(no subject)

[alt_amycus]

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.)

Comments

Re: I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

[alt_sally_anne]

Maybe the Dementors actually got him years ago and that's what's wrong with him?

I heard they can suck our your soul but no one seems to know what happens THEN. Just that people who have their souls sucked out don't die.

Re: I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

[alt_ron]

Ugh.

Maybe. Though I thought that people who'd been Kissed just sat in their chairs and moaned.

That's mostly what they do in the Brotherhood of Secrets books, anyhow. Or stumble around in dark parts of New London where they haven't cleaned out all the Muggle stuff. When they walk they kind of shuffle along, so you'd hear them just before they come out of the shadows behind you.