A/N: Yes, I realize that there is a decline in the end of the story... I'm so sorry about the poor quality. My excuse? Well, after taking it up after a half-year "hiatus", I felt the need to rush through and finish it. ...many thanks to Soren-kun who reviewed my story with praise, regardless. And here's... the wimpy epilogue!
Enjoy!
Partying held various meanings. For Shinon, it meant a day at the tavern. There was nothing better than a few drinks to loosen up any built-up stress. And after the crazy fiasco that resulted in a casualty, Shinon needed all the relief he could get. The scene still haunted him from time to time, as soon as he dropped his guard. The images wouldn't leave his mind. Matteo's limp body, lying flat against the cold ground was hard to forget.
He shuddered visibly and took a seat. Raising his arm slowly, Shinon ordered a drink and glanced around. By the looks of it, half of the patrons were of the cat tribe. A few others consisted of tigers and the occasional hawk. Not a single beorc in sight. The thought was chilling. And yet, they paid him no notice. A glass was slammed in front of his face and he glanced over curiously. A shot of bourbon, the powerful stuff. He downed the drink and licked his lips, savoring the taste.
Some hero he had turned out to be. Shinon planned on drinking till he could no longer stay awake. That's right, he'd knock himself out and avoid the reminiscence of the death. As the second shot arrived, Shinon was busy contemplating his decisions. Actually, it was disgusting, how he lacked the conscious not to loathe himself. What was there to like?
"Aw, c'mon. Don't kill yourself like that. That's such a waste of a perfectly fine archer." Shinon flinched, hearing Janaff's chipper voice. The hawk didn't strike him as someone who could hold his liquor. Crossing off that possibility, Janaff must've come looking for him. The thought strangely pleased him. It was something fame could never have achieved. Compassion.
The liquid passed his lips, resulting in a burning sensation. It scorched his throat as it traveled down, leaving a sort of reward for daring the stinging impression first left. Shinon closed his eyes and could've sworn the beverage was actually sugarcane juice. The aftertaste reminded him of none other than candy, of all things. Not that he enjoyed sweets in particular.
Funny, the taste of the bourbon reminded him of his unstable relations between those he considered friends. Should someone prove themselves able to withstand his sharp, crude remarks, a softer, milder side began to emerge. "You are what you eat, I suppose. Coming from a drunkard like me, pah..."
"Well, you certainly aren't what parents would like their children to mature into. Even so, I'm satisfied. 'cause in the end, a friend is a friend."
Shinon scowled and slammed a fist against the counter. He eyed Janaff warily and responded, "Friendships can break, do you realize that?" Glancing away, he began to trace circles upon the wood with his index finger. "Family sticks together no matter what..."
Janaff chided playfully, "What's this? Is there something you're trying to imply?"
"Damn bird, are you blind?"
"Oh, no. Far from that!"