Epiphany at the Drunk-yard

[Miranda Frost]

Miranda's eyes narrowed upon Connor's form. During the battle he lacked hesitation in taking lives, whether they were Dragon or not. Only now did he regret? He was a fool, a boy playing war. As skilled as he was, he couldn't take it mentally. Sure unexpected events could hit harder than most, but what could be done? Sighing  she rested a claw upon  his shoulder, the sharp metal of her prosthetic hands digging into his clothing. With a quick movement she covered the top of the glass with her other.

 "You are drinking... to attempt to satisfy your own sorrows, your own regrets?", She grumbled, her face tensing as it came closer to Connor's before relaxing. The crimson light of her eye caught his and, like a wild animal confronted with bright light, froze. Her frown relaxed to a light smile, the large amount of alcohol she had consumed causing her pale face to redden. Her voice lightened and in Connor's ear she whispered, "It is that selfish attitude I despise most".

  Her grip tightened and her alternate claw moved from his glass to his shirt, the claws tearing and entangling themselves. With a surge of inhuman strength, she lifted him  off the  stool and stood, suspending him in the air. "We are going to have ourselves a little talk." With the boy secured in her clutches she exited the bar, the sounds of Connor's struggling grunts and cries drawing the nervous eyes of the bartender who decided best not to interfere.

 Once outside and a considerable distance away from the building, she dropped him to the ash at her feet. "You must have had a connection to Nealaphh to be hurting yourself this way, but is that really the answer? Do you really think wallowing in your drunken sorrow is going to bring Nealaphh back? Do you think he really cares? You dress like a soldier and fight like one... so man up like one." She sighed, her eye watching him  glare at her as he recovered to his feet and distancing himself from her.

 "If you care any about Nealaphh... you should learn to accept and trust his decision. For us primes.... Death is not a true reality. So...", Miranda started, placing an open claw upon her chest. "..I want you to transfer that sorrow for your lack of strength.. and convert that into true strength. Take your frustrations out on me, not yourself.", she spoke softly, her arm dropping to her side. She doubted that he could inflict any real damage to her. The only reason she took any during the battle was because of letting go of her guard and focusing only on brute force. 

 "If you choose not to... that is your own deal, but dont let me catch you misusing a good drink. Alcohol should be used for celebration, not for forgetting. Besides, lets be honest here, You weren't going to forget anyway."