Owl: Minerva Longbottom Who: Atlas and Minerva Where: Northern England, her house When: October 2, 2024. Nighttime Warnings: TBD. Nothing more than naughty language though. Summary: Atlas is up waiting for the moon, missing "his girl." Status: incomplete
With a sigh Atlas looked into the camp fire in front of him. He'd left that afternoon to head up to the moors and stake out a good spot to transform. He'd been up here before, so it wasn't hard to find a good place, but this time it was different. This time he had Minerva on the brain, and all he could think about was her, and making her proud of him.
He wasn't going to kill anyone. . . hopefully. But if Natasha ran across his path he couldn't make any promises. He'd tried hard to get where no one could find him though, and set up a simple camp site. He'd taken Bartholomew and Octavius with him to keep him company, and never regretted the decision. Oc was sitting at his feet, enjoying the fire, and Bartholomew was keeping a look out for snacks in the trees above.
Atlas had taken his potion for the evening, and was about to put out the fire and turn in, but he wanted to write Minerva before he did. He wanted to let her know how and where he was, and that he was thinking of her. So he went for his bag and pulled out some parchment and a Muggle pencil.
Minerva,
The moon's tomorrow night, though I'm sure you already know. I've taken the potion, it's as disgusting as ever, but I took it. I've got a camp site up in the moors, and no one's around. I should be safe. I brought the boys with me, to keep me company, but they can only do so much.
I wish I could have brought you. But it's much too dangerous. Even on the potion I feel the tickle of the monster in the back of my mind, pleading to come out. But I won't let him, I promise. I promised you I was going to change, to try and be better, and I will.
I miss you. I should be back in my flat by Sunday evening, but I'll send word when I arrive.