Alright, I have finally gotten around to writing again. In case anyone is confused, this is supposed to be a parody of NB44's fics, and kind of a miny tribute to her. Not everything is going to be drop dead funny though. We talked about me doing this a long time ago, and I have finally gotten around to doing it.
Oh, and being that its a tribute to her, and anyone that knows her whatsoever knows that she loves Numair being hurt or killed in fics, well, lets just say Numair rarely will live at the end of each chapter. :-)
Disclaimer- Don't own it! There are some things from Moulin Rouge. The main plot was mostly my own idea, but the overall idea of the title and such comes from A Need for Coffee, NB's fic.
A Need for Absinthe
"Absinthe..."
"Absinthe..."
Just saying that word made Numair's senses run wild. He needed it. He needed to feel the burning sensation down his throat, and to feel the enlightenment that it gave his mind. Oh how he ached for it.
The mage sank back into the velvet cushion of his chair, and with glowing eyes took out a very large bottle of the translucent green liquid and set it on the desk in front of him.
He knew he shouldn't have bought it, he knew how Daine would react to the sight of it, and he knew what toll its effects would take on his lanky body. He didn't care.
Getting up, Numair went to his kitchen and shuffled around desperately looking for a wine glass of some kind. Knowing Daine's dislike to alcohol, he wasn't the least bit surprised on the difficulty of finding his crystal glasses. Digging a little bit more in the cupboards, he finally found his precious crystal behind all of plates and cups, and he practically skipped on his way back to his study.
With glass in hand, Numair uncorked the bottle, and filled half of the sparkling crystal with the enticing emerald substance. He set the bottle back down, and then preceded to stare into the depths of his cup, mouth gaped in awe of this amazing drink.
With his senses reeling, Numair tilted the glass and downed it all, every single drop.
He slammed the glass down hard, closed his eyes, and let the all-too familiar feelings of the absinthe take over. Sweat broke out on his face as the flaming inferno of the licorice flavored drink tore through his throat. He could feel the effects of the high alcohol content almost immidiantly. When he opened his watery eyes, the world was spinning around him and he squeezed the sides of his chair hard to stop himself from toppling over.
When the wave passed, he looked back at the bottle, amusement and desire twisted across his features. He stood up, picked the bottle up from the desk, poured some more of its contents into the glass, and downed it all again.
This time, he got the same rush as he did at first, but now he was starting to feel the hallucinogens take force on his mind. Completely disoriented, Numair tried to sit back down in his chair, but he completely missed it and fell backwards onto the hard floor.
With his limbs shaking and his mind tainted by the drink, Numair forgot how to get himself off the floor, so he laid his head back and stared at the ceiling.
Much of his sight was masked in greenish-yellow hues, and he could have sworn he had just seen a centaur race a giraffe across his room. Inanimate objects came to life before his eyes, and the Green Fairy that was once on the cover of the bottle of his precious absinthe soared around his head singing.
"The hills are alive with the sound of music!"
Numair looked at her, utterly confused. "Who are you and what in Mithros name are you doing in my rooms?" he asked, with a slight slur.
"I'm the Green Fairy! I represent the bohemian revolution and I bring great celebration of truth, beauty, freedom, and about all things, love!"
Numair, still skeptical, rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself. " Just what I need, an idealistic fairy buzzing around my head that emerged off of an absinthe bottle. You are giving me a headache. Go back to your living hills of music or whatever you said, and leave me in peace!"
With a humph, the Green Fairy vanished in a poof of glitter and smoke.
Numair groaned, and with great difficulty managed to prop himself up on his elbows and look around the room. Everything was starting to turn back into its original color and shape, and didn't move around quite so much.
Somehow he pulled himself to a sitting position, and then he got up on his knees, and finally managed to stand up. That didn't last long however, and he slumped back into his chair and found himself staring at the absinthe bottle once again.
He knew that he should stop drinking, for Daine's sake as much as his, but the sparkling emerald bottle beckoned him on. It was an easy outlet to ignore and forget all current issues, and besides, what was one more glass going to do to him?
Grabbing the bottle once more, Numair completely ignored his glass and started taking large gulps directly out of it. Gasping, he set the bottle back down again, with it being very close to empty.
Leaning back into the chair, Numair closed his eyes and tried to control his shaking limbs. Sweat was rolling down his face and body in torrents, and he was breathing extremely hard.
He heard the outside door open and close, and footsteps in the main room. Soon, the footsteps were leading into his study and with them stood Daine wearing a look of pure disgust.
Numair looked back at her with bloodshot eyes and grinned at her.
"Hey Sweetling, I, uh, was wondering when you were coming back and I—"
"You what Numair? You got drunk, that's what!"
"Now Baby-face, drunk is a rather strong word don't you think?"
Daine threw up her arms in exasperation. "Numair I thought you said you were done with your addiction to absinthe! You promised me that you would stop all of this nonsense and move on to find better ways to cope with stress other than alcohol!"
Numair started giggling. "Did I mention how unbelievably gorgeous you look today my dear? You know, my bedroom is right over th—"
"NUMAIR!"
"Yes sugar?"
"STOP TALKING!"
With his reactions and thinking dampened by alcohol, Numair only caught bits and pieces of what Daine was saying.
"Talking? You wanna talk baby? I Prefer action over talking though—".
Taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself down, Daine grabbed Numair by the arm and dragged him out into the main room and through him down on the couch.
Numair seemed to like this. "You know, I like my women aggressive—"
That made Daine snap. "No Numair, however much to your disappointment this may be, I am NOT having sex with you right now, I'm just trying to get you away from that dreaded stuff that has taken over you!"
Numair looked crestfallen. "Not having sex? Wh-Wh-What? Wh-Why?"
"Hmmm, good question, why don't I leave you here to ponder it while I go get some help... You are an absolute mess."
Daine stomped out, in search of someone who could help her lover out of his drunken state of mind, most preferably Alanna. A little bit of temper and sharp tongue would be a nice plus.
While Daine was in search of the Lioness, Numair was left to deeply think about why she would not have sex with him.
Every reason that he came up with seemed to deeply trouble him, and he soon came to the conclusion in his drunken state of mind that it was because Daine had acquired a strange skin disease and was being cautious because it might be contagious, and she didn't want to ruin his perfect coffee-like complexion with boils or breakouts. That had to be it.
Gods he needed another drink.
Getting off of the couch, he swaggered into the study once again and picked up his beloved green bottle. Numair guzzled the remains of it and started prancing around the room.
"I'm a Green Fairy! The hills are alive, with the sound of muuuuusic!"
Numair continued his loud drunken ranting for a while, and soon passersby were throwing curious glances at his door from the hallway, wondering what idiotic experiment he was doing to require so much yelling.
With his vision going in and out and his ears roaring, he decided it would be better if he didn't yell so much. Instead, he proceeded to sway around the room flapping his arms around, pretending to be a quiet fairy, and as he was doing so, Daine and Alanna walked in, both with embarrassed and astonished looks on their faces.
"So this is what you meant when you said intoxicated, Daine? I would prefer to say, wasted beyond all reason."
Daine just shook her head in disbelief and walked over to the mage.
"Alright Numair, Alanna is here to look at you, so can you come here please?"
Numair paused from his task of gyrating his hips and looked at Daine.
"Sure thing baby. It's all right, by the way. Your secret about your skin problem is safe with me."
Alanna gave Daine a puzzled look.
"That's, uh, great Numair, now can you please come here?"
Numair staggered over, lost his balance, and knocked Daine over.
Lying on top of her, Numair grinned crazily. He looked into her face with the same crazy grin, and started laughing. Daine tried to get up, but he had her pinned down.
"Numair, can you please—"
"Guess what sugar? I'm a fairy!"
Daine looked hopelessly at the Lioness, and all she got was a smirk in return.
"Numair please!"
Numair laid his head down on her chest, a smile creeping across his face, and he let out a deep breath.
Daine rolled her eyes. As she tried to get up again, she could feel his body shaking, as if he was having a small seizure. Worry started to seep into her mind, and Alanna could see something was wrong too. As she started to walk over to see what was happening, Numair's arms jerked out and he stared wildly up a Daine.
"I...love.. bohemians..." he gasped, and a trickle of vomit came out of his mouth.
He slumped back down on Daine's chest, head nestled nicely in her cleavage. This time Daine was in complete panic, and she felt his neck for a pulse. There was nothing. She felt his wrists and still couldn't find one. Alanna rushed to them and turned Numair over.
He was dead.
Daine let out a wail and Alanna tried to restart his heart. But it was no use, his body was tainted from the absinthe and was beyond any repair. He had died from alcohol poisoning.
With tears running down her face, Daine hugged his limp body and cursed him for his stupidity. She also cursed herself for not stopping his lethal habit when she had the chance. Now, all she had left of him were happy thoughts of them spending time together, and the unforgettable memory of him gyrating his hips in front of her. Both were things she could never forget.
There, how was it? This is kind of my trial run for writing something like this, so I really hope it didn't suck too bad.
Anyway, the effects of the absinthe and so forth are probably over-exagerated, but im sure you guys can use your imaginations. I really don't know if someone can die from drinking one bottle of absinthe, and i know that normally you drink absinthe when it is dilluted with water and sugar, but hey, my fic, my rules. Lol.
Review Please!
NL