#[ jan sirac & lila lunara. ]

[hogwartsexpress]

[ remains of the polat family residence, godric's hallow. 1 november 2028. @wartorns & @jansirac ] neville's  words  still  echoed  in  lila's  mind,  an  endless  loop  of  despair:  he's  gone,  lila.  i'm  so  sorry.  the  words  circled  like  vultures,  feeding  on  what  remained  of  her  hope.  even  neville's  voice  —  always  so  steady  and  gentle  —  had  crumbled  around  the  edges,  like  everything  else  in  this  war-torn  world.  for  hours,  they'd  pleaded  with  their  mother  to  let  them  see  what  remained  of  their  house.  ginny  hadn't  wanted  them  to  witness  this  —  their  childhood  home  reduced  to  wreckage.  but  they  needed  to  see  it.  they  had  to  know. now  lila  stood  in  what  was  left  of  their  living  room,  her  hands  trembling  despite  her  desperate  attempts  to  still  them.  the  air  pressed  heavy  against  her  skin,  thick  with  the  acrid  smell  of  ash  and  dark  magic.  this  room  had  held  so  many  memories  —  homework  sprawled  across  the  floor  while  her  father  helped  with  defense  against  the  dark  arts  essays,  morning  dueling  practice  before  breakfast,  quiet  evenings  by  the  fire  when  he'd  tell  stories  of  his  adventures.  it  was  unrecognizable  now. cruel  sunlight  pierced  through  a  jagged  hole  in  the  ceiling,  casting  harsh  shadows  across  the  devastation.  scorch  marks  marred  the  walls  where  curses  had  struck.  the  furniture  lay  splintered  and  scattered  —  the  old  armchair  where  he  used  to  sit  was  now  nothing  but  kindling.  she  remembered  curling  up  in  his  lap  there  when  she  was  small,  feeling  invincible  in  his  embrace.  harun  polat,  the  hero  of  the  wizarding  world,  had  seemed  immortal  then.  how  wrong  they'd  all  been. family  photos  that  had  once  lined  the  mantlepiece  lay  shattered  across  the  floor,  smiling  faces  obscured  by  cracked  glass.  in  one  frame,  partially  buried  in  debris,  her  father's  shining  eyes  caught  hers  through  the  spider-web  fractures,  holding  all  the  warmth  and  pride  she'd  never  feel  again.  quickly,  she  turned  away,  blinking  rapidly  to  stop  the  burn  of  tears. her  fingers  brushed  against  something  solid  among  the  debris.  lila's  fingers  closed  around  his  old  auror  badge,  its  golden  surface  now  tarnished  and  dented.  the  metal  was  warm,  as  if  it  had  absorbed  the  morning  sun,  and  for  a  moment  she  could  pretend  it  was  still  warm  from  being  pinned  to  her  father's  chest.  she  gripped  it  until  the  edges  bit  into  her  palm,  welcoming  the  sharp  pain.  it  was  better  than  the  hollow  ache  in  her  chest,  the  grief  that  threatened  to  consume  her  whole. a  floorboard  creaked  behind  her  —  jan  or  altan,  probably,  coming  to  check  on  her.  she  quickly  wiped  her  eyes  with  her  sleeve,  though  no  tears  had  fallen,  a  reminder  to  be  strong.  “  it's  gone,  ”  she  murmured. she wasn't sure if she was speaking to her brothers or herself.  “  everything  …  it's  all  gone.  ”  lila's  fingers  tightened  around  the  badge  until  she  felt  blood  well  up  beneath  her  nails.  the  pain  helped  focus  her  mind,  turning  grief  into  something  harder,  something  she  could  use.  “  someone  needs  to  answer  for  this.  ”

[hogwartsexpress]

lila  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  bed,  silver  moonlight  spilling  through  her  window  as  she  pressed  her  palms  against  her  burning  eyes.  every  moment  with  oleander  played  through  her  mind  in  a  vicious  loop.  merlin,  she'd  been  pathetic—voice  full  of  desperate  longing  as  she'd  practically  begged  him  to  come  home.  the  firewhiskey  had  made  her  soft,  made  her  forget  the  careful  fortress  she'd  built  between  him  and  her  heart.  his  gaze  on  her  palm  still  burned  like  fiendfyre  against  her  skin,  that  treacherous  flicker  of  concern  in  his  eyes  sparking  a  little  ember  of  hope—only  for  it  to  be  snuffed  out  when  he  left.

what  had  she  expected?  that  he'd  suddenly  forgive  her?  that  he'd  run  back  into  her  open  arms?  that  they  could  somehow  resurrect  what  they'd  been  before  she'd  helped  burn  his  world  to  ash?  a  sound  escaped  her  throat—something  between  a  laugh  and  a  sob,  too  raw  to  be  either.  some  gryffindor  she  was,  too  much  of  a  coward  to  keep  her  own  heart  behind  its  walls.

the  bottle  of  firewhiskey  called  to  her  from  her  bedside  table,  but  her  hands  shook  too  violently  for her to  open  it.  good.  she  deserved  this  knife-edge  clarity,  deserved  to  feel  every  jagged  piece  of  her  shame  cutting  into  her.  deserved  to  remember  exactly  why  oleander's  eyes  held  such  venom  when  he  looked  at  her  now,  why  he—

a  sudden  crack  shattered  her  spiral  of  self-loathing.  she  whirled  toward  the  sound  just  in  time  to  see  james  crumple  onto  her  pillow,  blood  staining  the  fabric  a  violent  crimson.  for  a  heartbeat,  she  could  only  stare,  her  alcohol-addled  brain  struggling  to  separate  nightmare  from  reality.  then  she  saw  the  bruises  blossoming  across  his  face,  and  something  ignited  in  her  chest,  almost  burning  away  the  alcohol's  haze.

"  jan?  "  her  eyes  blinked  rapidly  as  she  tried  to  force  sobriety  through  sheer  willpower.  "  what's  going  on?  what  happened?  "  but  she  already  knew,  could  see  the  truth  etched  on  her  brother's  face  before  she  forced  out  her  next  words:  "  did  ollie  do  this?  "

Where: 12 Grimmauld Place, Lila's Bedroom

When: 26 of December, late

Who: @lilys

A loud Crack! and Jan found himself collapsing head first onto Lila's pillow. His head throbbed and the familiar metallic sting of blood rang in his throat.

He had made a huge mistake. One of many.

He didn't know what he was expecting when he ran after Ollie, but he supposed this didn't come as a shock. A bruise was expected, even welcomed. He knew what that meant. It was the silence, the melancholy, the kind that his father now didn't--couldn't--show, that drove him insane. When he was younger, he knew exactly where he stood after a proper punishment was chosen for blowing up the kitchen or hiding the cat.

Now, he wondered if he walked in front of him, grabbed his face and screamed I hate this I hate this I hate me if it would elicit any sort of response. And he was too scared to try.

So it would result in some injuries. At the end of the day, it's what he deserved. Downstairs seemed to be silent, clean up from the dinner long gone. He groaned as guilt filled him, lifting his head delicately to let it sit between his hands.

[ginnysweaslcys]

𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭. — made it out alive, but i think i lost it said that i was fine, said it from the coffin. remember how i died when you started walking? that's my life, that's my life. i'll put up a fight, taking out my earrings. don't you know the vibe? don't you know the feeling? you should spend the night, catch me on your ceiling. that's your prize, that's your prize, well.

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻. FULL NAME. ginevra molly weasley polat. NICKNAME(S). gin, g. AGE + DOB. forty eight & august 11. ZODIAC. leo. GENDER. cis woman. PRONOUNS. she & her. ORIENTATION. bisexual. BLOOD STATUS: pureblood. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: married in limbo rn.OCCUPATION. retired quidditch player, sports reporter for the daily prophet.

𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴:

FACECLAIM: alexandra breckenridge. HEIGHT: 5'7. EYE COLOR: green. HAIR COLOR: red. SCARS: various scattered through out her body. PIERCINGS: ears. OTHER NOTICABLE FEATURES: faded freckles across her cheeks.

𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝚈.

PARENTS. molly & arthur weasley. SIBLINGS. bill, charlie, percy, fred, george, & ron weasley. HUSBAND. harun polat. CHILDREN. jan sirac, altan sever, lila lunara polat, teddy lupin. IN LAWS. jan polat, lila evren polat, hermione granger, audrey weasley, angelina weasley, fleur weasley. NIECES & NEPHEWS. victoire, dominique & louis weasley, rose & hugo granger weasley, lucy & molly weasley, roxanne & fred weasley. the entire wizarding world jfc.

𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙲.

HOUSE. gryffindor. WAND. 14" 1/8 inches, yew wood, phoenix feather core. BOGGART. used to be voldemort, now it's her family murdered and her being the only one left. ALLIANCE: order of the stag. PATRONUS. horse.

𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈:

trigger warning for mentions of pregnancy complications, death.

the first weasley daughter in generations. a miracle. lucky number seven. but ginevra was anything but soft or gentle. how soft can you truly be when you have six older brothers? she learned how to hold her own from a very young age, trying to keep up. and she did. a force to be reckoned with. she had always loved that about herself. her ability to stand up for herself, for others. but how come no one noticed she wasn't her self her first year at hogwarts?

possessed, left to die. it was so isolating. it was so hard to explain. no one understood it. she was supposed to be safe at hogwarts. weren't they all? it was terrifying — not knowing what every year ahead held. she was scared, but never let it show too much. she let her strength carry her, carry others who needed it with pleasure. the story of her life. she could handle it. the fire that's been there since before she was born, a welcome friend. tom riddle didn't have power over her anymore. and he never would again.

amidst the grief following the battle of hogwarts, ginny went back to her first love: quidditch, of course. it healed her. she played a few seasons with the holy head harpies, winning a world cup. but she always knew when her and harun had kids, she would retire. and that's exactly what she did. first came jan, and how her mother did it seven times, she had no clue. it was difficult from the get go. all pregnancies were hard, she supposed, but not all pregnancies end up with you nearly losing your life.

she saw her brother. and everything felt so... warm. but as quickly as he appeared, he was gone again. his face replaced by the relieved faces of the healers and her husband. once again, she was a miracle. once again, saved from the brink of death. pretty on brand for the polats. if nearly dying from her first pregnancy wasn't traumatizing enough, she thought why not try her luck two more times? back to back to back in a very molly weasley way. however, unlike her mother, she cut it off at three. whether she got her girl or not, no more kids. but thankfully, she got her girl.

in retrospect, she should've known one day everything would start up again. because history always repeated itself. the first time he died, the moment she saw hagrid carrying him in his arms, something in her died. the hopes, the dreams, everything she wanted for them, dead and buried. not for long. because of course they were going to grow old together. they deserved a soft epilogue. but once again, that was too much to ask for. the cruel hands of fate gave ginny everything she wanted, just to rip it from under her.

the woman kept her grief to herself for the most part. she didn't want her kids to worry about her. no, she was the parent, that was her job. to take care of them, to protect them. when your kids are young, it's so much easier. then they grow up into adults and they make their own decisions. good decisions, bad decisions, the stupid, foolish decisions. the resurrection fell under the latter. maybe that made her a little angry. no, it certainly did. but there wasn't anything that her children could do that could make her stop loving them. wasn't like she could be surprised, they were cut from the same cloth of their parents. and merlin knows their parents and friends did their fair share of stupid things, just not.... resurrection.

and then the love of her life doesn't have his memories, which of course he doesn't. that would be too easy. some days ginny just doesn't want to deal with any of it. some days the gravity of every single thing she's ever been through hits her like a freight train and all she wants do is rot in bed. certainly a sensible reaction for anyone in her shoes, but she can't. not when she has so many people depending on her, looking to her. not that she wants to anyways, keeping herself busy keeps her sane. well, as sane as she can be. just like everything she's been through, the fire in her still burns bright as ever, maybe the brightest it's ever been. she allows herself to feel what she needs to when she needs to, then she gets back up and focuses. the story of her life.

[prongspolat]

━━     ˊ  𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙚𝙣𝙙.

general : 

full name: jan polat. nicknames: prongs.  age: twenty-four. date of birth: march 27. pronouns: he / him. blood status: pureblood. house: gryffindor. alignment: the order of the stag. code name: prongs. occupation: resurrected.

physicality : 

faceclaim: oktay çubuk. hair color + eye color: brown & brown. height: 5’9. other notable features: oversized glasses along the bridge of his nose, messy curls similar to a bed head, & a cheeky smile of mischief.

magic : 

daemon (patronus) : stag.  wand type : mahogany, 11” inches, phoenix feather. boggart : lila & harun dying before him.    amortentia : fresh lilies of the valley, library parchment.

family tree : 

partner : lila evren polat ( resurrected ). children : harun polat. in-laws : ginny weasley-polat ( daughter in law ), dursley family. grandchildren : jan sirac polat ( grandson ), altan sever polat ( grandson ), & lila lunara polat ( granddaughter ).

head canons ( more to be added ): death tw

often described as the 'glue' of the marauders, jan relied on his mischief brothers more than he led on. growing up as an only child, whispers around hogwarts deemed him as spoiled rotten at times. a child that was never told no but got everything he ever asked for. it was actually the loneliest of times, growing up. he begged for a close friend. he wished more than anything for his mother to give him a brother or sister to diminish the weight of the loneliness but with his mother's older age, he knew it wasn't a possibility. when he arrived at school, eleven years of age, he was arrogant - show offish. he wanted more than anything for people to be impressed with him enough to beg to be his friend ( to kill the lonely within ). soon he would realize that true friendship hadn't anything to do with the skills he had nor the things he could provide them - it was actually about his heart. the bond between brothers that was forged when he sat next to sirius black on the first day of classes. it was about the encouragement they would give one another when jan found out the secret that remus kept. it was about the chance he gave peter when he knew what loneliness looked like in a boy. the brothers not by blood but the brothers by honor and declaration.

when harun was born in late july, jan couldn't put up enough charms to keep the little house in godrick's hollow safe. each enchantment that was spoken was a promise he made to lila that nothing - no one - would ever harm the family they created with one another. even in the midst of the war, the newfound parents sought normalcy in their cottage. bedtime stories, even if harun would have no recollection of them ever being told. breakfast at the table, even if he couldn't sit without the support just yet. a stroll around the limits of the fence line, just for a bit of fresh air when the crying got to be a little too much for both of them. he craved the normality. he painted lila pictures of it for when the war would cease and their life outside the walls of seclusion would come again. oh, the dreams that never came to be. it was the evening

of october 30 when a storm barreled through godrick's hollow and outside on the steps of the cottage jan sat, just under the railing so the rain wouldn't topple him. the clouds in the once brightened sky felt like a warning. a sign that he failed to see as his son slept upstairs in his crib. it was then that he felt a pair of arms wrap around his middle from behind, a head pressed into his back as though they were resting against him. a smile formed along his lips, his left hand with the golden vow he made to her resting on her own as they listened to the rain fall against the grounds. a comfortable silence between the two of them before jan spoke with all confidence he had saying, 'when this is all over, we'll have a house of our own like this - i'll build you whatever you want. no matter how high. it'll be ours. our lives will be ours again. i promise.'

[nobodyssoldier]

i. a web weaving

ii. digging deeper

name: teddy lupin

age: 31

former house: hufflepuff

blood status: halfblood

face claim: emma d'arcy

allegiance: the erinyes

gender & pronouns: nonbinary, they/them

your birth was a swan song, but you were never quite able to bear the weight of it — of two legacies, and of two lives cut short. one foot in your mother's heavy boot (they're a metamorphmagus, ted! how sweet, they're as clumsy as her) and the other in your father's loafer (they're such a sensitive soul — and smart, too. just like lupin), you stumbled along in their footsteps, imagining where their hands might meet in the middle. you thought could walk that line. you dared to hope that, if you tried hard enough, you could be everything to everyone; that you could fill both sets of shoes.

but as you grew, so too did your fears. you feared you were the worst of them — his cynicism, her fire. you measured your worth against the memory of two perfect strangers; a mother and father you'd never known. they laughed in their portraits and exchanged shy smiles. they were caught in moments. frozen in amber, and kept safe from the ravages of time.

not you, though. the taller you grew, the more time you spent searching for traces of them in your reflection. you pinched your cheeks and studied the harsh angles of your face. you smiled and then frowned. all this to say; you tried. but it was never good enough. self-made cynic. counterfeit. forgery. eventually, you had no choice but to turn the photos face down and extinguish the light. i am not them, and i never will be (and maybe i don't want to be — maybe i'm tired of trying, and i want to finally rest easy in this skin).

iii. connection

one. VICTOIRE WEASLEY , friend with benefits — a couple more tequilas / and i'll tell you how i’m feeling / don't wanna kill your evening / don't wanna be a buzzkill / if i’m coming on strong / maybe this time i'll say something / something a little wild, out loud / maybe this time i'll say something / i've been feeling for a while, out loud.

two. LILA LUNARA "LILY LUNA" POLAT, JAN SIRAC "JAMES SIRIUS" POLAT & ALTAN SERVER "ALBUS SEVERUS" POLAT , psuedo-siblings — they say this house is haunted, but all these ghosts i've grown with / as it slips away from me i still hold on hopelessly / i lay my head to sleep and say goodnight / and one day i'll drive past you / if i recognize you, i'll try not to stay too long / see the soil i grew upon / in a couple years I'll be alright

three. NYMPHADORA TONKS & REMUS LUPIN , parents — and tonight when i closed that door, i wanted to turn back / but when i see a shooting star, i stay out of its path / and that's what you are, you're so bright / you burn my eyes and you move too fast / so i say “goodnight, make it home" like i’m making a wish on you, from afar / you, my shooting star.

[hogwartsexpress]

she  watched  as  sirius  processed  the  strange,  mystifying  reality  before  him  —  her  father  not  just  grown  up  but  with  children  of  his  own,  children  named  after  sirius  and  his  companions.  jan  sirac,  altan  server,  lila  lunara.  three  echoes  of  a  future  he'd  never  gotten  to  see,  breathing  and  laughing  and  grown.  his  gaze  kept  catching  onto  her  features,  no  doubt  recognizing  the  ghost  of  his  friend  in  her  face  —  the  brilliant  shock  of  copper,  the  same  heart-shaped  face,  even  the  way  her  eyes  shone  with  a  radiant  warmth  when  she  laughed  (  or  so  she'd  been  told  ).  the  resemblance  to  her  namesake  was  something  she'd  grown  up  hearing,  but  watching  sirius  reconcile  it  now  was  something  else  entirely. sirius  himself  was  different  than  she'd  always  imagined  —  this  larger-than-life  figure  who'd  fallen  through  the  veil  with  defiant,  barking  laughter.  the  sirius  before  her  was  younger,  less  haunted  beneath  his  dark  eyes.  sitting  here  now,  she  could  see  fragments  of  the  boy  he  must  have  been  before  azkaban  hollowed  him  out.  it  was  unsettling,  seeing  him  like  this.  whole.  unbroken.  the  man  in  her  father's  photographs  had  always  looked  …  fractured,  somehow.  like  someone  had  taken  all  his  pieces  and  stitched  them  back  together  wrong.  but  this  sirius  —  this  impossible,  miraculous  sirius  —  carried  himself  with  an  easy  grace  that  spoke  of  someone  who  had  never  known  azkaban.  someone  who  had  never  needed  to  remember  how  to  be  human. “  always  happy  to  teach  an  old  dog  some  new  tricks.  ”  she  teased  back,  eyes  sparkling  with  something  she  didn't  dare  name.  (  hope,  maybe?  )  with  a  quick  accio,  lila  summoned  the  firewhiskey  she  kept  stashed  in  her  room  —  what  used  to  be  the  first  floor  guest  bedroom.  “  has  anyone  given  you  the  tour  yet?  jan's  up  in  your  old  room  now.  afraid  you'll  have  to  fight  him  over  it  if  you  want  it  back —  but  i  wouldn't  bother  if  i  were  you.  merlin  only  knows  what  he's  been  up  to  in  there.  ”

25 DECEMBER 2030 / 𝟏𝟐 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄

of all the strange and uncomfortable truths to arise over the course of the past seventy-two hours ( and there have been many ) the fact of harun polat being not only an adult but a father is among the hardest to reconcile. and yet the evidence stands before him with winged eyeliner and an attitude, calling him old while simultaneously offering a lifeline in the form of hard liquor. merry christmas, indeed.

the girl is at once achingly like his lila and also not. it's the sort of resemblance he ought really to have grown accustomed to as she grew from a toddler into an adult. but as it stands, he's facing off against the jarring truth of their similarities laid bare and finding it ... pretty fucking weird, honestly.

" i'll have you know i'm a spring chicken. not a day over seventy-one. "

still, he pushes himself up out of the armchair he'd been occupying and glances pointedly around the living room, now decked out with photos of the polat family as opposed to portraits and pureblood propaganda. " i might have once, " he acknowledges. " but rumour has it this old man is a little behind the times so by all means — show me the booze. "

[nobodyssoldier]

i. a web weaving

I wanted to explain myself to myself in an understandable way. I gave shape to my fears and made excuses. I varied my velocities, watched myselves sleep. Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it — living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling. The enormity of my desire disgusts me.

ii. digging deeper

name: altan server polat

age: 25

former house: slytherin

blood status: halfblood

face claim: enes kocak (ask for alternatives)

allegiance: the knights of the round table

gender & pronouns: utp

special notes: altan server polat's canon name is albus severus potter. it has been changed to better reflect his face claim's ethnicity.

you are your father's son; a legacy carved from shadow and grief. you did not inherit his legend, but you inherited his ghosts. where darkness was thrust upon him, yours lived within. golden heroism passed you by, leaving still deeper wounds in its wake; you have his worst parts: his sullen silences, his sharp-edged snark, his loneliness. anxiety and depression envelop you like a hallowed cloak. a second skin of spectres weighs heavy on your shoulders — invisible to others, but insistent nonetheless.

your siblings burn bright with fire and nerve, but you're spun from secrets, midnight thoughts, and careful steps. there's power in being overlooked. your talents lie not on the battlefield but in guile and strategy. you’ve learned to craft your words into weapons. arrogant wit your shield, irreverent sarcasm your sword. each cutting remark is a carefully crafted potion, precise and potent. your magic mirrors your nature. it's thoughtful, moving like water rather than fire. it seeps into cracks, seeking out the path of least resistance. you excel at the subtle arts. you're drawn to the darkness not out of any nefarious intent, but out of curiosity. you want to understand and perhaps, in doing so, to understand yourself.

your perfectionism is a heavy burden. behind every raised eyebrow and drawled correction lies a childish need to prove your worth — to show that you belong in this family, even if you've chosen a different path. you preferred dungeons over towers, green over scarlet, cunning over glory. and wasn't that bravery? beneath these carefully constructed walls beats a fiercely loyal heart, though few ever earn the right to bear witness to it. to the world you are an oddity, a wolf amongst sheep, but those sheep know how well how gentle your claws can become in the softer moments.

sometimes you stand at his grave and wonder if he would understand the son he left behind — this child who has found a home in the grey spaces. in the tapestry of your family, you're the thread that murmurs rather than shouts. you don't quite match the pattern. you carry the names of two headmasters and the weight of their contradictions, and you've embraced them as you have embraced yourself. neither light nor dark, neither hero nor villain. you're something far interesting; someone who chose his own path. you don't want to be the chosen one — but you're still choosing who you are, even when that person doesn't fit the mold everyone expected. you are your father's son but not his reflection and never his echo. and now, you must live with the choices you've made, even if you sometimes wish you could take them back.

iii. connections

one. JAN SIRAC POLAT & LILA LUNARA POLAT , siblings — remember that game you always played with mom when we were little: would you still love me if? would you still love me if i smacked go? would you still love me if i robbed a bank? would you still love me if i killed someone?' i said nothing. my breath was coming too fast. i would still love you,' go said.

two. SCORPIUS MALFOY , best friend & soulmate — but do you feel held by him? does he feel like a home to you?

three. HARUN POLAT , father — and my father's face changed. it became terribly old and at the same time absolutely, helplessly young. i remember being absolutely astonished, at the still, cold center of the storm which was occurring in me, to realize that my father had been suffering, was suffering still.

four. ORESTES LESTRANGE , one-night-stand — - do you have any weapons on you? - i have a longing that's killing me.