The sheet he's holding is an avalanche of text you can't read. "Curious about my papers?" Sibnele asks, sipping his water.

I nod trying to look at it but failing miserably.

"Heh, okay." Sibnele lays the paper flat on the desktop. "From what I've been told, I wrote a lot of journals when I was younger. Probably because I was. . .alone." He shakes his head. "I don't really remember that, though. I just know that I'm. . .me, and that's the only thing I recall. That I've always been like this." Sighing, he puts his head on desk. "I really wish this existence was just a bad dream sometimes."

I look at him and sigh curious how he didnt know it was ne the entire time but decided not to say anything.

Sibnele glances at the water cup, which is almost empty. Slowly, he grabs another full bottle of alcohol. "Being drunk feels a whole lot better," he mutters. "Nothing's depending on me, then." He pops the top.

I squeak at him eyes narrowed at the alcohol then I sigh knowing i couldnt do anything about it.

Sibnele puts it back on the desk, hand still on the bottles neck. His face is still flushed as ever - if it weren't for the fact that he was immortal, this level of alcohol probably would've killed him. "What, something wrong?"

I shake my head and sit down studying the paper not noticing that my scales were now shifting colors from the vlue to purple to green and back to blue.

There's not much you can understand on the yellowed paper. The only thing that translates to you is a stick figure drawing of a child at the bottom.

"I think I might. . .take a nap. . ." Sibnele mutters. "Otherwise I'll just fall over leaving." He crosses his arms and plops his head on them, sleeping like he had earlier.

I curl up as well and close my eyes sighing.