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Tore through my notes in a fury last night. Slime, essence, putrescence, menace, penance. Cold as a hag's dug this morning. The faceless watching, perhaps lingering a little too near. Cleansing fire would help, but ran out of firewood. Too much pigeon blood on the logs, kept them from burning very well. Scraps made with the fourth year essays helped with the conflagration, though. Best possible use for them, to my mind.
Building up a tolerance might be wise. It's worth thinking on. A little stroll in the moonlight, a few feet nearer every time. Must dare to do what no one else will dare. Purity will be the cloak. Might keep me warmer, too.
Am wanting a bloody sandwich, there's no tidbit available, and there's never a bloody house elf when you need one.
(I'm saving yours for you, Justine.)
Building up a tolerance might be wise. It's worth thinking on. A little stroll in the moonlight, a few feet nearer every time. Must dare to do what no one else will dare. Purity will be the cloak. Might keep me warmer, too.
Am wanting a bloody sandwich, there's no tidbit available, and there's never a bloody house elf when you need one.
(I'm saving yours for you, Justine.)
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Re: I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good