User blog:Jiskran/Einar's Outlook

The one-'aye'd man
It's a bit nutty, mine being the only vote that really counts around here. Nothing new, mind, but in a cell of one it makes rather more sense. Out here, I've got all the good people, the same ones who stood by and left me in the hell-hole, counting on me. And Charlie. Who may be the only reason I'm doing this, 'cos if ever an event had 'Grim' written all over its ugly mug, this is the one. Got no fear of death - not an old friend like him - but dying now, dying's a different matter, what with the odds being against anyone inclined to hold my hand as I pass being around. I did that, you know, for the ones who were collateral, who were just kin or kith to the true Dark, held their hands as they slipped away - and didn't add them to the tally. That's Dark only, those who immolated their souls in the writhing sufferings of others, not ordinary folk with the misfortune of being related to one of us. Hunters, I mean. We crop up from time to time, and without guidance we're not - discriminating. The Dark offers so many more handy targets, it's kind of the logical choice, for the likes of us. Charlie knows enough to step lightly aside when the savage in me surfaces, and can often cut him down with a well-chosen phrase, but I've not risked it with anyone else so far - not sure I can. Well, whatever I think about 'bsolute power', the decision may well be taken out of my hands - there's the ancient nutter up near the school, something calling itself 'The Shrouded' congealing on my doorstep, and the WHPS still taking chunks out of us at will, as far as I can tell. Mebbe I should lead Morituri meself, get it over with. Nah, that'd be the coward's way out, and if there's one thing I've pointlessly prided myself in a lifetime of confinement in the expectations of others, it's not picking up that particular Scout Badge. So on we go.

Stone walls do not a prison make - Chapter One
I've been listening to these trials now for long enough, I can feel my blood is thinner than when we started. They are such stuff as nightmares are made on, and I can't wait to be allowed to sleep once more with my eyes closed. Take this Jessica, in front of us now. There's nobody home. I don't need to cast any spell - birds of a feather, and all that. There's nothing with a killing instinct in there, I can tell. Still, we have to go through this rigmarole. And they don't even get help, if they don't fully understand the ramifications of being here. I know I didn't. Get help, I mean. Or understand, come to that. Which is why we'rewasting time with this farrago, because even I wouldn't condemn anyone who didn't deserve it to what I went through. Death's cleaner, I reckon, than Azkaban. Less injurious to the soul. They don't have to kiss you direct in there, the Dementors, they breath the same air as you - it's just a matter of time before they take yours.

I want Ormond, mind. The only one I know without question should get existence in Azkaban. If I'm the one who catches up with him, not likely to happen, mind. My self-control's a rigid little scrapper, and liable to gnaw through his own leg to get free and get at Orman. Alkaev, far as I can  tell, is an ancient puppet clinging to the strings of pseudo-life - despatching him would be a mercy, but what the Ruskies would do in response, there lies the problem. And as if the other side weren't enough to contend with, there's the wallflower Ms. Bellefleur, who seems to be doing the hokey-cokey as regards participation in our little venture, and Richards, who's several fries and a cold drink short of a Happy Meal. I've only got a handful capable of the knife-edge decisions, and most of them, Charlie excepted, are untested. That, in the end,is what's holding me back from personally leading the assault - the uncertainty as to who would pick up, never mind try to step into, my size nines.