Scariot wasn't particularly fond of alcohol.

Some of her coworkers may scoff at her if she ever mentioned this out loud, considering how often she visited this bar, but that's just how she felt.

As a mid-rank witch, alcohol has less of an effect on her. In order to get drunk, or even just a bit light-headed, Scariot would need to gulp down large amounts of drinks in a short time, an experience that wasn't too pleasant for a number of reasons.

Strong alcoholic beverages like absinthe were also difficult to find as they couldn't be sold freely in the city, becoming rare and expensive luxuries. So, unless she had plenty of disposable income, not a good option for a witch looking to intoxicate herself.

There were some less savory alternatives of course. Drinking down perfumes or some 'magically enhanced' items that came with unpleasant withdrawn side-effects. If Scariot ever reached for any of those articles she'd truly have hit rock-bottom, something she couldn't allow herself to.

So, she chose to get drunk in the atmosphere instead.

The dim lighting of the bar, people pouring out their hearts and laughing on the tables, recounting anecdotes and woes from their day, the subtle sounds of nightlife coming from outside.

Amidst it all she sat in the corner, savoring a strong, sour, bitter drink that made her tongue tingle. A stark contrast to most other witches who preferred to find elation in a sickly sweet flavor.

It felt calming, almost therapeutic. Paradoxically, the bustle and noise of the people let her feel immersed in the comfortable isolation of her mind.

That's the reason she'd go to Beulah's Bar on most days. For her, it was a form of meditation, a place that allowed her to self-reflect.

And today was not one of those days.

Today she just wanted to get wasted.

Which is why she was holding an entire bottle of vodka by her side. Should be enough to do the trick.

"Do you see? Wasn't hard to wait until night was it."

"Silence Maisie, don't you have other customers to attend?"

Maisie, the bartender, gave a brief look over the rest of the counter, then the whole establishment, and turned back to Scariot.

"You are the only sober person here besides me."

"Ugh...."

Scariot poured some vodka into her cup, then took an entire lime out of a plate in front of her and squeezed it using her bare hand over the glass.

Of course, she strengthened herself with magic.

"Incredible.... i'll never get tired of watching these antics. Isn't there a way for me to become a witch too?"

"If there is, I doubt it'd involve anything decent."

Scariot turned the glass over her mouth.

"So... what made you crave for the spirit today? Even earlier too."

Finishing the cup in a rather swift fashion, the woman pondered over what words to say next.

"Nothing much... just a regular tragedy. And this one shook me a bit is all."

Taking another lime in one hand, the bottle with the other, she repeated the process.

Scariot doesn't consider herself to be very sociable. Still, her line of work has her meeting a lot of different people.

Some of them act antagonistically, for obvious reasons. The vast majority is either indifferent or just annoyed by her visits. A few treat her well or even try to befriend her, mostly bored old ladies.

And for reasons beyond her understanding, children usually also get enamored with her. Maybe it's the atmosphere she exudes, or maybe it's just because she is really tall.

A particular one, a boy, emerges in her mind. An uncharacteristically cheerful and social boy who insisted on climbing her as if she were a tree whenever she had to pass by. One she even had the opportunity to watch grow for a couple of years.

One that is no longer in this world.

Indeed, really made one believe that Great Mother Terra breathed unconcerned over humanity's sorrows. Not as if Scariot was some pious worshiper anyway, for her Terra was a big round rock and not much else.

She decided to change the subject.

"Either way, when are you going to change the name of the bar?"

"Why do you think i would change it?"

"Because it's not your mother's anymore. Now it should be 'Maisie's Bar' shouldn't it?"

"Oh dear Scariot, have you never heard of branding? I'm not changing the name, neither will my daughter when she inherits it."

"You don't even have a daughter."

"I plan to, i just need to encounter a great man."

"Pfah! And where will you find him? Do you expect one to pass through those doors and order your most expensive drink?"

She took a swig of the lime vodka in her hands, before continuing.

"I know you wouldn't marry into a unit. Just pay for a night like everyone else."

"Here? You know any kind of whoring is illegal in the city."

"A stupid rule. But all that means is that you must go outside."

"I depend on every single day's pay Scariot. Who'll tend to the pub when i'm out? The rats?"

"Enough with the rats...."

Maisie observed as the witch finished the cup and repeated yet again the process of squeezing lime and pouring vodka.

"...are things that bad?"

"They ate lampposts... and their strange behavior claimed a few lives through infection and disease."

Including a kid - she omitted this last part.

The rats acted around a certain area at first, the one she had wandered earlier in the day for miscellaneous inspections. However, reports from other parts of town started appearing.

"...they ate lampposts....?"

"Hah! Absurd isn't it? Dailah's face was amusing at the time, she kept staring at the posts as if they were some type of slimy creature."

Not that hers was much better then either.

"The neophyte huh.... incidentally, what do you think of her?"

Scariot thought back to the girl.

In truth, when she heard a favorite of that stuck-up Mariane would be put under her wing, she didn't feel terribly positive about her prospects.

Some grumbly little academic girl, annoyed at the fact she'd have to get her hands dirty instead of sitting on a table to play with flasks all day. That's who she expected.

Then the rumors came, but she didn't take them too seriously. Maybe higher-ups exaggerating things, trying to prop up a new brave witch to make the association look good.

Finally, the girl appeared before her in a rather awkward encounter. And then...

"She's fine i suppose."

There is no other way to describe her. Young witches born out of common people tend to carry these dreams of grandeur and let the little power they wield consume their heads, yet she felt none of that from Dailah.

Just a normal girl with a flexible enough mind, willing to fulfill her role without being blinded by it.

A fine person.

"That's an amazing compliment coming from you."

"Enough with your quips, do you want to taste lime juice directly from the source?"

Maisie laughed heartily.

In the end, Scariot wasn't able to get drunk as she wanted. Immersed in the conversation, she consumed the alcohol too slowly.

But her heart felt lighter nonetheless.