"These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, they do not point on me."
December 25th
"Empty. What a cock-up," Cornwall muttered. He needed a drink - no, he deserved a drink. Since drinking the Fae potion to satisfy Regan, he was enduring a second adolescence ten times as potent than the first. If he hadn't yet been aroused by a hole in a fence, it was only a matter of time. The lust was like a headache. Relieving it was necessary, not pleasureful. For all the fucking he had done in three weeks, he hadn't enjoyed any of it. Drinking took the edge off the aching. "Goddamn it, my kingdom for a drink..."
