.
What: Drunken wandering
Where: Dormitory rooftop
When: The weekends of the 4th and 5th, and 11th and 12th
Warnings: Cursing and liquor, mostly. Someone is anxious. And possibly looking for relationship advice.

Volgin laughed to himself. Laughed. Balked at the cold, watching his hot breath come out in the largest of puffs from his powerful chest. Just laughed. He could smell the alcohol everywhere at this point (it felt like everywhere), and he had to count how many bottles it took for him to come down this low. They were arranged around his feet, like the executed. Just like the executed! He really needed it too, savoring this mental image, needed to drown his worries in the drink like a sack with a culled litter.

And, little did anyone know, he might have been trawling for help in the most awkward way. If someone had a good eye, if someone looked quite carefully, if they so dared to study this large figure minding his own business on the roof, they might have caught the tiniest of glimmers in his hand, something that was not a natural spark and crackle of his biological thunder.

Meanwhile, he would be swinging his massive feet over the ledge, tempting danger under the influence of the alcohol in his blood.

((Just specify a time, if you want to dare come out on the roof with his... "wonderful" company.))

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It was unlike Volgin to get... that drunk, unless something was wrong. Raikov knew the Colonel too well.

The smaller Russian peeped out from their balcony and looked around. As he was going to go back inside, he looked up and saw his lover, drunk, on the roof.

"... Yevgeny."

And indeed, if Raikov knew anyone terribly well...

Volgin was looking right down at the pretty little white head. And the scowling face attached to it. He was not laughing at every little thing anymore now. His palm clenched tighter around the small object.

"I'll be down soon!" He spoke in Russian, as per usual. "I need some air."

And the company of a pack.

"Are you sure you can make it down?" He asked. "I smell alcohol..."

They were Russian, after all.

Volgin made a motion, grinning, true to every stereotype made of his people.

"You want me to jump? I can jump."

The balcony below swayed a bit. Dangerously so, too, but Volgin was confident in himself. He had no fear of heights sober and no concept of heights intoxicated.

"Don't be an idiot." Because Yevgeny could be at times.

True dat. Because he was trying to gauge that fall already. Nevermind the snow might cushion the blow, according to his logic at this time. He was shifting still.

And, he had a better idea:

"You want to come up here with me instead?"

That was a much better idea. Sort of.

"How the hell did you get up there in the first place...?"

If he wasn't cooped up blasting music or making lots of noise, he was flying around in the sky. And ever since the quarrel he had with a certain penguin, stretching his wings under the sky was something he actually needed.

His otherwise somewhat decent day was spoiled when he realized he landed on a rooftop with a familiar face he didn't want to see.

Congratulations Volgin, you got the worst person to possibly talk about your thoughts.

Right now, Volgin was smoking. He was reasonably sober at this time, finding it easier to send the liquor down at nightfall. The vodka sat near him, awaiting its time in its clear, shapely bottles in the old messenger bag he had dragged around with him since his absence from Smash. Damn thing had been literally through Hell and back with him. Showed it too.

Now, the yellow bird was a familiar face. It wasn't that often that he met something that shocked him back. An admirable trait, really. Hard to forget.

Not to mention he trashed the apartment. With the damn Char... lizard. Thing. Dragon. The orangey one. Pissed Raikov off.

For now, the Zapdos was regarded with a grunt. And, of all things, he offered his current cigar without the giant looking back at him.

"Smoke?"

Alex blinked at the cigar before turning into his human form. The fact that the other had offered a cigar had thrown off the electric type; would someone offer something to their enemy?

"No thanks, got my own." He replied as he sat down on the roof, putting some distance between the other and himself as he looked over at Volgin with a confused look on his face.

"You alright?"

An enemy indeed, but so the saying went. Volgin returned the cigar to his mouth, giving the Pokemon a brief glance from the corner of his eye. He resumed looking out at the horizon, precariously near the edge.

"A question for you, bird." It was a rare moment he did not feel as belligerent as usual, but then again, throwing people (and not-quite) off was another quiet pleasure of his.

"You love? Have a special someone?"

Maybe Alex heard the smirk in his voice.

Alex was immediately reminded of what his supposed friend did to him during the winter holidays. His mood immediately turned sour at the thought.

"No." He replied, sounding extremely annoyed all of the sudden as he looked off to the distance. "Fuck that shit."

Every so often, Jon would wander about on the roof. He and Riwane had come up here once or twice to spend time with one another and it was a nice reminder of those times to be up here late at night, looking up at the stars.

Generally speaking he was either alone, or avoided the other folk who chose to wander about up here. However, considering Jon's sensitive nose could quite easily pick up the scent of alchohol, and pick it up in abundance? He thought better of keeping to himself this evening. Jon might not be known for his caring and concern for the Human Race at large, but he had no desire to see someone drunkenly stumble off the edge of a roof and paint the sidewalk below with their grey matter.

"Hey, steady there, old lad." he said, approaching from the side so as not to startle Volgin too much. "You may want to sit down. I hear falling from the third story roof can be more than a little painful."

"I'm fine." It was a harsh bark. Maybe Volgin had heard him coming, maybe he had been too absorbed in the ring hardly around his pinky, too small for his thicker fingers. He did not react terribly well. He also did not recognize this man either. The ring was pocketed.

A bottle of the vodka, something potent, had been downed. Half remained in another bottle at his side.

"You hearda' me, right?" He wiggled a gloved finger. His accent was heavier than ever, almost obscuringly so. "You oughta' be waiting for me to prove to you how sure I am of my balance before you go and push."

And, with a casual gesture of his hand, he stepped onto the ledge, scooping up his open drink and letting the cold wind that picked up ruffle his clothes. Three stories down, and he was merely side-eying it. He might have been opening his arms, teasing at gravity with a faux lean.

The alcohol almost tipped him over. The proud ex-colonel caught himself, working his clumsiness into a bow.

"Fine as ever. You look like you could use a smoke."

"Not a habit I've ever seen the appeal of, but if you're offering a swig of whatever's in the bottle, I'll not decline."

He could protest that he had no intention of pushing, however, it probably wouldn't do much good. He wasn't sure exactly HOW inebriated the man before him was, but it would probably be best to keep it simple.

Angelus, even in a human guise, felt little comfort in human dwellings. With Caim gone and quiet, there was a silence in her mind and soul that she had little felt in quite some time. It made her restless and restlessness led her to flying. And that's what she had been out doing, wings spread against the night sky. If Volgin had paid attention, he might have caught sight of the large red dragon again the moonlight.

When she came up to the rooftop of the dormitory though, it was in her human shape. She was still adjusting to it's limitations and switching back and forth from it to her normal shape. She came up to the roof for some measure of peace and instead found a somewhat familiar shape. Hn, wasn't he the man who smelt of ozone? And now of alcohol.

She huffed, speaking as she moved forward in that rough voice of hers. "Alcohol will only dampen your sparks."

Funny how life had changed. Volgin had grown accustomed to many things in his life, from the drone of ghostly war planes in the night to now flying mythical lizards of varying sizes making their passes over the school. The latter, of all things, he had regarded with less fear. Dragons cried, he found out, and they bled just as well.

This visitor might have caught him with his head tipped back, making his ode to the moon like a crying dog with a bottle to his mouth. He smacked his lips, slowly turning to face her before setting the now emptied bottle down. Indeed, the ozone smell would never leave him, even once the alcohol had passed.

Volgin had never seen this person before. His mind teetered a bit; wasn't sure if he knew the voice either. Foggy. Never knew with people here. "Why the interest, dear?"

"Boredom."

Well, it was the truth. With Caim locked up, Angelus had found college courses amusingly simple... in some regards. She couldn't help being impatient either, used to taking to the skies and doing whatever she and her partner damn well pleased. Now with Caim locked away, the dragon was loathe to leave for much more than simple flights. And she certainly had no reason to go torching random people either.

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It's a sticky contradiction, it's a thing you call creation...

The 5th, idk what time.

After midnight, likely. Someone's bed got too cold.

Giant teddy bear missing.

Well, you better go retrieve it.

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4th, sometime in the afternoon???

SURE.

EXCELLENT

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Let's say late evening of the 4th.

Sounds good!

Re: Sounds good!

11th perhaps at night, why not.

Why not, indeed.

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