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Mar. 17th, 2011 12:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spokeSo. Work is still crap, though other things have improved. Allergy season has come, with all the pretty flowers. :P
Though I do love the jessamine, which is already fading.
Writing that I got finished up yesterday: work on the Despicable Me/Harry Potter crossover that started as a drabble for Yuletide.
Midnight, or close enough. It’s pitch black inside Miss Hattie’s Home for Girls, and almost everyone is still asleep.
In the Box of Shame, Margo is seething too much to sleep. It wasn’t her fault Lizzie’s hair caught fire. She didn’t care what the little monster said. ...okay, so she couldn’t think of anything that might have caused the fire. It wasn’t like anybody had been playing with matches or something - she’d asked Edith, and there definitely hadn’t been any.
She frowns, shifting her weight back onto the wall, which is as close to comfortable as the Box ever gets - and that’s when she notices the owl. Sitting in the front of the Box.
She blinks a few times, and rubs her eyes for good measure. It’s pretty late, so she’s probably imaging it. “When I open my eyes, I’m not going to see anything.”
Except there’s still an owl there, patiently holding a letter in its beak, sort of staring at her maybe. It’s hard to tell in the dark!
“Ummm. Shoo?” she makes a few flapping motions with her hands, which feels completely ridiculous but is still better than the hideous shrieking she’s going to hear if Miss Hattie finds this thing. “Come on! Miss Hattie is going to freak!” and she’s not grinning at the thought, because it isn’t funny, but she’s suddenly really glad that Edith and Agnes aren’t in here. “No owls allowed, go away! ...I’m talking to an owl. I’ve finally snapped.”
The owl, which maybe is a figment of her imagination if she has gone crazy, actually looks sort of offended. Although she’s not sure how she can tell, since it doesn’t have any expressions. After a minute of mutual staring, it finally hops over and offers her the letter.
Margo sighs, burying her face in her hands. “If I read this thing, will you go away?”
The owl offers her the letter again.
“Oh fine.” she lifts the box and snatches the letter, half thinking Miss Hattie’s going to come in and see it. Then she starts to read the letter, and has to bite her lip.
‘I’m magic.’ is her first thought.
‘I did set Lizzie’s hair on fire!’ is her second, and she stifles a giggle. Mustn’t get caught still up and um... taking mail deliveries from owls. Utterly crazy as that still sounds.
For a few long minutes she just thinks. About her sisters, and the orphanage. About what this could mean for thier futures. About the dangers of Edith with a wand in her hands. Or Agnes for that matter, but Agnes wouldn’t do it on purpose. Much. She was still a biter, though.
Then she looks at the owl. “I don’t have an owl. Can I send a reply with you?”
The owl blinks. Which is probably the only reply she’s going to get. “Okay, I’ve just got a quick question.”
***
The next night, the owl lands outside the window of their room. She sneaks over to it, careful not to wake her sisters.
She almost rips up the letter when she sees the answer.
The letter the owl brings back to Hogwarts has one word, scrawled in capitol letters that look as if the hand that wrote them had been shaking.
NO.
“Is that a Muggle?” some little blond snot asks, and Edith is about to answer when Dad pulls out the Freeze Ray.
Somebody must’ve done something, because Agnes is frowning and Margo has her wand out even though she doesn’t know how to use it yet. Like it matters. Freeze Rays are just as good as magic, anyway. So the creep in front of Dad goes down in a block of ice, which is the cue for all kinds of panic.
Sheesh. Like they’ve never seen someone frozen solid before.
Between the yelling and the people running and all, you’d have thought the little snot would be gone, but he’s still there when Edith stops laughing. So she smirks at him, over her folded arms, and announces:“That’s my Dad.”
After a moment, since he still hasn’t left: “Is Muggle an insult?”
She’s still laughing at the way he stomped off when Gru notices she snuck off and calls her back.
Writing plans for this year include really getting serious about tackling my backlog of works-in-progress/things I wish I'd started. To that end, yesterday I reorganized my writings folder too! Now instead of it just opening to a bunch of folders with everything I've ever written for, most of it really old poetry? All the stuff that's just poetry/I have no intention of trying to write for is tucked into a new folder labeled 'old stuff.'
Because I am super-creative like that. *shuffles off to playing more Pokemon*
Though I do love the jessamine, which is already fading.
Writing that I got finished up yesterday: work on the Despicable Me/Harry Potter crossover that started as a drabble for Yuletide.
Midnight, or close enough. It’s pitch black inside Miss Hattie’s Home for Girls, and almost everyone is still asleep.
In the Box of Shame, Margo is seething too much to sleep. It wasn’t her fault Lizzie’s hair caught fire. She didn’t care what the little monster said. ...okay, so she couldn’t think of anything that might have caused the fire. It wasn’t like anybody had been playing with matches or something - she’d asked Edith, and there definitely hadn’t been any.
She frowns, shifting her weight back onto the wall, which is as close to comfortable as the Box ever gets - and that’s when she notices the owl. Sitting in the front of the Box.
She blinks a few times, and rubs her eyes for good measure. It’s pretty late, so she’s probably imaging it. “When I open my eyes, I’m not going to see anything.”
Except there’s still an owl there, patiently holding a letter in its beak, sort of staring at her maybe. It’s hard to tell in the dark!
“Ummm. Shoo?” she makes a few flapping motions with her hands, which feels completely ridiculous but is still better than the hideous shrieking she’s going to hear if Miss Hattie finds this thing. “Come on! Miss Hattie is going to freak!” and she’s not grinning at the thought, because it isn’t funny, but she’s suddenly really glad that Edith and Agnes aren’t in here. “No owls allowed, go away! ...I’m talking to an owl. I’ve finally snapped.”
The owl, which maybe is a figment of her imagination if she has gone crazy, actually looks sort of offended. Although she’s not sure how she can tell, since it doesn’t have any expressions. After a minute of mutual staring, it finally hops over and offers her the letter.
Margo sighs, burying her face in her hands. “If I read this thing, will you go away?”
The owl offers her the letter again.
“Oh fine.” she lifts the box and snatches the letter, half thinking Miss Hattie’s going to come in and see it. Then she starts to read the letter, and has to bite her lip.
‘I’m magic.’ is her first thought.
‘I did set Lizzie’s hair on fire!’ is her second, and she stifles a giggle. Mustn’t get caught still up and um... taking mail deliveries from owls. Utterly crazy as that still sounds.
For a few long minutes she just thinks. About her sisters, and the orphanage. About what this could mean for thier futures. About the dangers of Edith with a wand in her hands. Or Agnes for that matter, but Agnes wouldn’t do it on purpose. Much. She was still a biter, though.
Then she looks at the owl. “I don’t have an owl. Can I send a reply with you?”
The owl blinks. Which is probably the only reply she’s going to get. “Okay, I’ve just got a quick question.”
***
The next night, the owl lands outside the window of their room. She sneaks over to it, careful not to wake her sisters.
She almost rips up the letter when she sees the answer.
The letter the owl brings back to Hogwarts has one word, scrawled in capitol letters that look as if the hand that wrote them had been shaking.
NO.
“Is that a Muggle?” some little blond snot asks, and Edith is about to answer when Dad pulls out the Freeze Ray.
Somebody must’ve done something, because Agnes is frowning and Margo has her wand out even though she doesn’t know how to use it yet. Like it matters. Freeze Rays are just as good as magic, anyway. So the creep in front of Dad goes down in a block of ice, which is the cue for all kinds of panic.
Sheesh. Like they’ve never seen someone frozen solid before.
Between the yelling and the people running and all, you’d have thought the little snot would be gone, but he’s still there when Edith stops laughing. So she smirks at him, over her folded arms, and announces:“That’s my Dad.”
After a moment, since he still hasn’t left: “Is Muggle an insult?”
She’s still laughing at the way he stomped off when Gru notices she snuck off and calls her back.
Writing plans for this year include really getting serious about tackling my backlog of works-in-progress/things I wish I'd started. To that end, yesterday I reorganized my writings folder too! Now instead of it just opening to a bunch of folders with everything I've ever written for, most of it really old poetry? All the stuff that's just poetry/I have no intention of trying to write for is tucked into a new folder labeled 'old stuff.'
Because I am super-creative like that. *shuffles off to playing more Pokemon*
