forwardmomentum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thisavrou_log2016-05-17 12:50 pm
forwardmomentum) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-05-17 12:50 pm
[ closed ] this is not the last snowfall, not our last embrace
Who: Miles Vorkosigan and Alys Vorpatril
When: today...ish
Where: the bar
What: Miles is sad about his superboyfriend being gone, gets drunk with his aunt, weird family bonding occurs
Warnings: extreme moping
It's not often that Miles is in the bar when he's not tending to it, but tonight's an exception. Throwing himself into his work isn't always a viable coping strategy, as recent events have shown, but he doesn't have much else to distract him. Except for alcohol. It is the Vor way, after all.
Miles has been trying not to mope now that Clark's gone. He wouldn't call it moping, he'd like to think it's at least dignified misery, but let's be real here: it's moping. Slumped in a chair at the bar with his elbows just barely propped on the table, slowly nursing a glass of wine with a face the definition of morose, Miles is most definitely moping.
It isn't petty or out of a desire for theatrics, though. In fact, despite his exaggeration in all things emotional, Miles is being uncharacteristically untheatrical about it. No, this is just straight up brokenhearted. Resting his cheek against his good hand, he stares blearily at a small stack of files on the table in front of him with some vague intent to work, but all he manages is a sigh, and he reaches for his glass.
When: today...ish
Where: the bar
What: Miles is sad about his superboyfriend being gone, gets drunk with his aunt, weird family bonding occurs
Warnings: extreme moping
It's not often that Miles is in the bar when he's not tending to it, but tonight's an exception. Throwing himself into his work isn't always a viable coping strategy, as recent events have shown, but he doesn't have much else to distract him. Except for alcohol. It is the Vor way, after all.
Miles has been trying not to mope now that Clark's gone. He wouldn't call it moping, he'd like to think it's at least dignified misery, but let's be real here: it's moping. Slumped in a chair at the bar with his elbows just barely propped on the table, slowly nursing a glass of wine with a face the definition of morose, Miles is most definitely moping.
It isn't petty or out of a desire for theatrics, though. In fact, despite his exaggeration in all things emotional, Miles is being uncharacteristically untheatrical about it. No, this is just straight up brokenhearted. Resting his cheek against his good hand, he stares blearily at a small stack of files on the table in front of him with some vague intent to work, but all he manages is a sigh, and he reaches for his glass.