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jheti
CHRIST MY HEAD HURTS.
I was not the only adult in the store crying when midnight finally struck.
A few girls in the restroom were complaining about our local psychonaut. He affects a British accent and has been creepily interested in me since I was fifteen. But he's like that with all the female customers of a certain shape, "Can I be of any helpout of your blouse drool drool?"
He's harmless, really, but they seemed reassured by my telling them so.
That's all I have to say about it, more or less, until the paperback's release.
To my chagrin, I'm realizing I haven't enough prompts left to cover the entire situation; I suppose that leaves the audience room to draw conclusions, or leap to them as it please their leisure.
#37 - Soliloquy
He hates her, his own mother, and there's never been anything whatever she could do about it; this family, her husband's family and her own, they all do, too, even Bella, she always means what she says; Remus will not come back to her, she knows, because he hates her too, and anyone would, everyone should, and why do years have to matter; no matter how many of them pass, she's still the youngest, wanted only for her looks, as pale and sweet and perfect as a funeral boquet.
#38 - Sojourn
He knows she can't hear him--wolves and near-wolves are built to be silent in winter--so she's a wide-eyed, rosy miracle of utter astonishment when he intones, "'Though the sedge is withered by the lake, and no birds sing'" and starts, then stops, half-frozen in the gesture of not quite reaching for her; his arms slap to his sides in the stillness as he waits.
#39 - Share
And once Narcissa's started crying, she can't seem to stop; Bella reels to her feet, hands fluttering and half-wrung-together as she stutters thick, dark noises about making the ungrateful brat see reason and stay for cake as duty to his family demands--Bella's napkin, crisp and unused because she drank instead of eating, does well enough for a handkerchief.
#40 - Solitary
Remus lets go of Narcissa's hand without even a trace of regret: he understands what wanting to be alone is.
#41 - Nowhere
Narcissa slips down the garden path and lets the slushing crunch of the gravel and the dreary chill of the slate-dark sky matter more to her than anything else.
#42 - Neutral
Draco gives a great, gagging exaggeration of a cough and shakes Remus' hand like he expects to contract the plague; Draco can't bring himself to do less, and dares not attempt more with his aunt looming unsteadily just over his shoulder--he will very definitely remain standing for the rest of the evening.
#43 - Nuance
Remus must have practiced; he's figured out a proper waltz since highschool, even the reverse lockstep chasse--for which Narcissa's shins are grateful.
#44 - Near
He realizes, suddenly, that when he listens for it he can hear Narcissa's heart stammering; the giddy rhythm underscores his own delight, and he smiles full-out, not caring who sees.
#45 - Natural
And this is right, precisely because it has nothing at all to do with logic, decency, or common sense; Narcissa laughs a little into his mouth.
I'm sore.
GOD, man! I'm trying to SAVE him!
I do not want to mow the lawn. >_
I was not the only adult in the store crying when midnight finally struck.
A few girls in the restroom were complaining about our local psychonaut. He affects a British accent and has been creepily interested in me since I was fifteen. But he's like that with all the female customers of a certain shape, "Can I be of any help
He's harmless, really, but they seemed reassured by my telling them so.
That's all I have to say about it, more or less, until the paperback's release.
To my chagrin, I'm realizing I haven't enough prompts left to cover the entire situation; I suppose that leaves the audience room to draw conclusions, or leap to them as it please their leisure.
#37 - Soliloquy
He hates her, his own mother, and there's never been anything whatever she could do about it; this family, her husband's family and her own, they all do, too, even Bella, she always means what she says; Remus will not come back to her, she knows, because he hates her too, and anyone would, everyone should, and why do years have to matter; no matter how many of them pass, she's still the youngest, wanted only for her looks, as pale and sweet and perfect as a funeral boquet.
#38 - Sojourn
He knows she can't hear him--wolves and near-wolves are built to be silent in winter--so she's a wide-eyed, rosy miracle of utter astonishment when he intones, "'Though the sedge is withered by the lake, and no birds sing'" and starts, then stops, half-frozen in the gesture of not quite reaching for her; his arms slap to his sides in the stillness as he waits.
#39 - Share
And once Narcissa's started crying, she can't seem to stop; Bella reels to her feet, hands fluttering and half-wrung-together as she stutters thick, dark noises about making the ungrateful brat see reason and stay for cake as duty to his family demands--Bella's napkin, crisp and unused because she drank instead of eating, does well enough for a handkerchief.
#40 - Solitary
Remus lets go of Narcissa's hand without even a trace of regret: he understands what wanting to be alone is.
#41 - Nowhere
Narcissa slips down the garden path and lets the slushing crunch of the gravel and the dreary chill of the slate-dark sky matter more to her than anything else.
#42 - Neutral
Draco gives a great, gagging exaggeration of a cough and shakes Remus' hand like he expects to contract the plague; Draco can't bring himself to do less, and dares not attempt more with his aunt looming unsteadily just over his shoulder--he will very definitely remain standing for the rest of the evening.
#43 - Nuance
Remus must have practiced; he's figured out a proper waltz since highschool, even the reverse lockstep chasse--for which Narcissa's shins are grateful.
#44 - Near
He realizes, suddenly, that when he listens for it he can hear Narcissa's heart stammering; the giddy rhythm underscores his own delight, and he smiles full-out, not caring who sees.
#45 - Natural
And this is right, precisely because it has nothing at all to do with logic, decency, or common sense; Narcissa laughs a little into his mouth.
I'm sore.
GOD, man! I'm trying to SAVE him!
I do not want to mow the lawn. >_
