| Thursday, 17 September 1942 |
[Mar. 18th, 2009|11:47 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  guilty | ] |
Written hurriedly while Lucy is meant to be packing. The journal is left in her trunk, warded and enchanted to burn if Lucy hasn't broken the spell by midday on the 18th.
I guess it's bad of me to be a little bit glad that another terrible thing is happening tonight, that now the drills are apparently for real. All right, I know it's bad of me.
But I am. Because whatever people are talking about tonight, it won't be me. And I can do this. Better than some of them, the ones who've been under their wards, who've never been under attack. It's just another bombing raid after all.
Better get to the common room now. Goodbye diary, you're not something I want to take with me. |
|
|
| Saturday 12 September 1942 |
[Jan. 24th, 2008|11:23 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  obsessed | ] |
I wonder where He's hiding today. He likes to find us a place all alone, I just hope I can find where it is. Or maybe I'm meant to wait until nightfall? |
|
|
| Friday 11 September 1942 |
[Dec. 26th, 2007|12:52 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | horny | ] |
I can see why they all like it so much. But it can't be as perfect as it is with Him. |
|
|
| Sunday 6 September 1942 |
[Jul. 15th, 2007|07:27 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  annoyed | ] |
I've just escaped from a conversation with Fran in which she told me that it's all okay that she couldn't get the poor firstie boy out of Vieira's clutches because she warned him in the pervert code not to cheat on Mablin. Even if that was true, that's not what I wanted. Mablin could be saved if Vieira cheated on him. I don't care if Vieira cheats on Mablin with some other pervert! What I want is to do is to reveal them for what they are: to stop them sucking new recruits into their ranks. To let the kids know who their friends really are. Of course Vieira wasn't seducing the boy right there. He has all the time in the world once the boy learns the way things work at this school. Especially if he learns it from Vieira. And that means that Fran has to help me talk to them, which we can't do with Vieira standing right there.
But it's not even true, about this perverts' code. I can't believe that Vieira and the other sods talk about what they do disguising it as needlework or knitting. It's not even that I doubt Mablin knows the words. It's that that's what probably happens where I come from, if there even are half as many mundane sods as the health class said, which I doubt. But here they talk about it openly. OPENLY. They don't need a code. It's taught in Health. They get engaged and marry! There's no reason for code when Vieira can just TELL people that he has a boyfriend and that's NORMAL. I don't know what Fran was thinking; half the time I think it mustn't be much. |
|
|
| Friday 4 September 1942 |
[Apr. 22nd, 2007|12:39 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | sick | ] |
Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh ugh. I have been sick all afternoon, no doubt sickness from that stupid cake that MacAlister said wouldn't hurt us any more than it did already, or maybe the potion we took to fix us up. Probably the cake though, Goulston or Rasputina or whoever it was would definitely slip in something to go nicely with the antidote even.
I'm going up to Astronomy class though, even though I'm late already, because if I stay in bed I'll get more behind, and I want to find out more about whatever is going on with this Loveday thing. Dearborn and her crowd said that Malaspina's fiance, the little Leffoy, got given to the Pendry girl or something as part of some deal, but that doesn't make sense. It upset Malaspina though, so it's something I need to know more about. Fran can fill me in, and maybe Madley too, she's not a bad sort.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This thread has been closed; thank you for playing! ~the Mods |
|
|
| Thursday 3 September, 1942 |
[Apr. 5th, 2007|08:44 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  distressed | ] |
I am going to kill Goulston if it's the last thing I do, and it probably will be the last thing I did if I did it at this stupid school where everyone hates me enough to wreck my birthday, and to try and get Kiryakov to rape me. That's fine, but if I do anything about it to protect myself? That's me being a bitch leadhead.
They said Kiryakov wasn't in on it, but I think he was. Nutter told him he ought to apologise to me for hurting me even if he was charmed, which was half decent of her, but he didn't and said that I shouldn't expect one, that I should have known that he would never willingly court the likes of me. I overheard him asking if they thought I'd put it on him myself.
Only two good things came out of today. One was Crockford kissing me and the other is watching Malaspina and Rosier worry that they're going to get switched for losing points.
I think Crockford is my boyfriend now! He's not as good looking as Johnny is in photos, but he's here, and Johnny isn't. |
|
|
| Wednesday, 2 September 1942 |
[Feb. 27th, 2007|05:12 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | grouchy | ] |
Apparently Barlow has vanished, or been eaten by a squid, or eaten the French boy and been poisoned, or most likely just decided he didn't like this stupid school and went back to America. So we get Beasts off all this week, and thank goodness for that. I have to repeat Enochian I this year and do the Enochian II section as well, and Beasts is SO HARD without it. I still don't know why I'm no good at it, but I'm really not.
Potions this morning was also dreadful, but who expects any better from van Rensselaer? A monkey could teach better than him. Even so, I wanted to get a start on this week's work, but that horrible slag Dashwood is in the lab now with his equally horrible little brother who is just like him, except that he probably at least doesn't do it with BOYS because Pritchard was already all over him last night. And Dashwood's slag Kyteler was there and Kyteler's sister, who is a decent sort but obviously could use some help choosing her friends. Probably doesn't know how to with family like that, maybe Fran and I ought to have a word with her this year.
Mavis and Walsh are busy talking about Disgusting Vieira's birthday (didn't Mave give him the flick? I MUST FIND OUT what is going on there) and Fran was talking to them about Walsh's boyfriend. Pettigrew is a bit weird, but basically all right, and he's mundaneborn too, so at least he has some basic idea about what the real world is about. If Walsh keeps seeing him, maybe I can put up with her. But I'm NOT going to spend time with them when they're talking about Vieira the pervert, so I'm down in the common room instead. Maybe I should spend more time in the library this year? That's where Forrester hides, apparently. |
|
|
| Tuesday 1 September 1942 |
[Jan. 23rd, 2007|08:22 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | cranky | ] |
Moderately warded and hexed with an itching charm
Well, today is stupid and boring of course. Lois has been eating arcane food at home all summer and is still being a greedy fat pig anyway and not sharing anything. She has gained at least fifteen pounds over summer and someone ought to say something to her, but it won't be me because she'll get all stupid and sulky.
I don't have many coins and Fran gave me some in front of Edmund Bradbury, who she knows I like. She probably wants him for herself, showing off how generous she is. And she has a boyfriend already. But Bradbury is better looking, so of course Fran wants him too. She's gone off to patrol now, and I don't envy her a bit. Flint got prefect for fifth. I'm not surprised after her cousin Pritchard, the slaggiest and ugliest of all the girl slags, got it last year. I really don't respect Chattox for that now. Chattox loves slaggy girls, look at how she defends Goulston when Goulston attacks me.
And Mavis is such a drip. But at least we're not sitting with Walsh. |
|
|
| Tuesday 1 September 1942 |
[Dec. 20th, 2006|09:28 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | cranky | ] |
Ugh, school today. Well, I'll see Fran again, and no doubt hear all about the wonderful Johnny and about her house being destroyed, how dreadful, so much worse than any one or two mundane cities. And then it's Sucking Up to Mavis time, because Mavis is an awful drip, but really, she's got plenty to dislike about arcanes too, and Vieira has given her the flick like I always knew he would, and it's time she woke up to herself and realised who her friends are. And no doubt Mablin will be wandering around dazed with love for the Evil Slag (wouldn't be half surprised if Vieira used a love potion or one of his mind powers). I'd hex him if I could, but Mablin is good with hexes. That's one of the things I liked, as in USED TO LIKE, about him.
So really, things could hardly be worse. Ugh, school. |
|
|
| Sunday 23rd August 1942, late evening |
[May. 24th, 2006|08:42 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | sick with anger | ] |
Well, now I know who Mablin really is. Another damn traitorous slag. I'd put him down the well too, but really, being with Vieira will be its own punishment in the end. |
|
|
| Sunday 23rd August 1942 |
[May. 9th, 2006|10:42 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | hungry | ] |
We've just got back from church. Ma's in a right mood. There's some story that old Mrs Jenson from three blocks up got an orange from somewhere and just sat down and ate it up herself, or possibly walked along the street eating it while wearing diamonds. That's close to the version she just treated Da to anyway. I've half a mind to grab a wand and do an illusion of an orange sitting smashed up on the footpath. What a fuss there'd be!
Of course, I'm not allowed to do that any more than I'd have been allowed to set up wards to save Coventry.
I'm dying to have school food again. |
|
|
| Friday, 21 August 1942 |
[Apr. 1st, 2006|09:55 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | bitter | ] |
Warded to a somewhat paranoid degree, as best Lucy knows how
Fran's not a dumb tart like most arcaneborns, but she's just as stupid as the rest of them when it comes to mundanes. She wrote me a letter today telling me all about her house getting destroyed and asking how Coventry is. How am I meant to reply? Well Fran dear, it's just the same as it's been for two years now? Mostly rubble? Remember that? That Coventry?
I guess that's not fair really. I got their stupid newspaper today, and it's got nothing about the war in it, our war. Just their war. You'd think the great big holes in the ground were all in Cape Town for all they care. It's all about Pendries and Leffoys and whatnot for them. I'm glad there aren't any Leffoys at school, I hear they're worse than anyone. Lord Leffoy was is meant to be the worst of them all, pretending he's a woman. That's worse than Vieira. And speaking of Vieira, the Slimy One better not be doing anything horrid to Alastor.
I'll write to Fran tomorrow I suppose. It's not really her fault that she thinks that mundane holidays are all about running around to the cinema and riding in motorcars, none of them know anything and they don't want to either. I'm sure she doesn't even know who Hitler is. |
|
|
| 17 August 1942 |
[Feb. 14th, 2006|04:30 pm] |
On a piece of paper screwed up in Lucy's bin. It looks careless, but if you try and read it your hands will itch unbearably for weeks.
Things to do in sixth year, by Lucy Dolloway.
- transfigure Goulston's head into a toad
- transfigure Saint-Germain's dresses into mice (while she's wearing them!)
- bring Martius Starn back through the veil so that Rosier has to marry him after all
- hex Malaspina so that her hair falls out
- throw Vieira down a well
- and pour lots of bleach in after him
- find a boy to like me
- maybe Mablin?
- or Forrester
- actually, both
- at the same time!
no, not at the same time, that's disgusting |
|
|