Caelvir Auvyrae

I awoke this morning with a terrible malaise. I know what to blame for my misfortune and the evidence of my poor life choices are strewn across my floor. One would think I run a brewery with the volume of empty liquor bottles scattered from one end of my rats nest to the other. I couldn’t will myself to leave and face the masses, much less advertise my services. Even Gods take days off so why can’t I?

I spent much of my time laying in bed in a vain effort to nurse the throbbing migraine that permeated throughout my skull. It felt as if an army of goblins were marching to and fro right behind my eyes, causing them to blur in the wake of their stomping footfalls. I rose only when my bladder willed it so and to choke down a meager bowl of cold gruel; which did nothing for my feeble constitution. The only company I kept was the sound of a steady drip born from the hole in my ceiling. Its constant plip-plopping nearly drove me to madness. I tried to pack the hole with excess parchment I had on hand and for a time it quelled the beast. But parchment, as most scholars know, is not the best material to combat moisture with. I awoke to the sound of a wet smack and looked to see the soaked wad had met with the floor. All that remained was a pathetic, lumpy pile of now useless paper that I’d be expected to clean. It is part and parcel to other facets of my life, really.

When I did find the energy to stay awake for longer than a bell I took to people watching outside of my window. It’s fascinating to see how others act when they believe no one is watching. I watched two nobles exchange gossip on their way to where ever they were going. They seemed gleeful in their prattle, mindless nothings that delighted only their sensibilities. I also saw an elderly woman with a satchel of groceries on one arm. The handle broke and spilled her produce on the ice cold cobblestones, much to her dismay. I saw so many step around her as if unaware of her struggle, or perhaps uncaring. A reminder of how narrow our sights are while we wander through life.

The most notable moment I managed to spy was a pair of young lovers. I could tell the man was nervous by how he fidgeted and stuttered, his words failing him when it appeared he needed them most. The woman seemed patient, endeared by it all no less. I could see her fondness for him in her eyes even from my high perch. The pair were so fresh, so new. I both envied and hated them for it.

Night has fallen and here I sit, looking back on a day wasted with shame and melancholy. I must remind myself that it is my doing, ultimately. I feel the cravings returning, the draw to the bottle as strong as it was the night before. Yet I know if I give in to that temptation then I risk tomorrow being a repeat of today.

I can’t help myself though, can I?