Drama! Intensity! Liquor! Monkey! Wait...

An occasional muttered word, a sudden movement, a gasping breath... Imera was never really awake. A mind barely conscious, tainted by some kind of raging inner poison, masquerading behind a drowsy face, a limply moving body. A gust of warm air rushed across Imera as she stepped through the entrance to the castle, eyes slowly blinking. The whirling skirts of so many dancing ladies... the alcoholic breath of so many drinking men... and Imera's mind, without hesitation, drove her instantly into the midst of these men. A harried servent turned to rush by her and she stopped him, smiling rather seductively. Her hand slipped in to grab a glass of whatever reddish liquid he was carrying on his tray, and with a smile and a swish she had gone again. A slow grin spread across her dizzy face and the brim of the glass rose toward her lips, as if her hand were a magical elevator to heaven. A pink tongue slipped out to lick the glass and to draw it to her lips, and Imera drank. The red wine slid smoothly down her throat and Imera again felt the excited warmness of alcohol in her body. She swirled around, stopping another servant, taking another glass, this time of something light green and thick. This liquid, too, found itself sliding gently into Imera's mouth, just as the first was finding it's timid way into her blood stream.

The thickly warming alcohol forged a path through the inner highways of Imera's body. Soon it would begin to affect her mentally, but not yet... of course, her alcohol tolerance level was (by now) quite high. For now, she continued dumping poison into her body by the mouthful, in complete disregard for the soon-to-come dizzy sickness.

As the night commenced, Imera passed so many servants, drank so many glass-fulls of so many different alcoholic nightmares. Colors began to merge and blur until the dance floor became more of a writhing, multi-colored being, swirling and pulsing in time to the music.

A servant rushed in Imera's direction, moving quickly away from the person whom, from the snippets of conversation she had paid attention to, she deemed to be Larkin the Shrike. She side-stepped gracefully in front of the servant, who stopped suddenly, nearly spilling his tray. Smiling, she slid a hand out to grasp a glass of the clear liquid he carried. As soon as her fingers closed around it, she spun away, leaving the servant blinking after her.

Imera brought the glass to her lips. As she drew it toward her, she smelled it from at least six inches away. Even the scent was strong enough to send shivers up her spine, and she shook her head, clearing her vision.

The glass completed its journey to her lips, and she dipped her tongue into it slightly. It burned. She tipped the glass up, resting it on her bottom lip. A second's hesitation, and then the liquid poured into her mouth, swirling around her tongue and teeth, burning her lips. The poisonous elixir made its deathly merry way down her throat and into her body as she drained the whole glass.

The reaction was instant; Imera's whole brain exploded in an ecstatic chemically induced glee, and she spun, laughing, into the crowd. Time seemed to slow, and Imera continued swirling through the crowd, dancing out of time, to a music only she could hear. She danced and danced, spun and spun, weaving in and out of the people around her. Some were startled, but most just kept on dancing around her. The atmosphere was filled with an unexplainably ecstasy and Imera exploded into a fit of hysterical laughter. She smacked violently into a dancing nobleman; they both staggered, but Imera continued dancing. Time continued to slow down, and everything went in slow motion. Imera's limbs became heavy, and she spun, nearly out of control, straight into a man who seemed much too tall and too menacing to be human; his orange eyes glared questioningly at Imera as she fell into him, and he instantly threw her off, pushing her away: it was the Shrike. Staggering, she continued her dizzy dance, even as time continued to drag and the music grew slower still, thoughts of Larkin the Shrike clouding her already blurred brain. But after what was only a few seconds (although it seemed to Imera to be a few hours), her mind went comfortably blank, and she continued to dance out of control.

She spun once or twice unwillingly into the wall, but bounced right back off again, continuing her death-dance. Suddenly, pain gripped her slender body, and she stumbled into the empty corner... except that it wasn't empty. There was a lonely bard sitting there, manically stroking the strings of his lute.

He seemed barely surprised as Imera fell onto his lap out of nowhere, and somehow, quick reflexes had managed to remove the lute from the path of the falling girl.

Ergot gently leaned his lute against the wall, and, with paranoid fingers, propped her up. Imera smiled carelessly at him, head lolling slightly. Then pain gripped her again, and she tensed. An alcoholic scream escaped her alcohol-stained lips, and her alcohol-poisoned body writhed in Ergot's frightened arms. Then the color faded from Imera's world. The music slowed to an impossible beat, and everything began to fade slowly into whiteness. Her body went limp in Ergot's arms, and Imera smiled one last, alcohol-induced smile, whispering, "The end," as her mind stole away into darkness.

Imera, this whole time had been setting there, taking everything in. What was happening?
Who was Tic? Who was Larkin?
Imera had.. or at least she remembered waking up to Miraye and then everything went so fast. Stelon came and saved us and then they talked. Imera couldn’t remember what she had said or what they had said.
Where was she? This wasn't the Tavern. Her head throbbed a little. She looked around a little for something to drink. Water.... There was no Spirits. She groped desperately for the flask she had kept on her belt but it had disappeared. Where was it, dammit?! Her mouth was dry, her head was throbbing. Soon all she could hear was the soothing voices of Miraye and Stelon.
A thought struck her suddenly, Were they going to turn her in? Would Miraye in a desperate attempt to save Tic (whoever that was) betray Imera? She looked over at them. No... Miraye wouldn't do that. She didn't know much about her but a strange power generated off of her that soothed Imera.
She thought about saying something, but what could she say? She mustn't disturb them, no. She would sit here idle like when she was a slave. No one would hurt her then.
So, she just watched, still as stone, wishing she had some ale.

A slow, dull pulsing. Imera was used to it by now but lately it had been getting worse. Probably because she had been drinking non stop, barely taking time to sleep. It was another day in the tavern. The usuals sat around talking abnormally loud and in slurred voices. Talking about things that probably never happened. Imera never talked to anyone in the Taverns she only drank. Once in awhile she would have to leave and find some means of getting money whether it was by stealing or just finding it. Being sober was hard though and Imera couldn't stand it anymore. It was like having an itch that wouldn't go away. She was usually puking from a never ending hangover or was just out of it. She took another deep drink from her large glass and thought about just drowning herself in it. She felt so heavy. She could barely lift her head, much less her whole body. She often thought about ending her life but was never sober enough to.

She could feel herself nodding off, about to fall asleep or pass out. Or maybe she was dying. Her head fell hard against her glass sending the contents flying over on somebody close by.
He was a large man and apparently very angry because he came over.
Imera rubber her head in pain and looked up. "What the hell do you want?"
He picked her up by the scruff of her shirt and growled threateningly.
"God man, your breath stinks!" she coughed and waved her hand in front of her nose. She really wasn't aware of what she was saying or what was going on.
"If you weren't a girl," he held up his fist, "I would kill you!" his voice was full of anger and Imera flinched and covered her face, waiting for the blow.
He laughed and threw her down, hard. She slid across the floor and hit a table. Her hat came off.
The place went quiet. Her ears were in everyone’s view now.
"She's an ELF!" one of them said.
Imera quickly grabbed her hat and pulled it on. She stumbled to get up.
"Kill her!" the large man said chasing after her.
She quickly sprinted out the door and into the muddy street. She kept on running, she could hear him and the others behind her, screaming at her. Soon everyone heard there was an elf on the streets. She would surely be caught if she stayed. She ran. Ran out of the city gates and into the country side until she collapsed on the ground.

"Ow!" a girl lay on the ground, in a vacant alley face down. Apparently she had been passed out because she had no recollection of how she became on the ground or why there was a broken bottle of ale lying next to her hand. She sat up slowly, her head felt like someone has bashed it with a dull axe. There was a sharp pain in her eyes that made it hard to look around. Her hat had come off and she hastily pulled it over her Elven ears. Her hair stuck up everywhere but she didn't notice, she was too busy trying to stand up. She grabbed onto a brick wall but her hand slipped and she found her self back where she started. It took several tries but she finally was on her feet.

The alley swayed back and forth and it seemed blurry; out of focus. She shakily took a step, leaning up against the wall to stable herself. She suddenly felt sick (well, sicker) and bent over and pulled on her shoes. She didn't take notice but kept going. The alley seemed to be getting longer and longer and Imera was getting drowsier and drowsier. She tripped over something or maybe a someone. Someone curled up on the ground? Lying there Imera tried to see what or who she had tripped over before everything went black again.