Howl and Vate's Journal

[Thaliawen]

In which Howl is not a Marysue?

Got -12 on marysue quizzer thinger.

 

[Thaliawen]

It was late in the month of November, and Winter was showing itself. Snow covered the grounds of Barton; and people had started to dress warmly, in scarves, hats, and puffy coats, in result. Snow fell lightly to the ground as a silver moon tried to bring itself out behind the clouds. A thin, pale stream of light filtered through the thick gray clouds that made the early evening sky seem later. The snow outside had a look of being over used. Snowmen had been built, a snowfort with piles of snowballs next to it indictated there had been a war.

Tracks of footprints in circles adorned the ground. Children had been at play. Messages carefully written in the snow bid tidings of joy; several of them were directed at certain people, bearing threats and warnings not to smash the fort. The fort itself was elaborate. Clearly no small amount of magic had been at work. The entire thing had the shape of a castle, and though it was only four feet high, and perhaps ten feet wide, it had a certain air about it. It was as if the makers wished to intimidate those who viewed it. After all, who could make such an elaborate snow fort as this?

The windows in the castle seemed to be made of transparent, colored ice made to look like stained glass windows. There was the makings of a moat and drawbridge, but it looked as if that project had been abandoned. The opening that led inside of the fort was large enough for even a teenager to crawl inside.

Though, as with all magical structures, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior. While from the outside, one would figure the inside was made of snow. Maybe with some cheaply made plastic chairs and some stuffed animals. Basic clubhouse items normal children used. Unfortunately for the typical onlooker--these weren't normal children.

The walls of the fort from the inside were made of polished pine. It was a large place--it looked as if it had several rooms in it. There was a cozy looking couch and a television hidden within an entertainment center. Beneath that was a stereo. A room not too far away, was labeled 'Hot Springs' in messy handwriting. Another, after, was labeled 'Game room'. On the opposite side, 'Library' and 'Kitchen' were labeled in a neater, more careful hand.

The main room, however--was where the makers of this elaborate snow fort were reclining. A small, navy skinned boy was sitting in a much taller, blonde boy's lap. "Do you think there really is a Santa, Howl?" he asked, holding a tissue to his nose. It was bleeding. "The boys in class say he's not real, and there's no such thing!" Devin was clearly very upset about this. "I told one he was lying and that he was real, and he punched me in the nose!" This had been a long winded complaint, but the wizard behind him had a patient look of--not long suffering, but of understanding.

"He exists," Howl was quick to reassure his brother with a smile. "Never doubt for a moment that he does. Don't believe the nonsense they tell you about him living at the North Pole, though. That's just a fairystory so you don't know where he really is." The teenager paused. "I've met him. And so have you. He's in every bit of magic. Every kind act. Everytime you believe in something, or care for something, or give someone something, I suppose you could be considered someone's Santa."  

[Thaliawen]

Melting Hearts

In which Howl takes Sophie iceskating and proposes (finally).

 

[Thaliawen]

The first time Howell Jenkins had been in love; the cute kind that came from sharing crayons and liking the same games when it was time to play outside, he'd been around three years old. The girl had been blonde, blue eyed, and freckled. She always wore her hair in pigtails. He had then declared in front of his entire nursery school class; that he, Howie, loved Gwennie. But, as often first loves are, (especially when the only things you have in common are games and favorite crayon colors) it was short lived. Gwendolyn had moved to sit next to Hannah; after telling her distraught ex-best-friend that she was never going to share her crayons with him again.

And though his teacher tried to comfort him, he stubbornly remained unhappy until the end of the day. Didn't she understand that it wasn't alright? No matter how many times she said it was alright, he'd make new friends, and they'd share crayons with him--it didn't fix it. Howie didn't want new friends! He wanted Gwennie! And didn't the teacher realize that he loved Gwennie just like the prince loved the princess in that fairytale Megan had told him?

The three year old had resented it when said teacher had tried explaining to him that it wasn't "imagine time". She'd tried telling him that fairytales were for playing pretend.

The second time Howell had been in love, it had been a week after the Gwennie episode. His teacher had sat him on a carpet square next to a girl named Lynn. She had brown hair and brown eyes; and she had offered him half of her cookie. Howl had promptly decided he loved her. He offered her the shiny button he had found outside that morning when they'd gone to play. Instead of saying it aloud, however, Howell decided to whisper it into her ear.

Causing Lynn to back away from him, and run to the teacher, claiming Howie was being gross. And even though Howell had attempted to explain to the teacher that he hadn't been gross (because love wasn't gross, it was beautiful, his Momma had told him!), he was sent to the corner.

He remembered that ten minutes for a long, long time. During that time, the three year old had enough time to decide that girls weren't quite worth the punishments received for trying to get them to like him. It was a few years before he forgot how much trouble girls caused, and he fell in love again.

Instead of fooling around with silly peers, however, and sharing crayons, Howell felt he was above that at the age of nine. His teacher was beautiful and kind--and she had cheeks like the sweet pink apples at the store. Howl brought her one every day in hopes she'd eventually catch on; but it seemed like she wasn't the smartest tool in the shed, despite being a teacher. He had stayed after class to help her clean chalk boards, he'd washed desks. By a very wet Febuary fourteenth, however, the boy had realized; teachers were even harder to romance than the average girl. Especially when they cold-heartedly gave you an exam on the most romantic day of the year.

Howell quickly decided that females as a whole, were not worth the trouble.

By the time the boy had turned thirteen, however, he'd fallen in love again. Not with a girl; he'd sworn off females until he was at least fifty and really quite rich. He'd heard from his older sister's fiancee how much Megan cost him. No, rugby was his one, true love. For surely it would never reject him; or give him impossible tests.

The first time Howell Jenkins really fell in love, the kind that comes from spending long hours together, talking about differences, and arguing; he was about twenty seven years old.  

[Thaliawen]

My dearest, most beloved Sophie,

Words could never describe how much I love you. Why do I try? I suppose it's habit. You, with your big nose. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist looking into my things. So you know, Sophie, I have enchanted my books so you will find a love letter on each page. You might have found this one while cleaning. I suggest you stop whatever it is you're doing, and remember that I want it dirty. Always busy, Sophie!

Will you remember your poor neglected husband? Will you remember that your cleaning interferes with the time we can spend together? Typical, that I marry someone who spends more time cleaning the castle than they do with me! I miss you, Sophie. You may be staying in the Castle with me, but I miss you more than ever. Well, perhaps not. I do wish that you would put down that mop of yours once in a while. The floor's spotless, you realize.

Perhaps if I went and became filthy, you would spend as much time with me as you do with the floors? I hope you know that I'm not about to help you clean them.

Let's have hot chocolate tonight, Sophie. Forget the cleaning for once.

Your loving, neglected husband,

Howl  

[Thaliawen]

Front Page Updated!  

[Thaliawen]

Wedding bells and Wizards

 

[Thaliawen]

In which red hair fills a castle

 

[Thaliawen]

Here's a post  

[Thaliawen]

It used to be so natural
To talk about forever.


Howl was used to all sorts of different things. He'd been born to see strange sights, things invisible to see. He'd faced strange creatures such as lubbocks, he'd fought a wicked witch. He'd encounted a number of strange sensations, not excluding rotten aspic all over his person.

But this. This was odd, he didn't feel as if he could speak. The hard, heavy lump in his chest was choking him, making it almost impossible to breathe. He felt a sting at the corner of his eyes, and was surprised to find that they were wet. Huh. So that's what it was. His heart was reacting, painfully, to his past. Perhaps those days without his love had gotten to him at last. He took a breath, attempting to calm himself. No, this wasn't the time. Everything was fine! He should have been happy! His heart should have been soaring.

But it was not. Howl pondered this, rubbing at his eyes like a stubborn child. If Sophie saw him in this state, she would surely laugh. Or worse, chide him for getting her newly mopped floors wet. And he couldn't go to Kali, he didn't know what was wrong. It was something his heart was experiencing--and so sharing the experience with him. Whatever this anguish was, the great wizard wanted nothing to do with it.

Was this some new curse? Was he experiencing every heartbreak he'd caused those girls? Those girls he'd courted and left, as soon as they declared love for him. This was unbearable, the pain in his chest. The sensation of being unable to breathe: though he was aware of breathing. It felt like a physical lump, though he supposed it was instead an emotional lump of something he couldn't quite dispell. Had he done this? Caused this? Of course he had. He'd seen the girls, miserable and weepy. He'd left Michael and Calcifer to deal with them. Had Sophie talked his heart into giving him a taste of his own medicine? No, she wouldn't do that.

...Would she? Perhaps if she were angry with him. But no, it couldn't have been her. His heart belonged to her, she wouldn't punish him for that.

He wanted to lay down and curl up, waiting for this feeling to pass. It wasn't real, he told himself. It couldn't be real. He didn't deserve this pain. This heartache. He was a force for good. GOOD! This feeling... It seemed to him to remove all the happiness within him, make void all the good memories. All the laughter. As if a dementor was sucking him dry, leaving only the worst of things. Wait, that was the wrong fandom. He settled on the couch, pulling his legs close to his chest. Attempting to detach himself from the feelings flooding his heart. These weren't his. These weren't his emotions, he knew that. That didn't stop his experiencing them. He felt worn, but not tired. He couldn't close his eyes. They were sticky, and felt like gelatin under his eyelids.

He would curse the witch who'd done this to him. He'd turn her into a toad.


But used to bes don't count anymore
They just lay on the floor
Until you throw them away.


You don't bring me flowers,
You don't sing me love songs.
Anymore.  

[Thaliawen]

Holiday theme solo here xD