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The Crack that Never Was

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Drunken Pirates! [Sep. 24th, 2006|02:19 pm]
The Crack that Never Was

rpthatneverwas

[keeptothebeat]
[Current Mood |drunkdrunk]

Demyx was simply in awe. How the calmest of the pubs in the dank port of Tortuga managed to become the most insane and inane of them all, he wasn't sure. The bard had hidden under the ledge of the counter where the bartender was serving up drinks, hoping his friends would not think him a complete wuss and disown him, but when the bartender plopped a large mug of rum into his hands, he didn't complain. Sure, technically he was underage, but seeing as Namine, Roxas, and even his squat little friend Pence were downing various beverages from their own assorted cups and bottles, Demyx figured it was safe enough to join in the "fun".

The rum washed down his throat, warming everything from the mouth down to his stomach with a sort of hazy heat. The Melodious Nocturne grinned, gulping more of the dark liquid and letting the intoxicating effects make him loose and tension free. What had he been worrying about anyway, this stuff was good! Chugging down the last of the mug, Demyx leaned over and tapped the bulky man behind the counter, asking for another bottle of the liquid drug. Rum was good! He wondered why he never had it before.

Taking another sip, water starting to condense on his forehead and running down the random spiky bangs. It was getting hot. Stripping off the black coat, revealing the black tank top and leather pants underneath, Sitting there in a lazy bliss, Demyx was getting bored. What could he do to liven up the place?

The water mage then noticed an unoccupied table in the middle of the tavern, and a single lamp chained from the ceiling, shining down like a spotlight. The music still played, from where he did not know, or really care. The alcohol made him giddy, and all inhibitions were gone. Leaping onto the table, bottle in hand, Demyx began to dance, swaying, and mouthing random lyrics to the music.
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: aceinthepocket
2006-09-27 12:23 am (UTC)
Luxord by nature was coolheaded, but drunk Luxord was prone to changing moods at the drop of a coin. Or more specifically, at the sight of two blondes that Luxord had previously ushured out of the establishment (or thought he did) suddenly zooming by. Luxord halted in mid toast, noticing the telltale signs of someone under the influence. A dark shadow fell over his face, flushed first red from the alcohol and second from the maelstrom of violent emotion stirring within. He set down his mug on the counter quietly.

Roxas had deliberately defied his advice (orders) to avoid the drink as he was still a minor. The boy had explicitly (or rather in Luxord's fuzzy memory) swore he'd never drink a drop, and there he was doing just that. He'd lied. LIED. Luxord took hold of a table and overturned it in one broad sweep of his arms, sending several of the men unconscious on its surface flying into other parts of the bar.

"OUTRAGE!!" and promptly charging through the crowd. "CHURCHILL ANGRY! CHURCHILL SMASH!!!"
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