theodore nott. (thestralsfriend) wrote in fourteenshades, @ 2013-03-12 19:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | theodore nott, x-pansy parkinson |
WHO Theodore Nott & Pansy Parkinson
WHERE & WHEN Hospital, Tuesday evening.
WHAT Theodore has a visitor.
RATING F for Feels :(
It was white. Cold. Sterile. Empty.
Just like his head, if his head was white, but his head was black, because there was nothing to be.
It was also quiet. Quieter. It was never really quiet. For now a grey sheet of blankness had quieted the madness that had possessed him last night when he crossed the threshold between that hospital room and this one.
He could remember the lumpy soil that pressed into his body when he had come back to the world here. The sting of it when it mixed with the blood dripping from his cuts. The journal that had magically appeared -- he had grabbed it out of instinct and bleed onto it and words had talked to him and he had talked back to the words in the blood that had dripped.
Then he was gone again, then he was there again.
Words that said they were his mother told him he was safe and to read a book. The bed was soft. The pillow sank beneath his empty head and he didn't have to move.
"Shouldn't call it empty," he mumbled to no one, "there's a thing there."
A thing, a few things, a small collection of memories from the time since he had Forgotten and so few he did not need his whole hand to count them from the time before he Forgot. He could be safe and read for his mother. For a soft embrace and a warm voice that didn't speak and the scent of freshly-washed hair, he could be still and read for those.
Theodore's mind was racing, but it was still. It spun and it shook but it was still. He was crazy. This was Everyday.
He heard the doorknob to the room turn, and his breath hitched in his throat.