Losing Touch



Date: August 9, 2010
Location: The Bar, Eastern Weyr
Synopsis: Jaya is slipping. She also realizes she's an alcoholic.
Rating: PG-13
Logger: Jaya

This Weyr has gone and made her insane. That has to be it.

Jaya nearly smashed the decanter of wine against the wall in her frustration. Of course she wouldn't. Such things costed marks she didn't have. So, instead, she muttered curses that would make even a bronzerider blush and threw herself into one of the now empty chairs after hours.

She hadn't meant to tell him that. Him - Zen. The wine, everything, had gone to her head. All these turns, she had been meticulous in being careful in who she talked with. Funny how a charming smile and heady wine can change that.

She looked towards the abandoned decanter now, her look wanting. It was their fault. All of their faults. Max, Indira, Randi, Leron, Ahnika…. their names came and went, people to pin the blame on for her defenses rattling within. The darkness was always beckoning, but now things were getting complicated.

And now she's gone and made things worse.

Perhaps Zen could be trusted. Perhaps he really has no connection to Vaput. She'd be fucked sideways to next turn if he did. It was like she had practically ran stark naked through the Bitran renegade's territory with that little 'deal' stunt she had pulled. A put-together Jaya wouldn't have done that. A put-together Jaya would have appreciated him not prying into her business and left it at that. Wine and curiosity make a dangerous combination.

Sitting there, Jaya could almost feel the cool sharp blade of Vaputero's knife against her face. She could feel the slice of pain that meets her, his laughter as she struggled… the promises of pain and death for past actions. Max was right. She was no saint.

Another look given to the decanter. Thoughts and memories were rushing back in. Her buffer was missing, replaced by the brown eyes of a stablehand that had boldly refused to stop his quest of digging into her protected soul. She will get him back for that - for making her blush, for making her feel things….

The bar owner suddenly gets to her feet. Eyes on the half-filled decanter, heavy steps drag her slowly towards it like a bee to honey. Once she could reach out to it, she does. It would be real easy. Really, really easy….

Her jaw tightens and she forces her steps to turn and bring the decanter behind the counter. It gets stored with force. Once it's out of sight, some semblance of relief washes over her despite the oncoming dark memories. She wasn't going to let it run her life tonite. She wasn't going to drink herself into another oblivion.

Determined steps now take her into her back-quarters, her jaw tightened against the rush of memories hitting her like a ton bricks. It was time to be stronger. Time to quit drinking so much.

Or, at least try to.

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