#isavi

A million years ago you asked for this, and I am finally getting to this. In case it was forgotten, the premise of this prompt was for the character to describe another while they were drunk.

“Savi?” Isaac asked with a lazily roll of his head toward the person who’d asked about the redhead. “As in the Savi? My Savi?” He laughed a bit, trying to figure out the best way to describe the girl, but all he could see in his mind was her sleeping figure in his bed as he tried his best to move about quietly and not wake her. She turned over to where he no longer was lying, her curls spreading across the pillow like a wild mane. It was nearly as wild as her, the lionhearted girl who battled her demons all day without anyone knowing. He knew, though.

“I wish she snored. It’d be easier to kick her out,” he admitted with a wry chuckle and a shake of his head. “Ahhh, what else can I say that won’t get me a beating if she catches wind of it? My best friend, that goes without sayin’. The Queen to my King of the Crows. God, she’s brave. She’s not dumb,” like him, “she doesn’t pretend she doesn’t fear anything. She knows what she’s afraid of. And she plows through it like a fucking warrior, you know? I’m gettin’ her battle paint for her birthday.”

He snapped his fingers suddenly as he sat forward. “Great writer, too. Gonna win the Pulitzer.” He shoved the person next to him who started to snicker. “Yes, you fuckin’ asshole, I know what the Pulitzer is! And she’s gonna win it. ‘Specially with a muse like me.”

Her first day at Clearbrook Academy. Savannah was still floating on a cloud, only too proud to have been sorted into the house she admired most out of all the five houses: Crowfall. Her years at university were going to be different than high school. Savannah had her powers back and she felt better than ever. Ever since their return, she'd been on an all time high and not much was able to get her down. 

The first night for a Crowsfall freshman wasn't the easiest. Each and every first year student was more or less forced to participate into a massive drinking contest. With Savannah's happy-go-lucky attitude, she wasn't one to decline. In fact, she was more or less determined to come out on top. To make sure her face was one her peers would be sure to remember, that her name would be one that came to mind whenever they thought of someone courageous, bold and fierce.

Knocking back glass after glass, many of her fellow freshmen had already perished in the battlefield of intoxication. Though Savannah wobbled slightly on her feet, she stood her ground, fearlessly staring up against her competitors who were all male with a massive height advantage on the redhead, who stood barely five feet and two inches tall. They looked at her with a mixture of surprise and hostility in their eyes. How was this tiny girl keeping up with them? They wondered. 

Savannah grinned brightly, toppling over her last shot glass on onto the table with a bold thud. Her fellow Crows cheered lavishly and loudly. Clambering up on the table, she looked down at the last man who stood before her, who looked downright sick to his stomach. Arching an eyebrow, eyes glazed over due to the sheer inebriation, a smug smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. Once he finally tumbled over in defeat, Savannah pumped her fist up in the air, welcoming the sound of ear deafening applause. 

As her vision panned through the crowd, her eyes fell upon an older looking guy, with a cute mop of curly dark hair who raised both his hands, pointing both his thumbs up in the air. Her grin widened for a moment, catching his gaze, watching him weave through the crowd and up to the table. The stranger motioned her to get down, and Savannah complied with little resistance. Though unstable on her feet, she launched herself downward and flashed the boy a silly grin once she stood before him, the height difference between them becoming all too apparent.

"What's your name, beautiful?" He asked.

Savannah rolled her eyes. Who did this guy think he was? Flirting with a girl who was as drunk as she was? What standards he must have.

"Savannah Thorne." She replied, eyes zeroing in on the half-empty bottle in his hand and latching onto it. 

"Welcome to Crowsfall, Miss Thorne. I’ll gladly offer a shoulder for you to cry on when I outdrink you." His confidence was something that spoke to her, his words easily words that could have left her own lips.

Savannah laughed in return, her head falling backward slightly as she shook her head, her read curls bouncing off of her shoulders. You can’t outdrink me." She simply countered, all too convinced that right now, in this very moment, she was invincible.

"Really?" The boy queried, mirroring the smugness Savannah was embodying this very moment. "I’m the King of the Crows, babe. Watch me. If you’re lucky, I might even take you out for another drink." 

Everything he'd said completely went past Savannah. There was one burning question she needed to ask. "Is there a pub around here?" 

The boy smiled brightly and nodded his head. What a smile he had, she thought to herself. "Yeah, it’s not too far from here. I’ll take you there tomorrow. It’s called The Huntsman."