He's not supposed to drink, and he knows it. For months and months he hasn't even gotten tipsy, trying so hard to keep the promise he made to himself after last time. Sometimes he had a stray beer, but that was rare, and he felt guilty afterwards every time. It's been so long since he's had more than one, and he shouldn't, he really shouldn't. The last time he was drunk he ended up overdosing on painkillers and landed himself in hospital. His siblings screamed at him and his old friend nearly ripped his guts out for it. He's not supposed to drink.
Rutilus thinks about this as he drinks his wine. It's cheap, of course, and that was another downfall of his previous drinking; it cost him bucketloads of cash. This wine is cheap and a pale pinkish colour, like a dying newborn's skin. Rutilus laughs at himself for his thoughts and stares up at the ceiling, studying the intricate white patterns. They're awful, really, but it's not like he can ever afford to change it. Hell, he can barely pay the bills as it is. The carpet on the floor, he notices, needs replacing. Not that it'll ever happen.
He's not supposed to get upset, but he can't help it. Sometimes he thinks about his friends and he smiles, but lately it seems that all he does is frown over them. The beautiful, peacock-maned temptress; she is the only one he isn't afraid of, but at the same time, she makes him nervous beyond belief. It is in his nature to doubt and to worry about whether he is welcome or not. When the temptress' guardian and protector beat the living shit out of him, he was horrified to discover that still she stayed with the other, and not the stag whose golden coat was stained rose-red. At least, until later, that was...
Often he still regrets that fall-out, when everything suddenly came crashing. Rutilus is a cocky creature, and he used the feral hart as a tool to infuriate the dark elk, anger him further. He'd never expected to be attacked for it, and he hadn't realised at the time that the one being used would be upset with him. He still feels guilty. He shouldn't ever use somebody as a tool, and he shouldn't fight with his friends or wish they would choose him over the others. It's not as if Rutilus is particularly close to them, is it? He doesn't even curl into the dark elk as he used to, especially not when the wild hart and peacock temptress are around.
He's not supposed to love, but he can't help it. Rutilus is afraid, terrified, of getting close to people. They leave in the end, they move on, they find other friends and they lose interest in him. He gives them a piece of himself and in return, he is kicked to the ground by an unseen force that had him marked as a sinner from birth. Either the Christian God hates him, or he wronged the Twins as a fawn and as a result is destined to be unlucky for the rest of his life.
Sometimes, the gypsy doe wanders into his mind, and he smiles. The burdens lift and he stops thinking. He stops worrying about the few friends he has left and whether or not they realise how afraid he is of them, and how much the thought of losing them scares him, how much the concept of getting any closer terrifies him. Sometimes all he can dream of is his gypsy, and somehow, he finds he doesn't mind that much. Rutilus swallows the last of his drink, feels the remnants of worry fade away, and laughs.
He's not supposed to drink, but sometimes, it helps.
*pets him* :<
|: I am incapable of writing
B| *throws happy at him*
Poor guy! But somehow, I feel
Until then, hold on silly Rut!
"Sometimes all he can dream
"Sometimes all he can dream of is his gypsy..."
I love you. And Rutilus. And your writing <33.
Never stop.
Mis; LOL :'D It has to get
AA; sdfkjsdfh :'D I love you toooo and Marti and dsfkjh <3