User blog:Stormlilly/e4m4

 Shaking, you head to the kitchen. Weren't there all manner of brandies and wines stored there? And indeed, when you arrive – you catch sight of several bottles, all made of beautiful glass and with equally beautiful labels. You grab the one nearest and pour yourself a stiff drink, drinking it thirstily.



 And suddenly, your throat burns – and not the familiar warmth of drink, but a literal heat rising in the back of your skin, burning away at the lining of your esophagus until you feel the walls of that organ giving out – and with a horrifying retching, you collapse to the ground spasming uncontrollably before going still.

