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| Author: | Yendys [ Wed Apr 27, 2011 3:04 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Lily's Journal |
(( This is an open RP thread, kind of. Her journal is kept in her (as of now, unlocked) trunk in the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory. If your character has the opportunity to be in there, and are the sort to snoop around and read people's journals, they have access to all this information ICly. If they write in the journal/mutilate it/steal it/interact with it and feel like telling, feel free to post about it in here. )) (( There would be entries for every day, but as I don't log in to her every day obviously I haven't written them all. Just fill in the blanks with mundane occurrences. )) April 8: There was a snake in the entrance hall tonight. Filthy, horrible, nasty thing. Living in the soil, then slithering into the hall, spreading the dirt all over. It was disgusting. And then the cat came, and cats are even worse. They lick themselves, you know. It's supposed to keep them clean, but it doesn't. It just spreads more germs, like the snake, but from its mouth to all over their fur. I could never touch a cat. Jes the Ravenclaw who knows conjuration, which is beautiful and I will have to write about it later, took the snake outside. Then a man came down, and he was kind of scary. He was holding the cat too. Disgusting. He told me he would make me clean toilets. He can't make me do that, nobody can. I missed curfew. I tried to make up for it, but I don't know if that's even possible. I hope it is. I make mistakes, so many mistakes, but does the good I do fix it? I try so hard. April 15: When I woke up this morning, somebody had thrown my towel in the loo again. I wish I knew who did it, so I could ask them to please stop. It's so dirty in there, even washing them won't fix it, I've had to throw them out. I'm going to write home to Mum for new towels, if I can persuade somebody to mail it for me. Maybe I'll find a hiding place for them. This morning, a nice girl named Amber(healing, protection, NOT A REAL STONE) let me borrow her towel that had just been washed, I made sure of it. I talked to her for a while, and I think I like her. She's not like most of the people here, who touch me when I ask them not to, or push me on purpose, or sneeze on me. I wish more people were like that. I've just been to Transfiguration, it was brilliant. This was the first class where we were allowed to attempt actual transfiguration. We had to turn a match into a needle. It was hard, one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do, but I did it. Professor McGonagall even held it up for the class and told them that it was the best. Maybe they'll stop hiding my stuff now that they know I might turn them into something. I saw the head girl, Necrolissica Crest, in the great hall this morning, eating breakfast. I asked her about what's been happening with my towels, but she couldn't really help. She doesn't seem to like her name, I'm not sure why. She wants to be called Liss, which is all weird and unbalanced. I think her full name is very beautiful, and there's no reason not to use it. But she doesn't seem to want to. Lunch now, and then Herbology next. Save me. April 26: (( This entry is composed almost entirely of dots of ink, of strangely uniform size and evenly spaced on the page. There a single line of text at the bottom. )) • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • If it comes only from boredom, does it mean anything? April 27: Conjuration is so beautiful. I wish we didn't have to wait until third year just to learn the basics of it. It's creating something from the pure impression in your mind. It's not as good as fixing what's wrong, but at least it's not making it any worse. I spoke to a Slytherin prefect, Lance Silverston. I've heard the name frequently, but I did not know that the silent person at the sign was who was meant. I asked him to conjure a chair for me, so that I could sit in the entrance hall and write this, because father suggested I should talk to more people and not just stay in my dormitory. But there are no chairs. Someone is here. • • • • Theodora. Called Alice. Wrong? I'm flawed, unreliable, imperfect. But wrong? Everything I know, everything I do...tainted? I don't know. It scares me. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Wed May 25, 2011 3:08 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Lily's Journal |
(( An uncreased letter is pressed loose between two blank pages of the journal. )) April 30, 2011 My dearest Lillian, It is right that you should be questioning yourself at this time, as the moon is darkening and the sign of the bull governs us. I suggest that you meditate upon your concerns, and write back with your conclusions once you've drawn them. Follow your path, which is always true and never to be doubted, to the answers. Your mother, as always, sends her love and regrets that she will be unable to visit for the foreseeable future. Your loving father, James Stewart May 4: Today I fixed something. Kind of. Amber helped me do it, because I couldn't by myself, but I understand what she did and I think I could do better next time. A girl, Editha, was working on homework in the common room, and when she finished she turned it over and started drawing on the back of it. I couldn't believe it. So I told her it was wrong, and why it was wrong, and I don't know if she believed me or not, but she did give it to me to fix. First, I tried by myself, and it didn't work. I know parchment, I write on it every day, but it was so hard to change just the very top part of it. It ended up all blotchy and even worse than it was before. But then Amber tried, and she got it a lot more faded, and it wasn't blotchy anymore. It still wasn't perfectly right, but it was better. But Editha found me later. At first I thought she was angry, and then she kind of attacked me, but I think she was trying to hug me. It was awful. I told her never to do it again. I don't think she understood me, though. Why can't people just not touch me? It's not that difficult to understand. May 13: Thirteen. Is it bad? 1 + 3 = 4. 1 1 2 3 5 8 13. The seventh. Thirteen cards in a suit. Four suits in a deck. Numbers say no. Eleven plus two. Twelve plus one. Letters, symbols for sound, though slippery and deceitful at times, agree. I don't think it is. I will consider this more. (( Another letter is pressed in the journal. )) May 16, 2011 My dearest Lillian, I would caution against combining the study of letters with the study of numbers. Letters are created by humans, and are fundamentally flawed in their nature. Numbers come from nature, and ultimately God himself. Your interpretations, while valid, can be countered: Subtract three from one and you are left with two less than none. When counting only the primes, thirteen is the sixth. And remember, daughter, in addition to the fifty-two cards you've accounted for, each deck also contains two misfits. Thirteen is, above all else, a number of misfortune. Trust your instincts, not your intellect, as the latter may deceive you. Your loving father, James Stewart May 17: He is wrong. I don't know it, I feel it. May 22: Every time I think that life here getting better, I am proven wrong. I don't hurt people, so why do they hurt me? I never even knew her name. All I know is that she is young, has red hair, and is in Gryffindor. After I washed the filth off - it hurt so badly, but I had to do it - I went to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey said that I had a concussion, a sprained wrist, and many bruises. If people would just leave me alone, none of this would happen. Why won't they just stay away? May 25: Nobody has ever told me that I was a cool person before. They don't like me. They take my things, and break them, and destroy me. Am I a fool to think that this girl could be any different than the last? I told her how things are, and she didn't hurt me or run away. But I'm still afraid. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Mon Sep 19, 2011 11:35 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Lily's Journal |
((A song for this entry/in general, I'm probably going to replace one of the songs in Lily's bio with this the next time I update.)) September 19: I am not my mother. I am half my mother, but I am not her. I do not want to be, ever. Take one part water and one part air, and mix it together into a frothy mess. You can not breath it, you would drown. But is she the water, or the air? Maybe that's why. I feel it creeping up on me, when I turn my back on it for a moment. A moment, a day, a year, a lifetime, repeated for centuries. Is it bravery or carelessness? I can not afford to be careless. I need to do what I must. |
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