Custard Dreams

As he strummed and murmured, wiping his eyes every so often… The lovelies wore heavy perfume and the sounds and smells, formed images that were starting to blur in his mind, as Ergot concentrated on the music. Who cared about the musicians, the Bard was so much more interesting and lovely, alone in the corner. So sexy and longing and loving. Abruptly a rush of wind came nearby and Ergot suddenly was supporting a woman, oh sweet mercy, a lovely.

Ergot had a predicament. His lute was safe, able to maneuver it away in time, he was surrounded by beasts of individuals, a dangerous ruler, and a young, striking woman was strung out on his lap. He wasn’t very sure what to do. The people had begun to bother him, as they always do just when he’s having a good time. A strong smell of liquor filled the air, and Ergot set his eyes on such a lovely in his arms. Setting aside his lute, taking care to keeping it safe and sound, Ergot checked her eyes and smelled the reeking alcohol. The female was obviously gone. Ergot leaned his head over her, listening and not making a single movement. Several moments passed, Ergot’s shadowed eyes widening with every second passing by.

She wasn’t breathing.

Ergot screamed. The sound of the clattering lute didn’t shake him from screaming and screaming. He needed some acid, oh divinity, he touched a dead person. The lovely was dead and fainted and she was near and on him. Wincing and shaking, he grabbed his lute and hugged it tightly, sliding away.

A few people began to stare.

No tears fell from his dark opaque eyes. He was just terrified. Horrified. She was warm but cooling, and more eyes set themselves on the curled warlock and the dead woman. Sweet mercy. Ergot covered his face with one elongated hand, and looked around for some help. More odd eyes, not the normal lovelies, different eyes. Against all the screaming voices, and the shrieks were unbearable, oh yes, wincing and humming.

Ergot looked up, squinting slightly and meeting a pair of violet, lavender eyes…Purple, sweet color of Aconitum. Ergot laughed at his own self, he was going to quote lyrics in a few moments. A few lovelies screamed, one of them had checked the female who has lain across his lap. Ergot slid over to the warm, cooling body and wrapped his arms about it, taking the hat off of the young woman’s lovely head and wearing it as his own, smiling warmly at his new attire. Then he gasped at the elvish ears poking from lovely hair. Startled, he quickly threw the hat from his head and coiled away, wiping his hands clean and wishing for some water and some wine to swallow. Immediately springing from his spot, Ergot grabbed his lute, wrapped himself in his cape, standing, in an urgent search for a new corner that didn’t have dead women lurking in it.