FFXIV Write Prompt #28: Irenic
[tw: drugs/alcohol, depression, general escapism]
Itara couldn't feel anything anymore. The ghosts that had chased her out of the door were gone, drowned under glass after glass of alcohol, and suffocated in sweet smoke.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Not the debt collectors on her heels, or the regulatory people knocking at her door. Her enemies didn't matter, and the needs of her friends were malms away. The crossed pirate was far off to sea, and her promises sailed away with them. Left was nothing but hollow contentedness, the comfortable void she so often ran to. It was quiet here, with no one to bother her, and her own mind hushed, she could escape the stress of it all.
She was vaguely aware of music, of the murmur of voices around her. But she was more than happy to sit sprawled out on the couch in the corner, least she thought she was still in the corner. It was near every day she was chased here, running from something unpleasant. A stray thought, an off comment, a look of disdain on the street; anything could send her down this path. It was rare she actually met her destination; she often passed or became otherwise disposed of before she could arrive. At least sleep brought its own kind of peace.
The only ache that remained was loneliness. That one seemed hard to forget without a distraction. She forced her eyes to focus around the bar, looking for someone to entertain her. But the effort was too much for the well-gone elezen, and she gave up. Stumbling to her feet, she found her way out of the establishment. She knew plenty of people who'd fill that need; she just needed to find one.
FFxiv Write 2020 Archive
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