A common nightingale (Luscinia megarhynchos) singing in the United Kingdom
by David Brooker
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A common nightingale (Luscinia megarhynchos) singing in the United Kingdom
by David Brooker
@tnott
“ She’s gone. ” Draco began, voice cracked glass and winter wind. Viridity encased the hastily swaddled form of Scorpius in shades of jade, as the pair stepped through the floo. Draco had been in Knockturn, scouting properties for his workshop, a base for his alchemic studies when Mipsy, his house elf, had appeared with his son and a note.
I can’t do this -- I’m sorry. it read in Astoria’s light and loopy script.
Panic -- a familiar swarm of fire ants, claimed his throat as he returned to their townhouse in central London to find her things gone, all traces of her existence in his life, minus their wedding photos, erased. Their wedding day had been a cataclysm of defeat born out of convenience, and Draco had found comfort in their mutual unhappiness. They’d agreed to cohabitate and to go on living their separate lives to appease their families, to fulfil their duties, and when that had no longer been enough -- a child, an heir, Scorpius.
“ I didn’t know ...” he continued, eye’s -- storm clouds over the shore, rain drops encased in terror. “ I don’t know ...”
things i had to do today i still havent done: practice my violin laundry
I haven't been nervous all week but the nervousness is here what do
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