She hadn't forgotten. She never forgot. But lately, the rum had been getting the better part of her. She seemed to have settled down in a simple enough town and found that drinking, especially binge drinking, seemed to help cause the blackouts and the tremor of nightmares to stay out of her head. It rather pleased her, so she found most of her time in a stupor.
She sat, like most days, at the local tavern with a bottle before her and a mug held lovingly in her hands. Both feet were kicked up in a relaxed manner atop a table and her eyes had long since shut gloriously closed. Day dreaming about the various people she recently had begun “dancing” for, offering rolls in the hay, sometimes just curling up with some lonely sap and letting them remember the warmth of a body next to them.
The days seemed to have blended themselves together. She couldn't recall, off the top of her head, how she had met Raziel, for instance. It seemed like he always just existed. Usually at her heels, but he was always there. His eyes would watch her every move. Slowly, her lips curled into a smile thinking of his puppy like actions. Everything he did, every little movement, he did to please her. He liked to watch her dance, but unlike most men he had no desire to oogle her. He was genuinely enthralled by her movement, how the scarves flowed, how he could hear the music that wasn't even playing. He was the only person she never charged coin for watching her dance, and she was the only person he could ever imagine could ever make money with the beauty of such movements.
In the past few weeks, she had grown fond of the young man. She had told him many a time that she was old, perhaps too old for him, but she still found herself taking him as a drinking partner and then asking him to keep her warm at night instead of the other way around. Just thinking about his strapping young arms around her made her booze laden heart purr.
“Aensa,” came a far away voice, drifting in and out of the haze in her mind. She agreed with the voice. She was, indeed, Aensa. Who wouldn't want to be her? Perhaps this voice was calling out with the same desire that many men have.
“Aensa,” the voice spoke, louder this time, perhaps with an air of sternness. Sternness? Was her mother in her head? Be gone, mother! I am a good person now and have no desire to revisit your memory.
“Aensa!” shouted the voice as a sharp pain seemed to emerge in her ribs. It was enough to cause her to jump and spill from her seat much like her rum was doing from her mug. Blearily she blinked her eyes open, rubbing them with a fist before she managed to converge four priests into two.
“Kylus. 'ow good ta sees ya! To whats do I owes this pleasure?” It took three tries, but she managed to right her chair and plop back into it. Her feet had long since remembered how to properly kick back upon the table, so they informed her head that they were staying put on the floor. Her mind seemed to think that was a very good idea since the wood was trying to separate and run away and hopefully her feet could keep it in place and perhaps talk some sense into it.
The priest pulled out a chair beside her with a sigh and shook his head. “Drinking again, I see?” Drinking? Oh yes. That was what she was doing. As she began searching for her mug in her hands, the priest neatly kicked it under another table as he deftly grabbed the bottle of rum and set it behind him as well. “What a shame. It looks as though you are clear out.”
“Must be...” Aensa mumbled as she couldn't recall finishing all that nectar, but certainly she must have since it was no longer around and Dulcina knew not to clean up after her unless she was truly finished.
“You really have to stop drowning your sorrows this way, Aensa.” Lips twisted once again into a disapproving frown as the priest shook his head.
Kylus was a kind man with kind eyes and hands that had a healing touch. He was priest of the Royal Church and did his duties while wearing his heart on his sleeve. She recalled the first time she met the priest, stumbling drunk at his door step. Although she couldn't recall much of the encounter, she know that ever since then he has tried to keep an eye on her and always lectured about her use of alcohol.
“Ya know I'm not drownin' my sorrows! Ya know I jest can't stand the nightmares no more.”
“Yes yes. The nightmares.” The odor that wafted about Aensa made it plainly clear she hadn't bathed in a few days, let alone change her clothing. Kylus looked about the room for the page boy that seemed to be following Aensa around these days and saw no one. He didn't much believe her about these nightmares. “I think it is about time you sober up for a few days. I don't see your friend about to take care of you.” Which was good. That boy seemed to be more trouble than help. He hung on her every word and would happily ply her with anything and everything she wanted. Who knows how many bottles of booze the two of them put away together?
“Come now. I'm going to take you to the church. Paetines and I will get you cleaned up and a good meal in your belly. That should sober you up at least a little.”
“Aww, Kylus. Ye've always been so good ta me. Ya sure ya don't wants a dance or a nice rolls in the hay?” A lopsided grin plastered across the woman's face as Kylus took her by the elbow and helped her to rise.
“No, Aensa. I've told you before. I'm happily married.”
“Foo. I dance fer plenty of happily married men.” Kylus rolled his eyes as he bore her weight and took her off towards the church.
