Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92012-03-02 10:18 pm
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in trans_92012-03-02 10:18 pm
Entry tags:
He Holds His Crayon Rosary [Open]
It's been a long time since Howard engaged in some harmless graffiti. Two years, if not a little more. He's exhausted from a long shift in Med Bay and then hitting the Media Library for his new Leon-appointed position, but it seems like the urge to vandalize things has been pent up for so long that he has all the energy in the world to do this.
The memory-statues and painting under the giant lit-up head in the Art Hall are as good a place as any. Using permanent marker, some pink spraypaint and his knife, he starts to carve and mark things into the shifting wall.
DGIG KILLED 1ST CREW
STACY WIPES MINDS
DON'T TRUST THEM
The paintings and statues shift and mold to his memories, images both calm and terrifying, images he remembers and ones he's long forgotten. There's him playing basketball in his driveway. There's Orc's face torn open by flesh-eating worms. There's a massacre, and there's a busy cafeteria, and there's Disneyland, there's the first time he broke his nose and there's him sleeping in math class. The statue becomes a child's corpse and then an impatient P.E. coach and then his grandmother. On the wall, the images keep shifting, but the marks he's making stay where they are, black and pink and chiseled.
WRITE IT ALL DOWN
The memory-statues and painting under the giant lit-up head in the Art Hall are as good a place as any. Using permanent marker, some pink spraypaint and his knife, he starts to carve and mark things into the shifting wall.
DGIG KILLED 1ST CREW
STACY WIPES MINDS
DON'T TRUST THEM
The paintings and statues shift and mold to his memories, images both calm and terrifying, images he remembers and ones he's long forgotten. There's him playing basketball in his driveway. There's Orc's face torn open by flesh-eating worms. There's a massacre, and there's a busy cafeteria, and there's Disneyland, there's the first time he broke his nose and there's him sleeping in math class. The statue becomes a child's corpse and then an impatient P.E. coach and then his grandmother. On the wall, the images keep shifting, but the marks he's making stay where they are, black and pink and chiseled.
WRITE IT ALL DOWN
Deep upon the advertising
And then, laughing at his own wit, he folds his arms and looks down at his handiwork. "That's a weird name."
A single worded poem comprised of
Four letters
And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding
"We have house elves if that's what you mean. What's your name?"
The poem across the tracks rebounding
He glances back at some of his graffiti and twists his mouth over to the side in a displeased grimace. "I wish I had some colors besides pink and black. Hot pink just doesn't scream 'take my warnings about our Evil Overlords seriously'."
Shadowed by the exit light
Sirius raised his wand. "You could try red then." He slashed his wand at one of the paintings and though he never touched the painting the words "DON'T TRUST THEM" appeared in bright red over it.
His legs take their ascending flight.
He does, however, look a bit more at ease with the magic, even impressed. "Hey, I've seen wands before. You know a guy named Cedric?"
To seek the breast of darkness
"As for the house elves- they can think for themselves if that's what you mean but they don't often want to." Sirius spoke.
He recalled the odd reactions from his muggleborn friends to any mention of house elves and so he wasn't surprised by Howard's possible discomfort. He grimaced and shook his head. This all brought up more memories of the House of Black he wanted to stay buried, overshadowing any pleasant memories of raiding the kitchens at Hogwarts, where the house elves were always more than happy to see them.
"Disgusting, all of it." He muttered darkly. He flicked his wand and spelled out 'NEVER FORGET.'
and be suckled by the night
You could not pack more suspicion into that sentence if you tried. The way Sirius retreats from the conversation into some memory Howard isn't privy to doesn't escape him either. He cocks his head to the side.
"You mean our evil overlords or the elves?"
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"Then again, sometimes it comes with a little bit of outrage, I hear. Our evil overlords don't seem to have figured that out either."
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Sirius shrugged. He wasn't motivated to try and paint a bigger picture of house elf and wizard relations. And he recognized that his own experiences were warped to say the least.
"Speaking of the Daligig, are we going to do something about them? It seems I miss out on all the announcements until after they've happened." He kept forgetting to check the omnicomms. He kept forgetting to do a lot of things, really.
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He chews the corner of his tongue as he thinks of how to put it. "There are...ideas, floating around. Nothing concrete yet. Why, you feel like pumping them full of abracadabra?"
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Anyone who would do that to another person had to be stopped before they did it again.
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He pauses. "Unless you mean what the crew as a whole is doing about it."
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Clearly Sirius should, Howard's saying.
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