#aumer

Morgana was dead. Her body, once terrible in its beauty and power, lay gutted and lifeless on the bloody battlefield, the prince who had slain her standing triumphantly over her remains. He was speaking, but Emrys barely heard him. Magic still crackled around him, off the tips of his fingers and the ends of his hair. He alone remained standing, untouched by mortal steel or iron, uninjured. He had a clear shot to the prince, but his life would be forfeit if he tried.

Another tequila slammer was passed to Arthur, he and his best mate Leon did the lick, sip, suck, Arthur so plastered already that there was no taste to it, beyond a bit of a burn. Leon looked ragged, his crazy hair sweatily scraped back behind his ears. "Great party." Arthur may have giggled. "The best. Another?" He gestured towards the tequila. "I may regret this tomorrow. If I live to regret it. I might die though. Then I won't be alive to regret it. But I'll be dead. Which I'll regret." "SHUT UP, Leon." "Okay." Two tequila's later, and Arthur and Leon were ready to prowl. They were ready to prowl like tigers. Really. For girls, though, not for game or deers, or bears. Arthur wouldn't really know the first thing about that kind of hunting. 

Then Arthur saw her. She was beautiful. Tall, lissom, long, dark hair sweeping over her forehead, almost but not quite covering her eyes. Arthur thought he saw a hint of silver eyeshadow, glistening over her blue eyes. Arthur was mesmerized, couldn't look away, and somehow had to put one foot in front of another to go and talk to her.