Rehabilitative leave is what they call it; sticking Morgen in a garrett apartment a block from the guardhouse in a quiet little academy town just outside the capital, with check-ins every other day, a thrifty allowance of small coin, and no business but to relax, answer questions, heal his mind, and try not to be assassinated by his old relatives.
Morgen loathes it, and so of course he swans about the square in a constant performance of languid delight; making bargains to get more with this stipend; drinking heavily all hours of the day and night, and sketching his nightmares with a disturbed fixation.
Two weeks in, his case officer informs him of a new appointment, twice-weekly, and naturally, he arrives to it half an hour late and smelling like the bottom of a bottle of wine.
"Hello, love," he says, waggling his fingers in greeting. "What did you do wrong to get assigned to the Fiefdom of Bore?"
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I. Morgen of No House In Particular and Thorne of Charis.
Morgen loathes it, and so of course he swans about the square in a constant performance of languid delight; making bargains to get more with this stipend; drinking heavily all hours of the day and night, and sketching his nightmares with a disturbed fixation.
Two weeks in, his case officer informs him of a new appointment, twice-weekly, and naturally, he arrives to it half an hour late and smelling like the bottom of a bottle of wine.
"Hello, love," he says, waggling his fingers in greeting. "What did you do wrong to get assigned to the Fiefdom of Bore?"
Re: I. Morgen of No House In Particular and Thorne of Charis.