just take it in stride

It was nighttime, so of course Lochlann had been drinking.

He wasn't drunk per se--that was getting harder and harder to do--but he was definitely buzzed. After the incident with Addy, he'd agreed to lay off the sleeping pills and the sedatives, too. It wasn't really an issue--after all, it's not like he was addicted or anything.

He just couldn't sleep without them.

Not sleeping meant staring at the four-walls of his tiny apartment. Staring at the four-walls of his tiny apartment meant introspection. Introspection meant remembering that he was a horrible monster. Remembering he was a horrible monster made him want to go to sleep and pretend he wasn't. Wanting to go to sleep made him want to open the drawer, but he couldn't, because he'd promised Addy.

So here he was, in the middle of the night, walking through the downtown without any indication of where he was going or what he needed to do to clear his foggy head. A few times, he swore he could almost hear whinnies, but he ignored them. It was probably his brain playing tricks on him.

He was certain his brain was playing tricks on him again when Lochlann rounded the corner and was face to face with--

himself?

It caught him so off-guard that he lost his balance and when the horse reared to a stop and bumped into him, it was enough to knock him on his butt.

It took Lochlann a few moments of staring to realize it was just a horse. He nickered at it in greeting. His dark eyes were so focused on the horse that it took him a minute to realize that he was being asked a question.

"... Are ye alright?

"Ah....yeah, I'm good, sorry," Lochlann said. "I guess I just didn't see you coming. You had to stop suddenly--are you okay, too?"

"Unharmed, thank you. This is nothing a horseman can't handle on her own," she said. A moment passed then she turned to to face Lochlann again, "Scaith doesn't seem to welcome you, though. Who are you?"

"I'm glad to hear," Lochlann said. For some reason, he had goosebumps when she said horseman. He ran a hand through his dark hair and was slowly picking himself up, standing again in front of the horse.

Behind his glamor, Lochlann's ears had flattened to his head. The horse did not like him. It wasn't surprising--waterhorses might mate or eat a horse depending on their mood and since both of them were male...The horse had to know that Lochlann was a predator.

"Probably because Scaith is a dick," Lochlann said without thinking. His distrust of men wasn't limited to the human population.

"Sorry," he said, but he was apologizing to Aisling, not the horse who had almost ran him over. Lochlann was starting to get an inkling that maybe, just maybe, Scaith had done it on purpose. "I'm Lochlann."

"I see you both are on unfriendly terms,"

"It appears so," Lochlann said, taking a few steps back from Scaith. He tossed his head unintentionally, mirroring the movements a horse might make. He didn't quite stomp his feet, but Lochlann tilted his head and snorted.

What a dick.

"Careful or you'll be a gelding," Lochlann whispered to Scaith. He turned his attention back to Aisling, looking surprisingly innocent.

"'Lochlann', now, is it?" "A fine name. People call me Aisling."

"Aisling," Lochlann said, testing out her name. He hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to ask her something and he did---her name made him hesitate because it just had the hint of home to it.

"I'm glad you're okay, Aisling," Lochlann said. He couldn't help it--he eyed her figure and wondered what was under that viel. There was something about her that he felt drawn to and he couldn't explain it.

"You're unusually close to Death, don't you know?

He took a step back despite himself, surprised. Unfortunately that put him a little bit closer to Scaith.

"Excuse me?"

Scaith took a lunge at him, but Aisling stopped him at the last minute and Lochlann didn't even try to move. It was something of a cocky gesture, the way a coyote might strut past a chained dog just because he knew the dog was restrained. Owned. Captive.

Lochlann was broken in many ways but that wasn't one of them.

"It's exactly as I say. It's like you're just dancing along the line between life and death — and you should know that's not exactly a very wide path to be in. Have you had any near-death experiences as of late?"

The first thing that came to mind was Scaith nearly biting him and that's what Lochlann thought she was referring to at first. It took him a minute to have the accident come to mind, and what Azerial had said about his liver.

"That's impossible," Lochlann said, crossing his arms. "I'm completely fine. I think I'd know if I was dying."

He eyed Scaith again and said, "How would...how would you know anyway?"

Lochlann eyed her amulet, focusing on that instead of the veil. The glowing had caught his attention. He’d had an amulet to help keep him in his human shape—he mother had given up the most precious talent she had to procure it, and it’d been stolen for almost two years now.

”Is that amulet…fae?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He was very interested in the woman standing before him, though his curiosity was deeply tampered by Scaith’s presence and the subject of his own mortality.

He should be dead already.

It mirrored what they told him at the hospital and it explained why, no matter how hard he tried, he could see no possible future for himself. He would have asked more questions, fallen into the trap, and honestly, if he was caught offguard enough, he’d ask her what he’d need to do to get to the otherside.

But then Scaith.

Ugh. Scaith. What a horrible name. He thought of other things that were Scaith-like: scabies, scabs, scancer…umm….smores. He wasn’t sure what smores were but they were probably equally gross.

”Are you trying to pick me up?” Lochlann asked suddenly. ”The…’you should be dead, your time is coming, spend your last night live with me’ kind of approach is a little bit morbid, but since you look like you’re into morbid, I can forgive you. Can I buy you and Scaith here a drink?”