Asinine is a mighty fine word
Oct. 11th, 2004 03:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skoosiepantsSo. Not much time to write this weekend. It was my aniversary (with J) and I really can't believe it's been a year! Or, only a year. I'm fiercely independent, so it's been rough at times, but still... we're all good. He gave me a south seas pearl pendant necklace. Very pretty. I gave him a playstation2. His xbox got stolen and he said he'd prefer the ps2 to another one of those.
And he took me to a nice Italian dinner that was yum (I'm having my leftovers tonight).
Oh! And friday we saw Friday Night Lights, which was freakin' awesome. Now, I hate sports, but I love watching sports movies, and this was just one of the best. Highly recommend it.
I actually have been writing a lot of my gift-fic - which is turning out to have a brilliant Seamus in it, if I do say so myself - however, I can give you no cookies from that. But I so love entertaining you! Pirate Arrrrgh!!!
Here's a bit of Chapter 18 of The Origin of Storms, then. It's actually beta'd, but there's a massive problem with the climax - or lack of one - and I'm still floundering over how to fix it. So who knows when I'll get it out, or when I'll finish writing the epilogue. (my beta is probably seriously vexed with me right now!)
****
Her mind didn’t have any idea where she was going, but nonetheless her feet moved forward of their own accord, one in front of the other without pause. The dragon tooth burned hot against her sternum.
The halls were silent and empty, the stones emanating a bone-deep chill. Every once and a while a gust of wind would whip past her, whistling as it tugged on her tattered robes and the ends of her hair. Ginny rubbed her hands together, willing away a sudden numbness. Whether it was from fear or the cold air, she wasn’t quite sure.
She could hear her own breath, harsh and rapid.
Seconds melded into minutes, or perhaps hours, and she wasn’t certain how long it actually was before she came to a stop, somewhere in the depths of the castle, in front of a plain wooden door. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and flattened her palm against the rough surface. It wasn’t latched, and she pushed firmly, eyes intent on the line of yellow light that widened as the door slowly swung inward.
Voldemort sat in a wing-backed chair by a crackling fire, angled slightly towards her, and he watched her unflinchingly as she stepped into the room. Her attention was drawn immediately to the Staff, lying across his lap, one claw-like hand loosely clasping it.
“Come here, child,” he said, and she snapped her head up to gaze into his red eyes, mesmerized by the heat in them.
She felt frozen to the floor and shook her head vehemently. “No.”
His laugh sent a skein of dread down her spine, pooling in her stomach. “You want this, don’t you?” he asked mockingly, lifting the Staff, turning it in the firelight as if admiring its form. “You want it all to disappear, don’t you?” he went on, voice dropping into a seductive drawl. “Don’t want to be you, anymore?”
Ginny caught herself just before she nodded. What was he doing to her?
“I could take it all away.”
“You mean you could destroy me,” Ginny said thickly, slightly startled by her own voice, and then went on stronger, “Use me.”
“Yes,” he commented, getting to his feet. “Just as I used poor, darling Katya. The Hungarian was infatuated with the girl, and was so easy to manipulate. Of course, I never dreamed he’d make the same mistake twice.” His grin was openly predatory. “There is no doubt it was to my benefit.”
Ginny took a hasty step backwards and vainly held up her hands to ward him off.
And then a crack sounded around the room, and the tall, imposing form of Dumbledore stood between her and Voldemort, hands at his sides.
“You came for the girl, I suppose.” The dark wizard’s lips turned up in a sly smile. “And your sister.”
“Give me the Staff,” the white haired wizard said, his voice a soft demand.
“Now why would I want to do that?” he asked, idly toying with the carved dragon head, a sharp nail trailing over the polished eyes. The dragon tooth over Ginny’s heart pulsed. “I can control her, you know. Destroy her.”
Ginny shivered at the words.
“There is nothing, Tom,” Dumbledore replied calmly, “that you could do to either of them that would get you what you want.”
A hairless brow rose inquiringly. “And what is it that I want?”
“Me.”
Ginny sucked in her breath. What was the daft old wizard doing?
“A trade, is it? Somehow,” Voldemort tilted his head, “I doubt that’s what you’ve planned. Leave Hogwarts vulnerable without it’s esteemed Head?” His chuckle slipped past his lips in a hiss, and he stepped towards the Headmaster. “I want the castle, old man, not you.”
“A means to an end,” Dumbledore replied, and there was something in his inflection, something taunting and just a bit edgy, that seemed incredibly wrong.
****
Blah, blah, blah, yakity shmackity.
And he took me to a nice Italian dinner that was yum (I'm having my leftovers tonight).
Oh! And friday we saw Friday Night Lights, which was freakin' awesome. Now, I hate sports, but I love watching sports movies, and this was just one of the best. Highly recommend it.
I actually have been writing a lot of my gift-fic - which is turning out to have a brilliant Seamus in it, if I do say so myself - however, I can give you no cookies from that. But I so love entertaining you! Pirate Arrrrgh!!!
Here's a bit of Chapter 18 of The Origin of Storms, then. It's actually beta'd, but there's a massive problem with the climax - or lack of one - and I'm still floundering over how to fix it. So who knows when I'll get it out, or when I'll finish writing the epilogue. (my beta is probably seriously vexed with me right now!)
****
Her mind didn’t have any idea where she was going, but nonetheless her feet moved forward of their own accord, one in front of the other without pause. The dragon tooth burned hot against her sternum.
The halls were silent and empty, the stones emanating a bone-deep chill. Every once and a while a gust of wind would whip past her, whistling as it tugged on her tattered robes and the ends of her hair. Ginny rubbed her hands together, willing away a sudden numbness. Whether it was from fear or the cold air, she wasn’t quite sure.
She could hear her own breath, harsh and rapid.
Seconds melded into minutes, or perhaps hours, and she wasn’t certain how long it actually was before she came to a stop, somewhere in the depths of the castle, in front of a plain wooden door. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and flattened her palm against the rough surface. It wasn’t latched, and she pushed firmly, eyes intent on the line of yellow light that widened as the door slowly swung inward.
Voldemort sat in a wing-backed chair by a crackling fire, angled slightly towards her, and he watched her unflinchingly as she stepped into the room. Her attention was drawn immediately to the Staff, lying across his lap, one claw-like hand loosely clasping it.
“Come here, child,” he said, and she snapped her head up to gaze into his red eyes, mesmerized by the heat in them.
She felt frozen to the floor and shook her head vehemently. “No.”
His laugh sent a skein of dread down her spine, pooling in her stomach. “You want this, don’t you?” he asked mockingly, lifting the Staff, turning it in the firelight as if admiring its form. “You want it all to disappear, don’t you?” he went on, voice dropping into a seductive drawl. “Don’t want to be you, anymore?”
Ginny caught herself just before she nodded. What was he doing to her?
“I could take it all away.”
“You mean you could destroy me,” Ginny said thickly, slightly startled by her own voice, and then went on stronger, “Use me.”
“Yes,” he commented, getting to his feet. “Just as I used poor, darling Katya. The Hungarian was infatuated with the girl, and was so easy to manipulate. Of course, I never dreamed he’d make the same mistake twice.” His grin was openly predatory. “There is no doubt it was to my benefit.”
Ginny took a hasty step backwards and vainly held up her hands to ward him off.
And then a crack sounded around the room, and the tall, imposing form of Dumbledore stood between her and Voldemort, hands at his sides.
“You came for the girl, I suppose.” The dark wizard’s lips turned up in a sly smile. “And your sister.”
“Give me the Staff,” the white haired wizard said, his voice a soft demand.
“Now why would I want to do that?” he asked, idly toying with the carved dragon head, a sharp nail trailing over the polished eyes. The dragon tooth over Ginny’s heart pulsed. “I can control her, you know. Destroy her.”
Ginny shivered at the words.
“There is nothing, Tom,” Dumbledore replied calmly, “that you could do to either of them that would get you what you want.”
A hairless brow rose inquiringly. “And what is it that I want?”
“Me.”
Ginny sucked in her breath. What was the daft old wizard doing?
“A trade, is it? Somehow,” Voldemort tilted his head, “I doubt that’s what you’ve planned. Leave Hogwarts vulnerable without it’s esteemed Head?” His chuckle slipped past his lips in a hiss, and he stepped towards the Headmaster. “I want the castle, old man, not you.”
“A means to an end,” Dumbledore replied, and there was something in his inflection, something taunting and just a bit edgy, that seemed incredibly wrong.
****
Blah, blah, blah, yakity shmackity.
