The mare, Delinne, takes in my words and seems to be mulling them over. Then, it appears that she seems a little concerned - about me? Why would she be concerned about me? Oh, the sleepy drunk look. Yeah sometimes horses got worried about that. It's nothing really, but she clearly doesn't know that. She starts to explain to me what her companion Dezba looks like. Big cat, black with markings and scars. Sounds a little like me, except, I'm not a big cat.. and I'm not black.. Well, good try. I don't have fangs either.. that would be both creepy and TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME.

I'm brought from my thoughts of fanged glory when Delinne comments on Damaris, complimenting the little pup. A warm smile spreads across my face, distinctly joyful - more than a drunk grin. Damaris is my pride and joy, and I enjoy watching her grow day by day. I am pleased that Delinne likes her name - after all, I picked it out myself. But I don't say anything, and Delinne takes the chance to offer to sober me up. Damn woman, don't spoil the moment! I'm quite happy being drunk. But I suppose she wouldn't know that. But then - doesn't everyone enjoy being drunk? It's a pretty nice way to be. Minus the hangovers. Now that my mind is on hangovers, I notice again my headache. It helps to be distracted, you don't notice the physical symptoms quite as much. Except now that I'm not distracted anymore. Of course. Good job Rosti.

Head pounding, I stare at the two apparently happy creatures, face keeping my secret pain and sudden grumpiness hidden. From the darkness emerges a panther, and Delinne happily introduces the panther and Damaris. Dezba, Delinne, Damaris... the alliteration is almost enough to distract me from the dead deer being dragged in the panther's mouth. Huh. That's... intimidating. That's the emotion I'm going for. Damaris is not intimidated at all. Instead she goes up to the panther and sits two feet away, wagging her tail and whining up at the adult panther, wanting a bite of the deer. She hasn't eaten in a little while, it doesn't surprise me that she's hungry. In my mind I tell her to mind her manners, and I hope that she understands the sentiment I try to communicate. Our mindspeak is not developed and I'm not always good at sending out emotions. I mutter an explanation for Damaris's behavior. "She won't take any without permission, but her mind is on food. And friends. She likes it when we make friends." I'm not sure who all I consider my friends. Voodoo and I are buddies. Africa and Midas and Circuta are all nice, but I'm not sure I know any of them well enough or feel close enough to them to call them friends. I fucked Aurelia but she's more of that-horse-I-know-and-plowed. You know how it is. I wonder who all Damaris thinks are our friends, and if her count equals mine.


Text text text.
"Words words words."