Watch your back and hold your own

In truth Flurry was probably living up to her self appointed role as the disappointment at this point. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been sober. Couldn't remember much of anything in truth. Logically it had to have been before that final conversation with her father, when she'd tried to just express what she feared most and then had left, too afraid to see how much she'd let him down. They hadn't exactly been on solid terms in months, even prior to that.

What Flurry was about to learn was going to nearly kill her. She staggered her way drunkenly towards her mother's call. And the words she heard felt like she'd been knocked around by a polar bear. Flurry was pretty sure she was going to be sick. Others were speaking, and she could only make out voices, everything sounding like she was underwater. This. This was what she'd been trying to avoid, the fear she'd been trying to get anyone to take seriously. That aggressions would keep mounting until someone ended up dead. There was no satisfaction in being right. Only nausea. She was sick. Her booze filled stomach heaving itself onto the ground in front of her.

Flurry had to get away, had to leave. She needed oblivion and she needed it now. Having emptied herself into the ground she wobbled herself away. She was going to avoid consciousness for as long as she could it was all she could do at this point.

-Exit Flurry-

- | movement | speech  -