Title: Winter Mourning
Rating: G
Author: Mizuki Perry
Pairing: none
Fandom: Bedlam's Bard, Elves on the Road universe by Mercedes Lackey
Word Count: 1,033
Genre: Fantasy
Warning: Talk of alcoholism,angst, oh so much angst
Beta (s): Yes, thanks to my girlfriend ^.^ although she said needs more semi-colons which I still failed to include.
Disclaimer: These are not my characters, they belong to Mercedes Lackey. I make no money from this nor will I.
Summary: It's their first winter in San Francisco, and things are tough, causing Eric to fight some inner demons.
Damn, is it always so cold here in winter?
It was another unsuccessful day out working, busking, barely making enough money for food that night. Not surprising, no one wants to come out in this temperature. Music was what Eric loved, his companions Beth and Kory joining him busking was almost a dream come true- they played amazing music together and built beautiful energy - and on a good day they could get enough for a few days of food and save some for the bills. But winter had so far hit them hard, and they struggled to make enough to survive.
"This would be so much easier if we could use magic, you know..." Eric muttered, as they walked the road back to their townhouse, carrying their instruments. Beth Kentraine shot him a glare, and said nothing, though her face said it all 'speak again and we'll only have to worry about two mouths to feed'. Eric knew to keep his mouth shut, especially when Beth muttered back, "not using magic to get money was your idea in the first place..." even though it was Beth who was most uncomfortable with magic in the house at all.
He glanced at Kory, and wondered what he was thinking about their bickering, especially as he was the most frustrated by the no magic rule, which was put in place for ethical (Eric's) reasons, and to stop the Feds from getting suspicious (Beth). Korendil gave nothing away though, except a look of misery.
God, I could use a drink. I just feel so crap right now. We had a great run when we first got here, how could we dry out now? And me, I'm supposed to be a Bard, someone 'brilliant' who can move a nexus and save the Elf population of LA, but I can't make enough money to see us through. God, what's wrong with me?
I hate times like this. I hope it will get better, it has to get better, or else... He shuddered as a memory came to him, one he hadn't thought about in a while, but made him feel as bad now as it did when it happened. It was after he quit Julliard, and he was busking in New York City in a subway station. The Second Flute in the orchestra had spotted him, Looney Banyon, and taunted him, reminded him of how low he'd become. Then put a twenty dollar bill in his case. I had to take it, I had no money, no where to sleep, no food; no choice. I, why now? Why...This is different! I've achieved, I've done things that other musicians don't even know are possible! That fucking bastard still manages...
I really need a drink...
They arrived at the town house, no one said anything until the last...elf, was through the door and closed it behind him. Beth put her guitar down in the hallway, a little more roughly than perhaps was healthy for it, and went to the kitchen, declaring, "Gods I need a drink!".
That's not fair.
She went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, one of the last left, and Eric watched as she took the top off and glugged down a few mouthfuls. Jealous. He'd given up drink and drugs when they moved to San Francisco, too many problems were made worse by his escaping into a bottle.
But God it was tempting.
His eyes wondered to the counter next to the fridge, where a bottle of Bushmills Whiskey sat half drunk. Kory, not affected by alcohol, sometimes enjoyed a little tipple, so they kept it around for him, and until now Eric had never been tempted. He'd begun to appreciate the clarity that sobriety offered, and the chance it gave him to think before he acted.
But now... Now he just wanted to forget. Forget the memories, forget his uselessness, forget that he couldn't provide for them when he should be the one they relied on.
Before he made a move, Korendil was at his side and put a hand on his shoulder. :Please Eric. There is no need: And he could feel a sense of calm coming over him. But at once, Eric rejected it. :No magic in the house, remember?: And shrugged Kory away, ignoring the hurt look on his face and made a beeline for the bottle.
"Eric, please!" Kory said, and Beth reached for the bottle, but Eric snatched it from her, almost snarling.
"You, cannot, tell me what I can and can't drink."
"Nobody is trying to tell you anything, Eric! But drinking your way out of a problem doesn't solve anything and most of the time with you will only create a new one! Where are you going to run away to this time? And where will that leave us? We'll still have no money Eric!" Beth shouted. The words hurt him, he knew the bottle wasn't the answer, but it sure as hell made the pain going away for a while. And he missed that. She didn't try and take the bottle again, he noticed, so he unscrewed the top and brought the drink to his lips.
Korendil spoke, softly, and calmly, "Eric, do not throw this away. You have done so well for this long, my friend. I beg you not to ruin it. Please don't put yourself through that disastrous cycle again."
Eric paused, and almost put the bottle down, but then, "I just want to forget..." and he closed his eyes and drank a mouthful of the whiskey, feeling it burn on its way down his throat. The familiar sensation made him feel better, good, and ... absolutely guilt-ridden.
What have I done... Stupid, stupid Eric! What the hell do you even think you were doing? Fuck. Now I've given them another thing to hate me for. A useless, fucking, alcoholic Bard who can't make any money. What kind of friend, what kind of person am I?
He opened his eyes and looked at his companions. Beth, utterly disappointed in him, and Kory... Kory just looked sad. Unable to think of anything else to do, or say, he put the bottle down, and cried into his sleeve.