Lavender Brown (lavenderblue) wrote in plagued_logs, @ 2015-08-09 08:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | bill weasley, gabriel truman, george weasley, ginny weasley, justin finch-fletchley, lavender brown, neville longbottom, seamus finnigan |
Full Moon Rising
WHO: Lavender Brown & OPEN TO ALL
WHAT: On the night of the full moon, a girl goes missing
WHEN: Saturday night; Midnight
WHERE: The streets of London
RATING: There may be blood
STATUS: Open; WIP
Nights and days were a blur of endless time. With the curtains closed, the lights off, it might as well have been endless night. She pulled the covers over her head and tried to block out the sound of the rain. It was hot, very hot, almost unbreathable, but throwing the covers away wouldn’t help. Her blood ran hot, all the time. She was not asleep, only because real sleep, deep sleep, was impossible tonight - tonight, though she had no way of knowing, the moon was full behind the curtains. Beyond the rain. She moaned a little and turned over. Pain was everywhere, worse somehow than usual, with every movement, every breath, as though every muscle were cramped, as though all the red, half-healed tears in her skin were ripping, widening. As though acid were being poured into the wounds. Then her feet were on the cold floor. Not sure when or how she had gotten out of bed, not caring. Not herself. The girl padded over to the door, stiffly, seeing but not seeing. The moon was calling. It was the dead of night, no one in the candle-lit corridors. Occasionally a cry or a groan from one of the rooms. Bare feet made hardly any sound down the stairs, one floor to the ground. Here, one or two people on night duty, intent on their work. She moved past them and through the door, a girl in nothing but a hospital gown, with no one seeing. Three steps into the street, past the illusion magic that hid the entrance, she stopped. Cool summer rain came down in a light drizzle, dampening her hair and dripping onto her forehead. Above her, the moon, a perfect silver circle. Moonlight. Freedom. Space to run. “Er, young lady? Are you quite all right?” She looked around. An older man in a green robe, spectacles, and a non-too-subtle bright yellow raincoat. He had a concerned look on his face, but more importantly, he was in her way. Dark brown eyes, in the sliver of moonlight between the buildings, shone momentarily yellow. A crashing noise, a low animal growl, and the sound of flesh and bone striking brick. Moments later, a dark shape left the alleyway and slipped out into the streets of the city. OOC:
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