The weeks passed slowly, a whirlwind of entangled emotions and drink. Of course, he'd sort of just...accepted his situation by then, and knew he'd probably never get out of it. But he wasn't sure he minded. Well...that wasn't the right word. He minded...he minded a lot. He hated this life. But he also knew he wouldn't last super long here, and that was a comfort at least.

The steady promise of the embrace of death lingered, always nearby. It might have been scary, or concerning, if he was in his right mind....the fact that he was so ready for that final beating, or the time he sat down in the corner and never got back up. Maybe he would see Jora and the baby again, if they would be all together in the afterlife. If there was even an afterlife.

But for now, he was here, and he just...needed to pass the time. His only comfort was the bottle on his hand, and the knowledge that it would block out all the things he didn't want to ever remember or think of again. It only helped so much, of course....but once he was out cold in a bed somewhere none it it mattered. He didn't need to think about any of it.

That was where he was now...dragging himself up and out of one of the many beds in the tavern room, a blonde woman still passed out on the bed next to him. He moved to get dressed clumsily, though luckily she was a deep sleeper. Or she was just drunk. That was often what happened too. But he tugged the tight clothes back on with a sigh....if you could even really call them clothes...and then slipped out of the room, heading back to the front of the tavern.

There weren't many people there yet, since it was early, so he moved to the front porch, plopping onto one of the chairs there and going through the bottle over the course of a few hours. Once he'd finished the bottle though, he sighed and moved to head back inside for another, knowing he'd need a good few more to be drunk enough to get through the day. He was definitely already drunk...it just wasn't enough yet.

He grabbed another bottle from the back room, then moved to settle himself in his normal corner, flirting in a drunken stupor like he was supposed to as the customers started to flock in. It was around lunch time, so it was getting fairly busy....which meant there was always a hand on his body or someone doing something to get his attention.

Sage was back at it again, grabbing another bottle from the back room, and then moving to settle himself in his normal corner, flirting in a drunken stupor like he was supposed to as the customers started to flock in. It was around lunch time, so it was getting fairly busy....which meant there was always a hand on his body or someone doing something to get his attention.

By then he was pretty well drunk though, so if they were around him they aort of just blended in with the background noise. And there was a lot of background noise...it was rush hour, so things were pretty loud.

His head always seemed to hurt, the voices whirling around him with a force that nearly knocked him over as he forced himself to his feet, staggering out towards the patio. He didn't go there often....but sometimes it was quieter out there, which was nice. There'd still be people out there...but there would be less of them.

He felt his shoulders relax slightly when the noise dampened as he moved outside and he dropped onto the chair that was in the corner out there. Immediately, someone was in his lap, and he offered them a drunken smile, body moving without his mind really agreeing to it. Or even caring, really.

(Sorta short, he's only doing so much at the moment lol)

Sage noted the sun going down only when the lights to the patio turned on, suddenly sending what seemed like light from a thousand tiny suns straight into his eyes. He groaned and moved back inside, abandoning the woman who had been attempting to work him up, no doubt hoping for a room tonight.

He didn't get super far inside before a different one, a brunette this time, grabbed a hold of him, tugging him a long by the waist. He wrinkled his nose slightly, realizing she'd already paid for a room, and downed the last of his bottle as she tugged him down the hallway.

It didn't take long for the drink to take affect, of course, so he didn't recall much after that....just flashes of things here or there. He wished he could block it all out...but some was better than nothing....right?

He'd oassed out next to her at some point, waking up early the next morning with a terrible hangover. He groaned as he sat up, quickly moving to get dressed and escape the room, barely making it to the bathroom before dry heaving into the toilet. There was nothing in his stomach....there never was anymore...but the combination of knowing what had taken place, knowing what was going on and feeling terrible about it now that he was sober, and the hangover was a pretty bad combination in terms of nausea.

After a few minutes of gagging into the corner on his knees, hand trembling with the strength it took to hold his hair out of the way, he collapsed into the floor. It was disgusting, but he just didn't have any strength left. He stayed there for maybe half an hour or so, until he found the energy to drag himself up and over to the bar, retrieving the strongest bottle he could find.

And thus the cycle continued.

Sage had wandered around the tavern for a while, just working on downing the bottle he had in has hand before he talked to anyone. It was still early enough in the day there weren't many people there still ...which was definitely good. He didn't have the energy to deal with anyone yet. He'd need at least another bottle.

He did miss the fresh air though, so while he was still sober enough to appreciate the fresh air, he stepped outside. The porch was still mostly enclosed, but it at least had the windows open. It was something at least....and he did miss being outside. On the ocean. The adventures that came with the life he'd had.

Of course, that sent a pang of grief through his whole body, and he collapsed onto a chair, breath hitching. He closed his eyes, trying to console himself. It only worked so well of course, but he chugged the rest of the bottle before opening the second one he'd stashed in his pocket so he wouldn't have to go back inside.

The bottle opened with a rather satisfying pop, and he chuckled bitterly to himself as he lifted it to his lips. He did hate how he'd wound up....just some twink who couldn't manage life without being too drunk to even register what was happening. The mornings were always hardest....he wasn't drunk yet, and everything hit him like a truck. He sort of wished it was an actual truck...then he wouldn't need to deal with the rest of it.

But he was here, and he was somehow still alive. He didn't necessarily want to be....but that was how it was. Nothing he could do would change that. So just chug the bottle. Bottle after bottle after bottle, and hope he passed out quickly enough into the night he wasn't too sore the next morning.

His body always hurts, and he pretty well limped around everywhere. Well...he was staggering about drunk most of the time too. And he certainly wasn't sober anymore. But for now, the fresh breeze was nice, so he sipped a little slower as he neared the end of his bottle, not quite wanting to move back inside for another one. He'd get stuck in there now.

Sage hadn't seen Jora at first either, since he was just zoned out. Pretty well drunk too, by then, as hed mostly finished the bottle in his hand. When he did catch sight of her he just scowled turning his face away.

He saw her everywhere....her face was on women coming n to the tavern. He heard her voice and smelled her scent on the wind. But it never stayed. All it did was taunt him, remind him of what he'd lost.

He moved to get to his feet then, in an attempt to run far away from the ghost he was seeing. Of course, being drunk, he ran into a table and wound up dropping the bottle, the noise of it deafening as he huffed out a breath, steadying himself on the table and then moved to jump away as the woman in charge of tavern came running out. He couldn't avoid the slap that came his way though, and he was knocked over, landing pretty well fully on top of the broken bottle, cheek smarting from the hit.

He didn't make a move to get up as she yelled at him, nor did he attempt to move from the foot that landed heavily on his side. He just turned his face away, towards the window. Maybe this was it. His vision was already going....maybe he'd finally get out of here. The breeze blew through the window soft against his face, bringing with it the smell of the ocean faintly. Well, if he was going to die here....he supposed it could be worse. He just took a deep breath, hoping to hold that faint scent, even if it was just his imagination.