A/N: Sick. Stomach bug. Recovering.
I want to make an update schedule.
Hah. I don't schedule anything. I am so unhealthily random. Especially these days.
Go to bed early. Wake up late.
Don't sleep. Wake at 5 am.
Addicted to computer. Want to tell computer to go eff off.
Writer's block. Assaulted by plotbunnies.
I am a walking example of Chaotic Neutral.
Go look it up.
Meh.
Because I'm in a dark mood, regardless of the recently installed spring break, I write some angst.
Lovely.
Roll your eyes, people, skip it if you want, but don't flame, my fever was bad as it is, no more heat!
-Shiny-
Halloween Party
It's a below-zero night outside, and the wind blows the helpless clouds aimlessly around. It has no goal in mind- hell, wind doesn't have a goal, it's an inanimate object..
The prisoner notices with equal bitterness that the chill feels like goddamned knives pulling and scraping at his naturally pale skin, adjusting his hair just so. Just so, that is, into dark icy turrets atop his head. He really should've considered the haircut, he muses, as wind whips more things into his already-moist eyes, things like salt and microscopic rock chunks.
He shivers and draws his tattered rags of robes close around his gaunt frame. As if that will help.
"Why are you out here on such a cold night?"
The voice makes him jump in startled shock. Nobody comes out here, to the desolate yard they sometimes let the more well-behaved prisoners pace. (Too scared of the guards, he reckons.) Even he only exits the semi-warm fortress of Azkaban Prison one night a year-
"It's All Hallows' Eve," he answers to his similarly robed companion, prompting the expected remark.
"Scared of ghosts?"
"No." Sirius Black gives a small sigh.
"Just realizing I'm missing my friends' annual Halloween party."
Sirius adds this justification with a cheesy fake "awe shucks, nostalgia" smile.
"Uh," grunts the dark figure, wandering off in search of a less cold breath of fresh air. Meanwhile, the thin man is drowning in memories.
Reminiscing is something Sirius Black loves to do, but this "party" is a lie. He knows what this macabre "celebration" consists of:
Remus will lower his head over the gravestone, Sirius guesses, and say words for the great people they'd all lost. Remus' sad amber eyes will close and he will get sealed off in that way he does when he's upset.
Sirius wants to be there to roll his eyes when that idiot takes all his poetic regret statements. He steals all the inspiring death quotes. Sirius swears he collects them.
Sirius wants to be there because he can pull out that line the dead man and woman made him swear never to use at their wedding toast:
It's infamous : "They are the best friends anyone could ever have."
(Sirius adds a little side part to himself about how although Rem will be groaning over that STUPID statement and it's abusedness, it'll still get liquid to freeze in the werewolf's eyes and he'll pretend they itch so he can wipe the tears, because now, the deceased couple WERE, not ARE, the best friends anyone could have)
Sirius wants to be there to have tears frozen on his face and snot icicles in his nostrils, to be weeping and sobbing, because there, what feels like thousands of miles away, at least he has a friend to mourn James and Lily with.
La Fin