Regulus Black and Rabastan Lestrange Slash's Journal|
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|Friday, March 3rd, 2006|
Regulus's Journal 001
May 14, 1976
Private to my brother
Mr. High and Mighty, too good to talk to his own flesh and blood, Mr. I'm going to shag men all night and not give a fuck....I got a letter from Mother, and its all.about.you.
What the bloody hell did you do now????
-The perfect son, your brother,
Regulus Black( Sirius writes backCollapse )
Rabastan's Journal 004
May 11, 1976
The dance was bloody pathetic. Nothing but weak attempts at happiness and to give all of you something to do other than study or gossip, and forget the horrors of your own bloody lives. (Not that any of you have anything to worry about.)
Before the dance, I've realized that I really gave this school too much credit. I thought they were beyond such idiotic things.
- Rabastan Lestrange
Rabastan's Journal 003
May 2, 1976 (early morning)
Bloody hell, I just had to wake up early didn't I? And now I can't get back to sleep..... Fuck.Private to Me
Control, I've noticed, (over others, obviously) has satisfied me the best. Even more so when it came to Wilkes. He was too easy, I'm sure. It didn't take much to get him to cut himself. My mind keeps on going back to the blood.. Deep, red flowing blood, other than my own (or some fucking little bird's) for once.
Once Wilkes is set free from the Infirmary, I'm very much looking foreward to watching him do it again. And this time, they'll be better cuts, so he won't nearly lose as much blood as he did before. But they'll be enough... just enough..
Then, I came upon Crouch the other night. Fucking git that he is actually wishes to impress me. I'm not sure why, but.. at least he'll be doing the little tasks I send him out on, and he better do them correctly.
I'm sure he figures that we're mates now, or soon will be.
I don't have any fucking friends and I expect to keep it that way. Minions, or slaves, on the other hand... Now that's something else. Private to Crouch, Jr.
Crouch, did you go to Wilkes yet? If you take too long, then I'll fucking go and do it myself, because clearly, you can't do it on your own.
Rabastan's Journal 002
April 30, 1976
I killed a few simple, harmless birds today.
No, no, not women.
Those creatures with feathers and such, singing bloody irritating songs all day.
Just spent the entire day, really, sitting outside and once I spotted one in the sky, I'd point my wand at it, cast an incantation to stop it from flying and laughed at the seeing it's confusion.
Now, it may not seem as much as an interesting thought when one states they kill a bird to eat it, or whichever. But... in the way I did it. Bringing it down onto the ground, holding it tightly as it struggled beneath my grip. I proceded to first break it's wings, then... let it go and watched it roll around before me.
A smile came and I took the bird into my hands, still not wanting to kill it yet. I slowly plucked it's feathers from it's body and it bled. For the strangest reason, I'd never thought a bird would have the same colour as our own. Red, all over my hands.
Soon, the continuous chirping it was making got to me and I broke it's neck. A simple movement, really, with the thumb and index finger. Similar to breaking a quill. After I did this, I laughed. Laughed at the stupid pathetic creature. How weak and horrible looking it was. I did it a favour by killing it, by ending it's idiotic little life.
Tossing the limp bird aside, I repeated the process with two other birds or so, changing the activity only slightly, until I got bored and went to the lake to wash my hands.
I assume I'd done what I did today because I got bored with hurting myself and needed to hurt something else for a change. But, I'm sure the satisfaction would never be completely filled until I hurt.. a fellow student, perhaps?
|Thursday, March 2nd, 2006|
Rabastan's Journal 001
April 27, 1976
Merlin.. If only all of you knew what the previous owner of this journal wrote about. All they did was whine-whine-whine. Ugh, I could only imagine what they're like in person!
It's an interesting sort of thing here, because they will never know who stole their journal, for they have not a journal to see this very entry!
I simply amaze myself sometimes. And am laughing for hours on end at the very thought. Now if I could only find the individual that's sobbing over their lost journal. Only then, would my day be perfect.
- Rabastan Lestrange