Do you miss the sands? That was a question that came to his mind nearly every day he was awake and alone with his thoughts. It plagued it like some gnat that he could never truly swat away for long. The thought was never too heavy on him to warrant deep thinking but never too light to shrug off. B'ren was never much sentimental man, but it never stopped him from missing home. Truth to be told, the Miqo'te hadn't been back in some years. Not even to visit.
"Going there now would be foolish, you haven't slept in days and eaten since yesterday afternoon. Just calm down will ya?"
"Not exactly as easy at it seems ya know."
"I wasn't talking to you..."
"Then whom? Me?"
"Shut UP."
The bottle was thrown, thrown with more than enough force to shatter it against the wall of the inn room B'ren found himself in for the night. Leve's were done and then he was here, more than he can care to remember. Visitors? There were none. Any poor soul sitting outside had the awkwardness of listening a grown man argue with himself and his rampaging, sleep denied brain. And that bed was looking mighty comfortable right about now.Â
If only the pillows didn't look like nails and the blankets of sandpaper.
