impure_tale

(ooc: As established in this thread, the Marquis met the Abbe again Friday afternoon, and then promptly had a heart attack. The thread is not yet concluded but will be in the next day, but the end result will be that he doesn't survive. So this entry is being written from the infirmary, tonight, while he's getting over the death toll.)

One year. Five months. Four days.

That is how long it has been since my death in Charenton Asylum, since I robbed myself of a few final moments of breath and existence. It is not something I have ever expressed to anyone, but I committed suicide before I came here, and I have never regretted it. Ask yourself, dear reader, what level of desperation, of squalor, that a man must reach, to believe that the only comfort they will ever have will come through what choices they can make themselves, what control they are capable of assuming over their existence -- even if achieving it means bringing an end to one's own life.

Was I afraid? Not really. I am not proud of that. There is no pride in the level of suffering a person must endure to welcome an end, even an uncertain one.

Yesterday, I was afraid.

...Mademoiselle Shego, I'm afraid I shall not be able to attend your lesson tomorrow morning. You have my deepest apologies.

Members of the Theatre Troupe should be aware that rehearsals will have to be delayed for the time being.

[Private to Captain Kirk]

May I speak with you?

[Private to Dr Horrible]

Thank you for finding help for me.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Severus Snape seems to believe it was caused by stress or a powerful shock. I am not so certain that I agree, but then I am not the expert in these sorts of things, am I?

And I'm fine. The death toll is a little more than I expected it to be, but I'm being taken care of.

Edited 2009-10-20 19:51 (UTC)

Some people have a predisposition to them; let's hope you aren't one of them. I can't imagine an eternity of heart attacks.

Still... was there anything that did shock you that day?

Do you remember my telling you about the Priest who ran the asylum prior to my death?

A bit, but... you were never terribly forthcoming with that information.

You will never know how much this place changes you, Henry, until such a day that you turn a corner and see what you were before you came here staring back at you.

...

I see. Is he... a warden now?

An Inmate. In a cell like my own had been. Writing my stories.

How on earth is he writing your stories? What, exactly, happened here?

I didn't stay long enough to make certain of anything, myself. I couldn't. He claims to be continuing my work. My "evil", he said. My death was blamed upon him, and he was stripped of his title and imprisoned. That is what he claims, anyhow.

~~I don't even know--~~

Would you like any company?

It has been a while since we have spoken face to face.

I wish the circumstances were better.

They so rarely are anymore. But I long for some conversation.

It is always one horrible thing after another, isn't it?

I'll be by shortly.

I look forward to it, Sparrow.

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Private - Action or assume?

Private - Assume would be best. It's late :x