(no subject)

Lucifer sings snatches under his breath and tells Thom a long glorious rambling story about the desert and the prophets and one version of the truth behind the words. Thom listens with half his mind and counts prayers and bells until Lucifer gets bored and kisses honey from his mouth, pushed up against a pillar in a foreign god’s house.

Thom presses upwards eagerly, but he kicks Lucifer sharply in the leg and it’s so, does it count as blasphemy when it’s not my religion?

“Not mine either,” Lucifer says afterwards. “If you want to be specific.”

~

Sometimes? Sometimes I think that I like the way the words fall out of my head.

Would update properly, but it is an unkind hour of the morning and I have to tutor some poor girl in maths in approximately eight hours. She deserves better than zombie!Fahye.

*goes off to the haven of her electric blanket*

it was a like nightmare. a plague. a nightmare about a plague!

You know it's winter when Fahye gets omg so so so sick.

My nose is streaming, my head is pounding, my throat feels like it's being used as an ice hockey rink and I could probably sleep for two days straight. I also cannot talk! Which was great fun for the tutoring, because I was reduced to pointing helplessly at questions and trying not to hack phlegm all over the poor girl.

I have tea. I have honey-eucalyptus sweets. I have a warm dressing gown and fluffy socks and I'm going to watch the Buffy musical and Dogma and read Oscar and Lucinda again.

I declare this Fahye's Braindead Sunday Night.

If anyone wants to write me pretties, I will sniffle gratefully and try not to ooze onto you.