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Dyou r EMbr whe n
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Yu
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stoRIeses?
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done to death
Nov. 15th, 2009 01:48 amI can't sleep. I can't scrub myself clean enough even to sit in my own flat, so I've been walking for hours. The locals are all closed now; I can't even hide in the depths of another glass of fire-whiskey in a smoky corner. I'm writing beneath a street lamp, but the page is swimming.
I didn't want to do that! None of it.
I don't want to have done it.
And I can't undo it now. Any of it.
If I could
Even if I could reach all the way back to when it was not yet done. When was that? A dozen years? More.
You knew what you were about when you limited my wand to block any self-harming spell. You know I won't top myself like a Muggle. Of course not. As though I'd care at all the moment it was done, but I'm too proud to be found like that. Too much a Black. Too much a wizard. Too much yours to do it at all.
But I want it. Oblivion. Pitch blackness. Rest.
I can see her. Jaw wrenched open and aside. Eyes wide, locked on mine. And I can hear her.
She begged me.
And I was stone. Like you.
'It makes it worse, begging,' I said. 'You save a shred of dignity if you can keep from doing that.' It's all shreds and tatters in the end, regardless.
I couldn't stand it. I can't.
I won't. Though that's ridiculous, because, of course, I did. Did it, hating it, cursing it, myself, him, you, her, all. Why do we do this? What do you want that I haven't given, proven, purged? What else?
I wish you wouldn't answer that, but you will. Whether I asked or not. The answer is coming. Worse if you are displeased, but no easier, really, if you found it praiseworthy. Each is worse, more impossible, more
There aren't words for this. But you'll know it whether I write or don't write, and the thoughts are clearer, I know. But the words are mine, for myself, to make it real. Finished.
It won't ever be finished.
I didn't want to do that! None of it.
I don't want to have done it.
And I can't undo it now. Any of it.
If I could
Even if I could reach all the way back to when it was not yet done. When was that? A dozen years? More.
You knew what you were about when you limited my wand to block any self-harming spell. You know I won't top myself like a Muggle. Of course not. As though I'd care at all the moment it was done, but I'm too proud to be found like that. Too much a Black. Too much a wizard. Too much yours to do it at all.
But I want it. Oblivion. Pitch blackness. Rest.
I can see her. Jaw wrenched open and aside. Eyes wide, locked on mine. And I can hear her.
She begged me.
And I was stone. Like you.
'It makes it worse, begging,' I said. 'You save a shred of dignity if you can keep from doing that.' It's all shreds and tatters in the end, regardless.
I couldn't stand it. I can't.
I won't. Though that's ridiculous, because, of course, I did. Did it, hating it, cursing it, myself, him, you, her, all. Why do we do this? What do you want that I haven't given, proven, purged? What else?
I wish you wouldn't answer that, but you will. Whether I asked or not. The answer is coming. Worse if you are displeased, but no easier, really, if you found it praiseworthy. Each is worse, more impossible, more
There aren't words for this. But you'll know it whether I write or don't write, and the thoughts are clearer, I know. But the words are mine, for myself, to make it real. Finished.
It won't ever be finished.
(no subject)
Nov. 6th, 2009 11:52 amYes. I see that I shouldn't make plans as though my schedule were my own.
But Skye, Marlowe Sands, Ely, Telford, Luton and Basildon--all today? Fortunate that I never feel much like eating after I've Apparated. Once.
At any rate, the first two are done, and I'm in Ely somewhere. Damned if I can find anyone to ask directions from, though. Place looks utterly deserted. Not much reclamation here, I take it.
Were you not pleased with your birthday present, then? I had thought it met all of your specifications. Was it the timing, perhaps? You'd have preferred I wait? I'm afraid I wasn't in control of that. Was it the packaging? Too gaudy? You do realise that I can't do better if I don't know how I've failed.
Right. No time for moaning in this itinerary.
Or, actually, there may be. Still too dizzy to walk.
There's not a train to Telford, is there?
I didn't think so.
But Skye, Marlowe Sands, Ely, Telford, Luton and Basildon--all today? Fortunate that I never feel much like eating after I've Apparated. Once.
At any rate, the first two are done, and I'm in Ely somewhere. Damned if I can find anyone to ask directions from, though. Place looks utterly deserted. Not much reclamation here, I take it.
Were you not pleased with your birthday present, then? I had thought it met all of your specifications. Was it the timing, perhaps? You'd have preferred I wait? I'm afraid I wasn't in control of that. Was it the packaging? Too gaudy? You do realise that I can't do better if I don't know how I've failed.
Right. No time for moaning in this itinerary.
Or, actually, there may be. Still too dizzy to walk.
There's not a train to Telford, is there?
I didn't think so.
(no subject)
Oct. 18th, 2009 09:20 amI received your command.
What is there to say but 'Consider it done'?
Only.
I know, this will wait. A few days gone will make little difference.
Only.
No. You command, and I am yours
only
What is there to say but 'Consider it done'?
Only.
I know, this will wait. A few days gone will make little difference.
Only.
No. You command, and I am yours
only
