#[ zenos SHUT UP. go enjoy yourself >:c ]

[tenebriism]

@draikoeques ;; Cont. from here -

Never has he seen such BRIGHT shades of these colors in his entire life, and he swears that each new item Rothalion brings out is even more blinding than the last. " Like-minded... " He parrots the statement, almost as if he DOUBTS it, to some degree. " I find it hard to believe there won't be some pushback. "

' I'll be there. '

It's the only thing preventing him from backing out of this arrangement entirely. Being the son of a strict politician did not leave the path OPEN for many opportunities to be his true self, his family terribly outspoken in their disapproval of certain... lifestyles. Though not completely ' out ' yet, there had been signs, but mayhap Rothalion would serve as the push of courage he needed to stop sitting back and letting his family dictate how he carried himself.

" ... I'll be recognized. Picked out from the crowd. " More excuses, more attempts to drag this plan right back to the drawing board. " --- and I look ridiculous. Rainbows do not suit me. " But has he moved? No. Not even as Rothalion continues to fill his hair with blossoms of seemingly every color in existence.

[universitybookstore]

THE GRAVEYARD BY THE SEA

This quiet roof, where dove-sails saunter by, Between the pines, the tombs, throbs visibly. Impartial noon patterns the sea in flame -- That sea forever starting and re-starting. When thought has had its hour, oh how rewarding Are the long vistas of celestial calm! What grace of light, what pure toil goes to form The manifold diamond of the elusive foam! What peace I feel begotten at that source! When sunlight rests upon a profound sea, Time's air is sparkling, dream is certainty -- Pure artifice both of an eternal Cause. Sure treasure, simple shrine to intelligence, Palpable calm, visible reticence, Proud-lidded water, Eye wherein there wells Under a film of fire such depth of sleep -- O silence! . . . Mansion in my soul, you slope Of gold, roof of a myriad golden tiles. Temple of time, within a brief sigh bounded, To this rare height inured I climb, surrounded By the horizons of a sea-girt eye. And, like my supreme offering to the gods, That peaceful coruscation only breeds A loftier indifference on the sky. Even as a fruit's absorbed in the enjoying, Even as within the mouth its body dying Changes into delight through dissolution, So to my melted soul the heavens declare All bounds transfigured into a boundless air, And I breathe now my future's emanation. Beautiful heaven, true heaven, look how I change! After such arrogance, after so much strange Idleness -- strange, yet full of potency -- I am all open to these shining spaces; Over the homes of the dead my shadow passes, Ghosting along -- a ghost subduing me. My soul laid bare to your midsummer fire, O just, impartial light whom I admire, Whose arms are merciless, you have I stayed And give back, pure, to your original place. Look at yourself . . . But to give light implies No less a somber moiety of shade. Oh, for myself alone, mine, deep within At the heart's quick, the poem's fount, between The void and its pure issue, I beseech The intimations of my secret power. O bitter, dark, and echoing reservoir Speaking of depths always beyond my reach. But know you -- feigning prisoner of the boughs, Gulf which cats up their slender prison-bars, Secret which dazzles though mine eyes are closed -- What body drags me to its lingering end, What mind draws it to this bone-peopled ground? A star broods there on all that I have lost. Closed, hallowed, full of insubstantial fire, Morsel of earth to heaven's light given o'er -- This plot, ruled by its flambeaux, pleases me -- A place all gold, stone, and dark wood, where shudders So much marble above so many shadows: And on my tombs, asleep, the faithful sea. Keep off the idolaters, bright watch-dog, while -- A solitary with the shepherd's smile -- I pasture long my sheep, my mysteries, My snow-white flock of undisturbed graves! Drive far away from here the careful doves, The vain daydreams, the angels' questioning eyes! Now present here, the future takes its time. The brittle insect scrapes at the dry loam; All is burnt up, used up, drawn up in air To some ineffably rarefied solution . . . Life is enlarged, drunk with annihilation, And bitterness is sweet, and the spirit clear. The dead lie easy, hidden in earth where they Are warmed and have their mysteries burnt away. Motionless noon, noon aloft in the blue Broods on itself -- a self-sufficient theme. O rounded dome and perfect diadem, I am what's changing secretly in you. I am the only medium for your fears. My penitence, my doubts, my baulked desires -- These are the flaw within your diamond pride . . . But in their heavy night, cumbered with marble, Under the roots of trees a shadow people Has slowly now come over to your side. To an impervious nothingness they're thinned, For the red clay has swallowed the white kind; Into the flowers that gift of life has passed. Where are the dead? -- their homely turns of speech, The personal grace, the soul informing each? Grubs thread their way where tears were once composed. The bird-sharp cries of girls whom love is teasing, The eyes, the teeth, the eyelids moistly closing, The pretty breast that gambles with the flame, The crimson blood shining when lips are yielded, The last gift, and the fingers that would shield it -- All go to earth, go back into the game. And you, great soul, is there yet hope in you To find some dream without the lying hue That gold or wave offers to fleshly eyes? Will you be singing still when you're thin air? All perishes. A thing of flesh and pore Am I. Divine impatience also dies. Lean immortality, all crêpe and gold, Laurelled consoler frightening to behold, Death is a womb, a mother's breast, you feign The fine illusion, oh the pious trick! Who does not know them, and is not made sick That empty skull, that everlasting grin? Ancestors deep down there, 0 derelict heads Whom such a weight of spaded earth o'erspreads, Who are the earth, in whom our steps are lost, The real flesh-eater, worm unanswerable Is not for you that sleep under the table: Life is his meat, and I am still his host. 'Love,' shall we call him? 'Hatred of self,' maybe? His secret tooth is so intimate with me That any name would suit him well enough, Enough that he can see, will, daydream, touch -- My flesh delights him, even upon my couch I live but as a morsel of his life. Zeno, Zeno, cruel philosopher Zeno, Have you then pierced me with your feathered arrow That hums and flies, yet does not fly! The sounding Shaft gives me life, the arrow kills. Oh, sun! -- Oh, what a tortoise-shadow to outrun My soul, Achilles' giant stride left standing! No, no! Arise! The future years unfold. Shatter, O body, meditation's mould! And, O my breast, drink in the wind's reviving! A freshness, exhalation of the sea, Restores my soul . . . Salt-breathing potency! Let's run at the waves and be hurled back to living! Yes, mighty sea with such wild frenzies gifted (The panther skin and the rent chlamys), sifted All over with sun-images that glisten, Creature supreme, drunk on your own blue flesh, Who in a tumult like the deepest hush Bite at your sequin-glittering tail -- yes, listen! The wind is rising! . . . We must try to live! The huge air opens and shuts my book: the wave Dares to explode out of the rocks in reeking Spray. Fly away, my sun-bewildered pages! Break, waves! Break up with your rejoicing surges This quiet roof where sails like doves were pecking. Original French Text Le cimetière marin Translation by C. Day Lewis The French text and English translation side by side Ce toit tranquille, où marchent des colombes, Entre les pins palpite, entre les tombes; Midi le juste y compose de feux La mer, la mer, toujours recommencee O récompense après une pensée Qu'un long regard sur le calme des dieux! Quel pur travail de fins éclairs consume Maint diamant d'imperceptible écume, Et quelle paix semble se concevoir! Quand sur l'abîme un soleil se repose, Ouvrages purs d'une éternelle cause, Le temps scintille et le songe est savoir. Stable trésor, temple simple à Minerve, Masse de calme, et visible réserve, Eau sourcilleuse, Oeil qui gardes en toi Tant de sommeil sous une voile de flamme, O mon silence! . . . Édifice dans l'ame, Mais comble d'or aux mille tuiles, Toit! Temple du Temps, qu'un seul soupir résume, À ce point pur je monte et m'accoutume, Tout entouré de mon regard marin; Et comme aux dieux mon offrande suprême, La scintillation sereine sème Sur l'altitude un dédain souverain. Comme le fruit se fond en jouissance, Comme en délice il change son absence Dans une bouche où sa forme se meurt, Je hume ici ma future fumée, Et le ciel chante à l'âme consumée Le changement des rives en rumeur. Beau ciel, vrai ciel, regarde-moi qui change! Après tant d'orgueil, après tant d'étrange Oisiveté, mais pleine de pouvoir, Je m'abandonne à ce brillant espace, Sur les maisons des morts mon ombre passe Qui m'apprivoise à son frêle mouvoir. L'âme exposée aux torches du solstice, Je te soutiens, admirable justice De la lumière aux armes sans pitié! Je te tends pure à ta place première, Regarde-toi! . . . Mais rendre la lumière Suppose d'ombre une morne moitié. O pour moi seul, à moi seul, en moi-même, Auprès d'un coeur, aux sources du poème, Entre le vide et l'événement pur, J'attends l'écho de ma grandeur interne, Amère, sombre, et sonore citerne, Sonnant dans l'âme un creux toujours futur! Sais-tu, fausse captive des feuillages, Golfe mangeur de ces maigres grillages, Sur mes yeux clos, secrets éblouissants, Quel corps me traîne à sa fin paresseuse, Quel front l'attire à cette terre osseuse? Une étincelle y pense à mes absents. Fermé, sacré, plein d'un feu sans matière, Fragment terrestre offert à la lumière, Ce lieu me plaît, dominé de flambeaux, Composé d'or, de pierre et d'arbres sombres, Où tant de marbre est tremblant sur tant d'ombres; La mer fidèle y dort sur mes tombeaux! Chienne splendide, écarte l'idolâtre! Quand solitaire au sourire de pâtre, Je pais longtemps, moutons mystérieux, Le blanc troupeau de mes tranquilles tombes, Éloignes-en les prudentes colombes, Les songes vains, les anges curieux! Ici venu, l'avenir est paresse. L'insecte net gratte la sécheresse; Tout est brûlé, défait, reçu dans l'air A je ne sais quelle sévère essence . . . La vie est vaste, étant ivre d'absence, Et l'amertume est douce, et l'esprit clair. Les morts cachés sont bien dans cette terre Qui les réchauffe et sèche leur mystère. Midi là-haut, Midi sans mouvement En soi se pense et convient à soi-même Tête complète et parfait diadème, Je suis en toi le secret changement. Tu n'as que moi pour contenir tes craintes! Mes repentirs, mes doutes, mes contraintes Sont le défaut de ton grand diamant! . . . Mais dans leur nuit toute lourde de marbres, Un peuple vague aux racines des arbres A pris déjà ton parti lentement. Ils ont fondu dans une absence épaisse, L'argile rouge a bu la blanche espèce, Le don de vivre a passé dans les fleurs! Où sont des morts les phrases familières, L'art personnel, les âmes singulières? La larve file où se formaient les pleurs. Les cris aigus des filles chatouillées, Les yeux, les dents, les paupières mouillées, Le sein charmant qui joue avec le feu, Le sang qui brille aux lèvres qui se rendent, Les derniers dons, les doigts qui les défendent, Tout va sous terre et rentre dans le jeu! Et vous, grande âme, espérez-vous un songe Qui n'aura plus ces couleurs de mensonge Qu'aux yeux de chair l'onde et l'or font ici? Chanterez-vous quand serez vaporeuse? Allez! Tout fuit! Ma présence est poreuse, La sainte impatience meurt aussi! Maigre immortalité noire et dorée, Consolatrice affreusement laurée, Qui de la mort fais un sein maternel, Le beau mensonge et la pieuse ruse! Qui ne connaît, et qui ne les refuse, Ce crâne vide et ce rire éternel! Pères profonds, têtes inhabitées, Qui sous le poids de tant de pelletées, Êtes la terre et confondez nos pas, Le vrai rongeur, le ver irréfutable N'est point pour vous qui dormez sous la table, Il vit de vie, il ne me quitte pas! Amour, peut-être, ou de moi-même haine? Sa dent secrète est de moi si prochaine Que tous les noms lui peuvent convenir! Qu'importe! Il voit, il veut, il songe, il touche! Ma chair lui plaît, et jusque sur ma couche, À ce vivant je vis d'appartenir! Zénon! Cruel Zénon! Zénon d'Êlée! M'as-tu percé de cette flèche ailée Qui vibre, vole, et qui ne vole pas! Le son m'enfante et la flèche me tue! Ah! le soleil . . . Quelle ombre de tortue Pour l'âme, Achille immobile à grands pas! Non, non! . . . Debout! Dans l'ère successive! Brisez, mon corps, cette forme pensive! Buvez, mon sein, la naissance du vent! Une fraîcheur, de la mer exhalée, Me rend mon âme . . . O puissance salée! Courons à l'onde en rejaillir vivant. Oui! grande mer de delires douée, Peau de panthère et chlamyde trouée, De mille et mille idoles du soleil, Hydre absolue, ivre de ta chair bleue, Qui te remords l'étincelante queue Dans un tumulte au silence pareil Le vent se lève! . . . il faut tenter de vivre! L'air immense ouvre et referme mon livre, La vague en poudre ose jaillir des rocs! Envolez-vous, pages tout éblouies! Rompez, vagues! Rompez d'eaux rejouies Ce toit tranquille où picoraient des focs!

Paul Valery, died July 20, 1945.

[jenovahh]

KYKM - 1 Months, 27 Days

“I-It’s g-gotta be around here s-somewhere...”

Zenos frowns, watching as you barely hold yourself together as you trudge through the snow. The climate of Coerthas is not unlike the cold winters of Garlemald; one he is entirely used to though the evidence shows you, on the other hand, are not.

“I-It’s a lot colder than usual...” your teeth are chattering, body shaking and Zenos can already see the first signs of hypothermia settling in. Things had started fine as you had began your hunt for the legendary beast Safat, but had taken a turn for the worse as an unexpected blizzard rolled in. While he was not the best dressed for the weather either, he at least knew how to keep himself warm.

“Warrior of Light.”

Turning to him, your skin is losing it’s color; he has to act fast. “We must find shelter. To continue as we are is folly.”

“B-But we have to find it! Safat is the o-only S rank I’ve not k-killed...” you stutter, trudging your feet through the quickly piling snow.

“The only thing anyone will be finding is you dead if we do not find shelter.” he grounds out, stomping over to you. Looking around he spies one of the many forts he had seen earlier. Whether it was occupied or not did not matter, he could not afford losing his battle to your untimely death to stubbornness.

“I’m sure we’re c-close,” your sentence is cut off as he picks you up, grunting as he supports your weight. “S-Soryu?”

“We are going to wait for this storm to pass.” he can even feel the cold affecting him now, hurrying his steps as he kicks the door to the fort open. Cursing at the lack of a fireplace, he quickly shuts the door behind him. It was a wonder the savages survived this long when they could not do simple tasks as fortifying against the elements. It is thankfully empty, whatever soldiers stationed here having already returned home.

Sitting you against the wall, he quickly moves to the back room, having glanced at some cabinets through the doorway on his way in. Flinging them open, he finds blankets and jerky; things that are actually helpful. He grabs them with little care, coming back to the room with your eyes closed, sending a shock through him.

“Warrior!” running to your side your eyes shoot open, concern flitting through them but you are still in a daze. 

“I’m sorry I just wanted to close my eyes...I’m really cold.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, causing him to curse in Garlean this time. 

“You will not die before you have fulfilled your promise. Stay awake.” he growls, quickly unfolding the blanket. “Wrap this around your core. We must warm that before your extremities.” 

Your hands reach out but you are still shaking far too much, fumbling with the blanket as you try to wrap it around yourself. Growling again, Zenos does the job for you, muscle memory taking over as he bundles you up.

“I would never think you so damn foolish,” he murmurs under his breath, reaching for the jerky once more. Turning back he sees your face broken up as if you want to cry.

“I’m sorry. It was really foolish of m-me.” you whisper, sniffling a little. Sighing he simply shoves the jerky out at you, waiting for you to take it.

“Do not apologize. Do not cry. Eat.” With a shaky hand you take the meat from him, biting and chewing small portions. Satisfied when you’ve eaten enough he releases a sigh, moving to make sure the door is shut tight. As he moves to grab a chair, he hears you ask, “Are we staying here tonight?”

“What choice do we have? Due to your own foolishness we will not make it back to what was it, Camp Dragonhead? Where we might have food, a bath, a hearth. We must remain here for the night.” he’s tired, and cold, angry that you would risk your own life when you have to live to eventually fight him.

“I-I’m sorry...” you whimper, and it sounds so sad that he finds himself wishing he perhaps had not sounded so harsh. “You’re right it was foolish of me. I put you in danger.”

That spikes his ire even more, that even as you lie there losing body heat faster than you can replace it, you still think of him before yourself. What would you have done had he not been by your side? Would he have had heard the news that the Warrior of Light perished in a blizzard, not in the heat of battle?

“Just...do not make this mistake again.” Propping the chair under the door handle, he comes to sit next you. You’re still shivering, still lacking your natural color; you still need more warmth.

Without asking he slides an arm around your waist to bring you closer, unwrapping the blanket to get it around the both of you. “W-What’re you,”

“You are still cold. Sharing body heat will provide an adequate amount of warmth. Worry not for your virtue; I am merely protecting my investment.” 

You say nothing to that, still shivering against his strong frame. After a moment he feels your weight lean into him, fully relaxing into his hold. “This is the first time someone’s taken care of me.” the words are somehow louder than the snowstorm raging outside, ringing deep within his conscience. He’s unsure what to say to that, to even think about that.

Fortunately nothing needs to be said as you drift off into slumber, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Your breathing evens out, body fully going slack against his own, signs that you are fully asleep. It would be so easy to snap your neck, to crush your windpipe beneath his hand. Every dark form of torture drifted through his mind and yet his body would not move to comply.

Wrapping the blanket tighter around you, he adjusts your head to comfortably rest on his shoulder. “You’ve made me soft.” he laments, allowing his own eyes to drift closed as the storm rages on.

When he wakes, it’s to the smell of warm broth, and his side is noticeably less warm than he had left it. “You’re awake. I never thought you to be such a heavy sleeper.” Blinking his eyes, he groans, not bothering to grace you with an answer. That is precisely why he seldom did rest, at least so deeply. In fact he can’t remember the last time he let himself sleep so unaware of his surroundings.

“Has the storm passed?” he asked, standing to his feet as he spies a bowl of steaming soup on the table before him. Sitting down he doesn’t hesitate to begin eating, the soup warming him instantly.

“It has. We can leave Coerthas now.” 

Arching an eyebrow at that, he eats another spoonful. “Leave? Did you not want to hunt that monster?”

You shake your head, lip poking out in an adorable pout. “I found out that some other hunter had gotten to it first earlier this morning.” you grumble, poking at your soup a bit. “It’s fine though. I don’t want to stay in the cold any longer.”

That, he could agree with. While acclimated to cold climates, it did not mean he necessarily enjoyed them. Mumbling some noise of general agreement, he continues to eat, far hungrier than he realized.

“Also...you have my thanks.” 

Looking up, there is an overwhelming amount of appreciation in your eyes that he’s almost startled by it. It’s by far the most...affectionate feeling you’ve seen fit to direct at him and he honestly doesn’t know how to feel about it. “I’ll make sure to never put us in danger like that again. I’ll be more careful from now on.” There is so much conviction in your voice that he has no choice but to believe you. The rest of his meal is finished in silence, the Warrior of Light shuffling around to put everything as they found it.

The cold air is still brisk against his face as they step outside, your trusty whale already summoned to greet you and take you from this miserable place. He watches you hop on with ease, already whispering where you want to go to the enchanted beast. 

Before he can move to pull himself up, your hand is before him in offering. He can only stare at it in question, sliding up the arm, the shoulder, to meet your smiling face. “Hop on.”

As he places his hand in yours, he finds it as warm as your smile.