Masks 2

Finn falls deeper into her chair. Ugh. This is... bad. This is getting worse. There's no heroic ideal folks can settle on. The newbies want something the old folks won't give. Things are just... getting bad. The bad shit is starting to hit her. Thoughts of people hurting. Thoughts of the tragedies she's had to dredge up. Thoughts of the disappointed and despairing families she's had to inform. Thoughts of hopelessness. Thoughts of loss. She thought maybe they would go away if they could come together and make things work. She saw all her legends in front of her. Surely if they were all here, something was to finally be done?

But that was not to be. The heroes were not acting heroic. The suffering was not going to end. The visions were not to leave. Her hopes were dumb. Very, very dumb - and she was starting to realize that.

So she did what she always did when it was time to confront the hopelessness and toughen up. She gave Orla a pat on the head and a smile, excused herself, and headed straight for the bar.

"Whiskey. Th'whole bottle, if ye will."

Pause.

"Make it two."