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horrified

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Mãe de Dios, they’ve taken Foggington.

Foggington.

This is all my fault.

I was sure that Francis was guilty, or I wouldn’t have turned him in. Just talking to Francis makes Endymion cringe lately. He’s done something, whether or not it’s treason, and apparently that’s what it was, because both the Baddock brothers are gone. Just looking at Baddock makes Endymion cringe...but not Laurie. That’s like arresting Gilly Greenwood.

I can’t decide what’s more likely to kill me: my conscience, or Charis Leffoy. It was hard enough to turn Francis in; he and I were friends once. Even if maybe we wouldn’t have been, if he’d known all there is to know about me. But Laurie?

Kyteler can’t have told them to do that. I know him, he wouldn’t have. Nor Warrington either; he’s one of Antares Dee’s friends, but he’s not a waste of skin.

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lonely

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Well, I wanted more time to catch up with my homework, and now I’ve got it. The atmosphere in the dorm is nice and friendly. Crockford’s in the infirmary (won’t Hadrian be pleased), Frankel’s not back yet, and Alastor’s gone. Gresham is furious with the world because Arianwen and I aren’t reacting the way he thinks we should to what’s happened to Crockford. I’m not sure why he thinks I should care what happens to a traitor who is also 梅 花’s follower.

I don’t actually believe Crockford was consciously helping the enemy, but I could run from his house to Hadrian Kyteler’s house, though Gresham is right: it’s not as though Crockford has ever been known to act on either common sense or well-known information.

Mackenzie (the boy, not the wolf) was upset at tea. I didn’t have much time to talk to him, or to anyone else—I’ve been running errands all day—but I promised him I would later. When Abbott isn’t around to make sure I don’t teach him to make rabanadas.

I made them for tea today, and everyone liked them, though Abbott kept saying it was just eggy bread and she didn’t see what all of the fuss was about, because Abbott can’t stand it that I’m a better cook than she is. Besides, I can’t make fancy cakes with glowing icing every week. We’re having a war, in case someone forgot with all of the dying this weekend.

At least Hadrian and I can get our project done, since he’ll be a bachelor too for the next few days. He isn’t back yet, so I’d better lay into this paper Arianwen wants me to re-write for Magistra Serrano.

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worried

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Mãe de Dios, are things fucked up around here. Goyle knows how bad this is. I can see it in his eyes, in the way he carries himself. Pity the rest of them can’t.

I don’t mind anyone on the squad from Caerleon—Gage isn’t bad, and Zeller is only annoying when she decides I need to show pride in what she thinks my heritage is, and I hardly know Device. The problem is, and I hope Goyle knows it, that Mathers is a mesmerist. Which means it doesn’t so much matter what Gage and Zeller and Device choose to tell him; that won’t keep him from finding anything out that they know. Particularly Zeller; she is so easy to read, she might as well be a primer. I suggested to Goyle that he ought to have Alastor on the Squad as well and Sir Lucian burst out laughing. I don’t think I want to know what that was about.

I’m so behind on all my projects as it is and this won’t help. Hadrian, Arianwen and Professor Fletcher have all been giving me dirty looks, and I thought I’d spend this weekend finishing my papers in Alastor’s absence; I’ve barely been keeping up with my assignments and I’m falling behind in Compounding again. Not that I’m ever not.

I still don’t understand why Arianwen thinks her boss would be interested in what I do. It’s not as if I have enough vitality to do their sort of work.

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sick

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I miss Alastor and I can hardly wait to see him again but at the same time, I dread going back. It doesn't help that today is one of my bad days and I can hardly sit up without wheezing. The train will be full of cats and rats and dogs and birds and I'm already coughing up great gouts of snot. Mamma doesn't want me to go and of course my birthday's tomorrow, but the Law Must Be Obeyed and I am not too ill to go back, because I am not ill enough to go to Pantaleon's (thank G-d). So I shall drink my bog water and breathe in steam and save my durian for tomorrow. And think pleasant thoughts about Graves' and de Rais' mangy mutt and dubious noodle shops in Kowloon. (It's odd, dog is just as forbidden as pork, but the idea of it bothers me less, perhaps because we ate it as children, albeit illicitly--Mamma would have been just as horrified.) At least there wasn't bacon on the table this morning. I shall wake up to THAT unappealing smell every morning from now until Christmas. What joy.

I do hope Alastor can bully his roommates into letting me sleep in their room. Not just for the benefits of sharing a bed, but for the simple reason that I'm too old to sleep in the Avalon girls' dormitory without attracting attention these days, and I cannot sleep in the room with the mangy dog, nor the four-footed canine which accompanies him.

I have quite destroyed my handkerchief and, accidentally, one of Alastor’s shirts. Cold water and my mother’s cleaning charms will usually get out the worst of things, but I got a nosebleed from all the sneezing, so for safety’s sake we had to burn them once Alastor got the hex off me.

On the other hand, I don’t think I’ll ever have to worry about him favouring 梅 花 ever again. I am sure she thinks I steal his mail, because that’s the sort of person she and Fanny think I am, but since he put the letter directly into my hands, he thinks she used him to get at me. And I didn’t correct him because it is fairly common for people who are courting to share their letters with each other, if there aren’t any confidences in them, so she may very well have thought he’d give the letter to me to read.

Alastor thinks Fanny’s the one who told her about us, since Mavis could have done so at any time. And Florrie did think she was going to tell someone. But unfortunately Fanny is brighter than 梅 花 and therefore she must know that telling 梅 花 isn’t going to do us any harm. In fact it is altogether to my advantage since it means that Alastor’s loyalties will no longer be even slightly divided between me and someone who loathes me and all of my friends. I am thinking therefore that the reason that was done was to solidify the tie with 梅 花. She will have told someone else who actually has some power to do us harm. I suspect that it is likely to be Alastor’s father, since she adores him. She will regret any action she takes against us, as I will personally ensure that any harm done to Alastor is repaid to her tenfold.

I will discuss this later with Florian and Alastor (and hopefully Bella), though. Florian reminds me so much of me at his age, although I’m a little envious of him because he’s not only brilliant, he can run and fly and go wherever he likes in the woods and he doesn’t always have to carry medicines around. We are going up to make Mercutio apologise to me anyway. I told Alastor he has to be nice, and not offend Florian’s hospitality, but I am sure we can find a way to get what we want without having to cause any trouble.

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giddy

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It's going to be a good day.

We're having rabanadas for breakfast before Mass. My parents are going to visit Cross's parents and they're taking Cynthia with them. But even if they weren't it wouldn't matter because...I'm going to visit Alastor!

And I get to meet his infamous auntie and go up to the Manor and see Florian and meet Mr Delgardie and Mr Saunders (whom they are ALWAYS talking about). And I finally get to see Isabella again!!!

Of course I have to put up with Fanny Abbott and her horrid little sister, who makes Missy look like the soul of selfless generosity, and we have to behave ourselves around Alastor's father, but that? Is all right. Because I miss Alastor more than anything and also, he keeps sending me stories that give me ideas. That desperately need to be put into practise.

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pouty

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Alastor has to go home today. I'm going to miss him. Lots. Mamma says his parents probably miss him too and maybe I can go and visit him sometime soon, but I think he likes it better here. Of course Florian misses him, too. I know this because he wrote, rather plaintively even. And he's a sweet little boy and I ought to be grateful he's even still speaking to us after what we did in his bedroom but...I bet I'm going to miss him more than Florian does!

In other news, Jessica Walsingham has dumped her little sister here (well, Cynthia told her she could). I did not think it was possible, but Jessica's little sister is even more horrid than she is. And Missy likes her. Because, and I hate to admit this, because I love Missy, but Missy is rather horrid herself. I just don't want to be anywhere within fifty miles of Missy and Cori when they both decide they want the same thing.

Fletch is going to be irritated when I come back to school without half a book's worth of essays like last year, but he saw us when he visited so I suppose he'll understand why. Alastor has to leave tomorrow but he'll be back for Cynthia's party if he doesn't come back this weekend. Or maybe I'll visit him this weekend. Mamma says as long as I'm home Friday night it's all right.

Cynthia's having a party the last weekend before school, she's writing to her friends (who are really Barty's friends, and what a lot of wankers they are!) to help plan it today. She's in an awful snit because Mamma told her she had to let me invite my friends as well, which means that Alastor and I will be asking his roommates, as well as all of my other friends. I don't know if Livy will come. I rather hope she will but my parents will probably not budge about having Edouard in the house and I'm not sure I'm ready to see him again, even with Alastor there.

I'm sure that we can liven up Cynthia's staid little gathering. If nothing else Hubert is always good for a laugh or six. And Rookwood and Colette are friendly with both myself and Cynthia, though I'm not quite sure how they manage it. Not to mention that if you get Dash drunk enough and Hadrian's around, he becomes almost human. But mostly I wish Isabella could come. I miss her more than anyone else from school.

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loved

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The paulownia tree
doesn’t like the cold weather.
Transplanted, it loses its leaves
and it never grows tall.
Still, it’s the emblem of discipline.

They say I have blossomed.
Somehow, I must have found warmth
in this strange place.

I think it’s your fault.
I never meant to love this land
which chills my bones and dulls my senses.
Only you keep me alive here.
I shall punish you with eternal love,
and reward you with discipline:
Kisses and blows
from my dark, foreign heart.

Dylan Rafael Vieira y Craven

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jubilant

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I have the best suitor ever. How do I know this?

Because not only does he care enough and love me enough to write me pages and pages of really, really bad poetry...he writes me personalised pornography.

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philosophical

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1. I am not, no matter what Alastor says, ever drinking alcohol before noon again. Nor am I trusting him again to decide when it is and is not a good idea for me to drink. Alastor always thinks it is a good idea to drink. Alastor is also over six feet tall, at least ten stone, and does not take any medicines, and it’s not that he doesn’t love me, it’s that he associates my being drunk with him getting sex (even though he gets it when I’m sober, too), and not with my medicines being less effective, or my possibly making a complete ass of myself by being found on my knees fellating him whilst he is sprawled in the bed of his eleven-year-old, very wealthy and titled cousin, who would be within his rights never again to speak to me.

2. I do not quite understand why Mrs Mablin made me write an essay, since I neither stole anyone’s trousers nor turned anyone into a lizard. In fact, what I mostly did was cough. However, I am perfectly happy having had to write an essay for Mrs Mablin, because I can write five hundred words on the immorality of pranks just based on past experience with my roommates at school. And I would rather not write five hundred words on proper and improper locations for performing fellatio. And I am perfectly fine with my parents not knowing that happened.

3. The inside of Fanny Abbott’s head is a dismal place and punishment enough for the sin of being in there. The inside of the mundane boy’s head, however, was rather interesting. I think he must read all the same magazines that Mercuria reads. She would probably like him. But she’s eleven, and he doesn’t need any more arcane girls in his life.

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angry

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I saw Mary Walsh today.

I don't know how to reconcile what I saw, and what they did to her, and what I know about my family's history, with the fact that I'm a baptised Catholic, that I go to Mass.

I don't feel very much like a Catholic today.