[accidental video post]

[favorthebold]

[The feed clicks on at random to an odd view: just outside of Saul's house, on the grassy riverfront, stands a low table decorated with fresh branches, flowers, fruits and even the occasional sweet. A dish of water with a pair of shining silver coins in it, and a mirror propped up, complete the small shrine - as that's rather obviously what it is. Saul is at the head of the table, kneeling, wearing bright festive clothes that he almost definitely sewed by himself. His head is down, hands on his knees. It's not hard to figure out that he is praying.

After a long minute of silence, he finally raises his head and moves back a little from the table, apparently still not noticing that the PCD is recording. He picks up a cup from the table, drinks it down in one gulp, then sits back, grinning. After another moment, he starts to sing softly in his own language. He isn't very good but not entirely bad.

The feed captures pretty much the whole song, before fading out.]



((OOC: I guess it'd sound a bit like this. Happy equinox, everyone XDDD))

Comments

[favorthebold.livejournal.com]

Perhaps; but he is a sadder one who loses all self-possession, speaks when he shouldn't and winds up stabbed in the back when witless. And such things happen more often than you might suppose.

[bunny_flower]

If it is what soldiers in your world do when exposed to alcohol, they need some serious training before they can be admitted on a battlefield ever again.

[favorthebold.livejournal.com]

Men are men, doma. I know that you are no mere mortal, but they are, and they will be weak. Best to avoid some things altogether, there is nothing worse than dying a fool.

[bunny_flower]

Not being human does not make us immune to alcohol, Saul-san. We have our share of drunkards, unfortunately.

But I can agree with you on that last point.

[favorthebold.livejournal.com]

That is not what I meant, specifically... but it's interesting to know.