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Hogwarts
Nothin' much else. My feet are STILL cold. ;)
Oh, and my reading of classics has continued apace. I've now finished "Emma," "Pride and Prejudice," and "Around the World in 80 Days." I'm saving "Persuasion" and I've got a pile of other books to read - I bought enough to cover me until I return to the states. I'm currently in "The Pickwick Papers." Not sure what I think so far. I've never read Dickin's before. God, it's kind of embarrassing to admit that...
Meanwhile, a fun chain letter I got sent has me thinking about ways to organize and keep recipes. I'd love to keep my online somehow, if I could find a good program to do so. Searching turned up this cook book wiki - not quite what I'm searching for, but pretty neat. :)
Our walk after we reached this most pleasant conclusion was, in fact, also quite pleasant. Indeed, I would say that I found pretty much everything “pleasant” at that point in time, though some things were “exemplary,” some “splendid,” a few “excellent,” and small minority of the best of the best were “outstanding” and “extraordinary” and “awe inspiring.” The wind was brisk and delightful, the chill was invigorating, the sky was spectacular, my entire vocabulary took a turn for the positive, and nothing in the world could seem ill at all. We talked a little bit more on my shocking revelations, but they were cheerful and heartfelt words, and my head was so far in the clouds that I couldn’t have related what we talked about even minutes later, much less after all these years. That Marcus didn’t despise me seemed to embody all I could dream of in terms of felicity and good will, and my opinion of him rose yet again. Only his modesty and utter lack of pride kept me from feeling infinitely his inferior; yet somehow when I was with him, though I did feel inferior, I also felt his regard for me, and this transformed any sentiments I held of divorcing my inferior self from him into feelings of how immensely lucky I was that someone like him could have such feelings for someone like me.
All good things must, of course, come to an end, and it was hunger that finally drove us in doors. We barely got back in time to eat lunch, and after that we each had to part ways to see to our regular duties. The change in my behavior from my listless service on Friday to my cheerful, smiling demeanor on Saturday that Celestine asked if I was quite well, and so I found myself explaining the entire circumstance to her. She, of course, had been party to large pieces of this anyway, so she was quick to reaffirm her support and to offer me encouragement. Indeed, to only increase my spirits, she decided to stand patrol with me. One of the many duties of prefects and such is to walk the halls of the castle, seeking out malefactors, mischief-makers, intruders, or anyone in distress. This was done in shifts which were generally two to four hours; due to an unfortunate turn of events, though I had ended up with both the before and after dinner shifts, and would therefore lose my entire Saturday evening to this dull work.
It was after dinner, when Celestine rejoined me, that I my excitement had finally settled enough to notice that she was not at all in good spirits. I commented on this, and apologized profusely at my unintentioned callousness of earlier which had not observed her demeanor. Forgiving me immediately, though, I saw that her countenance remained sad, and, since she looked like she was thinking of what to say, I was silent for a few moments.
“Delia,” she said finally, “I thought perhaps you might be able to help me with something. It relates to potions.”
“Of course,” I replied, not masking my surprise. “I would be happy to help in whatever way I can.”
“Perhaps you should not be so quick to agree,” she said, and her voice sounded so very troubled and sad that I quickly repeated myself, assuring her that I would do whatever I could to aid her. “No, please,” she interrupted me, “let me explain. It’s a very serious matter, and there is some danger, and I would not have you enter in to it unawares.” She hesitated again. “Since you spend so much time with Marcus, I imagine that he has told you about the mission that the WAP students undertook in September?” I nodded. “When they came back, they brought with them a group of children, prisoners they had rescued. One of these prisoners was my brother – I told you, right, my parents and my brother were still missing someplace in France?” I nodded again, and felt a chill of premonition. Marcus had mentioned the prisoners that they had found. He had said that the children were being used as part of an experiment, an experiment the purpose of which was to create controllable werewolves. Celestine had stopped, and seemed to be unable to bring herself to say what she had to say next.
“Celestine,” I said as gently as I could, and she looked up at me; her eyes were filled with tears. “Is your brother a werewolf?” She nodded, utterly miserable.
“They tell me, they tell me there is nothing that can be done,” she cried softly, “that he will be this way forever! He suffers so! It is, now, only on the nights of the full moon that he is afflicted, but it affects his appetite always, and has grown so pale, so pale and so thin, I cannot bear to see him so unhappy. They say that nothing at all can be done, that there is no cure for lycanthropy,” she paused, crying, with a hiccup, before proceeding in a rush, “but I do not think that they are really trying, I think that all they see is an sad creature that was once a child but is now a werewolf, and you know how werewolves are hated and despised and reviled! I felt that way too, before, I’m shamed to admit it, but now, now I see my brother! And I look at those other children – there are 5 others, in all – and I see them. They are not simply beasts, they are children, they are frightened and alone and no body cares for them at all! I want to help them,” she finished fiercely.
I was flattered, in truth, that she had come to me, but what she said warred with my own prejudices. After all, they were werewolves. Vicious, unthinking beasts that would kill any human they came across! So everyone thought of them, and so had I as well. Yet what Celestine said was so completely true. They were only children, they had not brought this upon themselves, and they would harm no one except for on the full moon. “What have you tried?” I asked. I was very proud of myself as I realized that not for a moment of myself reflection had it occurred to me to withdraw my quickly offered support. I would still help her, though she was right that there was danger. Perhaps I would live to be worthy of Marcus yet!
“I’ve been studying all about the illness – there are very few books, shockingly, for the same reasons as is so much unwarranted hatred. I’ve been looking into approaches to its cure that involve charms and transfiguration, and particularly those that might relate to magical beasts. That is the area of most of my interests, and I had considered some means of, I don’t know, splitting the wolf essence from the human essence, or transferring the illness to another. I haven’t had any luck so far,” she hiccupped again, though her tears were stopping.
“And you think a potion might be used instead?” I said, thoughtful. It had some potential. “There are many brews with medicinal purposes, though there isn’t one that I know of to tackle this particular ailment. Still, I can think of what I might be able to modify. I will certainly need some werewolf blood in order to experiment, though. Possibly quite a deal of it – unless I can come up with some means of curing the blood, I will have to test each concoction on one of those afflicted, and that could be very dangerous – both to the sick child and to myself or whoever else must adopt the unenviable task of watching the child at the next full moon to see what happens.”
“So…” Celestine looked up at me, hope and surprise on her face “…so you’ll help me? Truly?”
“Of course,” I replied. “And if I might suggest, there is a third angle we could try – Marcus told me that Nox and his horrid ally whose castle they struck were using automata necklaces to control the children?”
Celestine nodded. “All of them still wear the necklaces, though they don’t seem to help much.”
“If you don’t mind sharing this secret with another, Lycia has much expertise in automata, and might be able to help. Indeed, we could bring her the necklace without explaining the secret.” This second option seemed more pleasing to Celestine, which I could certainly understand.
“Why not Galatea?” asked Celestine, frowning. “Lycia is good at automata, very good, but Galatea is better.”
I sighed. I had thought of Galatea, but after her behavior towards Nox, I feared very much to trust her with something like this. But could I explain this? I thought about it quickly, and finally made up my mind. That Celestine had entrusted me with her secret was a sign of her good faith, and it would be silly for me not to return such a heartfelt and sincere gesture. I explained to her briefly my reasons for thinking that Galatea should not be trusted, that she might be Nox’s and Tremens’ daughter, that I thought she might be an automata herself, and though Celestine looked skeptical as I finished, she did agree. “Very well. I visit my brother tomorrow. I will ask his keepers for a small amount of his blood, and will retrieve the necklace in the hopes that maybe, if Lycia can tell us more of its mechanisms, we might better understand lycanthropy.”
We talked on after this, with many hours of my patrol still to pass, and as we walked back, finally, very late, I truly appreciated what it was to have a close friend. This proved a perfectly pleasant addendum to an already wonderful day. I had a boyfriend who cared about me and whom I cared about, and a close friend in whom to confide. I wondered how I had ever been happy so completely alone as had always been my wont before; now to be alone seemed both quite horrible and quite inconceivable.
Oh, and my reading of classics has continued apace. I've now finished "Emma," "Pride and Prejudice," and "Around the World in 80 Days." I'm saving "Persuasion" and I've got a pile of other books to read - I bought enough to cover me until I return to the states. I'm currently in "The Pickwick Papers." Not sure what I think so far. I've never read Dickin's before. God, it's kind of embarrassing to admit that...
Meanwhile, a fun chain letter I got sent has me thinking about ways to organize and keep recipes. I'd love to keep my online somehow, if I could find a good program to do so. Searching turned up this cook book wiki - not quite what I'm searching for, but pretty neat. :)
Our walk after we reached this most pleasant conclusion was, in fact, also quite pleasant. Indeed, I would say that I found pretty much everything “pleasant” at that point in time, though some things were “exemplary,” some “splendid,” a few “excellent,” and small minority of the best of the best were “outstanding” and “extraordinary” and “awe inspiring.” The wind was brisk and delightful, the chill was invigorating, the sky was spectacular, my entire vocabulary took a turn for the positive, and nothing in the world could seem ill at all. We talked a little bit more on my shocking revelations, but they were cheerful and heartfelt words, and my head was so far in the clouds that I couldn’t have related what we talked about even minutes later, much less after all these years. That Marcus didn’t despise me seemed to embody all I could dream of in terms of felicity and good will, and my opinion of him rose yet again. Only his modesty and utter lack of pride kept me from feeling infinitely his inferior; yet somehow when I was with him, though I did feel inferior, I also felt his regard for me, and this transformed any sentiments I held of divorcing my inferior self from him into feelings of how immensely lucky I was that someone like him could have such feelings for someone like me.
All good things must, of course, come to an end, and it was hunger that finally drove us in doors. We barely got back in time to eat lunch, and after that we each had to part ways to see to our regular duties. The change in my behavior from my listless service on Friday to my cheerful, smiling demeanor on Saturday that Celestine asked if I was quite well, and so I found myself explaining the entire circumstance to her. She, of course, had been party to large pieces of this anyway, so she was quick to reaffirm her support and to offer me encouragement. Indeed, to only increase my spirits, she decided to stand patrol with me. One of the many duties of prefects and such is to walk the halls of the castle, seeking out malefactors, mischief-makers, intruders, or anyone in distress. This was done in shifts which were generally two to four hours; due to an unfortunate turn of events, though I had ended up with both the before and after dinner shifts, and would therefore lose my entire Saturday evening to this dull work.
It was after dinner, when Celestine rejoined me, that I my excitement had finally settled enough to notice that she was not at all in good spirits. I commented on this, and apologized profusely at my unintentioned callousness of earlier which had not observed her demeanor. Forgiving me immediately, though, I saw that her countenance remained sad, and, since she looked like she was thinking of what to say, I was silent for a few moments.
“Delia,” she said finally, “I thought perhaps you might be able to help me with something. It relates to potions.”
“Of course,” I replied, not masking my surprise. “I would be happy to help in whatever way I can.”
“Perhaps you should not be so quick to agree,” she said, and her voice sounded so very troubled and sad that I quickly repeated myself, assuring her that I would do whatever I could to aid her. “No, please,” she interrupted me, “let me explain. It’s a very serious matter, and there is some danger, and I would not have you enter in to it unawares.” She hesitated again. “Since you spend so much time with Marcus, I imagine that he has told you about the mission that the WAP students undertook in September?” I nodded. “When they came back, they brought with them a group of children, prisoners they had rescued. One of these prisoners was my brother – I told you, right, my parents and my brother were still missing someplace in France?” I nodded again, and felt a chill of premonition. Marcus had mentioned the prisoners that they had found. He had said that the children were being used as part of an experiment, an experiment the purpose of which was to create controllable werewolves. Celestine had stopped, and seemed to be unable to bring herself to say what she had to say next.
“Celestine,” I said as gently as I could, and she looked up at me; her eyes were filled with tears. “Is your brother a werewolf?” She nodded, utterly miserable.
“They tell me, they tell me there is nothing that can be done,” she cried softly, “that he will be this way forever! He suffers so! It is, now, only on the nights of the full moon that he is afflicted, but it affects his appetite always, and has grown so pale, so pale and so thin, I cannot bear to see him so unhappy. They say that nothing at all can be done, that there is no cure for lycanthropy,” she paused, crying, with a hiccup, before proceeding in a rush, “but I do not think that they are really trying, I think that all they see is an sad creature that was once a child but is now a werewolf, and you know how werewolves are hated and despised and reviled! I felt that way too, before, I’m shamed to admit it, but now, now I see my brother! And I look at those other children – there are 5 others, in all – and I see them. They are not simply beasts, they are children, they are frightened and alone and no body cares for them at all! I want to help them,” she finished fiercely.
I was flattered, in truth, that she had come to me, but what she said warred with my own prejudices. After all, they were werewolves. Vicious, unthinking beasts that would kill any human they came across! So everyone thought of them, and so had I as well. Yet what Celestine said was so completely true. They were only children, they had not brought this upon themselves, and they would harm no one except for on the full moon. “What have you tried?” I asked. I was very proud of myself as I realized that not for a moment of myself reflection had it occurred to me to withdraw my quickly offered support. I would still help her, though she was right that there was danger. Perhaps I would live to be worthy of Marcus yet!
“I’ve been studying all about the illness – there are very few books, shockingly, for the same reasons as is so much unwarranted hatred. I’ve been looking into approaches to its cure that involve charms and transfiguration, and particularly those that might relate to magical beasts. That is the area of most of my interests, and I had considered some means of, I don’t know, splitting the wolf essence from the human essence, or transferring the illness to another. I haven’t had any luck so far,” she hiccupped again, though her tears were stopping.
“And you think a potion might be used instead?” I said, thoughtful. It had some potential. “There are many brews with medicinal purposes, though there isn’t one that I know of to tackle this particular ailment. Still, I can think of what I might be able to modify. I will certainly need some werewolf blood in order to experiment, though. Possibly quite a deal of it – unless I can come up with some means of curing the blood, I will have to test each concoction on one of those afflicted, and that could be very dangerous – both to the sick child and to myself or whoever else must adopt the unenviable task of watching the child at the next full moon to see what happens.”
“So…” Celestine looked up at me, hope and surprise on her face “…so you’ll help me? Truly?”
“Of course,” I replied. “And if I might suggest, there is a third angle we could try – Marcus told me that Nox and his horrid ally whose castle they struck were using automata necklaces to control the children?”
Celestine nodded. “All of them still wear the necklaces, though they don’t seem to help much.”
“If you don’t mind sharing this secret with another, Lycia has much expertise in automata, and might be able to help. Indeed, we could bring her the necklace without explaining the secret.” This second option seemed more pleasing to Celestine, which I could certainly understand.
“Why not Galatea?” asked Celestine, frowning. “Lycia is good at automata, very good, but Galatea is better.”
I sighed. I had thought of Galatea, but after her behavior towards Nox, I feared very much to trust her with something like this. But could I explain this? I thought about it quickly, and finally made up my mind. That Celestine had entrusted me with her secret was a sign of her good faith, and it would be silly for me not to return such a heartfelt and sincere gesture. I explained to her briefly my reasons for thinking that Galatea should not be trusted, that she might be Nox’s and Tremens’ daughter, that I thought she might be an automata herself, and though Celestine looked skeptical as I finished, she did agree. “Very well. I visit my brother tomorrow. I will ask his keepers for a small amount of his blood, and will retrieve the necklace in the hopes that maybe, if Lycia can tell us more of its mechanisms, we might better understand lycanthropy.”
We talked on after this, with many hours of my patrol still to pass, and as we walked back, finally, very late, I truly appreciated what it was to have a close friend. This proved a perfectly pleasant addendum to an already wonderful day. I had a boyfriend who cared about me and whom I cared about, and a close friend in whom to confide. I wondered how I had ever been happy so completely alone as had always been my wont before; now to be alone seemed both quite horrible and quite inconceivable.
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When would you like your DVDs and games back? That way I can be sure to mark my calendar to bring the items with me on my weekend visits to B-town. Hope life is wonderful and we all miss you greatly. ^^
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*huggles*
-- Gerardo
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Bet seriously, I'm excessively excited about the cooking stuff. :) I definitely think you and I should do something like, every Wednesday (or whichever), we meet for dinner, alternating who cooks. We'll develop mad cooking skillz, yo. Just hope you don't mind that I try to make everything low fat/low cal. :)
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(a) poison me ;), or
(b) mind me cooking things that aren't either of those things, I'm definitely game. I'll totally bring my appetite babe ;)
mad skillz she sez...lovin it ;) *huggles*
-- G-Rod