Muse: Volka Dalca || Blog (Please do NOT follow this blog)

Volka raised his eyes, tumbles of blond hair falling over the tired blue irises, as he leaned over the bar with a bottle in his left hand, stump of a right tucked to run along the edge, before his chest. Maybe he was drunk; he was getting there at the very least. Even that wasn’t drunk enough, he reflected. Not nearly as much as he wanted to be. Not that it helped; every drink only soured his mood a little more.

“What do you want?” He asked bitingly at the woman who had approached him, ready to argue, to fight if need better. To do what he could to make her go away. He preferred to be alone, as always. And yet people always seemed to want to approach him.