smash_logs | 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.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

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

Let's say late evening of the 4th.

Sounds good!

Re: Sounds good!