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Oct. 30th, 2007 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenRecent events, in addition to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
motorbike happening, was me realizing that the last time I'd read Howl's Moving Castle was when I was like, thirteen. I've since fixed this. And then decided to write what I've always, always wanted to read. (I mean, besides Howl and Sophie being TOGETHER 4 EVER. They were the first pair of characters to have me shouting at a non-responsive object with the hopes that maybe they'd make out.)
Morgan had found a very nice place in the flower lanes to lie down and sun himself when he was disturbed by a very purposeful yowl. It came from the mansion, echoing at just the appropriate frequency to convey a proper sense of perfect, endless agony. Morgan sighed and rolled to his feet. He only ever got that spot in the mornings, but the apprentices had probably already run for the hills.
“Mum said if you started sliming I was supposed to dump you out the door and tell Calcifer to lock it,” he said. His father was drooped over a chair, staring desolately into a greasy saucepan. He looked a little oozy.
“You wouldn’t,” the wizard whispered. His hair was a sorry shade of brown-black that day.
“Maybe not,” Morgan admitted.
“But I would!” crackled Calcifer cheerily.
Howl drew himself up with as much dignity as one could be allowed by one bent over with grief. “You’re horrible,” he said to Calcifer. “And you’d be an orphan,” he said to Morgan.
Morgan took the cold eggs off the table and dumped the remnants into the hearth. Calcifer gobbled happily. “Mum said she’d be back in a week.”
Howl shook his head. The strands around his face looked a little stringy. He hadn’t washed it. This was a bad sign. “Oh, Morgan. So young. So naïve. We’ve been abandoned,” he sighed, sniffling into the saucepan.
“Isn’t she helping Aunt Martha put the house in order? What with the new baby and all.” And Uncle Michael being completely useless with those around, Morgan didn’t add.
“Abandoned!” cried Howl. “Left destitute!”
Morgan hoped then that he’d never get married. It seemed to make people even more ridiculous than they usually were. “Destitute? The King just paid you for scaring off Val’s last suitor.”
“Technically it was for an interesting new set of bed curtains,” noted Calcifer.
Morgan took Howl’s hand and tugged. The wizard didn’t budge. Morgan got behind his chair and nudged him by the shoulders. That got him going in a dazed, lovelorn kind of way, but it was something.
“C’mon, Dad. If mum had really left us, she would’ve at least dumped all your face-stuff down the drain first.”
Howl stopped. Morgan practically crashed into his back. His father looked back over his shoulder, sadly. “She reorganized the bathroom before she left,” he whispered. “I can’t find anything.”
Morgan thought about it for a second. “Let’s go out,” he said, at last. He thought on it some more and then, at great sacrifice, added, “None of my spring clothes fit anymore and mum thinks I should have new ones for May Day.”
Howl turned to him. He was dripping considerably less. “Really?”
Morgan shuffled awkwardly. “We were going to go out after she got back, except…” Except he’d found it’d had gotten a bit uncomfortable shopping with his mother. She was terribly picky about store-bought articles and had a tendency of arguing with the drapers in ways that created very irritable, very sentient pins. “And I don’t know anything about how that stuff works anyway.”
“I do,” said Howl, dry-faced and suddenly very eager. Morgan, who hadn’t allowed his father to dress him since he’d grown mobile enough to outrun his fashion sense, braced himself. “I know of just the place. It’s in Kingsbury, hang on.”
“In for it now, aren’t you,” remarked Calcifer, blowing in the breeze left by the wizard’s mad dash up the stairs.
“I think I spoil him,” said Morgan with a martyred sigh.
motorbike happening, was me realizing that the last time I'd read Howl's Moving Castle was when I was like, thirteen. I've since fixed this. And then decided to write what I've always, always wanted to read. (I mean, besides Howl and Sophie being TOGETHER 4 EVER. They were the first pair of characters to have me shouting at a non-responsive object with the hopes that maybe they'd make out.) Morgan had found a very nice place in the flower lanes to lie down and sun himself when he was disturbed by a very purposeful yowl. It came from the mansion, echoing at just the appropriate frequency to convey a proper sense of perfect, endless agony. Morgan sighed and rolled to his feet. He only ever got that spot in the mornings, but the apprentices had probably already run for the hills.
“Mum said if you started sliming I was supposed to dump you out the door and tell Calcifer to lock it,” he said. His father was drooped over a chair, staring desolately into a greasy saucepan. He looked a little oozy.
“You wouldn’t,” the wizard whispered. His hair was a sorry shade of brown-black that day.
“Maybe not,” Morgan admitted.
“But I would!” crackled Calcifer cheerily.
Howl drew himself up with as much dignity as one could be allowed by one bent over with grief. “You’re horrible,” he said to Calcifer. “And you’d be an orphan,” he said to Morgan.
Morgan took the cold eggs off the table and dumped the remnants into the hearth. Calcifer gobbled happily. “Mum said she’d be back in a week.”
Howl shook his head. The strands around his face looked a little stringy. He hadn’t washed it. This was a bad sign. “Oh, Morgan. So young. So naïve. We’ve been abandoned,” he sighed, sniffling into the saucepan.
“Isn’t she helping Aunt Martha put the house in order? What with the new baby and all.” And Uncle Michael being completely useless with those around, Morgan didn’t add.
“Abandoned!” cried Howl. “Left destitute!”
Morgan hoped then that he’d never get married. It seemed to make people even more ridiculous than they usually were. “Destitute? The King just paid you for scaring off Val’s last suitor.”
“Technically it was for an interesting new set of bed curtains,” noted Calcifer.
Morgan took Howl’s hand and tugged. The wizard didn’t budge. Morgan got behind his chair and nudged him by the shoulders. That got him going in a dazed, lovelorn kind of way, but it was something.
“C’mon, Dad. If mum had really left us, she would’ve at least dumped all your face-stuff down the drain first.”
Howl stopped. Morgan practically crashed into his back. His father looked back over his shoulder, sadly. “She reorganized the bathroom before she left,” he whispered. “I can’t find anything.”
Morgan thought about it for a second. “Let’s go out,” he said, at last. He thought on it some more and then, at great sacrifice, added, “None of my spring clothes fit anymore and mum thinks I should have new ones for May Day.”
Howl turned to him. He was dripping considerably less. “Really?”
Morgan shuffled awkwardly. “We were going to go out after she got back, except…” Except he’d found it’d had gotten a bit uncomfortable shopping with his mother. She was terribly picky about store-bought articles and had a tendency of arguing with the drapers in ways that created very irritable, very sentient pins. “And I don’t know anything about how that stuff works anyway.”
“I do,” said Howl, dry-faced and suddenly very eager. Morgan, who hadn’t allowed his father to dress him since he’d grown mobile enough to outrun his fashion sense, braced himself. “I know of just the place. It’s in Kingsbury, hang on.”
“In for it now, aren’t you,” remarked Calcifer, blowing in the breeze left by the wizard’s mad dash up the stairs.
“I think I spoil him,” said Morgan with a martyred sigh.
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Date: 2007-10-31 03:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-31 04:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-31 04:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-31 11:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-31 12:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-31 11:48 pm (UTC)plz write moar for HMC-'verse ~<3
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Date: 2007-11-08 05:57 pm (UTC)