![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Well, the snow has melted and everything is now beautiful and sunny, with all of the trees in bloom. Blossoms are drifting on the wind like sakura petals in a shojo anime, and the tulip tree outside the computer lab is white and pink like créme anglais with raspberry sauce, and my application for study abroad in Ireland next fall looks to be well in hand, but I am not content. Why, you ask? Because my computer's hard drive crashed last night, and I now have to reformat it. *sighs* I will do it tonight, and if I run into any problems, I'll put myself in the queue to have Computer Services technicians come and do it for me. It's not a massive tragedy--all of my original fiction is either on disk or the Hollins network, and my fanfic is all on the internet and the Hollins network, so I still have everything important. But all of my art and music is gone. Dozens of mp3s, only two mixes of which had been burned onto CD. Files full of Remus/Sirius, Weiss Kruez, and Trigun fanart. I remember where I found some of it, but still... All my Metallica and Anime music is gone (*mourns* "Unforgiven," "Until it Sleeps," "Velvet Underworld," "Tokyo Sling"...). I will be doing a lot of searching and catching up once I have my computer fixed.
Meanwhile, "Scars" and "Gravity" being complete, I have resumed work on "Pollution."
"Quoth the Raven: 'Nevermore.'"
Caius shifted from foot to foot, leaving faint scratches in the wood of the chair he was perched upon. He glanced at the door, then at the open window, then at the door again. His wizard had left through that door hours ago, and likely wouldn’t be back for hours more. He would return smelling of ozone and copper, of magic and blood, and feed Caius newts’ eyes from the big glass jar on the shelf over the cauldron, or left-over bits of small animals that were not needed for the strange mixtures, the “potions,” that he made in that big, black cauldron. He wouldn’t bring any of the prey he’d killed while out hunting back for Caius, though. He never did. Caius had always assumed that he’d eaten it all himself, or been unable to bring such large carcasses home to their stone nest, but lately he had begun to suspect that perhaps his wizard did not eat his prey at all.
He had not eaten the old wizard. It bothered Caius that Severus had not eaten him. He had not been threatening Severus or Caius, he had not encroached on their territory or invaded their nest, and Severus had not wanted to eat him. Why, then, had he killed him? Severus killed Aurors without eating them, but Aurors were like owls; unless one drove them out of one’s territory, they would attack one’s nests and kill and eat one’s chicks. They had killed Severus’s father, back when Caius and his wizard had lived at Hogwarts, the big, stone nest where wizards kept their chicks. Severus had been very upset about it, so upset that he had accidentally drunk one of his “potions” and gotten very sick. Killing Aurors was only natural. But the old wizard, “Ver-lock,” had not been an Auror. He had been part of Severus’s flock. And Severus had killed him with his wand, with a spell so strong that Caius had felt it crackle in his pinfeathers, and for no reason that Caius could figure out.
For a moment, he had thought that his wizard intended “Ver-lock”s body as a gift for the silver-feathered wizard, but that had not made much sense either. One gave gifts to prospective mates, and the silver-feathered wizard already had a mate and an egg, and wasn’t even a female. He did have beautiful, shiny feathers, but Severus had never seemed to want him for a mate before (a smart decision, since anyone who owned such a big owl clearly wasn’t to be trusted). And, anyway, he had not eaten “Ver-lock” either.
After much agonized thought, Caius was forced to conclude that his wizard had killed the old wizard because of the Snake. The Snake, with his red eyes and frightening feel, like a giant raptor on the hunt for smaller birds. The Snake, who looked like a wizard, like a human, but was somehow wrong, somehow twisted. The Snake, who had burned his mark into Severus’s arm, who led Severus’s flock, and who must have told Severus to drive the old wizard out of the rookery, to chase him away and peck him to death. And Severus had done it, even though there was no reason. How many other hunts of his were without reason, unmotivated by hunger or defence of territory? How many other wizards had he pecked to death because of the Snake? How long before Severus himself began to become like the Snake, twisted and cold? Would he end up feeding Caius to the Snake’s mate, the giant python, and replace him with a big owl, like the silver-feathered wizard’s? A wizard who could peck a member of his own flock to death for nothing could kill his own familiar as well. Or his mate, or his chicks. He had no mate at the moment, and no chicks, but he might someday, and Caius could not stay with a wizard who would do such things.
He could not stay. It was the truth, hard as a beak and sharp as a talon. A Great Raven could not keep company with a wizard who did such things, even if said wizard was his nest-mate, his handsome, clever older brother with his properly beak-like nose and glossy black plumage, so much more raven-like than ordinary wizards. His wizard, who had rescued him from the pet store, recognized his worth and freed him from the cage of wizard-less ravens and taken him out of the scary, owl and cat-filled shop. His raven-wizard had become a vulture, an owl, an eagle, dangerous and threatening.
“Sev-a-rus,” Caius croaked one last time, to the empty room. His favourite word-sound, almost as beautiful a sound as “Rat.” He would not say it again. Great Ravens who had no wizards did not need to talk.
Caius opened his wings and gave them an experimental flap, then launched himself off the back of the chair and fluttered to the window. The air outside was cold, but thermals were not too difficult to find.
Meanwhile, "Scars" and "Gravity" being complete, I have resumed work on "Pollution."
"Quoth the Raven: 'Nevermore.'"
Caius shifted from foot to foot, leaving faint scratches in the wood of the chair he was perched upon. He glanced at the door, then at the open window, then at the door again. His wizard had left through that door hours ago, and likely wouldn’t be back for hours more. He would return smelling of ozone and copper, of magic and blood, and feed Caius newts’ eyes from the big glass jar on the shelf over the cauldron, or left-over bits of small animals that were not needed for the strange mixtures, the “potions,” that he made in that big, black cauldron. He wouldn’t bring any of the prey he’d killed while out hunting back for Caius, though. He never did. Caius had always assumed that he’d eaten it all himself, or been unable to bring such large carcasses home to their stone nest, but lately he had begun to suspect that perhaps his wizard did not eat his prey at all.
He had not eaten the old wizard. It bothered Caius that Severus had not eaten him. He had not been threatening Severus or Caius, he had not encroached on their territory or invaded their nest, and Severus had not wanted to eat him. Why, then, had he killed him? Severus killed Aurors without eating them, but Aurors were like owls; unless one drove them out of one’s territory, they would attack one’s nests and kill and eat one’s chicks. They had killed Severus’s father, back when Caius and his wizard had lived at Hogwarts, the big, stone nest where wizards kept their chicks. Severus had been very upset about it, so upset that he had accidentally drunk one of his “potions” and gotten very sick. Killing Aurors was only natural. But the old wizard, “Ver-lock,” had not been an Auror. He had been part of Severus’s flock. And Severus had killed him with his wand, with a spell so strong that Caius had felt it crackle in his pinfeathers, and for no reason that Caius could figure out.
For a moment, he had thought that his wizard intended “Ver-lock”s body as a gift for the silver-feathered wizard, but that had not made much sense either. One gave gifts to prospective mates, and the silver-feathered wizard already had a mate and an egg, and wasn’t even a female. He did have beautiful, shiny feathers, but Severus had never seemed to want him for a mate before (a smart decision, since anyone who owned such a big owl clearly wasn’t to be trusted). And, anyway, he had not eaten “Ver-lock” either.
After much agonized thought, Caius was forced to conclude that his wizard had killed the old wizard because of the Snake. The Snake, with his red eyes and frightening feel, like a giant raptor on the hunt for smaller birds. The Snake, who looked like a wizard, like a human, but was somehow wrong, somehow twisted. The Snake, who had burned his mark into Severus’s arm, who led Severus’s flock, and who must have told Severus to drive the old wizard out of the rookery, to chase him away and peck him to death. And Severus had done it, even though there was no reason. How many other hunts of his were without reason, unmotivated by hunger or defence of territory? How many other wizards had he pecked to death because of the Snake? How long before Severus himself began to become like the Snake, twisted and cold? Would he end up feeding Caius to the Snake’s mate, the giant python, and replace him with a big owl, like the silver-feathered wizard’s? A wizard who could peck a member of his own flock to death for nothing could kill his own familiar as well. Or his mate, or his chicks. He had no mate at the moment, and no chicks, but he might someday, and Caius could not stay with a wizard who would do such things.
He could not stay. It was the truth, hard as a beak and sharp as a talon. A Great Raven could not keep company with a wizard who did such things, even if said wizard was his nest-mate, his handsome, clever older brother with his properly beak-like nose and glossy black plumage, so much more raven-like than ordinary wizards. His wizard, who had rescued him from the pet store, recognized his worth and freed him from the cage of wizard-less ravens and taken him out of the scary, owl and cat-filled shop. His raven-wizard had become a vulture, an owl, an eagle, dangerous and threatening.
“Sev-a-rus,” Caius croaked one last time, to the empty room. His favourite word-sound, almost as beautiful a sound as “Rat.” He would not say it again. Great Ravens who had no wizards did not need to talk.
Caius opened his wings and gave them an experimental flap, then launched himself off the back of the chair and fluttered to the window. The air outside was cold, but thermals were not too difficult to find.