Ford was about to ask how he'd blown himself up — a point of particular interest since his brother was a potioneer and Ford was really hoping he didn't manage to follow suit — but it occurred to him that that bit probably wouldn't have made it into the diary, unless someone else had added it as an epilogue. The diarist would have been dead by then, and even if he’d stuck around to tell his story he wouldn't have been able to write it down.
The man said he'd left a lot of debts, though, so of course he wouldn't have stayed around as a ghost, Ford thought a little bitterly. Their father hadn't stayed around to explain what he'd been thinking, or how he'd gotten them into that mess in the first place.
He was distracted from these thoughts by being handed the diary. Without giving it a second thought, he opened the notebook to the bookmarked page and started reading. It was a bit hard to figure out what was going on, with no context, but it was clearly — not the sort of thing Ford read about often. He bit his lip, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"Is this meant to be poetry?" he asked. "It's not very good. The rhythm is off."
Set by Lady!
The man said he'd left a lot of debts, though, so of course he wouldn't have stayed around as a ghost, Ford thought a little bitterly. Their father hadn't stayed around to explain what he'd been thinking, or how he'd gotten them into that mess in the first place.
He was distracted from these thoughts by being handed the diary. Without giving it a second thought, he opened the notebook to the bookmarked page and started reading. It was a bit hard to figure out what was going on, with no context, but it was clearly — not the sort of thing Ford read about often. He bit his lip, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"Is this meant to be poetry?" he asked. "It's not very good. The rhythm is off."
Set by Lady!