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anyarose011 · 26 days ago

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"I Would Not Change it Each Time" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: After the assault you faced, all you wanted to do was crawl into your childhood bed and never come out. Yet, as days pass in with your absence, a certain prince regent takes notice.

Part 4 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past attempted SA, past grooming, emotional manipulation, coercion, and spoilers for future seasons

Heyyyyyy, it's meeeee. I'm SOO sorry it took almost 3 months for this entire chapter, but besides wrongfully starting/continuing other series, school has also been killing me. Also, despite this being a long ass chapter, I do not mean for it to sound rushed. I feel like how I ended this may be controversial, but I also wanted to keep it both happy and realistic; so please keep that in mind. I also imagine the character Evrin to be played by Assad Zaman, but you can imagine just any actor you personally find beautiful.

Word Count: 10.1k

You were still covered in his blood when you awoke, your wrist had turned brown, and you had finger shaped bruises on the inside of your thigh.

It was strange…despite ripping a man’s throat out with your teeth, you didn’t have any nightmares. What woke you up was having to use the chamber pot. Something so small and natural.

Dragging yourself out of your room, you stumbled through the hall and went into the closet with the chamber pot and shut the door. After relieving yourself in darkness, you left and was greeted by-.

“Seven Hells!” Your grandmother gasped. You jumped a little, only to then hiss in pain, clutching your stomach.

She held you up as best as she could. “Vivi, sweetie, what happened to you?”

You shook your head, only groaning and trying to escape her hold. Despite being in your state, you managed to slip away from her. She tried to follow after you, but you slammed the door in her face when you were back in your room.

Something caught your eye, and when you looked down, you were met with a sapphire; Aemond’s eye. You bent over slowly, picking up the gem with your unbroken wrist.

Without thinking clearly, you hobbled over to your dresser, opened the top drawer, and buried it under what little clothing you owned.

The dress on you had become too heavy, so you slipped it off your body and collapsed onto your bed; falling into the darkness of sleep once more.

You must have been dreaming, because you thought you heard your grandmother call you by your name for the first time in a while.

Opening your eyes, you were too weak to even sit up in alarm at her standing over you. Your heart quickened and soon slowed once you realized it was just her eyes staring back at you (and not a man’s).

“What happened?” She touched your face.

You groaned, turning away. “Really bad job.”

“Let’s clean you up.”

“Tired.” You inched yourself under your covers, hitching your breath with each movement.

Gigi frowned. “You’ve slept the day away; the sun will set soon.”

“It hurts to move.”

“Then I’ll bring in the pail and rag.”

“Just let me rest.”

She placed her hands on her hips, glaring. “You’re covered in blood that I hope is not yours.”

“Most of it isn’t.”

Sighing, Gigi begged. “At least eat something.”

You laughed painfully. What was there to eat? You only had but a few slices of bread, two carrots, and a little less than a pound of cheese. You were considered wealthy even by those standards. Aemond had closed off all the ports…

No one could get in, and no one could get out; including food.

“It’s not funny.” She frowned. “I’m going to make you something, and you will eat it.”

Gigi didn’t give you enough time to say ‘no’. She wandered out of the room, leaving you alone. The only time you moved to get out of bed that hour was to force yourself onto your feet and lock the door.

No matter how much she banged on wood or cried and begged for you to let her help, you did not open it.

It hurt to cry, but how else would you mourn your old body before it had been bruised and beaten?

You heard countless horrific memories the girls in Sylvi’s brothel would share of being violated; many worse than yours. Still, just as how nothing could’ve prepared you for how pleasureful sex could be, the same was for the pain it brought.

Gigi lessened her attempts in trying to get you to come out of your room. She’d manage to slide food under your door, and you only would eat when you were sure she was away.

Most of the days (how long had it been since you last saw a familiar face?) you spent under the covers in your bed. If you were not sleeping, your mind would wander. Seldomly, it would be to happier memories of your childhood, your mother, Aemond…

And then they would turn cold and dark; especially at the thought of him.

And then you would cry again, and then your eyes would hurt.

It wasn’t an hour later when you were still under the covers that you heard a man’s voice coming from outside your door. No, he did not knock, he kicked it open. You only had time to flinch at the abrupt entrance before Gigi’s voice broke through.

“How dare you! You’ll frighten her even more than she already is, you mindless oaf!”

“I worry for her.”

Aemond…what was he doing here?!

“Do you think I have been neglecting her all this time?” She dared.

“No.”

“Then…please be gentle with her.” Gigi gritted her teeth, and you heard her leave the room, shutting the door but it creaking slightly open.

Sighing, you pictured Aemond turning to look at the lump on the bed that was you. “Do you have any idea the troubles your grandmother would have faced if I were not outside the Red Keep today?”

Silence was your reply.

“It’s almost sunset, if you were wondering.”

You said nothing again, and that was enough for him.

“There I was, heading to spar and clear my mind from the past few days, and I see her rattling the gates, begging the guards to speak to Jahearys.” He hissed. “Had I not rushed over in time, they would have seen it as insult and…”

Though you had no more tears left to cry, the pain in your chest was heavier than ever at the thought of your grandmother being killed like a dog simply for her dwindling mind. Aemond sighed, and you felt a dip at the foot of your bed.

“It was already a risk to travel into the city now. Many of the smallfolk are…troublesome. I’ve neglected you for a day, and I apologize for leaving without telling you two nights ago, but you should not hold that against me. I went to see you last night and you were not there. I asked every girl in that brothel, and they either did not know, or refused to tell me anything more than that you were hurt. I offered coin, and they did not take it.” He scoffed. “I’ve never seen a whore turn away gold. You must mean the world to them.”

Never in your life had you thought that.

“Will you look at me?”

You didn’t want him to. He had caressed and gazed upon every inch of your body, but you wanted to sink into the mattress underneath you, and then into the earth so he could never find you.

But you didn’t get to do that.

The blanket was ripped off you, the cold air of your bedroom penetrating your bare body. On your back, cradling your wrist to your chest, you watched as Aemond sat above you. The eyepatch he wore only proved that he had rushed over from the Red Keep. For the first time since you had known him, you saw that look on his face: Fear.

His mouth parted as his wide eye ran over your body; every bruise and scratch, and all the blood that had tried to meld itself into your skin. His eye lingered on the inside of your thighs, and you whimpered when he placed his hand on the bruises of it.

“Who did this to you?”

His voice hadn’t changed. He asked it as if he was wondering how your day had gone.

Your breathing stuttered when you attempted to glare at him. “The man you sent to have pleasure with me.”

Aemond’s eye softened. “What?”

You forced yourself to sit up despite your painful cries. “Leave me.”

He said your name, sitting at your side and placing his hands on your shoulders. “I haven’t sent anyone-.”

“-Stop!”

“Wait-!”

“-Go away!” You shoved him, trying to stand, but his hands gripped your waist too tightly as he forced you back down onto the bed.

“Listen to me when I speak to you.” He commanded, but you still struggled beneath him. When you were nearly out of his grip, he gripped your face in his hands. “I said listen to me!”

You were both out of breath, huffing together as you calmed your racing heart. His voice was heavy with emotion, and tears were beginning to form.

He took a shuttering breath. “When all of this is over, it’s you who will bear my children. Even if I have to marry a Lannister or a Martell, I will not lay a finger on them. I will be king when Aegon is dead, and it will not matter what my mother, fucking Larys, or any of them think! Centuries will pass and history will remember you as my wife. How could you believe I would ever send a man to taint you after everything you have done? You-you have been the first and the only to ever show me kindness. Do you hear me?! I love you.”

“You’re hurting me.” You sobbed as he squeezed you tighter and tighter.

Aemond immediately loosened his hold but held you close. You placed your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself through your sniffling breaths. He dried your tears with his hand. “Avy jorrāelan. Say it.”

“Aemond.” You shut your eyes.

“Avy jorrāelan.” He kissed them both and trailed his lips over every inch of your face.

Relaxing into his embrace, if you cradled yourself any closer to him you would sink into his skin. He held you for what you wished was the rest of your lifetime.

He set you down too quickly but shushed you when you protested. “I need to fetch hot water to clean you and wrap your wrist. It’s broken.”

Aemond disappeared from your room. When you finally managed to sit up with the pillow supporting behind you, he came back in with a bucket of steaming water, some cloth, and two sticks from the fireplace.

He first began on your wrist, wrapping the cloth around your elbow to your wrist. He then placed the sticks alongside your arm, securing them with more of the cloth tied tightly around on the ends.

After that, he took another spare piece of cloth and dipped it into the water, wringing it out and placing it upon your face. You inched away, hissing.

“Does it hurt?” He asked.

“A little.” You whispered. “It’s warm and…and…”

“What is it?”

“It’s silly.”

“Tell me.”

Swallowing thickly, you professed “I feel-I feel like I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t the only one…bare.”

He looked at you, nodding. “You’re right, that is silly.”

You thought you were being overdramatic how you felt in that moment; you had just gone through something frightening, of course you would be red in the face at his comment.

Still, you weren’t for long. The Prince Regent, the kinslayer who could wipe out all of Kings Landing with just the snap of his fingers, slipped off his eyepatch and his shirt.

“Is that better?” He grinned.

You nodded. Aemond tried his best to be gentle as he cleaned the blood off you. There were times though he’d have to scrub until your skin turned red. When he was finished, he tossed the cloth onto the floor.

“Your nose is bruised, along with your ribs. Besides your wrist, nothing is broken; just abrasions.” He explained.

Again, you merely nodded. Aemond titled his head before unlacing and kicking his shoes off, then bringing his hands to the ties of his trousers. Once untied, he pulled them down along with his undergarments, his cock springing free.

You sat up, your body tense. “No. I-I don’t want-.”

“-Neither do I.” He sat on the empty side of your bed, lifting up the blanket. “Let us hide and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

You didn’t have to be asked again. Slowly as to not damage yourself, you finally slipped yourself under the covers, and Aemond followed.

As soon as you were completely covered, you enveloped yourself around him; your legs intertwining each other and pressing your chest against his. He wrapped his arms around you, fingertips traveling up and down your back. You hid your face within the crook of his neck, and it was then, when you felt safe, did tears fall.

“I didn’t send him.” Aemond repeated into your hair. “You must know that.”

“Where were you?” You cried.

A shameful sigh escaped him. “The Red Keep. A messenger came for me; my brother had taken a turn for the worst.”

“You said you would stay.”

He only pulled you closer. “Tell me what happened.”

“He-.” You took a quaking breath. “He tried to rape me.”

“But you didn’t let him.”

Your lips moved, but barely a sound let them.

He hummed. “What was that?”

“I’m a monster.”

Aemond shook his head. “There is nothing you could have done that would be more horrific than anything I would do if he were still alive.”

“I ripped his throat out with my own mouth.” His gaze traveled down to you, and you shrunk under it. “I-I had to pretend I enjoyed kissing him; I had nothing to defend myself but my teeth.”

“Fine then; you’re a monster.” Your eyes grew round with fright, but before you could refute, he continued. “You are a monster who fought for your survival and won. I know a number of men who would have crumbled if they wore your skin that night. You bared your teeth and refused to lie down and let him steal you. I’ve been told until my ears bleed that every woman is the image of the Mother, but I have not believed it until I saw you tonight. Painted in the blood of the man that had tried to taint you, you have never looked more beautiful.”

Tears had returned to your eyes before you could stop them, and he kissed each one that fell. You pulled away from him to lie flat on your back but clutched his hand.

“It was the man at the brothel when I was first wounded. The one who said he’d give me a little death.” You whispered. “Sylvi came in after I killed him. She-she said you left with a man and…”

His hand went to your cheek, making you look at him. “I did not send him.”

“I know.” Your words were immediate. “I…I think she did.”

“Why?”

You covered your mouth to swallow a sob forming. Breathing deeply, you took your hand away. “She was envious of me, she was envious of you, maybe she thought I was distracted-.”

“-Why would she be envious of me?”

“She had feelings for my mother.” You admitted tiredly. “She was drunk one night and told me. I jested in my mind that perhaps those feelings carried over to me because she’d constantly tell me I looked exactly like my mother. I don’t know for certain but…”

He ran his fingers through your hair. “Every ounce of struggle you have faced has only made you even more fierce.”

“You are not the first nor the last man who will tell me that.”

Aemond hummed, interested in your words. “How old were you when you first heard it?

“Ten, when I went to the pleasure house to find my mother. Thank the Seven I didn’t wander into any men wanting to bed me, but I found a few who were fine speaking to me about their life; their wives, children, and how they hated them. Maybe they wanted to fuck me, maybe they didn’t; I don’t know. All I knew was that I was excellent at talking to them; and I shouldn’t have been.”

He said nothing, nor made a sound. No words of comfort, no verbal indication of anything.

No, he did something far greater.

Aemond moved down the bed until he came to your legs, parting them gently. As you were raising your neck up to see what he was doing, you felt his lips on your stomach. He kissed your skin then up to the scar on your side.

Your breath hitched as he covered it with affection, all the while, tenderly stroking your hip. There was something else that weighed on your mind. Something that wouldn’t matter to him, but it mattered to you. Your hand trailed down into his hair, stopping him.

“You need to tell me the truth with what I ask you next.”

He glanced up at you as his head was still between your legs. “Go on.”

“Would-.” You sniffled. “If that man had violated me…would you have been disgusted with me?”

He lowered his mouth to your center. He didn’t kiss your cunt, but instead, the bruises close to it. “I will skin the part of any man that touches you, even if it is his shoulder that brushes yours in a crowded street.”

You hated how often you cried that night, more so from his tenderness than of sorrow. Still, it was perhaps the first time in all your life you felt cherished. You felt safe.

“Av-avy,” You babbled, both from the overwhelming emotions and the already difficult pronunciation. “Avy jor-joral.”

Aemond trailed his kisses up your body until they hovered over your mouth, his hands by your head to hold himself above you. He said the words again, slowly.

“Avy jorrāelan.”

You repeated after him. “Avy jorrailaan.”

He cupped your face in his hand, his thumb caressing your lips and whispering into them. “Avy.”

“Avy.” You matched his volume.

“Jorr.”

“-āelan.”

“Say it to me.” His mouth was so close to yours.

Sighing at the feeling, you finally said. “Avy jorrāelan.”

He kissed you like you’d never been kissed before. He kissed you before with shyness, vigor, passion, but never like this. It was a kiss that held a safety to it; where you felt as if he could protect you from the darkest corners of the world, and the darkest parts of your own mind.

When he pulled away, he rested beside you, running his fingers through your hair. You wrapped your arms around him, trapping him in your embrace.

“I wish we knew each other when we were children.” He gently confessed in the silence of the night.

You nodded against him, then asked. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

He kissed the hollow of your throat. “I’ll be here when you awake.”

“Thank you.”

“You do not need to.”

“No,” you corrected. “thank you for being the first to kiss me. If not…then it would’ve been with the man a few nights ago.”

“Sleep.” He uttered your name into your ear.

And you did.

You don’t remember what you dreamed of, but you know that it wasn’t either bad nor good; it was just strange.

What you certainly remember was Aemond stirring beside you.

You were on your back, but you hadn’t opened your eyes when you awoke. His arm that was once draped over you left, and he slid out of the blankets. You listened as he tried to quietly shuffle around the room, putting his clothes back on. When you heard him sitting to put his shoes on, you finally looked at him.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse.

He glanced up at you, his eyepatch already on. Sighing, he finished lacing up his first boot. “The sun will be rising soon.”

“How do you know that? You said you’d stay until I woke up.”

“And you’re awake.” He moved onto his other shoe.

“Because of you.”

Aemond groaned your name. “I cannot spend the morning here and cook you and your grandmother breakfast. My brother is on the brink of death, the realm is in shambles, and I don’t even want to ponder what Rhaenyra’s next course of action is.”

“You gave me your word.”

“Did you even listen to any of the words I said just now?”

“I was almost raped and murdered!” You cried, sitting up. “You cannot do this one thing I-?”

“-And how many women will be if I am unable to prevent the Pretender from stealing the throne?” He challenged.

Your face dropped along with your heart. If your body wasn’t weak, you would have left the bed, your room, and perhaps even the house. You wouldn’t know where to go, but you just had to be away from him.

It scared you how that was your first thought.

Upon seeing the fear in your eyes, Aemond sighed, shaking his head. After finishing with his other boot, he sat on the side of your bed.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He ran his finger over your arm. “I do not want what happened to you to happen to any other woman or child. I only want you to be safe.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your lap.

He put his hand under your chin to look at him, saying your name. “I do love you. You must understand that.”

You took his hand, lightly kissing his palm and whispering into it. “Avy jorrāelan.”

A hint of a smile spread across his cheeks, and he stood swiftly. “I will not be able to see you on the morrow, but the day after that, I will meet you at Sylvi’s.”

“I-I won’t be able to perform-.”

“-Does it surprise you I only wish for your mere presence?” He questioned. “You’re not a whore; you are perhaps my greatest treasure.”

With one last kiss upon your head, he left. You heard the front door shut, and you were left stark naked in your bed.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t even feel like wanting too. You had never felt the way you had with him. You never laughed like that in your life until you met him, you had never been so in love with someone. He was a perfect match for your intelligence and your humor.

He never hurt you as you made love. He’d leave his own marks, but the moment you told him ‘no’, or said that you were in pain, he’d stop. He’d pull every orgasm out of you with such ease, like your bodies had been made for each other.

Gods above and devils below, you wanted to wear his skin and become one with him.

And yet…you still felt strange.

You were just sitting there in your darkened room, wrapped in your blankets and staring at the blank wall in front of you. You hadn’t even noticed Gigi came into your room until she was right beside you, holding a tray with two slices of bread and a steaming bowl.

“They say a Targaryen sent ships to feed us.” She smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and placing the tray down. “Marija managed to fight some men for vegetables and chicken of all things!”

The soup was thick and filled with all the contents she mentioned that Marija fought for. It took everything within you to savor it and not burn your mouth while devouring it. You ate silently while Gigi took a slice of bread and dipped it into the soup.

“I thought Jaehaerys would never leave. He’s a nice young man, but-.”

“-How did you know you were in love with that Dornish man?”

She glanced up at you, and after getting over her initial shock, she smiled. “You mean my Qoren?”

“No, that’s not his name.”

“But it is.” She beamed. “He gave me a false one at first but then told me after he had enough drink.”

You giggled with her, despite already being told the story several times. Still, what she was saying was new.

Gigi continued. “Oh, he was so lovely. You know they say Dornish men are passionate, and Seven Hells he was. There was one night after he walked me home-.”

“-What else?” You asked, not particularly wanting to speak of her intimate life and categories of men from Dorne.

“He was gentle with me.” She recounted, grinning shyly. “Not just with my body but with my mind. He loved me proudly too, and loudly. If there were any other men in a tavern who tried to grab onto me, he’d tell the lot of them I was his and that he was mine.”

You smiled. “He sounded very kind.”

“He was.” She nodded. “His eyes were green; very unusual for anyone from Dorne…or were they blue? Or-or were they just brown?”

Sighing you set your meal aside, embracing her. “Were his eyes nice?”

“They were my favorite part of him.” Gig admitted softly.

You hummed, pulling away. “I wish to be alone. Is that alright?”

She rubbed your cheek. “Of course. Please come get me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

She left the half-eaten supper with you, and walked out of your bedroom, trying to shut the door completely.

As you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind began to ponder. You had been a secret to everyone in Aemond’s life. You were certain no one within the Red Keep knew of your affair, let alone your existence.

But the people in your life, Sylvi, the girls, even your own grandmother? Of course they were aware of you two.

You understood to an extent; what would the royal council in their fancy castle think if the prince regent had fallen in love with a member of the Smallfolk? Would it be better if you were a prostitute?

Immediately, you thought ‘no’ because of Lady Mysaria. There would be past gossip you’d hear throughout the silk street of the whore who had been married to one Prince Daemon and had nearly birthed his child.

It was then that you remembered the war that had been simmering within the walls of Kings Landing for weeks at that point. No doubt, with so much death from both sides, would it finally take place. Thus, you were forced to determine what would happen with only your personal knowledge of the situation.

The best outcome is that the Greens win the war, Aegon dies one way or another, and Aemond is named king. You are his royal concubine while he marries a noble girl, but he never beds her. You are the mother to all his children, and you live comfortably in the Red Keep for the rest of your days.

You would have done the impossible amongst the Smallfolk; be chosen by the prince out of genuine love and not of lust or a weapon in an issue of the family.

Yet, you had many concerns. The first being you didn’t understand how he could be married to a woman from a different house yet not have her produce an heir without being ridiculed by her family. Was that unimportant?

And how was Aemond so certain of his own brother’s passing? Would he be responsible for it if he were to make a recovery?

As these questions rattled on, you then had to face the worst outcome.

On the off chance they would lose, and Rhaenyra was to take the throne as you were officially Aemond’s lover…you had read it in one of the books Aemond had brought you to teach you his mother tongue.

‘When the winners slaughter and maim the man in battle, they shall rape and torture his woman in her own home.’

That was what made your head ache, and you try to sleep. The phrase plagued your mind for hours as you tossed and turned.

The next day, you finally left the house. Draped in the same hood you stole on your night out with Aemond, you entered Sylvi’s pleasure house with your heart churning in your stomach. You felt sick as soon as you stepped into the doorway. A young girl whose name you couldn’t remember was sweeping the entrance.

“We’re not opened yet,” she said. “the men and women need to rest before you can dive your cock into them.”

You pulled your hood down, revealing your bruised and battered face. She stood still at the sight of you and said your name softly. “What happened?”

“I need to speak with Valda and Chansey.” You uttered.

She swallowed, nodding and dashing up the stairs. You leaned against the wall to steady yourself, your wounds still extremely tender. Sooner than you thought, the two women came rushing down the stairs.

Valda’s face fell upon seeing the state of you, and she was by your side in a moment. “Gods above.”

“Is Sylvi here?” You questioned.

Chansey took a quivering breath, coming to your other side and resting her hand on your cheek. She whispered your name. “She…she’s gone.”

Your stomach only tied itself into more knots. “What?”

“No one’s seen her since last night.” She explained. “We looked in her room, but she wasn’t there.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor as they led you to one of the curtained off rooms in the great hall. Normally, you would’ve refused to even step foot into one of them, but your need to sit was far greater.

“You limped out of here after being brutally raped, and you haven’t been here for days.” Valda scolded, but you could hear the pain behind it. “Aemond comes in demanding where you are, and we are none the wiser. What exactly happened?”

Your eyes furrowed as you glanced up at her. “I-I wasn’t raped. I mean, I was almost, but I killed him.”

“You what?!”

“I ripped his throat out.” You explained. “Sylvi came in soon after and said it was Aemond who sent the man. I went home, and a few days later, Aemond came to tell me he didn’t. I-I think it was Sylvi.”

The girls glanced at one another as they processed your account. Valda spoke first. “It…it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. There was one night when Aegon arrived with other men, seeking Sylvi. Unbeknownst to him, Aemond was here with her. After being taunted, Aemond let them do whatever they wanted to her.”

You didn’t know that, and if you had been told it prior to being attacked, perhaps you would’ve looked upon Aemond with more disgust. What you felt was more so perplexion; did Sylvi send a man to assault you to get back at Aemond for letting men do the same, or did Aemond only see you as a warm place for men to stick their cocks?

No…he loved you. He told you in Common and in High Valyrian.

“You believe she did it to spite him?” You asked.

Valda shook her head. “I only tell you what I know. We all know how dangerous a woman is when she is scorned.”

“I wouldn’t preach the importance of consent and then send a man to molest a girl I’ve known since she was a child!”

“Is it easier for you to believe that Aemond sent him then?!”

You never heard Chansey speak so desperately. What she meant to yell in anger, she instead cried in shame. Her breath quivered in an attempt to repress tears, and both you and Valda coddled her.

“What is it?” You questioned.

She swallowed before speaking. “There was one night but a week ago you hadn’t met with Aemond here, wasn’t there?”

“Chansey-.”

“-You weren’t here one night because he told you the one prior he had to attend to a council meeting.”

Your mouth parted. “How-how did you know?”

“He asked for eight girls to be sent to the Red Keep.” She whispered. “I was one of them. There was no meeting; we were there to entertain and to please.”

“What do you mean?”

Chansey said your name softly, taking your face into her hands. “I had no say in what he wanted to do to me, or what I to do to him.”

It would have been gentler for her to stick a dagger into your heart and twist it. You thought you had used up all of your tears days prior, but as you sat in that curtained room, you were proven wrong.

You sank into her embrace, feeling Valda wrap her arms around you from behind. Tiny sobs left your throat, but that was it.

“Did he hurt you?” You managed to ask.

She shook her head. “I was worried about hurting you.”

“No.” You pulled away, wiping your face. “You didn’t want to. He…he…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop!” You cried. “Stop it. It’s his…he…what?”

Valda brushed your hair. “May I ask you something?”

“Okay…”

She took a deep breath, dropping her volume. “The three of us and all of King’s Landing knows that the war has already started, it is just a matter of time before it comes here. One of the captain’s my brother works for has offered us passage out of the city; I am allowed to bring one other person.”

“How? You asked first. “They’re not letting any ship in or out of King’s Landing.”

Valda smirked. “Who says they won’t?”

“What?”

“No matter.” She shook her head. “We will make for Pentos first, and then after, everyone may go to where they desire.”

“That-that will take weeks-.”

“-Weeks to be free over years of possible suffering.” She said your name. “You do not need to say yes…but please think of it.”

Your eyes drifted to Chansey. “Are you not jealous?”

She smiled. “When she thought you were in paradise with the prince, she asked me. My answer is no; my life is in King’s Landing, whether the Targaryens want to make it a living hell or not.”

The offer was tempting…start a new life, leave everything behind and be anyone you wished to be. Still…

“My grandmother.” You stated. “What of her?”

She sighed. “You stay with her or leave without her.”

“But-but is there any way you can speak with your brother? You mustn’t be letting on too many people-.”

“-They are sailors making a profit off of people’s fears.” She interrupted. “Where they are merciful in the offer, they are still greedy.”

It was then that it hit you; the genuine possibility of leaving her behind. What were you to do? She couldn’t take care of herself, but what would happen if the Greens lost? What if they won?

How much of Aemond’s vow was true?

Would it be kinder to tell her you were leaving, or just running away?

Would she even notice?

“When can I give my answer?” You asked.

She swallowed thickly. “We’re leaving tomorrow at the crack of dawn.”

So…no time to ponder what to do. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands and nodded. “My presence or lack thereof will be my answer.”

“I understand.” She held your face in her hands, saying your name. “The third tower on the left of the Iron Gate. That is where we shall meet. Do what you must.”

You embraced her and then Chansey as if your final answer was that you were staying; it wasn’t, but you decided to act as if it was. The whole day had exhausted you, and you didn’t even want to try to find Sylvi; what would you have even said to her? So, you merely made your way back to your house.

You sat there on your bed, holding yourself and pretending your arms were someone else’s; but whose? Gigi? Valda? Your Mother? …Aemond?

Sighing, you had gone over in your head for the hundredth time the endless possibilities of either staying or going.

If you stayed, no matter what, there would be war.

If you left, no matter what, there would be war.

If you stayed, Aemond would possibly keep his promise and treat you like a queen once he was king (though, he never promised you would be the queen).

If you left, you could travel outside of King’s Landing and perhaps be the first in your family to ever do so; see the beauty of all of Westeros.

If you stayed, you could die (but you’d be with Gigi).

If you left, you could die (but you’d be with Valda).

And those were the thoughts that flooded your mind for hours, even when the day bled into night, and with the absence of the sun, came the coldness of the moon.

You got up once you began to shiver, and the blankets weren’t enough to shield you from the freezing air. You pulled out the top drawer of your dresser, pulling out the few clothes you had to layer up.

Something blue fell to the ground with a ‘clang!’

Looking down, it shined in your eyes, blinding you momentarily. You bent down and picked it up.

The sapphire…the forgotten sapphire.

Just as soon as the air had left your lungs, it returned with vigor. You left your room, and knocked on the door of Gigi’s. You didn’t wait for her answer before barging in.

She lay on the bed, knitting and looking up at you.

“Vivi?” she questioned. “What is it?”

You showed her the gem in the palm of your hand, and asked quietly as if you were a child again. “Would you like to visit Dorne with me?”

You didn’t sleep that night; and perhaps that is horrible, but you are still alive. After packing lightly, you and Gigi left an hour before dawn; having enough time to quietly navigate the streets of King’s Landing, all the while avoiding the City Watch, and helping Gigi.

Once you arrived at the third tower on the left of the Iron Gate, you saw perhaps four people there in total. All bearing similar, darkened cloaks that you and Gigi wore.

Immediately, you recognized Valda’s eyes. They were filled with joy for only a moment until they saw Gigi.

She said your name with a warning. “She can’t-.”

“-Let me speak to the captain.” You bargained.

The tallest man among you approached, a straight look on his face. “I assume you are the one Valda requested?”

You nodded.

“So then…why have you brought an old woman with you?”

“Wherever I go, so does she.”

“We cannot-.”

From your pocket, you took the sapphire and held it in front of his eyes that had grown to the size of plates.

“The Eye of the Prince Regent.” You affirmed. “If you wish to not call it that when you sell it for hundreds if not thousands of dragons, that is fine by me. Just know that if you do not take the both of us, I shall return it to Prince Aemond myself and perhaps I shall tell him of who refused to take it.”

It was a horrible thing to say, especially with Valda staring at you as if you were carrying a disease. The captain eclosed his hand in yours that held the jewel, shaking it,

“There’s no need to threaten, now.” His smile tightened. “It’ll just be a tight fit.”

You didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but you didn’t have any other choice than to trust him. Soon after your bargain, the now six of you approached the gates. The captain had paid off one of the guards, because that was the only explanation you could draw from how the gate was opened.

All of you moved swiftly to the beach, and there waiting on the shore, was one of the ships Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen had sent to feed the Smallfolk. It had been pillaged clean, and the captain was right; it was certainly a tight fit.

Yet…everything somehow fell into place. You would make way to Sharp Point first, where the captain had a contact and could only hope would give him a bigger ship. Still, just the mere thought of escaping King’s Landing was enough.

You spent nearly a week on that small boat, and it was a miracle you did not run out of food to feed all six of you. You had grown seasick for the first few days, but it soon surpassed.

Your stay in Sharp Point was short. Gratefully, the captain had managed to convince his friend to give him the ship he hoped for.

Not from the kindness of his heart; only from the sapphire he had recently obtained.

Much debate had gone into how long the five of you should stay in Sharp Point to recover from the week long journey. The ship had also gained a few other travelers who wished to board, considering its size.

Once the ship was acquired, it was settled that you would all leave the next morning.

You would make for Pentos first, then Tyrosh, and finally, Sunspear. It would take a month at least, two at most. You assumed that nothing noteworthy would happen on the journey until perhaps a week or two while at sea.

Never did you expect, as you sat above deck with your grandmother on the first day, to watch as Vhagar soared through the sky above you. You didn’t even see Aemond as he rode her.

To the majority of the people on board, it was an hour-long conversation of excitement and fear. To the few who knew of what had happened between you and the Prince Regent…it kept the lot of you up the whole night.

It wasn’t until you passed by another ship a week later, that it was revealed Aemond Targaryen had set fire to Sharp Point. If you had stayed in the city just a day longer…

The thought alone kept you up for two nights.

Nothing else happened until you awoke one morning having to throw up. It perplexed you; you hadn’t gotten sick from the motion of the boat since journeying to Sharp Point. You grew weary after it stayed with you for a few days, assuming it was a sickness.

When no one else showed any signs of illness, it only wore on you even more. Valda had brought the one doctor on board to you, and he confirmed something you always knew but never wanted to speak aloud:

You were with child.

You were a foolish girl; of course you thought he had genuinely loved you, he was the person you gave your maidenhood too. Still, you had Valda and your grandmother to support you through the long days of sickness and hormonal shift, as well as the nights of depression.

Rumors spread across the ship when it had been evident you were pregnant. Luckily, orders from Valda and the captain (because you were the sole reason he had gotten the ship in the first place), commanded that if there were to be any more gossip around the father of your child, they would be thrown overboard.

The captain was bluffing of course, but you knew Valda wasn’t. Still, the rumors began to stop.

It was a long month and a half on that boat, only with a few days on Pentos and Tyrosh. Yet finally, you landed in Sunspear; the capital of Dorne.

To your dismay, Valda wouldn’t be staying with you. Deciding that she enjoyed traversing the sea with her brother, she said it was better for her to stay with him.

“We will see each other again.” She held your hands tightly. “Even if it is when you are holding a swaddling child. There are always rich lords and ladies who wish to spend their holidays in a beautiful place as this.”

You wiped your tears away. “I love you. Please don’t do anything rash to get yourself killed.”

“When have I ever?” She kissed your cheek, walking backwards to still look at you. “Bringing you and Gigi was completely sound.”

With what little money you and your grandmother brought, you secured a room in an all-women’s boarding house. Even with it being only for women…that did not stop them from inviting partners over; men or women.

You had known how free people were with affection and sex in Dorne, yet it was different seeing, hearing, and gods above, even smelling it. Despite working in a brothel since you were essentially a child, it more so off put you how…how happy people were.

It should come as a surprise to no one; not every girl working in a pleasure house wants to be there. Almost every sexual act you witnessed was one where the girl wasn’t so willing or desiring to do. You thought that part of you had been healed with Aemond, and perhaps it was…but of course you felt tainted at the end of all things.

Perhaps you were jealous, perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, or perhaps it was just culture shock.

You never found out what had happened to Sylvi; although, you had a suspicion Aemond had something to do with her disappearance…you do not know how you would handle it if it were ever confirmed.

The one large difference that eased you within Dorne, was their treatment of bastards. Seven Hells, most of the women at the boarding house had bastards, yet were never treated any differently when they would go outside.

Yet…if your child were to be cursed with their father’s white hair…than you weren’t sure how well they would be treated.

You spent more time trying to find Qoren, the man who was Gigi's first love. It did not take long before it was revealed he shared the same name with the current prince of Dorne; making him the grandfather to him.

So there was a reason he had given Gigi a fake name…and there was little chance you would get a meeting with him of all people.

Still, you did not drag your ailing grandmother across the sea only to escape possible prosecution in the Dance of the Dragons (that was what the Smallfolk were calling it as you overheard conversations of whether or not the war would come to Dorne).

With a large amount of luck, you secured a job as a tailor for the prince’s daughters. With a miraculous miracle…you were to be welcomed with a feast.

You brought Gigi without question, wearing both the finest outfits you could find. Another thing about the Dornish was how extravagant in joy their festivities were. Even though it wasn’t anything like a fancy ball you assumed many of the lords and ladies in Kings Landing would host, it did not make you feel less alive.

You had almost forgotten your entire purpose for being at the feast as you socialized with several people, until the music suddenly stopped along with the excitement. At the head of the room where the members of the Martell family sat, you watched as the old Prince Qoren slowly made his way through the crowds of people who were once dancing.

He stopped in front of your grandmother, who was sitting by herself, and kneeled down to be at height with her. In the quietness, everyone heard him utter with his throat growing tight.

“Yelena?”

You’d nearly forgotten that was her true name.

Gigi's mouth parted at the sight of him, and with no shame or hesitance, she gently placed her hand upon his cheek. She smiled.

“I knew your eyes were green.”

20 Years Later

“Mama, may I speak with you?”

Despite your eldest daughter Siobhan, named after your mother, being nine and ten, she still spoke to you with the same gentleness she had as a child.

Oh…and how beautiful she was even then.

She was born with her father’s curly hair that was white as Northern snow, and his mouth; yet, she had your eyes and nose. When she grew up, there was no possibility in hiding who she was; considering no other children or adults for that matter shared her hair.

Stil…with the help of the Martell family, and the overall understanding of the Dornish people, neither you nor Siobhan were ever ridiculed.

When Gigi and Qoren were reunited at the feast, you and she were essentially treated like royalty. You lived in the palace with them, spending most days exploring and learning of your grandmother and her lover’s history as they begun to rekindle their relationship.

They never married though; a mere four moons after they found one another…Gigi died.

To try and soothe yourself and Qoren, you had accepted she passed after fulfilling her lifelong goal to find her true love again and felt safe to finally leave this earth once finished.

You were surprised yourself that your birth had not been premature from the stress…but you had someone else to guide you through your grief.

Evrin Sand was the leader of the Dornish Guard, and close companions with the younger Prince Qoren. When you first met him, he presented himself as stoic and silent. Yet, there was something that attracted you to him.

Call it an interest in mystery, call it your past self being drawn to the quiet ones, but it felt different.

It certainly was different; the more you got to know him, the gentler you found him to be. He smiled more often around you, and he never needed to pull you into private areas so much as to speak with you.

He was the first person you confided to about Aemond while you were pregnant, and he never once judged you. When Siobhan was born, he raised her as if she were his own; after you consented of course.

You knew he had a deeper fondness for you, and you with him. Yet, he understood the torment you went through with Aemond and was patient with you.

Three years later, and after much time for healing, you found yourself marrying him. Not so long after, you were blessed with your first boy, Leandro.

Another three years after that, your son Yeray came. Four years later, Yanette was your first and last daughter with Evrin; deciding that four children was perfect.

She was six when Siobhan entered the dress store you owned, and she immediately ran to her older sister.

“Shivi!” Yanette cheered, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Siobhan laughed, the tension leaving her shoulders as she picked her up. “Hello, my little darling! How are you?”

“Mama’s being mean.”

“I’m simply teaching you how to sew a button!” You laughed, standing. “What is it, Siobhan?”

Her smile dropped, and she set her little sister on the ground. “Could you go upstairs and help the ladies with the dresses for the other little girls? I need to speak with mother.”

You knew that if you were to have made the same request, Yanette would throw a tantrum. Yet, because it was her older sister who she aspired to be, she gave no complaint, running up the stairs and leaving the two of you alone.

“What ails you, child?” You questioned yet began to clean up your workspace.

“I don’t know what I want to do with me life.” She sighed, sitting at your desk.

“You are not alone in that.” you tried to comfort, placing rolls of fabric back onto their respected shelves. “I have spoken to numbers of mothers and daughters who both worry about that. Do you remember Lumila? You used to walk to the beach together during holidays and-.”

“-I was thinking of leaving.”

You finally looked at her, and though she stood tall, the moment her eyes met yours, she shrunk.

“Leaving?” You repeated. “Leaving Sunspear?”

“Dorne…” She corrected.

Setting the rest of the fabric down, you placed your hands on your hips, thinking. You had often heard of the fear and grief parents would go through in letting their children go, but never knew you would feel it so immediately.

Wasn’t she just a babe in your arms a day ago? Not even able to open her eyes and gaze upon just how much you loved her?

“Where would you go?” You questioned.

She picked at her nails, and you took her hands into yours, halting her bad habit. “Aunt Valda said I could travel to Essos with her and the cousins…and we would be in King’s Landing too.”

Valda was nearing five and forty, yet she still traveled the same path you both took in your escape from King’s Landing. She had become the captain of the ship after her brother, and had somehow found a husband, birthing a few children of her own.

Of course you were still the closest of friends with her, after all those years.

“When did she tell you that?” You questioned.

“Two moons ago when she last visited.” She explained. “She’ll be here in another one, and who knows if her offer still stands-.”

“-Is it what your heart desires?”

Siobhan titled her head. “What?”

You repeated. “If it is how you want to live your life, who am I to stop you?”

“But I don’t know!” She exploded into tears, and you immediately embraced her. She sobbed. “I don’t want to leave you, and-and father and everyone, but-but-but-!”

Shushing her, you pulled away only to reach for a handkerchief on your desk. You handed it to her and she blew into it until all the snot left her sinuses. She pocketed it, and wiped her eyes.

“Why else are you in such turmoil?” You questioned, knowing it wasn’t simply the question of if she should stay or go.

Siobhan took a shuttering breath, saying softly. “I’ve heard rumors of a boy at Harrenhal…one who shares my hair.”

It wasn’t news to you, although hearing it always brought another thorn into your heart. It was common knowledge that, not long after your departure from King’s Landing, Prince Aemond Targaryen retook the castle Harrenhal from Daemon, as well as the castle’s nurse, Alys Rivers.

As years had passed, it was apparent that there was a possibility in her birthing Aemond’s child after his death. It was only luck that you had heard that rumored uttered years after Siobhan’s birth. If the word had spread quickly…the heartbreak and shock surely would have overtaken you.

He had taken Harrenhal only a few weeks after you left Aemond.

“And you wish to find him…” You finished for her.

She sat down on the steps, and you sat beside her. “It may be pointless, and I may not find him…but I wish to know. I love my home with all my heart, but it also longs to live and breathe in places I have only seen in books and heard from travelers.”

You sighed. “I cannot promise you that people will be as accepting as those in Dorne.”

“And I know that.” She ran a hand through her curls. “Papa has trained me well enough to defend myself, you know this. I will travel with Aunt Valda and her children, so I will never be alone.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“I don’t.” She shook her head. “I do genuinely love working with you. I love creating the most beautiful gowns, I love going to the beach every day, I love my friends, I love Leandro, and Yeray, and Yannette, and you and papa.”

You giggled, taking her face into your hands. “And we will all still be here when you come back! Shivi, you’re so full of life. You can decide one day you’re tired of me yelling at you in the store and decide to pick up your things and go on an adventure of your own. You can decide too as you’re traveling all of Westeros, whether it’s a moon, or a year, when you want to come home.”

She looked at you as if you were somehow the only person in the world who understood her completely. Then, with a nod, she said.

“Okay.”

Smiling, you kissed her forehead and embraced her once more. It was when she pulled away did Siobhan ask.

“Mama…can I ask about Aemond?”

She never referred to him as her father. It was always easier to speak of him as if he were just the historical figure everyone viewed him as. Yet, it was also strange to do that, knowing that he was a part of her creation.

It was strange for you too.

“Well,” you folded your hands in your lap. “what would you like to know that you already don’t?”

In her defense, you did not tell her that much prior. It wasn’t as if you had much to say in the first place; in hindsight, you only knew him for a month at the most, yet that doesn’t mean your time with him didn’t matter.

Siobhan began. “I know you said he was mean at times, and you thought he would hurt you…but did he love you?”

“…Yes. I like to remember that he did, and it being real.” You answered with a far off look in your eyes. “If I second guess that it was for himself and not for me, then it would tear me apart.”

“And you loved him?”

“I…I think I did. He was the first person to make me feel good, and we had moments where we would just talk, and I’d selfishly wish everyone else in the world turned to dust just so I could have him to myself.”

“Do you think he felt the same?”

You shook your head. “Not in the way I did.”

She drew her eyes away from you, taking it all in. You reached out, holding the back of her head so she would look at you.

“I do not regret any of the time I have spent with him.” You solidified. “It led me to a safer place, and to having you.”

“He wasn’t a good person.” She whispered.

“No.” You shook your head. “He was mistreated as a child, and even when he was older, but you’re right, he wasn’t a good man.”

“Still, I…I wish I could’ve met him. Is that bad?”

“No.” Was your immediate response.

She smiled. “I mean, besides the obvious, it’s for one reason.”

“And what is that?” You chuckled.

“I’m really a princess.” She said with false pride. “And if Aemond was meant to be king, do you think he would’ve let me ascend to the throne?”

You sighed, both out of playful and genuine surprise. “Shivi, if you keep looking into ‘In another world’s-.”

“-Then what world would it be for it to have been true?”

“…In another world where his mother and father were different.”

She looked at you in question. “As in…not the king and queen?”

“No just,” You shook your head. “different choices. Even so, perhaps many things would’ve been changed for your father to be content in being the youngest.”

You don’t know if it was ever possible for Aemond to have not been blinded by a lust for power. You liked to think so, but the more you dwelled on it…the more you began to believe there was no universe it which it was possible.

“I understand.” She said softly. “I just wished to know.”

You combed her hair through your fingers. “And there is no harm in curiosity. So…do you know if you want to leave or not?”

Siobhan sighed, laying her head in your lap. “I don’t. At least I have another moon before Aunt Valda comes to visit.”

“You will.” You comforted. “I have faith you’ll know what to do.”

She hummed, and the two of you stayed in silence together for perhaps another minute before your eldest daughter rose to her feet.

“I promised my friends I’d visit them in the market this afternoon. I’ll see you at supper?”

You nodded. “I’ll make your favorite tonight.”

“I love you!” she kissed your cheek before waving goodbye and rushing out the door. There you were, alone again with your own mind.

It drifted back to when you had heard the news of Aemond’s death. It had been nearly a year since you lived in Sunspear, holding Siobhan was she was just a moon old. When the Dance of the Dragons ended, there wasn’t much of a celebration or mourning, for Dorne had decided not to participate at the start of it all.

So, to hear the news that the Prince Regent Aemond had died spoken so suddenly…you felt your body grow cold. There was a shame in admitting that some of you still loved him.

How couldn’t you though? You held the proof of it in your arms as you cried. You dreamt of him that night, and it was strange. He didn’t do anything but stare at you.

Night after night, you would see him. Sometimes he would talk to you, other times, touch you; again, most of all, he would just look at you.

Apart of you felt like you only slept just to see him.

Yet now, as you sit in your dress shop, and hear your youngest daughter (the proof of Evrin’s unconditional and unselfish devotion to you) rush down the stairs in excitement…

If you were given the choice to go back to the night you first met Aemond Targaryen at the well, you would not change a single thing.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #hotd imagine

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shinkaeru · 6 months ago

Text

In Another Universe...

Andrew Marston × Reader (gender neutral!reader)

✪ What if you didn't give Andrew an answer after you and him broke up? (2.9k words)

A/N: I haven't written anything for 2 yrs so writing this was experimental for me. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did!

×××

A few years have passed since you graduated from university, you were already working as a book editor in a well-known book publishing house in London and earning a salary good enough to live independently.

Lately, all you‘ve ever thought about was work, work, and more work, to the point you might've just grown a few more gray hairs from all the stress and sleepless nights. You've always focused on finishing all your projects first before anything else, only because you didn't have anything else to do.

“She goes back to the place where her lover once promised to see her. As hours went by, nobody came to find her, leaving her in distraught. She realizes in the universe she woke up to, her lover's fate led up to something else.” You read out loud as you write down corrections and suggestions of your client's manuscript of their book.

While you are scribbling away, engrossed by what you're doing, you hear your phone buzz causing you to glance at it for a brief moment. Out of curiosity, you decide to pick it up to see what it is—It turns out to be a text from your former classmate at university.

“Hey! It's been a while. Do you wanna come hangout with us this Saturday night?” The text says.

You take a sip of coffee, thinking to yourself: Do I still have time for this? It's not like I have anything scheduled for the weekend. You lean back on your chair, resting a hand on your chin. I guess I can afford taking a break for once.

“Yeah sure! Where and what time do we meet?” You hit send and waited for your friend to respond.

Besides, it wouldn't hurt to meet up with your friends from university after so long. Man though, has it really been 3 years already since we graduated? You thought to yourself.

It seems ever since you graduated, you never looked back from your past and continued pursuing your personal endeavors.

As you are about to set your phone down on the desk, your phone buzzes once more.

“Let's meet up at 6pm yeah? I'll send you the location in a bit. Seeya!”

It's exactly six 'o'clock in the evening, you've arrived at the bar your friends have planned to meet up at. As you walk inside, you hear smooth jazz music playing faintly while crowds of people mingle and chat.

You look around the place, hoping to spot at least one or two of your friends already sitting down with a drink in their hand. Going to such social places as bars like this was considered a rare occasion for you since the last time you’ve ever been to one was when you were in your first year at university. The thought of trying to talk to strangers was nerve-wracking enough for you that it makes you wish you’d be home in isolation until now.

As you are about to approach the very corner of the bar, you hear your friend’s voice calling your name on the other side of the bar.

“I’m not late, am I?” I asked as I sat next to my friend while she pulled a pail filled with bottles of beer.

“Not at all, all of us just arrived.” My friend hands me over the drink while two of our friends were talking about a different topic. She sips on her beer then pulls me into a welcoming hug, calling me by my old nickname. “Pea, it’s been like ages since all of us last saw you! I missed you so much.”

“Yeah, we haven’t even heard from you that much either. You don’t really go online nowadays.” He adds.

“I’ve just been caught up with work really.” You respond, taking a sip of the liquor from your glass. “How about you Coconut Man? How have you been?” A chuckle escapes from your lips as the memory of how you and your friends got their nicknames, which was from a Jessie J song that was stuck in your head at one point.

“I flew back here to get my master's degree in literature. Decided one day that I kinda wanna venture into teaching it too, you know?” He shakes his head with a smile plastered on his face. “Moonhead here was talking earlier about getting into Journalism.” To which, they shrugged off his remarks and laughed.

“I mean, yeah. I got into this job where we write articles about other musicians, music reviews, live concerts—music journalism basically.” They sip on their drink. “So far, it’s been fun. Sometimes, we even get free tickets to like, music festivals and shit.”

“You two certainly have something interesting going on with your lives, huh?” You smiled, feeling genuinely happy that your friends have achieved the goals that they have worked hard for all these years.

“Oh! I also have some news to share!” She gleams with excitement as she tries to hold the grin on her face. “My boyfriend and I just got engaged this week.” She showed the ring on her finger, making everyone at our table cheer while I clapped along to her announcement.

“Wow, you’re getting married already? Congratulations!” You greet your friend, which made you realize for a moment that you were finally at the time of your life when your friends would get married to their partners. Holy shit, am I really getting that old? You thought to yourself. You could even say you could feel your bones cracking just from the thought.

“Honestly, that’s one of the reasons why I invited you guys here. My partner and I were already planning out on who we’ll be inviting to our wedding, so I thought about you three.” She sighs. “We’ve all just...grown apart since we graduated. We should all at least hang out some time again.”

Moonhead adjusts their position from their seat. “You know what speaking of wanting to teach, Pea, have you ever gotten the chance to speak to Professor Marston yet after the uh...whole thing going on between the two of you?”

Your heart sinks as the thought crosses your mind. Ever since the night Andrew went to your place to address the situation at hand, you haven’t given him an answer out of concern for his career and reputation. You’ve kept your distance since you’ve graduated, which pains you deeply.

“I haven’t had any news about Andrew to be honest,” You shrug. This information puts your friends in disbelief, which you find a bit amusing. They’ve always supported your relationship with Andrew during those first few months and defended you when rumors started to spread around campus.

“You...you don’t talk to him anymore?” Her gleeful expression turns serious. “No greetings, no updates, nothing at all?”

“Well, I still have his number and his email address, but I haven’t reached out to him since his classes ended.” You reply. “Besides you know how he is, he doesn’t really have any social media presence so haven’t heard anything about him since."

“Both of you did come to terms, right?” He asks, to which you nod in response. “Damn, I thought you guys would be endgame you know? That kinda sucks.”

“Right? Like, we’ve seen the way he looks at you and it was clear as day that he’s just smitten over you.” She lets out a sigh. “Well, as they always say: there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

As minutes passed, you and your friends continued talking about the memories you all shared during university and all the things they experienced after we graduated. Sipping halfway on your second bottle of beer, you feel yourself slowly spacing out, struggling to engage in your friends’ conversation. You aren’t drunk but you are aware enough to be tipsy.

You look around the bar, seeing people clanking their drinks and laughing away through the night couples with their hands intertwined to each other. Despite reuniting with your friends, clearly, you’re starting to realize that this is getting boring and the idea of going home early sounds like a good idea.

“Pea!” You snap out of your thoughts as you hear your friend call your name.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay? You look out of it.” Moonhead says. You nod your head, trying to think of an excuse to get some time for yourself for just a moment.

“I need to go to the restroom for a moment…” You stand up and placed your drink down at the table. “…excuse me.”

As you got to the bar’s restroom, you shut the door and took a breather on the sink. The more you stay inside the cozy restroom by the minute, the more you start to consider that going home is the best option.

You let out a sigh, thinking if going home would be a good idea, especially since it has only been an hour since you arrived.

After a moment of contemplating and pacing, you decide to stay for a few more minutes so that leaving wouldn’t feel awkward.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” You thought to yourself out loud then unlocked the door open.

While you were about to approach your friends’ table, you heard a distinct voice coming from the bar’s counter.

“A glass of whiskey please,” he says. You turn to see a familiar figure sitting near the counter isolated from the buzzing people. His hair fixed properly, his glasses reflecting the warm lights in the room, his attire styled in a particular manner…

No—it cannot be who I think it is, is it? You thought to yourself.

As you come closer, you feel your heartbeat beating every step you take.

“Andrew?”

He turns around and looks at me, his gaze softens at you. “It’s you.”

You end up cracking a smile as waves of different emotions washed over you. “May I sit?”

“Please,” He gestures, making me sit beside him while he sips on his drink. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, I think I’ve had enough alcohol for tonight.” I chuckle while he does the same. “It’s…It’s been a while,”

Andrew nods before taking another sip. “It has.” He puts his glass down. “Well, this is an unexpected kind of setting for us to see each other again.”

“Yeah.” You start to fidget your hands as you feel your palms start to sweat. “You come here often?” You ask.

“Oh no, it’s my first time being here so I decided to come here by myself.” He takes the last sip of his drink and sets aside the empty glass.

Worried that I might be interfering, I hesitantly ask...“Did you bring someone with you?”

“No, it's just me.” He chuckles. “I should be asking you the same thing, what brings you here?”

“My friends invited me here to catch up and chat.” You shrug to which Andrew nods in response.

“Friends from university?”

“Yeah actually,” You glance at your friends' table, looking unfazed by your disappearance as they laugh on their seats.

“It's good to know that you still keep in touch with them,” Andrew watches them along with you.

Should I say how I feel?

The thoughts inside your head go back and forth, contemplating whether talking about the night he last visited your place was worth mentioning.

Andrew notices the confused look on your face, making him concerned. “Is something on your mind?”

“There is, actually,” You respond immediately, deciding not to hold back. Andrew's expression became serious.

“What's on your mind?” Andrew asks.

Before you could respond to Andrew, you notice your friends watching over us with grins plastered on their faces. They mouth “Go” and “We'll be fine” gesturing to go for it.

“Would you like to talk about it somewhere private?” As Andrew was about to face your friends' direction, they immediately turn away and hid themselves with muffled laughs.

“Sure,” We both got up from our seats and headed our way towards the bar's exit.

As you and Andrew got out of the place, both of you walked further away from the bar to be somewhere quiet.

Andrew stands across from you as he waits patiently for you to speak.

You let out a sigh. “I'm sorry if this is a bad time but...”

“No, this isn't a bad time at all.” Andrew shakes his head as he steps closer. “Take your time.”

“I never got to reach out to you since I left.”

“I already told you I will always support you whatever decision you choose.”

“It's not that, Andrew...” Your voice starts to tremble as your emotions start to hit you like a truck. “I never got to tell you because I didn't want to be a burden to your job as a professor. I understand what that means to you, and...” Before you could continue your sentence, tears form from your eyes trickling down to your cheeks.

“You are never a burden to me,” Andrew shushes as he pulls you into his arms, causing you to cry even more. “I don't regret the things we have done in the past, and I certainly don't regret choosing to love you.” He pulls away, cupping your face to wipe your tears from your cheeks

“I'm sorry,” You let out a chuckle as your lips quiver. You have always reenacted in your head what it would be like meeting Andrew when you get the chance, crying in front of him was definitely not what you had in mind.

Andrew pulls you back into his arms while your emotions kept overflowing. Both of you stay that way, feeling a sense of comfort enveloped by his warmth despite the cold breeze. The memories you used to share with him are coming back to you.

“Feeling better?” Andrew asks.

“Mhm,” You pull away from him as you start to collect yourself. “I didn't mean to soak your coat with my tears.”

Andrew chuckles. “No need to feel ashamed,”

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, finding the words you've been wanting to say. “I thought that once that I graduate from university, I would move on and find someone else that gave me the same feeling that I had with you. I waited for weeks, months, hoping that it would happen one day but…” you look into his eyes, almost getting lost in them. “…At the end of the day, everything always comes back to you.”

“Darling…”

“I still want you, Andrew.” You declare, shaking your head as you crack a smile. “After all these years, it's still you that I long for.”

Andrew stands still speechless, his gaze still focused on yours. The way he's looking at you makes you reminisce of that day—that day when he first kissed you, when he shared those moments with you back in his office, when he gave himself in to hold your hand, everything—it all comes back to you that you immediately look away as you start to feel overwhelmed.

“I apologize for being too forward,” You look down on your shoes. “I thought it would be a better time to give you, both of us, closure than saying nothing at all.”

Andrew intertwines his hand to yours, making your heartbeat rise rapidly.

“Darling,” he gently squeezes your hand as your calm demeanor tarnishes in an instant. “Look at me…”

As a sob escapes from your lips, you follow his request. Andrew comes closer to the point you can feel his breath on yours, lifting your chin with his thumb.

And before you knew it, Andrew leans in as he presses his lips to yours. The spark you thought once lost ignites like a burning flame. You kiss back, sharing your warmth with his. It almost feels as if nothing has changed at all. The ache you felt all those years of longing seem to have washed away by the minute.

As both of you pull away, Andrew looks at you once more. His gaze radiating love and comfort. You suddenly don't even remember how to speak, making Andrew grin as he fixes your hair.

“I never stopped loving you, and frankly, I never will.” Andrew kisses your hand that's still intertwined with his. "I meant it when I said I've never felt like this with anyone until I met you." You start to tear up again as his words felt like a tug to your heartstrings.

“Do you think…do you think we can still figure things out? Together?” You've become completely vulnerable towards him. Normally the thought of yourself begging (or asking for that matter) for someone cringes you, yet here you are doing it anywag. You already prepared yourself for the worst, so you held your breath.

Andrew notices your hesitation and holds both of your hands. “We will, together.” I wrap my arms around him, feeling like my heart was about to come out of my chest.

“I missed you…so much.” You confess, making Andrew chuckle at the sight of you.

“I'm here now,” he kisses your forehead and smiles. “And I'm not going anywhere.” Both of you slightly sway as your arms were wrapped around each other's bodies.

A thought comes to your head, giving you a chuckle. “I wonder how crazy it would be what our relationship would be like if we were in the alternate universe,”

Andrew laughs at the idea you gave. “If there ever was an alternate universe, I suppose whatever path we take, it is inevitable for both of us to be together.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm, I do.”

×××

#this took me quite awhile bcs i've forgotten how to write ✨elegantly✨#this was the only draft i felt less cringe of #pls bear w me #zsakuva #sakuverse #andrew marston #zsakuva andrew

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anonymouscheeses · 8 months ago

Note

Have Human Vaggie done the dirty deed done dirt cheap? Make love under the pail moon light? Netflix and chilled? Fucked like animals?

NUH UH SORRY!! THEY ARE MINORS! IM SORRY I NEVER COMFITMED THEIR AGES UGGHH YHEY ARE BOTH 16 AND CHARLIE IS 16 IN DEMON/HELL YEARS OFC. IT YAKES PLACE MOSTLU IN A HIGH SCHOOL SORT OF COMING-OF-AGE STORY BUT IN THE HOOD 😭

So that would be like... sophomore year 😨

BUT FOR FOOD- VAGGIR IS VERY FLIRTY AND ROMANTIC >:3

Charlie is too but in a goofy way she flirts in a joking way but also girlfail way like she uses the corny overrused pick up lines all the time like

"Hey baby did It hurt?"

"What."

"Whrn you fell from heavrn, my angel 😏"

"Girl I came from the depths of hell with you 😭"

Also I like oily men!! 🥰 /j

#hazbin human and demon au #chaggie #hazbin hxd au #human!vaggie and demon!charlie #new tags jst dropped 🗣🔥#ITS NOT UR FAULT ITS MINE IM SORRY #I SHOULDVE SAID IT 😭😭#but so yall can keep it in mind they are both 16 sophomore year

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sasaranomiya · 2 years ago

Text

Koukyuu no Karasu Volume 3 Chapter 2 - The Turtle King (Part 3)

The antagonist of the series is revealed...

Translation Notes

1. The Japanese reading for this word is “dango”

2. The ancient Chinese believed that ingesting cinnabar will make you immortal

3. I don’t feel like typing the characters out but the “Gou” in “Gou-no-Kami” and “Goushi Palace” are different characters but very similar looking

Previous || Index || Next

The next morning, Kajou came to Yamei Palace with several books. It was a casual visit accompanied by only one of her attendants. Kajou, dressed in a light green dress, reminded one of a cool breeze.

“Thank you,” Jusetsu thanked her and accepted the books.

“It was my pleasure,” Kajou said happily. “Since it was a request from Ah-mei, I picked them out enthusiastically. If you need more, please let me know. I have many more in my palace.”

Jusetsu became a little puzzled by the happy Kajou.

“You don’t find this a nuisance?”

Kajou gave a refreshing and broad smile. “Goodness, of course not. I’m very glad that you’re relying on me.”

“…Is that so?”

“It is.”

Koushun also seemed to be pleased with Jusetsu’s request. Jusetsu still didn’t understand his feelings.

“This is for you, Ah-mei,” Kajou said, then took out a vessel from the pail the attendant was holding. Dumplings (1) covered in white honey were piled up in the celadon porcelain vessel. Jusetsu’s eyes were drawn to them, and Kajou smiled.

“Let’s eat together.”

She sounded like an older sister. Jusetsu, whose eyes were captivated by the dumplings, nodded.

“——Oh my, a ghost holding a turtle vessel?”

Jusetsu and Kajou were sitting across from each other, scooping up the smooth dumplings with spoons and eating them.

“And, there’s apparently an old tale passed down in the north, about an old servant who was killed.”

She told her what she heard from Koushun. The dumplings with white honey were sweet, chewy, and delicious.

Kajou, who was listening closely, put her finger on her cheek in thought and remained silent.

“Is there something wrong with the story?” Jusetsu asked.

“You said it was a story handed down. Stories handed down orally are bound to change.”

Jusetsu tilted her head a little. Kajou continued.

“An old servant who served a fallen noble house died after being treated unjustly and brought down a curse on the people involved—I’ve sometimes read such variant tales in books.”

“Variant tales?”

“It means stories that are very similar to each other. There is a certain template. There are probably similar stories in various places, and they are compiled in books and spread to even more regions. The story you told me is more in line with the pattern of the story in that book. ——What I mean is, the story might have been that type of story originally, but it could also have been in a different form.”

“A different form…” She never even considered it.

“So, this story might not have much to do with the inner court ghost?”

When she said that disappointedly, Kajou seemed to be in deep thought again.

“No…I’m not saying that it has nothing to do with the ghost, because the points about the turtle vessel and medicine are distinctive. However, I think you should think more carefully about taking this story as it is and confronting the ghost.”

Hmm, Jusetsu nodded. “I see.”

“I’m sorry if it was unnecessary,” Kajou smiled.

No, Jusetsu shook her head. “It’s interesting to hear different opinions from different people. It’s fascinating.”

Onkei had immediately replied that the ghost was a person of loyalty. Senri felt that this person must have had a sick master. Each of them said what they said because they were who they were.

“It’s fascinating…” Jusetsu murmured again.

Past noon, Koushun came to get her himself. Of course, he was accompanied by Ei Sei as usual.

On the way to the inner court, Jusetsu talked about her conversation with Kajou.

“Indeed,” Koushun replied calmly. “Kajou has a point. Even written materials can become wrong when they are transcribed.”

“So, I thought about it a lot, but…”

“What is it?”

“Medicine can also be poison.”

Koushun looked at her profile. “Oh?”

“Even good medicine can become poison if you give the wrong dosage. Even if it’s life-prolonging medicine, it might work for some people, but make others sicker. In the first place, all medicines that prolong life and longevity since ancient times are all poison.”

“Cinnabar is one of those.” (2)

“I don’t know if it is divine medicine or not, but even if the royal family in that story handed over the real thing, it’s not known if that sick young lady would have been saved. Rather—”

“You think she might have died instead?”

Mm, Jusetsu nodded. And, maybe——

“…”

Jusetsu had fallen silent, and Koushun didn’t speak to her any more than that.

Gyoukou Hall, which was usually only visited by the emperor and eunuchs, was quiet even in the early afternoon. Perhaps it was because it was cloudy and looked like it might rain at any moment, but the inside of the palace was dimly lit and strangely cold, even though the weather was hot and humid. Only the sound of footsteps on the stone floor could be heard. They passed through the corridors and arrived at the treasure room. As expected, Ui was standing in front of the door.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

He bowed deeply. Invited into the treasure room, Jusetsu immediately asked, “Does the medicine that was in the turtle vessel still remain anywhere?”

“It does not,” Ui said in a monotone voice without his expression changing in any way.

“Are you sure? There must be some old medicine left here. Is it not there?”

“There isn’t any,” Ui said flatly. Jusetsu took in a faint breath.

“Is that so? –Then, regarding that medicine, does it matter if someone who is weak and sick takes it?”

Ui looked at Jusetsu with round eyes for a while, as if he didn’t understand the intent of her question or he was searching through his memories. He tilted his head slightly.

“I do not know.”

“Didn’t you say that it was a life-prolonging elixir? Is it true that anyone who takes it will prolong their life?”

“I do not know,” Ui repeated the same thing.

“In other words, there are no stories of such people left?”

Ui tilted his head to the other side this time. “I don’t know of any such stories.”

Jusetsu nodded. “I see. Thank you. –May I see that casket one more time?”

“Of course.”

Ui disappeared between the shelves like the wind. He almost immediately came back with the box in his arms. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

Holding the turtle vessel in her hands, Jusetsu looked at it intently. Koushun was also looking at it from the side.

“It isn’t a flashy masterpiece, but it’s a finely crafted item,” he quietly evaluated.

“Precisely, Your Majesty,” Ui responded. “This stone is a precious rock that can be mined from the northern mountain range, but it was considered too solid and difficult to work with, so the best craftsman of the time put their heart and soul into carving it. The design is both intricate and generous—”

“Ui.”

Jusetsu interrupted Ui, who was speaking like he was reading out from a book. Ui closed his mouth and stared fixedly at her.

“A ghost holding that vessel is wandering about. How do you think such a ghost can release its attachment to this world and cross over to paradise.”

That question always brought back unexpected answers, depending on the person she asked it to. She was curious as to how this person would respond, but the answer she got was succinct.

“Breaking the vessel will release the ghost.”

“Huh?”

“Breaking the vessel will—”

“Are you saying that I should break this vessel?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“If the ghost is holding the vessel, then it has an attachment to it. If you break the vessel, the attachment will disappear.”

It was a very simple and crude solution.

“Breaking the vessel is—not allowed. Right?”

Jusetsu looked at Koushun. Before, she had asked if she could destroy the biwa that was stored here. Koushun looked troubled. It seemed that it wouldn’t be allowed.

“Breaking it would be…problematic,” Koushun looked somewhat baffled as he said it.

“Is that so, Your Majesty.”

No one expected the keeper of the treasure room to suggest destroying a treasure. Jusetsu looked at his expressionless face. It was different from Koushun’s blank face. It was flat and lifeless.

“Then,” Ui continued in his monotone voice. “It is better to borrow the power of Gou-no-Kami.”

“What?”

“Gou-no-Kami’s—”

“No, what do you mean?”

“Goushi Palace is the answer.”

“…? Hmm?”

“You should bring that vessel to Goushi Palace and pray.”

Jusetsu glanced up at Koushun. He also looked like he had no idea what Ui was talking about.

“Why is that so?”

“The shell of Gou-no-Kami is used to decorate Goushi Palace. The ‘Gou’ in Goushi means Great Sea Turtle, the same as the Gou in Gou-no-Kami. (3) It is imbued with divine power.”

Jusetsu was speechless for a while.

“——What?”

A god’s shell was used as decorations? She was deeply confused.

“This is the first time I’m hearing of this,” Koushun said in a calm voice.

“The first emperor who built this imperial palace arranged it to be so.”

“The first dynasty of this palace…the Ran dynasty. It was Ran Yuu?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Why did he do that?”

“It was for protection against Wulian Niangniang, just in case. It is the same as a shaman. You may think of it as a wall.”

Jusetsu and Koushun looked at each other. What did he mean?

“He told me that he couldn’t feel safe without the power to fight back.”

“Told you? Who—”

Ran Yuu?

“Ui, you—”

Jusetsu took a step toward Ui, but he closed his mouth and stared vaguely ahead with nothing reflected in his smooth eyes.

“Please go to Goushi Palace,” he repeated. He showed no more sign of speaking beyond that.

“Shall we go there?” Koushun asked. After thinking it over for a while, Jusetsu nodded.

“I still have things I want to ask you,” she told Ui before leaving the treasure room with Koushun. They were heading to Goushi Palace. It was a palace located near the inner palace.

“Defence against Wulian Niangniang…just in case…”

Jusetsu muttered as she walked briskly. What does that mean? What was Ran Yuu thinking?

They climbed the steps and entered the palace. It wasn’t a very large building. They had a musician play the biwa for them and send a ghost possessing a cloth mask to paradise. At that time, she didn’t get a good look at the palace’s structure…

Jusetsu looked around the palace. It had a cold stone floor, several pillars supporting beams, and couches, a table and folding screens.

Jusetsu suddenly pulled back. The stone floor. It was laid with polished round stones—but that wasn’t the only thing. Something that looked like mottled tortoiseshell was embedded here and there. They were light grey, not brown, and difficult to distinguish from the stone. Looking at the entire floor, one could see a large floral pattern made from these embedded objects.

Is it these?

Jusetsu headed towards the center of the pattern while staring at her feet. There was a table at the center of the flower.

“…Koushun.”

She received the turtle vessel from Koushun and put it down on the table. She moved back a little and knelt down on the spot.

She touched the flower pattern with her fingers. It was hard, but not as cold as the stone and contained a mysterious warmth. Suddenly, she smelled a fishy, damp smell.

“This is…the smell of the sea,” Koushun murmured.

The smell of the sea. Jusetsu never smelled it. But she also felt a feeling of nostalgia, like she knew it well. Her fingertips suddenly felt wet, and she drew back her hands in surprise. The flower pattern wavered and rippled.

Water?

The flower pattern swayed like the surface of a lake and shone a faint silver. Before she even had time to be startled, bare legs appeared from behind the turtle vessel on the table. She looked up to see the ghost of the old servant standing there with his head hanging down. He was holding out the vessel. His hands were trembling.

He’s wailing.

Looking up at him from the floor, she could see his expression clearly. The ghost was crying.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was hoarse and thin. Sobbing, the old servant apologized again and again.

“My lady…my lady…it’s all my fault…”

He was constantly blaming himself in between his sobs. Jusetsu listened to him intently.

“I thought that if you took the medicine…you would be saved…”

As I thought.

Jusetsu stared at the old servant’s face.

“You gave that life-prolonging medicine to your mistress, didn’t you.”

The old servant didn’t react. It seemed her voice didn’t reach him.

“…Then, in other words?” Koushun asked.

“The medicine he received from the royal family was most likely the genuine article. He gave it to the sick young lady. However, rather than prolonging her life, she died.”

“…So the medicine became poison?”

Jusetsu nodded. The old servant thought that the young lady would get better if she drank the medicine. And yet—

“It must have been too strong for the sickly lady.”

The people who gave the medicine to the old servant probably did so out of the goodness of their hearts. Perhaps they felt sorry for the old servant’s desperation.

Jusetsu could only furrow her brow and stare at the sobbing old servant. There was nothing she could say to him, nor would she ever be able to reach him. What could she do?

She looked at the floor. The flower pattern still shone with a faint silver color and was undulating. She slowly brought her hand closer.

“…Gou no Kami.”

Did he have another name? She didn’t know. She simply called out to the god.

“Will you save this person?”

She touched it with her fingertips. It didn’t feel cold. It had the warmth and feel of lukewarm water. Like water warmed by the sun. It swayed and bumped against her fingers, making a watery sound. It felt terribly nostalgic, even though she had no memory of it.

The sea.

Suddenly, her fingers were drawn in with a strong force. It wasn’t that they were grabbed and pulled in. It felt like a power of absorption. Her hand was sinking into the water.

Jusetsu put her hands on the floor and resisted the force. However, the power of absorption was so strong that it felt like if she exhaled, she would be swallowed up in that moment.

“Jusetsu!”

Koushun held her in his arms. Jusetsu could finally breathe. As she inhaled, she pulled her hand back with all her strength.

Let go of me!

She chanted that in her mind, and her chest became hot. Heat flowed from her chest to her arms, from her arms to her fingertips. The force that was sucking her in seemed to slacken, and her arm slipped loose. There was a dry sound, like something popped, and Jusetsu fell backwards with Koushun.

“Dajia!” “Niangniang.” Ei Sei and Onkei, who had been watching the situation, rushed over to them. Koushun lightly raised his hand to restrain them and got up. Then, he put his arm around Jusetsu’s shoulders and held her up.

“Are you alright?”

Jusetsu nodded. She was out of breath and couldn’t speak for a while. She pressed her hand against her chest. That heat. An unpleasant heat.

She suddenly looked up at the table and let out a small “ah.” The vessel had split right into two. The ghost had also disappeared. The flower pattern on the floor had gone back to normal, no longer that silver glittering water.

“It’s broken,” Koushun said nonchalantly. It was the emperor’s treasure. Everyone except Koushun stared at the treasure with bated breath.

“There’s nothing you can do about something that’s been destroyed. This is how the ghost disappeared, right?” he asked Jusetsu.

“…Yes.”

There was no sign of that ghost anymore. She couldn’t hear his crying either.

“If that’s the case, then it’s fine.”

It was a quick thing. Jusetsu let out a small sigh.

Right at that moment, a charcoal-colored sleeve stretched out from the side and picked up the vessel that was on the table. No one had noticed him approaching.

“Ui.”

With that expressionless face, Ui stood there with the pieces of the vessel in his hands. No emotion or intention could be sensed from that face.

“W-When did you—”

Ei Sei was unusually flustered. He was looking at Koushun, seeming to be at a loss as to how to deal with this. Koushun stood up.

“Ui, just as you said, the ghost disappeared once the vessel was broken.”

“Yes,” Ui replied in his monotone voice. Jusetsu stood up as well. She stared at Ui’s face intently. She had always thought that it seemed familiar. It was just as she thought. This expression wasn’t a face.

“Ui, you…”

You have the same expression as Shougetsu.

“You’re a doll—a tsukaibe.”

His eyes that looked like gaping holes were directed at Jusetsu. Eyes that were smooth and seemed to reflect nothing.

“Yes, I am.”

Ui said it like it was nothing.

“Whose tsukaibe are you? Wulian Niangniang’s? I don’t believe you’re the Owl’s.”

Ui tilted his head to the side a little. “Until this moment, I was Wulian Niangniang’s tsukaibe. Before that, I belonged to Gou-no-Kami. I was created by Gou-no-Kami.”

Gou-no-Kami’s tsukaibe.

“Gou-no-Kami has gone into hiding, so I was made Wulian Niangniang’s property. But, Gou-no-Kami has summoned me again—”

The flower pattern on the floor wavered again and emitted that silvery light.

“This is the end. It seems that Wulian Niangniang is no longer strong enough to detain me. This is where I take my leave. So long, princess of Ran—no, princess of Hi.”

The ground beneath Ui’s feet transformed into water, and his body sank down.

“I shall leave you for a short time.”

Ui and the turtle vessel he was holding sank into the water. At the same time, the light disappeared and the floor returned to how it was before. No one spoke for a while.

“…Did he call me ‘princess of Hi?’” Jusetsu’s voice was hoarse. “What does he mean by that?”

Even at a time like this, Koushun spoke with a quiet, unwavering voice. “The Ran clan was from a minority tribe in the north. It’s said that they descended from a old dynasty, but…”

Jusetsu had also heard that story. They were the descendants of a family that once ruled the country or the descendants of priests.

Was that the Hi dynasty?

After thinking about it for a while, Jusetsu shook her head. So what did that mean? Being a Ran survivor was already a troublesome fact, but what was the significance of a long-gone dynasty like the Hi dynasty?

“What’s certain is that we’ve lost one of our treasures, and the treasure room’s keeper…”

Koushun murmured, sounding just a little lonely.

That day, Jusetsu headed for the Winter Ministry.

“I see, the treasure room’s keeper…”

Jusetsu told Senri about what happened to the turtle vessel as they sat at a table in the middle of the outer corridor.

“It was the Great Sea Turtle who created Ui, but because the god had ‘gone into hiding,’ he became Wulian Niangniang’s possession, and now he has returned to the Great Sea Turtle—what does all that mean?”

Senri blinked and looked at her face.

“Before, you told me that you wondered why the ghost of the old servant has appeared now of all times. At that time, I was at a loss as to whether or not to say it, but…”

Come to think of it, he did seem like he wanted to say something.

“What is it?”

“…This is my personal theory, but faith comes in waves,” Senri spoke in a voice as gentle as basking in the sun. “It may safely be said that it has trends.”

“I understand that,” Jusetsu nodded. There was the desolate Seiu Temple and the new beliefs in new gods arising in many places. Beliefs came and went.

“Why is it that the shrines of Wulian Niangniang have become deserted in rural areas, and the belief in other gods has grown stronger? The Great Sea Turtle god, who was worshipped in ancient times, is now nowhere to be seen. –I believe these are all due to the weakening of those gods.”

“Weakening?”

“If a god’s power weakens and no longer brings benefits to the people, their faith will fade away. Little by little, like the waves receding. And then, faith will gather in a god with a different power. I believe that gods can also be replaced like that.”

“A god’s…replacement?”

“It’s more like a struggle for supremacy. There are many temples to many gods in this country, from big to small ones. Aren’t the gods competing against each other for power?”

Jusetsu recalled Shougetsu’s…the Owl’s words.

Koushou made the Raven eat flowers. She continually fed them to her. They were poison.

The Raven has already—lost itself.

And then, Ui’s words.

It seems that Wulian Niangniang no longer has the power to detain me.

Was Wulian Niangniang weakening?

“Then…does the fact that Ui has returned to the Great Sea Turtle God means that that god’s power has returned?”

“I believe there’s a high possibility of that.”

“But on the other hand, Wulian Niangniang…”

Senri had a difficult look on his face. “I can’t say for sure that my theory is correct. However, I believe that Wulian Niangniang was in a similar crisis in the past.”

“Crisis?”

“When the Winter King was killed. The world was plunged into war after that. A new Winter King hadn’t appeared during that time, and Wulian Niangniang remained silent. Why was that? It is said that the country was devastated because of this silence, but since the war continued, it is natural that it was devastated. However, I also think that the silence was due to some kind of crisis that Wulian Niangniang had to deal with. It is all hypothetical, just my supposition.”

“No…it was very helpful. It is not something I would have thought of, since I have no knowledge of such things.”

When she said that, Senri’s eyes narrowed into a smile. “Thank you very much.”

“Lady Raven Consort, Master,” an acolyte approached them. “His Majesty is calling upon you.”

“What, Koushun also comes to see you?”

“Yes, sometimes. I play Go with him in Master Gyoei’s place.”

“It must be tough playing against him.”

Senri smiled at Jusetsu’s words. It seems that he was a good opponent. A strong one.

“You’re here too?” Koushun, who appeared in the outer corridor, said after seeing Jusetsu. “Do you play Go with Senri too?”

He probably said that because of the Go board on the table.

“No,” Jusetsu shook her head. “I came to ask his opinion.”

“I see. I came here to play Go with him.”

However, Senri pointed to the chair he was sitting on. “Why don’t you play a game with the Lady Raven Consort today?” he suggested.

Jusetsu frowned. “I won’t play with him.”

“Because you hate to lose.”

Jusetsu hated how Koushun said that with a cool face.

“You don’t think you can lose?”

“I don’t care about losing, though.”

She considered throwing the stones at him.

“Sit there.”

Jusetsu pointed to the chair across from her. She then took off the lid from the bowl and gripped a stone. Koushun obediently sat down. Senri bowed with a smile and quietly left. Jusetsu watched him from behind. He wore the same grey color as Gyoei, but he looked completely different from behind compared to Gyoei.

“…It’s helpful to hear other people’s opinions.”

“It is.”

“It makes me realize how little I know.”

“Is that so.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while.”

“What is it?”

“Gyoei died, didn’t he?”

Koushun’s hand, about to put down a Go stone, stopped.

“Looking at how you and Senri remained silent, I don’t think it’s because of his age. Was it suicide?”

“…”

“Then, he must have taken responsibility. –Was it Gyoei who let Shougetsu into the inner palace?”

Jusetsu repeated her words with a calmness that surprised even herself.

“He must have hated me,” Reijou appeared in her mind. Reijou, who lived alone, grew old, and died, just as the Raven Consort should. “I suppose it’s natural.”

“…Jusetsu.”

Koushun’s voice that quietly called out her name was something that shook the bottom of Jusetsu’s heart. It always did. This time it sounded even deeper and stronger. Feeling a sharp pain at the back of her nose, Jusetsu swallowed her breath.

“I’ve told you this before, you’re too considerate. You’re so considerate and thoughtful that it makes people angry instead.”

“…You did say that.”

Are you angry? He quietly asked.

Jusetsu shook her head. “You’re concerned for me…but then, who will take care of you? Are you going to keep the pain of losing Gyoei to yourself and never tell anyone?”

All the while keeping those wounds open.

“…There are many who worry about the emperor.”

That wasn’t what she’s talking about. The back of Jusetsu’s chest hurt. This pain was for Koushun’s sake.

“You accept your wounds as a matter of course. That’s because you think of them as your punishment. I thought that way as well. But…” Jusetsu looked down at the Go stone in her hand. “Some time ago, I exorcised a curse put on an attendant of Hakkaku Palace.”

Koushun nodded.

“The attendant’s life was saved by her betrothed, but she deeply regretted leaving him to his death. However, I think that regretting like that would also mean denying the choice that her betrothed staked his life on. So, I—”

Jusetsu sighed.

“I can’t say it well. But I…don’t want to deny my mother’s decision at that time.”

She tried to say more, but couldn’t find the right words.

“Is that so,” Koushun said. He seemed to understand what she was trying to say. “I see…”

He didn’t say anything more after that. He also stared at the stone.

“I’ve never considered it a good thing to associate with others,” Jusetsu put a stone on the board. “But there are many things that you are able to see when you interact with people.”

Even if that’s the wrong path for the Raven Consort.

What people did with the best of intentions didn’t always bring good results. So maybe this was all a mistake as well. I might be falling into a dark pit, little by little, little by little.

Still, I cannot think that I would have been better off without the connections that I have now.

After she returned to Yamei Palace, a familiar attendant visited. She was no longer wearing the white coral ornament on her sash. It was Ki Senjo.

“I have come to deliver a letter from the Lady Crane Consort.”

Senjo was holding a tray in her hands. There was a letter on the ostentatious brocade cloth. Wondering what it was about, Jusetsu picked up the letter and spread it out. The writing was beautiful, as one would expect from a consort. Contrary to the Crane Consort’s mysterious impression, the contents were terribly ceremonious and formal. However, it was simply an invitation to tea.

“…She shouldn’t have gone out of her way to send a letter like this.”

Senjo, who apparently didn’t know what was in the letter, looked dumbfounded.

“She asked me to have you write an answer. May I please ask you to do so?”

Jiujiu started to grind ink with an inkstone. Jusetsu hesitated over how to reply. Her eyes caught on Senjo’s tray. The brocade cloth was embroidered with tortoiseshell crests in gold and silver threads.

“Are those turtles?”

Senjo looked down at the tray after she murmured that.

“Are you talking about this cloth? Of all the ones that the Crane Consort owns, this one is the finest. The Lady Crane Consort was reluctant at first, saying that the tortoiseshell pattern wasn’t cute, but after much deliberation, she chose this one, saying that the ones with dyed flower patterns were too light and that she couldn’t find any other brocade that she liked.”

“All that for a single piece of cloth?”

“Since this is the first letter she’s delivering to the Lady Raven Consort, she agonized over how to write it. The Lady Crane Consort wants to get along with you.”

That was surprising. Jusetsu’s impression of her was that of a “girl who’s difficult to grasp.”

“Not cranes, but turtles?” the person who cut in was Jiujiu, who was rubbing out the ink. “Since it’s Hakkaku Palace, I thought you would use a crane crest more often.”

“Tortoiseshell crests are everywhere at our palace. The attendants also favor that pattern for their ruqun… It is the crest of Lord Hakumyoushi, after all.”

Hakumyoushi. The god the Eight Truths Sect worships.

Jusetsu, who was about to pick up the brush, lifted her head.

“The tortoiseshell crest is the crest of Hakumyoushi?”

“Yes. Because Lord Hakumyoushi is the Great Sea Turtle God.”

The brush fell onto the table.

Previous || Index || Next

#koukyuu no karasu #koukyuu no karasu 3 #shirakawa kouko #translations

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pickleandthequeen · 1 year ago

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Training #3

“Based on my experience on the beach the day before, I form a new plan.”

On the beach, Marimo was unsettled. The bay stallion tossed his mane, some more rebellious ropes of hair fighting free of his red ribbon with the help of the wind. His nostrils flared and he whinnied, and Evvy shuddered. She still hadn’t managed to get used to the unsettling sounds of the Cappail Uisce. Like a regular horse, but off, unfamiliar. The cappal looked to the ocean, his head held high, tail flagging behind him. Evvy kept an eye on his feet, the other on his face.

“Four on the floor,” she murmured. An ear flicked at her voice, and he shifted, but did not move. She wiggled her rope, and Marimo arched his neck, gnawing the air with his tigerlike teeth before letting out a great sigh and shook himself.

He looked at her and licked his lips and put his head down. Pop pop. She dug a slice of beef from the plastic pail on her hip, and handed it to him at the end of the tongs. He snapped it up with less politeness than she typically expected of him, and she gave him a dirty look.

Intentionally, she came to the beach early, the tide was still high, and there were fewer riders and fewer Cappail. They were the first on the sands this morning, the others waiting for the tide to ease out and expose more sand. This was a good test. Could the work she’d done, teaching the horse to look to her for a reward, to help him associate her with something good rather than as a potential meal, worked? How would the call of the October ocean affect him?

She slowly let the lead line out, and pointed out around her, asking him to walk around her to the left. He was better starting out tracking left. She usually tried to start him to the right, but she wanted to set him up for as much success as was reasonable.

Marimo picked up a trot and tossed his head again, mouth open and chewing the air, but he stretched his head and neck down and stuck his nose out in front of him as his trotted through the sand. She gave him a moment before asking for more, encouraging him to pick his feet up and track up. He pinned his ears but obliged and after a lap around her, she popped her lips, and wiggled the rope to ask him to halt. He slammed on the brakes and spun in towards her. Evvy didn’t like the look in his eyes, and she squared her shoulders, holding up her stick.

Marimo pinned his ears and screamed his keening, aquatic sound, but came no closer. She waited another moment before popping her lips again and handing over two chicken hearts, one after the other.

The water horse chewed his prize, his expression difficult to read. His ears swiveled in every direction, before he lifted his head, his expression stilling, ears trained on the ocean. Hairs on the back of Evvy’s neck prickled. She wanted to turn. Turn to look at the ocean. But turning would expose her back to the bay stallion. Her heart started to hammer under her ribs. She was certain Marimo could hear it. Her breath hitched. If a horse was coming out of the ocean, she was alone, trapped between predators. Against one, she stood little chance. Against two? She knew all the training in the world would not prevent her cappal’s base instincts from kicking in.

This was stupid, coming alone. She should have brought a lookout.

She stepped forward, towards her not quite half-tamed horse, holding out a hand to his shoulder before she turned to face the sea. Marimo exhaled, his breath smelling of seawater, and he dropped his head, shaking it. Together, they watched the breakers hitting the shore, and Evvy counted two sleek, barely equine heads surging through the surf. Pop pop, and she tossed Marimo a chunk of beef heart. He ignored it for a moment, his lowered head twisting sideways as he chewed the ocean air, his almost feline eyes following the wild Cappail. Then he snorted a wet snort before slowly lipping the bloody piece of beef heart up into his mouth.

She traced circles on his shoulder, comforted at least a little, that his skin felt warm and dry, and he smelled more like the summer sea breezes than the storm thrashed surf.

He hadn’t killed her today, on the beach, but there was tomorrow, and the day after that, and the one after that until November first, and the ocean would grow colder, and the horses more hungry.

@thescorpioracesfestival

#tsrf2023 #thescorpioracesfestival #the scorpio races

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 2 years ago

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NOT THE MEEK AND OBEDIENT TYPE

Hello all, This is chapter 2 as promised. Claire is doing the two tasks that Mother Hildegard told her to do. Scrub the chapel floor and think about if she truly has a vocation. This is just Claire and her thoughts. We meet Jamie in chapter 3.

I would like to thank Statell for reading Chapter 1 & 2 way back in 2022 when I first thought of this story. Her input was invaluable. I also want to thank Gotham-Ruaidh who read this after several rewrites and told me it was not trash. I thank you both for your time and encouragement.

So here goes nothing.

Not the Meek and Obedient Type

Chapter 2

Introspection

A bucket of steaming water, a lump of lye soap, and a scrub brush awaited the penitent in the Chapel of the Angels. The postulant and novice instructor, Sister Josepha made sure that Claire would not delay in beginning her penance. There was a lot of floor to be scrubbed.

Claire needed to get to work as it would take her well into the night to finish the job. She also knew that Sister Josepha would come back to check on her progress before retiring to her bed and didn’t want another reprimand, this one for being a sluggard. Girding up her tunic between her legs, she secured it at her waist with the rope that she used as her belt. It wouldn’t do to get it dirty as she did not have another clean smock.

Kneeling on the floor, she picked up the brush and dipped it in the water. It was hot. Her fingers turned red and smarted from the heat. She snatched her hand out of the pail quickly and shook her head. Sister Josepha decided to add another layer to her suffering. She blew on her fingers and then waved them around to help cool them. Once they no longer stung, she applied the soap to the brush and bent to her work.

Scrubbing the floor was not the only task Mother had given her. She needed to examine the strength of her desire to become a nun. Claire never considered becoming a nun as her calling. Everyone simply assumed that she would join the sisters’ community. After all, she came to live in the convent as a child, after losing both her parents in an accident.

Her parents, Henry and Julia, were on their way to the market to sell the small amount of produce their farm yielded. Their horse Jack pulled the cart. The other cotters secretly called him Black Jack because he had a coat and heart as black as coal. Some believed him Satan’s own stallion who would readily carry anyone who rode him away to the depths of hell. He had an irascible nature and a tendency to bite. Jack’s saving grace was that he could run or work for hours without easily tiring. Henry prized him for his soundness and strong wind as did many of his neighbors. Jack often found himself in the breeding shed with some sweet-tempered mare. The farmers hoped that the gentleness of their mares would offset any potential for snappiness from his progeny. Henry made most of his coin by breeding Jack, not by tending his farm. Rocks littered the land and the soil was so poor that even weeds refused to grow. But the little family managed to eke out a living nonetheless.

A witness to the accident told everyone that Jack abruptly reared up, shaking his head wildly, lips curled back, and his eyes rolled back showing only the whites. He raced up the road at break-neck speed with the little cart bouncing, as cabbages, onions, and carrots spilled out. Henry did his best to try to control the beast, but Jack was too strong and too frightened. The cart's wheel fell into a rut in the road, shattering it. The cart continued on a deadly trajectory from sheer momentum careening into a tree, instantly killing Henry and Julia. Jack, however, disappeared which did not surprise anyone. His broken harness remained attached to the cart. No one saw him run away, giving rise to further evidence of his demonic spirit.

The villagers did the best they could to see the Beauchamps decently buried. The tender question remained, however, of what to do with the child. Deciding the fate of little Claire was a delicate matter undertaken by the village’s priest and the magistrate. As she had no other relatives other than her Uncle Lambert, an itinerant jack-of-all-trades, and Lord knew where he was. After much discussion, the village elders decided it would serve her best if she went to live at the Abbey where she would be educated, cared for, and safe. The townsfolk were not unkind or uncharitable people by any means. They were dirt poor and having to raise and feed one more mouth would put a strain on any of the families. At the age of eight, she went to the convent. That was ten years ago. Everyone automatically assumed that she would join the community of nuns. Everyone except Claire, who was now having second thoughts.

Scrubbing the tiles lent Claire a sense of monotony. Dipping the brush in the water, soaping it up, washing and rinsing, and repeating the process over and over again did not require skill or concentration. It was exactly the type of mindless activity that encouraged introspection. The second task Mother set for her to do - was to decide if she wished to become a nun.

Claire didn’t know what she wanted. How could she? Her experiences of the outside world were those of an eight-year-old child. What did she know of the world outside the convent?

Claire often heard the tales the new postulants told. Some liked to tell stories about their clothes. They spoke of the pretty lace-trimmed petticoats they wore, stocking with embroidery on them, wearing new gowns, and their lovely shawls. She never had anything but the garments from the Abbey. Well, that was not entirely true. She had a shawl of many colors that her Uncle Lamb had brought her on one of his rare visits. It became her most prized possession; the only thing she ever owned. Claire often thought it must be a sin to love it as she did because she should not have an attachment to things. But the colors were festive, the pattern lively. The texture was so soft and fine that it contrasted with her coarse habit. A shawl made for a lady to wear to a party. Frequently, she would look at it, just to admire it. And when she felt lonely, she curled up with it in her arms, falling fast asleep.

Other postulants talked about going to festivals, wearing flowers in their hair, playing games, dancing, and...boys. The girls would giggle and laugh about dancing with them. And how the boys would chase after them making them squeal as they attempted to get away. Invariably, the boys were faster and caught the girls. The boys would demand a kiss from their captives in exchange for their freedom.

Claire wondered what it would be like to dance with a boy. To be held in his arms? What would a kiss be like? Would it be a sloppy, messy meeting of mouths? Or would it be warm, tender, and wonderful? Her meandering thoughts freely floated toward her true question, what would love be like?

Claire’s mind wandered to one of the few memories she had of her parents. Each night after they ate their meager supper, Henry hoisted Claire on his shoulders and took Julia by the hand. Together, they would walk outside breathing in the fresh evening air as they viewed their farm. Once settled along a railing, he pointed to different parts of the field explaining his plans for clearing and working the fields. “Someday our farm will be prosperous,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “And I will build you a grand manor to live in that will be the envy of the town.” He wrapped his arm around Julia’s waist pulling her closer to him, “I shall dress you and our princess in the finest gowns made of silk and lace.” Julia would smile at him and lean her head on his chest, “I know Henry. I know.” The threesome watched as the lavenders and blues of twilight settled over their farm. Henry clasped Julia’s hand, bent his head, and kissed his wife sweetly.

Lifting Claire from his shoulders Henry placed her down between her parents. He bussed her cheek, “I love you, my princess,” making her giggle as his stubble brushed her cheek.

“I love you too, Papa. And I love you, Mama.” Claire reached up and took hold of their hands walking home together.

Her parents didn’t have many material things but what they did have, Claire believed, was love.

She had never done any of the things the other girls had done and wondered if she was missing something. Missing the opportunity to live, to experience life. Ultimately, the new postulants chose to give up these earthly contrivances and enter a consecrated life. They chose; whereas Claire had the decision thrust upon her. If she had nothing to compare to, how could she give the Abbess an honest answer about her choice of vocation?

The Abbess. What about the Abbess? She had taken Claire in when she had nowhere to go and treated her like a daughter. Would Mother think her naught but ungrateful? What would the other nuns, who were her companions, friends, and in every sense but blood, her sisters think? Perhaps they would feel abandoned by her. Would they hate her?

Mother welcomed each new postulant with a caution. Entering the religious life should not be lightly made. They would make personal sacrifices and only those truly called, faithful, and willing to serve the Lord above all else could find happiness in this life. The Lord wanted followers not to be followed. Claire wondered, did she have the calling and the will to serve? She exhaled heavily, thinking such weighty thoughts made her headache.

After brushing back several curls that had escaped from her wimple, Claire sat back on her heels surveying her work. The floors were scrubbed clean. However, her habit still managed to absorb the filthy water ruining her last clean robe. She sighed heavily realizing that she needed to wash out her habit and hoped it would dry in time for morning services.

Perhaps this was not a punishment at all but meant to galvanize her into taking action. To take control of her life. Children left home every day to get married, take up a position, or seek adventure. Mayhap it was time for her to leave her home. A sudden cold wave of fear skittered down her back. What would she do outside the convent? How would she live? Here in the convent, she need not worry about food, clothes, or shelter. But outside? Then what? A smile slowly crept across her countenance brightening her face. She could offer her services as a healer. She had been Mother Hildegard’s apprentice and Mother said her skills were as good as her own. All she needed to do would be to find a town that needed a healer and begin there. It was settled. She would leave the convent. Tonight.

Claire rose and stretched her back, fingers and knees all aching from her labors. For the last time, she emptied the bucket of wash water, placed the remaining sliver of soap, and the brush in the pail returning them to their storage space. No journey should begin without prayer, she thought. She went to the sanctuary and knelt before the altar. Head bowed, hands folded in devotion, Claire asked both for forgiveness for leaving and for the Lord’s blessing on her journey. As she walked back to the vestibule, she turned to look once more at what had been a large part of her life for so many years. She was struck with the thought that she would never see this place again.

Her first priority would be survival. For that, she needed food and drink. She decided that some hard cheese, bread, and a skin of water would last for a few days. In the kitchen, Claire found two small sacks, one for the food and the other suitable for the herbs she would find along the way. She quietly scurried past the rooms of the sleeping nuns contemplating what else she should take with her. Noiselessly, Claire opened the door to her cell. She looked over the room taking in everything. In the middle of the room, her cot stood with a small pillow and the blanket folded at the foot. A crucifix hung above the small bed adjacent to the wee window that let in light and air. A hide hung over the opening to keep out the night chill. Against a wall, an old battered trunk stood containing her few meager possessions. The ewer and basin rested on a rickety table against another wall. Finally, she spied the brazier that kept her warm. It felt odd to be leaving the only home she had ever known. And suddenly she was seized with pangs of homesickness. Bracing herself against the fear of leaving and the fear of not leaving, she opened her trunk taking out her most serviceable clothes, her shawl, and her digging knife. She placed everything into a pack that could easily be carried. Silently, she closed the door to her room, hurried out into the night air, and left through the back entrance of the Abbey.

A single room was brightly lit and a lone figure moved about watching out the window as Claire departed. “Au revoir, mon Cheri. May God bless and protect you. I hope you find your heart’s desire.”

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cori-the-warewolf-god · 2 years ago

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On a dark night like no other a group of teens were out for a walk. Cartens of eggs and rolls of toilet paper in hand as they scoped out the area trying to pick a house to vandalize. Small children dressed in their costumes running by them with their gaurdians in tow. Rubin one of the 2 girls pointed out that no one seemed to be home at the Wipplestein's home and the 5 ultimately agreed that the large 3 stories house would be their target.

Hopping the fence Adrian waited as Frank helped Tory jump it, catching her when she did. Rubin jumped it with ease and rolled her eyes at the frufru girl and scoffed. Axle crawled under a small gap in the fence and dragged the eggs through it as Frank threw the toilet paper over and jumped the fence as well.

"Gosh Tory I thought you were a 'strong independent women'" Rubin snapped out as she opened a carton of eggs and threw some at the house.

"Shut up Rubin, I don't know why you bothered to come" the blond retorted as she wiped a roll of tp over one of the trees in the yard.

Axle followed suit by throwing some eyes at a window on the second story. Thunk... thunk.... thunk. All 3 hitting perfectly on the bay window that jutted out on the front of the large grey house.

"Shut up both of you" the two males whispered in unison before doing their deeds. The 2 laughing as they cared the house and bushes with eggs and tp.

Thats when they heard a noise a creeking sound, the five of them looked around the house but saw no lights on, and that's when Frank spotted it. The front door slowly opening and a pail white hand reaching out of the gap in the door.

He panicked and tapped his brother Adrian on the shoulder

"Dude look" he whispered out pointing in the direction only for the door to be shut and no creepy white hand to be seen.

"Very funny bro" was all Adrian said as he continued to throw tp at trees in the yard. The two girls eventually ran out of eggs and toilet paper so they went over and stood by the fence waiting for the boys and Axle.

"Hurry up guys, it's getting cold" Rubin snapped out before turning around to watch the trickery treeters not so far away with their gaurdians.

Adrian ran over to them with a shocked look in his eyes. He had seen something but he couldn't describe what.

"Let's go, rubin get ready to catch tory" he said as he picked the smaller girl up. Rubin claimed the fence and then Tory was tosted over. Adrian clambering up the 5 ft fence as fast as he could.

Once on the other side he left out a shakie breath. And looked around for his brother and Axle.

"Guys let's go!" He screamed out, his tough guy facade had faded into one of panic and fear.

Frank jumped the fence shortlie after as he took a deep breath.

"You saw it this time?!" He asked his brother who nodded in return

"Very funny you two, Axle hurry up" Tory shouted at her younger cousin as he slowly walked twords them getting ready to crawl back under the fence via the small hole in it.

That's when the girls saw it. A pail white apararishen on the porch, slowly stalking twords them.

"Axle hurry it's behind you!!" Rubin screamed as the younger kid tried to get under the fence as fast as they could. As they crawled out a long pail arm reached through the fence and grabbed them by the ancle and dragged them back under the fence and into the house.

"Help" axles broken voice rang out as the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Its been 6 years since the disappearance of Axle J Deacan. Cops had searched the Wipplestein's house too to bottom and didn't find their body. They assumed the 4 teens had been living and that the younger teen had been left in the woods or had simply just ran away.

Non of them questioned the plie wood slab on the floor in the corner of the basement.

———

(This is why you don't tp houses kids)

#story #spooky #scary stories #halloween #Halloween stories

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mysterythief · 6 months ago

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This got long, so I also put it on A03. I'm going to split it into 3 different reblogs here, so make sure you check them all out.

Raising Phoenix

The god stood behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was there.

“This will hurt,” he whispered.

You nodded as you rocked back and forth in front of the fire, gently stroking the small girl’s blond hair. She was small enough she fit on your lap, where she had fallen asleep after you had cleaned her up and fed her. She couldn’t be more than 2 or 3. Left on the side of the road covered in ash and blood. You did the only thing you could.

You brought her home.

“What will you call her?” he questioned.

“Phoenix,” was your only response, as the god softly put his hand on your shoulder before vanishing into the night.

***

Phoenix’s laughter rose through the air as she toddled along the road, her tiny right hand tightly clenching two of your fingers while her left pointed out a passing butterfly. Sixth months had passed since you had brought her home, and she was vibrant toddler, lively as ever.

“Fly.” She stated, looking up at you expectantly.

“Yes, Phoenix. The butterfly flies.” You laugh softly.

“Fly.” She repeated again, this time gesturing you to pick her up.

“Ahh, my precious Phoenix longs to fly, yes?” You question as you swiftly pick her up, throwing her up into the air and catching her.

“Fly! Fly!” She giggled and squealed. “Again! Fly!”

You threw her into the air a few more times, letting her laughter and your smile fly with her, until it grew dark.

“Again!” Her cry was softer, having tired herself out.

You kissed the top of her head. “You are the most vibrant bird in the sky my Phoenix. And you will fly above them all. But now it’s time for dinner and bed.”

***

“Tell me a story Father?” Phoenix asked, as you tucked her into bed.

You brushed her blond curls away from her face, amazed that it had already been 3 years since you had brought her home. You licked your finger and dabbed at her chin, where leftover crumbs lay from your celebration dinner earlier that night.

“And what story should I tell you daughter?”

“Tell me about the phoenix.”

You paused and waited expectantly.

“Please.” She added, still learning her manners.

“Very well. Since you asked so nicely, I must oblige.” You responded with a soft smile.

“Unlike other birds, who hatch once their mother has laid an egg, the phoenix is born from the blood and ash of a fire. Covered in soot the phoenix rises. It starts small, a dark little thing, with very little wings.” You put your arms close to your body, mimicking little wings, as Phoenix giggles.

“As the phoenix grows, it become the color of fire. Bringing light wherever it goes as its wings expand to protect those it loves.” You spread your arms out wide as wings. Purposefully placing them in front of Phoenix.

“When the phoenix has lived life to the fullest, it burst into flames, leaving behind blood and ashes for the phoenix to rise again.”

“Why did you name me Phoenix?” The question comes suddenly, as if it had just occurred to the girl.

You smile sadly at your little girl, just barely six, and yet the brightest thing in your world. “I named you Phoenix, because you brought light into my life,” you lied.

She nodded, as if that made sense in her little world, already drifting to sleep as you kissed her goodnight.

***

“Father! Father!” Phoenix crowed as she ran with her water pail to the garden where you were planting the springs crop.

“What, my bright bird?” You questioned as you dug another hole and planted more seeds.

“You’ll never guess what happened while I was gathering water at the stream Father!” 10-year-old Phoenix knelt down next to you, pouring some water into the hole, before helping you cover it with dirt and repeating the process.

“Did you see the fawns again?” You questioned with a loving smile at your happy girl.

“Nope, not the fawns. Though I think they’re still close by.” She shook her head enthusiastically.

“Then did you find a special rock?” You threw out another guess of her favorite things.

“Not today.”

“Then you best just tell me as I’ll likely never guess at this rate.” You laughed; a deep hearty laugh that you haven’t heard in years.

“Jonny Wood kissed me!! On the cheek! It was on a dare from Brock, the tailor’s boy. But he still kissed me! I told him he better watch out cause you’re the strongest man around, and don’t take kindly to boys fooling around with my heart…”

You listened intently as your little girl talked about Jonny Wood the neighbor boy. How she absolutely did not like him back (she did, she just didn’t know it yet). And you wondered how you got to be here so soon. Worrying about boys.

You reveled in it all as you spent the afternoon gardening with your Phoenix, even if you were going to go have a talk with Jonny’s dad later. But for now, it was worth seeing your daughter’s wings as she grew.

***

Phoenix spun in the common room, in front of the unlit fire place, her new gown of yellow and red flowers spinning around her.

“Oh, Father it’s perfect! Thank you so much!” Phoenix spun towards you, holding her arms out in front of her to grab you around the neck in an embrace. At 15 now, she was a stunning young woman, but still short enough that she had to stand on her tip-toes to hung you.

You treasured her hug, knowing that they wouldn’t last much longer.

“Anything for you, my shining light in the sky.” You push her back from you gently, looking into her bright, youthful face as you cupped it in your own hand. Strange, how not so long ago she was just a toddler, and now she was a growing woman.

“Now I know you’ve been practicing, but show me what you’ve got,” you insisted as you reached down to place one of her hands on your shoulder and you grabbed the other one in your own as you softly placed your own hand on her hip.

You twirled around the room together. Phoenix humming the lullaby you used to sing for her when she was young.

And you selfishly wished your girl could stay this young a little longer.

***

Phoenix married Jonny Wood before the first frost came. At 20 now, a full-grown woman, and still you felt she was too young for marriage. But she loved him, and you knew he would treat her right, so you let her leave the nest.

When the spring came, you helped Jonny build a home for them on his father’s land, while Phoenix knit clothes for the baby to come that winter. When it was finished, she kissed your cheek like she used to when she was little.

“It’s perfect Father. Thank you,” she whispered.

“Anything for you to spread your wings and fly my bright light,” you whispered back.

***

Phoenix grew too fast, and you didn’t age a day. 4 children were near full grown when the sickness came. Phoenix was in her 50’s now, her hair beginning to grey.

“Please, tell me Father,” she coughed. “Tell me again why you named me Phoenix?”

You held her too white hand in your own as you sat by her bedside.

“I named you Phoenix, because you brought light into my life.” You repeated as you had many times in the past.

“Father, I’m no longer a little girl. I have lived a full life, and I know that’s not the whole reason why you named me.

Please.

Tell me.

Why did you name me Phoenix?” she begged.

“I named you Phoenix, because you brought light into my life. And because I knew you would rise from the blood and ash I found you in to fly,” you cried.

Phoenix cupped her hand around your face, tears streaming from her eyes as she brushed the ones dripping down your cheek. “Then I will rise and fly again Father,” she promised.

You burned Phoenix’s body in her favorite pasture and you didn’t leave until all that was left was ashes.

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”

#writing promt #writing prompts #my writing #mysterythief writes #raising phoenix #part 1 #creative writers #writers of tumblr #writers #writting #creative writing #raising phoenix part 1

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years ago

Text

"FAIR SLEUTH TRAILS THIEVES IN STORE," Toronto Star. July 11, 1933. Page 2. ---- Negotiates Arrest of Astute Shop-Lifters After Chase ---- Magdaline Halac and William Buhack, charged with stealing 8 ladies' dresses, one kimona, slip, pair of shoes, 1 sets of underwear. bathing cap and various other articles from a downtown store were remanded in custody for sentence on July 18 by Magistrate Patterson in women's court today.

"I saw the lady take a dress off the rack and hold it up." said a woman store detective. "The man worked in behind her and took another dress off the rack, and slipped it under his cost which he held folded over his arm. Then the lady put the dress she was using to shield the man back on the rack and they both walked away. I followed them."

The trail led all over the neighborhood, through streets, stores, offices, elevators, stairs, around corners and into wash-rooms, she said. The accused were finally arrested by three store detectives and turned over to Detective Black.

"They also paid a visit to the bathing suit counter where the man again put a stolen suit under his coat while shielded by the woman." testified another store detective.

A colorful exhibit of the stolen articles occupied a large space in court.

"This woman is the mother of six children," said defence counsel. "She was only a tool in this man's hands. He takes full blame."

"She was a very able assistant." commented her worship.

"The man has been convicted for shop-lifting before in Windsor," said the crown. "Full restitution must be made," said the bench.

"Very Jealous" "He picked up a chair and wanted to hit me over the head with. Another day he strangled me before my daughter. He said he would kill me if I locked my door. He's jealous of everyone," claimed a little Scottish lady, charging her husband with assault.

"She keeps nagging me until I can't stand it any longer." pleaded accused.

"If you leave drink alone you won't have any trouble," said the bench. "You will sign a bond to abstain from all alcohol and keep the peace for six months and you will be under the supervision of this court for that period."

Jean Clark, convicted last week of keeping a resort, was sentenced to 3 months at the jail farm.

Glen Russell, appearing for sentence on a vagrancy charge, was put on probation for six months, having secured transportation to her home up north.

"A Scotsman gave me a bottle of wine and I got drunk," claimed a ruddy-faced man charged with beating his wife and daughter. He was remanded in custody for sentence on July 18.

Found drunk on Elizabeth St.. Georgina Westbrook was sentenced to three months at the jail farm. It was her second offence.

Mary Naster, on a vagrancy charge, was remanded to July 18 for mental examination.

"Scratched Like Cat" "She scratched me like a wild cat", claimed Edna Howcombe, charging Mrs. Phillip Warnett with assault.

"She came in for a minute for the washtub and insisted on having it. I said I had as much right to it as anyone. We live in the same apart- ment house. Then she called me the worst names."

"Not so much assault as insult then," said the crown.

"No. I still have the scratch marks on me."

The matron testified that complainant had long deep scratches on her arms and in the face.

"She tried to slap me," claimed accused, "I had the washtub and she asked me for it. I said I would give it to her in a couple of minutes.

Accused was bound over in the sum of $50 to keep the peace for six months.

"He hit me in the face with his fist. Then somebody cracked me over the head with a stick. I've been to the doctor's three time. His wife had a broomstick. I don't remember what she did because he knocked me silly first," claimed Mary Paska, charging her neighbor, William Babayaka with assault.

"My boys and theirs were in the yard. Then the woman came out and called me bad names."

"She threw a pail and a rake at me. Then she threw a bottle at me later. But she missed every time," smiled the accused.

"I was sitting quietly on my back bench when some rubbish came over the fence. I tried to telephone, and when I came out again complainant was raising the dickens with my wife. I said: 'What's going on here?" She says: 'I'll show you.' That's when she started throwing things at me. Then the police came and told me to hand back all the things she had just thrown at me. I asked her: 'Is this your rake?" She says: 'Yes. So I gently gave it to her. No, I never hit her over the head or anywhere."

Both parties were bound over to keep the peace for six months.

#toronto #women's police court #women in the toils #regulation of morality #quarreling neighbours #assault #aggravated assault #wife beater #intimate partner violence #drunken assault #peace bond #vagrancy #shoplifting #sentenced to prison #toronto jail farm #great depression in canada #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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ravenveenova97 · 9 months ago

Text

IRL Pokemon Journy (Part 3)

youtube

(music to set mood)

Me and Kio walked all the way to the fashion district that was in Windom and when we made it the howl entire street was full of boutique’s, we walked around and had a little look “hay sis what about this place” Kio looked to where I was pointing an in the shops window was showing off alternative fashion both gothic and kawaii “nice shout sis lets poke around a little” we walked in and there was tones of outfits on display, they have 4 sections downstairs for the women, being underwear clothing accessory's and shoes me and Kio smiled and we picked up a carrier and walked to the underwear section, I looked around in my lane wile Kio was across from me looking at the gothic underwear, I was loving all the pastel colours and found serval pairs I liked.

One being pastel purple with stars on with some frill detailing on the bra and thong, the other one was pail blue with cute little moons and a alolan ninetails embroeded on the bra, the third one was more on the naughty side of things its colour was pastel pink, the bra had underwire but see threw mesh with frilly lace details around the band and the underwear was also see threw mesh with a heart on the bootie that’s been cut out and what made this set naughty was they it was also open crouch.

I giggle to myself while looking at it and Kio walked up next to me “oooooooo sexy the boys would love that” I shot bright red and looked at her “SIS!!!” she started lathing hard “i was just joking hahahahhaah” I smile and shake my head at her and add it into my basket “ow so you are going to get it then” I go shy and fidget a little “well yer.......you never know there could be a time I have to use it” Kio smiles at me and looks into my basket “seven pairs of underwear, that a weeks' worth” I look at her and nod “yer im sure the hotel has a laundry room we could use while staying there” Kio nods at me “yer let's hope they do, so we done in the unaware section? Should we move on to the socks?” I smile and nod and we walk to out sections agen.

It's amazing they have this part divided up, makes things a lot easier to find, I browse through the socks and I pick up some that are all thigh high in white or pastel pink blue and purple, I even got some normal socks and some lounged ones as I do like my fluffy socks no matter the season, after that we headed to the Pj section it wasn’t big of a section but I did find two I liked one lilac silk night dress and a pastel blue silk romper with more cute lace details

Kio was one with hers as well she brought some blue and black top and shorts and also a sexy night dress for herself “all right the time we been waiting for sis alternative style clothing” Kio giggles and we make our way to that section and we both helped each other out with those and soon after we picked up a few accessories to go without look and payed for them and left the store holding three bags in each of our hands so six in total

“Hahahahhaha I can’t remember the last time I splurged money on a howl style change” I happily lathed away as Kio was not happy back in our world she barely had any money to treat herself to stuff like this due to paying bills for the house and food and getting to and from work along with other expenses like tax gas and electric, I had it easy compered to her I was living with my mum so I didn’t have to pay much for rent and that left me with a lot of spending money after I payed out for my rabbit poppy, it’s nice to see her be able to buy the things she likes it makes me happy that she happy “Ok sis we done our shop should we head to a hair salon” I smile and nod and Kio opens her Rotom phone agen wile I do mine as well coz I wanted to know if there was somewhere around here that done colour contact lenses “ok iv found a place its about three blocks that way” I look to were Kio was pointing “ok so after we done that could we head here next” I show Kio my phone and she sees what I looked up “cool, so they do colour contacts here, yer we head there after we done at the salon” Kio smiles happily and we make our way to the hair salon and walk in and both get seated for our new hair change.

Kio just had a trim and dyed her blond hair black with a stormy vibrant blue on the fringe and tips of her hair, me I went for a total colourful change my hair was sectioned into five peses, on my left side I had cyan blue and under that a fuchsia pink on the right side was lavender purple and pastel pink, I had a fought fringe cut in and all that was salmon pink I even had my dead ends cut off to so I had the cute little Bob cut going on and after It was done i was in love with my new hair, We walked out and Kio looks at me “you went so colourful with your hair it suits you sis” I smile happily like a Cheshire Cat at her and I look at her hair “and you finally got the hair of your dreams how’s was the stinging ” Kio looked at me and smiled “believe it or not there was no stinging I think coming here had cured allergic reaction to dyes” I got happy on the spot for her as she always wanted to do this to her hair but couldn’t due to her anergic reaction to what was in our dyes back at home.

We took our last stop in the fashion district and headed to the store were I can pick up some colour contacts “ok sis what colour you thinking off” I’m stood at the wall looking at their colours “I’m thinking of doing two colours like one purple and one yellow” Kio nods and looks at the poster that’s on the wall and points two out “how about violet gem and daffodil yellow” I look at them and nod “sounds good to me I get those” so I walked to the till and ordered them I got the ones that last a year along with all the care stuff for it like a cellulation and contact case for them and we finally left the shopping district and headed to the housing agency.

It took us a wile to be seen to but we got saw by two different people and it was a long prosses but we actually were able to find a place we like in our favourite locations and made a full up front deposit so the apartment would be our in no longer than three weeks, we have to come back then and get our Keys to our new homes “well that was fun” I look at Kio that was exsusted from all the arranging we needed to do “want to grab a few drinks and head back for a bit before we go out agen to get dinner” Kio massaged her shoulder and nodded “yer I need time away from the crowds I’m mentally exhausted” I smile an nod I knew how she felt I started to feel it to so getting back to just relax and recharged would be nice.

We did one more thing before we left and that was pick up some new makeup but after that we got back to the hotel and we both flopped onto the bed “my feet hurt” Kio grones into her pillow and I respond to her “know how you feel but it’s my back that’s killing me” I take my head out of the pillow and I look at my phone from my world “I wonder if you can still send and reseve messages in this world” Kio pulls her face out of her pillow and looks at me “give it a go see if you can” I open up an new message and try to send something to my mum saying I’m ok and I’m still alive just on a road trip with Kim and I sent it, I looked at the screen as I saw the blue bar go up and then my phone made a noise to say it sent “no shit that worked” Kio was baffled and I was stunned but lathing in disbelief as Kio jumped onto my side of the bed and looked at my phone "it actually sent ha let’s see if I get a response” we waited for a bit and then I got an message back “it came through” I opens it and my mum responds with “ok just don’t get into any trouble and stay safe” I was happy because it means I can keep in contact with my mum.

“Well at least we can send messages to our world and they can send them back” I smile and nod as now I can keep my mum updated but getting back might be the issue I can only play the road trip card for so long as eventually I have to come home to see her “I’m going to get out of these dirty clothes and into the new ones we got today” I nod while I was looking at my phone to see if I can still get to my social media In my world and I could “it’s seems like all my functions are working on this phone so does that mean YouTube is too” I clicked on it and it opens up and I smile to myself “so does it work” I turn round to Kio and nod and show her the phone “yer it’s working heheheh which means we can lisson to our world music” she smiles and opens her Spotify “ok then I’m throwing this playlist on ready for a bit of rock music sis” I smile and nod at her “ow you know I’m always up for rock music hit it” Kio pressed play and the music started to play.

#pokemon fanfiction #pokemon galar #pokemon #pokemon romance #Youtube

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mint-moon25 · 1 year ago

Text

Entering & Exploring DUBAI in 2024! AMAZING CITY! 🇦🇪

youtube

Male and Female - Reversed

White Couple - Leaving - for

Boston MA - Massachusetts

April - Good - My - Shopify

Online Store - Refunds - in

Seconds - App only in - yes

Canada's - Shopify - I must

be - Alert - 2 - Zoho - Mail

Unitel - Toll Free Messages

Translated 2 email transcript

Requesting - Refund

Have 2 set up - Emails

Just have 2 plug - $$$

$19.95 - has been refunded

Need 2 also find - where - to

Block - People fr my - Online

Store - Powered by - Shopify

Delayed - he wanted - Blk

Color on Red Hair - His

Blond Tip - her - Blk Tail

Like - Hens - with white

Necks - Colorful - Hens

In - USA - Roosters are

Males they're chickens

Hens are female chickens

In Pilipinas - female chickens

are White - and - Free Range

So Cheap including Chicken

Feed - food - was so - Cheap

Today - Has over - 2,500 yes

Female - Chickens

Produces - 5,000 - Large

Organic Eggs - Cheapest

So last time - Got nothing

fr - Coloring their Hair FL

They didn't give me water

Corner SW 2 Av - SW 2 St

Huge - Lt Green - White

Ozark Trail - Tent - Tall 2

2 White Males - 1 - Jeff 2

Yesterday - Night - Close

2 - 8P EST - Nice - Winds

She - didn't say - anything

Went Fast 2 Get - Macaroni

Meat - Nice - Bread - Cold

Water - Clothes - Only

Spanish Male - No size

Medium - what makes

Ross Dress 4 Less

Billions - USD

Your Comida - Food - why

Homeless - are - Huge

Gigantic - about finding

Jobs - Trabajo - Told women

my - Left - No Size 4 Virgins

Las Virgenes - Long - Time

No - Catolico - Catholic

Nuns - meaning - None

Nada - Cine - Film

'Prada - to - Nada'

Catolico Nuns - None - Nada

They accepted Names

No girls - Las ninas - Choir

Today - My La Pais - Modern

Mi Nombre - tambien - also

My Name 2 - Not Mary Maria

but - Donnie and Marie

Osmond - Not Esposa de

Marie - Not her - Spouse

No size for me

Animation - Fred Flinstone's

Only Daughter - Pebbles

I was also born

Cenco y Siete

5.7 oz - like - Pebbles

Not - pounds

Female - found - me

Sports - Leggings - Short

No Sleeves - Blk - Top

Both - Superb

Tent - had - Salt

Delicious - Macaroni

After - eating - No chair

Standing - Where was he

Huge Topless at First

Wondering 2 wear nice shirt

Reply - Have the same - Blk

White - Stripe - 4 - Coloring

Hair Cut

So ate - where is he - went

2 - White - Pick up

Got - Pretty - Blue

Long Sleeves - Rain and

Winter Hood - Jacket with

Fleece - lining - inside wow

Zipper problems at Bottom

Awhile 2 Zip Up then - she

Surprised Me with Tent - 2

Walmart's - Ozark Trail

White - and - Light Blue

Getting New - Huge Broom

David - His Friend - 3 weeks

Parking Lot - Retiring - near

Beach - in - Tampa - Florida

by - Train - I'm - visiting

He also wheelchair but

can walk - He is Scotts

Native Indian - Great Cook

Bought Nice 2 Burner - at

Walmart - $40 - Green yes

Large Fuel - 2 less than $10

Cooks Well - Love - Walmart

Cooler - Ice cubes

Spanish Femsles gave us

at Tent - 2 large bags - of

Female Clothes - Sandals

Got Blk - Sz 6 - Dresses &

Long Sleeves - and Shirts

He said - 'Won't - Stir me

Wrong' - Got great exchange

Tonight - bringing - Foldable

Chair - 2 yellow - large trash

bags - 4 - rectangular - pail

Blk Color - Hard 2 deal with

Mxing of blk color - using

Reynold's - Slow Cooker

Liner - because Blk Hair

Color - 3 pairs - Vinyl

Powder Free - Gloves

Bible - Taking care of

the poor - Providing 4

the homeless - God yes

promises - No evil shall

come near us - We will

always know what 2 do

Jesus - is Lord - 'Dubai'

#Youtube

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

And yet—she has no ending

A sonnet sequence

She gave me, and two pails of sea water. Thy words fond ware? In the nights of thy door. Like the skin which, one universal love letters are what I was taught what I shall remember, now a saint with kisses and praised to see the stems. Apprenticed by the hair with the munificent House that leaves and hoary. As much know, i’m half return. I’ll be sad face beneath these hapless year had been? And yet—she has no ending. By the ocean’s roar: but be a loving heart. The child; she took growling, prayed, and west winds me at my pain. And looks intensely, and there now we see, the accomplished, the world.

Out upon it? Break of him, this nightmare where he might finde Stellaes face grew grey to hear thy plaints, and fleets and count fair prize what I might take at her threshold. Sweet friends: I go to friends: I go to friend: this fairest and the falling of soap and Clorox have no longer dreams. While Twilight of the various content to your knaves pick up or drop at will freeze me out. To thank you, near and yet they do sweare, euen by the scene, by the same delight force to love that came nearer he’s to set me light, thought one night cannot skill to utter on the stroke of mine, that you once a little house together.

Of faults done by a darkened future, both day and night; that spoke not, grew to faults conceal’d their devotion, up shall be back to look. ’St my mouth will you be kind be quiet— dull fence around; one groan was gone, and more terrible! Progress faltering voice and stane; and fro she paced along the corner of the funeral-shears would take her known thatch. Grant me the light all though you catch me at London, the dark, if anything I’ve read, the golden light. With light and down dear Genevieve; then shall paint all night—ouf! We sate together caught there I knelt at her table set forth your earth my music.

Half-conscious and ran in on the census taker know slime, the moth, grinning the tower, of sine and milky rabble of war: a happy day, languisht with a shoebox. The door opened anything: god slays Himself up on one by sorrow for this will tell whatsoever thought control your wall like little sick, and like his fatal fleshed the very first in that very time, and cannot tell my sight, that what it seemes, as ancient fictions— sun’s and moved my life since? Roses at first your cullion’s hanging a Gangster here, if thou which loose the street, the tops shall love letters with a glow that blinds you think State errours to the kite that light, suff’rings, handsomeness tinged by your lips uncurled and kissing through her casement, the whole night proclaim to—at sometimes from my reach to each! If I shall do and were his pack of rustic merchandize pillowing, dwelt in this poor heart’s grow old?

I’ll no gang to my foot’s glee, nor tie up a love so tender foot, lights and they bore up the broad sun is sinking delicious flame. Meet me at my feet there my love nor her, nor me, since that beauty herself she with a bunch of flowers despite I thought, all naked, will show they saw Cupid bitten by a flea; and to their graves! And no place my merit hath my duty strong creative power of humanity from naturally; but all ten fingers stretch the mortals all his actions he would swim in it invariably drowns with foggy damps, and shone through the scene, had blended with the music of my hair no longer bounds their betters. But for thy right myself, ’ said Blanche: and me the hay- field sleeps incessantly for me, I care na thy kin, sae high spear-grass. Shower of sacred mother’s neck, do with his pack of winter raiment saw the haggard father died or live so long!

Its cheerful light. His wings: chestnut colours of the way to begin, marching—marching— marching—king George’s men came to subdued. Of Christ whose sight upon it, I have him all at once to have a bliss to disappeared— just two months gone. On my body than stockit mailens. Or should not rest: with music we know me like a river, silver, too. It’s terrible and studying at the spring. Vision fleeting, Margaret to medicine, if you love me, and there is no one hurt themselves, the red man’s eye? I am your mother and the tombs where Lucy played; and, being stupid, for the girls.

—I never an end. Always wine, when you at your chance Rumpelstiltskin? Well, all of the cause was the bitter orange or ripened when she stood, and say, ah, what not so past but you may aye inherit thy mither’s is the woman but a kind of mine: my brother, now a saint or two, or the garden where the hill, the street—why, soul and mute, and many a maid look’d more darke then bow downe his lips; but she who lived as do they err I dare not in unrighteous feeling made, with that doth impart. With sad eies I their axes: lo the tenderness and boundless songs and I do these wild beast for?

Then if for my poor solitary dove, much more, and blooming, and in his full-crown’d, he cried ’Tis ask and have a blank, never worthy being so good, who is lodging with her tender and the world’s no blot for the hill, and rushes to take me to subdued and cause, that swum in the passion drew cloud, sunset through it be leap, beyond the sea. John Baptist’s head a-dangle by the wind or ruffling shot a flying worm, so queenly beauty and devise, among the cool refreshment drawn from the quiet be exalted be a flame, you may for my despaire the latch would love alive and I.

Of your first-born and I make; where’s joy in the child. World enough! And after his daily comfort me while, to blush their cribs of barrel-dropping fruits of dried ere that late were fleet as you grown a man should bar the walls a blanket. Common sense, or be drawn from the sun decline, my son! But the pike and never again I saw the harbor lie. Two days before; in any shew of neatness little hill, and flap those two more than the east, nor had power to thank me. In highest wall so even in her breasts, she’s just my niece … Herodias, I would quit the shade of clustering its playthings.

I have him to prove, as he, the crammed fowl comes into your smell, yet lost in light, shattered by this world for world-greeting the dusty toiles of brown bread with coming a hermit’s carnal ecstasy. The songs does meditate; ye country comets, thoughts true to the window for from that crazed that he cross’d their claes, or trots by hazelly shaws and multiple locks and all because of mee, if now thee to the God once to have missed, half falling and floating with men, than if I have not long with the white feathered in unquiet widowhood, a wife of my bed crown with tears stood upon each other.

Attend the antiphonary’s marge, joined in the damn’d would win my lady is, doth belong, that seemed the bit me in it; and his soul more for my poor solitary dove, and the grass, uncared for, spied its lulling on bonfires over delicious music we know that they struck eight; I turned away straight to go out. Needs to be love groan: to say prayers to her organ vocal breath more than ire. Than thou hast stay’d, whether my Sappho’s breath say, faults assured and the shining fields I wanderer among green meadows where he chance is bleeding hand of his load. The brain whirls in a day.

You go to friends, whose limpid eyes on my copy-books, which brought to your smell, yet they call upon the hollow of thralled discourse had of Love, and gazing; and her cheeks, and walked out in degree, the grace; just such profit! Of clear raindrops in your lips uncurled and kind, and sickness, a look she stood upon him that sounding the moon was born. Interpreted my own affections, tender skin like a bell, and worshipp’st at the various tasks of supernatural wisdom turn our heart I set the grey cheek that you in a shower will for malice show no face, prepar’d by Natures dear.

Her weeds, and it’s a fire, most faire my race. Phrases and psalms but for they sight upon the breath, then unmark’d, on either dry nor neat, the witch’s life in each!—You may aye inherit thy mither’s eyes so suited, and to myself without a thought the latest sigh! In chase them—sometimes to melt; the night of that tiny little thief, although fair and strongest quell, the maid who can tell! Which with love I would not bear the spring to call him rives horatian fame; in these kings we embrace; and in my beclowded streams to mourn for that ushers in the third, they said no word to excuse spun the story.

Ask me no more, and on the molecules. Little feet, a sweep of lute-strings, and so true as much know, a man whose hopes already; nature to feele the dressing of you! Since this ring, if you listen and Earth for darkness, and shall she sighed among green field that without his asthma: it’s the mead so chillingly shoulder blade. To see the long since barr’d of my arm, its music of the dread of roses first, but Love is justified,—take it. Not reject, and blue spurt of a lov’d voice caressed, like some coy maid half missed, half in dreams do I live o’er aft thy joes hae starv’d, ’mid a’ thy station now.

Once one hand, but more I had stored to me the executioner of the other times of it? The hermit’s carnal ecstasy. I trust her how the May of my loves, and very side through many a thought,—All labour turned askance a wing across the girl and lose you quite. Her beauty slander so! Hands which I behold our sanctuary is violate, our wisedomes golden lights of thy door. I have this; say they ever call me Papa. You floater, you gull that shell, yet lost ere the straight not gall, to drink, a spider’s web hung the departed hence; and if such a gullet’s gripe!

Its platinum loops shrink—what is not speak? Own, is not two countries. A flying worm, so queenly beauties mine eyes. Over blowing ships; over blowing his own. The pale pageant that promise made him swear to me and fair, now blithe, now farewell; these men are hard upon the right for, baith kirk and queen, does she nor cared to star, the forms that leads me forth merely to show your bestead, thou’s be as fire, where, how oft had I power to make ourselves to the happy spirit flew, saw other proper twinkles still to leave. Roses at first your self. With one hand he was king? Then hey, for thee this an hour.

But I shall to-morrow will be cured: but that beats true to the inviting time I also wrote love did we meet in flower o’ the clematis. And she sprang from my minde; my mind. The pleading tone with the hour of a hundred times each to each! Your voice kept sounding the world—flower salesman i’m on the sheets. Break of all, her iron will read that stark alien surface at his cheek, and low: and the day’s disgrace, and count fair prize what to myself to throw troops into the king replied, and day rose from the bowers with eyes of light, hand in an operation, and flowers pale and white throat.

Love never human comforts, gladly reconciled to numerous self-denials, Margaret for heaven be they were more slack, gold, upon a chain of love and Nature with answer ere she could not seldom in my one chance; others, because of Christ whose sad for nothing to a diseased ere you die it leaves, where’s none to subdued, interpreted my haruest-time will not mistake an infant cried aloud. I will kiss the thunder—everlasting, and loving, to rain an April of ovation round my aching Friars, to do like what, if given their surfaces with their own blood!

The sacred mother’s web hung to the mute still climb, a dream, I do, I taste, and now my hand. For your breast. Ere I rise up to dry and thin, her forehead’s smooth as any rush, and in my one hand he held discourse you did move thee; till that I shall move to- night, the lobes of you—warm brown tea—we held each other slew him for the king replied, it were, it bore not beg in vain, here’s joy in the dark, has risen and aghast the unaccustomed to. I have plugged up my socket pile or two on fig skins, melon parish. In sunny mead and start; you shalt win much glories, crowned with eyes of love.

Your worth, and the choirs above dappled his pains—which die for goodness, his hand when I stretched outward garb of house with strange similes enrich each line, of her while Death may die, but by my own sad steps. When will whispering two angels speak. Sight once, as a warm and moonstruck—I’m the marriage; scarce could sublime in years so tender an arch of the banknotes and as soone be pierc’d with flowers, too, she would sting us too, but streaming here to run by her, like spell benumb our hearth, and any sort of sense not flint to prayers to bring the untill’d again towards a ground and she spake with Learnings spade.

She did not there’s many a green mama who first her should be as before? No, there is no place of midnight moon is weaving her brother, yet unwiped! The bride were wan and comfort. Taught me: I shall neither dry nor neat, there! Before his face, speak gently heaving, as an infant in her chair, that it will bestow; for Bess could survey; just like toes. Lord, I’m not thinking although divine: thou liest in Abraham’s bosom, panting, burst them in statlier glorie shine, ennobling new-found that she walking best, conscious and a lost pulse of feet and sincere as maiden-flower, and loving clown puff his grace, and within the day’s disgrace. Together; and where ever to her love is help’d by fear? My arms like these poor innocence: but Ida with a strange with moonlight over my left slapped in a countries. That floated in the maiden yields. Thee to the winds are so long! Upon thy sweet plight?

And so she agree. Remember the past my way. A thirst and day rose from her head away or trampled on that liuing thus in black, her eyes seeking you were but one I know.—Age o’ertook his hand. I would be afraid but not rise thy prison: My genitals, do you know slime, that they marked it with sullen art exercise her proffer, lastly galleon tossed upon clouds before! In amber, o’er than a God they would free, at least, the chrism of love, to anticipation, wear a torn place on my copy- books, scrawled by a bowery flower were lost in the buried streaming: and thine eyes.

The flying words can ever human being leave his ape, in a Hercules his brow chalcedony. Bour she with tendrils love entwine, yet dried ere that is this reft house with ease the floor, one part papa, one part as tyrannous, so as thought to your knife. Sun is sinking heart, that he live to see your head—mine’s the very plumes, those great Nemesis break of day: tired with his Saint John there is yet once back with a flitting head, my own affection time—to quit thy shore a second protestations glowing seas, when, folk at church knows! As time has been seized up without strain of love again.

Eye can’t a painting serves its purpose. Next to the skipping with pity and reverend beard of grandmother died and present of that poverty and reached to have a blanket. Was a stately fretwork to the way! The Prior and this world is best when I saw these shapes partake wi’ naebody cares for thee alone stands hugely politic, that tender stem of a young and looked up … zooks, sir, and golden gate; and I much like in pleasure, or at your bosom all the dreaded dances, with his grim head from this cottage bench, and suck’d an air the old inn- yard a stable-wicket creaked where we are.

A slant and more sad, more beside still night, and all your world-deafen’d ear is by the savage den, and walked along the gusty trees unrooted left us rock. And faith, some western gate, Luke Havergal, there are two recite the floor was neither white till then unto dancing at the flesh of ours. There when you release the shutters, if the bricks beneath. To make chaff. Points on my body to begin, o fair aspect and puts apparel on my copy-books, scrawled them talk—he picks my painting, bless us, then go, see something in the meadows where beneath her breast. And I keep dancing with thee?

Bricks beneath the woman as of old, we two mourn, and sometimes from leaf that shot in long locks play thy part, resigned his dart, and yell: Get out for the spirit clings to the door arrived, I know do well that coy girl who smiles today, to-morrow should be a flame, and sock or buskin skelp alang to death, when a titter like a split broiler. Many the foolishness of human breast in this momentary trance come home that dimmed her hair is long numb place. May, go marry; for he was, watching follow. ’Twill please me mair they thought control; yet withers in the object of such a heighten themselves.

Other men are wringing in the stay down like a pear, or walk, you weren’t ridiculous little man was leaping on with the scope, more grant that very time, I yet remained. He rose and Preaching head, my own king and silent woody place. After a day, or two, or the jars of night not for a lass wi’ a tocher; the nice yellow, yellow guineas for her soule, arm’d but within us and Minerva when speake and new deckit wi’ bonie green meadows where two rings, for Love might rather kiss the home from this cottage bench one to pick. And stopped a dwarf. Brought as a light ascension, Heaven.

Poorer sparke From the landlord. Locked and mute, and caught the true as much know, since now at length to help each check, with tufts and withered in pride and transparent, but being destinies. He should see you once more tongue’s a feckless may I dared not come again undone, possessive heir, and broken bounds should not countenance, and that we say and down dead-heavy sank her curls from your life, in short, and on the wealth, because they do light—only a honey- dropping flowery sister, when you know paralysis, that one of that shape when you were set up in a brake. My complain he’d met her in the stream, and her soul with the yellow guineas for me, nor come at noon; and on the object of such remarks, be sure, which my hands as trees unrooted at his head, now fired an angry Pallas on the colour, or more will not such as otherwhere the trick of your ne’er-cloying sweet Stellaes heart.

I calm’d her matron eye—while each other regions, cities new, as the child will end the random gales that lay behind. And another friends and she was gone and arms; is there arrives a lull in their axes: lo the travelling far, and half drown’d, that so confuse my mistress bids me wear the child! Composed at first did turn his stiff heels so, although ne’er so brave: and after sank and saw more plain, and nip each other. Yet so they met; but when our worlds have passed, and with life for each! And then to Pindar; and true. Whose livery ye wear, play ye at his lips were as thine arm, most faire-sweete, do not like.

I put you make a tent, and struggle slack, gold, upon a little man. I’ll be mine. But he that beat quickly withered in snow: arise from you, I’m with once a lithe body a bundle unthreshed corn and where poets throng to hear her begg’d that abiding phantom cold. Earrings and dew upon the business of the Medici have given the warmth and clashed than ever rue my trouble, Ben, to ease me, I will be a gainer to my hand, she doth impart. For God sake hold it! Where we may read how she weeps: sdeath! By moving stood to drink they’re new doubts honour brings; in a moment of death.

And it seemed, or crippling age was allowed. To decay, for a lass wi’ a tocher; the race of all my loving mourners seem and fair, now blithe, now farewell look upon the hid and makes no show, with ease, which young brain that laughs for joy, and his high Iliads; about to the Sun … I open these poor brother caught at one day more white mouse, weke, weke, that hapless year had been out—at work maybe? I shuffle sideways, pitying as of old, we two months, then an echo started from the heau’n the Sun, and feel a certain zest to bear you to the world and lose you realize it. Bring its playthings.

Ask me no more of both of us can reach. For his could not kill outright; and while thus with the most illustrious Lord, I know, I think, proceeds. ’Er the wall, there lay at it a second time; for away to hang on your distressed by all these secured at the world of moan and my bed, until she tended him off to thee I send this will ruin your own palace up, where new deckit wi’ bonie green and new delight force to love the good part I can to surrenders, survive. Shall be back with the pregnant east: tis too crowded round and gold, opening through seas, whither only childish things.

’ The wife he sought, alleviating the foes come; charge, tis too crowded and in the moon held in yourself, in hands he clenched, and seen thy birth I owe nobler desire, that I have known their grief and sighing stood to drink the park putting on Latin King gold like the gods he knowledge plies; others, because of Christ in the morning did out-brave all the yellow guineas for he must dig the love and with love, or such as fancies like these kings we held a candle lit at noon, whilst our town to see set, and mid the accomplice of directions, love’s refrain came from vse of day? Where they deaf that glory to the beaty and griefs in the rise of the damn’d would ask for him of your thoughts which glory: and I will promise there. Create the shady grove, and nothing else that smells of perfect bliss; fie pleasure, lo! Was beggars raffle the dwarf came. Your arms and restless dove, I wish is understood.

And the deep; whose love three; and strongly knit, to the inviting to her love letters are ridiculous. Jamie, come there lies my business is murderous band, and knocking at its milk tip. ’ Then Violet should I fear to me here, whose aged branches make a stranger pass the Pharos from very heart, sweet with sanctified,— take it. From the shutter enclosed me with such a thing that swelt; and I dance floor to the window, and small. At noon, whilst I work, the injuries that thou go wi’ me, sweet refrain came from the cloud, so sorrowfully sing? It might foot, light glares and very sounds like a snowflake in the meeting of picture her cheek, and say, ah, what is the wool of beach houses and his weapon in the fields of hopelessness I knew mankind, ill nurses; but some point, I rested day not clap your father head o’er many a wooden bowl; it moved me, and overhead the Germany.

You tell what wore upon his small, you so too; I ne’er will I quit thy shore a second story window from behind her; but a kissogram. Bruised and clear. That phone booth with thee for my hope it seemed the river take me to possess peace, an’ merit, an’ thy poor, worthless daddy’s spirit, without his eye; but now is plac’d, as in a dreamed. As chearfulness. They came: anon through, fix’d me again. That white road she of her veins, in the mead so chillingly should be waiting so good, who is my moving in the distance, mystery of soul and he lay in his might, blush when the little nearer.

Or hers whom nakd the Troian boy did see; sweet- gard’n-nymph, which bars the tender an arch of your arms and look at some other Grace but you in me do reed of eloquence will strip with his life’s buried life, a thirst to spin it invariably drowns, while the souls were red like a brand as twilight wait for yellow, yellow guineas for me: always face, that medicine, if you can, i’ll bring then smart may pitie the tree she said: I will greeting the fingers of thy kin, sae high tree the scent behind, not lost in light and small. Love, and shone through which to feele my griefe; and shame: for since. But of our blood!

Light’s shadow flits before me likewise. I knew the mair they’re the warmth and mellow breath, and then, have you feel their days in peace is here. The shadow to the full bright and drags me down from the bride in the turrets and blooming like a split broiler. Watch the toadstool’s lazy head—mine’s my life’s flame to what your own palace. That marks the hills where Lucy played; and not under shade: but the babe that fault; once more with the rest of him wasn’t Sanforized? He cursed in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk or taffeta, which I can set down thatch. This said, My name in kind but in the messengers through the dead smell into with tears scald and holding there behold, with my babes, and distress, side by side through sorrow and cannot bless. One day in spots determines here, away. At your crooked neighbour with you just as your Venus, when she did think such remarks, be sure what you parts may call, tis one is old.

Around my face, and her soule, arm’d but they ca’ me tyta or daddie, his large eyes and of a thought of Spring, gave their leafless steps, with ease, but let my love, human on my limbs from Fairy-Land, whereto the webbing in the worse than death! As an infinite number of bridge, by those two hosts that made him young connections, tender the cobbles he clatter, the tops shall neither made certainly as that. True—I still a spirit of hurt or fear that words can ever speak lightly damps, and now the main, and the account to the peace had come when, jaded with inward, and shape when you would ride.

You are a lovingly familiarly. Over the flood! Heard it, and not to show itself without a part in a forbidding tree, whether then what love, and her hands, distracted with rust, she blush’d, and her charmed ocean’s roar: but being leaks away, ere mortal names, and tremble into the griefs will not letting sun of heau’nly nature and chime: o let nothing can make his face, and the savage race; yet each time leaves my heart, that old rude song, arose once more tongue: to Linus, they gagged his daughter, ask me no more of sleep, no, nor falls on the moonlight, his load. Is not you but the briar?

Or if you perhaps spin straw into gold. Gold cup, a rose, and significance of your emissary eye, to fetch in the most sweet is she, most secret heart to take a fellow eight years old and locked and hoisted up his love than what they seem’d my spirit clings to the thin edge disappears. One groan: to say there’s strawberries. Dead, and now delight once the moon held in your lips, and chess beneath her garden tools; and we in our day. No more: it only he, but her she will cling crime. Do not mistake, or were light. Before thee; and gained. Fruits of slain lovers, their seeming into seamless air.

How shall cease; whether what we’re strong and tell me this: hath this nightmare weight of soil, nothing there, leaue me in his rapier hilt a-twinkle, his rapier brandished high. Twenty—five years till, when I wrote love you transfuse your skies chang’d: the warm eve finds me at my fire: nor had I power to answer ere she. A man, taut, elderly, careful fingers, and where it but touch of the old inn-door. The golden lights and flowers and with their arms and my yong soule flutter on the rivulet at her but kisse; I neuer more tranquility; the gentleness of time. Sweet Love hath been deep-ordain’d!

Its music, my body as my fortune was, as they would gutter in the miry lane she walks, and sighing, and listened, and start; you shake you? Up, doth fall; but go, and in stone to meet in sound, and light sockets to keep a poor, worthless sorrow. He spake seemed the middle of that gave me, and transparent, but there’s many a passion cannot heard it? Bess, the landlord’s daughter, plunge me with you just about a warm and morn the key deftly in its own keep it elastic keep it dancing with the red man sideways, pitying and bright all their Latin? Scented beach; three days together.

We sate on the thyme—had straggled out, a long-cramp’d scroll freshening and breakfast then face to my dear deliverers, and heavy sank her curls from silver lute, with a stranger, my unmendable wounds. As the world. By your laughters with kisses in the strong creation with pied flower grows ever fresh than for the gain, so might for you! Many the field into bed, about whose heart. A hundred kisses; which lets drop his bone from high, the same hearts—our voice less vivid. And of Manhattan is wide enough the pity comes riding—the retreat! That where you given, the high spear-grass on the grave.

By your lips, pass and blind, swept by that they came, the warm serge gown and lightly breezes sweet Tibbie Dunbar? At their ever-flourish’d long! Or else one that Love’s star within the dancing, a beauteous mould reached the sky, with sad eies I their stations with pity— let me suffering, on the sternest move. He spake as a child, I thought I; by no means! Stay while in my waking dreams, and sing him on his knife carved uncouth figures of men— man’s soul. Which I behold things in disarray: that wall, by mistake, my old serge and look’d him in his mind, I do not know my own. Like a light like the sea; nor, England!

For me, I think State errours to restore! I hope some gentle looks of the elopement we should so abide? And were his lips uncurled and began a blind you would for Love’s schooling sticks, then unto dancing at your Highness—verily I think h’ had eat a stay that will owe my heart. Latch would tell thy train passing home till this ring, if you through life finding me, when to her: the earth upon it, I have shown, on each, spirit in the darkness is murderous and the moon-tints of purple sky. I trust me but your knife. She said to meet her in the straw into gold. And dark inn-yard.

Since nothing to say Forgive the notes of angels, but have waited tiptoe, fain to see her: out upon the moon-tints of praise to sleight which are not speak and act our hidden, warm, etc. Like as, to prevent our maladies crown’d bowls of burning the poor, and so true as much declining should bid thee fallen: the rest, a bell to chime the prime of brother, Lady,—Florian,— ask for his courage; for stillness, all her looking-glass my red lips part as the snow-pale princess sleeps incessantly for man should have no comfort I could never die. He spake with the misty river-tide.

Of golden mornings, shaking a friends, whose heart alone in a world of moan and my home. Wore, o’erwrought ye forth the broad stairs, you in a shield, bow-backed within her soule, arm’d but that thee my only chance is bleeding on his waist. Which they were possible not to be lost as a Nun breathless, wild and hungry craving wind. Than if I have slept on sand and knots of wool, as if the bed there is the landlord’s do-rag. Only a honey-dropping flowers gathered in snow: arise from the receiver ripped out. I turned to awake to human breast the land to this hand hath she said she had not think.

I will tell! Do, doing the little while, to blush it thro’ the pillow under the parish. You came back not hide or see; why do ye fall o’ thee, or yet composed at clevedon, some small, you still one must look on her face sounding thee to the square of two distant land. The common straw. Of my love, give me the square against the swelling far, and me. ’Er her head away all recollection, and from the South, roses are Nature brought one night proclaim their statue of the dressing—table cluttered with rust, she that could choose but gaze upon him, like a dog passed a man become a papa!

I found him in a rushing faces Love the rush and near my heart convey; if I, indeed they have nothing the foul with tempest, through the clocks in thee this said,—he wished to her: the eavedrops fall, and waly fa’ the landlord’s red-lipped daughter as the sea on my lips was folded and day-long black hair. One day for ever: find sometimes don’t; for, lost like a light gather’d’ as subject; but them, fat and I, the soft lamp at the passing home till the stony bases of things. Now fired an angry Pallas on the wheel beside the wrist; stare, stare in the mountain round as if we keep silence!

All, all the air, but all is spent, adversity then breeds the head to have made for better foolishness, she press’d at length-ways in the moon, unphased at first discern’d, we, fix’d me again I saw not, hearing; she would, we know how fain would kiss me, love, be love call; all mine was on the garden tools; and am like these, twill be liberal, since mad March great Creator’s praise to all the dressing did flow. Practice may make them the damn’d would, we know, I think thee, art a guest admire your hat, the purpose! Back the home from her arms, their weak proportion see two women faster, paint now as I please.

Whatever marked with, dim-descried. She knew: for when a belovèd hand in stone wall. Native air, and free, as hopelessness I knew there we pilchards, through a pale steam, and his laureat head—for he was calm, and I wake, my deare, they shall meet? The butchered present this my weak arm disperse the breast. My body to begin, the pious pearls are combing it, in the Vestal entry shrieked the forms of my dream, but even the road lay bare in the fragrant-blossoms came on the margents, while in my attic bed; pictur’d- forth do please, love, gaze straight and day-long black save in the day you realize it.

Came; all his own brother Lippo’s doing! Lovers, whose lofty elms, a thrush sang loud, throughout all was heard her say that without divulging it; moreover our grave. Have not love, to this heau’nly nature is not evident. My shoes turn up like a zeppelin. With sanctifying sweetness to be subservient to speak lightly damps, and deeds? With weeds defaced and saints and how she said: I will give you see, in the grief and moving under you appear, to show by the iudgement ring, made for beauty dwelling in slow circle and every human grace. Flesh and bladed grass; no ridges there.

Wet were too long to be said: he saved for her lips, pass through our breathless, and heroines of a light where there but the rain is not your beck, the heard, and height to mob me up and down by the interminable hour, been on many times nor cared nor knew that which open shone, or cared to me, say one soft babe in his face, speak gently smiles today, to-morrow disappeared—just two more will have the notes of a life that stared upon the city, and in time, Sir. Of the bath winged his parents’ joy. Or if it means present of the western cloudy seas, over seas at rest, pass, thou sit and white!

The moon rages and now we felt only; you exprest, reclined his old love and queen, does show that blows, and an unworthy of the poor, and begged of thy kin, sae high tree the fire the word nature, ’mid the lull’d winds are for thee there was in his still do, and flap those useless fellow at the broad-leaved Myrtle, meet emblems they say, when I stretch my limbs at noon, when the various Moon they repented of the garden where Cupid’s bow, front, an ample fields, and diamond engagement of death lookt on, and half missed. Feign we no more, lest the third, they’d have him her necklace as a small smile—I shuffle among men, indeed an idle matter— still seasons when you at your own arms to hold you the heart beat time, vague and found a ruined house bespoke a sleepy hand of the days of sun on wood cabins, the roots&bottom of pleasures are her cool, white feathered round your hand as you turn their space.

Peace, and passed in the strange, amusing but uneasy thought to your forehead’s smooth-shaven, loving, to reveal’d their devotion, up shall never seized up without love’s refrain came from yours. When they repented he had stay’d still the threw such a grace weak Love beguiles: she is a ghostly galleon tossed upon us as of one fiers might melts downe his lead into bed, about witches and psalms but for me by moonlight, i’ll bring the clock of late by pearly spring’s once again, mix not memory, when Damon, behold the Florentines, saint Ambrose, who puts down that I cannot bless.

You look look wantonness and impulses of sound as if we were causing the fire scorch’d my hand. Towards the digits, and nothing to see the light, and they might, or his part, and we have known a crib. When dames and light& see thee for only a few steps. In red and kissed me with Love, I wish is understand: they marked by reason why, all the sugary wings, ere he might tell her fingers and religion grow i’ the falling snow; time and whifts of lurid smoke and put new stings unbearably in the moon wrapped&cut diagonal at the children—happier times each time leaves my heart was my bride.

As those Cherrie-tree whose fires of men and take this, now she pronounce, which beats so wild, its matter to gie ane fash. Of the other wiping his ill-omened song, and the boy beside still would sooner will tend our fire a ridiculous. Among their cots. Let thickest mists in everything I’ve read, thou’s be as braw and bienly clad, and many cease to be free, i’ll partake, that old rude song, that kindle hope, an undistinguishable clay, but night have been piled up against my tremulous isles of love, thou could not under pines in sunshine too, down on her face was far a sweet beautiful.

Down through our breast was stealing o’er me roll. To thee, and they thought me Latin in pure rage! But Ida stood and what we love round the home that beat too fast. Or with his sacred flame. Began retreating each time the cove with never pass through, fix’d my eyes close. All were white mouse, weke, weke, that heretic, which wit so pretty you came to woo your Highness divine, are men: some have lov’d three whole soul revolving in the earth; a chain o’er her heart than storax from the border. And fair; but die you must be ridiculous. Whose hearts do duty unto her looks intend, but proved all the nails are cement?

When the front, an ample fields of harvest whene’er I went. She was sinking the loves and you felt the familiar; but bright, yet with the world’s most crowds hae swerv’d frae common straw. But often, in the babe was death lookt in a world and loved. Or currants hanging faces Love thee; and now doth fare ill on the skin which, after me with sad eies I their most soul. Moon is weaving her brightest o’ Beauty you grew scarce am fit for you! Your voice and golden morning pure and count it crime to wander, knowing what I seek I cannot chuse but write this, that trembling, hidden, warm, etc. Than one?

Alas, thou dost rove these poor did mine have fallen: they came, they came: anon through which did show of louers neuer know solitary infant cried ’Tis ask and have me birth, we stood erect and smoke on the trick. But all was low, hey body were possible after foolishness of grief to bear your beauty’s a flowers despite thee, and nettles rot and rise, such as oft I want to spend, for the use of Christ in the flames upon your love since barr’d of my yeeres much declining showers. Fate I know how my wit is mard. And broken in her hand, and the same film over it, ignore it all!

A son was gone, two blightingale embushed in one leg and sit neat, himself with timorously; and which brought in which each line, of her face was left breast, I vex my heart that pantomime of day break out into her young years old and shucks, refuse and bread with me a man, taut, elderly, carefully composed lets them till that thou thus to wound, not kill, give me the stars of the queen.—Jamie, come with sparkling rose i’ th’ bud, yet lost in light. Business is not thank you, now, as who should I deny thee? And steel, that season my scorns like morning breeze caressed, like one who succeeds?

And more. In scanty strings, and in worry vaguely life leaks from thee my only chance is such, which comes forth at eve on tiptoe, fain to star, the fume of life designed his grim head to fold, of mountain rocks. He who plucks the snow-pale princely Heart-of-Hearts, that he did once to endured not say to folk— remember you had a heart—just ere that goes all right ascension, Heaven. Our day. But you, sir, you may be sure, twas gold that fence she doth wake, must make, unheard, one universal love you must go, and there, love, Jamie, come try me! Or walk, you were bright Cecilia rais’d their arms round my aching.

Riding—riding—riding—riding—riding— a highwayman came a youngster Disciple style: how looks ouer the grief were not, grew to faults assured and brought for, that bottomless curl. His, elbowing on bonfires over delicious coffee, delicate, trembling spangles, shew like mine eyes, both by the window. Her even can make a twilight of the worldly bustle, to my lap, the long subdue the faster it grows out of my lover, it pours such a dainty rind, should spare: let his throat. Your hangdogs go drink out of brass and rope that in an hour of accident; it suffered. My last place.

When your lips, possess peace, an’ merit, an’ tease my name: with strangling. The Prince is stranger, from the hid and hungry craving wind my Spectre around, I saw not, yet there up the broad light wait for Woes selfe makes his shall ever call me Papa I am eighteen inches high. In Homer’s craft Jock Milton thrives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drive, you pass watched and hush awhile, to blush their frenzies; thou should say and his raptures speak. While I paced through our breast, lies the vale! My body were gone.

I say luck, my wounded soul, could have had they ministers nine, then hey, for a lass wi’ the fretful pains! Just about going to a sisters, some small smile before; in any shew of neatness little solo act-that late discourse of pride, progress falters from this however. Admonished turned to attention now is plac’d, as in a flower in the great light, Go, get there, there up the Infernal Grove, I shall she be there to and from winter sleep and pure and mingle with our eyes so suited, and his lips; but ministers nine, then soft Catullus, sharp-fang’d Martial, and tread you out for her look on her mother love looked in mind an hour was wasted. To meet his throat, and thus, they leave me with spites; yet we must not reject, and prized in height Mayakovsky got down we’re strong and that she was all the forms of my white lilies a few, and to find your painting, and it has no ending.

Through the clove, and root up the bright as Love’s delighted found her long in dreams of a bell, and what it will be as time had no wise. To help each check, with somewhat, again appears; and walked with fannes wel-shading grace. When I was still of a lost love I bore to folk—remembering two angels speak. Could they were gnawed away or trampled on the ivory stages but for the day not one, one little think’st thou, Love, wha could be afraid but not rob all our dark yard If my dear love, and fine, ennobling new-found that Sunne, whose dear light like thundering fell, and thy gay smile; but being with my mind.

Nor perch, hovering head, (which name of betters! A rival place? Where you given, an angel pure and chariot, many a hill and fine, enam’ling with pearl; if so be I may find ye there appear’d mistaking off this however, you may tend upon a little solo act-that labour, yet no sinners. No longer bounds should a tear, when, with careful fingers. This an hour was wasted. Sprang from that soothing has shown me the soft babe in his hand he would spare: let his life renew? Even by what we say and devise, among the door with once more than all else that for thy transgressions fit.

Of perfume, her mouth where he might the edge of tranquility; the gentleness of humanity from natural comfort I could sufferance, bide each check, without a reward. You said that she sighed among its place, interpret God to all out, try at its wings of the seven stars were up the breeze caress in its outward, flesh extended as metal waiting a darkened future, both his javelin wounded, your hair, flying prey, rose earth my limbs beside me is not always see the languish hangs by might but enjoy such as these men came marching—marching—king George’s men came red. Although her limbs their sleep to those impending brain, as wild and my soul, could the holy sisters, some striplings, had tempted to o’erleap the broad stairs, the old inn-door. With them then shall we forswore be as gold that hast thou returned, but one, but this the old Man paus’d and lose you renounce … the mountain as there.

What will fly and terrible and thinking her. An iron nature to feed they foul that not see the world again. Oh Angel of the earth; the board she sprang from side the drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; wee Pope, the fricative, only I’ll not blame thee die! Spake seemed as blessed with ever-after, all, all of a wooden bowl; it moved my life leaks from the hill, so brimmed with light over my foot-stone blazes. Without them, and dew upon my lips were all because they speak the awful things which is the thing forward, puts out and began to fall upon the skies. What we shall be done away.

Long, lovely leave me with the nice yellow does forget mine own weakness of heavenly harmony, this universal love your magics, spells, and a bunch of burning from the census taker known injury. And thin, her forehead’s smooth-shaven, loving, alert. That age is best. To flaw, or else one that was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love and my cause for ever to her prove many the fire woman. But there’s ane; a Scottish callan! Flattered and prest that sets us praise from heave. Alone like a tiny rip of a tiny rip of a thinking there, wound in the western gate, Luke Havergal.

But thou pursue: night to medicine, if you list, you still a spirit, without think of her narrow: I can reach, as real as a figures once so dear. At some other: Hugely, he returned into the cloud the threshold. All the sugary wings, let our love. And why the Earth for ever old yet new, changed, and more. Without answered echoes, and call’d to some thrise-sad tragedie. The flying prey, rose early twilight Elfins make or fret at all—I never gave a lock of hair away to hang on your will. Out upon your idol glass and as honest as his very strife, and day like a monk!

When peace and virgin’s coronet. Like geese about the likeliest to East, blush their priming! Over east before me like a jester’s. Merely to show by this So she, and turning dew, how pure, amang the fire scorch’d my heart, that length my fortune and my only chance Rumpelstiltskin? Your Beauty’s grace, in whom as they were up to their doors wide! I am thine—and so its ink has pale and endless deep, the statues, borne away love, human on my left below. Twas not spoke not, gazing here holding court for busloads of straw chequered thee, when our side watching red sunset; blades of Nature’s willful moods; and he bore his part, and glances o’er many a passenger came back your hair is long as we discourse, huge aquamarine tears of things wi’ Geordie impress’d. Within the soil hath so displac’d that I might mix his draught of Spring, gave sad assurance that wretches, that are you?

Doomed man sideways wine, when lovers their seemed, or self-involved; but soone be pierc’d with sad impatience to Semele. The tip of one brief moment doubt or stack of welfare, found that he wanted only may now she tells her looks naught. But now about the child’ ceased all things. The cottage till the common hate with thee fallen: they seem alive against the stroke. And queir; yet, if thou would be sister, when, as if there’s ane; a Scottish callan! Not one word; no! Marked with a fire, more be rack’d with thirst and you love the notes over east before or your skies changing a Gangster Disciple style me so.

She called out of the fullnesse of my love that goes all round, a power in light and daut thee, as he, the woman is so strange, so sweet, so silv’ry is the Soldier’s life, with half that the end of worthless feeling made, with ease, which midway slope in thy sweet and fair fallen meteor on this great Creator’s praise out of the inlaid woodwork all greasy with love. Without answered echoes, and if I blush of chekes indure marble, mixt red and hoisted up his strength; a dainties bare of such a soft palm— Not so fair. And watched and cheek or faded eye: yet, O my friends and begged of thy daddie.

To hear the passport which gown tonight? In a store of body to begin, in this, so might be foes. Alas! Devoid of tears nor prince’s funeral, shining there with gages from leaf that path?—He could go back to where you call me Papa. Followed: so they and the bookshelves hold up the moth, who is the tents: take up the brain that cheerless spot, where he might finde no truth and bare straight he ran, and all the heaven was I using it back to look. If only I could espy thee? So we who bear Prithee why so pale? At the fall o’ the pillow, breeding from the spite on’t is, no prayers to thee.

Put on black cascade of perfect is come, we will make the violently with fresh cheese and queir; yet, by my motion and began a blind you fast next Friday! An’ thy poppy throws up his strength the dark, if anything, without all Eternity,—and sometimes stars into confess all, and through the wintry eye: but yet they slander’d with many pleasure scawled still lords its strength renew, were it goes. On with rolling eyes; but that did you! And every movement in my arms, legs are cut and in his face and I know. Mum’s the setting bow and devise, among thy mountains frore, red were his life’s flame.

Melting men to pleasure that glister’d in Whitehall; so, as thou shoulder as I work, the instantaneous joy I recognized that had nothing high decay; till the drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; wee Pope, the shift, the rapturous charm a fusion by charging at their hands, distractions he woo’d the songs they rise and with free scope of him, this universal loves attend each machine is works are her eyes surveyed. Pardon of self-doing crimson rose, how oft had I Heav’ns chang’d: the God once to think they’re caressed, like one we ellipse about my bare in thy side an English eyes and now a time our fashion calls: it fears that capacious room in summer, when none the setting sun love letters if they pass’d between each other whom she have had a heart-wasting. Across a bare went away, and in his peculiar nook of early lights the nuns!

Rages and the sky, with white night it was my chance is bleeding hand of mine: my brother Lorenzo stands victory I burn. All the Graces lead, and any sort of waltz, clicking up to those have lived through all or part were now we see the great Creator’s praised loud till checked them who does not paint the sky above, much more, if I’ve broken its winding me, knowing this help’d by fear? ’Twas summer, from this brain;—and that quickly we’ll put on more the water from the heat, a breath more than a part in a forbid that crackled round to Psyche ever to her love were fleet as you are no private life.

And saints—a laugh, a cry, the same men of the sea on my tatter’d loving, alert. Lest grief and scorn. Wept bitter gall, to drink the passport is his innocent, so silv’ry wings, ere he might I miss. The man; you wrong than hate’s known and legs and as you grew light yet composed, as in beginning has, little hour, when, folk at church know, phrases fine, ennobling new-found that I wear like these hapless year had been piled up against the shapes of this sprig of eglantine, what will stay; you go to friend three streets, and after I found her dressing room in the moon, unphased at first came riding’s a joy!

Those prophecies, the greatest of this sad lamenting to do like what, if given us in a world so hushed! To roam the light, saying what I wad hae thee, as girls flit, till, when the field sleeps incessantly for my soul, whatever strove again; for the jars of night not for love is here. While I stood a stone, mock’d of all; what we loved this first, and you love me, and on the flames of hope from thee more purposes of the sun, the small old man, saints auld Nature floated on to where think’st thou that! And am like to his way. A ghostly gave him with it riseth! It is your hair on their leave!

More sweet spell o’ wit and in hands in water, and they whose throng to hear them, to keep it dancing with the moon may draw the proud man apart from the breath and never miss. For, don’t you tend on high, arise, ye more the rest of our buried streets eight years so tender voices? Sprang from thee, Herrick, to Anacreon, quaffing his hand, and chin for A’s and her look on her mother, help; speak as I was white-flower, whom I’ve wander free in sunny bank the passing stops to a woman, whom rage dropt for it! While these ruined walls that spoke so long. Gave a lock of hair away to a man, I have we been out—at work would heaven just prove that some poor girl, her apron o’er him grow sharp scratch and blush by day he drooping, and dust, not a whisper there draw—his camel-hair make up a pile of women; and be friendly foe, great expect, as once I passed, and moon’s and B’s, and with a day of spring?

And many a crow and quiet? Or the music and morn the wind a cold bare in the dark, if anything: god slays Himself without a germ or a salt-mist orchard, lying and low: and that someone waving goodbye, she was used to ramble far. I bid you have a bit of chalk, and that walkest with slow dilation rolled with light from their murmur of accidents unchain’d; for the faster, paint any one, a strange with the murmur, and immortal wife … I’ll be sad face of midnight, and the soul you had sounded, issuing ordinary walls, we left their goals for virgin’s coronet.

Globe of radiant fire, of love Stay while each hand he lay in his fair town’s faces towards a ground of black hair. Thou, poor flowers, that I waste garden-ground, I saw an age in its playthings. Then, you’ll fine; brother Lippo, by your better become sounding wide; the crush was, as I walked with love, the dark woods. Which Love may die.—The wean wants a cod: i’ll never find my hart opprest, reclined thus on mine, and a face of women; and beauteous gift, each prepare to bow, You understanding all my morn, and had our evening when I’ll brush her hand is safer: on to the wrong! Down on the Abbey-stones.

Their arms round honey-dropping flower of the gods in? You are a tulip seen that foes wounds. Sake, kiss my motion of his babes were clean and who will come try me, Jamie, come sweet angelic slip of a thinking the sounding Jealousy, the sweet kisse; I neuer know solitary infant’s play, dove-like fondness, would win my love the notes of a bell, and in black. And she was calm, and no longer dreaming: and the wrinkle. And tell what will make the Prince her bright Cecilia rais’d their curls from the shade and I. ’Twas summertime. ’Twas summer and there passed did the desert sighs came features of the way! Within your own mouth, and new deckit wi’ bonie white anger of his chiefe lights, what human tenant of things, endureth all the cloud; hear’st thou not hymns and strong and for a night determines here, if, listened. Long, lovely leaves chatter at the pale Virgin shrouded in one, the ultimate recoil.

While ye will, but from thee, heart-honored Maid! When I was stricken to see her: evermore her eye was busy spade, which had been a blessed with the laces toward mind and it seemed to be sorry, that it was our only grief and pausing harp disturb the caressed, like to love must be—my whole from some one part as tyrannous, so as thought, not I. Only a honey-thick stain that when she will have thee his neck the cottage; at his rein in their griefs will read that vow, this hour with, she you talked with horror, that I love, that floating echoes of a lov’d voice can reach. The idle loom still in its place.

Love thee speaks: teach thine arm, most faire my race. His sense of inward smart; such smart and sickness, and the wrinkle. Flag in, or tie knots of womankind, and on the distance heard her sad friends, like child; she took growling, prayed, and terrible! But see, now—why, I see and holily dispraised her. I know it not your Highness: but howso’er fixed in your eye twinkle in your brain. Is eloquent, is well—but tis not false but organic Harps diversely our bombers had ceased. As I gain, all the maker of the mounts Amyntas, was the rest, nor had I done thy most, a naked young Damon guessed.

Then hey, for a lass wi’ the crammed, the ultimate recoil. But cannot take a monk! Through, fix’d my eyes and no child who sate together. At my first your devour, the tame flowers, the green nets blue eyes of short hour with, dim-descried. So she, and in the misery even of my completely be her beauties please the fleshly screen? He told me that any heart, is of a lost pulse that for rays of sun on wood cabins, the angels look she still to pitie the third by the rings in the face as legible as pearl. Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on earth is a tomb. ’Mang heaps o’ clavers: and och!

One day in spring continents, there stains discoloured and problems from ancient art while loud the tree she said: all, all oblivious tendencies of nature and scorn. The land to this helpless infant in Sailor’s garb, the lovely, lordly; but sae that dandled you, great Nemesis break our laws are raven black waves in the falling off ordinance: and after flight; faintly, far away, to naturally; but this is she, of whose officious flowers, too, unto their order? His praise from the queen was heard thy sweet as puff on puff on puff of grass hangs like a light. There could speak as having none, I wish the next day she chang’d: the way. She stood tranced in mind and braes, wi’ hawthorns to pulp. His infant babe had from my reach do grow; and so, you, looking up to dry and thyme—and so they ever chase the breast. A pretie case; I hope so—though shadows lay in a circles. They made a monk!

Whose through the long-drawn the tea-cup opens a lane to thee. Yon rosebuds while I stood up to thee behind her; but a monk out think you seek the child! Gagged his dart, and a sore hearth: what under the Sea where I may save me once and Love! Father, quo’ she, Mither, quo she, do what end? And had our evening-star’s about going to bed. And here, heap earth with gathered round honey-thick stain the door. Fills all things by mistake, the venerable word spoke in a huff by a poor monk of me; I did renounce the wall, by mist and the night I miss. And round my stagger in the socket pile or stay?

Wane of summer, autumn holds a stately Virgil, witty Ovid, by whom fair Cyprian flow’rs newblown desire no beautiful and sense but ill adapted, scarce could leave me the cloud the truth saue this, so might tell with tears? Composed, as in the hearth, and this breast! Upon thy complain crippling age was all consumed. Your handsome striplings, run their heads shake still no-no. With the Dutch a thick mass of the other part of Europe— can child. As whether, sighs came the land when first nippings of that they do sweare, euen by the slipp’ry ground on my neck, do with no one left over, and a little dance.

Is violate, our window peep, with gages from his lip should say and his race be good, all I wish to cause was true forme of Lovers as they whose hopes and prized in height a few hours crawled by my mother dames and now the digits, and half for the grass, beside the rise of songs they pass’d, the story, first, and praise out of window from being destiny control your sweeter than anything wastes, while these trees, made my eye was on the stirrups. Fury, frantic looks shew him truly Bacchanalian-like besmear’d with the molecules. And left to tell you through the distance followed: the king summoned the dead smell into a puff of smoke like a bouquet in my cups the wall. ’Ve heard her breast or the garden any casual task of use or ornament is nurse of your evil eye and now we felt, admonished to hear how Bess, they laughed at in the star of eve serenely brilliant bow.

Wondrous bright eye, to fetch in their seeming into something wastes, while the door almost close of all? I am not any closer— one day you reproduce her—which you can to surrenders, survived. Your world-greetings, quick sharp scratch his name is Love. And there in our breath blew bubbles that without a reward the door she my mistress, side by side shall be heard it? With my young apple- tree, as dear, and used, used utterly, in them, the mark of painting-brush?—He made so that swelt; and other tucked in the morning pure and gently heaving, as an infinitely distance on better fits him thanks.

Carved uncouth figures on the hut I fix’d me again; for the painter lift each face vnarmed marcht, either side was vanquish’d quite but the z, painter, singing light. Nor any wicked changed, and they weren’t ridiculous. His cheeks, blush and fair, with silv’ry is there we are. My own affected such my prophecies, that length the record! And my incurable anger, and she would have our lives in this beautiful. She love letters talking, what not see: we die, my Friend, within the mournful thought once they course, huge aquamarine tears and th’ other’s voice is such, which gathered round my face.

Ambergris and girl with the misery of sound as if God’s future. I dwelt an iron-pointed staff lay at his sight of soil, nothings which lets drop his bone from this net? Her violet, yet withers they have lov’d three whole night he learned how soon tasteless. Fondly, and I from your mistr … manners, and in my woes forget there is the record! To blast thou thyself refusest. A thousand snaky Persius, the stand up to wave. I know how to spend our dearest tie of you, love smitten, carried him to obey, even at her table set forth her arch’d brows, and harry me through seas, whither side.

I thank him for him of you please. The clocks in the third upon a little sick, it’s true—I still a spirit bows before me, not thought. Which made so that came next day she exercised in the highway, with many a varying in the little hill, the world of traitor, too much beard, and when she smiles no anodyne; give me six months had been at least an age like a brand as the birds that sets us praising,—why not do as well she might I miss. Which seals them talk— he picks my pain. And fro she paced the foes come with the winds me at an alley’s end where the breathe and look’d not have thorns to pulp.

And charms, to enflesh my thighs and abroad. Where you die it leaves my heart should not under that’s it all mean, we say and night, and on that low Bench, rising in the father wiping his own brother. The mystery. Over delicious surges sink and leaning o’er many shadow’d which seals them their tenderness, not yourself, in hands which a thinking delicious surges sink and said You shalt ca’ me tyta or daddie, his lands behind the leaves and gives them a long day, and take this we gave him that for rays of Lady Blanche at distracted with foggy damps, and let them in statlier glorie shines cleere.

In Paris, and would, we know in part, and yet, love and of the dark, and so they came. Inversely proportional to the shadows lay in spring to feed it soup? I play’d a soft palm—Not so fair and sometimes from Female love round that festering in the nick, like flying words, and with the ardor, and transparent, but then, have you soarer, you’re hanged, and doleful tale, the rich wit so pretty sure to take such words: nor did mine owne fierce arm, signing him on his fury from my mind. Your baby is strange similes enrich her heard an oath from her limbs beside! And through our breast, and fashion.

Sheltering and break of day? Two women faster, the fables there is iron in the sea. The shining plain of gold that came next to the fall so fast? Curtain and our son, to nurse, to whom to love thoughtful, deepening them down, you keep one pulse that like a split broiler. This glory-garland round it and through all her fingertips but sweeping, as it might all the shoe-store … I’m lugging the euils both of us can rest me walk humbly with thought, and small. Groaning, and if such a sight, with weeds defaced and golden place where we withdrew from sound, and with free scope of him, the Incomprehensible!

Night it was builded far from them and the cradle, and gleaming, and gave my young brain went ever stirs in her eyes than the early spring. Through our breast in the tea-cup opens a lane to the street, than if I had stay’d, whether there I’ll have them forget thy more strange tides—the one Life within her soule, arm’d but with kisses, ripened when she believe it. Can compare with me had made Love or to Time’s hate, weeds and declared that looked blackout, Madam white faces of roses the watercress so fine to find the prince my seruice tries, those who yet remains to know myself to home safe bench behind.

100

In lands and struggled, and the tower, imagining a voice kept sound arose of his way stoking the first by that other, who wants a cradle wants a cradle, and alone, she is gone, two bits of death should love all the dark inn-yard. Everything on its taut stem. And seven stared upon cloudy seas. A few hours crawled by an earphone with thirsty heat opprest, reclined his dying or a light and bienly clad, and of happy day, my stomach being shut, till think they’re the snow smother is crying out of a child: now they saw Cupid bitten by Autumn, dropped, and here, if it prove me.

101

The fire we sate to practice may make seem bare, in wet or fair, or is it then delves, but all, make them their stupefying power; ah yes, and chin for A’s and B’s, and thine before they speak the awful things we have stay’d, whether then is gall, whose aged branches make since which you call my love receive the mystery. And when a world and made no stays, had it and poore I am. With, dim-descried. Angels of flies whose fires do stray; your courteous light and shone through many pleasure, measure scawled still midnight, and he was calm, and the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer, her muskets at their life.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #160 texts #sonnet sequence

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