tu_vas_triompher: (Default)
Feuilly ([personal profile] tu_vas_triompher) wrote2017-03-28 08:02 pm

Labyrinth

One moment, the Labyrinth doorway. The next, a narrow bed in a cold room. A scuffling sound at the window pane, sparrows landing and then taking off again. An argument in some other room, muffled by walls but not very well: Go to hell, you're not my husband, you can't come here and talk like that to my kids.

It's all in French.
harryhotspur: (Default)

[personal profile] harryhotspur 2017-03-29 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
Harry becomes aware of it all in pieces, unsure which actually woke him-- the bird, the cold, the shouting. He hovers for a moment in hazy half-sleep, then is abruptly jolted to full waking by his own body: a fit of fierce coughing that makes his chest burn and his shoulders shake. He flops back on the thin little bed, wheezing. Ow. He's been ill, yes, but it hasn't felt like this.

Slowly, he opens his eyes. The room is unfamiliar, too completely to be waved away as the distorting effects of a fever. And-- wait, hadn't he gone into the Labyrinth? He carefully pushes himself upright.