It had started innocently - or, rather, as close to innocence as he had ever truly come. A single, 330ml bottle of beer, and a worn deck of tarot cards. But it hadn’t taken long for him to grow bored of the foul taste of cheap alcohol, or repeatedly riffling his deck of cards. With ease, he’d convinced himself that the importance of hard liquor outweighed that of clean laundry, or soap. And so, it was with the money that would have funded said necessities that he’d purchased a bottle of Vodka from the nearest liquor store.
But Nemo quickly learned that the distributor of his alcohol had begun to subtract from the bottle’s size. He had stared down the empty container with one, straining eye in search of the liquid that had once filled it, but to no avail.
Soon, rent too was no longer of import. Followed shortly by food, which had been the only expense that Nemo had given up with reluctance. Until, alas, Nemo had littered the floor of his makeshift fortune teller’s tent with an assortment of various, emptied bottles. And it was on the same floor that Nemo too had crumbled in a heap of untidy hair and his shabby clothing, which that had absorbed the rank smell of his vise.
A customer had found him that way, and with wide eyes and a scream lingering at the back of her throat, she had gathered Nemo in her arms and apperated to St. Mungo’s. It was fortunate that Nemo had made the decision to drink the fatal drop whilst he’d been in the presence of folk of the same blood as he, for there was no other hospital that could have resurrected Nemo Omara that evening. Only those with magic on their side could have been of any surface to him at that stage of his desperation.
“Help! Please, help us!” the young witch shrieked as her knees connected loudly with the Hospital’s polished floors. Despite the fact that her lips had ghosted mere inches above Nemo’s right ear as she’d screamed, however, she was of no bother to him. Her every cry went unheard as his crumpled form remained limp in her arms. “He’s dead! Please – somebody!” the woman proceed, while Nemo dreamed of nothing but the darkest shade of black.