"Oh, got one!" Kratzer said with a mischevious smirk. "How did you lose your virginity?"
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Out of all the people here," Edward suddenly blurted, his drunken mind quickly hopping to the first embarrassing question that came to mind, "who would you want to be in bed with the most? Like naked-in-bed, not cuddling in warm pajamas-"
He was interrupted by Schadel spitting her drink out right into his face.
"Wilshon." I said immediately, then I leaned back in my seat, and stroked my chin ponderously.
"Vir-gin-ity." I said the word slowly, as though I had forgotten how it was pronounced. "I had one of those, once, didn't I?"
'Twas a red-haired American girl, abssholutely sstunning, delightfully blashphemousss senshe of humour. Terrifying, at timesh. She met me in my early twentiesh, freshly desherted, on my way to th' English Channel. We travelled through France together, for a while, got along well. In time, she figured out I wash a deserter, an' I told her, I told her, 'You tell a soul, and I'll kill you.' And before I could take another breath, her laughter wash in th' air, her knife wash at my throat, and her lipsh were upon mine. 'Thassa 'dorable,' said she. Or sssomething, like that." I shrugged.
"I thought she was completely off'er rocker. And so she wash. Sscared the daylightsh out a me, but I shtill went for it. Onshe the shock wore off. Whish wasss...lessh time, than it should ha' been."
I settled into a pause, and squinted at the lines in the floor.
"Honeshtly, I'm surprised she went fer it. I may be a catch, now, but at the time, I wash an impulsssive, dishtant, bad-tempered jackass with no pointsh in my favour but good looksh. She must ha' been awfully lonely. Or bored.
But," I whistled reverently, "What a woman."
Last edited by SirenCymbaline on Thu Jan 03, 2019 3:46 am, edited 4 times in total.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
Kratzer listened, then chuckled. "It's funny, shometimesh, how ve have similar, uh, tashtesh. She soundsh like Auryon. Shounds like a fun time."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Wilson grinned, pleased with herself for being chosen, and sent Boris a little wink he probably didn't notice, seeing as he launched right into his story seconds after.
"What a woman indeed," she said with a chuckle. "Now, uh, how about you spin the bottle to see who goes next!"
Damascus listened the best he could, head tilted as if it would help him concentrate better. His eyes glittered feverishly, with equal parts intoxication and interest.
"Huhh." He only commented with a soft grunt, having nothing else to say.
It took a minute for Edward to notice that the bottle was pointing at him. It took another for him to come up with what he wanted to do; his earlier conviction to do only dares was forgotten thanks to the whirlwind of stories he had heard in the previous turns.
"Oh!" Damascus perked up when he realized that the game was moving on.
He looked over at Edward, his eyes wide in his haste to be the one to ask a truth this time.
Ah, right! There was a perfectly good truth that Edward himself had presented. Unfortunately, he didn't think the question through before speaking, and it came out as a muddled mess.
"Doo, do tha thaa oneh ya ashked Borish! The... cuddlehn. Or wash it, nakedneshh? Somethin' wi' bedss." He slurred, waving his hand around unhelpfully.
“Itsh a good think I’m drunk,” James muttered at Damascus’s question. He looked over at Edward and repeated Damascus in an attempt to help. “Ya asked Boris who he’d wanna be in bef wif the most.” He half rolled his eyes and sunk further into his chair. “Yer all... horny,” he mumbled.
Despite not being nearly as drunk as any of her brothers, Schadel couldn't help but laugh at Damascus's pun - she had always been a sucker for jokes, cheesy as that one was. Beside her, Edward was struggling to come up with a good response. He surveyed everyone present with a critical, drunken gaze, trying to determine which one of them would be the best to get in bed with.
Schadel was out of the question - she wasn't his type, and she was gay, anyways. Then there was Wilson, who he barely knew. James wasn't his type. Engel was his friend now, but it was still hard to get over him having been a Nazi, no matter what the circumstances might have been. That left Boris and Damascus. He looked both of them. Both would have their benefits, but Damascus did seem to have the added advantage of no questionable morals...
He raised a finger and pointed at Damascus. "I'd get in bed with you," he declared, taken an unsteady swig of his drink. As the drink burned his throat - he had drunk it far too fast, and some had gone down the wrong way - a memory came to him. Sneaking out on his 21st birthday with a bottle in one hand and a pack of cigarettes of the other, and meeting another soldier - beautiful black hair, freckles across his face and eyes that captured the stars above - who stole his heart the moment he laid his eyes upon him.
"I haven't lost my virginity yet," Edward added, thinking back to the question Engel had given Boris during the previous round. "But Nicholas Drew was the first person to steal my heart, and would've probably taken that too if I hadn't gone and died."
Damascus blinked, surprised but flattered, and took a look behind him, just to make sure that Edward wasn't pointing at someone behind him. A dopey grin spread across his face.
"Awe, thanksssh, Edward." He cooed trippingly as Edward took a swig of his drink.
As he listened to his brother's unprecedented confession, his smile turned into a sympathetic pout, and he rested his head on the table.
"'M... I 'm very shorry ye died." He mumbled sadly.
Huh. I'd had Edward pegged as a scholar of Venus. My reading could not have been further off.
I nodded sadly, in tune with Damascus' sympathies.
"Me too. To be taken, so young...
Tell us more! About yourr, your Nicholissh. He sounnds, delightful."
Oh. In hindsight, that question may have been inappropriately timed. And innapropriate. The enticing prospect of hearing about my brother's romantic adventures was just too overpowering for my now demolished sense of propriety to even bother lifting its eyelids for.
Oh, well. Edward probably wanted to talk about him, anyway.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
