Post by Krähe on Dec 27, 2018 14:32:30 GMT -5
Krähe wasn't entirely clear on why he had Bob come back with him to the hotel, but he wasn't clear on a lot of things by this point.
On the way back they had stopped at the convenient store, and stocked up on anything that passed as Norwegian junk food. Wrappers littered the table in front of them, and their cups were never empty of wine for more than a minute. The fact that they were still using the same bottle of wine that the “angel” had appropriated from the church had just penetrated the haze of Krähe's mind.
Well that and the fact that Bob had been wearing an old blue jumpsuit with his name stitched into under his trench coat. He could honestly only hold onto one thing at a time by now though.
He couldn't even remember everything they had talked about, but oddly enough the bits and pieces he did remember were oddly profound. Somehow this had turned into one of the best Christmases he could remember having in...well he didn't really want to think about that now. Even the brush of certain memories could still suck out all the warmth in a room for him. He didn't want to let that warmth go tonight.
“Ey Bob, what's up with ta wine. Is tha a feckin neverending bottle?” A slight colorful accent displayed itself Krähe’s usually accentless speech, but Bob made no comment on it even though he was plenty sober enough to notice it.
“Sacramental wine, Zachariah my boy is a very-” He cut himself off with a hiccup. “Scuse me. Is a very powerful thing. Wine is'elf is like a miracle of of...God. Amen”
For the last part Bob raised his cup in toast before gulping down more wine. Krähe did the same without hesitation, and set his cup down to be refilled.
“Amen, know what though my mom was like tha damn wine bottle at Christmas. She was a true fecking miracle. No matter ow bad off or tight we were. She always made sure that she filled the season up with all the love an joy she could find. For her tha's a bottomless pit.” He paused to consider the wine in his cup, and the thoughts in his head.
“Maybe I ave a disdain for most self proclaimed heroes, cause I've seen the real thing. My mother is a real hero, and she doesn't need a belt or cape for it.” His voice was a heavy smooth rumble near the end of his little contemplation.
Bob for his part nodded sagely at his words.
“Your mother is that indeed. Ya know there are a few you wanna believe in though. What about Zombie and Zack?” He held his hand up to halt Krähe’s protest. “I know what you said, and I am not saying that you are wrong. I just also know that you hope you are wrong about Zack, and you want to be right about Zombie.”
He paused to take another sip of his wine, but Zachariah didn't take the short silence as a chance to protest. It was hard to argue with truth especially when drunk.
“That my dear boy is why him using that word dug under your skin more than anyone else. You wanted to expect more from him…Maybe it's time to put more of yourself out there Zachariah.” He said the words softly to the silent man in an almost grandfatherly type voice.
The voice almost felt like a lullaby to Krähe the words swelling around him, while the dim lights seemed oddly brighter in the dark. Somewhere in the hall people were singing a drunken rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas.
The moment was surreal, yet somehow each word managed to penetrate his mind. Even as his eyes grew heavier and everything seemed to dim.
“Sorry ya won't get yer wings Bob. I'm not gonna stop be'n me in one night. Prob never really, but ya know what? I like you better...than...Clarince.” His last words trailed off as the world suddenly went dark for him, and he slipped into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in months.
Bob smiled at him fondly and slowly stood to grab Krähe a blanket.
“Oh my dear boy, it was never about changing who you are. I think you have greatly underestimated us both, but that's ok you just rest tonight and dream. Tomorrow is Christmas.”
He covered Krähe with blanket, making his rest as comfortable as it could be while sleeping in a chair.
“Truth is I like you more than George. Sometimes people need a flesh and blood human more than a righteous hero.”
Somewhere in the night a small bell could be heard ringing.
[Off Camera]
On the way back they had stopped at the convenient store, and stocked up on anything that passed as Norwegian junk food. Wrappers littered the table in front of them, and their cups were never empty of wine for more than a minute. The fact that they were still using the same bottle of wine that the “angel” had appropriated from the church had just penetrated the haze of Krähe's mind.
Well that and the fact that Bob had been wearing an old blue jumpsuit with his name stitched into under his trench coat. He could honestly only hold onto one thing at a time by now though.
He couldn't even remember everything they had talked about, but oddly enough the bits and pieces he did remember were oddly profound. Somehow this had turned into one of the best Christmases he could remember having in...well he didn't really want to think about that now. Even the brush of certain memories could still suck out all the warmth in a room for him. He didn't want to let that warmth go tonight.
“Ey Bob, what's up with ta wine. Is tha a feckin neverending bottle?” A slight colorful accent displayed itself Krähe’s usually accentless speech, but Bob made no comment on it even though he was plenty sober enough to notice it.
“Sacramental wine, Zachariah my boy is a very-” He cut himself off with a hiccup. “Scuse me. Is a very powerful thing. Wine is'elf is like a miracle of of...God. Amen”
For the last part Bob raised his cup in toast before gulping down more wine. Krähe did the same without hesitation, and set his cup down to be refilled.
“Amen, know what though my mom was like tha damn wine bottle at Christmas. She was a true fecking miracle. No matter ow bad off or tight we were. She always made sure that she filled the season up with all the love an joy she could find. For her tha's a bottomless pit.” He paused to consider the wine in his cup, and the thoughts in his head.
“Maybe I ave a disdain for most self proclaimed heroes, cause I've seen the real thing. My mother is a real hero, and she doesn't need a belt or cape for it.” His voice was a heavy smooth rumble near the end of his little contemplation.
Bob for his part nodded sagely at his words.
“Your mother is that indeed. Ya know there are a few you wanna believe in though. What about Zombie and Zack?” He held his hand up to halt Krähe’s protest. “I know what you said, and I am not saying that you are wrong. I just also know that you hope you are wrong about Zack, and you want to be right about Zombie.”
He paused to take another sip of his wine, but Zachariah didn't take the short silence as a chance to protest. It was hard to argue with truth especially when drunk.
“That my dear boy is why him using that word dug under your skin more than anyone else. You wanted to expect more from him…Maybe it's time to put more of yourself out there Zachariah.” He said the words softly to the silent man in an almost grandfatherly type voice.
The voice almost felt like a lullaby to Krähe the words swelling around him, while the dim lights seemed oddly brighter in the dark. Somewhere in the hall people were singing a drunken rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas.
The moment was surreal, yet somehow each word managed to penetrate his mind. Even as his eyes grew heavier and everything seemed to dim.
“Sorry ya won't get yer wings Bob. I'm not gonna stop be'n me in one night. Prob never really, but ya know what? I like you better...than...Clarince.” His last words trailed off as the world suddenly went dark for him, and he slipped into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in months.
Bob smiled at him fondly and slowly stood to grab Krähe a blanket.
“Oh my dear boy, it was never about changing who you are. I think you have greatly underestimated us both, but that's ok you just rest tonight and dream. Tomorrow is Christmas.”
He covered Krähe with blanket, making his rest as comfortable as it could be while sleeping in a chair.
“Truth is I like you more than George. Sometimes people need a flesh and blood human more than a righteous hero.”
Somewhere in the night a small bell could be heard ringing.
[Off Camera]