Lorian staggered through the street like the stones were shifting beneath his boots, the world tilting just enough to keep him off balance without fully dropping him. The laughter from the plaza still rang in his ears, overlapping with voices that weren't there, voices that never shut up, no matter how far he ran or how invisible he made himself. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow, wine sitting heavy in his stomach.
'At least I can… talk to someone. Anyone.'
The tavern lights spilled out onto the street in warm gold, the noise inside loud and careless, everything he wasn't. He stopped at the door, hand hovering on the handle, suddenly unsure. Then he pushed it open.
His foot caught the threshold.
He fell hard, shoulder slamming into the floor, the impact knocking the breath out of him in a sharp, humiliating gasp. The tavern noise cut off instantly, conversations dying mid-sentence, chairs scraping as people turned.
Lorian lay there for a second longer than he needed to, staring at the wood grain, ears ringing. He laughed under his breath, thin and brittle, then pushed himself up, swaying.
That's when he saw them.
Atlas at the bar.
Seris laughing beside him, her hand resting easily on his arm. Ako leaning forward, loud and animated, Garruk standing behind them, taking up space without effort. And Atlas—Atlas smiling. Not smug. Not cruel. Just relaxed.
Something ugly twisted in Lorian's chest.
"Oh good," he muttered to himself, lips smacking together. "That short prick is finally talking."
His balance gave again and he stumbled forward, hitting the floor a second time, harder. The silence deepened.
"Lorian!" Seris said, already moving toward him. "Where have you been?"
He pushed himself up slowly, brushing dust off his clothes with clumsy hands, missing spots, overcorrecting.
"I'm okay," he slurred. "Just seeing the sights."
Ako huffed. "Great, I was having a good time until now."
Lorian turned his head toward her, eyes unfocused but sharp with irritation.
"Shut the hell up," he slurred. "Go kill another human poacher, you little shit."
Ako's eyes widened. "Excuse me?! I was joking..."
She sprang up, but Seris grabbed her arm.
"Woah, Lorian. Uncalled for."
Lorian laughed, the sound hollow. "Oh stop it, with this saint act. We're all pieces of shit. No one's buying it."
Seris' smile faded, concern replacing it. "Okay, that's enough. You're definitely drunk, so tell us where you've been."
Atlas grunted, lifting his glass. "Probably sulking or stealing."
SLAP.
Lorian's hand smacked the glass from Atlas' lips. It shattered on the floor, liquor spraying outward. The tavern froze.
Atlas turned slowly, eyes cold. "The hell was that for, Hybrid?"
Lorian's jaw tightened. "Shut up."
Atlas stood. "What the hell are you mad at me for? Because of your mistake?"
"Because of my mistake?!" Lorian laughed, harsh and humorless. "You shouldn't have handed me that damn briefing!"
"You said you read it," Atlas snapped. "Secondly, I only handed it to you because you were freaking out on the dragons back, I wanted to keep your hands busy."
Lorian shook his head, swaying. "I can't read Elven okay? I'm sorry that my goddamn 'leader' is so lazy he can't even read his own briefing!"
Atlas scoffed. "I'm sorry, I tried to give you purpose. I mean you're pretty damn useless but I thought even you could read a briefing. Imagine my shock when I find out you can't even read your own damn language."
Seris stepped between them, hands out. "Okay… let's calm down," she whispered. "People are watching…"
She glanced around. "You're both assholes, we know. Can we do this outside? Please."
"No," Atlas said.
"No," Lorian echoed, laughing incredulously.
"You're a small man, Atlas. A very small man."
He shoved Atlas in the chest.
Atlas reacted instantly, grabbing Lorian's arm and twisting it, a dagger flashing to Lorian's throat.
"Guys!" Seris yelled.
Garruk moved without speaking, guiding Ako toward the door. She protested once, then stopped.
Lorian stared at the blade, then back at Atlas, a crooked drunken smirk on his face.
"You feel better?" he slurred. "You feel strong?"
Atlas shoved him away.
Lorian pulled his own dagger, swaying. Seris jumped between them.
"Woah!"
"You short prick, I swear to the gods I'll—"
"Lorian you're just drunk!" Seris snapped.
She turned to Atlas, anger cutting through her kindness. "And you're out of line!"
"He started it," Atlas said flatly.
"You're like children," Seris sighed.
"He called me a fuck-up!" Lorian shouted.
"No one is calling you that Lorian…" Seris said softly.
"He called me hybrid!" Lorian shouted, pointing his dagger. "He won't even call me by my name! It's Lorian! He just wants to laugh at me like the rest of them, he does!"
"No one is laughing at you Lorian, you're just drunk."
"Sorry, I can't read elven okay?!" Lorian shouted. "Well, I didn't ask to be born! I didn't ask to be raised by my fae side! I didn't ask for my father to leave my family behind to die in some stupid civil war! He wanted to be some sorta…some sorta hero. Left us all behind and for what?!"
Silence crushed down on the room.
"You asked what I was doing?!" Lorian continued. His drunken slur worsened. "I was getting laughed at out there. They all called me a fuck-up and a hybrid, like I chose to be this way!"
He swayed, barely catching himself.
"Everyone laughs at me… and I don't stop hearing them… their voices they never stop! All they do all damn day is say how fucking useless I am!"
Seris' voice dropped. "Who's voices? Lorian?"
Atlas put his dagger away. The frustration in his eyes lessoned.
"My siblings…" Lorian muttered. "I… It's not my fault… none of this!"
He looked at Atlas. "It's your fault, not mine… nothing is my fault."
There was a pause.
"Grow up," He said coldly.
Lorian rushed him. "You piece of—"
An elven soldier grabbed him. "You need to leave. You're causing a scene."
Lorian struggled, elbow flying accidentally into the soldier's nose.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to—"
WHAM.
The punch dropped him.
Seris screamed. "You ass!" She kicked the soldier's knee.
Another soldier grabbed her and slammed her through a table.
Atlas' eyes widened, then hardened.
A bar fight had begun.