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nnyMidnight
He measures out the cool liquid carefully. The clock on the wall strikes, but... it isn’t needed. Not after this long. He can feel the approach of the Witching hour, and he is perfectly prepared, moving at a measured pace, taking care over each important step. He tries not to think about the contents of the vial. But he trembles a little, and a droplet falls onto the back of his hand.
Salt.
The tears of a martyr. He stares for far too long, thinking of green eyes.
The potion must wait for another month. The Witching hour is past.
He measures out the cool liquid carefully. The clock on the wall strikes, but... it isn’t needed. Not after this long. He can feel the approach of the Witching hour, and he is perfectly prepared, moving at a measured pace, taking care over each important step. He tries not to think about the contents of the vial. But he trembles a little, and a droplet falls onto the back of his hand.
Salt.
The tears of a martyr. He stares for far too long, thinking of green eyes.
The potion must wait for another month. The Witching hour is past.
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no subject
Date: 2003-11-05 12:28 am (UTC)Thank you, Sweet!
^_^