*He had always approached war like a coin, there was heads and there was tails, Mulciber and Evans, the Dark Lord and the Order. Each had their niches, areas where he could dig a yellow finger nail into and hold it there. He'd balanced the coin perfectly on the table but only now does he give any consideration to the table itself. That third side, on which everything rests. The side where he has no niche, nowhere to sink a nail into, no hold or friction. There had been a time when Snape always had a defence and a lie, a fall back and a back up and the longer he sits here, blood drumming against the inside of his swollen limbs, he realizes now is not that time.*
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Date: 2011-09-01 01:49 am (UTC)