#miinstrel

Roland’s spun around and around on the shining eve of his birthday, and the booze flows freely, and the bar is teeming with good food, good spirits, and happy, ruddy faces.

Roland swings his arm around the waist of his friend, his singing Partner, his sweet-faced duetess, and kisses her on the mouth, and spins her and actually kicks heels together, and goes back inside the group’s revelry!

a hug + kiss combo.

MEME | @MIINSTREL​

Probably literally gave Maryden all the money she had on her at that time to play the most annoying songs she could think of for the rest of the night.

OR

Send 😍 if your muse finds mine ATTRACTIVE | Not accepting

His alcoholism hasn’t gone down the short road of ingenuity recently, with the holidays come-and-gone, and Roland abruptly ‘wakes with a stomach full of acid and hot iron in his mouth.

With his eyes sealed with gunk and a fraught head full of dreams, of screams, of ripped bellies and the surprised look of his father’s face as he blinks his last through the sword, Roland starts completely out of his cot, and hits the ground with a painful, heavy thud, near the wall and bounce’d off from it.

He yelps loudly; clutching his chest dreamily, both inward and Outward. His eyes reflect the Moon, and his skin is cold and wet.

“What?” sputters he, and he looks up to Maryden for answers. ‘Tis in the middle of the night, near the morning hours, and Roland wants for a fresh bucket. “What happened?”

attraction

@miinstrel

Roland laughs heartily and meanders o’er Maryden’s way, fully inserting Himself into this spiritual Predicament.

“Which art thou making?” asks he helpfully. He takes a bowl with a good bit of batter still scraped ‘long the edges, and he eyes the mixture curiously. He reaches in with a pointed finger, and he tastes it. His resulting expression is politely sour, yea.