Demkaih stumbled down the cobbled street of the Painted Ladies, weaving like a sailor in a storm. A half empty bottle of white rum hung from one hand, occasionally coming to his lips and spilling over his brown tunic. As he walked, the rumsoaked mugrobi muttered to himself in his native tongue.

"Could have stayed...Anaxas land of oppertunity...ha!" Tripping over a loose stone, he stumbled heavily, crashing into a familiar fence. Looking up, he pulled a face at the faded lavender house.

"You.." He said, straightening and pointing a wavering finger at the offending purple property. Blinking, he took another messy swig of rum, before turning, making his stumbling way down the road, finally reaching the darkened red spice house. Stopping outside he swore loudly at the house.

"What are you looking at? Do not judge me, you are a miserable wreck!" Frowning, the dark skinned man felt an anger rising inside. He threw the bottle at the house, glass smashing and liquid spraying all up the side. Staring up at the sky, he screamed in anguish.

"You do not hear me, you do not care! I am an honorable man, I do not stray from your path. Why do you tourment me? Why!?" His voice echoed through the district, people yelling for him to be quiet. Cursing, he kicked open the front gate, stomping down the path and shouldering the front door. It opened with a resounding crash, bashing loudly against the wall. Pushing over pots and breaking baskets, Demkaih proceeded to tear the entire shop apart with his bare hands, breathing hoarsly through grit teeth.

It was late, wet and slightly chilly. Annie pulled her coat tighter around her body to keep the cold out as she walked back towards the gates of Vienda, back to the comfort and warmth of her cousin's kint, and also to the food they most likely still had hot over the fires. She hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, thanks to a meeting she'd had with a potential source for a story she was working on. He said he'd had information on a chemical leak in one of the factories that had injured five workers, but it turned out he'd only wanted the free drinks that come with talking to the press. Mung clocker, Annie thought as she walked. Set me back three whole shills an' I ent got a tick t'show fer it. AND he made me miss dinner!

The streets were empty save one or two shaddowy bodies huddled against buildings, heading towards their own destinations. It was quiet, too. Annie passed darkened building after darkened building, houses with their windows shut tight and all the lights turned off...except for one. A red house with its gate flung wide, a recent wet spot splattered against its siding as if something had been hurled towards it, with sounds of angry grunts and breaking things filling the silence of the city. Annie wasn't certain if it was only one person or two, but either way nothing good was happening. Her flight instincts were kicking and screaming for her to leave it alone, not get involved, but her natural curiosity silenced it with a quick blow to the throat.

Annie crept through the gate and up the stairs of the house, towards the noises, her hands up and ready to block any projectiles coming her way. "Erm, hullo? Anybody about?"

The drunk mugrobi didn't hear the reporter entering his premises, he was too busy picking up things and smashing them. Stomping to the table, he picked up a chair and hurled it across the room with a yell. It wasn't making things better, it was just...it was...it was something.



Demkaih turned, frowning, breathing heavily. There was a figure in the doorway, a small figure. Laughing suddenly, he shook his head.

"No! There is nobody here anymore. I am a husk, a ghoul drifting through this place." Stepping backwards, he stumbled over debris, sidestepping drunkenly to avoid falling. Moving fowards again, he lurched towards Annie.

"I. Am. Nobody." He said in a low voice, deep with rage and pain, as he sounded out every word. Rubbing a hand over his shaved head, he huffed, catching his breath.

"Who are you, to come knocking at nobodies house? At night. With all that racket. You are either brave...or stupid."

"Some folks say I'm a bit o' both. Comes with the job, I s'pect. An' ye can't be nothin', er else ye wouldn' be able to throw stuff. Or talk." Annie looked around the darkened room. Her eyes were adjusting slowly, and she was beginning to see the extent of the damage.

"Hot dang! Did somebody come in an' try t'rough ye up er sommat? Ye ent...ye ent gone crazy, 'ave ye?" This place is torn t'bits! Annie mentally exclaimed. She was almost regretting her decision to investigate. Almost. "I don't think there's a single thing in 'ere what ent been smashed t'smithereens yet." She bent down to pick up what looked to be a simple ceramic mug off the floor. "'Ceptin' this. At least ye still got a mug, aye?"

(( SFSR! ))

Taking the ceramic piece from the woman, Demkaih looked it over, before chuckling a little and throwing it down.

"Yes, at least I have a mug. Perhaps you should come outside, my brave stupid friend. I do not wish to hurt anyone, and I do not think I am in a well state of mind right now." He said softly, breathing settling down a little as he stumbled past Annie and tripped on the threshold of the door, falling to the ground with a curse and a crash. Sitting himself up, he rested his head in both hands.

"No one has entered this home but me. I am not crazy..." He said it with a sort of uncertainty, bleeding down his arm from a freshly opened graze on his wrist, unaware in his state. This was not the same man that had landed in the Rose, this was...nothing.

The reporter shook her head in confused shock as she watched Demkaih blunder his way into an almost faceplant in the front yard of his own home. Drunk as a moa on Clock's Eve, that'un is. She was about to take a seat next to the man when she noticed his arm was leaking. "Hold tight, mister. I'mma see if'n I can't find somethin' fer that tear you just made in yer forearm."

Annie went back inside, picking her way carefully through the wreckage of what was once a rather nice place, so far as she could tell. Love. It musta been love. That's the only thing in th'world what can turn a man inter a turnip one mo' and a rabid badger the next. She reammerged with a scrap of cloth and started to bind the man's wrist. "I ent no medic, ye chen, I but I hear there's a good 'un not too far from here. Some bloke wit' a head full o' dreadlocks an' a pipe in 'is mouth. Can't fer th'life o' me amember his name, though."

Sitting on the next step up from the big man, they sat in silence for a few moments. The street was far quieter now that furniture wasn't being launched at the nearest wall; the only sound to be heard was that of their breathing. "I, uh. I know what yer feelin', mate," Annie murmured. "I knew a boy once when I weren't nothin' but a boch. His mam used t'visit Nata an' me once a month, an' she'd bring 'im with her. One day, I got brave an' brought him some flowers, an' he took 'em, looked at 'em, threw 'em on the floor an' stomped on 'em. He said he don't take nothin' from dirty, mangy half-breeds. I got so mad, I went outside an' kicked every last tree in our front yard as hard as I could," Annie furrowed her brow and held out her right foot. "M'toes still ent workin' all quite right, um..." she trailed off into silence again.

Demkaih watched the woman as she bandaged his arm, brows furrowed as she told her story. He knew the doctor she spoke of, knew Rex Manblade. It was not one place he wanted to visit in a hurry. As Annie trailed off, the drunk and heart weary mugrobi stared at her for a minute, as though he'd not comprehended a word she'd said. Finally, his creased brow smoothed and a quiet chuckle escaped his throat.

"It sounds like he was not worth your injuries, my brave friend." Sighing, he looked at the house, shaking his head.

"I was going to burn it down, everything inside reduced to ashes so I would never again have to return here. Perhaps, your appearance, was a good thing." His blue eyes blinked slowly, brow creasing again a little.

"But where do I go from here? I do not know myself anymore. I have become lost on the Great River, and I do not know how to get back." Demkaih wasn't sure who he was talking to..himself, the stranger in front of him, or the Water God he followed. Turning back to Annie, he moved his free hand to his temple, lifting slightly like he was raising goggles.

"My name is Demkaih Alkrim, my friend. I am sorry to have disturbed you tonight."

(( Sorry this took me twenty billion years! Heh. ))

"Disturbed it?! Hells, mister, yer th'most entertainin' thing what's happened t'me all week! I just come from a meetin' fer, um, work...which di'nt turn out t'be much uvva meetin', that's fer sure. Least I can do is make sure ye ent bleedin' no more...or burnin' stuff." Annie shook her head, chuckling almost silently.

"Pleased ter meetcher, Demky, th'name's Annie November," the reporter replied with a nod of her head. "Y'know, if'n ye had set it on fire, it wouldna lasted long. All th'rains we been havin' woulda just made it smoulder. Then ye'd be left wit' nothin' but a buncha wet beams what'd burn ye if'n ye touched 'em. Plus, the '10'd be out here in no time, an ye'da most likely ended up in a cell somewheres."

There was something familiar about the man, somehow, as if Annie had met him in passing once or twice, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. I'll think of it 'ventully. A few moments of silence passed where Annie couldn't think of anything to say (which was a first).

"I ent sure what ye mean by rivers er nothin', Demky, but I heard once that if'n ye take one paddle outta the water, ye'll end up goin' nowheres but in circles. Leave 'em both there an' just keep goin' if'n ye really wanna get to a place. Leastwise, that's what I heard once. Ent much fer boatin', m'self. Tends to make m'stomach a bit...jumpy."

Demkaih looked at her for a moment, unsure whether she'd just made a profound comment about life's arduous journey...or whether she'd just made a joke. Eitherway, he liked it. Smiling again, he looked at the house.

"You are indeed right, Annie November. It would have been a rather pathetic way to go out." Closing his eyes, the mugrobi could feel his head spinning. Quickly he opened them again and sighed.

"I have drunk far too much. Annie November, I would like to invite you inside my...home...for a glass of water, but I fear the wreckage is dangerous to feet and hands. I would not forgive myself if you were hurt by my actions." He stood, wobbily, and waited for the woman, unsure he could actually make it inside again without another fall. He needed to get inside, upstairs, and into bed. In the morning....he would have to think about what he needed to do. What he wanted to do. Was it worth rebuilding? Or should he just leave? The mugrobi swayed, rubbing his head in frustration.