The wine was deep and rich, red and warm, inebriating, like blood in battle.
“You really should consider beer.” The Hero of Ferelden looked at him over the rim of a tankard. “It doesn’t get you quite as drunk. At least, not as fast.” The accusation was clear. You drink too much and make bad decisions.
The Hero was young, after all. She didn’t have decades of loss and regret to drown. She had never known the alewives, the women who brewed beer full of knowledge and history. “I’ll consider it.”
Wine becomes you, old goat.
Beer retained too much.
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She's too young to have
Kahvi
She's too young to have experienced real beer, that's what. Which is what you wrote, but I mean literally. Which is to say - oh, you know what I mean. Life is too short for anything less than 8% beer.
All of which was a terrible way for me to begin this comment, because this is so, so, elegantly done. You wrestled this prompt to the ground, brushed it off, politely apologized to it and gave it a makeover. I'm making cumbersome jokes because I don't know how to express how good this is. Oh, Loghain.
Oh honey. klem
Roadsterguy
Oh honey. klem