Chapter Text
Evening, citizens! Why, isn’t the sky just hideous?
Everything’s gone straight to Oblivion since I was last here.
They ought to pass laws against storms like this, but who’s going to listen? Even the seas are less wet these days, I swear.
At least this stuff tastes just like the old times, like piss brewed at the bottom of a dinghy…I was a regular here since your great uncle Quintus shot a bolt through his right eye, trying to get me out of his head.
Now put that knife down, will you? Do you really want to drench the inside of this place, too? Well, I suppose red is a better choice of color.
Anyway, I don’t think your cries will reach anyone, not with all those gutters weeping outside.
You weren’t around for the last big storm, were you? Not the one that really mattered.
Oh, that was a proper apocalyptic thing, metaphorical, like the heavens cracked open, and wrath peeled the earth clean. Really rained on Dagon’s parade it did and now, no more open season on Mundus—not that you’d expect a deal that good to last.
Things were simpler back then. I was a merry stripling just like you, thought the thing pushing my head underwater was actually holding me up. Ah, the follies of youth. Made all that violence more intimate.
I was having so much fun until when SOMEBODY had to toss up his arms, shout into the wind, and promised he’d send a loving letter from the sky.
Of course, it was all nonsense. I never heard from him again.
Am I boring you yet? My bad, it’s been ages since I used this voice. It’s usually for the dead.
Just get me the usual: 17 bottles of skooma, a pewter mug, and all the lockpicks you’ve got on you. Then you can get back to stabbing Lucia Agrippina in the kidney.
And don’t forget to close the new window (you're welcome!!). The tears will be torrential when they hit land.