New Member! sheafrotherdon
I'd like to introduce sheafrotherdon who a good few of you will already know, looking at her friends list.
Petulantgod recommended me to pop over there and read "Like Prayers" (RL/SS) R which is an AU slant on Halloween 1981, how it SHOULD have gone, after the Potters were killed. Simple plot? Yes, but it accentuates the writing.
It’s impossible not to be aware of the magic. Nightfall hums with it, a secretive whisper, doubt and possibility, an obscene murmur to set the most placid soul on edge. Doors are locked and extra spells cast, charms and hexes, wards and protections. There’s a reckoning to be had - a sly, seductive, pewter-curl of magic that stalks and threatens - telegraphed in the shiver of a mocking breeze.
It's a beautiful piece, where words chase eachother in a gossamer dance.
So I went and looked for other pieces, this was from a drabble.
They’re older now, and their hipbones jut and their skin is torn and mended in unpredictable places. They’re held together by magic and ink, determination knit into their being, and nothing tastes of dirt-smoke-boy anymore, although their limbs remember how and where to fall. It’s loss-yes-now that lingers in the hollow of their collarbones and dust-hurt-thankfulness that glides beneath their hands. It’s scars that neither could prevent and food that never made it to their table and yet - it’s hope in some clumsy, adult fashion
And this from "The Metric Weight of Grief" (RL)
He remembers now, feels the echoes of old loss ripple through the solidity of his bones. It was like this then, too - the sense of moving through water, limbs protesting. Stretches of numbness, despair as an anesthetic, whole hours lost to the listless study of sunlight spilling over wood.
So, make her welcome - and sheafrotherdon, I hope you will consider our challenges! (they are listed on the side bar of the comm)
Petulantgod recommended me to pop over there and read "Like Prayers" (RL/SS) R which is an AU slant on Halloween 1981, how it SHOULD have gone, after the Potters were killed. Simple plot? Yes, but it accentuates the writing.
It’s impossible not to be aware of the magic. Nightfall hums with it, a secretive whisper, doubt and possibility, an obscene murmur to set the most placid soul on edge. Doors are locked and extra spells cast, charms and hexes, wards and protections. There’s a reckoning to be had - a sly, seductive, pewter-curl of magic that stalks and threatens - telegraphed in the shiver of a mocking breeze.
It's a beautiful piece, where words chase eachother in a gossamer dance.
So I went and looked for other pieces, this was from a drabble.
They’re older now, and their hipbones jut and their skin is torn and mended in unpredictable places. They’re held together by magic and ink, determination knit into their being, and nothing tastes of dirt-smoke-boy anymore, although their limbs remember how and where to fall. It’s loss-yes-now that lingers in the hollow of their collarbones and dust-hurt-thankfulness that glides beneath their hands. It’s scars that neither could prevent and food that never made it to their table and yet - it’s hope in some clumsy, adult fashion
And this from "The Metric Weight of Grief" (RL)
He remembers now, feels the echoes of old loss ripple through the solidity of his bones. It was like this then, too - the sense of moving through water, limbs protesting. Stretches of numbness, despair as an anesthetic, whole hours lost to the listless study of sunlight spilling over wood.
So, make her welcome - and sheafrotherdon, I hope you will consider our challenges! (they are listed on the side bar of the comm)