Post by SHEILA on Feb 11, 2009 16:15:36 GMT -6
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You could imitate it, though.
He’d bought a time-turner that year, before business had taken such a turn for the worse. Not for the ability to shift through time itself -- Edward was too practical to much care about that. It was purely the fact that it had somehow ended up at a muggle jumble sale, disguised as a curiosity. Solid gold, only made that year, and it was being pawned off for the price of half a fuck at his charming establishment. (Granted, the better half, but all the same.) The idiot had smiled when he’d handed over the scanty coins, no doubt imagining that he’d pulled off the scam of the day. And so it was his. Very bloody convenient, because now, he had an idea. He’d heard that it wasn’t always like this -- the sexual repression. Though their children denied it prolifically, a generation or two, the Georgians had bed-hopped like there was no tomorrow. Besides, even if that wasn’t the case, if he could persuade some random pureblood women to come back to his era -- even if he could just trick them into it -- they’d be at his mercy. He could control them, and he could certainly use them to supply the new demand for refined meat. Edward was smiling now. It was all so very simple. Fuck around with time, confuse a person or two, and business would be booming before he knew it. Edward was hungrier every day, you see; too hungry to wonder why it’d been so cheap, why the merchant had been so eager to pawn it off on him. He turned it, flicking through centuries with cursory rotations. He kept turning. The clock on the wall ticked eight o’clock in the evening, and the calendar had every day crossed up until December the twenty-eight. It would be a new year soon. How ironic. He kept turning.[/SIZE][/ul]
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You could imitate it, though.
He’d bought a time-turner that year, before business had taken such a turn for the worse. Not for the ability to shift through time itself -- Edward was too practical to much care about that. It was purely the fact that it had somehow ended up at a muggle jumble sale, disguised as a curiosity. Solid gold, only made that year, and it was being pawned off for the price of half a fuck at his charming establishment. (Granted, the better half, but all the same.) The idiot had smiled when he’d handed over the scanty coins, no doubt imagining that he’d pulled off the scam of the day. And so it was his. Very bloody convenient, because now, he had an idea. He’d heard that it wasn’t always like this -- the sexual repression. Though their children denied it prolifically, a generation or two, the Georgians had bed-hopped like there was no tomorrow. Besides, even if that wasn’t the case, if he could persuade some random pureblood women to come back to his era -- even if he could just trick them into it -- they’d be at his mercy. He could control them, and he could certainly use them to supply the new demand for refined meat. Edward was smiling now. It was all so very simple. Fuck around with time, confuse a person or two, and business would be booming before he knew it. Edward was hungrier every day, you see; too hungry to wonder why it’d been so cheap, why the merchant had been so eager to pawn it off on him. He turned it, flicking through centuries with cursory rotations. He kept turning. The clock on the wall ticked eight o’clock in the evening, and the calendar had every day crossed up until December the twenty-eight. It would be a new year soon. How ironic. He kept turning.[/SIZE][/ul]
it’s nineteen forty-seven
shapes, an angel, a devil, no in-between
[/b][/SIZE][/font]shapes, an angel, a devil, no in-between
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it’s nineteen-eighty
she speaks in third person so she can forget that she's me
[/b][/SIZE][/font]she speaks in third person so she can forget that she's me
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it’s eighteen seventy-five
doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt thou the sun doth move
[/b][/SIZE][/font]doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt thou the sun doth move
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