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hh_mirror2006-02-17 07:56 am
sensiblesusan.livejournal.com) wrote in hh_mirror2006-02-17 07:56 am
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Susan Sto Helit and the Hangover of Doom
((RP open to members of Ravenclaw House))
Getting magnificently drunk had seemed like a good plan at the time. But even the granddaughter of an anthropormorphic personification can only drink so much before simply dozing right off, and somewhere after glass number six, Susan had fallen soundly asleep, curled up in the armchair in front of the fireplace.
She woke in the grey dawn, stiff and sore and with a head that felt indescribably awful. "'lo, Bilious," she muttered, trying to crack a joke, but the attempt only made the throbbing worse.
Adding insult to injury was the realisation that her memories of Tuesday's events were thoroughly undimmed. Clearly, to achieve an appropriate state of anaesthesia, a state of constant intoxication would be required ... and that truly wasn't Susan's style, so she was going to have to learn to live with it.
Enough of that; thinking about it drove the headache to blinding levels -- in the meantime, she was still wearing yesterday's grass-stained skirt and torn stockings, and she need to wash, and maybe see if they had any interesting hangover cures. She tidied up the bottles, picked up the Nimbus (at least she had that to be grateful for) and headed off to the dorms.
Getting magnificently drunk had seemed like a good plan at the time. But even the granddaughter of an anthropormorphic personification can only drink so much before simply dozing right off, and somewhere after glass number six, Susan had fallen soundly asleep, curled up in the armchair in front of the fireplace.
She woke in the grey dawn, stiff and sore and with a head that felt indescribably awful. "'lo, Bilious," she muttered, trying to crack a joke, but the attempt only made the throbbing worse.
Adding insult to injury was the realisation that her memories of Tuesday's events were thoroughly undimmed. Clearly, to achieve an appropriate state of anaesthesia, a state of constant intoxication would be required ... and that truly wasn't Susan's style, so she was going to have to learn to live with it.
Enough of that; thinking about it drove the headache to blinding levels -- in the meantime, she was still wearing yesterday's grass-stained skirt and torn stockings, and she need to wash, and maybe see if they had any interesting hangover cures. She tidied up the bottles, picked up the Nimbus (at least she had that to be grateful for) and headed off to the dorms.
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((Oh, I do love Pratchett's sensible women! ))
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With an awkward nod, the Doctor tottered off. To his own bed, thankyouverymuch.