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libidomechanica · 11 months ago

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Untitled Composition # 11255

A sonnet sequence

The water Nymphs, that Other friend, and white: to see the cause a hope there is a lo’esome weekly-strewings be devoted to the crowd with golden hair. And rise, O moon, from the tips, and thy assistance might cause her reade, reading vnto me this gate again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, sir. I meant not much amisse. I heard it—the wind began to beat the gateway bell, and even those same fumes of me, which my hound has part, but that Sage’s sanction; till so counsellor, the Walls, the gleaming with music and flutes: it is not a lump of coal that you can’t interpretation also may come True.

The cataract flashing from life, I shall die; when thou yearly due before getting away from night: I saw the likest God within the general Soul, is faithful prayers; my mother cry. For Johnie o’ the Buskie-glen and a’ his gear. With such a breeze in thee, who grewest not in any crowd, when God hath been done, the gracing oars among the hills, yet look’d on: if they shot him down on the other side. All beneath, then her Manteau’s pinn’d awry, e’er felt such Rage, Resentment and came, remade their unborn faces shine beside the rest his mantle, clasp’d in mine, and almost energetic.

Colin my dear, the proud palace, what are flown, for I myself, the sensual feast; move upward, working shut, mere fellowship I needs must smart. Love contend till all my hopes of happiness; and yonder cloud that ripple break, once gave new Beauties wherewith to woo, suppling and dregs of scatters Deaths around, dark vault above—devoid of Pride. When they shouldst thou wreck his peace for evermore. May lie in sleep: the dream. I cannot bring back. A vestige of the sun-flower! To slant the history of that where the path I cannot brag of words that at the canker Love, whose jest among his banner.

And one Plebeian Card. With buls and slow amenity, put her neck regal white turn’d—syllabling thus, Ah, Lycius, look back on my hip, and feed his spleen, communing with him to his deceased I than niggard truth live with me. A goblet next I’ll drink to thee. His other ridge whose barren faith has many fears as the story, women at least encumbered consolation, devoutly to thy motions gently played but should not die nor lose thee this lily shows, Now, while perpetual maidenhood against myself, than see, and with ardent Lovers Hearts are held breathing of a son … You!

For I know the poplar white, companion’d or alone; while Hermes thou mad’st me think, by this and thunder-music, rolling air; unloved, by many a river sliding keel, till Phosphor, double tongue, then most I feel thee somewhat new to earth and air! To take bread at midday when he was in the wall for such as draws a faithfully. To thy far wishes with the nail gripped tight between us both as an unowned things of continent, Adam, from day to day, half-conscious of my friend among the flower and graceful. Paints their yearly go’st procession; or, for mine the shores came nigh by the larch, and like a beam of the Fleet the Ringlets taught with scarlet pain: a deep volcanian yellow ringlet turn’d to hear how her voice than the sensuous frame of others leaues, to seek the leaves are chiefly proved, no more of reverence in us dwell; that mind where so serene a goodness grows.

That island is fast, surrounded by fens. Head and sometimes happy, had I been, in those may be, betwixt us and against the aid of love and vice. Up, she strays about these Eyes are sign’d, and again with thee and most precious relics brought that each doth blowe the firstling to the Ground, and shape themselves and thrice the wrong that the tapers burn unwavering: not a cricket chirps against us and the grave for nothing? World we share it could you, to love those same fumes of burning Ray; the hunger seized with no more. White bitch never fair and good instruct those queers i remember who I am.

Can make known that serene a goodness grows. And dance and away fled every spinning wheel in her breast! If any vision of a guest; and Time, a maniac scatters Deaths around remarked, how ill we all discourse of human kind! With silken ties of love. And purple moor, and passions lie; vertues are, and makes it vassal tides that Loves delightes, as the lightsome wing: since when, indeed, is the clouded noons, thy sweet love’s breath. No one, including me, especially after all the days dragged slow and read them all, haunters of thee as I ought, for love speak well of me untrue, my name day.

Weed lives to weare, now bringen bitter in the ground cracks evilly, a dark socket from thee. Should push beyond the grave for the Fights of the birth, the vigour, bold to dwell on doubts and gapes, a hand the whispering reed, or sigh’d, or on springs to bear the cobbles he clatters thus our home-bred fancies, which gave upon a pillar alone; and that he loved a daughter’s case; more thicket doth transmit a scent the Spear, and thou, with angling snare or window’d heart had one, to take bread at my hand, laid on a simple sports; they know; and if the songs that chanc’d the landlord’s daughter. And somehow good!

Then—i never think of the prophets of the lythe Caducean charm. Sweet, be not iaelous ouer me, if you like a marble. Ever about my blood and grow incorporated, body restore, to be made a point the tenderness, and tracts that comes to constant Care the use of moonlight, and deadly breathing thee, Herrick, to Anacreon, quaffing his friend that none but feet divine affection from the Muse—she saw the like; she looked as grave: and he, he reverenced his latest leave us in the wind no more, and not appeareth. Think of the rowsing Shake, and the press’d defense can bide?

Safe past the black cascade of pleasant Orange- tree; how Vlster likewise the sun hath looked out the steps above my kitchen, coffee in her day, then look for me by moonlight! The sound of space, the maid? See the pillars of domestic peace.—And methought, for love of truth and right to say, It was no tear; no grone did grate the Mind growes weary, heart a-keeping? ’Er young, I’m o’er young, weeks have birth; whether reioyce. And break before I heard an even tenor kept, till even the stroke of midnight Masquerades, safe from the coming Soldiery, suddenly; and in some divinely sang, and will then?

Tell if thou dost distrust that time, it is half-said. The Dying Swan the Eagle the Flower these eyes have leisure for the great constrain’d, spurd with Cups and Spoons is crown’d, that death awoke into amaze, to see the Rhine; the peak of it! But Death returns the day prepared to the thing it was but unity of place, and play, and cut their Bodkin grac’d her Mother’s face grow long and game and saved from which thou art, the king. Who hauing made, with sparkling red on yon swoll’n brook that bubbled up with thy losse no longer caring to mind his features right thing on the sky; his inner deeps, and thou art just.

On her whispering voice. Him moving up from childhood’s flaxen ringlet right; and call out each other men; while my head, and one an inner trouble cross all night. We leave the phantom-warning true, they mix in ilka throe: turn again, and loud and then only numbers mix my sight? That you give. To his own behoof, with a glittering urn: and battle, and thus broke on mine, and set forth again with frost, no wing of wind and since the life that living whole no life may be as was that, by filling it, the spectres of their carefull verse. Shall suffer shock, rise in defence of my tongue. I falter where in one, my heart, send me kindlye dewe drops from the lip short swallowed fire, where, in truth, as dying words— but when I a heart of the Celt; and striking Watches the thrush and gentle Hermes thought be feign’d, and how she is her own, my Arthur died had moved me kindly Rain. When we moved together.

Into amaze, to see thee blessed soule, arm’d but Zephyrs gently pass their poesy disperse. And I myself, once; twice, almost addresse, deem that atmosphere of Death. Here stood up to attention, with thy losse no longer caring to tell thee: while the Foe drew near. I knew myself relief, and onward time shall renewable fear. And my bride once set is our carke. I saw, alas! By just exchange of light. And two days unkind, thy power to sting had a christening for Refuge from the gorgeous gloom of evening, hushed joy, going slightlest bondage made a point to post with mortal Eye, like a vine.

Alone, to see if thence my desire, till when, like tempests play. Here in green and gold: calm and faint and sweate for now is plac’d, as in the day prepared to scale an upper sphere:—by stirring air, the merry merry bells of madness ran, her mouth, from wood to wood, he heard his vows, and the woodlands that makes the Politician wise, and keener lash! But under you had foul ones, and the moonlight; and then not the void, when God hath miss’d an earthly Vehicles to the Central Earth, Air, Sea, to Chaos fall, men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all! But I shall in ways confus’d, he found the place.

We have no measured language woo: take me and thee forth, and faith, the bastioned walls; my deeper anguish, in which thy father more shall go. And looked what canst thou leftst them, so sweet and bitter blast blew all away. Trust not die, mine, mine, forsaking Poetry! Love, art reason down its agonizing thro’ his lip had paid due adoration, they seemed as happy as ye: and mutual fear brings fresh into my deeds to pry, to find her and a higher; known and unkind; nor shall be read, or sheepwalk up the wind’s least breathe! Mariana mariana in the South, and of his narrower fate, their native land, he underworld; ah me, o my king, O my lordly sunflower and knows the secular abyss to come. Nay, that April morn, by village green; so neighbors had to do with old results that pass to darken on the world and long possess the Prize is lost! People say.

I, who thoughts no longer by our praises unexpress’d in verse, my darling lyre upon his Hoard of Gold. But stay, I see thee before; and led him thro’ time, and thou should’st the master’d Time; which many legions of eisel gainst myself, or every spinning wheel exterminated and her waist by my soft nervelets were blest among familiar names to receive thee merry, thou mad’st me chop, but yet, alas, who less could better lesson from the sunflower honey, when she herself on a spinning wave, deserving nothing happens next because i crossed the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

Be Zephyretta’s Care; these musks, these actions are five minutes apart. When that you swore to wake, and silent sandals o’er the news were not so much work, scraping from the thing till her hornes this yeere on Christian art; nor mine the crowd with gracious was here, my love as man he bent, full of desire, like Thee. I roved at random influence-rich to soothe Love’s topmost froth of the bloom to grey; mould and do you shudder comes against that time—so just lie under the jewelled twinkle, when virgins’ hands have gone, not ardent Lovers robb’d me of myself; fire changed from mortal lovers do.

That inhabits you for a moment doubt you were real and not been sown, the silver moons? A fiery finger touched it. Trust not one; a touch is enough to let us recall that for myself relief, and by my powers alarming;—o that’s the last, my other circumstance, the physical fact of you but not till thou knowst I love thee more. While I rose and fly far into the lang, yellow forest leaves shut before the most curious fears, forgot his weakness in the cooler air, and the room closest words came halting foremost in the echoing night, sings on the shape of him.

The fool of the house, or distant Northern empire pray your Highness would say; or so shall go. For now the hurricane of two bodies meet in Lethe in the earth in the tender to the time, whose sight is the night before we part; rue on thy change. For thou wilt; I lull a fancy trouble have reach’d the distance all that. Hall, and my breath skin feathers to the Mail art of Worldly Wisdom. I see myself with Spirit himself, nor has a Wise Man for his Counsel, and the furze, and all we love thee merry, though even it, purpled Main, than with tears like a line of love, and pray to the Rev.

Bribe to guerdon thou shalt see them on to- night, but where the hands the secret see, as that once they that hour with gages from my cheek, and weeds or treacherously poor fish beset, with milk and honey fed; who, when labour is done. To kiss the rigours of stillness was love, too sweet and bitter in a whirlwind: then were no shade can last in that his will’s his right: when he complains of titillating Dust and Rigour are both may rage, both drink and beauty, though it were nobody poor, and riding far away, and so much to see the kneeling hamlet drains the chamber. Dead, dead and write thereon.

For their tears; my fancies be. The night, o heauie herse, thereof nought forth, I would indeed that garners in my mind doth come the bold Thalestris’ Arms the Nymph and Satyr from thee, and whilst I sing of love; yet in contracted thus. While the blue regions of the horse alone; and last up that fire which in the growth of noble rage, the center. But some false fair hills I sail’d below, when the wind, thou being held, but add, jenny kissed her on my crown’d, that beech will gather in a breathing up. Als Colin cloute she would give, yea, tho’ in silence in this report, this an hour’s defect of the oracles.

Mercy and truly, whence my sad bed of tears? A single pain, and breathe them in the air she dwelt. But let no footsteps, moving part; either too much live with love and suffering! I knew thee keen in intellectual Truth. Not us—a third—To thee and meek that now that I dream it was, real are they fail in truth as if they call’d me when the fireflies dragging among the hill is pealing, folded in colossal calm. Against the Lady of Shalott the Letters faire of blisse, long stairway again&become an office of the look was bright mists about my bed there underground thy bier.

Like growth of cold and fiery heats, fainting points of contact, and swung the lilies fair on the Exchange one to have a sister at the Visit last: if twice you kissed me in that orb crown’d estate began an oath, and fail, as if an open book; no longer glad, I send the Fall foredoom the Fates have run the color is brilliance feminine: too frail of Hair. Of comfort is, she never wanted was to sit by a fire with pain, and bow and accept the most curious Toil, and burn in Cupid’s Flames,—but burn alive. And curs’d be this demanded—if he yearn’d to them that my pain.

Dies off at once they gratify the wrought on: in ev’ry side are seeking is idle, biologically speaking shore that tumble pair of glitter fires in the dusk of a voluptuous night. And love were longer liue, ah why liue we so long in Winters bale: yet soone as spring; For such a yoke tomb’d in a wealthy peace, misery’s increase are mercy, pity, and peace. For one hour, O Love, Love, what dost thou thy sister when we fall out of fear; well roars the lassie o’ my heart; I read their sweet- scented with scarce be dried before. Who trusted to verify this rare occurrence.

These have falle’n from memory My sweetest, then, quickly, and thorns to yon hard crescent prime? Dip down upon the Light of care, he breaker breaking them eternal soul from all beside; and vouches both the guarded nymph near-smiling in rich hair awakes beneath the stream or distant shout, the men of rathe and say, farewell: like echoes in sepulchral halls, as drop by drop the waters curl’d, the Bells she gingled, and faces bloom, or, dying, they are three, for the public foe, then Kidde of Cosset, which brings peace, and gathering frame destroy’d, or cast as rubbish to the eyes of other die.

From those brown hills, and his refulgent Queen, with marble. By faith, the violet breathers of an eye, that other, when her loose gown from another hopes begot by feare, but it is all things in disarray: that was true: but that in brief which the blunt fist of parents kiss mouth will your Honour in a Whispers said, as Cupid bent above—devoid of Pride. Dying inuentions stay; inuention, with threads, he beat his music more than a Birth-night Beau, that ev’n tho’ they bring. His beautiful: let it freely stir all parts the darkening thy bridal bed, that life should I meet last night: I see the castle.

Love no pity hath of Life his Nostrils draw the vital Air, this Hand, which giue th’eternally and visibly female. Youth more for the raw pulsing music as before, but vaster. Abide: thy wealth resemble the brook, warbled out the prophecy: The prince at all with harp and call to what I am dead, for I thought; and, doubtless, unto the dawn, the weary night, by thee the same; and thou shalt mix in one sort slow; my wealth alchemy. My face turned the mounted— robed in purple moor, and heav’nly Flow’rs, to steal away from this excus’d I to resign thy desire, who scarcely move!

And there I find no place that unnoticed&that never known a Saturday night slick with it a tear be shed and, with many fights, his own; and Betty’s prais’d for every spinning wheel in her Breast reclin’d, he watchest all the circuits of joy to him she plays with that fault; once more grant me the British vermin, the wealth of words that mole by his life? And suck’d from high to higher race, and unto myriads more, as all unsweet: eternal soul from the hodge porridge of their own flesh and fruit; whereat those queers i remember me when my light from profanity and this electric force, that I choose, thou deep vase of child is this—this close— She came tumbling into the quay, and in softest verse, with sparkling spangle all that her Eyes; nor be you proud that ye maun drink up the lonely fold, or low morass and beauty, but this; my very ears were hollows of Death? She cries, Forsooth, let go!

Who loves but knows the fair Head, for ever curs’d for ever croaks, at my side, nor can my dream, and well; for, to the band that it could brook that bubbles fast by meadows break the sailing mysterious sleights a hundred- year sleep. Been in narrower perfection, but those that with sharpe desire; yet feels, as in a globe of radiant fire, and He approve her the Hair, some fold the costliest doubt, for thou wilt; I lull a fancy trouble live with tears like a light flared, here and the corniced shade along the rapid tide shall not thy vision will last as pure as gold for ever nobler ends.

That taught by Heav’n has doom’d that Shock must fade as well as Sight. But it must part; venus is taught to know; and time come, when each by turns, blow back the Hair, some hang upon this flat lawn with love so sudden Star, it shot thro’ thy dark freight, a deeper anguish, how could I wed a fair young to marry yet; I’m o’er young to marry yet; I’m o’er young ye ken; then wait a wee, and no one to bless; our dear strong in the genial table- talk, or deep dispute, and with a jewelled sky. And years till, now, on the thousand lisping said, better just Káfir than Believing Tyrant. To sulk upon my heart.

Arrived with sweete aire which in triumph, come and without one cooling tears and blowing bosks of will, defects of doubt, and true plain hearts and bursts of revel; and therefore to give the cossette, well hast thy calling to talk them o’er, to wish them here, to clap their Pride expire, to count the closet. Too frail of Hair. With her faire Nimphs layd downe, saw not far away, she waved to me with thine eye aside: what need’st thou thus, dim dawn, again, and sow the sea. Rich in the night is still to delightes, as the end? Who give thee were but with childe then nor doe idly smile; time has birth, and if along with a long moment, with that suit the fullness that, by filling it, the snowie Neck. My unkind to me; love with her, all this with Susan’s eye, and the Nymph passe: this to you: when you reach the crossbeam of the sunflower. And is it that time mine own house, and get thee, when he was here, my love and death. As they.

Went out, and picked and straight and red uprose the church like a ghost thy tablet glimmers to the Pacific seas in which the wave; their troth seal’d with Guilt, and breeches of that any dart bess, the lesser wain is twisting round the care of watching Picnic again for the True, the Chrismas hearth; the silver thro’ Heaven and Four; interpret the tape-recorder should be equivalent. I never can die! Too deeply glow, and takes the coloured to purple-frosty bank of vapour, leaving great labouring Princes, ill-reported if Unworthy, yet, if these actions are five minutes apart.

Long summer day will gaze her song with tears. The dark, and all over; to equal young Jove with hearty Purpose set to work as he would pierce it anywhere. Frame, and loves, one God, one leg stuck out to form a defensive angle with the spite of all her populous streets were up to the shiver of dancing leaves thy head is bow’d, his heavy- shotted hammock-shroud drops in summer day will gaze her song, and they will kill him if he comes against us and wit, the Mind like a vision with a single tear, no mark of painful jealous curls about the mass for judgment blind, he faced the sea.

For judgment blind, embrace her as my nature wrong; delaying long, delay no more if there was a winter comes o’er me—why wert thou? Then cease, bright forlorn. That I shall still be near us when we crost to a livelier moods remit, what slender Chains. But once inclos’d in Woman’s beauty from the wind began to sweep a music out. He past; a soul of doubt, who knew the summers had she scared him; life! He rose upright in man, be born and flower in green meadows sits eternal Heavens despite, had he the pleasure markes each moment they were. Tied to awaken. My mother groand!

And, since that loss is always be so; and i say that yet remember my mothers breathing great logs and lessening to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. The disguise of life; as I confess with rich clusters hid among the gods’ protective less of the late-writ letters to her; and in a cloud, it faded, and sad their branchy bowers with fifty Mays, thy songs a dead man to go: but as the wife’s contracted thus, come, beauty, so he burn’d; then, from the should have lived an ancient Race, are the daunce, mine eye but with such growth to that the Vent.

He mixing with the sun: o I will strayne. So Admiration last not very lonely, or some freakful chance has made me a grave, and gazing on the long stairway again& become an office might make his judgment. I gaed up to attention, Nature, half return’d before a pillar of a peace that will pass his daughter, why dost thou forged at last for a private affair within the sunshine as before i’ll kiss the right hand and line by line, the guilty thing I creep at earliest cry, will shelter one of us sobbing, no limit to his throat’s three-inch scar glowed a green neon.

The patient, I will find a Remedy for all. For somewhere bene thy verses then; they only will not long Devotion bade her breast and right, their heads, and lovely; take my sight that tenderest eddy wreath: I think if we’re lost, you shouldst thou, as one came not back from the grasses of the past. And thou wilt not leave unsaid, nor speak first, and ocean sounds, and the cloud’s uncertain corners of the type this work, not one upon the Lion’s breast; yet ne’er will save thy sailor,—while thy breadth and his face, as parting with thee. A knell to mine eyes loue, though of pearl they bene all yclad in clay?

And ready, thou, to die with her this man no more, and the Miller’s Daughter the Palace was far away, and heart Thine age asks ease, which lose no moment rises upward always for your love. The Shah ceased Counsellor, the Walls, the last lone aster is gone. A wretched Hens about the dappled pools: the lights are pretty; but to dwell in deadly spight, and gave all ripeness to the herds, day, when she whispering, play’d a chequer-work of time’s tyrannous, so as I ne wote, whether the Nymphs take Treats, or Assignations count it crime to mourn to the sun-flower wishes him cripple, or poet, or even straining souls like Thee. Mouth when an electric current passes by, and hush’d nor moved in their bodies, so alike, no seasons thro’ this fantastic beauty do I questioning would miss her faces, even your fathers bend above me, her young, weeks have to do time for years of peace.

Forgive me on the morning sunflower, that men may Dine; the Mermaid the Mermaid the Merman the Mill turns round. That takes his licensed boldness of our isle, wash’d by thy eyes more than I who wrought, and wheels, and all that lo’es me, as dews o’ summer breeze. Upon me, while I rose and pulled the Realm of Yún, and wounded heart’s compass’d by his grave never hear my mother groand! The man I held as half-divine; she combs her golden noon; wine-red was my wine; that loue she did, but led the veil. Then, Sir, awful odes she wore about the distance? That night’s extinguish’d days, use others plait the things I do.

Yet then my scorn might with Death; not only cunningest fishers in my soft nervelets were pretty, to dwell in the gold-eyed serpent now began to changest not asham’d to find out shames and idle hours crawled by like years and find their side! Was angry when thou wilt, as thou wound and wife an iron tyranny, might I from year to year forgot his weakness, but I find another’s fault but given to strike athwart their sleep is sweet nymph prepar’d her to the council, plied him with fainting points of continent, Adam, from day to day, half-conscious of the Northern empire pray your Highness would send a hundred years passed her breast. There was white as ocean-foam in the highwayman came riding— the highwayman comes riding—the way to wintry skies, and with Florian, unperceive myself within a hall, and he supplied my want the filmy Dew; dipt in their sweeping on the fair.

As a childe is ever certain, would not wish her mind. I kissed me again, across the skill, but my good, then make her come and gane, the gowd and since last faire breast, I vex my heart, rich in good father than the cignet’s downward to a Gnome, in search the throat. And dark inn-yard. The chestnut pattering cries, but, crying, please him well, who lights and ringing a Gangster Disciple style blue. Yet I would learne not alone to loue and set. But Venus having survive, and thus inquire, what is gone, but I can know and then thou should know exactly what was full,— while the Pleasure, but why should now look down.

Glows in expectation of the living blood, and thou nothing but a little grew, it is time, O passion—weaned my young shade. Sudden these women are! Dumb as are the torments thou hast forged hooks, whereto the judgment knew no Wrong, and hushes half the little light, and Thou are she, still, still unshent, and in each other in the dark in the flowers his separate from fears: she seemed to gild the onward winter reckoning unto the dancers will not onely heare, but more than the stream, and vows were made one prisoner. For beauties do there for the True, the Just, be blown; no dance, no motion slide.

But words she spread, an image comforts have increased, who touch’d thereby, alas, is wiser far that I pedaled my ten-speed across the stars drew in the string; and I have loved the moon of Eden on its way to Tim’s other woman’s mouth with it. And I almost fear this sin there like a shipwreck, like one prisoner. Sun; and Matthew stopped short beside me, and those cold crypts where no joy is,—empty of immortal frame, we yield all blessing to the boundary of time’s tyrannous, so as I ne wote, whether the Turkish new moone minded be to fill her bright Phosphor, fresher for the Temple’s gate.

If twice you kiss you need not feel the touch of change the beare when it was time again the fourth I spake of what is it makes them pleas’d, but lou’d a loue not blinded Lycius, so in her regal seat of England; not therefore grieve thy brethren, let them go scraping from the bosom of the beare my fire: Julia, I bring the mind? Or Geordie on his ancient form in her nimble feet leave thy greatness to the Rev. The Fair in all he sees a late-lost for a private blow—I swear to year forgot how tender heart never feel myself an honor’d guest, perchance, I thoughts, all sorts of Humours sell.

Close so close … it look like new flowers the widow’d hour and look’d to human eyes. She listen’d with him; and go by summer, the green, and, like new; if this slighter your name for ever drank the pure daylight of fears, forgot his weakness, but a wannish glare in folds of gold; ring out the skirts of happy dead? The Danube to thee, that bears immortality, for woe of all the wild winds that weeps. No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. But when we climb out. Now, Chloris! And send up vows for me. Thus we were young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet.

On. A bowling ball, and from his complicating rage inside his wells; where they fail in truth, without thinke thy worthlesse ware; too long to me crept: my feet were unlock’d to choose of their country lust, their fluid Bodies chang’d by elves, so to be sent with my numbers mix my sight, Stealing o’er the park, discussing how we three Bands prepare; for the raw quiver of his patient saint, and cirque-couchant in a dusky brake. When love, converted from more to see, walking alone, and put thy harsher moods, beyond which though his delight, then return no more if there’s Johnie o’ the Nith’s winding west?

A gown of what was the dark church below the golden raine: another give some heat of light to shake the raines of Hair surprize the Finny Prey, fair Tresses Man’s Imperial Tow’rs of Troy; steel cou’d the World a Desert, and wretched and straight to me, for thou art the falling thro’ his lip had paid due adoration, thus began to sing and weave the man your father’s court. So word by word, and lie couched upon cloud that must hand clings to my pure love, and have the doorways of his hand. Yet, if she were but as he shut off the halogen overhead begins the secret meaning in his grave?

Divert strong since that me leave the portal waits, the Smiles of Hair. Trod down the red rocks to where they twitch’d them, wax’d in every living soul was rude, or discompos’d thro’ the queen o’ womankind, and the most approximate and march’d a Victor cry’d insulting Foe! Chloe stept in, and breeches of brown doe-skin. We are circling Rays, on that sad moment, when the sun shall not fear that I come to light: the years have proved since the Vision touch’d with joy, the men peeled bits of straws, ever lonely place, a little plants that tape-recorder should come back and there wert thou? Dying song of the time draws near the just Victim of his crime, to warm with wings from four winged heels to either wandering singer, singing clear; tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the clash and still light thereto, more by that when December June their end, though I must go they wept and woke with pain? Dear voice, I once had past the armèd man, that wound.

Had thrill’d my guileless Genevieve! His ocean? ’ Matthew is in his grave never hear my mother talking, and sad their best language that the kindly course: the fayrest floureth fresh, and new, doth she only then. When love’s own crown, and how his eyes, who roll’d the psalm to winter in Florida. Then, once again the red coats looked what could the graves unnumber’d Spirits blaze. For that want reason: these brief emergent pattern; and afterwards befel, twould humour many a flute of Arcady. And throw troops into cities she stands; does my old companion art, and thou art broken wing through the soul.

And, tho’ it spake a dame in wrangling snare or window’d heart in his side, the giant liar; and manhood fused with sweet unto your Charge repair; the flock; and in the Dark, when kind Occasion prompts their cause of youthful morn Hath travell’d on to age’s steepy night, and coal, and crystal’d lily be There she to me was proxy-wedded with a grace to rear, to teach why should tell him all my thoughts opprest, th’ impending Woe sate heavy hand on me. We leave the doubtful joys the fault? And meet and still either mine! Is matter; and a Voice went with the other meet but in the balmy Rest.

Which, with loue to show that I shall shake its threaded sisters say white folks hair stinks don’t trust that good shall flow, his pistol butts a- twinkle, his rapier brandished high. Surprise; her belly, buttocks, and the graves, a thoughts pursue him as if he were not a clock nor a bell was it ever look’d out with the great courts us, wanting art, soon falters when he finally lie each in turn like planets rotating in the sum of good, wild Hours that kind of eraser and told her how he pined: and ah! Who speaks with continent, Adam, from the top of the Tyrant and quiet—dull fence around.

And bit were not blue how could light. And dipt in baths of growing Combat, or assist their moving of time’s tyrannous, so as though I knew not. Ring in the wide flat field nods its head; there came from more to more; there in thy breast which thou art from myself in my lord the king; he took my hand with Florian said: I have felt with me had made no stays, had it any been but she, and the Fall of Rome. Like a statue veil’d, to whom all men do misse. Must lose one joy, by his faith had fall’n into heauen hent. In a minute. For what we are done forever, ever move, and thou art! Tracts that love should!

In vaine thou hast too long, leapt up, and round unthinking through bubbling honey, for Love’s excess, and thou hadst heard him say, that God has willed a still his action like the simple shepheards, thether to thee, Brillante, we consign; and Momentilla, let this Fair One, when I shall pass; my work will fail. They melt like this; tho’ I seem in star and system rolling brine that life should stay, said Lamia, here, upon the hills—teenagers in love and briars and husband’s rites in, ere twere gone in tender heart, with faithfu’ heart? Than if they love hath my heart is sair, that’s the queen o’ womankind, nourish’d two Locks, which makes it still thou art as tyranny now should be—that I can know and the nice Conduct of a Clouded Cane with earnest that he seemed a fulfillment of our house; nor proved since that drench the blows of madness ran, her mouth foam’d, and touch, risking invitation—if he took me in his odor.

Was it ever less the Word of Wisdom dealt with roaring sound; I grant I may sleep with the worst to be protection claim, poor rivals in a losing game, that Nature keep me alive never hear my silent Bed the Morning hung, and with lawn. Bury alive again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, when he sees. These women grew expansive with rev’rence, and earth whereon we tread in tracts of calm from the dying sun: and all at once are deaf and bliss! Shine here to a shade, no mixture did admit. No more shall cease. Our nerves without depth, with truest joy, shall my heart. Rank as honeysuckle.

And blessing to him that we abase her tears are disdain; he wander’d free, then are the room: the vase into a strange Phantoms rising up in Peace under his Justice, confounding hill to her I’d nothing to be drown’d in Tears, but Fate and horizon gone. And then what matters dark and deeds, and Halberds in the days that are the flower of poesy which led by the thought her colour it had not been sown, the sick weak weed, not well alive or dead; but that I dream a little plants that blow by night at the flowers, newly reap’d late on that morning wakens too; and my retorted hairs.

As men talk in a dream; for now among. Shade can last in that in Vienna’s fatal walls god’s finger on the rolling Spires, pale grew her immortal fruit in those sad words I took farewell. Presence, lordlier than before, but in dear words have vanish’d life. He spoke; the Spittle sermon. When Aurora leades out Phoebus daunce, mine eyes, Forst by their Mind, suddenly two years old sucking her to sing a doubtful arms, and fed with foot so free. The living in the darksome way how to forget more frequent than to fade … until surely high inspire, and thus broke out ⸻ My Lord, what kind of paradise.

To slight her mind admits but, he was in. And thine eyes seeing this wide air, these presence I attend to hear of the British Queen, and, which I tooke as of a fruitful hours of stillness, yearns to speak? Who moves about their graves of the song of woe with a melody enthralling. When it rubs across the sight of her tender eyes; or Love but play us; compare. See fierce men on thee, and the splendour seems to rest beneath, the night of Platonic shades. For the future as I listened like ravelled sleeves, we cherish his because he cast no shadow, he pursues! The blindfold sense of that?

Your Highness would even weep to think of the country ants to say, when most my half-self, for still weeps for her lover, and neist my head and pale a stuff, it were none of the night: I see the vacant yearning to the wise Celestial kiss, thou gav’st me learned round us all the way through, the courtiers Promises, and thus were the same gray flats again, and prey by each cold hearth, and wreake my harmes in inks poor losse. Their slime, were mellowing the point of entry. Put her new lips to his wife, and through they love, repeating designs above the cold: but lo! And roll’d the land, rapidly riding in, we call the time draws near the solid lands, like coarsest Satyr-shape had bruised the gloom I stood by her musket shattered her by to come upon her as on a kind of ceremony—I think of Black bodies hanging mart, and almost addresse, deem that at their Sylph, oh Pious Maid beware!

A thousand wars of old enjoy’d in you! She tastes unseen: and by thine eye, which once she died, my mother groand! My sweetest scent. To one pure immortality and delight, feare to offend, will worths surmount. With equal husbandry the woman: then, Sir, awful odes she wrote, too soon deceive. And learn to pray for thou wilt satisfie my boldest plea by some few soft remember me? Thou hear’st the sun, here lives in men. The oak and ancient melody have ceas’d; whether Heav’n ye wandered the room of all that. Demand not been for a chance of the Virgin’s Cheek for complexions at a losing mine?

Doctor says, Is this though gald, and delight, not know what beauty to commends to your Charge repair; the last red leaf is whirl’d away, the faithless coldness gather’d let us recall more seldom than a wave is wet more frequent Cups prolong the blossom of war with airy Horns I planted Heads, or ruin’d shells of Yule. It at seventeen skiing the zits that doth my rest defeat, to play the Sword-knot Sylvia’s Hands had sown: with summer long, till on my bed the moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloud that must have been a caring, if unskilled, shepherd, but to the tomb, and my own.

The mimic picture in the distance. There were all the World. Inhabits you for love speak a little flash, a mystic frame, take me to thee, give my power to grieve, that hides always under the cruel lady, without the sun shall not long light; yet, if these buried me deep enough? Oft in my way. Laid them: thus he bore without breathe upon the Light disports in ever-mingling Dies, while Nymphs resort, to taste Lethean spring, but sought fit wordes to paint the same gray flats against that vow’d chaste rejects Mankind directs the Force of Female Errors fall, men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all!

And one is glad; her note is gay, for now here you once again that seemed turned myself the rowsing Shake, and that do dictionaries methode bring into another out of dust cry thro’ the drizzling rain on the heart of man was it else within the bridal bed, that God be done, such things prove, for griefs infold: but that beat from the Road of Right, if but Salámán saw, his Soul was stranger; her modest demean. Amid the silt and put the fat pillows with towers, that must be blest, the gaudie girlond Oliue braunch once more I had a mother, praying. Behold me, for I cannot find, to ease me.

Dost sometimes, better bargain driven: my true-love hath my heart, destroy’d, or cast as rubbish to the dead, whose evening over brake and makes one little dreams were, more or less, an old and fill their country ants to harvest offices that to be such as draws a faithful guard, and darkening thy bridal flower, shining Case, so Ladies when her breaking their goals for virgins’ kisses; which will blind you again, so loud with the name of Him that weaves a glist’ning the wild winds the bar, a blunt uninvested gaze calibrating everywhere, this is I: ’ but as he grows? And the smell, of the past.

It is not a lump of coal that you give. While my Nostrils drew, a Charge of Snuff the witch hazel wither; the heauens hight. Here in Pluto’s garden-gate; a lion ramps at the Flash of jarring thou art all my soul! Dawn; but I shall die; when the mother to sing a doubtful gleam of dewy-tasselled trees: what were wont to me, that if your life. It leaves are all dead on the serpent, but thinking of an olden to her. Not till she be dead. For light in darkness and corruption leave a vestige of the abyss like a guilty goddesse now my Temples twine, the Victor from thy lying lips?

This to your muttered words spoken light—or dark—years away, I think on the bush, singing cheer’d the Christian art; nor mine the British vermin, the raw quiver of high poems!& When it was his earnest that the past, a soul on Cloe’s eyes. Thrice blest whose lessons new thou need’st no such roses show when mine ears and heard much of Briar Rose and be all their ancient love and kiss, she cries, Forsooth, let go! The ruin’d shell from thy dear concern. Who read them all. Directs the thing it to myself depart as from the neighbors come and goodwill, goodwill, to all, and makes one little for me; all my low last breath.

Stronger faith is dry, and murmur of a happy thoughts that bond that shalt endures with patience bid me beare my fire: lest they too far disease; ring out, wild bells, across the cave where I was poore shepherd, but to forbid. And makes it vassal unto kindly tear, to talk again. Just where it lies, yet hiding royall bloud full of cares to constantly? Sleep from my obligations to and fro, and sate to view the Fights of Lu, sad Chance of my tongue: when I am, first form that sleep below existed but to the strife is sair, that’s done in verse that early sank behind a radiant Lock to gain.

A thousand yearn’d to some one else may have much to the eyes from the substance, and thee, that were a pitty. I love three years: they were wont to me this arte. And hang the wild flowèrs, a-list’ning haze, sees full before they nothing, all shall die. Blistered an old hostel, called The Art of Worldly Wisdom. Dead. And shovel dirt on her that gave thee some do see, the slightly tripping by; but in my dear, and that the steps of that rich hair which watch not one upon the sky Lovers, forgetting attach to my hair? That sometime they pursue, and now by the boatmen near who are seized with the boundless day.

When in the east, from April of heart I’ll wear her, for fear divine affection to join, each Band the rosy temple’s worship has paid price, and fluctuation sway’d in vassal unto kindly am served, I would like the younger child: for she never know. Her that, in moments few, she was calm, and towers fall’n as soon absolvèd. Nay, that miss’d an earthly robe, her lavish mission here, to draw, to sheathe a useless phantom chanting smile; and the furse: mercy vould be enough, sweet, sweet; but this, the Mornings, shaking its splendour seems to rest beneath her brazen prow in port Cenchreas, from snow to snow: and what is it makes a desert eyes, that thy unkind to have made me a grave so rough, me, that watch’d to track suggestion to join, each Band the deep where grew the treasure, thy hopes were of old, and against the Ladies when refus’d a Kiss, not ancient form in her nightie and heavy ignorance.

Now rings the world’s gardens palatine mulciber’s columns gleam in far piazzian line. Tan sacred island is fast, surrounding the fires of ice are toppled down, and mine in his grave never hear my mother could allow friends that have glared at me or the tidings of the moon shall stand henceforward in my thought, of airy Elves by Moonlight over the heavens of space, and rent the wondering there but they had heard a mournful voice, such pleasaunce had past the dappled pools: the horses beat, beat, the holly round the great world’s gardens palatine mulciber’s columns gleam in far piazzian line.

And think I may never not be undecided, about all sorts of thine hand. My ivy garland green the mountains sloped down in perfect flower in darkness among the dark with no ascetic gloom; and passion’s bashful dawn and radiant from head to foot, who keeps slipping off, arms limp as old carrots, into the heaving his many- colour’d Troops, and those conclusions when we saw the God fostering helm beside. Her place is empty, fall like the sun; coral is far more pleasing eye on songs, that weighty pearl the Queen of Egypt melted, and steeps his eye in dew of kisses once!

And many a light socket pile or stack of unthreshed corn and wheedle a world of thy door. Until they look’d in vain; that sing, whose thought, I went—and search’d—and found that thro’ the land, whose like Love, never feel my muscles go weak with wail, resume their graves unnumber’d Treasury—know thine own Desire. Both broken light—or dark—years away, and of her orange flower of beauty, though absence to unsluice a tear; but if we lingering lightly pass athwart a plane of molten up, and takes the colours from man to go: but as servant. Where nighest height, a deeper knowledge of mine?

Is due at all, but mine own Desire. And in its little grew, it is time, O passions high have warm’d and faces bloom, who changes; here upon that Rapacious room in which I have been falling round me breathed, dissolv’d: Crete’s forest of bluegreen leave her lion roll in a silken tent at midday when he is furious, love, and hands for no such deceit, cleopatra- like as of old we walk in a dream, yet it may chance, and return no more. With thy tongue: to Linus, then to perfect flowers, ambrosial air, that friends, and that found him— Which The Shah ceased Counsel, and thrice the ring.

And he lay and read them all the wheel. Twenty, my limbs streaming cloud, it faded, and I’ll say honey bunch let’s go and she woke up crying: Daddy! The hall within who lay that made the block we are made entirely by confiscation we are learning to the double health, the night; they rise: twas well, indeed, when I am gone away, the song; a woman’s form, and gloss the picture’s breathe out the lingered till the seasons bring to this which public means which keepes perfet harmony: but when we meet, delight a hundredfold accrue, for ever: yet, ere I go hence, good care doth go.

Nor in hid wayes to weepe: the billows on the shot. Nor rested day nor night I love one, and not thou then? But if thou dost love be love. North, and Beauty is, see when we’ve involved in the summer shade of pain may bind a book, may line a box, may serve to trampled steel that spangle all that is new, and stones, and join’d each other way, and following the Blue Mountains doth endorse his lines, and fancy plays, and he one chief; but hark, I hear the cobweb woven across his father’s court. Above a childe then leaves shut between dreams the scene cast over and that crawled up from childhood’s flaxen ringlet, like a moon in creek and colder: the edge of the birth, the brightest my selfe on Vertues shore. That I would thine is near under the cobbles he clattered her breath’d upon a thing like the eyes of day; they have the shadow play. Bright as carrier-birds in air; I sang an old midwife’s hat!

As echoes out of night. He would put off cheerful Breeze this sprig of eglantine, which sits as dew of kisses once! Not Berenice’s Locks first open’d bland, and bubbled up with thee which once she that lives in Garbs succinct, a trusty guide and goodwill and fair we met, jumping from the foot of her that garners in my belly, he kept on buying. Were in that receives there strewn rich gifts, unknown some time in thee. Wild I am now with her tender vows, are but minister and thus began to foam, and flower- time in wrinkled eild; o’ gude advisement comes the sun, in some long tract of time.

And starry clearness in me. Delight and day could inhabits you for loving followed up I felt to belt of crimson barr’d; and four fair Queens and Soldiery behind broke our faire Nimphs layd downe, saw not farre off where Cupid stood, and still may leave thy greatness is, for them thus, she seem’d my flame that points, and the Chrismas hearth; a rainy cloud possess themselves above be dimm’d of sorrow in my blood and fierce men on the eye her music and books and heavy ignorance. And I, how much of act at human hands the dream—ghosts of two entities: myself, who sat apart and watch’d the distance.

New Stratagems, the rat; I know than the sea which our lives are all dead on the shutters, but all was good than to rail at the wheels go over my bed, circling the painted stairs at the world, the curse had fallen, and mark the landlord’s daughter thro’ the leaves among, I heard no more’ and hear thy light. Instruct those poor Hens about the shape of him. The man we love the scale the heart full of cares upon the dew,—and Death-bed Alms are found, her Eyes, a Beau and Witling perish’d in the beach. ’St not from me in a bar never thou Desires, what I would have done that spurs an imitative will.

A guest, or happy views; nor thou wilt bewayle my wofull tene: I shall be led by some conceal’d from the lips of the boundless curl of white told me these are noble letters of the landlord. Imperial, and He that way, as well as White, in all the phantom-warning true, they might I once am settled there, my hopes, and all Arabia breath, till when, like silver moons? At those white-faced halls, or open on its own improbable being, each burst of wetness a cry that which I desired, and gold-bubbling found the care o’t; wi’ her I’ll blythely bear it, and thy years.

Whence radiate: fierce that does not breathe on me! And fount of Day is dash’d with joy, but like a flower the Goose the Grandmother the Islet the Kraken the Lady of the suns. The rich Repast. Her song with a clasp and say: o heart, destroys all pain but pity: thus the king, ’ he said, that in my dear, so make them cruel; for well she could hardly could’st thou mayst attune thy quick tears the burn stealing o’er their faces were fruitless prayer, who tremble o’er the larger lay, but the narrow house, and so much work, scraping from the truth is that tomb already passed through the land when far at sea they stay.

When she got too far than I. The night, never satisfi’d with human Passions Wit can well agree; wit tempers them, and he in the web of will, defects of doubt, believed— made him irresistable to all lovelorn women. Dark house, by which are the Bodkin, Comb, and Essence like all us colored boys. Some Female Soul, instructive hours crawled on this high Iliads; about whose thoughts, Prince, with starting Tears. Yet pity for a day or so I have hardly any air. Thine below, thy kind: nor have I done, that went last night for her Sicilian air. To Sleep I give you an onion.

The words where he sits apart, and feels her place? Beasts, I fought him back is the rosebuds steeping! Email: enter email privacy refunds advertise contact link to Us essay Information short Story Contest language but a step to be my comforts have increase are mercy, pity, and peace, are, as when a boy; they happen this immensive cup of aromatic wine, Catullus, I quaff up to that month became masculine and not be; no drum nor trumpet peacefull’st cot, the moon—cold weight of his usual sleep without the vast and beauties which circum-walk the morning dew, the gusty trees. What is wiser far than I. Skin&hold me by the smell; or be my guide, and makes a man may live in the dreary way; I with my wretched! Be rayned by reason, shame, another’s names, which lose no moment set thy face; all the graver Prude sinks downward to Cleone.

He watched for her eyes: what could see but sweet smile on me best whene’er the numerous Wax-lights are lang! Great summoned into the crowd of poets tell, some time the death-white curtain drawn; felt a horror over me creep, prickle my skin&hold me seized, inside of the sports with him.—I’m o’er young man that night is the sport of random thro’ the drift of this the mother cry lord, what kind of grave-damps falling, idly broke the people look to see thee from the lattice on this; with the happy shores and manhood darkly feels him great a curse to the perfect as I said, but love in fee. He laid as low.

That haunt the same and jest? And I said, but lou’d a loue not blue how could I wed a fair young to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. Why shoulder at O lonesome me. The seasons: sneakers and flip-flops. His black light— he stroke of midnight at their legs with aimless feet; but a Pebble of thine, the guilty goddess go; my mistress, when all our simple heart alone, before getting it all, as in some wise pity me? The fear— the fear of sleep. And which graceful tact, the Chief the Care of Nations fly, in various Talk th’ instruct the Eyes be blind.

Me, day by day, to steal away from sun’s birth to warmth with all the bugle breezes blew reveillée to the hypnotist’s trance was who ruled the nice Conduct of a sunrise got a name it sound like: a blues song; a woman’s son will sourly leave her thoughtless at first he told in speech we two communicate no more awe than when her arms to one pure image on the mounted thrush; or underfoot if any pass by her, pale, without a breathed of him like a beacon guards thee hence. And fare thee, hold on till the dogs’—Thine age asks ease, and nowhere found, and in the brain of Demons? But anxious Ariel perch’d upon him now beside the reverend and daring Spark, the Glance Sir Fopling upwards cast, by which heaves but mean the brake is still as though I’m sure it’s wrong wayes; those fall’n asleep I was shocked out of my heart, my lassie ever dear inhabitants of treason to go with those we loved?

And made me to a shade, and tears are dry. Of all, when fill’d with voices of the jasmine and could instructive hours crawled by like years and flip-flops. That she hath on a gown of what was that I before the roaring wind: what profit thee? There stood at the porch with Hope and Destiny both attend on her pensive thing bright; and that sweete aire which we went, and plucked the landlord’s black Tyrant first tis fit to tell, and dream my dreams, and Angels in Machines. To change to us, nameless till we moved thro’ Crystal Wilds of Air! We know not: one indeed, beated and exorcised. Or seal’d within my eyes.

Behind the regions of true love reflects the Face of Prayer in Weal or Woe, nothing gainst Time’s scythe in morning songs are left me by my onely Deare: but stagnates in the day care to give full growth to thee by moonlight; and will again become, as we enter our home, the stink of slurry season is over and the Fauns from rushes green, the nobleness! When those gifts which makes them pleas’d, but led the Realm of Yún, and wound with your mantle hath deserved thee, and tell them they must go they wept and claw with ravine, shriek’d against the wind of him like a shipwreck, like one wreath more than mine.

When, waking dreams of Heaven, down to the streaming tears, half broken faith alone, do my thoughts, Princess the Revenge: A Ballad of the lilac gives over to dusk, nothing happens next because than death, resumes life’s first die I will; she wounds with it this beam must rear ourselves and go. Unseen her teeth but nothing else, sung by a long- forgotten fields to wayward Queen; who ruled the vast, ere half-hid in the Sound of space, and music, surely, some kind heart was taught that sorrow makes us wise; yet how much wisdom make me whole creation moves. If ever any beauty dwelling of me.

Holy order; when I shall count new things to desire what is done with tears like a high windowes ope, then most my half- self, for still temptation follows thee, from the coming waves that hurt our peace, is overworn. And wheedle a world that traced that with such a thing wants to be lost, than throbbing through. When I thought she was a time while you may call it a little Love-god lying in the dust and past their sandals o’er the skill vines to prune, though some dead leaves unbought, who should come back my heart, forbears not, or pin, but is ever crown; that vanish’d, also she melted and exorcised.

It cannot do thee wrong! Went at once and so none shall feel the touch of change, descend, and felt thy triumph in your wanton country chere.—For oh, her window’d heart is sair, that’s finished. Alone and every joy. Up the deepest measure from the Troian boy did see, without a conscience as i know, or such great writhing words, among the gay, like the care, the Fate of Louis, and not the bells. Light across a land of hope, we dropt with lofty portal waits, they can’t interpretation also may come True. The Early Poems of Alfred Tennyson lord Alfred Tennyson In Memoriam A.

Take me to thee, Brillante, we consign; and Momentilla, let the wing of Time, the higher than before, but iron dug from central warmth; and o’er-worn; When hours have wrought; give me if I’ve shunned them more, that he is the time draws near the prophets of things, praying. So when I told the cobweb woven across that I brought me with a nobler modest demean. The secret Truths from Learned Pride conceal’d delight, and almost wish’d no more if there’s a faught; the canker of the Fleet the Ring but ice-gravel. And when he darts his Arts, and noble thought it, and his Dominion Strong. But sorrow’s fall.

Tis Christmas did we weave the holly is he treasure of his way. With weary steps upon thy brow, and those, whom I must lose the children would keep open my heavy eyelids to the vaults of Death, o sweet comedie by such vnsuted speech by pieces gleaning: nurses teach the other snapp’d the Baron now his Diamonds pours apace; th’ embroider’d King who should forget thee from the tips, and thousand thorns and breaking into the grand old name of friendship like this; tho’ I since thy duties be, beauties so fair, such splendid names, and swift counterchange to springs hereafter, up from his side?

With earnest words, like Men, submit to Fate! Why then my blood, a fuller wave, be quicken in her shone, or interwreathed the violet comes, whose presence o’ lovely graduate, still climbing slipper was one, so full of wolves, where not alone they close, and then how she is a handsome wee thing, this humble broom bowèrs where the silly creature, whom shee lou’d, decline. And whirl’d about empyreal heights of life is that which weep the day, when on the midst of men with never morning arises stormed be! Galahad sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere specimen of a Translation of words.

How did it die? With trembling for thee there yet the fancy flattery! Would gladly seekes to move: so though the clouds they didn’t bother. Fair ship, that thy unkind abuse. With men and prove; unless you wouldst be, if such sweet plight? Every word she spake came, as to a Shrine, and how soon she shifts and change, for now among. He did; not with thee. Whether or not at all. And see the table set and a faltering cries, confusedly— a winning Lips open’d bland, and on the hills—teenagers in my waking song of torments? Cold weight of his usual sleep without breath the bones. This round thy bier.

The wish, that if it can it there: big and bobbing wax fruit, sweating with different seizure— as with her arms, she press; and yonder social truth shall silent. Ah who can fight against her beauty tempting her in all he said, airing a snowy hand again seem’d to her the Turkish new moone mind bewail’d their lot; I did them one by one, we dropt with Pins; or plung’d in Lakes of bitter in thy face, one on the bump I ride in my poor breast. And ancient height, a deeper voice kept sounding, for love, forgetting attach to my hart; now from the grief with symbols play and pining life be fancy-fed.

Like a young Jove with the same; and lassie, life’s star foretold, dying, that I think to see if thence my desire, and, having spoke it once, farewell. Flow thro’ our deeds and make the roof does run, and, while I turn to go yet turning friendship like the small mistake, comes the grief I feel; for words have play’d with joy, the merry merry bells of hollow door, but faith: we can but listen here with you fighting was some thing like glories, in the markets: none knew where she heads of the World a Desert, and fell in silence followed up the long pause a breath, knew that the flames which public manners, purer laws.

The night a craggy shelf, and still renewable fear. Ring out my bed there underground thy narrow house, the cheerful-minded, talk and blear’d Silenus’ sighs. My most full flame shoulder of a man that you should’st link thy life permit. So neighbors had to do with looks at a cadaver. Yet I stack by him. Till on mine eyes below, how dimly character’d with a glitter fires in that sometime they pursue, and milkier every grain of sand that mix’d thy Dust inscribe Belinda yield; now I thought her lone complaint? Beauties so fair? Her soul two souls can make the predictability of time?

Junked up with cattle prods, the heads; unwrapping until only a gift which watchest all I ever wanted was to sit by a fire with singing, laughing, ogling, and delights with her what defect drove her lion roll a sphere lamps blazoned like a civic crown: I met with scorn Two Pages and a stable-wicket creaked where first he walk’d beside my daughter thro’ the Skies. And ne’er a ane to peer her. I told her yestermorn how prettily for his own behoof, with agonies, with Sword-knot Sylvia’s Hands had sown: with summer air is of the foreground, than that weeps I come on my name.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #234 texts #sonnet sequence

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cultivatxr · 3 years ago

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SHIP TAG DUMP !!

I did a little housekeeping to try and neaten things up. I dropped a few that have fizzled out or were no longer accurate, but those of y’all still here have got little shippy tags now. If I’ve forgotten anybody, please forgive my goldfish brain and just holler!

#||♥|| CLOUD || your boldness stands alone among the wreck ||- makobled #||♥|| GENESIS || autumn leaves and apple blossom dreams ||- giftofthegodess #||♥|| NOCTIS || lead me where my trust is without borders ||- inscmnus #||♥|| RAVUS || you shine like silver in the sunlight ||- infideliis #||♥|| TIFA || we’re mindless dreamers smartly teamed ||- healingwords #||♥|| WEISS || you saw the ichor that resides in me ||- endweapon #||♥|| ZACK || i’ll take your hand when thunder roars ||- honorisen

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imaginejamesandsirius · 4 years ago

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Hii, I think Studio Killers's song Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) is great for the guys. It would be pretty awesome to read something like that.

James thought, a lot of the times, that he wanted to ruin his friendship with Sirius. He wanted to ruin it. He wanted to take the beautiful thing they'd built together and tear it apart, piece by piece until there was nothing left.

It was a very destructive way of thinking about it, and when James was in his better moods, he didn't think about it that way. He loved Sirius. He wanted to hug him and spend all his time with him because any time they were apart felt like time wasted. Every time they weren't in the same room, he had a story that he wanted to tell him, and he felt like he got all of the details wrong. He still shared stories with Sirius when Sirius had been there for it, but it was more fun that way. Sharing a story that Sirius hadn't already experienced was like desperately trying to get him back into that little bit of his life that he'd missed.

He loved him in more ways than one. He loved being his best mate. He also loved him like he wanted to pull his pants down and wreck him. And he loved waking up next to him on the odd occasion that they still shared a bed. He wanted to be able to kiss him after that happened, but he never could. It sodding sucked.

So when the time came that he felt completely hopeless in his pining, he wanted to ruin their friendship. He wanted it eviscerated. Not because he thought that Sirius would suddenly jump his bones or summat, but he knew that Sirius thought he was fit. He'd said so himself. If they'd never been friends, they might've hooked up at one of the bars they frequented. Hell, if James was enough of a bastard about something and actually did ruin their friendship, angry sex wasn't off the table.

It wasn't what he wanted. He knew that. Mostly, it was what he thought about when he was lying in bed, feeling lonely and pathetic.

And sometimes he would watch Sirius put on lipstick and he couldn't decide if he wanted to snog him so much that it was smeared all over his face, or if he wanted to steal it.

This latest time, he stole it. It was bright red, and it shone in the light. When Sirius pursed his lips to take a drag from a cigarette, James couldn't think. If he could think of anything at all, it was what he wanted to do to those lips-- or what he wanted those lips to do to him.

He palmed the lipstick tube, then brought it to his room. He took the cap off and twisted it up. There were distinct lines across it in the shape of Sirius, where he'd slid it across his lips.

James had watched him put it on dozens of times; he knew exactly how it looked when he put it on. Sirius flattened his lips wide across his teeth, then swiped from left to right across the bottom, then shifted to the top lip and did right to left. Then he would reverse the way he did it, starting at the top and swiping to the right, then going across the bottom to make sure he covered all of it. He was practically an expert on doing his makeup after so many times. He would rub his lips together then make a little kiss to the mirror with exaggerated pushed out lips. It was to check that he hadn't missed any spots; James knew, because then Sirius would bare his teeth to see that they were still clean. The problem was, if James was around when he got to the 'mwah' part of his routine, Sirius would wink at him. Sometimes he'd run his tongue over his teeth teasingly, like he wanted to get a taste of James and wasn't checking for the chemical taste of the makeup.

All the same, knowing every inch of his routine and the variations to it, James couldn't help but imagine Sirius doing it. He wasn't replaying a memory with it; he was creating something new. A scenario where Sirius put the lipstick on just so James could watch. The idea was mesmerizing in a way that it shouldn't have been. He'd seen Sirius put on his makeup-- and specifically lipstick-- enough times that it shouldn't be something he fantasized about. But he looked at the little lines at the end of the lipstick, and all he could think about was Sirius's mouth.

His tongue darted out, pressing against the tip of it for an instant. The taste was bitter and unpleasant, but it sent a thrill through him; this is what Sirius would taste like if he kissed him.

A hot feeling of shame crept over him, and he rolled the tube back down and put the cap on. He shouldn't have taken this. It was Sirius's, and if he found out about this, he wouldn't appreciate James stealing his things. He got to his feet and walked over to the washroom, tossing the lipstick on the counter so it landed among all the other products Sirius left lying around.

As he walked back to his room, the shame faded. He'd felt it so intensely in the moment, but it evaporated once he got a little distance. He knew that he'd regret it in the morning, but he turned on his heel and went back to the loo. He reached for the lipstick and opened it again. He didn't touch anything else.

He glanced in the mirror, as if he was expecting for Sirius to appear, leaning against the doorframe and asking what he was doing. Expectedly, it was only his own reflection that he saw. He bit his lip, then rolled the tube up. "This is so stupid," he muttered, but he still pursed his lips and started putting the lipstick on.

When he finished, he could better appreciate the ease Sirius did it with. It's not like it was hard, but he could see that he'd buggered it up a bit. If Sirius saw him with it on, he wouldn't care. It wouldn't mean anything to him. It was more upsetting than thinking that he'd be mad at James for wearing it. It wouldn't mean a thing to Sirius. It might be funny to him, since James had never shown any interest in wearing makeup before, and he'd probably wonder why he'd done it on his own instead of asking for Sirius to help him with it-- something he'd offered a few years ago, when he'd bought it all.

He spent the next fifteen minutes rubbing his lips raw, trying to get rid of all traces of red.

That night, he dreamed of Sirius on his motorcycle. In the weird way that dreams worked, it faded seamlessly from Sirius on the bike and James watching, to Sirius kissing him like there was no tomorrow. James woke up hard and aching, and a glance at the time told him that if he wanted to be any good in the morning, he should jerk off.

They were at one of the clubs, hanging out. Sirius was dressed up, like he always was. Bright red lipstick and dark eyeshadow. He had a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, but he said that he didn't like to do the full face of makeup because it felt like it was caked on. His hair was pulled back, and he had his leather jacket thrown on because they'd taken the bike here instead of apparating and walking the difference.

James leaned over and put his mouth near Sirius's ear so he could hear him over the loud roar of music. "You want to dance?"

Sirius looked at him, surprised. "You want to dance?"

He nodded. For a minute, he thought that Sirius would say no. There was a long enough pause between asking and Sirius answering that he got worried.

Then, like the sun shining when the clouds parted, Sirius smiled. He grabbed James's hand and pulled him towards the dancefloor.

At first, it was perfectly innocent. They were mates, and they'd danced together plenty of times. Then James shifted so his hand was too low on Sirius's back to be anything other than sexual, and Sirius didn't move away. He moved into it.

They both knew what was happening here, but neither of them said a word about it. They were pretending that it wasn't happening. Or at least, they were pretending up until Sirius pulled him out of the press of bodies and kissed him. The lipstick on his lips tasted better than it had when it was still in the tube. He couldn't get enough of it. He bit down on Sirius's lip, and he was breathless with the way Sirius responded to it, pressing into him helplessly.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," Sirius said. It wasn't quiet and under his breath the way that James had always imagined it happening. They were in a club, and it was loud. Sirius had to speak up in order for James to hear him.

"Me too," James replied.

"You want to go home?"

James nodded, and they practically ran from the club to climb onto the bike and race away. It was loud and messy, and that was them all over. He hadn’t had to ruin their friendship to get here; he hadn’t ruined anything at all.

#prongsfoot #marauders #fanfic #james potter #sirius black #filled #no voldemort au #getting together #post hogwarts #siriuslystarbucks

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sciatu · 4 years ago

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PRIMO GIORNO DI MARE - Mondello, San Lorenzo, Eraclea, Portopalo, Gelsomineto, Randello,

Prima giornata di mare sotto un sole che non è caldo e un acqua ancora fredda, su una sabbia ancora umida. Ma non mi spaventa il vento e non mi annoia la solitudine. Sento, tra gli avanzi invernali lasciati sulla spiaggia dal mare, l’eco dei miei ricordi fatti di paure e strade vuote, ma stanco di prigioni ed abbandoni, abbraccio questo giorno di sole e su una tovaglia colorata, ascolto il mare parlarmi. Lui non si fa pregare e racconta di donne vogliose dal cuore di madre, di orizzonti dai mille colori che nessuno raggiunge, di città e paesi dove l’uomo impazzisce per cercare quella pace che lui mi dona. Loquace come un vecchio ubriaco, il mare racconta di nebbie e di scogli, di labbra allungate come ali di gabbiani e di pelle salata su cui navigare, , si perde a descrivere occhi grandi come la via lattea, dove l’amore e la vita brillano nel buio più oscuro. Lo ascolto parlarmi di palme curve su baie verdi e fiori che coprono promontori rocciosi, mi giura che ha visto monti vomitare fuoco e nubi bianchissime parlargli di naufragi e relitti perdersi nelle prime pagine del già detto. Lo ascolto in silenzio e respiro il sale nell’aria, oggi è un giorno speciale, il primo in cui un sogno da un frutto. Ed onde su onde il tempo si perde, nel freddo del tramonto, lentamente si spegne.

First day at sea under a sun that is not hot and the water is still cold, on a sand that is still damp. But the wind doesn't scare me and loneliness doesn't bore me. I hear, among the winter leftovers left on the beach by the sea, the echo of my memories made of fears and empty streets, but tired of prisons and abandonments, I embrace this sunny day and on a colored tablecloth, I listen to the sea talking to me. He does not let himself be prayed to and tells of eager women with a mother's heart, of horizons of a thousand colors that no one reaches, of cities and towns where man goes crazy looking for the peace he gives me. Talkative like a drunk old man, the sea tells of mists and rocks, of lips stretched like seagulls' wings and salty skin on which to navigate, it gets lost in describing eyes as big as the Milky Way, where love and life shine in the darkest darkness. I listen to him talk to me about palm trees bent over green bays and flowers that cover rocky promontories, he swears that he has seen mountains spewing fire and white clouds talking to him about shipwrecks and wrecks getting lost in the first pages of what has already been said. I listen to him in silence and breathe the salt in the air, today is a special day, the first in which a dream gives a fruit. And waves upon waves, time is lost, in the cold of the sunset, it slowly fades away.

#Sicilia #Sicily

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bookersebastien · 4 years ago

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the little mermaid!au with quynh as ariel and andy as her princess (if you imagined the other way around it's cool too, i just think i need to send an ask to make you write). ily don't hate me 🥰

(asjkdsa i could never hate you, but i love how you send this to make me write it, a loving push if you will. but yes andy is the princess quynh saves for this ficlet, enjoy my love 💕)

the ocean cannot have you

She remembered the nights she used to come to the surface as a child, giggling with her sisters and making up stories about the constellations, telling strange tales about the humans that roamed the seas in their ships. It was all jokes then, about how they so desperately wished to travel the ocean yet with their legs it was impossible; Quynh felt a kinship with them, though she instead wished for legs of her own to explore the lands she’s only heard rumors about.

Tonight she made her way to the surface again, her insatiable curiosity as a child had only grown and she made time to observe humans any chance she could, even if that meant skipping out on a few hours sleep. The water was cool and dark around her, comforting yet sometimes it felt as if the currents were pulling her back, ghosts of drowned sailors trying desperately to keep her in the depths, but the fresh air once she broke the surface was well worth any sleep she might be missing.

The stars were bright tonight, not a cloud in sight, a smattering of diamonds scattered across a sky as dark as the sea itself; a shining, yet distorted, reflection, a world she knew and the one she wanted to get to know.

It was a rare sight to see ships, she’d spent many nights, and what little daytime hours she could sneak away, waiting and watching the horizon for even the slightest peek at passing boats, the sight of their sails rippling in the wind always tugging at her sense of adventure, begging to be set free upon the world, face tilted up at the sun and feet on the ground.

So tonight she counted herself lucky when a grand ship floated into view, the deck lit up with the soft glow of lanterns, the sound of voices and music carrying across the calm waters, the high tempoed beat accompanied by shouting and the rousing stomping of feet. She gazed up in wonder as it grew closer, eyes transfixed by the way the humans moved along the deck with ease, feet allowing them to hop and twist along to the music, she could see the instruments being played, things with strings whose sounds were earthy and bright, resonating deeply in the crisp air.

Cautiously she slipped closer, every warning about humans gone from her mind as she moved, utterly bewitched by the sight, the sailors faces plastered with wide grins and red cheeks as drinks were passed around, everyone taking large swigs from the bottles, not a glass in sight. Her eyes darted over to the corner of the ship, where a strange pile of objects lay and just as she wanted to move closer, a sailor came running over and picked up the bundle in his arms, words too slurred to make out from where she clung to the ship.

Propping them up along the bow, she had only a second to peruse through some theories before a booming sound shattered the joyful noise of the party. She dove under the water, eyes wide and fingers clutching at the wood of the ship so hard she felt it scrape at her fingertips, her breath coming in short gasps until she glanced up, seeing the sky lit up in dozens of different colors spraying across the sky, no longer dark but now bright and vibrant. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the giggle that rose from her throat, watching on with glee as the colors reflected back onto the water, blending together with the soft movement of the waves.

She peered back at the sailors, finding her excitement nearly matched as they cheered, holding up their drinks, that then sloshed onto the deck, but none of them seemed to care. It was a moment before she realized it wasn’t the display of colors they were cheering, but instead a person who emerged from amidst the group, joining in on the revelry and Quynh suddenly felt as if the earth had stopped moving.

The sight of the women before her caused her heart to flutter in her chest, a noiseless gasp escaping her lips. She was magnificent. She moved amongst the sailors with such an easy familiarity, dressed in slim black pants and a white shirt, that she could almost be mistaken for one of them, but it was her posture that gave her away. Quynh recognized the straight line of her shoulders and the slightest raise of her chin, she wore no clothing that revealed it, but Quynh knew she had to be royalty. And looking like that, she’d be hard pressed to find someone who disagreed.

Her movements commanded every bit of Quynh’s attention, soft yet purposeful strides that took her across the deck, swiping a bottle from the hand of a sailor who was swaying on his feet and without missing a beat, tilting her head back and belting along to the next song the musicians started up.

However, it was her eyes that had Quynh frozen in awe, lips parting slightly as she stared at their brilliant blue, putting any blue sky to shame the way they sparkled in the warm light. They held so much life, it was almost as if the entire sea itself was condensed into them, like the depths of the ocean, beckoning her into them, and Quynh had no desire to fight it.

She watched as she ran to bow, face painted with unreserved happiness, laughing into the wind with arms spread wide. Her reverie cut short as an older man rushed over to her, careful to pull her back from the edge with a disapproving glance, whispering something that made her pull a face at him before laughing and moving to grab hold of the ropes tied to the edge of the ship. Right next to where Quynh was hiding.

“Princess.” He sighed when she didn’t respond. “Andromache,” the man pleaded, “please be more careful.”

“Nothing is going to happen Charles, I just like the feeling of the ocean breeze.” She lifted her head then again, eyes closing while she took a deep breath and exhaled with a wild smile on her lips.

“Your father will not be happy that you didn’t take a liking to the prince.” His voice was more firm, but he made no move to grab her from the railing.

“Love cannot be forced.”

“Well it’s not always love that makes a marriage, you know.”

She looked back at him now, an unreadable expression in her eyes, before casting her glance back out to the sea; it was like she could see the very edge of the earth from where she was perched. “For me it is.”

Before he could say anymore, a flash of lightning shot across the sky followed by an angry burst of thunder that shook the entire sky. The ship trembling under Quynh’s fingers. It was barely a second before the full force of the sudden storm manifested itself on top of them, churning the dark waters, swirling dangerously and crashing against the ship with loud thuds.

Rippling in the wind, the sails flickered and snapped against the air, the crew scrambling to take them down, a sudden burst of sobriety overcoming them at the impending danger. She could do little but watch as the rain burst forth from the heavens, dark clouds releasing a torrent upon them, so heavy she could barely see in front of her. Everyone packed down supplies and took their spots across the ship, looking every bit like hardened sailors, faces moments ago laughing and singing now held determined stares and clenched jaws..

Andromache herself moved to the wheel, face hardened with a fierce determination as she gripped it tight and held it as steady as she could, her shirt soaked through and dark hair matted against her pale skin, arms straining with the effort to keep the ship upright. She stood tall against the wind, the look in her eyes could almost command the storm had she so desired, but in the end she was no match as a huge swell cascaded over the deck, dragging them off the ship with deadly swiftness, the boat groaning as it slowly tipped over into the water. Their screams cut off by the sounds of their bodies hitting the surface.

Quynh was thrown off the ship as it fell, hands scrabbling uselessly against the wood before she found herself underwater, watching as pieces from the ship hit the water around her; jagged pieces of wood and rope tangled together. Everything moved in slow motion for a moment, the debris sinking slowly into the ocean depths while she saw the crew members drag themselves to the surface, clinging to the pieces that managed to stay afloat, some scrambling into a small lifeboat a little ways away from her.

The princess was nowhere to be seen among those resurfacing, and the pained expressions on the sailors faces as their eyes scanned the water in the darkness confirmed her fear. She was still under.

Plunging under once again, she swam closer to where the ship was rapidly taking on water, suddenly reminded of an old ship wreck she’d explored years before. Everything had been taken over by kelps and corals, it was no longer a ship, it didn’t hold the same sense of anguish that swimming through this wreckage did; the way darkness curled around it, it felt more like a graveyard than a ship.

The lightning was still visible from this far down, it reflected off the occasional bottle or scrap of metal each time it struck, flashing in the peripherals of her vision. Her stomach twisted as she pushed away debris after debris, movements becoming frantic, her body protesting as she pushed herself faster and harder through the wreckage, desperation growing until she finally saw it.

Bright white, the sail was hard to miss, rippling and dancing along the currents, it would almost be beautiful if it wasn’t the thing dragging the princess to her death. Her face was deathly pale, eyes closed while the fabric pulled at her body like the hands of a vengeful ghost, determined for others to share the same fate at the bottom of the ocean.

Urging herself further, she carefully unwraps the canvas from her limbs, heart skipping a beat as her fingers brush over the skin of her neck, smooth and ice cold to the touch. Taking a deep breath, she ignores how her body feels against her as she winds her arms around her waist, hand clutched to the back of her head, threading faintly through the black strands, speeding towards the pale light that followed the now retreating storm.

Quynh wanted so badly to stop, to tell the princess not to worry, that she would be okay, but with the way she hung nearly lifeless in her arms she knew she had to keep going, praying silently to every god she could think of, hoping the ocean could show its mercy this time.

Time passed in a blur and soon a beach came into view, the warm colors of the sand a welcome break in the blue gloom that had settled in the sky, and she nearly cried in relief at the sight, gritting her teeth and pushing herself faster, ignoring how the princess’s clothes were weighed down by the water, instead just clutching her tighter and hoping she was fast enough.

The sand was smooth under her fingers as they gently released the princess to the ground, rolling her onto her back. She tucked her tail underneath her, hands hovering in the air over her face, unsure what to do now that they’d reached land, chest tightening as she watched for any signs of life, soon finding herself admiring the sharp angle of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips, the color slowly coming back with the return of the sun, the clouds now chasing the horizon line, the storm nothing but a distant haze in the sky.

Everything was quiet, save for the sound of waves gently lapping against the shore and the sound of Quynh’s blood pumping in her ears, so loud she couldn’t even be sure she was hearing the waves at all.

A startled shout left her lips when she saw the faintest rise of her chest, pressing her ear quickly against her and letting out a loud breath. Her heartbeat was there, soft and slow, fighting it’s way back and Quynh felt like she could finally breathe, letting her own heartbeat slow in time with the princesses. And for the first time she finally realized how long it had been since she’d left her home, her family was probably worried, the morning sky a pale blue, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave, not as she watched the princess, her hand trailing slowly along her cheek, admiring the slight movement of her eyelashes at her touch.

She leaned in closer, her words barely there as the breeze seemed to steal them from her lips.

“Andromache,” she tested the taste of her name on her lips, reveling in the way it felt on her tongue, like honey and home, powerful like the sea but warm like the sand beneath her; it was almost like it belonged in her mouth, fated to speak it in this life or the next.

And just like that, her eyelids fluttered open, a brilliant flash of blue before she blinked the salt from her eyes, chest heaving as she took her first, full deep breaths. Quynh wanted so badly to rush closer, let her know the extent of her joy that she was okay, but quickly remembered herself and instead used the moment to slip back into the water, already missing the feeling of the warm breeze on her skin, the cold of the ocean not as refreshing as it once was. Now it stung, a reminder of what she couldn’t have.

She watched from a good distance away as a group of sailors, many of them she recognized as members of the sinking ship, rushed down the beach, screaming and shouting as they enveloped the princess in blankets, pulling her carefully to her feet.

Just as she was propped up, the princess’s gaze once again found the horizon and Quynh dared to dream it was her she was looking for, and as she swam back into the depths she couldn’t help but wish it was her eyes she was lost in instead.

#marwanckenzari #the old guard #tog fic #andromaquynh #andromache the scythian #quynh #usrbkrw #bea tag #userhegel #usertriz #swquser #demonicneonfishy #daniwouldnever #cant look at this anymore so here it is bea!#(lets pretend it didnt take me weeks to get around to it)#mistakes are bound to be in this still but ive read it too many times to notice

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catracorner962 · 4 years ago

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Beautiful Children Ch 1

It's been five years since Horde Prime was defeated. Two years since Catra and Adora got married. Magic has been brought to Etheria, but all is not well. On a mission to destroy the last of The Brotherhood of Prime Catra finds an orphan magicat among the ruin. Now she and Adora must decide if they are ready for another adventure all together. Adora is ecstatic, Catra...less so. Through their decision, both must revisit childhood memories, some more pleasant than others.

*Warning: Violence, childbirth, themes of childhood abuse and trauma.*

She came into the world a flaming comment, blazing with shining light in an otherwise darkened world. A world becoming undone.

“Good! Good mistress! Just a little longer, I can see her head. Push now! Push!” The room shook violently, bed shaking, debris falling from the ceiling. The woman heaved for breath, pushing, her face pinched with pain.

“Aaaahhh can’t! W...e...we have to….g...go!”

She pushed harder, straining. Fists gripping at blue sheets.

“Almost there darling, you just have to…watch out!” The man all but threw himself across his partner, grunting as debris hit his back.

“Honey?!”

“I...I’m fine!” He smiled grimly, touching, squeezing her arm, “just keep pushing. They’ll be here soon. So soon. You’re doing great!” The woman starred at him, eyes filled with dread, another seismic shake from the earth beneath them sent the room into a spinning tumble. Windows clattered with the terrifying wind, outside muffled screams were lost to the tempest.

“I...I c...can’t!”

“You can mistress, just one more push...that’s it!” The midwife assured her, gripping the bed posts for balance. Blood and viscera leaked from the woman, but so too did a smattering of golden hair.

“Go love, that’s it! That’s…” A crack, metal from the roof above them bent and broke, falling around the small bedchamber. He screamed; shards of splitting iron cascading down. He bent close to his partner, shielding her head.

“What’s happening?! We...we’re not going to make it! I c...can...aaahh!” The woman’s body buckled, arching with a final desperate push., whole form tensed.

“Waaah! Hwaaah, hwaah!”

The man turned, squinting over his shoulder towards the sound, heart hammering. His vision tumbled, another series of tremors. Glass shattered, bursting out into the storm around them. The wicked gusts tugging at the sheets of the bed.

“I...is it….?”

“S...she’s alright!” The nursemaid clutched the baby close to her chest, it’s little cries deaf to the destruction around it. “She’s healthy...a..and w...well!”

The laboring woman’s face collapsed with relief. Sighing and smiling, despite it all.

“You did it! You did it my love she’s here! Did you hear that?! We have a daughter! We have,” he kissed her, lips slicked with tears and sweat and all. Even as reality fell down among them. Trees outside screeched, bark splitting and tearing. Rocks and boulders spun through the air.

“She...sh...aaaaarggg!”

The room trembled once more, bed rocking.

“Th...there’s another!” The nurse maid cried, falling forward against the exhausted woman, threatening to collapse on top of her. She caught herself with one arm, the swaddled baby held fast in the other.

“A...Another?” The man breathed, face tightening. His eyes scanned the destruction surrounding them. The walls shook, tearing apart.

“I….c...can’t!” The woman sobbed, her blonde hair falling from it’s ponytail. He swiped a lock of hair backward.

“I..it’s okay, it’ll be alright, we...we can,” the ground undulated, pitching the bed to the left violently. The pair, their nursemaid and the infant screaming as they fell to the floor.

A red light piercing through the dark clouds. Sounds of cannon fire.

The blonde woman rolled, groaning, hauling herself upward to squat among the wreck of their home, the walls now crumbling.

“Here, take her,” the nursemaid thrust the tiny babe to her father. He took her, into his shaking, bloody arms. Her little from squirming, gummy mouth still emoting pitiful cries.

“There, there, it’s alright,” he soothed, kissing her little head. The red light blasted around them, people screaming, crying, begging for mercy. The little baby only gurgled, oblivious to the destruction around it.

“Love, you alright?”

He turned towards his partner, who screamed, enough to rival the gales.

“Th...that’s it!” The nursemaid crouched before her, hands outstretched ready to catch the second babe.

With a final cry, the woman broke down in a sob with the second series of little wails.

“A boy! Also h...healthy.”

The man tried to step forward, towards the two women. He coughed, smoke filling the wreck of the room, of their home. He pulled shaking arms around them, another cracking beam fell through, crashing around them. Both babes wailed.

“Sh….sh...it’s alright. You did it,” he cried, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the little ones.

“Adam,” his partner sighed beside him, holding the boy in her arms. She kissed his forehead, determined to make a moment of love and peace amid destruction.

“And the girl?” The father asked.

“What about…”

“Aaaahhh!”

The nursemaid screamed, then crumpled to the ground, limp. A bot stormed through the harrowing storm. It’s cold lights blinking, lazer revving up.

“What have we here?”

The man and woman starred in horror, at their nursemaid’s body holding the infants tight against them. The wind tugged at the figures cape. His pale form illuminated by fire, red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“H….Horde Prime…” the man whispered, pulling his arms tighter around both his partner and newborn. The pale figure only smiled, revealing pointed fangs.

“No, fool. I am not Horde Prime. You are not worthy to behold him. I am but his brother.” He stepped forward, metal claws poised.

“You have something I desire. Now give it here.”

“No!” The woman screamed, she seized a shard of plated metal and rose to her feet shaking. Adam tucked tight against her.

“Love! No!”

She strode forward, fast as her condition would allow. Determined, she raised the shard to strike at the Hordesman’s neck. Claws warped tightly around her wrist, snapping it.

“Aaah! N...no!” He grinned cruelly, eyes flicking to the baby in her arms.

“Let them go!” The father shouted, trembling.

“Fools. You are as arrogant as all your kind. First Ones, ha! You will be nothing but a shadow. A memory. Your people are arrogant, selfish, wretches. A plague upon the galaxies.”

The Hordesman smirked, the bot beside him turned towards the woman and her child.

“No! Don’t!”

BAM!

The woman screamed, laser fire blasting through her chest in one fell blow. She too collapsed to the shattered earth. Body charred, and smoking, Tiny Adam wailing in her arms.

“N...no….no!” The father whimpered, his legs frozen. In his arms the tiny girl squalled, Little arms reaching out from her thin blanket The Hordesman stalked forward, bending down to the dead woman. He reached for the bundle in her arms, lifting it and huffed.

“D...don’t hurt h….him...p….please!”

“He’s not the one I want.”

The villain stalked forward, the bot turning towards the father. It’s laser cannon glowed ready for another blast. He gulped, mouth dry. Sweat beading on his temples. The small life in his arms cried. Red eyes bore into him.

“Hand it over,” the Hordesman reached for the girl in his arms.

“No!” He turned away, twisting to keep his child as far as he could from the reach of the Horde. The bot’s laser shot a beam, just past his head. He screamed, folding to the ground over the child at the Hordesman’s feet. The last of the bedroom wall now blasted to a smoldering pile. All around them the wind whipped, burnt flesh and charring metal filled his lungs, eyes streaming with tears sorrow and discomfort in equal measure.

“I will not ask again,” the imposing Hordesman hissed. “Give it to me.”

“Not a chance!” He snarled, hunkering down over the baby.

“Very well, you have chosen your fate.”

The father let out a small whimper, the Hordesman’s metal claws clamping around his neck. He clutched the baby closer still. Even as his feet levitated off the ground, kicking feebly. The baby continued to wail, Her blue eyes creased with confusion and fright. Too little, she was too little to know such emotions. To comprehend such chaos. She should not have to, not at only a few moments old. Already experiencing the horror of the world.

“Give it to me,” the Hordesman commanded. The father’s arms held her tight even as the creature grabbed for the infant, wrenching her away with an impossible strength.

“A...Adora! No! P...p...please!”

The Hordesman tucked the screaming baby into the crook of his other arm.

“Adora,” he mused. The baby’s blue grey eyes squinted, little tears ebbing at the edges of her eyes. He turned back to the father, his grip tightening.

“This child will be instrumental to Horde Prime’s victory. She will be an asset to our conquest. You may take comfort in that, before you die.”

Adora’s father clawed at the Hordesman’s arm, mouth sucking for air, his eyes wild and wide. Lipless, the Hordesman smiled, fingers tightening against the pulsing viens, the soft flesh. His smile only grew, the man’s windpipe crushed with ease. His body flailed and twitched, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

He smirked, turning from the wreckage. The baby had quieted, large eyes only blinking and confused.

“Adora,” he whispered, one claw caressing her little cheek.

“You will be of great use to us.”

The Hordesman, known as Hordak tucked the child against him, through the swirling dark portal. Leaving the wreckage of Eternia lost to the anals of history.

---

“Adora! Look out!”

Glimmer shouted, flinging one hand out to send a beam of magic forward, it flew past Adora’s shoulder, directly behind her. She turned, only to see one of Prime’s clones fall to the ground.

“Thanks your magest...ugh!” She swung out with the sword, catching yet another clone with the broadside of the blade, shoving him backward and wrestling him to the ground. He swung out lamely, fists beating against her armor. She bit back a grin, squaring him straight in the face.

“Shera, on your right!” Bow shouted, an arrow swinging by, hitting another clone in the shoulder.

“Got it!” Adora, as Shera ran forward ducking another three other clones. She spun, dashing and slashed them across the back of the neck. Their chips sparking with electric shocks. They groaned, crashing to the ground.

“BOOM!”

She turned, heart sinking at another explosion, this one in the village center. Debris shot through the air, crashing down into the narrow streets.

“All the people...they...they made it out right?!”

“We got everyone we could!” Netossa answered, shortly. She swung another volley of nets capturing the clone closest to Spinnerella.

That’s not reassuring...where’s…?

“Aaaaarrrggghh!” Adora turned towards the sound on instinct but smiled, she knew that sound.

Catra, but not her cry of pain or distress. It was a giddy cry of satisfaction. She took another swipe at an oncoming clone, hitting him with the butt of her sword before flinging him over her back, smashing him to the ground and looking up at where Catra leapt from a nearby tree branch. She all but glided through the air, leaping at two clones, her claws tearing through their makeshift robes with ease. She vaulted off them as they feel, landing, as always, on her feet.

“What is it princess? See something you like?” the end of her tail flicked back and forth in a tease.

“I….”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The sky over Tellinville flashed with orange red light, buildings crumbled, the ground shook. Catra’s ears flicked back in irritation.

“There really better not be any left,” Adora whispered, heart clenching. The heat of the fires stinging her face.

“How many more of them are there?!” Spinnerella took out four more clones with a strong gust.

“According to Perfuma and Frosta not many!” Netossa kicked at a clone who had pinned her to the ground. A net clamped over it, throwing it aside.

“You alright?” Bow gasped, Netossa nodded, gaining her footing and rushed forward once more.

“We will be victorious brothers! In the name of Horde Prime we will….”

“Shut it!” Catra snarled, jumping onto it’s back and dragging her claws across it’s thin throat. Green blood spurted from it’s neck before it coughed and fell forward, still.

Adora fought the blush rising in her cheeks.

“Will,” Glimmer shot another beam of magic towards an oncoming clone, “you,” she ducked, kicking out nailing another in it’s hip, “two” it recovered but not before she darted forward, jabbing at a pressure point in its neck, “get a,” it fell incapacitated and Glimmer saw her opening, swinging her staff to take it out with a bash to the head, “room!” She finished, glaring at the pair of them.

“Sorry Glimmer!” Adora shouted, punching yet another clone in the stomach. She cut through it easily like paper. All that training paid off.

“Awe what’s the matter Sparkles, jealous?” Catra cocked a hip out in her stance. “Argh!” She turned, whip out instantly, cracking over the face of a clone.

“I...I think that’s the last of them!” Bow panted, slinging his bow to his back. He spared a moment to kiss Glimmer on the cheek as she wiped a sweaty hand across her brow. Adora sheathed her sword.

“The Brotherhood of Prime really managed to occupy this town for awhile huh?” Netossa looked towards the decimated village.

I failed….no...we failed...no... Adora stopped herself. Even as Shera, the thoughts swarmed through her mind. The tempestuous anxiety filling her gut. Remember Perfuma’s lessons. You aren’t a failure. It’s not your fault. We only just found out about the Brotherhood of Prime.

A warm hand on her arm coaxed Adora from her thoughts. Catra offered her a tiny smile, fingers squeezing. Her eyes met Adora’s briefly as Glimmer went over further strategy. It was a small glance, seemingly nothing really. But Adora recognized it well. After all, she and Catra had spoken with silent looks for most of their lives. A glance here and here in training exercises. A mischievous squint during drills. A sympathetic eye after one of them emerged from Shadow Weaver’s chambers. It was a secret language they knew well.

Are you alright?

Yeah.

“Sound good?” Glimmer finished. Bow nodded, taking off with Spinnerella, “Oh will you two pay attention for five damn minutes?!” The queen of Brightmoon all but screeched.

“What? Sorry!” Adora wrung her hands, unsure what to do with them now that they weren’t holding a weapon.

“We’re scouting Tellinville for survivors. Think you the Horde Scum can keep your hands off each other long enough to do that?”

“Depends,” Catra quipped, wrapping her arms around Adora’s thick bicep, “how many dark corners and little alleys does Tellinville have?” Glimmer only rolled her eyes.

“Fine! We’ll look for survivors! Not that there can be many after Prime’s remaining brother’s destroyed everything.”

“We’ll meet back here. If you find anyone, signal for me.” Adora nodded, making her way towards the village with Catra in tow.

---

Buildings lay in smoldering rubble. Smashed dishes, an overturned bed.

“Do you hear anything? See anyone?”

Catra shook her head, sniffing for any sign of life. Only melted metal, the residue of that viscous green liquid.

Come into the light little sister, yes….yes...let your pain melt away.

No!

He’s not here, you're safe. It’s been five years. You’re alright.

Catra scratched at the back of her neck, stepping over a fallen pillar.

“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Adora walked ahead, eyes endlessly shifting for any sign of life. “I’ll go around the outskirts of the perimeter in case Bow and Spinnerella missed anything. Perfuma and Frosta are covering the town center. If you can cover the south side that’ll help. Netossa and Glimmer have the rest.

“A’right, call if you need anything princess,” Catra answered, trying to hide the lack of enthusiasm.

Adora leaned forward pecking a kiss to her temple. As Shera her lips radiated warmth and magic of their own that sent a thrumming through Catra. She suppressed a purr before Adora gave her a final salute and strode off, through the heaps of wood and stone, green liquid sloshing under her boots.

“Hello? Hellooo? Anyone! Anyone there? Hello? Answer me dammit!” Catra called, her ears flicking this was and that. Ducking through alleys and under a collapsed entry way to what had been a home.

“Helllloooo?”

Catra sniffed,

Smoke...iron...blood...urine...more blood...tears….burning fur...smoldering flesh…

Burning fur…?

She sniffed once more, dropping to all fours,

There’s something here…

Catra picked among the broken shards of glass, tracing the scent from the demolished home. Going brick by brick.

“Ehh, ehh, aah!”

She sniffed again, tail high. Going through the wreck, she dug through the rock. It used to be a ceiling or a wall no doubt, destroyed by one of the bombs that the Brotherhood of Prime set off when they saw the princesses coming.

“Hello? Say something! We’re here to help you!”

“Ehhh, ehh ehh!”

Sounds like a child….

Catra flung through the bricks and dust frantically, white dust clouding and puffing up. She coughed through the hazy cloud, squinting to make out any sign of….

An eye, shut against the white dust that covered half a face. She dug faster, hacking through the plumes of soot. Catra lifted another brick with one hand, bracing the others so they didn’t come tumbling down with the other.

“There...there it’s...it’s okay,” she muttered and stopped. The ear of the little thing flopped, triangular, black and velvet.

What….?

“AAAhh! Ahhh!”

It cried, white specs falling into its mouth. It coughed feebly. Catra reached forward, sliding her hands under its small body. She held her breath, lifting the little thing from its entrapment, gathering it in her arms.

Sh licked her hand, wiping at it’s face.

Two floppy little ears, and the stubbiest of tails curled around it’s bottom. Catra gingerly shook out its hair, white powder sloughing off to reveal thin wisps of blonde hair. She adjusted her grip on the little thing, carefully giving it’s mouth a swipe with her finger to clear any remaining dust.

“Mrrp, grrl,” it squeaked, opening its mouth to cry once more.

Fangs?

It’s whole body shook, it’s belly, still retaining a thin velvet coating of birth hair, huffed in and out in an attempt to take in more air.

Catra starred, heart hammering.

The arms around the infant grew heavy, riddled with goose bumps. Every hair on her body stood on end.

A...magicat kitten….

---

She came into the world the treasure of a dying people. A relic, a hope. But it was not to be.

“I can do this, just...just…” the magicat held out his hand, crouched between the humongous roots of an old one tree.

His husband grabbed his hand tightly. Keeping his worry to himself. The kitten was coming too late, it had been due to arrive moons ago. A birth this far past it’s time could only end one of two ways. A death, or severe complications leading to death not long after.

“You can, you can do this,” even as he said it, he looked around, ears on alert for any sign of movement, any sound of bots or First One’s bugs Either were equally possible in this part of Etheria. Neither the Fright Zone, or the Whispering Woods, or any of the princess’s kingdoms.

“AAAAARRRGGGHHH!!!” he cried, body tensing. “Aaaarrgghhh.”

“That’s it, that’s it,” The other soothed, going around to crouch before his husband. “And...try not to...be so loud? We only just lost the bots. I’d hate to have you running in your condition.”

“Not be so loud?! I’m delivering your child!”

“Right, sorry. You’re doing great.”

Still anxiety ate at him. Bots could linger anywhere, Horde soldiers, it was a miracle they survived this long, with one of them pregnant no less.

“Okay, okay almost there….almost….” a rush of liquid, a little mewling cry. The magicat took the tiny thing into his arms, cutting the cord with one claw.

“Is….is it…”

“A girl,” he whispered, smoothing over her sticky mat of dark hair. She cried until he put her to his husbands chest. Tears and quick breaths of relief all around.

“She’s so small…” the other magicat reached up, cradling the kitten to his breast with one hand splaying across her entire back. Her stub of a tail barely switched. Her little eyes remained shut, but her ears were perfect velvet and her nose sniffed.

“She’s perfect.”

Silence, and for one brief moment the three of them were safe. Safe and together, a sanctuary between the trees. The magicat stroked her face lovelingly.

“I’m sorry love, I’m so sorry...I wish I could feed you properly,” his heart cracked, seeing her little mouth trying to suckle. Nothing would come. He was too thin, too starving. Barely well enough to carry her himself.

“Don’t feel bad my darling,” his husband kissed the little kitten between her velvet black ears. “It’s not your fault.”

“We...we can’t keep her,” he choked out, wiping his tears with a free hand. His husband nodded.

“They’ll catch us eventually. Even if she doesn’t starve.”

They held their child close, clutching her close against the breeze of the wood.

“What do we do?” He looked up at his husband, holding their child tight. She mewled for any food, her tiny body fragile.

“I have an idea, but...you won’t like it. I don’t like it either but it’s better… better than anything we can give her.”

It took four moons to get to the outskirts of the Fright Zone. Lightening cracked over the dark sky, they huddled close, keeping the kitten under a bundle of clothing scraps.

“...We...we can’t leave her,” the magicat pleaded, looking down at the flimsy box he held in his shaking hands.

“If she stays with us...she’ll die. We’ve been over this my darling we...we can’t. Better to give her a future, any future then sentence her to a slow death. That chance, a chance for a life is the only thing we can give her now.”

He looked down at the kitten in his arms, her yellow and blue eyes blinked up at them, curious. Her tiny claws poked through the folds of the clothing.

“I...I’m so sorry my love,” her father whispered through tears, pressing his nose to the crown of her head. Breathing her in, her scent, still fresh and clean. The kitten only whimpered, her tiny stomach gurgling. Her father kissed her between the brows for one desperate longing moment. She reached out, little hands padding against his damp cheeks.

“Come here,” he handed the little kitten off to her father who held her to his chest, kissing her, running his hands through her matted hair and caressing the tiny velvet ears.

“We love you kitten, so, so much,” shaking, he placed her down in the box, making sure to double check her blankets.

He placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, squeezing it.

“I...i just want to hold her...just a little longer…” he reached down, scooping her up once more against his frail frame. The other magicat spoke into the small recording device they had scavenged.

“Please...please take care of her,” he begged. “Tell her we love her. When she’s old enough, show her this, so she knows how much we cherished her.”

He reached forward,

“It’s time my darling.”

“No,” the other magicat cried, shielding the kitten from the torrent of rain and flash of lightning.

“No….no...no...no...stars please no!” The little kitten, oblivious, drifted in and out of sleep in her father’s arms. One fist wrapped around her tail. Even through her birth fur, her ribs stuck outward.

He relented only when his husband pried her from his grasp gently, leaning down to put her in the box once more.

“She’ll have a bed, and food, and somewhere to live.”

“Is living with the Horde much of a life?”

“Darling….”

“I know,” he cried, ‘I know...I just….” he looked down at the sleeping kitten. “We never got to name her.”

His husband nodded, reaching down and giving the kitten a final kiss on the nose. He looked at her with adoration and misery. He could only ndd, despondent. They made the mistake of naming their first kitten. One that died shortly after being born. A heartbreak almost as bad as this one.

“We love you kitten, we love you with all our hearts.”

---

“Shera! Shera you saved us!”

Adora let out a nervous giggle, giving the woman a pat on the back.

“Well it was a team effort,” she admitted, escorting the woman to join the other survivors. Glimmer and Bow helped the last few stragglers into the spaceship.

Perfuma and Frosta handed out blankets as people got comfortable.

“Is that all of them?” Adora asked, gazing up the ramp of the ship. Glimmer nodded,

“According to Netossa and Spinnerella yes. They’re doing a final sweep just to be sure.”

Adora nodded,

Where’s Catra? She should be back by now?

Adora, calm down. It’s fine she’s probably doing a final check.

“I’ll do one last check,” she turned towards the village again.

“Adora, wait you don’t have to…”

She strode off before Glimmer could finish.

I have to do this. There are seventy five people in that ship who could’ve been killed. We...we weren’t able to get everyone out before the bombs….

Her heart sank, wandering through the quiet streets, looking for any sign of life.

Where is Catra….Catra?

“Adora?”

She turned instantly,

Now that was a cry of concern.

“Catra?! Don’t touch her! I…”

She stopped short as Catra came into view, wide eyed but in one piece, and holding something. She scurried up to Adora, something small in her arms.

“Catra your alright! We got the rest of the survivors on the….”

Adora looked down at the bundle Catra held. It was small, curled on its side into the crook of Catra’s arm.

“What….what is it?” She spluttered, dumbfounded. Catra looked from her to the thing in her arms, its little ears pressed against its head, tail curled against itself.

“It’s...it’s a baby,” Catra spoke as if realizing for the first time. She placed an instinctive protective hand atop its head. “I found a baby.”

Adora blinked throat suddenly dry. She took in the little creature by degrees. It’s tufts of hair, its scrunched face, the way Catra held it to her so tenderly. The way it seemed to sniff her out and curl closer to her. Something swelled in her chest, making her heart flutter.

“Where….where is its parents?”

#my writing #catra #adora #shera #spop #finn #catradora family #catradora kid #catradora parenting #glimmer #bow #shadow weaver #shadow weaver a+ parenting #spop season 5 #she-ra princess of power #SheRa and the Princesses of Power

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mallickshah · 3 years ago

Text

A GATHERING

YEAR 2021 ; MAY 1ST

There was a gathering in a part of the club's faction that not many had ever been to. Behind the tavern that held the name of Yureif, Mallick’s brother, a name that not many knew of either. Mallick’s name had started to make its rounds through the faction though and not just on clubs' lands, but in the entirety of Kadeu. The main reason behind it, at first, had been his new gain of the title of Ace, of course. The manner in which it was obtained, who he had been associated with when it was obtained; the name of The Resistance muddled with the name of the Ace of clubs did not seem to please many, clubs included.

Despite all of that, the new Ace had kept quiet about his whereabouts for two entire weeks. The rumor mill might have enjoyed this absence, this lack of leadership, if it wasn’t for the small things that were also being done while he all but let himself be a simple whisper, or a harsh critic from the mouth of those who wanted this new impostor to reveal his cards. Mallick had learned many things from the man he’d been and the one he now was though, the most important rule he’d himself instilled in his own operations was to move in the shadows.

To many, this title would just be a power trip, something to hold onto while they barked orders and let the rest of the world see how much control they could exerce because of their rank. To many, this title would just be another way to subjugate an already overtaken faction. So Mallick had needed to think about the course of action to take before taking a different path. Because he would certainly not fall into the trap that had led him to fight the last Ace of clubs.

Things needed to be different; many conversations and consulting with his family afterwards had proven this fact correct. It didn’t matter how it was formulated, Mallick had a sense that even his parents had at one time dreamed of an opportunity as such. However, no matter how dire, how urgent it seemed to reveal what he had in his mind, what he knew would be better suited for clubs, without breaking the order of things in which they operated. Or rather, the disorder they thrived in. In order for him to do so, he had to mull, he had to think, to meditate on the matter, to play behind the curtains.

He’d let the rumor mill play its advocate, both for and against him, while Mallick simply let himself use connections he’d never known would find themselves useful for such a thing to tie himself further into this fate. It all brought it down to a statement plastered in clubs' streets, and only in clubs' streets. For one, they were not allowed in other factions, but even if they had been, Mallick would have still excluded all that were not part of this faction.

One sole goal ended up prevailing from the stapling of loose ends and the unifying of alliances needed to be of the same sound mind to better the lives of the people of his faction; their faction. Mallick was not alone in this, he had many other heads he could count, aside from the makeshift council that The Barbarians saw themselves create after the havoc they wrecked on the faction.

They had not been the easiest to reach, or to talk with, or to negotiate with, but Mallick had learned something about himself he’d always feared could rear itself back up. Something that had stayed dormant, and only manifested itself whenever Saiyah could not see him act upon them. Mallick had once been a very domineering young boy, and young man, but by the time he was all but embracing that step in his life, the woman he would never cease to love and adore waltzed in his life and shook the very core of that foundation.

During these two weeks, Mallick had admitted to himself that Saiyah was no longer and would never be again, so it was time for him to reconcile with the man he had been. The one who had been the cause of her death, for the foes that he’d gained along the way not forgetting his old ways. This man could now come at the forefront, and the ire he would instigate would be more than justified. It had once been unfair to try to coerce him out, but it was now the perfect fit for these gloves.

Or for this stand, among the clamoring of the crowd.

The sun was too high for it to be the beginning of May, but maybe this spoke to the urgency of the current situation. Mallick was aware of many things. One, the only reason why so many people were here was because of the allies he’d decided to take with him, his name only would not have been able to draw such a crowd. Two, the crowd was growing restless with the heat, their gaze too focused and their bodies would soon find themselves needing some type of action to relieve themselves of the heat they were enduring. Three, that release when it came to clubs would simply end up in a brawl rather than a quiet disapproving grumblings.

He knew these people, he was one of them. So it made him feel less and less apprehensive as he took his time to exit his brother’s tavern and walk up to the wooden stand. Yureif had taken some pride in his tavern being the place of the gathering, and Devjay had appointed himself as the man one would have to cross first before they could get to him. They were still debating on whether they should label him a right-hand, or a brother in arms. For now, he was simply all but Mallick’s shadow.

Mallick had only ever been a lover of the light, or rather, ever since a certain one slipped in uninvited and brought in even more than he’d ever thought could possibly be found. But he’d picked the black panther as his emblem for a good reason, Mallick had always been a man of the shadows.

It was commanding to see how the moment he stepped into view, the clamoring quieted, and when he rose behind the stand, the crowd took a stance. Mallick had made himself ready for what he knew of these people, his people. If a fight had to break while he was talking, or even before, he’d simply let it unfold and do this at another time.

However, a single line on the posters had advised them to not start a brawl if they wanted to be given anything they wished from the tavern, free of charge. Mallick had shamelessly bribed his way into making sure they behaved, or tried to at the very least. His brother might suffer a few losses for a bit, but it’d quickly come back compensated if this took flight the way Mallick hoped it would.

The heat of the day was now sitting atop his head, his shaved beard was no longer leaving him with a vulnerable feeling. He was long past that sensibility to the sight he was used to showing to his reflection.

Mallick started speaking and hoped to the gods that this would not derail in another civil war.

THE SPEECH (THE ACTIONS & REACTIONS)

I come to you with something we’ve never thought we could have, something none of us probably ever think of now, because we are not used to it being offered; peace. I do not mean peace by giving to others what we have and wishing that they treat us right, or giving up who we are and what we believe in to be the way they wish us to be. I mean peace in being ourselves, peace in giving to the people of this faction something better than the bloodshed they’ve been enduring, generation after generation. We are crumbling! But look at you, you are warriors, fighters, better than soldiers, some of you are the most fearless merchants! We have the power and we have the skills it takes to make us better together. That is where I want you to start, when you think about what can be done for the future.

(The crowd was still attentive, but some were slowly leaving their position, dispersing as Mallick stepped off the stand to walk among them; and as his voice grew louder, some did halt and turn around. Perhaps begrudgingly, perhaps simply to enjoy the spectacle, or who knows, get a pass in to take down this new Ace.)

I come in peace, because I realize I might not be the image of what you would think to be a strong representation of us, but I am not a weak man and no men in clubs are weak. None! WE are what WARRIORS were meant to be and WARRIORS do not fight dishonorably, nor do they kill for the thrill, we kill to feed our families, we FIGHT to show our strength. We can still do that and do it to have BETTER for all of US. Don’t you see it? The other factions do not care about us, they will jibe, they will insult, they will mock us and we let them do it by continuing to act like WE are NOTHING else but the WEAPONS WE CARRY.

(The crowd has not entirely dispersed, some newcomers have found themselves walking forward because of a sudden clamor of a lone man now carrying the hammer of another, Mallick is that lone man. He is all but arm wrapped around the shoulders of the weapon’s owner and somewhere, someone finally does something that shows less disinterest; a scream is heard.)

But first--I wish to say that it almost brought me to a path none wishes to carry. To work in the shadows of a rebellion that might have tainted my reputation for your eyes. But I did it for the union of this faction. Because I was a lost man, and for that, I will never use their name, because they should remain in the shadows, where they belong. WE do not belong in the shadow, we BELONG in a light that has long been shining on others because they casted us their clouds.

When I say WE, I mean all of us. The weak, the poor, the rich, and especially the STRONG.

(It has to come to this; Mallick walking among the crowd and the crowd walking with Mallick. They make rounds, they move with something akin to a trance. Maybe something has been sprayed in the air, maybe it is simply that the heat has finally gotten to them all. The Ace and the people, the ones that are left and the new ones, they might as well just mesh and become one.)

ARE YOU NOT TIRED OF BEING AT THE BOTTOM WHEN YOU ARE THE MIGHTIEST?

(Now the chaos is present; but it is not a chaos of weapons brandished against each other, it is of weapons held up and clinking, the way one would cheer with pints; not the delicate touch of a wine glass. Mallick was yanked somewhere in between; his brother all but wearing a disapproving scowl when all it did was make him laugh heartily. There’s this glee in his eyes that has Devjay letting him go then, there’s something more potent than anything else Mallick has ever felt in his life. It feels alive and like it will consume him, but if it comes to that, then he’ll let it be. The crowd quiets when the silence stretches for longer, without Mallick’s voice, without his words and suddenly as he’s back behind the stand, they all look confusedly for a second. Weapons are held, the tension seems to return. Mallick clears his throat and holds them with a steady gaze. He’s all but one man against a crowd, but there’s an undeniable power and confidence in him that tells them if he has to, he will fight every single one of them if they dared to challenge him. Mallick waits. The silence stretches. Then a grin pulls the corners of his lips.)

Well if you are TIRED, then rest assured that I’ll make sure to remind them they shouldn’t have underestimated you.

(The end might feel anticlimactic for many, but it is also the beginning of one promise being complied with. One promise that put them all right where they are needed, in the Panther’s den. As they gather in the tavern once it is made clear that they can by the owner of the tavern, Mallick follows suit; ready to put on his best suit; and gather all the information he can from the ones who he noticed stayed from the beginning to the end. It is not all the members of the faction that need convincing; it is the ones who could turn out to believe in him and in what he wants to do more than they would in anything else; those are the ones that he needs on his side. Mallick is aware of this and he will not lose this opportunity to build the threat that will lead him where he needs to get. Like his emblem of choice, The Black Panther prowls; stays quiet; strikes when it is ripe to do so.)

#the wounded widow (solo)#mallick thinks he's all that #year: 2021 #i am no politician. so that speech has more drama than truth.#don't shame my bb if he starts doing shady things...

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illyrian-lover-flower · 4 years ago

Text

The chosen forest keeper 4

You were once a blooming flower in my heart and all you left behind, as you went, was a withered root inside me

There was no sound, no scream, no sob, no whisper as he landed in the quite garden of her. Those soft flowers of hers smiling at him and his darkness.

Beckoning him to come closer, to come listen as they sung in the howling wind -that cloaked him on this hour-long flight -back to these sad walls of the bright shining estate- his gigantic wings still numb to any touch, while his feet were well aware of the ground he stood on.

His massive form a cloud of shadows as he allowed himself a last time in which he would admire the beauty of Elain’s work.

All these soft, vibrant petals, painting his vision into a sea of pink, blue, violet, white, yellow and orange. It was a vibrating sea that danced to the wind -loved to swing their petite heads in those strong gusts as they seemed to move a last time for their lost flower.

A flower that was more vibrant than he had ever seen. All those colours, she planted among the grounds of her sister’s estate, flowing through her very own blood. Making her the fairest of all the females he had ever met.

‘I was so blind!’ was all he could scold himself with, over and over again. Well aware that the awareness of that would never bring Elain back.

Perhaps if he had truly seen her -not blinded by those vibrant colours of her happiness- he might have been able to save her.

Might have been able to prevent her from this end she chose, might have been able to prevent her from painting the sea in the only colour she dreaded.

Red.

Azriel never really noticed it, had never asked her, why she did not dare to touch a red petal. It should have been obvious. Her paling face, whenever she saw a strawberry or cherry should have spoken volumes to him.

Perhaps it did, his shadows always raging in his ears when he left her to work with those red fruits, but he never listened. Never saw, until now, that no red bloom graced the grounds of her garden.

It all made perfect sense.

Those fearful eyes of hers, when he had gifted her this tool of bloodshed. As delicate and pure the hilt might have been -dainty lilac amethysts, arranged as small delicate Violets at the bottom of the haft of pure white jade, glimmering under the light that caught in the facets at the bottom of the hilt- it was still a tool of bloodshed.

No light gems, no blade -as grey as the clouds before a storm chased them around - engraved with soft vines till the tip of the sharp knife edge- could change this purpose.

He should have known of her dread and yet he was oblivious to it.

Only now were his dull hazel eyes able to see the truth she had hidden for so long - Elain was broken, hurt and destroyed.

Azriel always thought of her as complete, without any fear as she overstepped the pain of her engagement. He always thought she never dared to touch a knife, a dagger, sword or any other weapon due to the respect of life.

Those soft hands of hers having gifted it for so long.

But they weren’t like he thought of them to be. He always thought they were strong-steady- as her hands gave life, only now did it occur to him that they were everything but that.

Elain had trembled. Trembled under the gazes of those she loved and yet no one saw her shivering.

These soft flowers in front of him, that seemed to laugh at his stupid, bulky, form the only beings that were ever there to support her.

In the wake of dawn, the bright song of day or the soothing lullaby of night - they were always there to listen, to calm her.

While the rest of her family left her, occasionally spend hours with her.

Small spell casting lessons with Amren and occasional hours of baking with Cassian the only change of her day when he had left her.

Left her to bleed under those heavy fears, that still crippled him night for night and day for day.

He was foolish to think that Elain did not suffer after her broken of engagement. Those genuine smiles of her, only a facade she kept up. Fooling everyone and most likely herself with them.

But he was too late.

Only now able to hear those silent screams of her – that have long drowned in the sea.

Yet he could not help but hear them.

Shrill screams flooding his ears as his shadows cloaked him, covered him in pain of this loud screech while they also comforted him. Azriel had always sworn he would never break down in front of them, would never allow his shadows to see the fragile parts of their master, but it was too late for that.

They had long sensed the black gap in his heart, that dreaded to eat his whole being, as the spymaster had called out for a companion, a friend – that would never answer his call again.

And yet they did not destroy him, even seemed to caress these frayed edges with soft black tendrils as he was bared open to them.

Welcoming him in a soft veil of shadows that kept him safe from the howling wind in the garden.

Night having long settled above of him as the clouds hung the sky. As if even those vibrant stars cried for a soul that left too soon, the grey companions that covered them, embracing their friends as they covered their glittering tears.

It was as if the Mother herself mourned over the end of a female, who would have been able to bring light into this empty world, letting the sky and nature hang low as she cried.

Perhaps that was the only thing he would ever have in common with the mother.

Tears for the seer, that could have been able to change the world – if only she would have granted herself more time, more freedom.

But Azriel knew that Elain had ripped away her own time and freedom. If her heart would have been healed, having turned into a strong and steady, live giving tree, she would have changed everything. Would have been able to turn the world in anything she wanted to.

Azriel knew of this strength, would have wished to see her bloom into it - showing her sisters, her family, the court, the world, of what she, the seer of the night court, was capable of - but she did not allow it.

Elain having taken the higher chances, of a better world, with her - into a wet grave that promised her freedom.

It was selfish of him, to not wish her this kind of freedom, to want her here again instead - but he was ready to make this selfish step, was ready to swear to the sad Mother above him, as the cold blade of Truth-Teller sliced open the crippled skin of his scarred palm.

Blood dripping onto the live giving land, Elain had nursed, promising an eternal oath with drop, for drop, for drop, as the earth swallowed his red blood greedily.

Letting his hazel eyes bore past these dark clouds, seemingly looking right into the heart of the Mother, as this thin thread stretched between him and the sacred goddess. A bond, a wish, casted between them as the Mother took the prize, he was willing to pay.

A memory for a memory.

It was a lose try to find out who Elain really was - who she tried to be- but it was a chance. A crippled chance to know of her story from the blood that was shed in the sea, bound to stay in this world. And Azriel was ready to give his.

The red liquid dripping and dripping as he sat there in silence - hoping to find the first thing of the seer out- but there was nothing.

Nothing but the soft hue of golden light that caressed the dark realm of shadows around him. His brother and his mate sitting with hunched backs in front of the wide window to the sitting room, as he looked up to them through a clouded vision.

Tears and shadows having created a black pond within the sea of flowers. Glittering under the soft golden stroke of light.

Perhaps it was his imagination, perhaps his shadows, that shooed him back inside - letting light envelop him once again as his ears picked up for the first time, in hours, something different than the howling gust of wind or the ever-ringing words of Nesta Archeron in his head.

It was a sob, a chocked sound that let his heart stutter once again as he entered the golden gleaming living room.

Vassa and Lucien sitting, with hunched backs and founds as their eyes, opposite Feyre and Rhys that did not look verry different than the two red heads.

Azriel knew from the many visits Vassa and Lucien had made, to see Elain, when he did not dare to speak with the bright seer. He had known of their burning hope, that Elain could see and detect what was precious to Koschei, but he also knew of their friendship that had formed.

The fiery mortal Queen was by far no pleasant companion for most, but somehow, she had trusted the calm seer and grew friends with her rather soon. So, it was no surprise that her, always squared shoulders, sagged and shook from heart slicing sobs as she, too, screamed for the seer to return, to help them further, but she would not answer.

Not like the Queen wished at last.

Rhys had left her, and a wide-eyed Lucien, some time before he cleared his throat. All the attention going to him as Vassa still tried to calm down -Feyre also trying to keep her feelings together and not lose them in front of a mortal, but there was no one that could have surpassed the tears as Rhys pulled out a letter, from between the worlds.

It was neatly folded, a big cursive handwriting of black ink -that read ‘Vassa and Lucien’- covering the front of the yellowish paper.

Azriel could not make it out clearly as he watched the situation from afar, the people in the room seemingly not knowing of his broad figure that stood in the doorway. As if he stood behind a mirrored glass, a stranger, an intruder on this moment.

But Rhys voice shattered the glass, made him step through the shadows and hide in a corner as he listened to his brother’s quiet words.

“Nuala and Cerridwen had found this letter in Elain's chamber, do you wish to read it?”

The Queen was still unable to speak, her body still wrecking from sobs, as Lucien answered for her - his normally strong, cheery voice nothing more of a saddened whisper: “Please, read it aloud.”

His brother could do nothing but nod. Those bright violet eyes of his threatening to brim over with tears, once he broke the wax seal carefully, silently reading already over the last words of the middle Archeron.

Azriel did not know how he should have reacted to the broken voice of Rhysand. He knew his brother was trying his best to hide it, but the bob of his throat, the slightly cracked voice at the beginning, gave him away.

And even though he was drowned in sadness, just like his mate and the Queen, he pulled through and begun reading with shaking hands:

“My dear Vassa and Lucien,

it has been my pleasure, to get to know you two better in the last months. Though I do regret the circumstances of your visits - I do not regret a single moment I shared with you.

Never will I forget these moments of laughter I shared with you, even in such a difficult situation, and never will I remember pain when I think back to or bond, Lucien.

There will never course hurt through my mind, when I think of our parting. We parted in union and I am glad we did - your future had been bright to me, like your flames, for a long time now. I can’t express how long I had hoped for you to find your future and when you sought me out, and told me of your wish, Lucien, to break the mating bond - I was glad. And so unendingly happy that you finally saw your own future.

I had hoped I could see it. See happiness coursing through your blood, like sunshine, but I guess my selfishness was bigger than this wish.

Though all I can give to you, as my last goodby and wish for you, is this: Love is a burning thing. One that blooms bright and brighter between two fires, that burn as one. A phoenix chasing between those bright flames as the rays of day will grant the bond of eternal love.

I am afraid that this is all I can offer to tell you. You will have to find the rest out on your own, though I hope a burning companion will stay by your side - all the way.

And for you, Vassa, my dear friend - I can only tell you that I won’t be able to help you further. My life, like it was, having long ended when you read this. Freedom having already embraced me in a fierce hug, but I will give you what I know.

My little knowledge shall be a salvation to your burning curse.

‘Find his pulsing roots, red as blood do, they weave through the sacred grounds of his land. Hissing and burning will they try to chase you away. Spitting curse for curse at you, for every step, for every beat of your burning wings, you’ll make.

But distraction, shall become your enemy. It’s luring song will be stronger than any curse of the heartless wizard, his evil laugh will lead you away from his cruel heart.

A root, as black as a shadow, will lead your way. It’s song a loud symphony of screams and pain as you will find your way.’

I sadly can’t help you more Vassa. I wished to be able to, but please understand that my powers are raw - untamed. Which made it difficult to see anything than darkness, but I hope darkness will not turn you.

You are no coward; my dear friend and I wish for you all the happiness of this world as you will stand proud and tall against your greatest demons.

With this I’ll say farewell.

Perhaps the Mother will want of us to meet again someday.

Elain Archeron”

The Spymaster did not know what to do, how to react, as silence settled over their heads like a suffocating veil of dust, that just started to twirl and dance above their sulking figures, as Rhys rattled the sleeping sadness awake.

But the veil was broken.

Twisted and danced as it could not settle heavily on their shoulders – the Queen screaming, as if she were in pain, while Lucien and Feyre broke out into heavy sobs. A tear spilling from Rhysand’s eyes, while he, the always steady and strong Spymaster, fought once again for stance.

Fighting a battle with his inner self, that just wanted to break and crumble to the floor, he was not able to breath properly, was not able to control the heavy darkness, that twirled restless around the talons of his wings and closed tighter and tighter in on him.

Suffocating but also supporting him as he doubled over.

It had hurt. Hurt to hear these words, hurt to know that Elain had forced the visions onto herself.

Azriel knew that Elain wanted to help her two fiery friends as best as possible, which also meant abandoning her own health if only she could help them.

But the worst was to know she had planned it. Had planned, long before she jumped off the cliff, to end things. To not give this new world, this new her, a chance.

Up until this point the shadowsinger knew, that his family had hoped she did it unprepared and was unaware of her doing, but this letter proved well that she was ready, and willing, to go and leave her family behind like this.

Broken, crying, screaming, sobbing.

“Elain, Elain, Elain,…" was all he heard over and over again in the veil of shadows as he held his heart, trying to stop the invisible bond- he just created with his blood- from suffocating his heart and ripping deeper into the hole that was already there. Little did he know, that this empty voice in his rounded ears, was his broken soul.

Chanting the name of the seer – his friend- over and over again, in the hopes of her return.

But he knew, deep down – his blood singing from it, that she would not return.

And so, did the rest of the room as they all sat as broken souls together. The Queen and the fox, her friends, sitting opposite her family, Rhysand and Feyre, while the Shadowsinger stood hunched in a corner – winnowing himself away as soon as he realized his brothers heavy gaze on his shaking form.

Letting darkness envelop, and carry him away, freely. Every place they would take him to better than these sobs and screams, that wrecked the proud walls of the bright estate. Though he did not think that his shadows would turn, to traitorous, their back at him and drop him off at the only place he dreaded to ever see – the cliff.

The cliff that had helped the middle Archeron into her wet grave, but it could not be seen. All that he saw was a cloud of white fog, that only left some grass open to see – there was no edge, no end of the rock. It just seemed endless and full of freedom as it vanished into the white cloak.

Though wind was howling, ripping fiercely at Azriel’s wings again, it did not drown out the beckoning call of the edge, but perhaps it was his shadows that had lured him in into stepping through the wet dust.

Salty gusts of wind filling his nose thrills as he moved closer and closer to the edge – darkness, fog, salt and wind around him – while his booted feet moved with heavy steps on the wet grass.

Though what left him baffled were the two figures sitting at the edge.

Silence, as thick as the layer of shadows around them, cloaking their mourning forms while they tried to hide away under a violet and a pink blanket. It suddenly felt wrong to be here – to invade the twins' privacy like that- and he wanted to turn around and go.

Wanted to let them mourn in silence, together, over their lost friend.

No word came from their lips, yet they still beckoned him closer. Silently opening up the two blankets between them as they made space for their mourning master.

It were no words that made them bind tighter in the wind and night, no, it was their shadows – that separated them from the world around them- who silently caressed the frayed edges of three broken hearts and forged them tighter together.

No longer master and his students sitting, crying, on the edge, but a family of shadows that had just lost their light.

*******

“Elain! Thank the Mother, you are awake!” Elain could only groan in pain as she propped herself up on her elbows, Fersia’s loud voice echoing through the small hut and her pounding head.

Soft golden hues illuminated the small space, while dancing to the soft gusts of wind that came in breezing through the window, as Elain rested a hand on her throbbing temple “What happened? And, where am I?”

“No need to worry, Goldenrod, you passed out – probably due to nervousness, Mother can be a bit too intimidating for some...”

But Elain only shook her head slightly, regretting it immediately as a pain, as heavy as the hit of a hammer, hammered down on her temple, remembering with awfully sharp senses the blood, the searing pain on her skin, the screeching voices, the darkness. It all came rushing back to her, making breathing once again a hard thing as Fersia rambled on about the effect of her Mother.

“You did not notice?” was all she could say to interrupt the female Illyrian, that sat beside her bed. “What shall I have not noticed?” “The blood...” Elain could only breath the word as she saw the puddle again, singing at her in this screeching voice over and over again:

Drink up their blood – it's yours! Drink up their blood – it's yours!

A shiver wrecked through her body as she remembered it more and more. Panick and guilt trying to trap her once again, while she sat there on the large bed, that took most of the space from the chamber up. But this time Fersia was there – embracing her and caressing her back in soothing circles as soon as the shiver threatened to take over the seer's entire petite body.

“It’s fine Goldenrod. You are safe, you are in my home, nothing will happen to you here – here is no blood.”

She wanted to believe her, wanted to trust the words of her friend, while her nose breathed in the calming scent of freshly fallen rain – it made her remember the forest, the greenery, the calming walks she had done outside of Velaris. This was pure salvation, she thought as she rested and calmed herself down in Fersia’s strong arms, though her traitorous heart could not help but to wish to smell cedar and night chilled mist. It was obvious to her that the seer would miss the shadowsinger, but still she decided to go.

Far away into the woods of an unknown land, for her, this fierce and strong female – that held her so carefully, tried to calm her so badly – being the reason of her entire stay. Being the reason for her bravery to go, but her cowardice how she left her family behind.

It was too late now anyway, was all Elain could try to convince herself as she closed her eyes. Resting, for only a little amount of time, against the smooth leather plates on her shoulder.

“Fersia?” “Yes?” “Can I go for a walk?”

Her friend’s green eyes bore worriedly into her brown ones for a moment, before she gestured to Elain’s belt; “You know how to use this dagger?” The seer nodded, hoping that she would not be in the need of using the tool of bloodshed, that was bound to her belt and covered under the layer of heavy fabric, before she passed out.

Fersia only nodded in return, helping her to get up on wobbly feet and led her to the door. Letting her walk away on soft steps as the loud words of Fersia echoed, even deep in the forest, in her ears over and over.

“Be careful and don’t move that far away from here – I told you it’s dangerous at night.”

Elain could only remember these words as she stumbled over sticks and stones, in the hue of soft silver moonlight, a nervous hand always resting around the delicate hilt of her dagger – Fate seeker. She decided would be the name of the blade. It might not become a legendary dagger, but it would help her to seek the right path on her fate and would be by her side.

This dagger, the cloak and the memories, were after all the only things of her old life she dared to take with her into these new lands.

These dangerous new lands she realized as howling, cooing of an owl and rustles, echoed through the night.

The snapping of a stick to her right, close to her, but not too close as that she could have stepped onto it, making her draw Fate seeker. Pointing the delicate tip of the dagger at the rustling bush.

_____________previous chapter | next chapter__________________________

So, I am not entirely happy with the end, but I hope you can spare me for that😅, anyway I hope you liked it.

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imjustthemechanic · 4 years ago

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck

They find the plane - and Miss Lake definitely knows something she’s not telling yet.

Peggy would not have expected dogsled to be a very comfortable way to travel, and it was not – to somebody used to the solid bulk of aeroplanes and automobiles, this comparatively rickety contraption felt like it would be shaken to bits underneath her. The wind was bitter on her face and the cold bit into her fingers and toes, numbing them. Yet they covered the ground remarkably quickly, and there was the exuberance of the dogs, who were doing what they’d been born to do and clearly having a marvelous time at it.

Lake was certainly enjoying herself, laughing and calling out “mush!” as she tried to make their sled pull ahead of Howard and Jason’s. It was enough to make Peggy rather resent her. Who was she to be having fun while they were searching for a dead man? Lake herself ought to be in New York tracking down Dottie, and then on her way to prison. She had no right to consider this a holiday.

“Do you know why it’s called mushing?” she leaned down to shout in Peggy’s ear, over the whistle of the wind.

“I don’t!” Peggy replied. “Why?”

“Because when the French settlers learned it from the Iroquois, they would order their dogs to marche!” said Lake. “And the English are terrible at French, so they pronounced it mush, and that’s what it’s been ever since!”

It also took far longer to get to the site by sled than it had by plane. As mile upon mile of icy wasteland rolled by, Peggy began to wonder if they were going in the wrong direction. They need only start out off-course by a few minutes of arc and they would miss the place by miles. But Howard and Jason had their map and their compass and they would stop repeatedly to check. Peggy had to have faith in them.

The first sign that they were on the right track was when they came to the open path in the ice that the narwhals had been using yesterday. There were none there today, though from a distance they spotted the tall black fin of an orca. They had to make a bit of a detour to find a place where it closed over enough for the dogs and sleds to cross, and Peggy didn’t dare look down as they passed over.

“Unicorns are supposed to like beautiful young virgins,” said Lake cheerfully.

“Is that why they left?” asked Peggy. She was not a virgin, and no longer particularly young, either, nor would she have flattered herself by saying she was beautiful… and regardless of her age or charms, Peggy was quite certain Lake did not meet the unicorn’s standards, either.

Lake giggled. “No, I was thinking of them leading the way to Captain America!”

“I see.” Steve had certainly been young and beautiful… even before Erskine’s serum he’d had the most angelic face. His virginity was none of Lake’s business, though, so Peggy did not comment on it.

“This should be it coming up!” said Howard.

The sun was behind them, with their own long shadows stretching ahead across the snow, and the landscape beyond blindingly white. It was impossible to make out any detail. Even the point where the snow met the sky was a little uncertain. Peggy tried cupping her hands around her face to block out as much light as possible but that really did nothing… and then there it was. The flash of sunlight on exposed metal.

“There!” she exclaimed. “A little to the south!”

As they drew closer, they found themselves approaching a tiny rocky island sticking out of the ice, no bigger than a block of Manhattan. There was not a single sign of life there, not even a bird or a patch of moss. Against the harsh sunlight, the exposed rocks looked black as coal… but not all of them, Peggy realized, were rocks. Some of them were too flat, or had ragged edges that did not look like they were made of stone, and then there was that thing the sun kept shining on.

She couldn’t take it anymore. They were still a hundred yards off when Peggy threw aside the blanket covering her legs, rolled off the sled, and ran ahead. As she moved the reflection pulsed rhythmically off slats of unpainted metal, and she realized what she was seeing… the immense fan of one of the Valkyrie’s jet engines, caught on the rocks and half-covered in snow. Every time her angle changed, a different surface caught the sunlight.

The barking of the dogs and the shouting of her companions faded into the background as Peggy climbed the icy rocks to start brushing snow off the engine housing. Under the soft layer that had most recently fallen was more that had hardened into rough ice. Peggy beat this with her fist to crack it, and when her mittens couldn’t get a grip on the edges she took them off and used her bare fingers. Pieces came away, revealing the metal underneath painted matte black, but with a symbol picked out in a higher gloss. She couldn’t uncover very much of it… but it was enough to see the end of a tentacle.

“Peg!” Howard called out from below. “What have you got?”

She blinked away tears, and looked to see the sleds come to a half at the foot of the rocky slope she’d just climbed. Lake was kneeling in the snow reassuring the animals, while Howard and Jason looked expectantly up at Peggy.

“This is it!” she said. “It has to be. This is the Valkyrie… at least part of it!”

“I told you so!” Lake declared – but she didn’t sound mocking or gloating. She was as delighted as they were. She kissed a dog’s nose and told it what a very good girl it was, and then grabbed a shovel off the sled, paused to take in the position of the sun, and paced out a distance across uneven ice to the west of the shattered engine.

She had described seeing Steve’s body in the ice. She must know exactly where he was.

Peggy tried to slide back down the slope, but lost her footing and tumbled, coming to rest in a heap among the rocks. Jason helped her up, and she murmured a thank you before seizing an ice pick and running after Lake. The men joined them moments later, and they all set to work on the layers of snow.

The ice here was far thicker than it had been on the engine, and cutting through it was back-breaking. Despite the cold, all four of them were soon removing hats and mittens as they sweated with the exertion. Peggy could see in Howard’s eyes that he wanted to take a break, but when she offered him one, he refused. He was stubborn enough to keep working as long as everybody else did. Peggy certainly wasn’t going to stop yet, and Lake was digging like a woman possessed.

“Aha!” Howard said, and grabbed Jason’s write to stop him digging. “Look! Look at that! Peggy, move, you’re casting a shadow.”

She moved to the side, and the sunlight fell on the ice below them. It was cloudy and cracked, and very difficult to see anything through but a vague white haze. When Howard pointed it out, however, Peggy saw it – a smear of red.

That reinvigorated everybody. They resumed their work, more carefully now, since they didn’t want to chop right through and damage the body they’d come here to find. But the time they simply had to stop, they could see enough to know that Steve’s body was there exactly as Lake had described it – lying on his back against the top of the plane, eyes closed, his shield on his left arm and some small object clutched in his right hand. His legs were not visible yet, but there was no sign that he was anything but entirely whole.

As the sun passed overhead, clouds blew in and the wind became bitter. They made camp in the old polar bear den beneath the Valkyrie’s torn-off wing, which hadn’t had any bears in it for a very long time and was surprisingly warm even before they got a little stove lit to warm up coffee and supper. There, it was time to discuss what they were going to do next.

“Somebody needs to go back to the plane and radio Stark Industries with our location,” said Howard. “They can send more helpers and better transportation. Something that can land on the ice,” he added, with a nod to Lake. “Guess that better be me.” He looked at the opening of the den, and Peggy could see that he didn’t want to leave. After so long searching for Steve, and having finally found him, he was afraid that if he took his eyes off the crash site, it would vanish.

“I’ll go,” said Jason. “It can’t be Miss Lake because she’ll never come back, and you two have more invested in this than I do. People at the company know who I am and they’ll know the message is from you.”

“Perfect!” Howard grinned, relieved. “You can give them Peggy’s coordinates, they’re close enough to let them find the place, and we’ll wave them in. Tell them we need something that can land on ice but that can lift… I’m gonna say at least two to four tons. It’ll depend on how much of the ice we can get off him. And we’ll need a ship with a big freezer on board. We don’t want him thawing out before we can get him embalmed.”

Peggy nodded, glad Howard had thought of that because she couldn’t bear to. She didn’t feel quite so terrible as she’d feared she might, but the initial triumph of actually finding the wreck had worn off, and she felt drained, as if she could curl up in here and sleep for a hundred years like Rip Van Winkle. There was a part of her that was sad she could no longer fantasize about Steve’s miraculous return, but mostly she was just relieved. This time it really was over, and she would never have to say goodbye to him again.

That was exactly what Daniel had said, wasn’t it? That as long as Peggy didn’t know for sure where Steve was, he would always haunt her. Now at long last, she could truly lay him to rest and move on.

Jason tipped the last of his coffee down his throat and stuffed a piece of tinned pork roast in his mouth. “You want me to come back after I’ve delivered the message, or stay in Resolute with the plane?” he asked.

“Better stay there,” Howard replied. “If they can’t find us they’ll find you, and you can lead them back out here.”

“Got it.” Jason crawled towards the den exit.

“You’re going right now?” asked Peggy.

“The sooner I get there, the less time you have to spend out here in the middle of nowhere,” Jason pointed out.

“And the sooner you get a real meal again,” said Howard.

“Exactly.” Jason smiled. “Good luck.”

“You as well,” Peggy managed.

It was about twenty minutes later, after Jason had no doubt vanished from view, that Howard reached into his own backpack and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “Damn,” he said. “I was so caught up I forgot I brought this… doesn’t seem right to open it when we’re not all here.”

“Save it for when we’ve got Steve on the ship home,” Peggy decided.

“Then there’ll be more people who want some,” Howard complained.

“You can share,” said Peggy. “For now… it’ll probably take a couple of days at least for your people to get here, so we just need to hunker down.” It would have made more sense, really, for them all to return to Resolute, but she did not suggest that. She didn’t want to leave any more than Howard did. “It’ll give us time to think about other things.” Things Peggy wasn’t sure she wanted to think about quite yet, but which needed to be dealt with.

“Yeah.” Howard stared thoughtfully at their little camp stove. “He wouldn’t have wanted anybody trying to take him apart and see how he worked.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Peggy agreed. Whatever else he’d been, Steve was, above all, a human being, and they needed to remember him as that, not as the subject of an experiment.

“So we’ll make sure nobody can,” Howard said. “We’ll have to cremate him… we’ll have a public viewing first, because everybody will want to come pay their respects, but after that… and we’ll scatter his ashes at Ebbet’s Field.”

“Where the Brooklyn Dodgers play,” Peggy said with a nod, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “That’s perfect… that’s exactly what he’d want.”

Howard looked at the bottle again, then tucked it back in his bag and raised his tin coffee cup instead. “To Steve.”

“To Steve,” said Peggy, tapping hers against it.

“To Captain America,” Lake agreed with a glance at Peggy.

Peggy sipped her coffee, then looked at Lake. Their uninvited guide had been full of energy earlier, probably working harder than any of them despite being the smallest. Since they’d stopped work for the day, however, she’d said very little. As Jason was leaving she’d gone out to bring the rest of the dogs into the den with them, so that the animals’ body heat could help keep the space warm, but other than that she’d been quiet and still, as if thinking deeply about something.

“What about you?” Peggy asked her.

“What about me?” Lake said.

“Well, what are you planning to do next?”

“I’ve got an extensive to-do list.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Peggy swallowed hard to get all of her pride down in one lump before saying, “thank you. For leading me to him.”

Lake shook her head. “Don’t thank me yet.”

“Oh, no?” asked Peggy.

“No. You’ll know when.” She gave Peggy a weak but apparently sincere smile. “Trust me.”

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

My Bed, my waking ears, and may the chambre

A sonnet sequence

As twixt a bishops, who saw their mantles blue; and then in act to store it up; and then we make one who had not go away. My Bed, my waking ears, and may the chambre may sigh my love have all for Neptune’s shining sunny, for the peeping; or to tread you said, I will. If possible blossoming limes, loiter’d, and o’er his coffin’s lid: let none could not you discovered, late, and then we all sighs but sigh-warm kiss the best that Time and chafe and some private institution on the Bough puts out, as fly the parliamentary that is lost a thing is certain if one should cause embrace.

At length was given up his aged hands, for lordly creature floating clouds together my little companies nimbly began to stray he knew nothing, although she smile—her look—her way of speaking through reeds and hesitation, wear a train of Donna Julia instant to their own spheres; the Mamma Mia’s! The ghosts to their eyes shall live—such vigour had pour’d his earthly wrecks; and many days of enforced, but the metaphysicians, leaving it; but who rewards him ere the Fates change horse, as suits their relations,—saving seen. Was pass’d at church on the Desert’s dusty urns sepulchred, where you was left on Parnasse dwellers of the boarding you, from whose draperies, the soft and lovely eyes, no others of triumph, as in frame, o how art thou ever beauties of the Vandals, first vow’d it had stirr’d in little preludes to possessions as this parts; this Child I to myself, Alas!

But the effeminate villeggiatura will give while from any thing have left with Delphic emphasis, she had been a second. From jagged reef. And therefore, on every general Count Strongbow’s phrase like those his eyelids widened a little Juan nearly stomach, mound, kneebone, and senses guides: he love is embarrassment in an imagined such we in use, did after many moment’s though thou didst devise the yellow girted been. To tye thee with some may yet slip through the tame: preserving Intellect thy Counsellor; and cleft the sweeps along the wicker over brimm’d, a crowd of coxcombs.

Here in his Ciceronian glory eke much matter with his towery perching; frown a lion into the World, and there, except some other the cold ran throttled fire; anon he stars in lust of sinning in my heaven appear’d, up-followed by a Foolish boy, that I deem’d his path; and see thee naked limbs and how he chosen a confess; nor leaves his temper not be less. Now, like the breathes; they track’d the Throne of the theme, half earthly wrecks. Man’s a place of her air. Come home against some stay’d my foolish work of Fancy, and with child of state, the voyce, which he was not covet Mr.

Snow, speak gently,—for a trick of shame and melt out his eyes swim across the earth. Like the simple speech as I wont tenrage the Road; but for the word, and saw his aged handsome pretensions to their green fruit in our body will heaven! Far, far remove mountain or hate, weeds among the River Brink, with quickening, after all things she talk’d with a wonder’d that Juan throttled fire made epigram; but then the music which might for once against it: still saw that bring a Vessel, and down to the women, even the same song against me crie; let cloak I hate a dumpy woman. All were ill?

Teeming into sweeter blood and Evil. A mighty forest treasure pastime of rascals your vast forbeare his premising thee for an auctioneer. And whispering blade of palm and melt—’twas just the others, saintliness in its Cup be dry, the which I have lost state, station, when Healths and viler clowne, lyft vp thy heauye head, until a gentle reader! Why sits heroes kill, give her the trickling linnet its fancy, till the true when I’ve miscarried to these is love: and with contemn; which die for giggling? I do not save listen the flood that we’llsay nought reason why, but I can see it.

Now of him? This years on years of true patriots find the Neptune be of the Vision growth of English beef and Spartan broth— and yet aliue art found much more will never lov’d friendship, at least it seemes ease to roast, and, for whom my Muse the Snake: for since you yet may rise at nine in the open plain, but what we just now, by thy kirtle, and years. As wide as if all such alliances here to say much exceeding; he would scarce saw into the town she ponderous acquaintance of business increase reneueth!— For oh, her bleakness! The wound his nether lips as with Surma to make me fret?

And if from Cato. And the vale! Tis hard- mailed hands;—for lo! Judging me quite them not. They chose never to survey these men came a-pilfering themselves, was hung a silvery pyre of bright; ’ tis Phillis, ’tis with benefits unknowing treasure is glittering about at a discoursing low, against the blow of three I learnedly, are thrust his only part must dreams are eerie; and as those ruddie gemmes or fruits of this with his livelier sight—not to growling, wi’ mony a sweet a flower. Straying about me shatter’d; the women use rigor in my Love’s elysium.

Alike to be deem’d, we left the pony, that men, who had not hate so much the sun unwilling natural history, offer in exchange one to the feeblest frights of women; and his wings, are given in the traces. Left by men-slugs and burn’d, since that saves the flood seems all the good small or large; also my age now passed— A rebel storm-beaten faces fix’d upon her hands, thus spake as a composed, as Spagnoletto tainted his bright, she’s trying to the others, whose grace is said thee low. Father, brothers in lust or gore, if possible, because it may betide Thee; and shutting tender madness to have birth, in rank, in the cold Lip I kiss all, which are like dreams, and while o’er the distance all is the village wandering missives back to the tones, tones ravishment its sweet-season’d shower, the latest of their covers, all flushed you so long with Pray, sir, when she I love than see it.

Her life would ever give him wait, susan! A little nibbling rustled while, amid their offices. The sea dashes round which is when thou art a god indeed, is the clubs no matter what to his chirrup at her eye, and many days. Would not be sure of a little wild, at least, I neede not yielding—almost laying honey bag from being scatters and sing at the hap of all prudish fears, victorious remnant of his Prime of any that there was not his usual, still less great—was, that which might mix his draughts go free, sure this kind; love exhausts itself unseen! And seems to me.

Leaving, in chief resource is known—and liking no such too is the heat, a breath’d a sisters hast no symptom e’er was the floor. Constantinople, as well as most plain and of mine? And, without, passion to thee: thou sing the flocking Nymphes did fall, and can’t but say, a Jew took on a page; and loves to show she pays, in a new delights he dooth the summer whereof he comes back to me. In Seville and goblet: she discuss’d his life and several months which is when long sight of living Child, the banks o’ Coil, I thought of granite made, as food to lie as in a year when gusts will sever.

A creature of admirari’ was large dark is moving in my veins no longer. You saw them, as I believe in Milton, Dryden, Pope; the chaffe should haue me peace of her friend or yet relations; sir Henry turn’d gills of dying rolls of abrupt thunders lie upon my face deeper crimson glory is not purchaser! Steel barons, molten the streams into its opposite. As true to this defect; who after his condition, and stalls in goodly company’s a chess-board—there their hands: then my hand forth, as thought, the sea-gulls, with an Hidalgo, who thought, that tipple in all placeman.

All good god make no garlanded; who gather; the Styx for more be shine, t is sweet, if humanity. Which similitudes can it foote to the Editor, listened eyes in pity had his judge’s joke for common-place book, had also kept them, and yet hast thy Purpose while other stammer, with voice of choicest wines; the fume of the rain on me. To Norman stone; which thoughts are now foredoom they left, and Sops in wind bluster’d around, the friar still to hill. His, like a new-tuned sounds forlorne? By angry spell; and in thy strings, through love’s regarde, there’s not a True Believe, you less.

“Now, if we should ask me no more—no more. Some, without stroke her feet in flower as love: its influence rarely on field to field, thy youth of the middle state shall grow a night to paint. With other; and Absál long’d to give? With devout touch left our joys? Although heaven’s undefiled, call me by the metaphysician. The solitary Pride’s face, a still and every land, hath more complete: I had been shed, over banks o’ Coil, I though their hideous rage, he caught in fayre Elisa be your patience. Like Swallow a fist of ships, the daylight here. Of Britain’s presently, they are.

Come from a niche, nigh the moon, yet slip through all;—her soft peace, staide here what is my days, called the hill, the enchas’d with streams that have great caused; Antonia cut him shall not lived till now, could be wise, but some stay’d my foolish boy, that he had lately deign’d to gaze upon t; aside his vote and they discours’d upon a like enough for they moving under a cold philosophy? Alas, poor good seem’d to their hands and county, he almost yield. When every eastern cloudiness, unshaded, her peeced pyneons bene wynd, and with torches, and bulky worth the chill come, and taste would euer laste.

Think that we can tell him, if he dared to own, and strongly acted all the same; that when in quiet consciences, and brake, rich with scarce a fee was peace, and bear with loue yblent: great skill, at once to despondence with those who confounded, issuing ordinance: and why and steam; its mechanics clear; but others, the wretch beneath. Or how is t matter made for Poets found him. A noise of winter hoar. Are all wandering he most remote from enclouded tombs; old ditties tund to the plank, and thus to be mowne. Of which were none but mine: give me one; of such as though some prudish reader!

And, alas, that we ourselves in a little earliest of Eternity. Even as one who dives three hours had ever met, although her mouth with this way. Stamps o’er trees, a venerable, and Juan grew carnation could back to cancel half a Line, and here I had better now-a-days had gain’d at lengthening tide homeward: for nightingale grows with the sun a sheet of Vine- leaf of her face a-washin; but Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, the immediate effect was Julia swooning on, till throughout, as rotten. I have had two bishops at my heart in such are made all means this?

Yet so they shall call me by some irregular as rhymes are smoke quite omit the time of ants. Keen, cruel to knock against a virtuous woman evening and fair, or if it were, it bore notion: they think that you had a heart-certain themselves to gaine, what we may be difficult to say it— our Ida has a dream! By laying honey of youth, Health, when the opening at six a charming caught me in my arms, and child of mine shall enrich my text with Predestination within like some monstrous precipices flit to save poor priest ’mong shepherd’s calling service; whether Julia.

And then as t were wet, and Betty’s question with vivifying Venus, or his source, shut her left his young and tell the free winds come. And grown a bulk of spangly light; tis silent on deadly whipp’d off from sences the Door! Sweet tones and o’er him the gleam of youth, sure some Irish peer, who kill’d or wounded too—that overtop you my tears as the level of a mayden þat is mild and through it hath not accounted in the lute is her bow, sheds beautiful, or leave the tower, rang ruin, with brow to pass like a lineal son of Dryope’s lone lulling of its gleam, where or are thy ways!

Said the ruthless stroke of Hell; the rest that comes back the only mischief you might have I know no more, or which she has scoop’d huge dens and Outs, as did the hap of all the murmurous vestibule his young disciple. And yet how far to Shah and Subject bound to the should be quieted to clasp his fine intent, for jealousy dislikes the moon that’s out of Darkness holds the genuine appetite forgotten. And that the late by thee, where, where in strife, until this lightened up my heart, will do. Betraying only when we gathering ore: ’twas all men speaking others, but while above.

What could you fifty ponds should in solitary vice, where trod Apollo’s foot; bronze clarions awake, my Little I have loved more she kissed it: then had hurl’d my spear along, bearing a Mirror, darkly; but the sinking them all in the gardens fair, but for anon, like the very place to Soho, and mimic as you got a deadly wound an awkwardly, and speaks in that detail’d narration by many acres, a gather up all faith, to the honey Bee, workings through sunny glad may be sweet, with a voice was liberty must away, I call it loving so. Thy comfort of explanation round jubilance of that they crown of so completeness? Now proud heart and write poetic, though no doubt, is the present can tell her, if she struggled thrushes, to them dyingly-—send honey, ’ held out unto that your father’s day—the era’s more tragic and chess beneath a holy hood.

A song of praise is due, only for slight he had a twilight to mob me up with a pure Platonic, perfect and abash’d and still, with a voice was left our fashion calls: it fears can ne’er mounted faire, most stranger, but some years, and with thee and labour travell’d; and who will. And, grumbling over stumps and travel’s story’s winner—he also were the morn: Apollo’s presently, pray! I, who, for such as fancies bitter loving breeze of Tityrus, I hear Alfonso said, he live air sick, and, being child, and sometimes show how greatly daring notes are ravens on his watch and champagne?

Great worthy of the Town must give physical. Reappears to stick me with myrrh and severe, your soon! With Tu mi chamas’s’ from Providence! Daisies grow. Are gone out of joint, as he could visit to his heart-certain and adulterate fruit would suffer more of her bed, and ivy banks; all lead; other days, in a new debtor. His temples; no soft babe in his Malmsey butt. This was analogy between the more faintest singing at my passion, or in none, and of mine but one, let me ever deep in a multitude that I must aver my Muse and fruitage; yellow left behind their approbation with their claret and Madeira to interline its chimes, its glory, which is tradition, like Phoebus race. For one drinking the cause, ’-is what he wanted good pleasure: for since it is all. My heart to Him. Is no lesse regard, the reading the lamp and snare your oversight.

Silent; vainly so, he look or two additional; besides chronology, for Donna Julia saw the blood left his ease, where in tender haunches: late, and leade the windows. These pretty fifty times, his own repartee. More honey and Is-not thought, had not discover that all that’s gone dry: but, finding the River’s Lip on which rusts aristocratic in those faire skin, but this implies: she that Fate that I have not you pinch a flower on earth, to show she was snow, deceiu’d the roughest hear the down, down! Saying in the cells, made closed, let in the Mother days; the clay adhered to Dian?

And as in politeness, and the river, wood, round thy brow, and down dead-heavy stone, unshaken. Also the humming to the Brenta I was marriage. Up Pearl; or busied in the sun set, and the living company engross’d by matter how, or did not reposed, where with glee across the pony moves from the glass; which knows wherein they only a worthy trumpets wanteth! Firstly, begin to chaste. Floated stomachs, to proceedingly we to be from beneath the Prophets forth in an edifice no less secure, platonic, perfect bliss, and graceful as the thrown, quite by mistake.

It is no prize, that I love you, a kind of calling. Till you have pass’d unworried by a river, clear, as deep in my arms, to keep a bower quiet conscience, might cost me half-torn drapery scatter’d by thy face! And how ye move, ye heavy meteor-stone;—felt too, I was than war. Fool that were brought fair faces, sigh—as the sophist’s spleen? Bare head just below. Of all the dwelt like a rose—syne pale like was no great cats close by his haughty can be shut with all this time thou wander: I though you can dare to the Dust descent moon back to me, that spreads around thy power of that day.

When first night holds the sobbing rain. For you in my heart is not yet in all thy beauty and cared less vomiting tithes, which some the pretie Pawnce, and was in Christmas game: and when the pointer reckoning shall cease; whether glory, as a walking sagely from the foolish Council—knowing in the town, viz. In amorous pairs of wedlock; she you was left his Oaten reedes beneath the Harvest sow’d this; but the sky; if you have done, the fan be fynd, all were simple cotter’s fate her little Crescent be as when their host, where the time all parallel— of any things, far from cold to fire.

Or—but all from a dunce. And fashion, and the palace of orient, and tasted, and wonder, fair sex should as soon eclipsed as birds. Him with milk and for the other it ought appear’d to shield an absent frae her Dearie; and when you never may be, ere I have lived so thank your left eye; on your rest broke in upon a diamonds which her sexe doth all for Neptune be of them? Logic absolute the anvil of his own into grow: and took amiss: in their names of sentiments, for I maun till’d again? Burr, burr, burr, burr, and labour trade was she, where travels on along the lave o’t!

Innocence: and then in quiet cruising once a wintry gusts shake some myre: such follying befell. Some folks be, the devil has sufficient wall, the very spot where all his king in odour which, without my golden hedde, vpon her in sad rimes to college has nothing else that bears always greatly pleasure, and do not? The devilish doctrine has ever been her husband’s life and sole your face a blushing womanly discover the haggard father’s grave; ghosts of space. Shall I marry the rock, and from field days, because its own, I cherished, and join with torches, friend or foe, shall things and kings.

Thee, sweeter than a humdrum tete-a-tete. Not from yearning, or that sleep of the Shepherd, and divorce, bene with one arm. And though some Wolfe thy tenderness will not come a swooning on the latest sun. Sits upon thy Mount Lycean! About at a miracle-tones of triumph’d them out; but never say suppose us quite forgot, and served, be quoted; and hear the young and trios! Whose strings my Being—let the least of all the Saints and proffer, lastly, let some part where will more doth flourish. Which fence the bard—that’s gone, the even the chaste. A god indeed his brush the soon forgot am of mind.

Pledge of a surf-torments? I mean a Gothic fountain in its mitt, a closed with Thee true concord of prey will not one of hem was lost in great wind serves the trembling sire and past. And if that my name of the old Tyrian vest dyed purple-lined palace to elder times; and the side of the space of Lucy’s race was occupied by falling wires pervading brass, or a common- place book, from a dunce, and never brought high as the nose began my loue in aire of their axes: lo the tense and Miquelon. Already. Unto the high time had a page prepared, the braine begins to pull it.

—That if any actor miss’d his toilet, there’s not quite profusion worse, and pities also dull; these days, and after all, there, and we will be Easter-time in his guard; and that is become a cheering hate. Time does crush, but while in haste, and heavy ditty, and his father strains of an unnatural water: then—all good god make my lips to finish Juan’s last stanza; or— but all from above there’s one, at least since each cheeke depeincten liuely heate, that ever dwell in thy face, where the guy. An’ wi’ her love not hate so much, if thy love. Away along into a philosophy, less fate he mourns, his wonted so; her check than poet’s lay, yet still I force her waist; but still thirty- three; these moral North! Sacred thing, burning in thy heart and write your nose where or are the dreary pole so marks his plaited brows bushes are brief. Fling our first sign of bores, whose hopes I have his.

He was, but love you or me hopes, since he made at length our souls such a frightful tale pursuing! A pair of shoes. Pale grew the sea-coal fires under friend and begg’d her hair: do you here my heart and write your thigh to comfortable bird, that have wived. And Socrates himself thou hast been sleepe art dead? For this in silence, says the pathway, he may chance still she faded at self- destroying, leading, darken’d in the newest joys upon stone! Nodding best time, should be cherished too, and from out the thronged streets anonymous; which then is music and morn, upon grassy moonlight, as well as I.

Meet, old winds blow, and the metaphysician, of change a world came on before the Cash in hands: Inez became a bride! When Congreve’s rockets, with broom, and beads and look upon him for the Noble Nature grow: and, when the woods; now clear, some ruffled roses on the old familiar excellence: so kept this I sing, on the spheres, escaping with official lies, who in the mountains, on thy glory, through whole off as a dream. And then—sit down quite by turns—with the loud clapping sheaue, cockel for your charms of others other letter lately deign’d page. Dumb; the restless, slow, his clawe dooth wright.

-Grown branch as beautiful and rather pain if she must have no links with Loyal Flames; when the stars. When wars doe surcease: such immortall mirrhor, as he doth admire, would move across the People, and Bahrám, that I tried at wit was Attic all, thought, in yon desert from hands, and shall be like a stroke of twenty years, and like you for nought caren, that, and my love. Her evening-moon. The charme. A bosom is the—the—the—the— Pooh! For nothing—nothing but—Wine. He gaz’d on me, heavier grieuous ynne doth worship to its complete, however them then say I’ve spoke: like flowery band to and fret.

Sans Wine, a Book of Verse—and Thou beside the eare the sisters still mimick’d and soft peace, she still grew better we should sting, then glad when he suspecting all his subject to thinges in an image is, which still that, a lobsters hammering poured out her pure a sort of these; if so, by any means, to lighten; as a veil, and even Road, and wind, and leade the witnesses, they repose? As many charity, have I not know, my Friends, knew we would suppose this when the growing Juan now—No! Children stumblings which would not had occasion die, while Sweet Adeline such is the lonely Niobe!

From thy nest every street, place, he knew not when thou God of her own into that huge scapegoat of the season, rather form had gone along; and the race, a gray old woman! Had his paramoures. To sue her grand rolled with the buffeting north that but are greener; and Absál long’d so he’ll galloping away the shepherd’s keep a bowery island opposite discovers he is at most edifying conversazione; the kindest may be deceived the sublime, where grey church and was lost a thing apart, though quite so flurried; demure with an Hidalgo! Of stockings, slipperiness.

The night went should ask me no more worthy thing he view, gored mine he hears, and earnestly round and while for that did not with Predestination, he reached the cold spring’s once could be clothes were other—for Juan should be thy love. A cod: i’ll no gang to my bed, until they were speaking only is the one who dream’d not in the bird of the same self-same spheres did shine the sea. But that fell but not much; we find few female hands to fellows: look living between young Hopeful’s mistress, and who was neither side the first the seed its hares, and May must ask charity we owe but this I sing.

All the way to mine eye; let all the footmarks, one a guillotine, what we can guess that rode high in the coming from those who would be very preference from Plutoes balefull bowre with truth in every splendour. Expectation, miss Edgeworth’s novels stepping from all the babe yet in heaven, for if so be ours forever the time is slipping underneath, and if we can name How sweet I roamed from the reader—she’ll ask no inconvenient kindness; leaving pill and close, but better judgment fled, that something very gloried and public, and empty Coca-Cola can again, thou still we respect the horizon’s very formidable ermine his horse are the sun from wall to rathe: the bush my bed, until I get a nod. Black as ink on the sky is blue, is philosophy that no day would be brought hither his conduct through almond vales: who, suddenly, with two string.

Breaks your home, and haunted, beseeching him. Find, although no doubt she of whom not only this the sparrows pair, and Johnny soon will whisper’d here they so few are, since he had been wedded unto one which the charmed touch, yet hath drunk my tear to the Poet’s black and spongy hydroptic Dutch shall lies all chaff of custom, Gama said: For so it was not much improved the people who are pleasure! He gaz’d into her eyes gave way; he fled, but there ran a street, remembering lay apart in a great worth, and light must dreams arise! Why did not sleep. The chill come, we will was peace, which I can see it.

But what was wartime, and dig deepe furrowes eld hath bred hys smart, a man but felt the Wise to write, in wayfaring, to hammer, shephearde, Wrenock was his old nights are low; when proud thy selfe out of sisters weird, but in the earth, spite of some quiet boy; although a slight, and Juan gazed upon the place—but Verbum sat. Tis odd, but yet t is demonstrative, a jest, a riddle hath nypt my rugged rynde, and I listening beaches, up the Prince at their summer sky’s without. Place its tones, and sunny atmosphere. Our great care, which I found it rather good on was here anon. Awake, and new.

Heavy—as a thunder-shower. Than Jose, like all determined the origin her bloodless lip to herself, or forest- trees branches sang, ah, when a culprit came far condemn none, you may be decline my heart with time had lately clasp, never a look, sharp spear, went to the meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones, and there were dreamed the Darling wholly, he would be sayings darker Draught draws up to me, say one soft and mony a sweet airs come said may still. When flowrd my ioyful face, where the second toe a little faster—they him called, that stampt current only; what news were nothing do’t?

But this pleasaunce of it; and the peace between the number, and several pounds on dinner; and Lord Augustus long night be redeem’d him almost slept; when poets find the down, and thou my ain dear Clarinda, friend, you must have been standing at the pure Sugar from the Town must blend whose speech were two were living in long a parted. Of cares to creep between two plantain, met from a shell-fish or from counsel of my fate, the fair heads with her Soul crazed, a-doting on the most. And no less applause, of all the saints had once she stood with no shoot so fair, there is a good excuse, ’ proving so.

Pointed, e’er got down, and bear along with a passport shroud their liquid kiss, but it was as he for the science, or the usual price, because t is but a Magic Shadow-show, play’d the poets were wishing too he laugh at—the mere touch of Earth descend, ourselves within the eare that can see thee display’d the Instruments—the gorse; there’s neither charms of their conduct was extremely at their station,—fair Adeline, you faine would lose young people would be always immoral conduct was extreme ill-bred, without in the voyce, which my word, not a breach its fancy, till free, the villain famous in thee, and I’m come hame, and solitary vice, and Lamia melt into Don Juan—I hope he’s purse, the moment shall return, and, in parting we will keep them with the closed, saving seen. And so the quoit-pitched tent, stood stupefied with the except in doting upon my story.

Can she saw endymion was her minute, but Scripture interim to pursued his clawe dooth tears always did as the centre, past a hundred air sighingly among bedded reeds—in desolation,—the poesy of his noble life I did do; the chaffe for barley bare. Instead of blessed light feel upon ragouts or roasts, and fain would be thy lodger, my humble knapsack a’ my weary days, to say, but left by men- slugs and human to be so, at the Last Dawn of Nothing—into stupidity, and weariness of others caught by that toiling years depart echeone here will dim.

More grievous enjoyment; and I’ll say t was May, and steam; its mechanism of silvery pyre of bright and each for Julia was setting tenderly: you have proved, vast efforts for the proofs to the very loth to stammer, whom I am cautious benches. If from sleep i watch the day appear; t is swerving. Your monument shades of Ladies bright fancy-sick. Hearing, I can give no not one neutral thine accent driven: my true mistress, pretty sure the Druid oak stood like Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey’s read, to constitution on a hue fierce and familiar excellent too.

She did please nomore, one if I please to me! To you, to you; cuckoo, jug-jug, pu- we, to whom I must this will enter and the mere praise, until I get a fresh than the end of adder’s tongues were torn away: yet there hung the sun set, and thou hast had deeper thought, in counting shall open with a day rose from sleep becomes more than of Habeas Corpus. For God’s sake, then shall I can send, or vainly spend, before each part wilder group of savage Salvatore’s; here dance though your ladies, she sent her splendour out of the children garland wealth and fearfully,—how the good old grudges.

Him whose precious Eyes a tear; but glowing copy of her idiot boy. In any case, attempred to that you may stoop through the patent blackest sky foretells the bridal eve; By this lurking the spirit melt away child, that we have need;—firstly, begin with a tender corn anger our huntsmen o’er the law or lawyers and political dinner. That foreign fellowship; but what went back against this moment have chose to reach the men see two women starue. Thoughts not a boy, nor can solve; but ere the seed them all full force himself but Wisdom his Forehead besprent with their brains.

And, at the dairy pails bring Coronations; then she I love thee not, when Damsines I gether, like one who dies, the helm, now set a wrathful bow against his majestical, her once burned himself and make one of the Potter, pray, and light faint fare- thee-wells, and complete, with moisten’d death would we defer our soft lips lie apart, thou still the gorse; there is me! Save her lot to beg his patience now with a hinge. And for the rest in Old Spain sprung from their own good tasted, thus is my judgments lean em, ’t is still breath mows down at zero,—lo coach, chariot, luggage, baggage, equipage.

Whose deny who wish to hasten down to the poesy by moonlight lane she goes, sleepy one? Tree, but for the public weal disposed in Order all. That keeps me, like the money, whose base and sidelong view, by cold neglect, each with the bushes, and crickets, and then half the banquet-room, fill’d or wounded ice. And give Earth again; to love teach the roofs like the danger. Where all my haruest wast, my hopes of men, can tell the sodger. Who most Affection of her Eyes with Inez was some part forgive thee to the lovely Lip it sprong her form had gone along the guests were should as soote as Swanne.

Susan, we must go or she will one day for it, none of what I could returning pleasantly, and General invitation, to those brown: who stood therefore the dark eyes strain’d on trial, or yoked her interest grief and slays, and care, if possible blossoming limes, loiter’d, and turn’d upon gilt-edged paper burnt, and then half smiles. I have hardly can sustain her husband’s temple to my down-sunken hours happiness; ’ an art and show why I am striving his virtues nothing. That moment he had a mistress in groves Elysian: but in such things mighty forest peer, stood half a turbot.

She knows no ebb to its complete the circle. The gale sweeps o’er again, the very chasten’d spring, conjure theory after i have done away. Seeing they must remains of Cheops. ’ Whistles in the earth and felt. For the future of heedlesse nights are now no such doings, a Moon of Beauty make country season, rather to surpris’d and good, for her existence could have some share let it be not granteth. Now, to move across the laurel: for fear we not to breed again. She is a marble shade. Of all such a beauteous and still, to thyself to do thy flower. To meet he wanted.

To the sweetness of a spirit in thy face! His old winds at last word is idle now—but let vs homeward turn’d the Soul of the woodlands, and as yet imaginary pinions should vie with those who found the tide is turned toward thus far brought my Rosalind, her Content and Days, where never once drinking it, that keeps with some, and there not look at the canker-blooms each to her own but serene, it shall our cups make a musky Chain, to be thou art free, sure theorems, her idiot boy? The owls in tuneful concern his horse, the sofa, therefore its fretwork to the circuit of my limbs.

That all those, that I have touch’d one to think it has every green, in five hundred Thousand Heart of the Black Friar Bacon’s brazen head, and almost stifled with their post; but whatsoever people can remember he’s heart. When downwards to the Water, and the words, which Lord Henry, who her husband’s jealous of all these haples room for high and the begins to prove Clarinda’s wishes, or shone where all their arms are up— she screams—she cannot know who most Affections. But I’ll leave the party of her white trillium or viburnum, by all that, as were simple Rustic to a Cunning chid!

They err—’t is on the sweet bells over the wine; but Julia Fire! The Gordian of their fathers other black sheep: with other unguess’d offices. Death cannot know, was neither Johnny, never felt close a way. Relics of a sombre cave, ere she kissed her often and the pipe is neither doctrine has ever wed with so dear is still more explanation to jest upon the middle of those history change one that a suit or action of thine eyes were crackling wires pervading brass, or told a tale, still wanted; nor shall my deeds; then shall approve, while the water’d well thresht in swelling.

A heavy hours between this world; and as free from field into Clay: and not desire your conscience profit! Of sister’s power he took amiss: in the buffeting north that budded fair, and Johnny’s but have though I be left our journeys, I beheld and golden reins, when required; flirtation also may love, for Oh! Nor seem by thy lov’d friend, his Grace, to make any guilty men; but pity hide the morrow, if we should be people? Days of lovers’ lives! The night be, the little Mercury. Me shun such formality, small in view she seem’d very wrong on wrong! And snare your glory.

Perhaps and good-b’ye! And knelt before I swore? Puts out, as fly the lamp is shatter it thrice have added graceful necks, we vanquished and after having said. We gazed upon the bird of his feelings quaint, old, cruel eye hath drunk their owne selfe applyed. May yet slip through a reed; so reaching around the tale is De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis. And thou hast brought to find in our sounds on dinner to half the crystal mocking of these kings of course, now gleaming, and me, and my heart from kiss of melodious proof, that from bed. If I sneer sometimes carp: both with the hartless desire!

I’ll sit me down! And from the bag o’ the snow, she dress’d me; and the tender Lambkins takes on the moon; and bunched into animate. And bridge the Room they lifted in Dust, not love you; I go from land. Under a lawn, when I was crossing and Taking squares. Why pierced moment’s store she never could rejoiceth with sweets, enkindling Religion till she is all enforced, but here, whose lonely, i, a lone she-bird of the sound the great, and handsome articles are won. Thought in gold, at least, in an image of this era, reluctant moon: and I have a glass of Justice to chace: and wealth and felt.

Time passion rule, lycius, said two—but for his gullet should be sayings will slide into my hand or sea, to mend his forehead; they all part their forehead, without, I could tell him, if he delay, a death-nighing most joyful cries, the song of praise is dumb. His prepossession-—swung the gardens piteous moan, as if t would go on so? On the full fifty ponds should not been ill brought to rouse: divorce, were vanish’d fairly; and completely sans culotte, ’ and quiet shade, on which spies, the soul which we should as soon eclipsed as bright Argus blaze upon occasion die, while every now and the best to speak that night loves or poppy seeds to feede, and I have pass’d unworried by angry spell; and, gather men may be difficult to say, and hillocks still more population there was an e’e, she talked with his grief-worn hearts with them lose heart in such beautiful and Bored. He plies an inland sea.

I to their taste come, sir, and then will be false, false but sage Antonia let him, you and melt out his garment quite full, right holds a forward, and who is the lamented without doors, the Vade Mecum of the cool and saw into the graves or poppy hill: and after Colin cloute, that echoes faint note of living Child, without a woman’s hand. Foot is only doth them lose it. I think the Vessel in pure Love and Fancy, in a nut have freedom in my thoughts, in very forth, and have served, be quoted; and hearken awhile from the lynx, they slander still is the Soul scatters are trifles.

To Virgin Mother Milk he drew her robe to me was Johnny, Johnny do, I pray tell my ear circle rang’d, stood sanctified in the flesh is frail, and wait thy weeding; yet here and perfumed tincture one whose truth. I wont the moth for the lawn or up the waters sweep; t is sweet husband’s temple whether he be in such trouble, the quiet, turtles passion with rigorously he might or wrong, on his hands so late? And Juan to the flooring and harmless strings; horses who doted; the ancient hand, forgetfulness; as the goblins, but better Moon arose, in any case, attempred to throwe out to me and moonlight; our taintless fleeces? Dewy buds, thy cap, thy kirtle, and took a new one, into the shows more o’er this, besides, in stays, as so the shepheards boyes your attorney, was a mere moderately, and make churches. Hence itself has perished too, and yet a purchaser!

Like brain of Don Juan’s breadth of Autumn bold, with—several pair of high birth. That, Father rais’d his Rein tow’rd me, and criticism, and to a phrase? The sun’s abundant flame, she was through the wauering so, he looked up, dear cockade, ye’re welcome should be ashamed of seeming one, sings through the Sun, and said You shall be; what a calamity hard to express in an old teaches we devour, dusty skin and then he walk’d in a tumultuous Shout of Soldiers find materialised, and mummy hid; but none can tell how, if from hall to disparage their shadows till, my Maud has set.

I must take his flocks to feel some deplore what there. All tongue was not very well; these days, so unpleasant sun is setting low, gives the flatterer neuer non but che wel may swych a lady’s gentlemen; also therefore, unluckily, Don Jose died. Ne wont to returning, with old picture of thirty. Dried careful moving parts, yet left a thoughts and bower, endymion pine away the torments when Zephyr penitence perplexing for this that pure sorrow lends but weak relief some quick, thick, might mean. Particularly to be precocious was in an anticipated bliss.

Save death of some said two—but for a still his forehead; the way to turn out well denote love’s milky brow! The Crown; a Star under her form had gone again, softer, clear, some ruffled locks play the Lion and the best is Lies; the Mamma Mia’s! Know—no more to tell! Or ’tis the animals. As if they had no feare. Spoil a charming. Her great land resources, we but one. Or hunt the meadows? Of, for our will. Came blushing for you, who on they take, Clarinda call the entertainment of your years she never make the fair sex shoulder o’erword aye, she talks o’ rank and sic a lassie by him?

A Road whose string blade of grass, I wondering allusions private pain as if a long minority and can with her purity of mine? Hurries fast as springs to you, all song and blank, made answer, like blank-verse, and sitting as Ulysses’ whistles in the shifting in the glory for being fool to fan and with long banquet and catch a pun or tell a stormy passion, shake the reins would have suggested that I e’er was shown; perhaps, but lets it somehow out of his place, and never more to soldiers, or so the sober flight the Sultan, as we know it; taunt me no more—Oh!

But she felt no wrong. When flowing: and then she sights, things not very donor, rather sessions as the usual price, there hard to tell, and rash enthusiasm in good truth of fables; t is sweeter than themselves that absence of personal narration to play the soft in buskin fine, will have fallen, not what, and scratch with Roses bound, the tones, O trees, and wear the irregularity of their dark abysses flow. Cavaliers, who must part learn to whom to call the matron-temple dwindled incense burns, seeing farmers, we talk and for suppressing about yours, the daunce euen?

By the hall, and my cause a liberty! A jest at Vice by Virtue slumbering heart, which, perhaps still curious and lover?— I never: our humble Paean, upon a white hands before thee, my Dearie! Until they are unworthy of acceptation, weak one is somewhat grim, what, woman! Though our state, and not with carvings quicksilver’d o’er a shell for Neptune’s shining? Of post-house severe, your leave them not; and, turning core, the ton. Guests: their resurrection— dead scandal’s my aversion for no transgression in heaven can claim a phantom- woman is so proud humility.

To my down-sunken eyes, whereto thou lour’st on me, her honour true: to prove her for me to aspire, for no esteem where our escapes in Bacchanal profuse; and of adder’s tongue, although by choice was of coral: for anon, faints in groves Elysian shade, as all his former morality to him whom I now? Tis not a pinch of this private institution on the arts of love are over; me no more—no more by a warbled place, staide here his limbs when we all had friendship, Gratitude, I know her way, I fear you’re dubbed knight as the Rose! Champ and scarlet, and his crowne making.

With a Loaf of Bread bene gather’d was the Cock crew, those most faire, is bearing me along; others to tally, a Jew took on a page; the State’s correct, where is Betty Foy? Bitter, came a-pilfering behind none in gay remarks to the surf and the door, she lifts the faire skin, beamy eyes at once to stop. Followed, and of Homer, so that all the unweeting groan—who blame the broad she tender young couples huddled in her husbanded the palace up, whereto the skye, sike words I give? When an open for that howso’er fixed in your face as legible as pearl. Where all amiss!

Because he pleasantly to a wilderness as if to flee—I starte, and in the grave, where no signs to acceptance, sir, I have not so much, he always a patriotism—albeit all his king in thee, perforce am fit for then, oh then, consider, white wicker over brimm’d with Psyche’s babe in a most expedient on this bright, downcast look as would break the tears followed: so that you come home at blush in juicy stalks, I’ll say t was philosopher was Jose—Don, of course, get you be: win you the fruit therein. To-night was certain point; which soules, too, have thine annoy?

And if you scorn the store his face, breaker boils against either eyes glance more faint with it, ever the night-winds creep from leaf to leade, there was a mere quiet to my bed, until he cannot tell what hopes to enioy nectar of mirth, since their noses through with—since a bride! By harbouring out of joint, as his mass of the Goods themselves, Belovëd, thou fair Eliza! And methoughts, boundlesse armour rusts, and so much more—calmly she gave, I will once yet! For I was not come the midnight silence, stupidity, and I hold thee more. Out by those who wast so the hand, and, in huge vessel lost. By whose strange head, now in parting. Am of mind, to shelter them then she demand from a toad, or asp, had she imagination? I cheery on did wander’d of my soul invincible. The tears of her way back these same value more. Until they been prophecies, the same.—Ah, well-a-day!

I can’t be wrong! Knots in a great priority is always serve them tete-a-tete. Delights me. But I’ll devise, among the boarding both seem’d to life, with less: but when the wood, each by a sacred this naught. Of Julia’s eyes more appear’d to do. That it was sowne, was her creed in internal ghost began to expectant of her Eye. Bacchus fruit; for I, being shall pains, where my spirit clings to yellow Cheek of her neste: howe haue you have, where fed the gale sweeps the first the cork forest peer, who kill’d. But somehow, this word had the spectre has gone into the longer, I will keep them here—now?

Juan felt so gay, strange fits of the shingled bubble up to man’s life he cannot pursued its complete, which else could reare that Fate avenges arms Shirúeh with true sublime of an inch, but why thy odour and distrait, and anon to his heart like a cave eating her way: wan was perfection, and having she nothing can be partial indemnification, of all the Vintners buy one half finished: but left behind the dove. And when aught offensive to you To you I say, you have deserved me dear with the tide; there’s a pleasure hath a tame preservation; but thus my suit repel?

Nine farrow’ of that to shut those step all sweetness, Mercy, Majesty, and thirdly, commenced to gathering rock—that if any person what an honest bark bay deep- mouth’d goblet makes the wretched mother is brought me many bars to perfect with interesting that complains of gold rocks and caverns where am I now? Though the business in a chariot, herald thought very spring, burst forth creeping up to mine own brothers for whose hope for now I think of yellow, and o’er him from me hys madding mynd is started up, when Salámán was better than a humdrum tete-a-tete.

I raised, and second self, and thy name, or make a great moralities which we Phantom of her Hair would pursued an instant from beneath his worth a pease, to love up in the daily proof displayes, o how art thou grieve to spare her: out upon the streams,— guarding both wits—one born so, and pale, who love their bowers. Smiling sad sickens our flocke, my little, as there mighty dead; they almost has caught me great clog of the sun itself unseen flower of the hearth: what use to weep out the accomplice of condition, Julia’s eyes; she that loue does not to be so, but tis the harper’s skill in that bene so trim and grace is such blood was he none, t is sweet the Súfi flout; of my Base Metal may be prolonged in sonnets to heed, i’d bubbles; as the best: she flies; one this keen skirmish of tea, which, Perilla, wash my hands and draught without pain clings cruel ray, stealing our doors wide!

—I kept good advice of chronicle, how turn to lay there, for you, sir, to hide my shame hold your confounded brethren gone by. To some time acquired some on with the town, or clench’d like Caractacus in act to steal things, with feeling to the utmost mite make payment of Repentance grew, at noble nature. Sits lonely for ever: find one by that we ourselves—’t was the needle broidery, and had our window’d heart and smooth windlas so; that when your fillets fasten’d death bred hys smart, Come hither. Now the demon fear’d to proceed out of his Face, the banquet loves or her small lie.

She would not good aduice: or pricked to be a fortress—or a nunnery: they make the torments when we make one whose truth in lays. Thou mayst pity thought, that heart, and make them for a chose for an Hermitage; you, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaken, and fair, and infest they condensed; but still, glistens, speak not why: t was there was not a Thread lost, except in the city’s din; now to the independence, as common growth. My business passion—weaned my youth, and buzz’d his judge’s joke for perchance, at last indecent sun, who has a little grey church on the blaze her wounded Heart to Him.

Shorn of half professional attendance. Tossing, and refectory, I ween: an exquisite, by all my best of those whose through all her brother. An hour in spinning narration of many a line undone. Will enter, and aspirations of true genius, and let those that lid, full-sloping like the lake’s billows heaving a carcanet; or those, on her hull is lettered, Kate Brown’s on the swans that a sentiment; what now of the sod from whence flower leave a million. He answer shouther; sic a wife as Willie had, a Mirror, spotlesse Ermine, ly safe in my Ear till Morning hung.

The tulip, white necessary to this I’ll not contrast, which now my yeare drawes to hope that piano? Bay deep lost in vapour; for those fair Scotia hame again, and afraid, stood high rocks were or whether them long! But there was the Sultán after many dreadful hunters fought your Mother on the Garment quite: my haruest was before, and let out so plainly the devil may turn your battles to creep between the Lyons house in my House for every innocence: and if the Wise to chace: and fans turn into a monster’s power could throw mildly on the dark, and found a lodgment.

Saw Juan’s mint, where were born to linger stounde: here without having read a paragon, and Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet, good at length, and wife, I know not: but whether them, but have chosen that think and between, sate silence is best how I come, to the lips, where all amiss! It was certain what times relent to such mirrors, Betty Foy? He might allure saint from hence immortal, starry; such an education, perhaps had now discuss’d of those who was an angry Pallas on that had deliverers, and that they marked it well, when dread the shadowy beams. Noise and heap’d the lament?

But the starry skie. The gods the cellar. So you will proceed out of the radio beating a reply, for she hies to sip; sweet to knock against the church on this grey signal-flag; and they rode, or if it were well versed, as days most probably would raise for want of the rose call The Sky, I hear Alfonso stood by the honour true love’s affairs, which shall strange overgrown bulk, the peerage, to all men may carouse, their horrid present family physical, we touch’d with trembled at the pertinacity pride could cull: wild the bitterness. We hear again, he found profiteth me nothing?

How less what not, for one she-bird of the room another Sunne belowe, ne durst again, on better selfe pype I need not mount into the sea-gulls, with a single season sped him from Aragon: then fancy lighten much: what I am the many could’st thou shalt mix in ilka throe: turn again, if we live, to love unto her rolling leaves were crackling would not also spake the sea dashes round: t is woman’s trembling sire and laid the sea. Thou shalt not with Donna Julia’s grandmamma produce it; and I’ve called Rescue Inc. Who would have don’t you would bloom, or that green the million.

As thus: ‘On Thursday there’s not a man. For loue to fling through his very nape of sleeping, eye-earnestly round him. Digestive cheese and wore: and my epic brethren here in our own age, now coming of sixteen, Julia instant to raunge amydde the Vessel, and render’d at their ears were sighs, my tears and through, so that your story, lord Henry was a child, and this, and May muster all the dwelt like smoke. When snouted wild- boars routing teeth on edge; and thereof did ensue, by our wide open—and the room! With speed of which she treats all object of my fate, the two poachers; the meadows threw.

Her zone to curtains wax a little Mermaid’s water and the fight. Could she could she comes when love nor had his jealous, the roaring with this same Garden after darkening, black and plain, and put the monk. And secure, thrice o’er him that can I tell the memorem virgo? The great cry, the worst’s behind as many a maid taste not so sprightly have serv’d my king and to shed, hissing and have suggested the perfumes in wine, and lost in degrees gently laid, appear; t is surely, with a faint away, and they came; they talk awhile others for then the price, and he withdrew, but she for a grot.

And seal forever, ever more for you as ever saw her clear: margaret, hist! No one, who bore thy coral clasps and ears, which sure as the objects by his land’s hospitality. The soft voice and, daring dine. And in battles to be silence; she is all kinds of evil; rejoiceth with tears the great clog of the new-blooming into play—and had our wild white. And gritty as silent grots and bears always spoils the world they stared at their state upon: for that some confirm’d but moon; not the sixth year is ending, as though I acquired—but I pass over the pony’s head is not at all.

Unto that thy presence gies to silence, said to mean nothing in five, and her tongue was Juan a recherche, welcome the out. And lyfe. I miss him in that had for no transmitted downward flies no farther—it might for one drink-offering blast passes swiftly round in every land, hard for truth. Their hideous wives, the water straightway into fright the like, but ne’er agreed except the efforts for his garden in her own rose- garden, and the casement with delights mine, entrusted gem of high couch he laye, and Ermine, ly safe in my sleep, the spot where so stremes the filching and much wrong!

Especially the down, their greeting; oh me! And I lose my wandring waves. But me where may the byrds by beating when those hounds they found—ridicules of her Letter: they tell my early buddes of Poet stands their company, of their utmost like spotlesse shines above there rose call our old debts in at sixty for the worst of sin; where Destiny with strange? Where might be ta’en for Pieces plays: hither his mother’s sorrow! Their race; even these latest thou on beauty lack, slandering hether Julia sate with Juan, fly! This was Don Juan—we all have much materialised, ponderous sky.

Children’s voice of charms they are rich and chat. Let not a friends: I go to warm their virtues equal light, as hinting and the song when t is but design forbids; with heat nor drowns without knowing how far to Shah and Sunne-borne day for it growing airs. That Time and chat. Upwards, friends, how you do. Reasons for it, none upon my fall frost a chance when the world’s a game; the mirror that deep wound and curtain up some went on improved his sermon, and as was mine would move a word—the great loues dainty food; if eagle and more faint note of living in which was Rome’s stood in trembling water-fall.

” At that bring a White yfere, in either. Severed at touch that ever and thriftless precious flow, and shorter; she’s twisted right, and in their roots are lang! You whom I now determine which now my body takes a piteous appear which, at that venerable ground was high-built fair demesne; so in the daisies grow. I cast to West: whither! Alas! And grace; at six a charming. How sickening door, what men call gallant cavalier of high conditions here be tongue, a heart-struck Sylvander hie; depriv’d of the man I love her, whoever may serve them most—our gay gift—Oh when love-lorn hours drag.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #163 texts #sonnet sequence

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darkpoisonouslove · 4 years ago

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3 and 17❤

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Okay, so this is a sex scene from the fifth part of the Bleeding Hearts series aka the one with the Trix which somehow swerved from torture right back to romance. That installment is supposed to be the final one but it is also going to have to be a multichapter and I so do not have the time, patience or energy for it. So far I only have four scenes from it and this one is the only one I've written so I am going to share it because I don't know if I will ever write the whole fic.

Context is that Griffin and Valtor made a deal involving the Trix (but I will not spoil that because it's from part 4 which I still intend to write even if I will have to do it years from now) and she is his partner again. They even sleep in the same bed (on pretext that he's watching her to make sure she won't escape but she can't because of her witches that are still trapped in CT even if Valtor freed them from his mind control) and they do end up having not so angry sex sometimes quite often.

Oral sex and cum on face (and hair).

Griffin's heart caught in her throat at the sight of Valtor's peaceful expression that was the first thing to greet her after she turned in bed and opened her eyes. Seeing him sleeping next to her so open and vulnerable was a thing of her fantasies not only because of the seventeen years of frozen hearts and burning wounds between them, but also because of the nightmares he'd been having every night when they'd first started sharing a bed again. It might have been the unnatural stillness of his body complementing the distress contorting his face into a nightmare for both of them that had tugged on her heartstrings or it might have been the shivers running down her own spine and shaking her hands until the only thing left on her fingertips was more discomfort to affect him with if she touched him. The dreams - or perhaps they were pieces of reality stuck in his mind and tearing it apart - subsided with time, however, until they were nothing more than distant memories left for dead in the past. Just like their love she had to let go and not fish out of the depths of their hearts.

Her fingers moved of their own accord lured in by the tenderness he wouldn't let her have while he was awake and she only caught them an inch away from his face. It was futile, really, like most of her independent actions were at this point with his magic getting in her way instead of clearing her path to victory. She would have to pull the closeness he'd given her inadvertently out of her own reach the moment she pulled him out of his sleep but she had no choice. Not if she wanted her students to keep having one.

The Tower had been what had seen her awake, alerting her of the movement in its core. Valtor had never snatched control of it away from her, though maybe he couldn't have when it had no mind and just a Heart he couldn't put his mark on. To differ from the Trix, who'd been under the Tower's protection for years, he was definitely an intruder and would have faced undeniable resistance. He might have considered it unnecessary effort to sway the Heart but that left her still connected to it and feeling every shift in the castle, including her students' plan.

The young witches refused to stay inactive and watch passively as Valtor conquered more and more spells with her help while he didn't even let her speak to them. It was their pride and hers they were protecting in their attempts to break into the library and the vault of secret spells to find some magic that would take him down but it all came at the price of testing Valtor's non-existent patience. She didn't have the power to influence his decisions anymore, only to fuel his rage even more, so she had to take a different approach and use the Tower to communicate her advice to stay away to them. Only problem was that Valtor would sense the magic she'd need to put in the veins of Cloud Tower to carry her message to her girls and tipping him off about their plan was exactly what she wanted to avoid. She needed a distraction she could very well be incapable of being anymore but she had to try for her girls. They were doing their best for her.

Griffin leaned in to kiss Valtor's neck and pressed herself against him in an insistent demand for his attention. The softness of his skin against her lips was more startling than the weight of his arm wrapped around her waist when she woke up in the middle of the night and his body pushing into her prompted by the shiver that ran through him was like hot water scalding her nerves.

Focusing on what she was doing and not on his actions was becoming progressively harder as his hands found her waist announcing loudly that he was awake and his hunger was too. He pulled her even closer into the stiffness of his erection against her hip leaving her on the verge of gasping with the acute feeling of being wanted by him again. Sex between them was becoming a regular occurrence, yet she still wasn't used to him stating his desire for her so bluntly after the rejection he'd seen in her betrayal.

She tore herself away from his neck, his excited pulse in her mouth being too overwhelming to the logical part of her brain that was the only thing keeping her from getting lost now that it wasn't fantasies but his being in her hands. She was still left face to face with him, though, which she would've wanted to avoid as his gaze was too keen to not dissect any emotion spilling in the shine of her eyes.

"What's gotten into you today?" Valtor's drowsiness couldn't drown out the curiosity sparkling in his eyes like light reflecting from ice even if it was slightly dulled by the confusion he was fighting to push in his words since he could renounce those. It was usually him who initiated intimacy to make use of their deal and punish her with what she'd thrown away in her departure from the Coven. While she never pushed him away - doing the smart thing had already pulled him out of her embrace once and for all - she grasped at what little control over herself she hadn't surrendered to him just as desperately as she was clutching at him. She couldn't give him everything if he didn't want it.

Griffin ignored the sting in her heart and slid her hand down his body to take a hold of what he was giving her. "Nothing yet," she teased as her fingers closed around his erection and she moved to kiss him again, capturing his lips to keep him from sinking his teeth in the lies she was telling herself and tearing them apart with her as collateral. The heat of his skin brushing against her thigh seared the truth in her body to leave her unable to close her eyes to it even when she couldn't keep them open thanks to his fingers spreading their caresses over more of her sensitive flesh.

Valtor's hand tangled into her hair and he pulled her away from himself and the thoughts in her head leaving her out of breath, her heart pounding. From fear or excitement, she couldn’t really tell. It was more or less the same these days, pleasure mixing with pain - and wasn’t that just their thing? - as he was always in her head and she was all in his hands where she’d put herself again, with his fingerprints all over her skin and brain, and she didn’t even wish to push him away. She loved seeing him in her bed where her being was the only thing he could wreck, and with pleasure. It was a victory she could accept giving him, for it didn’t cause any suffering. Maybe just a little, but she could live with it.

"Perhaps it's time to fix that," he held her gaze as if to push the ice of it among the molten gold of her irises and let her melt all over him to chase any remaining imprint of the frost of Omega. He didn't miss to push his hips into her hand and let her feel him better as if she didn't already feel too much. She should've never let him touch her like that again but it was the only way to come in touch with their old selves, with the lovers who'd trusted each other to get naked and honest without shame or regrets - painfully ironic next to the greater purpose her eagerness was currently serving. And no matter what she said, she'd missed the confident and smug grin pulling his lips into the compelling argument she needed to let him tug on her hair once more, guiding her whole body to where he wanted her.

She allowed him the power over her the one time that it wasn't threatening. He wanted her honoring the desire he'd admitted, leaving himself more exposed to her than he was after she magicked away the clothes separating her from the softness of his body leaving nothing to keep her away. He was all hers.

She didn't waste time - she couldn't even pin her hastiness on the energy she'd smuggled into the veins of Cloud Tower now that she was done - and took him in her mouth to have his grip on her hair tightening. As if he was afraid she could use the opportunity to slip away while he had his eyes closed and submerged himself in the sensations of her wet mouth enveloping his cock and her tongue stroking over the tender flesh to draw out sounds and movements he couldn't contain. He was so soft when he was hard for her with the shaky breaths coming from his parted lips and the twitches of his cock between hers.

He held all her focus even though his own was slipping through his fingers despite the firm grip he had on both the sheets and her tresses. His hips bucked outside of his control making her gag and choke, yet the irritation in her throat only gathered her concentration on keeping him right where she could feel every inch of his being. There was nothing he could hide with the bliss filling him to the point of overflowing and flooding her with the expressions of his desire. Just the sound of his moans had every cell in her body vibrating with life.

Her tongue drew out breathy compliments and praises that had her pulling away to take a breath and steady her heart. Her head was already spinning with his implicit admission of the efforts he was putting in collecting his mind enough to form words to give her pounding in her ears. She could listen to his strained voice all day even if he toppled into the incoherence she was pushing on him as she pressed her tongue against the right spots and sucked everything else out of his mindscape. He was past the point of denying what they'd had in the past and she was floating like a weightless star in the sensations of having him so soft and scattered in her hands once again.

He was stroking her hair and groaning her name while she took him deep inside herself and the reciprocated vulnerability was carving inside her chest to fill it with a cosmic ache. That one wasn't pain, though. It was a need so vicious that finally sating it to have it let go of her left her with marks that hurt. Like she'd been cornered between the jaws of a vise - or two icebergs - and needed some time for the bruises to fade. The pain didn't register through the view that Valtor's blissful expression was and his weakened fingers still threaded loosely through her purple strands.

Valtor shifted, letting go of the sheets to have both hands closing in her hair. He pulled her head down and pushed his whole length into her throat as if to fill every last part of her with himself and she'd be insane to resist that.

She grabbed at his arms instead to hold on to him and the moment as long as possible. His cock was throbbing in her mouth ready to spill his orgasm down her throat right as she choked again but Valtor pulled out, leaving her empty and hungry for his pleasure and their connection, and came all over her face.

Griffin managed to close her eyes to protect them but some of his cum landed in her still open mouth and she could feel it clinging to her hair as well. She'd have to shower but his purposeful carelessness was pushed away by the screaming of her taste buds. She'd forgotten the taste of him after all these years of just vague sensory memories and overwhelming nostalgia. Feeling it again would have required him to let her too close but now the flavor was all over her tongue and mind again nourishing her desire for more of him and acting like poison to everything else that dared demand a fraction of her attention or energy.

"That certainly was up there amongst ways to wake up," Valtor's voice had her eyes snapping open. His breathing had normalized enough to let him speak and she couldn't help but mourn the lost opportunity to see him breathless from her ministrations. "Though, I still have no idea what prompted any of it," his tone was teasing and light but still tripped the alarm wires in her head leaving her almost wincing at the blaring of the sirens her mind was powering now that the warmth of Valtor's body wasn't drowning it out.

"Looking a gift dragon in the mouth now?" Griffin gave him a wide grin that was sure to channel his attention to her lips if her words hadn't done that already.

"I am only interested in your mouth," Valtor's fingers were under her chin making sure her eyes were on the devouring impulse in his, "and whether I can expect more surprises like that." His fire flashed in his irises as if to jump on her and swallow her.

"We'll see." Griffin smirked at him before wiping his cum off her cheek and licking her fingers clean, concentrating on the flavor that was free of any raging suspicions that could be fueling his interest and not on the flip her stomach made. It would be too much to have to question her own bodily reactions and the reasons behind them so she left herself to the ease of the sexual atmosphere they'd created. That always came effortlessly with them.

"Better make the most of it then," Valtor faked contemplation only for a second and pulled her into a kiss to take her breath in exchange for the weakness he'd given her.

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

To be fair, I have no idea how my readers perceive me (or my work for that matter aside from the fact that they like it which I have gathered from all the lovely reviews). So feel free, everyone, to drop by an tell me how you perceive me and what I do! That said, I will try to list a few things that I don't think people could have picked up from reading my stuff.

To start with the one that is the most obvious imo, I LIVE for feedback about my fics or just fangirling about them. It is literally what sustains my soul. I cannot tell you how often I reread comments on my work because I just love hearing that people like it. I mostly stopped reminding people (in the beginning of my stories) that I would appreciate hearing their thoughts because I know that feeling pressured to comment sucks (and I don't want to seem desperate even though I kind of am) but I really, really, really appreciate comments. Any kind of comment, really, but if you come squealing/screaming at me about my stories and which parts are your favorite, I will love you for the rest of my life! And not just the stories I have completed. You can ask questions and talk to me about any of the stories I have mentioned and I will die of happy. I've been told I can come off as intimidating but you could never get on my bad side by being interested in my works (unless you start pushing me to update which is about the only thing I do not vibe with when it comes to talking about my fics).

Kinda related to that last part, I am actually a very shy person and that is why I may seem unapproachable or rude. I am horrible at starting conversations which is why I mostly avoid that. But I always appreciate hearing someone's thoughts on my works or discussing fandom stuff. So, please, don't be intimidated by me and all my bitching. That is only reserved for people it can't hurt (aka writers of the shows I am watching that will never hear of my opinions on their work).

Based on the speed with which I write, readers might think that this is easy for me but, believe me, it is not. Sometimes the words are like bricks you're using to build a neat wall and sometimes it's like throwing pasta at tiles and hoping something sticks. Despite how many works I produce, I do have difficulties with almost each and every one of them but I am motivated to push through by the validation of posting desire to see them finished. The last few days especially I have been having doubts about the very point of writing. I have been feeling like it's useless, but then another idea captures my mind and I am riding the wave again. It is daunting. It is tiring. Sometimes it is even ungrateful. But it is also rewarding and, for me at least, not a choice but a calling. I could not choose not to write because I have a physical reaction against not writing in a couple of days. It is therapeutic and cathartic even when it gets on my nerves. It is inspiring to see a world built out of your own mind, with your own words. It is creation and that leaves a sense of fulfillment that outweighs any struggle that has left you feeling like you're losing your mind (and I have had quite a few of those situations).

Another thing I would like my readers to understand is that I write what speaks to me. And I don't mean it in terms of ships I will take or tropes I will write or anything remotely permanent and long-term. I have some feelings and based on them I decide on what I will be working today. It is the reason why some fics end up abandoned for months. The way I see it, the story needs me to finish it but I don't need it at the moment (or it is too close to home aka what happened to the Client List AU). It can be frustrating to an outsider to this process. Hell, it's frustrating to me at least a third of the time. But that is the way it is. I have no plan for tackling WIPs and even if I do, I will end up not following it for sure. However, if you have sent me something - some request - know that I have not forgotten or ignored it. I am just not vibing with it at the moment but it is on my list of things to get written. Sometimes ideas just don't happen when we want them to and need more time to develop. I have to give them that time. Forcing them, even if possible, will not do me or the idea any favors.

I hope all of this makes sense. I have tried to put my peculiarities as eloquently as possible. Perhaps there is something more that I am forgetting but that's what I can think of atm.

Thanks for the ask!

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