rowan "oh shit" cousland. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trudge) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-11-27 12:08 pm
trudge) wrote in driftfleet2017-11-27 12:08 pm
if you love me let me go (OPEN)
Who: Rowan Cousland and all the unfortunate souls he might run into
Broadcast: Text
Action: The Bishop, The Iskaulit, Probably everywhere else he's allowed.
When: Anytime after 11/23
It's been a little over a week since they returned to Orbit, and apparently that is too long for Rowan Cousland to be sober and left to his own devices. Zevran is around, and there are a few others who 'visit' his blanket-fort bedroom for idle romps. But none of them keep the nagging voice in the back of his head at bay. No amount of mind-blowing sex or company of any sort keeps him from thinking of everything that's happened. It was easier on the planet to forget, to not think about anything because there were cannibals to kill and people to protect. No time to think. No time to remember. No time to regret.
He had time now, though. Too much. Back home he never regretted anything he did, not even dying, but that had been easier when death was the last and final thing that came. Now, he was alive again, with the knowledge that his brother was alive and left alone. Once he had been the last Cousland. Now it was Fergus, and it was his fault. And Zevran —
No. He needed to forget. He needed a distraction. He needed alcohol.
Soooo much alcohol.
GUESS WHO'S DRUNK? I guess Rowan.
He starts off at The Space Bar simply because it had the word 'bar' in it. He's there every night for at least a week, for hours on end taking shot after shot and mug after mug of whatever he can shove down his throat. He doesn't have a lot of money on hand, but he has a silver tongue, crafty hands, and enough charisma to charm the fuck out of some other patrons if necessary.
He flirts with everyone of legal age and the more he drinks the more ridiculous he becomes. Which is saying a lot, because he's ridiculous to begin with.
If he recognizes someone, they're approached almost immediately by a likely inebriated Rowan — a drink in his hand and the most fake smile you've ever seen in your life. He pulls it off though, somehow. Years of practice? Definitely. He unceremoniously slams his drink on the table, sloshing whatever liquid is inside around onto the wood.
"Fancy meeting you here." He says with all the eloquence of a completely shitfaced sailor. "Buy a girl a drink?" But he already has a drink, you say? Rowan downs the remainder of his alcohol in one long swig, shaking his head afterwards as the fire hits his throat. Anyway, buy a girl a drink?
Alternatively, for those he doesn't recognize so easily — no, nevermind, there's no alternatively. He's doing the same thing.
He eventually migrates to Malum at some point, already drunk and probably kicked out for a) starting (finishing) a fight, b) hitting on the waitstaff, c) peeing in a corner, or d) all of the above. The neon lights are pretty and distracting; just what he needs during this long bender he's secretly hoping might end with him in a coma.
He tries to behave a little better despite his absolutely piss poor state of being, but it's all for not when he spots the beautiful shiny pole on the dancefloor. After asking around a bit on the true purpose of the pole, Rowan decides he's going to use it for its intended purpose. He shoves some broody nerd leaning against it - trying to chat up some uninterested woman. have some class - and promptly sheds his shirt, garnering the attention of everyone nearby. Disgusted? Intrigued? Slightly aroused? All solid responses to an inebriated man shimmying up an down the pole. He's not a great poledancer, but he's flexible and nice to look at?
THE BISHOP
Most of the time Rowan passes out in someone else's room, or in the hallway on some ship (the Bishop, the Iskaulit, somewhere else??), and it's only if he's really lucky that he ends up back in his own room. Even through a haze of alcohol the sight of the blanket fort still, for whatever reason, always seems to upset him. He remembers him and Zevran excitedly building it together, he remembers telling him that he and Fergus used to do this, and then he remembers the knowledge that set all of this off in the first place.
He should be happy. And he is! He's fucking ecstatic to hear that his brother is alive. But Rowan isn't. Rowan pissed his potential future away when he decided to be a hero. He throws the small bottle in his hand clear across the room, shattering it and letting the remaining contents trickle down the wall. It looks like blood - red, seeping blood that reminds him of home in the worst possible way.
He should be happy, but he isn't. Second chances don't matter if you piss them away, too. Lying and faking your way through them like you did the first time. He's pathetic.
TEXT
ANYONE DTF? ??? ?????? ?????? [ That's it. ]
( OOC: feel free to decide how drunk you want rowan to be when you meet him/when during his bender it is. or just wing it. if you want a specific scenario hmu @![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
winemom and we can discuss something! C: also you can switch to brackets if you want. )
Broadcast: Text
Action: The Bishop, The Iskaulit, Probably everywhere else he's allowed.
When: Anytime after 11/23
It's been a little over a week since they returned to Orbit, and apparently that is too long for Rowan Cousland to be sober and left to his own devices. Zevran is around, and there are a few others who 'visit' his blanket-fort bedroom for idle romps. But none of them keep the nagging voice in the back of his head at bay. No amount of mind-blowing sex or company of any sort keeps him from thinking of everything that's happened. It was easier on the planet to forget, to not think about anything because there were cannibals to kill and people to protect. No time to think. No time to remember. No time to regret.
He had time now, though. Too much. Back home he never regretted anything he did, not even dying, but that had been easier when death was the last and final thing that came. Now, he was alive again, with the knowledge that his brother was alive and left alone. Once he had been the last Cousland. Now it was Fergus, and it was his fault. And Zevran —
No. He needed to forget. He needed a distraction. He needed alcohol.
Soooo much alcohol.
GUESS WHO'S DRUNK? I guess Rowan.
He starts off at The Space Bar simply because it had the word 'bar' in it. He's there every night for at least a week, for hours on end taking shot after shot and mug after mug of whatever he can shove down his throat. He doesn't have a lot of money on hand, but he has a silver tongue, crafty hands, and enough charisma to charm the fuck out of some other patrons if necessary.
He flirts with everyone of legal age and the more he drinks the more ridiculous he becomes. Which is saying a lot, because he's ridiculous to begin with.
If he recognizes someone, they're approached almost immediately by a likely inebriated Rowan — a drink in his hand and the most fake smile you've ever seen in your life. He pulls it off though, somehow. Years of practice? Definitely. He unceremoniously slams his drink on the table, sloshing whatever liquid is inside around onto the wood.
"Fancy meeting you here." He says with all the eloquence of a completely shitfaced sailor. "Buy a girl a drink?" But he already has a drink, you say? Rowan downs the remainder of his alcohol in one long swig, shaking his head afterwards as the fire hits his throat. Anyway, buy a girl a drink?
Alternatively, for those he doesn't recognize so easily — no, nevermind, there's no alternatively. He's doing the same thing.
He eventually migrates to Malum at some point, already drunk and probably kicked out for a) starting (finishing) a fight, b) hitting on the waitstaff, c) peeing in a corner, or d) all of the above. The neon lights are pretty and distracting; just what he needs during this long bender he's secretly hoping might end with him in a coma.
He tries to behave a little better despite his absolutely piss poor state of being, but it's all for not when he spots the beautiful shiny pole on the dancefloor. After asking around a bit on the true purpose of the pole, Rowan decides he's going to use it for its intended purpose. He shoves some broody nerd leaning against it - trying to chat up some uninterested woman. have some class - and promptly sheds his shirt, garnering the attention of everyone nearby. Disgusted? Intrigued? Slightly aroused? All solid responses to an inebriated man shimmying up an down the pole. He's not a great poledancer, but he's flexible and nice to look at?
THE BISHOP
Most of the time Rowan passes out in someone else's room, or in the hallway on some ship (the Bishop, the Iskaulit, somewhere else??), and it's only if he's really lucky that he ends up back in his own room. Even through a haze of alcohol the sight of the blanket fort still, for whatever reason, always seems to upset him. He remembers him and Zevran excitedly building it together, he remembers telling him that he and Fergus used to do this, and then he remembers the knowledge that set all of this off in the first place.
He should be happy. And he is! He's fucking ecstatic to hear that his brother is alive. But Rowan isn't. Rowan pissed his potential future away when he decided to be a hero. He throws the small bottle in his hand clear across the room, shattering it and letting the remaining contents trickle down the wall. It looks like blood - red, seeping blood that reminds him of home in the worst possible way.
He should be happy, but he isn't. Second chances don't matter if you piss them away, too. Lying and faking your way through them like you did the first time. He's pathetic.
TEXT
ANYONE DTF? ??? ?????? ?????? [ That's it. ]
( OOC: feel free to decide how drunk you want rowan to be when you meet him/when during his bender it is. or just wing it. if you want a specific scenario hmu @
text -> action
[Wolfe has a cursory familiarity with the Bishop given that Anders was stationed there briefly before they'd both been transferred to the Tourist. As such, they're there pretty quickly, both a dressed down in casual clothing. Wolfe in particular has taken to purchasing loose shirts and whatever he can find that looks like a jerkin to wear over it on planets where shopping is an option and he's wearing one that he finds comfortable now. And easy to remove.
Giving Anders a glance and a smile, Wolfe motions to the door to give his partner leave to knock.]
action
He was dressed simply, preferring loose clothing that draped on him more than fit him and he'd left his hair untied, figuring it would likely be easier in the long run, letting it frame his face down to his chin.
He threw Wolfe a smirk and knocked on the door to let their companion know they'd arrived.]
Rowan?
no subject
Said disaster makes his appearance not long after the final knock. Rowan stands with his shirt off, his pants half undone, and a clear blur of red across his cheeks. Shitfaced doesn't even begin to describe how far gone he is currently. ]
Andraste's tits you actually showed up! This is the best night ever.
no subject
Well, Wolfe may not have the sense of smell of his namesake but he sure can smell Rowen from here. There's at least three kinds of alcohol he can recognize on the Warden's breath. Whatever happens tonight - and sex just became a lot less likely seeing the state of him - Wolfe is fairly certain that Rowan won't remember anything of it in the morning.
Hawke glances at Anders, seeing if his partner is on the same page.]
Well of course. It's rude not to show up when you've accepted an invitation.
no subject
Can we come in? If that invitation's still good...
[Rowan had refused Anders' more practical skills earlier. The regret probably hadn't set in enough to change the other Warden's mind. Probably something to do with that stamina of theirs.
No, they'd have to ambush Rowan. For his own good.]