Something like an adventure

It's 8pm. I should be doing some work but instead I'm away from hearth,

slaying a dragon in a rigorous journey to Windhelm, so I could slay some more.

The black leather chair strains silently under my hour-static corpse,

my flashlight to the ready,

just beside me so I can grab the purple potions from the fridge, found in the heart of Snapleg Cave.

Apple and Blackcurrant juice acts as my healthier alternative for alcohol,

a counterfeit race to intoxication as I throw my unfinished cup into growing collection of tankards and bottles.

this cannot be healthy for me.

My high-tech toys acts as my digital vitamins,

a nightly routine I roughly practice so I get my daily dose of sleep without the City of Solitude.

But I wake from the meows of pale brown cats,

I wake to a reply from a beautiful face,

and when I told her that she was beautiful, she said:

"Heard about you and your honeyed words."

She plays Skyrim just like me!

Now I'm wishing she was my pet.