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ladyhistorypod · 4 years ago

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Episode 8: I’m Holding out for a She-ro

Sources:

Ida Lewis

Thought Co

Atlas Obscura

Smithsonian Learning Lab

Archive.org

Traditional Music

Further Listening: “The Memory Palace”, “The Eyes of Ida Lewis” by Reg Meuross

Selena Quintanilla-Pérez

Smithsonian Insider

National Portrait Gallery

PBS: Latin Museum USA

CNN

Biography(dot)com

20/20

National Museum of American History

Sábado Gigante

Interview

Further Reading: To Selena, With Love

Rose Valland

Rape of Europa (documentary)

Monuments Men Foundation

The Collector

WideWalls

Statue “of” Rose Valland (image)

Attributions: Airplane Seatbelt Beep, Sailor Song, Spanishy Guitar Thing (that’s the actual name of the file), French Horn Sounds, Trio for Piano Violin and Viola

Click below for a transcript of today’s episode!

Alana: We were talking and I was giving Lexi like things that she could cut from episode six and I was like you can cut just like most of me talking and let someone else… give them, give everyone a break from my voice. And then Lexi was like you're our fearless leader though and I was like no. I'm scared of everything and I just love listening to myself talk, that's what the deal is here, that's what's happening.

Lexi: The fear doesn't come across. So.

Alana: Oh that's good. I wasn’t on TikTok because I don't go on TikTok because I don't have a TikTok because I don't get it. But I follow an account on Twitter that just posts all of Hank Green’s TikToks. Apparently there's like some dance challenge, I bet, or something, I’m making an assumption, where you like put on your shoes or something, and I don’t know. I don’t know. But he was like leaning over doing something with his shoes and then he threw his shoe at the phone and yelled “do your homework” which I thought was very funny.

Haley: Are you gonna talk about Hank Green every episode?

Alana: Yes.

(Haley laughing)

Alana: I wish he was my dad!

[INTRO MUSIC]

Alana: Hello and welcome to Lady History: the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. It's time for my favorite Zoom meeting. Up in the top left corner is Lexi. Lexi, what's your superpower?

Lexi: My superpower is writing essays the night before they're due, not double checking them, submitting them, and then having the professor say wow you're a great writer.

Alana: And down at the bottom is Haley. Haley, what would your superhero name be and why is it Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots?

Haley: Ugh. I really, I had my super power all ready to go and you switched it up on me. Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots was something off of a whim. That was like a gut visceral reaction to my super power name. I guess I'll stick– I don't know why it's that long. I have a really long last name. I love short and sweet names. I hate that it’s Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots.

Alana: I need to– we need to like keep bringing it up so that we can have Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots merch someday.

Lexi: Please if you'd like to contact Haley write to our podcast.

Alana: We cannot stress this enough. Even if you don't have anything to say, send us a DM and just be like this is for Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots

Haley: This is why I can't speak freely and… I don't know. I can't have nice things because then I say crap like that.

Alana: And I'm Alana and I watch blockbuster superhero movies the way they were meant to be seen; on the tiny airplane screen on the back of the seat in front of me. Or at least I used to.

Haley: Alright. I have a question for you all. What is the definition of a she-ro?

Lexi: A hero who uses she/her pronouns?

Alana: I love that. I think I'm gonna second that. Yeah. I'm also gonna say like people who were overlooked. I know that's like our whole podcast is like people who were overlooked but… That's– that's how I feel.

Lexi: I'm holding out for She-ro.

Alana: Holding out for She-ro. Til… how does the song go I don’t even know.

Lexi: Til the end of the night.

Alana: Can I tell you the first time I heard that song?

Lexi: She’s gotta be strong and she’s gotta be tough.

Alana: The first time I heard that song.

Lexi (high-pitched): She’s gotta be fresh from the fight.

Alana: For reals.

Lexi (somehow even higher-pitched): I’m holding out for a she-ro!

Alana: For reals the first time I heard that song? Shrek 2. Dead serious.

Haley: Yeah. I think that’s… I think that’s the same for me too.

Lexi: No the first time you heard “Holding out for a She-ro” was right now when I wrote it. You may have heard a different song.

Alana: The original song. The original song.

Lexi: This is parody, therefore it's protected under parody law.

Haley: She-ro on the oracle that is Urban Dictionary has like two top definitions in their like first thing that comes up. The first one is a woman or man who supports women's rights and respects women's issues. The second is female hero, basically saying he as in hero and it's like Greek and Old English rooted words going into all that, we're not here for, it's not fun. The fun part is just how someone put in she-ro as an obnoxious word built off the word hero but in the same breath is like a man or woman who fights women's issues and then truly just like a whole mix of how this word’s obnoxious.

Lexi: Thoughts; I hate the term women's issues.

Alana: Me too.

Lexi: That makes me sick to my stomach.

Haley: Yeah I don't like it either.

Lexi: Second, let’s edit Urban Dictionary. My definition was better because I don't like either of those definitions.

Alana: Me neither.

Haley: There are like a whole host of definitions and that was me dwindling it down.

Lexi: Like the fact that it says female hero like that makes me upset because someone can be female and not use she as the pronouns that frustrates me.

Haley: Exactly.

Lexi: And then also I don't like the term women's issues that just doesn't sit well with me. You know, I don't like that.

Haley: Also I didn't think of like hero as like he I always saw it as H. E. R. so like her.

Alana: So that's why you said her-o in the original spreadsheet.

Haley: I also had a few drinks in me but that's neither here nor there.

Lexi: Also the feminine form of hero is heroine but then that sounds like drugs.

Haley: Yeah that's true, that's also true. Honestly I’d rather be a drug than like a woman. If it– women’s rights or like heroin’s rights

Lexi, laughing: In 2020 America, if you were a drug that was being sold by a pharmaceutical company, you would have more rights than a woman.

(Haley laughing)

Alana: Lexi leave that in.

Lexi: Oh hell yeah I will.

Alana, laughing: Oh god.

(Haley and Alana laughing)

Lexi: So our first she-ro today is Idawalley Zoradia Lewis who was born on February 25, 1842, and in 1854 her family moved to a little island called Lime Rock. It was off the coast of Newport, Rhode Island. The family made the move when her father became keeper of the lighthouse there, and living on a rock meant her and her three younger siblings needed to row a boat back and forth to school on the mainland each day, so Ida became a strong rower. She also learned to swim against really rough waves and so she was just all around really good in the water. In 1858, sixteen year old Ida rescued four young men. The group had been sailing when a strong wave capsized their boat near Lime Rock and Ida, by this time a well-practiced rower, rowed out to where the boys were struggling to tread water. She hauled all four of them aboard and brought them to shore. The event received very little publicity even though this sixteen year old girl saved four people. When Ida was in her teens, her father's health began to decline and he became wheelchair-bound, so Ida had to learn the skills needed to keep the lighthouse running so that her family can continue to run the lighthouse and receive an income. In 1869, a pair of soldiers were on a boat near Lime Rock during a snowstorm and the snowstorm turned their ship over. Ida, who was actually ill at the time, didn't even stop to put on her coat and went out to rescue the soldiers with the assistance of her younger brother. In recognition of her service at this time, President Ulysses S. Grant awarded her the Congressional Medal of Honor. Grant and his vice president visited Ida’s lighthouse to congratulate her and the story about the rescue was published in the New York Tribune. In 1872, Ida’s father unfortunately passed away and her mother briefly became the lighthouse keeper. In 1870, Ida became the lighthouse keeper because her mother was beginning to be sick. At one point, she was the highest paid lighthouse keeper in America. Her mother, who was now at this point very ill, eventually passed away in 1887. There is no written record of the exact number of people Ida saved, but accounts from the time estimate she saved at least eighteen people or possibly as many as thirty-six. Many national magazines acknowledged her for her great heroism and she became a household name in New England. In 1911, Ida is believed to have suffered a stroke. She died shortly after. The city of Newport flew their flags at half mast and thousands of fans came to Lime Rock to bid her farewell. After her death, the lighthouse was renamed Ida Lewis Lighthouse and Lime Rock was renamed Lewis Rock in honor of her 54 years of service. Lewis Rock is now home to the Ida Lewis Yacht Club. Though Ida’s actions and career were considered masculine and caused much debate during her lifetime, she was recognized as a heroine by many young women who admired her. She inspired girls, showing them women could be strong, and save men, something young women at the time likely did not see reflected anywhere else in their lives. And that's what makes her a she-ro.

Alana: I was literally today talking about when I was– when I was like 11 or something we did… my family did like a sort of driving tour of Cape Cod, Connecticut, and Rhode Island and I was literally talking about that trip with my mom on the phone today because it's Sunday, it's call your mother day. So I was like actually talking about Rhode Island today which is really interesting. Like what a weird coincidence. I didn't know anything about her. That's cool.

Lexi: She is a little-named person. She's not frequently mentioned, but she does appear in some historical books, sometimes. Like there's a book in the Smithsonian Libraries that is called like “Women Heroes of our Great Nation” and it's from like 1890-something, like during her lifetime, and it mentions her. And it has a cute little drawing of her rowing a boat.

Alana: Do you have a link to that in the show notes?

Lexi: I do not have that specific link, but I can give it to you and I will put– we’ll put it in the show notes. That link will be in the show notes. It's not yet but I will put it in there.

Alana: I have to see this drawing.

Haley: So this shero might come as a surprise because you might be like why did she save the day? But hopefully the story I tell will kind of steer you on that path. Selena Quintanilla-Pérez, or the queen of Tejano music, was one of the most iconic singers of the late 20th century and a trailblazer in Tejano music. I know I know the theme is “saved the day” and you're probably thinking why Selena? What did she save? Well I basically wrote half a page of this long winded story on why she saved the day in my middle school Spanish class, but honestly just Google the testimonies on how Selena changed the lives of so many people and you be the judge of this whole story. So let’s crack open this history book on Selena. Born on April 16, 1971 in Lake Jackson, Texas, her family wasn't originally from fame, but before fame she was a singer of her family's band Selena y Los Dinos, that worked weddings, fairs, and other venues along the US-Mexican border. And her father was also a musician back in the day, so not only did the kids get the musical talent from him but they also were trained and mentored by him. And you see a lot of the family influence come out and her music later. So funnily enough she grew up speaking English, not speaking Spanish but her father taught her how to sing in Spanish so she could connect better with the Latin American community. And in the HBO 1997 Selena movie with J. Lo you kind of see like how and why Abraham, her father, picked that. And she did learn to speak Spanish fluently because actually rose to fame she had to kind of be in interviews and a lot of these were Mexican broadcasting news organizations, which they were going to be asking and expecting her to answer in Spanish. So her rise to fame, she had to break so many barriers because of Tejano music, which is a style of music that fuses Mexican, U. S. and European elements together, was heavily male dominated. In 1990, her Ven Conmigo album was the first to Tejano album by a female artist to go gold, and in the following years songs like gonna Como La Flor, Bidi Bidi Bom Bom, Si Una Vez and others quickly made it to the top of charts and are still iconic songs. Even on the radio, a few days ago I listened to this. I was listening to some channel and Como La Flor came on and I was like “I'm doing her this is like a sign” because I really struggled to pick a shero. Through all this fame, she is noted as humble, caring, and overall a lovely girl who truly put her family, friends, and fans above her own happiness sometimes, and people would just comment on how great she was in interviews, just meeting her on the street, and even the HBO and other documentaries, movies, show that she was just a lovely lovely human. To pivot slightly she was most definitely a renaissance woman while continuing her musical career, she started a whole fashion experience. Her style overall was considered to be breaking bounds of toting the line between “sexy rebel” and “Mexican American good girl” and for those who do not know, she is most known for her bustiers, tight pants, and jackets. All these fashion icons were inspirations from her stagewear, which she made available to the public because she made those herself which I thought was pretty cool like all her stagewear is coming from her. Especially when they were just like a touring small band along the border, they would have to get creative and Selena would take charge in what everyone would wear on stage. The Smithsonian's National Museum of American History actually has one of the leather outfits she wore and I couldn't figure out if it was on display or not but they do have that and I believe other Selena artifacts and have done a lot of stuff of Selena which will all be on the show notes. She is also sometimes is referred to as “Mexican Madonna'' which I personally think is garbage for so many reasons because both of those females, women, ladies are their own identities and like her music doesn't sound like Madonna.

Alana: No. The only way that Selena is the Mexican Madonna, is if Madonna is the White Selena.

Haley: Yeah.

Alana: Like I would accept like either of those because I love flipping that script.

Haley: I saw that quote like “Mexican Madonna” too many times to not put it in and just be like this is a dumpster fire

Lexi: But like I think only similarity is the leather.

Haley: It’s like the leather and the bustiers, and the bustiers she would wear would be like bedazzled bras... so I was thinking like Madonna and the cone boobs. And it’s like, what, we're gonna call Katy Perry like...

Lexi: So many female singers dress like that

Haley: Yeah, so like I wish I was born, I was born right after #1997Baby because I would have totally gotten a leather jacket from Selena. Like when she did her whole public appearance, there are so many interviews of her talking about her clothing, and you see how passionate she is. She broke even more barriers when she became the first Tejano artist to win the Grammy for best Mexican-American album in 1994 and this was at the 36th Grammy Awards. Unfortunately, only a year after her Grammy win at the height of her fame she was murdered. At age 23 she was murdered by the president of her fan club, Yolanda Saldivar in Corpus Christi, Texas, and Yolanda was considered like her close friend, part of the family even though Abraham has been on record saying like he didn't trust her, especially when a lot of like paper trails of money going missing and just fans being like this is not right like I ordered this thing and this came instead or nothing came at all, where he was like “okay, why is Yolanda in our life, how did she come about?” and really Yolanda approached Selena and was like “I’m your number one fan, let me do all this stuff for you.” Once the money laundering and all the other like sketchy stuff was coming to light that's when she killed Selena with a gun. So there's a lot of info about like Yolanda and her head space for this and since she survived and Selena didn't obviously they use Yolanda. Like 20/20 did a whole episode interviewing Yolanda and there's a clip even where she is saying her conscience is clear, she didn't mean to kill Selena, and the murder was a complete accident and like she... I got the sense that she felt worse that she didn't commit suicide versus like murding Selena. Yeah, Alana is giving me that face. It was just such a horrible, horrible scenario. I got the sense that Selena went to confront her or told her dad that she’ll confront Yolanda, starting like “Hey, there’s a lot of sketchy, criminal activity coming out, and you are the president of my fan club, what is going on? I’m talking to you as my friend and I want to work this out with you.” Apparently Yolanda had a gun, was willing, and did use it on Selena. I believe she died either on the way to the hospital or at the hospital. I couldn't get a full confirmation from a reputable source of what happened there. Honestly that whole 20/20 I linked in the show notes it's on YouTube and different parts, someone kindly posted that and it just shows you how sketchy Yolanda was and clearly the interviewers were trying to like kind of be like okay you're kind of a kook we don't have Selena's mark, we want to do a tribute of her overall legacy, we're gonna pick you. And Yolanda is actually up for parole in 2025 which I knew when I saw the movie in middle school, hence she saved my day that day going back to that. Now it just feels so much more real being like in 2020 versus like some random mid 2000s because all our whole like middle school class was obsessed with Yolanda. Honestly most people were for like the wrong reason like they start looking at her Wikipedia's seeing that Yolanda has like a fan club now which is like completely inappropriate. But I kept thinking like yo, why is she on parole and she would be on patrol because she would have served at least thirty years of her sentence so it's like thirty years to life sentence. Honestly, I don't think she's going to get paroled. I never read an indication that she was but you never know.

Alana: The Yolanda fan club kind of goes back to what we were saying in our lady criminals episode.

Haley: Yes.

Alana: Like these friggin serial killers that have fan clubs and that's so messed up.

Haley: I almost actually paved Yolanda Saldivar as my lady criminal because just whole rap sheet on her and there's just so much on like her publicness, she is still alive, and in the interviews she's like wearing makeup, wearing nice clothing, and I’m like you are painting her as an innocent, sweet lady, she is talking about murder! This is… no. I feel like we wouldn't do that for certain people like people still have sympathy for her, hence she's not wearing like the prison jumpsuit they're not doing in a prison yard. They're like creating this space to paint a picture. So to end on a happy note I've kind of compiled the list on her legacy and Boy Howdy even just in the past few years the list goes on and on. I made like a whole list from when she died and after so like 1995 to 2020 and yes it's a lot of years, but just all the stuff. There's a lot of family drama, court drama, stuff with Yolanda Saldivar and to keep it positive and keep it with stuff that we can use as Lady History and just like us as a community, loving her… Mac cosmetics has created two makeup lines in her honor. The lipstick is chef's kiss gorgeous. It's like her iconic red lipstick. I'm still looking for it. I keep thinking I’ll see it when I go to Mac or Sephora and I should probably just order online. She also has a Hollywood Walk of Fame star which you can go visit. Lastly, we have a ton of documentaries and biopics, notably the movie with J. Lo that is and back on HBO and I believe Netflix is also in the works with creating a series within the near future. The trailer’s out it looks fantastic and in my ever so humble opinion, a lot of these biopics are actually pretty decent. They do show the good, the bad, and the ugly and I could be wrong, you could totally fight me but when I watched the movie when I had HBO, made a list of points I wanted to hit or kind of corroborate because I thought it was interesting when I was watching the movie of like oh the J.Lo movie did like a great job because all that like I could find in like interviews or like the Smithsonian had a bunch of PBS, CNN for a PSA for the sources; lots of visuals this time, so if you're a visual, you like the videos you like the audio for it, rather than the text of all the books definitely check those out.

Alana: That was cool. Definitely not someone I think of as fitting this topic, that was awesome.

Haley: We defined sheroes like anyone who makes an impact

Alana: Yeah.

Haley: And honestly I had the whole joke of how I really do want to be in my Spanish middle school class and I didn't know of her existence beforehand. I've listened to some of her music growing up I didn't realize like her whole story and that was Seleh-na, Seleena, however you want to say it, I don't know you can you can fight me on how to pronounce the name but like it was the first time I saw Spanish representation in a Spanish class which is saying a lot.

Alana: Awesome, That's so cool. I guess it helps when you are telling real stories and not being, or at least trying to tell real stories and not making shit up.

Haley: Yeah, also at least for the cast for J. Lo, I'm thinking off the top of my head weren't like white people playing Hispanic, Latino characters. The Spanish was good. Like we'll see West Side Story and Natalie Wood with brown face on that was not the situation will not be the situation for Netflix.

Lexi: sings * MMMAAARRIIIAAAA *

Haley: I will get so mad if that comes around like that again.

Lexi: Ya know I can play Maria on the French Horn.

Alana: So something that Lexi and Haley know about me and now all of our lovely listeners are going to know about me is I have two favorite things: museums and fucking over Nazis. This story has both. Lexi is giving me a round of applause. We love it. So did you two see “Monuments Men?”

Haley: No I have not.

Alana: Lexi is nodding. Well my lady for today is the inspiration for the character Claire Simone played by Cate Blanchett in the movie “Monuments Men.” She's kind of turned into just a love interest but this is not a movie review podcast this is a history podcast. So. Rose Valland. She was born on November 1, 1898 in a small town in France that I'm not even gonna try to pronounce. It occurred to me that this is why we tend to stick with ladies who are American and British is because so many of these sources were in French and I was like I don't speak French. Sometimes I feel bad about that but other times I'm like I can't read these sources.

Lexi: We should get some listeners to send us translations of ladies from their home countries that we can use. So if you have a lady from your home country or speak a language of a country, translate some sources for a rare lady and send them to us.

Alana: We would love to talk about rare ladies who are like– that's the whole point, like overlooked by history.

Haley: Google Translate does not help. I'm ready for someone to be like use Google Translate because I’ve seen that on so many podcasts.

Alana: Yeah. I have a Google Translate story later in this about how bad it was. Rose earned two separate degrees in art history from the École du Louvre and The Sorbonne. I over-pronounce things in French because you can't be corrected if you're wrong on purpose. She also has two previous degrees from École des Beaux-Arts in Lyon and in Paris which I think translates just like to school for fine arts or school of fine arts. And yet, she takes an unpaid volunteer job at the Jeu de Paume in 1932. It says volunteer, I've been thinking of her as an unpaid intern because that just resonates with me personally. I watched the documentary “Rape of Europa” which is all about this project. I did that while I was a little bit drunk and I looked at my notes afterwards and I have this line here in all caps, holy shit she was unpaid. I was very excited about her being an unpaid intern because unpaid interns can do anything.

Lexi: The amazing thing about that is that for most of museums’ history, once women were allowed in, they weren't allowed to be paid to work.

Alana: That's a whole other issue.

Lexi: When you look at the Smithsonian archives, the number of women that were just there because their husband was there but then actually contributed way more than their husbands but then got paid like eighty bucks as a present one time? Like… crazy. I digress.

Alana: And the Jeu de Paume is an art museum a little bit further from Paris, a little bit lesser known from Paris. It's like… for my DC friends, my DC audience it's like the Louvre is the National Gallery of Art and the Jeu de Paume is the Hirschhorn. So like it's a little bit lesser known but like still really cool. I can't find a good timeline for like her level of promotion and how far she came which… how? This was like less than a hundred years ago, but okay. Eventually she gets a job being a paid attaché and then becomes assistant curator when the curator falls ill. She was in charge of modern art exhibits which is very interesting because a very prominent art school reject has just become Chancellor of Germany and hates modern art and thinks it's degenerate. Oh. This will come into play later. It was Hitler. I just want to be like Hitler was an art school reject who thought modern art– I guess 1930s art was degenerate. I just wanna explain the joke.

Lexi: That’s my second favorite fact about Hitler.

Alana: What's your first favorite fact?

Lexi: That he only had one testicle.

Alana: That he only had one testicle. Okay. So. In October of 1940, the Nazis commandeered the Jeu de Paume for storing looted art. This was the Eisen– I don’t speak German. I’m gonna get it clean. Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg Project. It was the name of the operation that Hitler used for all of the basically art looting that he did. That was like the name of the project; name of the operation. And then the director of the French National Museums says to Rose Valland “stay there. Be a spy.” And she's like “okay” and she works the phones which is an amazing way to like listen in to keep track of movements. But guess what? They're like being all loosey-goosey with their info around her because they're like “oh she's French, we're speaking German, it'll be fine.” Plot twist, she knows German! So she managed to keep a diary of which, like, prominent Jewish collectors owned what and what went where and who took it and where it was going and catalogued all this stuff. She was interrogated for being a spy twice and there is a quote from her– like she wrote a memoir about this, this time in her life and she says “he looked at me straight in the eye and told me I could be shot. I calmly replied that no one here is stupid enough to ignore the risk.” And that is movie dialogue level shit. Like, oh my god. Incredible. But like so, she's interviewed a couple times and she was like “no look I'm a woman I can't be a spy, look at my glasses.” (Alana laughing)

Haley, whispering: I’m a spy.

Lexi: Remember, women can't be money, women can't be spy.

Alana: Women don't be money women don't be spies.

Haley: We all have glasses, so we are all spies.

Alana: We are all spies. Can’t be glasses. She has– there are like all these cute little pictures of her and she was wearing Harry Potter glasses but this was way before Harry Potter and also like Harry Potter's kind of cringe now so I think we need to call Harry Potter glasses Rose Valland glasses. That's my new social movement, that's my new fight.

Lexi: Acceptable. We should start a Twitter campaign.

Alana: Yeah. I should. After the war, she kept working with the museum and she kept working with the Monuments Men. That was like their actual name, that's not just the name of the movie. And she was looking for the stolen art and she was part of the French Commission on Art Recovery. At age 54 she was finally made curator. Women… Women don't be museums, women don't be money, women don't be spies, women don't be museums. She's also given so many awards before she's even made curator. She's like the most decorated woman in France and then she's made curator. And like, that's all she ever wanted, was to be a curator but she has like– she's awarded the Legion of Honor, the Medal of the Résistance, the Officer’s Cross of the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany, she's made Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters. In 1948 she was given the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but all she wants is to be curator of this museum.

Lexi: I have never felt a story on this show so hard.

Alana: And then , wait, how us is this part? She retired from the museum in 1968, but she went back to being a volunteer for ten years. I've never felt closer to a woman.

Lexi: Incredible. Yeah. I think this is my past life.

Alana: Yeah, right? She published a book called– it's basically like “The Front of Art” like “The Art Front.” It's a pun on a different book called “The Art of the Front.” But so she's just talking about like fighting the war but from the perspective of an art museum, essentially. It became the Hollywood movie “The Train” in the sixties but in her book she's not like a hero or glorifying herself. She's very objective and her fictionalized character in “The Train” has like ten minutes of screentime. She just wants to talk about the deeds, not really herself; she's just like “I was doing my job…” Which is the only way you should be using that phrase in the context of World War II. But James Rorimer, who is fictionalized to James Granger and Matt Damon– Matt Damon's character in “Monuments Men”– in an early draft of his book, he literally says “Rose Valland is the hero of this story.” I just think it's so amazing that she was so prominent in this, and all she's like “okay I just want to go work at my museum now, goodbye” but with a French accent… because she was French.

Lexi: I was gonna attempt it but I'm not going to.

Alana: I’m not gonna do it, I can't do it. There is a statue of– it's sort of, there is a statue that's sort of of her in Lille, France L. I. L. L. E. France. Which is like a little town about 225 kilometers or 140 miles north of Paris. It's pretty close to the Belgian border. The way in which I had to go to the Hebrew language Wikipedia page and translate it to English to find out that's where the statue was… So here's my Google Translate story. In Hebrew, I speak very little Hebrew, shout out to my at-home synagogue who gave me a job teaching Hebrew even though I don't speak it. I love that. But there's a prefix V- which means and. And so when I translated the page into English, the computer translated Rose V-alland to Rose and Allan. So that's why we don't trust the Google Translate. That's why we don't trust the computer translate. We only trust the people. The humans. Because there's like no capitals in Hebrew, so you can't tell what's a name and what's not. This statute does not look like her at all. It's more like a monument to her. It's like a woman, wrapped in a sheet, surrounded by empty frames, and it's kind of weird but it's like a memorial to her. There is ongoing work with the recovery project. There are still paintings that the Nazis looted that haven't been found; it is called the E. R. R. project for. Eizen– Eizenstab or whatever. And they're trying to find the stolen works and it is sponsored by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum– please give me a job United States Holocaust Memorial Museum– and the Jewish Claims Conference. So it's like her life is not– like her life's work is not complete and we have to finish it. I had a really good time researching this story. Shout out to my dad for the four bucks he gave me so that I could rent “Monuments Men” on Amazon. Yeah. I also have documentaries this week. It's fun that we've like done different kinds of sources.

Lexi: We covered such different she-roes like–

Haley: I love it.

Lexi: Mine’s like the classical like she literally like pulled someone out of water.

Haley: Yeah.

Lexi: And then Haley's is more like look how many people's lives that she touched and therefore like saved people through music and then Alana’s is about saving art. Which is so cool that we all have different types of heroes. There's no wrong way to be a she-ro.

Haley: That's why I wanted to ask the question.

Alana: What is a she-ro.

Haley: Yeah. I love that.

Lexi: Anyone can be a she-ro.

Alana: Anyone who uses she/her pronouns can be a she-ro. Lexi's doing a fist pump and it's very funny that she has a screenshot from one of our previous Zoom meetings as her Zoom background.

Haley: What would be the non-binary version of hero/she-ro?

Alana: They-ro.

Haley: Okay.

Lexi: Yeah, I love that.

Haley: Well, I wanted to say that but then I didn't want to be like– that was in my head, but…

Alana: They-ro.

Haley: Trying to like pronounce it sounded weird.

Alana: Like my favorite joke that nobody likes, like happy Rosh– or like, Shana Tova to all my Hebrews, shebrews, and theybrews.

Haley: Yes.

Alana: My favorite joke in the whole world and I made it on Twitter nobody liked it. If you see me on Twitter no you don't.

Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on lady history pod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review or tell your friends, and if you don’t like the show, keep it to yourself.

Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, Garageband, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us, next time on Lady History.

[OUTRO MUSIC]

Haley: Next week on Lady History; we're heading to the zoo to monkey around. Get ready for some zoologists, zookeepers, primatologists, you name it. It’s going to be such an animal party.

Alana: I have a confession to make. Every time you say the birthdate of one of your ladies I’m like “Oh, so her star sign is…”

(Lexi laughing)

Alana: Like, Haley was like “she was born on April 16th” and in my head I'm like “so she's an Aries…”

Haley: I think of the same thing. I like–

Alana: It's just like where I am. I always think that like… every time I write down a birthday I'm like “oh maybe this time I'll be like oh that makes her a Scorpio. Like, Rose Valland, Scorpio.

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moonshinelouis-archive · 5 years ago

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fine line analyses

these are thoughts; my thoughts. if you don’t agree please be reasonable and just ignore.

tumblr fucking ate this post so here i am. rewriting it all.

tw: i talk about alcohol, drugs, grief, and death

the album in general uses the extended metaphor of yellow. the colour is mentioned in nearly every song and i’ll explain why or why not later. the yellow is hope, happiness, and all things nice but as all archetypes it has a ‘dark’ side; it means cowardice and/or deceit. it also seems to follow the hero’s journey which is interesting.

side a: love/light vs dark. exposition.

golden begins the album already in sunshine; in happily vibes imo. gold is the ultimate illuminated colour, so to use it is... the next level, especially as the album opener. “take me back to the light / i knew you were way too bright for me” are ideas that come back in lights up. i love the juxtaposition in this song: “hold [the golden (light)], focus, hoping,” and then a couple lines later, “i’m hopeless, broken”; showing that at the same time, he’s hopeful and hopeless. i love that he alludes, in the entire song, that his person is the sun but he never says it outright: “you wait for me in the sky / [your light] browns my skin just right / you’re so golden,” which come back in sunflower. “i know that you’re scared / because hearts get broken / because i’m so open” immediately made me thing of strong. both he and his lover overwhelm each other at times: “you were way too bright for me,” “you’re scared / because i’m so open”; but ultimately this is a song about devotion: “i don’t wanna be alone / loving you’s the antidote.”

watermelon sugar doesn’t have anything outright yellow; however, the entire lyrics are rooted in imagery surrounding summer which inherently involves a sunny, especially when he calls out that it’s “warm,” that there are “berries,” that it’s “the end of June,” so my point stands. this song has already been analysed, i think, so i’m not gonna go too into it; in a nutshell, it’s the sweetest of loves. “tastes like strawberries on a summer evening” calls to we made it’s “remember how it tasted / looking into your eyes,” and the absolutely feral warm image of tasting moments makes me crazy...the tenderness..oh god.. “it sounds just like a song” comes back in many other tracks; in sunflower, “plant new seeds in the melody” -- try to find new beginnings in the music -- and also “want you more than a melody.” harry says this one was “the hardest one to finish” which could suggest ongoing events.

adore you has yellow in “honey” and “lemon” and hidden in “summer skies” and “brown skin.” thematically, this song is the same as watermelon sugar; devotion. “walk in your rainbow paradise” -- a rainbow is renewal, promise; a gateway, the calm after the storm. to be with his lover is to walk in paradise, away from all evil. though their lack of communication plagues them, it can sometimes be how they find their peace: “you don’t have to say you love me / nothing / [that] you’re mine.” “i’d walk through fire for you” reminded me of happily and through the dark.

lights up, too, has already been discussed at length; “what do you mean? / i’m sorry by the way / i’m never coming back down / can’t you see / i could but it wouldn't stay?” will speak volumes to anyone who’s been closeted, even if nothing extreme. “i’m never coming around / it’d be so sweet / if things just stayed the same” would be the melancholy and fear of watching those you love slip away because of something you can’t change; and, even if it doesn’t, there will always be the little things that change, like how you’re perceived. “all the lights couldn’t put out the dark / running through my heart” is one of my favourite lines; it speaks of the things within himself he’d rather hide, and yet, all the pride he’s told to have does nothing to erase his bitterness towards the feeling -- internalised homophobia/transphobia. however -- “step into the light / so bright sometimes / i’m not ever coming back” -- as overwhelming, as scary, as engulfing as it all may be... it’s much better to be in the light than in the dark; back to golden. the yellow in this song is in the ‘light.’

side b: complete abstinence of yellow. abyss.

cherry presents vibrant red rather than yellow, perhaps to illustrate the glossy jealousy he expresses in this song, and possibly to say he is angry despite sounding defeated. thematically similar to woman. i don’t think this song is dismissible because its aspects all come back: “gallery” is again in sunflower; “don’t call me baby” returns in to be so lonely. “there’s a piece of you in how i dress” reminded me of “painted nails make harry beautiful” :’) also, “your accent” is pretty loud. if anything is to be said about the ending, is that it’s in the “language of love.”

falling is very clearly the death in the hero’s journey; the lowest point from which he could only rebirth. again there are communication issues: “forget what i said / it’s not what i meant”; “we’ve run out of things we can say.” and then there’s rediscovery: “what am i now?” he asks, after having asked the listeners if they know who they are; and his despair seems tied to insecurities -- “what if i’m someone i don’t want around? / what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? / what if you’re someone i just want around?” (notice the flip of pronouns in the last two; switching the blame. harry and louis seem to do that a lot; the blame is passed from one to another in songs. he blames himself in this one, though: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.”) the biggest insecurity lies in the line: “i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again,” in which harry just wants.. to be needed; to be loved and to be in love. overall he’s asking for redemption, whatever of.

to be so lonely is still sad, but obviously a rise; a rebirth. “don’t blame me for falling / i was just a little boy / don’t blame the drunk caller / i wasn’t ready for it all / you can’t blame me, darling / not even a little bit / i was away / and i’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry” -- the opening verse is just all excuses, all flimsy at best; pushing the blame around. “i was just a little boy” had me screaming; “don’t blame the drunk caller” is distancing himself as far away as possible even though....that’s him, drunk-calling; he said so in falling: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.” the last one is not even trying; he just straight up says he’s arrogant.. lol. again he’s rooting onto insecurites: “i just hope you see me / in a little better light” asks his lover not to only see him as the stupid little boy who became a needy and arrogant drunk caller; and again he pleads for mercy with rather nonsensical logic: “do you think it’s easy? / being of the jealous kind?” overall, these three songs together could be interpreted as a breakup, though the romantic songs in the album would support better that there have been really rough patches in their relationship; specifically times in which they were caught in untimely scheduling inconveniences amid fights. but see it how you will.

she is a projection. harry tries out the ‘normal guy’ archetype, giving his character a nine-to-five office job and the predictable (supposedly married) life with kids; he likely did this to try out a different perspective of his feelings and/or to appeal to his audience, who is mostly not made up of millionaires. right away, he’s pretending, with the most basic of things: “[he] sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon / around 13:32 / like he knows what to do.” as for the whole chorus and “a woman who’s just in his head / and she sleeps in his bed / while he plays pretend” is, to me, the woman inside him who aches to be seen; she represent his struggles with binary genders, both of which are oppressing. “he takes a boat out / imagines just sailing away / and not telling his mates / he wouldn't know what to say” is literally eroda?? and shows communication issues. again.

side c: ascending

sunflower makes the yellow comeback.. loud and in your face. the sunflower is commonly associated with the sun tarot card, which often depicts them with children, who are mentioned... the card stands for clarity and success. this song is thematically like watermelon sugar and adore you, but it just has that stoner vibe you know ? “kids in the kitchen listen to dancehall” triggered “even as young as you are.” again, there are communication issues; “i’ve been trying hard not to talk to you” “let me inside, i wanna get to know you / wish i could get to know you” “i was just tongue-tied / i’m still tongue-tied.” “i’ve got your face / hung up high in the gallery” again shows adoration; with cherry’s “does he take you walking through his parents’ gallery?” it could be interpreted as, are his parents showing you off like i do? a big note about it: “hung up high in the gallery / out of this shade” in the light! this is major.

canyon moon shows yellow in “the world’s happy waiting / doors yellow, broken, blue” -- happy, first of all. the doors are portals that they’ve taken, will take, or could take; some are happy, some deceitful, some sad. i find it very interesting that in she “the man drops his kid off at school” and in this one jenny tells her husband to “go get the kids from school.” “two weeks and i’ll be home” loud loud loud. paris and rome are both romantic cities. “[she -- jenny?] pretends not to know the words” again shows some pretending, perhaps to show that we all pretend about things in life, even mundane activites... just a fun song about being away and missing each other like right now.

treat people with kindness is the only song outside of side b that does not have yellow. i think that is because, though this is a happy song, it’s jus a cover up -- he’s burying his grief in the music and drugs/drinks. “and it’s just another day / and if our friends all pass away / it’s okay.” “feeling good in my skin / i just keep on dancing” shows the other effect of numbing all the insecurities and fears he normally carries.

side d: settling. the first sign fine line is a track to be paid attention to is that it’s the titular the track. the second push is giving it its own side on the record.

fine line is another side of she, for which i liked this eloquent explanation. it’s a drastic shift in mood from tpwk to fine line; harry truly shows how vulnerable he is. he’s divided -- “you sunshine, you temptress”; god, when i read/heard that i cried. so beautiful, so appeasing, but it looks like such a distant dream. unachievable. furthermore i think making this song about a relationship, or anyone other than harry and harry’s inner demons is belittling it; belittling his internal struggles to reach the so desired fine line...

#*#mel.txt #lyric analysis #hs2

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kallura-icedcoffee · 6 years ago

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golden hour: haunted

A/N: Thanks for taking the journey with me during Kallura Month! Happy Halloween babes!

Shared Space

The realtor conveniently left out a lot of things…

The keys jingle in Keith’s hand as he slides it into the lock and turns. There’s a click and he pushes the door open.

“Welcome home Mrs. Kogane” Keith says sweetly before quickly sweeping his wife up in his arms to carry her across the threshold.

Allura squeals then erupts into giggles before begging him to put her down.

“Stop! Keep fooling around and you’re going to make this baby pop out early!” She slaps his arm before bringing her hands to her round belly and rubbing it.

Their large husky Kosmo runs back and forth in the front yard.

He takes one of her hands, kisses it, before they both look around at their new home, the start of their new life.

DAY 3

“I think the heater’s broken” Allura says nonchalantly as she stands at the stove making scrambled eggs.

“Hmm?” Keith looks up from his laptop at the dining room table.

“The heater is broken. It was absolutely freezing last night. I went to the bathroom and I could practically see my breath.”

“Oh, sorry baby, I’ll look into it and if I can’t figure it out I’ll call someone.”

“Thank you honey.”

DAY 7

Keith paints the walls in the soon-to-be nursery, taking a moment to wipe his brow. He turns to change the song on the stereo when he sees Allura pass by the door out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey honey can you get me some water? Honey?”

He pokes his head out the door to see her standing at the window at the end of the hallway, her back to him. She’s in a long pink dress he’s never seen before, but then again her closet is filled with clothes he hasn’t seen yet. She loves a good sale.

“Honey?”

He walks toward her. She’s unmoving, won’t acknowledge him.

“Hey space cadet I’m talking to you.”

He reaches out to touch her shoulder.

“Darling I made some lemonade with lavender. Do you want some?” Allura says as she comes up the stairs.

Keith whips around at the sound of her voice behind him. When he looks forward nothing is there. He looks back at Allura, face pale. She’s holding two glasses of lemonade. She’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt with her hair in a messy high bun.

“Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I uh…heh, I’m fine.” He smiles and walks toward her.

DAY 16

Allura stands in the kitchen unpacking additional dishes. She realizes in that moment that they have far too many mugs. She smiles at Keith’s “Fuck Mondays” cup and goes to put it on the shelf. A pair of hands slide around her stomach, a nose nestles in her neck.

“Hi” she says playfully.

“Hi.” He kisses her skin. His voice is deep, rough.

She hums contently as he continues to drag his lips along her shoulder, pressing his body against hers. She can feel his want of her digging into her backside.

Allura licks her lips, bites them.

“Really? Right now? This what got us into this mess in the first place” she jokes and places her free hand over his on her tummy.

“What got us into this mess in the first place?” Keith asks as he stands in the doorway. He seems to be getting more paint on himself than the walls.

Allura gasps and drops the mug and it shatters at her feet. Keith rushes to her side, pushing her gently away so she won’t step on the ceramic fragments.

“Baby are you ok?”

Allura wrings her now trembling hands as she looks frantically about the room.

“I…but you were just…It was you, I heard your voice, I felt you.”

“What?” He looks up at her with concern.

Allura shakes her head and refuses to speak on it further.

DAY 21

“It’s not a bad feeling necessarily, it’s just…an unusual feeling that’s all. There’s something in this house. I can feel it” Allura says while they sit in bed, resting a cross stitch she was making for baby’s room on her stomach.

“Look I’ll admit some weird shit has happened, but I don’t think I’m ready to call a priest just yet, that’s all I’m saying.” Keith adjusts his glasses and puts down his book.

Keith does his best to reassure her before bed and she sleeps snuggling in his arms with Kosmo curled up at their feet. They wake up to their bedroom door open. They could’ve sworn they closed it the night before.

DAY 30

The minor renovations are done and, with Shiro’s help the day before, they’ve put together the crib, assembled the furniture and the nursery is ready for decorating. The boxes of the baby’s items are in the basement which Allura curses at herself for putting there given the events of the past month. She could just ask Keith but she doesn’t want to look like a baby herself so she goes down alone. Luckily most of the boxes are right by the bottom of the stairs so she won’t have to go far.

Allura hasn’t really been in the basement at any length, she hasn’t looked around. There was some left over furniture and boxes from the previous tenants that they never took with them and she grumbles that they left so much that she will now have to arrange to be removed.

As she sits on the bottom step rifling through boxes, figuring out which one to bring up first, a crash comes from the back of the room behind some shelves as if something has fallen over. She jumps at the sudden sound. Her heart is pounding when suddenly Kosmo shows himself, hanging his head when he’s knows he’s gotten into trouble.

“Oh thank god!” Allura sighs with relief and places a hand over her heart.

She gets up and goes to the pup, petting his head.

“Ok what did you break?” She asks and, as if he understands her question, he leads her to the scene of the crime.

There’s an old jewelry box turned over on the ground, its contents spilled everywhere.

“Way to go.” She reprimands her fur son and kneels down to clean up the mess.

As she goes to put the box back she looks up.

Keith is washing his hands in the kitchen sink when he hears her screaming his name in a way that sends fear ripping through him. He bounds down the basement staircase, skipping steps as he goes and finds her in the back, tucked behind a wall of shelves with Kosmo by her side.

“Lu what’s wron-” He tries to comfort her but his words die in his throat as he notices what she’s staring at.

A painting sits propped up on an old dresser. It looks old, covered in dust and cobwebs. A lone soft yellow bulb shines down on it as if it was a gallery art piece.

It’s a portrait of couple. His hair is black as night, her hair white as snow. She sits, while he stands with his hand on her shoulder. Their clothes are dated, something out of the 1920s. Her dress is pink. A dress Keith has seen before. She’s very, very pregnant.

“What is this?” Allura can barely speak above a whisper, a single tear falls down her cheek. She can’t stop shaking.

Keith doesn’t have an answer. What could he possibly tell her as they look upon this painting that’s more like looking in a mirror? His blood feels like ice.

They stand there, frozen, not realizing they’re currently being watched. They have been watched for some time now.

Just turn around…

This house has been waiting for them.

They have been waiting for them.

To come home.

We’re together and where ever we go after this we’ll be together there too…

AO3 LINK

#kallura #kalluramonth2018 #ficsbyKIC #all good things must come to an end

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wootensmith · 7 years ago

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Hall of Fools

He felt the buzz of her magic unravel as she dropped the wards, watched the swift, panicked movements as she replaced them, still fearing the anchor would seize her while she was unprotected. And then the drained sag of her shoulders as she finished, the bitter draught of lyrium, the soft clink of the bottle rolling against others in her pack. The frantic way she tried to check her skin for evidence that the mark was growing still more. This was not what he wished for her. “I will not let it consume you unexpectedly,” he said. “That much, at least, I can do. I will keep watch. Rest. If all I can offer you are a few days of peace, I would make them as easy as possible.” She nodded and replaced her shirt, but he could see the muscle in her jaw pulse, still worrying over it. He needed to give her something else to think on. Something to wonder at. “I know the day has been long, but I would show you something— give you a good dream of our home if I can. Will you join me in a walk, Vhenan?” She smiled. “Of course.” She held out her hand to him.

Arlathan was no longer the quiet, moveless hulk of rubble it had been when he arrived. Temples had been fortified and transformed to new purpose. Muddy paths cut through the silver snow and hearth fires shone through the cracked walls and arched windows. Everywhere the sound of voices rising and falling. But he led her further, past where the footprints dwindled and the only light came from the moons and the green fire of the mark. The thick silence of empty snow pressed against them and she whispered, “Where are we going, Solas?” “To see the secret dreams of the People,” he said, smiling. She faltered. “Secret? But that’s— not for me.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t meant to be secret from all, especially not from you. Only from the Evanuris. Only from those who wished them harm. They were left for you, for those who came after. To show what they were. How they loved, how they celebrated and grieved. Just as your record in the Veilfire room.” “You knew?” Her face brightened. “It was you. You left me that memory— why didn’t you return to me?” He kissed her hand. “I wished to. You were not at Skyhold. And I knew I would find you soon after, the anchor was becoming unmanageable.”

Her face shifted, the light shimmering as her expression crumbled. “How much time have I wasted?” she muttered. “None, Vhenan,” he said quickly, pressing his forehead to hers. “None. It could have happened no other way but this. Do not regret your decisions. They were wise ones, though I wanted only to choose foolishly. We did what we must. Put the idea aside. Be with me now.” Their breath was a thin, warm mist between them. He watched it, fearing hers would stutter, that she’d succumb to sadness, when what he wished for most was to draw her away from sorrow. But she only tipped her face up to him, kissed him with cool lips. “It’s cold, emma lath,” she reminded him gently, “and I cannot warm us now.” “We are not far— I do not dare warm us with a spell, but there is a hearth where we are headed, and I left kindling when I last was there.” He slipped his hand into hers, chafing it gently to heat her skin and led her further into the forest.

The temple’s metal roof shimmered even in the low light, peeling back in jagged opening petals where the enormous Sonallium had first crumbled and then imploded just above it. “What happened to this place?” asked the Inquisitor as they picked their way over the worked stone of June’s collapsed colonnade. “The Veil happened,” he said, helping her climb up the shattered steps into the temple. “Much of Arlathan depended on the Fade. It was part of Elvhenan’s bones. When I shut it away, the city collapsed. Every part. It was chaos. But the destruction is not what is surprising. What’s remarkable is that anything remains.” He picked up the lantern he’d left in corner of the doorframe and lit it. “I should not have left them. Of all the charges that have been laid at my feet— that one, abandoning them— you, I regret most. And it is perhaps, the one I am most guilty of.” Her hand pressed his cheek and he tried to shake himself of the melancholy that threatened to overtake them both. He smiled, held up the lantern. “But that is not why I brought you here. I brought you here for a good dream that I have long owed you. Many.” He pulled her into the temple, flicking a spell toward the old crystal lanterns that still hung upon the walls. They sparked and blazed brightly, one after another revealing the vibrant portraits of the Evanuris stretching over the walls. The Inquisitor drew closer to the painted scenes, staring intently. He watched the naked wonder in her expression. It was not his original reason for bringing her, but he was unwilling to break her fascination.

“What is this place? Did you paint them?” she asked. He laughed. “No, Vhenan. Though I am flattered by you mistaking them for mine. This is June’s temple. His people made these, and the others I wish to show you. He was their chronicler. It was June that made them gods, if any can truly claim that. He guarded their images, their stories. Made certain that they would be elevated and worshiped. And—” He turned to point at the opposite wall, where a range of flawed and hideous creatures gamboled in bright colors. “And also ensured any rivals would be seen as threats to be shunned, pushed out, unaided. This place was one of his trophy halls. It was not he who painted them, though.” He brushed some dust from Elgar’nan’s golden knee. “It was hundreds of his slaves. Weaving veilfire into the very plaster. So the memory would endure as long as the temple, for those with the power to see.”

She looked forlornly at her hand. “I do not have enough magic left even to summon veilfire,” she said. He put the lantern down and caught her fingers with his own. “Ir abelas. I know how painful it is to find yourself weaker than you expected to be.” He twisted the casting ring gently. “It will return. Very soon, it will all return to you. Until then—” He held out his other hand, a ball of veilfire filling his palm, “let me care for you, in the ways that I may. I cannot remove the anchor or strengthen your wards without harming you, but this small thing—” he smiled. “Let me be the lamplighter for you, Vhenan.” He held up his hand to show her the first panel, Elgar’nan’s ancient war to drive the dwarves from Elvhenan. He watched her fall into the memory. It was not a lovely one. None of these were. Brutal victories in war, each of them, meant to honor great generals. He had not brought her here for more suffering. “Does the Shaperate— you should tell them,” she gasped as it left her. “They should know how they came to be in Orzammar— how strong they are, to fight an Evanuris.” “I expect it would produce similar results to telling the Dalish their own history. Denial, hostility— exclusion.” He sighed. “But they will see it soon enough. The memory will shine constantly in the presence of the Fade. Whether the Legion of the Dead chooses to tell the king or not— this is not what I wished to show you. This is—” he waved vaguely, “fairy stories, I think you said once. I have something better.”

He pulled her gently away from the grand hall, though she cast a regretful glance back at the murals. There was little that had survived the centuries, unprotected by both spell and shelter. The scrolls were long dust, the fine tapestries millennia unraveled. The temple was empty and sprawling except for the intricate metalwork that glinted in the light of his lamp. He bypassed the long galleries of mosaic sagas and the empty stone chambers that had held the work of countless scribes, choosing, instead, a low stone doorway at the end of a wide corridor. He stooped to enter it and turned back to warn her of the uneven threshold. “We are behind the trophy hall,” he said. He held up the lantern to show her more paintings, these far cruder, rushed and furtive as they must have been. “The slaves called this the hall of fools,” he said with a slow chuckle. “An act of rebellion. It is not what I want you to see, but—” he pulled forth another ball of veilfire. “Sera must have had an influence upon me.” He held up the veilfire, again to Elgar’nan. A memory of Elgar’nan captured by Geldauran, tricked by his own rage into Geldauran’s trap. The mighty Evanuris chained and humiliated before the eyes of a soldier, one that had been sent to rescue him. He’d been freed after lengthy negotiations with Mythal and a vow never to pursue Geldauran again. The soldier had kept this memory, had held it in him until the painting, had slapped it into the rough lines of the image where it stood for centuries, a testimony to the fallibility of the Evanuris. It was hope where only those who needed it would see. The Inquisitor touched the glimmering fingerprints of veilfire the soldier had left, as if she could reach the hand that left it, as if she could tell him she saw, she understood what he had seen.

“This must have been perilous,” she said, pulling his hand to the next. Falon’din. “It was,” he said. “If any of them had been caught, it would have meant immediate execution. Of the painter. Of the memory maker. And all of their kin. But they knew their masters well. No Evanuris ever entered here. The only betrayal would come from among their fellow slaves.” “Did it?” she asked. “On occasion,” he said, “but not often.” She turned back to the painting, watching Falon’din growl with rage in one of his infamous rages. A warning, as well as a mockery. The man who craved adoration was hideous in his anger and deadly when humiliated. Solas had seen the memory maker’s fate. He hadn’t been caught, not for this painting, but had been slaughtered nonetheless. The Inquisitor shuddered as the memory faded. He stroked her hair. “We don’t need to linger here,” he said, “I wanted to show you something beautiful—”

She turned to follow him, but the veilfire caught on Andruil’s scarlet armor and she stood, arrested by the memory. One of the guards who kept her a year in quarantine with Solas. She’d remembered the way Andruil had raged at them all. The way the blight diminished her. Angry and slow and stumbling— perhaps all that had saved Solas and the guards from death. The Inquisitor turned toward him. Kissed him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was long, long ago. And she was— not herself.” “She seemed as rational as you did, when I saw you in Redcliffe— when you were infected. But you were not cruel. Not like that.” “Perhaps I was not as ill.” The Inquisitor watched him. “Was she kind, before the blight?” “No,” he admitted. “That is a relief.” The statement startled him. “Why a relief, Vhenan?” She stood on her toes, kissed each of his eyelids carefully. “Because in a fortnight, you will also have the blight. Darkspawn— I can understand them. Pity them. Mindless and hungry to the point of madness. But this— what happened to her— that was not mindlessness. That was— brutality. I am not certain I could forgive that, Solas.” “I cannot know how the blight will alter me. But I hope we will not have the time to find out.” He stared at the flat image. “It is always there. That knowledge that I could be like them. That there is so little separating what they have done from the choices I made. That it is too late, and I have already surpassed their indifference and cruelty.”

She shook her head. “If that were true, I would not be here. Neither of us would have allowed it.” “You did not know me before. I let Corypheus find the orb. I didn’t plan to help you. Not then. I would have torn down the Veil and taken only those who survived with me—” “But you didn’t. You had the opportunity, and you chose another path.” “It was you that persuaded me.” She smiled. “It wasn’t. You might have joined Corypheus in that other Redcliffe. You might have become close enough to take the orb. I know you were capable of persuading him. Just revealing your identity would have secured your place. But you refused. Accepted your fate rather than give him more power. Died to undo it. You did not love me there. And I was dead, as far as you knew. You chose for yourself. From the beginning. From this day—” she pointed to the painting. “When you shielded those weaker than you from Andruil’s wrath. Probably earlier. Every day, you’ve chosen over and over to remain something better. You are not like them— at least, not like the memories I’ve seen.” She laughed softly. “You can dismiss me. I’ll freely admit that I’m infatuated with you, I am hardly a dependable judge. But the people who are here— thousands of elves, Solas. More than the Inquisition ever was. All these people are not your slaves. They don’t stay because you compel them. They are with you on the very brink of the Void because they trust you. Depend upon their judgment. You are not Andruil.” She ran her fingers over the rough plaster. “And I do not see you on this wall, no matter how your story has changed in the years since. These people did not think you a fool.” She put her hand into his, pressing out the veilfire, leaving only the lamp and her own emerald glow. “Enough of the Evanuris. You promised me a good dream.” He smiled. “Indeed. And a fire to warm you. Come with me, Vhenan.”

#Solas #Lavellan #solas and lavellan #dragon age inquisition

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vagrantblvrd · 7 years ago

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Don’t Go Looking for Some Kind of Rescue (1/1)

Summary: Gavin's too young, too stupid by far when he stumbles into trouble. The kind that follows him for the rest of his life. Tangles him up so much he can't see a way out, and thank God for that.

AO3

Gavin's always been an odd sort, quiet and quick and clever, until he isn't, and then it's chaos and confusion and somehow, somehow, he pulls through. Maybe not unscathed, but he pulls through.

Young and too stupid by far and he discovers the internet, and it's a wonder, opens up the world before him like nothing before. Endless possibilities and so much potential, and he throws himself forward without a second thought. Learns so much, modern day thief quiet and quick and clever, until he's not.

Until he makes a mistake because he's young and too stupid by far, and -

“Oh, shit.”

Americans, a gang, a crew? And he's made an enemy of them, hasn't he. Gone and stuck his nose in business not his own and they found out, and this is the trouble everyone's always told him will come knocking one day. (That Dan had before he'd gone and joined up. Leaving Gavin alone with his too-big ideas and ambitions and no one to tell him no, to think for a moment. Just one.)

He panics, fear a bright sharp thing in his chest and runs, or tries too, but he's too slow. Made the mistake of thinking they wouldn't have a long enough reach, that he'd have time, but they do and he doesn't.

Gets taken off the street like something in a movie, rough burlap bag over his head, and pushed and shoved and dropped down into a hard chair in a room that echoes. Bag pulled off his head, and that endlessly cliché spotlight shining in his eyes and him.

Founder of the gang, the crew, and Gavin feels real fear because he's seen what they're capable of, the Roosters because the internet is a wonder, isn't it.

“So you're Gavin.”

Gavin thinks about his life to that point, distressingly short and so very stupid, and says, “And you're Burnie.”

It goes on like that for a while. Burnie pulling up a chair and chatting with Gavin, who has his hands tied behind his back. Wrists rubbed raw where he'd tried to free himself before Burnie walked in, panic fluttering in his chest.

Every so often Gavin's attention will go to the figure standing somewhere behind the spotlight when they shift, hears it and can't see them, and that's worse, so much worse. Doesn't know if this is it, then. Bullet between the eyes as Burnie smiles amiably at him, like they're old friends catching up after not seeing each other for a while.

It never comes, and eventually Gavin hears what Burnie's saying. That he's interested in what Gavin could do for them, if, and Gavin is young, and too stupid by far and says, “Yes”, and ”I understand”, and “Wait, what?”

And Burnie, he laughs and leans forward. Pats Gavin's cheek, says, “Smart kid,” and “Don't fuck this up” and “You want lunch?” because they've been at it for hours, this little meet and greet, and Gavin is so very confused.

“I, er,” he says, head tilted slightly. “Sure?”

It's the beginning of a beautiful friendship and a lifetime of trouble, and Gavin never saw it coming.

========

He's not really sure he likes America when he gets there. Too loud, too everything, really.

But then Burnie puts a hand on his shoulder and shows him where he'll be working, introduces him around and Gavin is so very aware he's in over his head. Sees others looking at him oddly, thoughtfully, and wonders what he agreed to.

But there's no fear in that thought, no dread in his bones pulling him down. Just Burnie watching him patiently, and a chance, an opportunity to spread his wings and find out what he can really do.

And Gavin, he loves his work. Stirring up trouble, for others, himself, it's all the same in the end. He works with people who fold him into their little group readily enough, teach him the things he didn't know he needed to know. Finesse and a funny sort of appreciation, the kind that allows him to admire the beauty in a thing before he brings it crashing down.

Burnie insists he learn other things too, and this is where Gavin balks at first. Claims he won't need to know, to learn, but Burnie takes hold of his arm, pulls the sleeve back and there are faint scars around Gavin's wrist now. Pale and ragged, and Gavin's voice deserts him.

“Humor me,” Burnie says, no give in his voice, and Gavin does because he remembers that feeling of dread. Fear as he waited alone for hours in a room that echoed. Arms behind his back and that fluttering in his chest.

So Gavin learns.

He learns how to fight. And even though he's not the strongest or the most skilled, he's fast, he's agile. He's resourceful.

He learns how to shoot a gun, learns he's a decent shot. Does well on the range, is somewhat worse in less controlled situations, but he's adequate, and really, that's better than he was expecting.

He learns how to use a knife, gaining a few scars in the process but this is a thing that catches and holds his attention long enough to edge past adequate into meets expectations with the potential to exceed them one day.

There are other things he learns, too, working with the Roosters. Little bits and pieces he collects along the way, builds into himself, makes his own, and doesn't miss the way Burnie's smile turns quietly satisfied.

========

Gavin meets Geoff shortly after Burnie brings him to America. Learns he was the one with Burnie in England in the room that echoes.

Here and now, Geoff's the one who takes Gavin round to the gym where he learns to fight, teaches him how to throw a punch without breaking his thumb. The one who takes him to the shooting gallery and teaches him how to use a gun, hit the target more times than not. The one who hands him a knife and gives him a pat on the back as he sends him into the gym with an intimidating bear of a man and tells him he'll be back to pick up what's left of him after an hour with a little laugh as if it's a joke.

Geoff's the one who keeps an eye on Gavin when Burnie's not there to do it himself, who bundles Gavin into a car and takes him out. Gets him out of the base and the room Gavin works and into the city. Gets to know this little bit of America and thinks it's not complete rubbish after all, as Geoff laughs at him and that chill that never quite left Gavin's bones when he realized he'd well and truly fucked up starts to thaw.

It's Geoff who heads out to Los Santos a year after Gavin comes to America, head full of ideas, ambitions for that city, and Gavin who stays with the Roosters. Goes back down into that room with like-minded people and works and works and works.

And it's Geoff Burnie sends Gavin to, when things go to shit. When a rival crew rolls up and starts trouble with the Roosters. Enough that Burnie looks at his people and makes decisions that scatter them - “For now, Gavvo, for now,” - and Gavin packs his things and takes a flight out to Los Santos.

Geoff's the one waiting for him at the airport, looking a little more tired than the last time Gavin saw him, a little less bright.

“Hey,” Geoff says, arm pulling Gavin in for a hug, tight and crushing and like coming home. “Long time no see, dickhead.”

========

Geoff sets Gavin up with a room of his own, enough space for his computers, his gear, and leaves him to it.

Heads off to make his dreams, ambitions a reality in a city that crushes people like him underfoot day after day, dream after dream.

Gavin sits in his room, and the internet is a wonder. Opens up the world before him like nothing before. Endless possibilities and so much potential, and he throws himself forward without a second thought. Learns so much, modern day thief quiet and quick and clever, but this time he's a little bit older, a little bit smarter.

Takes all the things, the tricks he learned with the Roosters and applies them here. Sets one track down to root through the city of Los Santos, picking up little tidbits of information to piece back together into a greater whole to hand to Geoff. The other leads back to the Roosters, the beast stalking their borders, and Geoff sees, and Geoff knows.

“Fucking Christ, Gavin,” he says, tired and aching because he's here, and they're there, and still Burnie wants him here. Wants solid footing in Los Santos, wants Geoff to secure it, make the city his. “You need to sleep.”

Gavin shrugs, because yes, just not right now.

========

Six months, seven, and Burnie calls Gavin back to the Roosters when they've dealt with the rival gang. Broken them down to nothing and come back all the stronger for it.

Gavin goes, leaving behind his room and the network he's built there with Geoff and something like guilt, like regret, for the first time in his life.

He finds Jack, the moment he's back. Jack who's tired and this side of burned out after months fighting an enemy looking to kill the Roosters, their legacy. Edges smoothed down and a shadow of the man Gavin met months ago, a lifetime ago.

Gavin looks at him, this man who has always had Geoff's back, and says, “Geoff needs you,” because it's true, and they both know it.

Los Santos isn't the kind of city you go into alone with the kinds of ambitions, dreams Geoff has. You do, you don't succeed.

Geoff has resources most wouldn't, thanks to the Roosters, but even that's not enough in Los Santos.

So Gavin goes looking for Jack, and tells him this simple truth, and Jack.

He's always been Geoff's before anyone else's. Before Burnie, the Roosters, and he heads to Los Santos without looking back.

Burnie goes to Gavin not long after, head tilted just so, lips pulled up into an odd smile, and says, “Smart kid.”

========

Burnie starts taking Gavin along with him more and more when he tends to business, and Gavin learns, doesn't he. Learns and learns and learns, and people notice. Eyes moving from Burnie to him. Quiet, considering, and Gavin looks back.

He meets all kind of interesting people out there, away from his computers and in the wide open world where safety isn't certain, where shit goes wrong. And there's fear, natural, healthy, but it's not overwhelming and in time Gavin learns to push past even that.

It's how he meets Ray, strikes up a friendship with him. The kind where Gavin points him towards jobs that might end with a nice network of contacts for Ray, leaves hints about the ones that might not end well, but always, always it's Ray's choice in the end, isn't it.

The same way Ray will pass along information he comes into, whispers and rumors about people who look at the Roosters and thinks they've gotten complacent, too certain of their position in the world and think to topple them.

And when Geoff, who Gavin has remained in contact with, has a thread open to him always, mentions needing a sniper in a late night conversation, soft, quiet, Gavin says, “Well, I happen to know someone who might be a good fit?”

A week later, Brownman arrives in Los Santos and not long after that Burnie pushes into the little corner of the room Gavin works in with like-minded people and gives him a look. Asks if he's seen the news lately, heard anything from Los Santos, and Gavin shrugs, bit of a grin curving his lips.

“May have,” he answers, gestures at his machines, busy cracking problems for him. “Been busy, though. So much to do.”

Burnie hmms, and leaves him to it, amused.

So very, very amused

========

Gavin meets the infamous Vagabond by accident.

Coming back from a meet with an old contact in a city he's not all that familiar with. Burnie's insistence, helping Gavin stretch his wings, learn the way the currents work in their world, and cuts through a back alley on his way to the safe house.

It's where he runs across a figure in dark leather and a skull mask, and Gavin knows – of course he does – who it is. (He's young still, but not that stupid. Never that stupid.)

The Vagabond is staggering along using the brick wall of a building to keep him upright, leaving a streak of glistening red behind him. One hand curled around his ribs, the other clutching a gun in his hand.

Gavin comes to a stop, feels a faint fluttering in his chest when the Vagabond registers his presence. Head coming up along with the gun.

Gavin lifts his own hands, more worried the Vagabond will pull the trigger accidentally given the shape he's in, than anything else.

They stare at one another for a long moment, and then the Vagabond crumples with a pained wheeze, gun clattering out of his grip. Head still turned towards Gavin, as if he wants to see what's coming his way next, no matter what it may be.

Gavin stands there for a moment longer, biting his lip as he weighs his options. Considers the Vagabond. A man who's gained himself a fearsome reputation and has quite the impressive resume behind him bleeding out in a dirty back alley like none of it means a damn thing in the end.

Gavin's face twists, a quiet, “bugger me,” slipping out of him as he moves toward the injured man.

Realizes Burnie's been right this whole time, lamenting the fact that Gavin's going to get himself killed like this one day. All these terrible decisions he makes again and again and again. (Somewhere in there, though, there's a reason why Burnie listens to Gavin, why Burnie sends him on jobs like this.)

========

This isn't a city Gavin's familiar with, but the Roosters have a presence here. A few phone calls later and Gavin and the Vagabond are back at the safe house.

Gavin hovers, nervous, worried, as a woman sees to the Vagabond's injuries. The man watching them the whole time, quiet, something threatening in it, and when she's done, Gavin ushers her out, shoves money at her in a bid to keep news leaking back to Burnie immediately. (Word will still reach him, this Gavin knows like nothing else. He's just...hoping to buy a little time between now and then. Stave off the lecture, the yelling, a little bit longer.)

Gavin settles down with his laptop, thoughts too stirred up, flighty, distracted, to focus on work, so he falls back on an old standard. Pulls up YouTube and watches cat videos (as you do) all too aware of the Vagabond watching him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gavin blinks, looks up to see the Vagabond sitting up and staring at Gavin like he doesn't understand how someone could possibly be this stupid.

“Um?”

It's been a little over an hour, and Gavin's started to settle back into his bones, soothed by endless videos of cats and kittens and the antics they get up to, so it takes him a moment to redirect.

“I could have killed you,” The Vagabond says, and it seems as though it's meant to be a threat, or maybe a promise, and only comes out bewildered. “Back there, I could have killed you.”

There's also the implied I could kill you now, you stupid fuck, you left me my gun.

Gavin's fingers curl around the edge of his laptop as he watches the Vagabond. Pale, little streaks and smears of blood, bloodstained clothing, and still finds he doesn't regret the decisions that have led to now. (Yet, he thinks as the Vagabond continues to stare at him unnervingly, yet.)

“Yes, well,” Gavin says with a confidence he doesn't truly feel, realizing it's just the two of them in this cozy little safe house. “You didn't, did you.”

The Vagabond huffs, turning his gaze away from Gavin and looks down at himself. Bandages and stitches and a patchwork of scars with a few new ones in the making. Alive, clearly, and he looks back at Gavin, something hard in the angle of his head, the glint of his eyes through the mask.

“Why.”

And Gavin, he thinks about it for a long, long moment, laptop humming in his hands. Thinks about reputations and legacies, and how they don't mean a thing in the end if there isn't someone out there to remember. How even the infamous Vagabond would have been forgotten soon enough.

Tips his head to the side and offers up a helpless little shrug. “Why not?”

=========

Years later, when Gavin's been working for Geoff for a good while, when Los Santos knows better than to touch a hair on the head of any of Ramsey's people, the Vagabond will give Geoff the same answer.

Will go all the way to Los Santos, cutting down smaller fish in a big pond, greedy ones chasing after the bounty that's been placed on Gavin's head. Far too tempting a prize to ignore, one that breaks past the long-standing fear of Ramsey and the vengeance he brings down on anyone who hurts one of his.

He'll track Gavin down to a seedy little apartment building and something that was meant to be a simple meet, old friends catching up to talk business, and put a bullet in the heads of the men surrounding him, taunting him, small and mean and petty to the very end.

Years later and Gavin will grin up at Geoff, bloody and beaten when the Vagabond brings him back to the penthouse, and say, “Remember that friend I told you about?”

Geoff will stare blankly at him with Jack and Ray and Michael arrayed behind him, hands on guns as the Vagabond helps Gavin over to the couch.

“The one you keep sending cat videos to?” he'll ask, because that's all he knows, at a loss for anything else to say at the way Gavin leans into the Vagabond as though he isn't one of the most terrifying people in the world.

Geoff will look at the Vagabond, staring down at Gavin. This man with a fearsome reputation and an impressive resume behind him, and ask, “Why?”

The Vagabond will look over at him, something wry to it as he answers, “Why not?”

========

And later still, the Vagabond will take a job from Geoff, Gavin quietly smug as that first job turns to two, to three, and so on until the infamous Vagabond throws in his lot with the Fakes for good.

========

Burnie isn't happy with him, when Gavin gets back.

Stares at him for a long, long time before he sighs.

“Fucking idiot,” he says, and Gavin smiles, small and helpless because Burnie's not wrong, is he.

========

Not long afterward, news reaches Gavin that Dan's gone and gotten himself into a spot of trouble, and Gavin heads to England.

The last time he was here he was young and too stupid by far, clueless and naive in so many ways. This time he has Burnie and the Roosters at his back, and Dan to think of, and he's older now, smarter.

Dan greets him with a hug, a “B!” and after all this time, Gavin feels a little piece of himself slot home, feels something click into place.

It's a tangled mess Dan's gotten himself into, and Gavin dives into it right beside him cutting their way clear with ruthless efficiency.

When Gavin heads back to America, he leaves a thread with Dan, stronger now than what he left behind years ago. Roosters and Fakes holding the other end when Gavin can't, some measure of peace of mind for Gavin in it.

========

Gavin hears the rumors of Michael when he returns to America. Whispered things floating about base, that Jack was back for a short little while. Chasing down someone who'd caught his attention, caught Burnie's attention.

Someone who had a talent with explosives working for a shitty little gang in Jersey of all places.

Gavin hears Jack is the one to put out feelers, and while the guy had been interested – and who wouldn't be, with the Roosters, the Fakes, taking note of you? – there were prior commitments involved. A crew and debts and the kind of loyalty that runs deep, the kind of thing the Roosters, the Fakes value.

Gavin hears they leave the offer open, and that this guy says he'll consider it in a way that means he won't, really, but thanks all the same, that's the thing that piques his curiosity most.

He does a little digging, and then he takes a little trip. Quick little flight out east, back before anyone notices, really.

It doesn't take him long for Gavin to realize Geoff would love this guy, is probably why Jack came back for a bit, once Gavin finds him, has the chance to talk to him.

Smart and sharp-tongued. Clever, and honest. Brutally so at times.

Gavin finds him at a little burger place – and frowns at the bruises, cuts on the guy's face and hands. The way he holds himself, aches and bruises and unable to show weakness in their world, not like this.

Feels a little curl of anger at the way this guy, Michael, watches him.

Warily, because he knows who Gavin works for, figures at his back casting long shadows, but there's something else to it, too. Something Gavin knows.

And this is the thing, Burnie's not the first person Gavin's worked for.

Back in England there had been others, before Burnie, the Roosters, because he was young and too stupid by far and in over his head from the beginning.

There were a few gangs, crews there, people he worked with after getting into trouble after trouble after trouble. People who didn't give a damn about those working for them past how useful, helpful they were. Gavin's been knocked around and made to feel small by people like that, and can see a little of it in Michael and the way he still wants to bite back, consequences be damned.

And Gavin likes him, the way Michael meets his eyes squarely despite that, doesn't let Gavin get away with things. Solid and steady and this anger to him that burns.

Michael thinks he's there on behalf of Burnie, of Jack, and Gavin lets him because it sounds better than Gavin's endless curiosity getting the better of him once more, his knack of landing himself in trouble thanks to his poor decision making.

He brings up the offer Burnie and Jack made to him again, and when Michael starts to decline, Gavin slides a card over to him with a number that leads back to Geoff on it.

“If you're not interested in working for Burnie,” Gavin says, something sly in his voice that catches Michael's attention. “You might want to consider working for Geoff Ramsey over in Los Santos. He's got big plans for that city, and something tells me you'd love a challenge like that.”

Michael's hand twitches towards the card before he scowls suspiciously at Gavin.

“Right,” he growls. “Like you know anything about me, you British fuck.”

Gavin smiles, crooked, and shrugs.

“Jack's there.”

He sees Michael hesitate, and his smile softens.

Burnie is so very Burnie. Larger than life and full of ambition and goals and dreams, and that can be overwhelming at times, Gavin knows. Geoff's like that too, in his own way, but Jack.

Jack is steady, calm. Kind in a world with little care for such things.

“Think about it, yeah?” Gavin says, voice quiet as he places the card in Michael's hand. “Burnie and Geoff look after their own.”

========

It doesn't happen immediately, no. Michael's stubbornly loyal, but eventually something happens to snap the ties of loyalty between Michael and his crew and he goes to Los Santos.

Gavin knows, because Geoff calls him up, asks him what he did to piss Michael off that he came in looking like he'd gone a few rounds and yelling about some stupid British fuck.

Gavin grins, laughs, and says, “I don't know what you're on about, Geoff.”

========

Dan gets into trouble, again, and Gavin goes to lend a hand.

Things don't go as smoothly this time, no, because they both almost die a dozen times over before Dan catches a bullet in his lung and Gavin gets a knife in his leg and somehow still manage to call it a victory when the dust settles.

========

Burnie sends him to Los Santos after that, tired and helpless and so damn worried. Hugs Gavin, and says, “Get the fuck over there, before Geoff brings his boys here to drag you back.”

Gavin goes, ache in his chest because there's something final about it this time, that long flight to Los Santos.

But then there's Geoff, waiting for him at the airport with Jack beside him.

Geoff takes one look at Gavin, and swears, low, before dragging Gavin into a hug, tight and crushing and enough like coming home to ease the ache in his chest. “Long time no see, dickhead.”

The drive to the penthouse is spent with Geoff filling Gavin in on the latest developments with the Fakes, Gavin listening with half an ear as he watches the city blur past.

He's tired, Gavin is, life at some kind of crossroads and he can't be bothered to care overmuch.

Michael's there when they walk into the penthouse, and Gavin feels himself smile at that. Glad to see him there, a different man than he was all those months ago.

Michael walks up to him, eyes narrowing as he takes Gavin in. Scruffy and bit bruised up, noticeable limp and dull ache in his leg, and sighs. Curls his hand around the back of Gavin's neck and pulls him over to the couch where someone is watching them, game controller in his hand. (Kerry, Gavin learns later. Old friend of Michael's and the impetus for Michael to call Jack up in the middle of the night sounding far too young and worried asking if the offer was still open.)

“You look like shit, asshole,” Michael says, gruff, but there's no mistaking the protective way he's looking at Gavin, the way he puts himself between Gavin and the others even though he has to know they're safe.

Gavin appreciates it, though, too tired to deal with Geoff's worry and Jack's concern at the moment, and gives Michael a small smile, grateful.

========

The ache in Gavin's chest eases, lessens, as he re-learns Los Santos. Finds where he fits in with the Fakes, surprised at the way they fit together against all reason.

Geoff and Jack familiar, known. The way Ray comes and goes, welcome always assured. The way Michael keeps an eye on all of them, angry and annoyed and fiercely protective. Kerry and the odd space he occupies, quiet and watchful and so, so clever.

Gavin, and the room Geoff's had set aside for him for years, enough space for his computers, his gear, and smirks when Gavin looks at him askance.

“What, you think I'd let Burnie keep you? Nah, you're ours, idiot. Get used to it.”

He does, and laughs to himself whenever Geoff turns to him with pained expression after some bit of stupidity aided by Michael and Ray and Kerry, and every so often, Jack.

Thinks, yes, this, when Dan comes to visit. Sees the chaos that is Gavin's life now, and asks if he remembers when they were both young and too stupid by far, wondering if they'd ever find a place to call home and mean it.

========

Gavin's on a job for Burnie, doing an old friend a favor, isn't he, and Ryan comes along with him because none of them like or trust the man Gavin's to meet with, when they stumble on Jeremy.

Rollins is mean and cruel and petty for the sake of it, but it's the price of doing business, isn't it. Got to swallow down their pride and all that.

Even so, Gavin doesn't like the way Ryan's eyes shutter when the man, Rollins, leads them to some dingy basement arena and they see the cages.

“Lovely,” Gavin says, revulsion rising in him as they pass cheering crowds yelling for blood, mindless and stupid and dangerous.

Rollins laughs, oblivious, and Gavin decides then and there to absolutely ruin the man, no matter how long it takes him. (Days, months, years from now it doesn't matter, he'll do it.)

Ryan must see it in his face, head tilting just so, and Gavin smiles. They'll do it, then, bring Rollins and his little empire down, nothing but smoldering rubble all around him.

Gavin exchanges small talk with Rollins, pulling at the polite trappings they bother with even here, now, until the lights go down and two figures enter the arena.

Gavin watches because Rollins is watching him, gauging his reaction and planning accordingly, the deal Burnie wants Gavin to make on the line. So Gavin watches, sees the smaller figure – short and stocky and seemingly all muscle strut to the center of the ring, arms held wide as he plays to the crowd.

He hides it well, but there's not missing the way he moves, previous injuries and not enough time to let them heal properly, and of course there wouldn't be. Not when someone with Rollins' reputation is behind this.

“Defending champion,” Rollins says, something vile in his voice, and Gavin knows, knows, he has his claws in the man in the ring somehow. “Kid can take a lot of punishment.”

Out of the corner of his eye Gavin sees Ryan shift, catches the disgusted look in his eyes when they make brief eye contact.

And then the fight starts, hard, brutal, bones breaking and blood flying and Gavin watches because he has no other choice.

========

Later once the deal is arranged to everyone's satisfaction, once business is done, Gavin does some research. Makes some calls, pulls out his laptop while Ryan reads in the bed next to him, humming some song or other quietly under his breath.

“Son of a bitch,” Gavin hisses, angry all over again at what he finds, so, so close to saying the hell with it and burning Rollins' empire down right now with the bastard at the center of it.

“You should call Jack,” Ryan says, seemingly focused on his book still, in spite of the slow curl of a smile on his face.

“Oh?” Gavin says, powering his laptop down, sliding Ryan a look.

Ryan grins. “Get him to set a room up for the kid.”

Gavin huffs, fond exasperation.

“Oh, please,” Ryan says, setting his book aside, turning to look at Gavin. “Like you don't have a bad habit of collecting strays.”

Gavin opens his mouth to deny it because that's just not true. Burnie's the one who does that – look at Gavin, the way the Roosters have grown since then. Look at Geoff, at Jack, and the way the Fakes are growing.

Not him, never him.

“Ray called,” Ryan says, laughter in his voice as he tugs Gavin's laptop away. “Said he'll be in Los Santos in a week, wanted to get together for a video game marathon if we're not in the middle of trying to get ourselves killed in outrageous ways.”

Ryan pauses, admits, “I paraphrased, a bit there, but you get the gist, I'm sure.”

Gavin winces, because -

Ray's more of a vagabond than Ryan these days, and that's fine, because the Fakes have expanded their territory, and Burnie can always use a good sniper. Ray takes jobs here and there, working for the Roosters and the Fakes, but always seems to find his way back to Los Santos in the end, and it works.

It works in the way Geoff and Jack do, the way Michael and Kerry and all the others in between do. The way Ryan does, and the prick is still laughing.

“Shut up,” Gavin says, weak protest.

“Make me,” Ryan teases, and Gavin -

Gavin glares at him, this exasperating dork of a man. Someone feared by so many, brutal and ruthless when the circumstances call for it, but right now, right here?

He's smirking up at Gavin, something soft and warm in his eyes, calloused hand reaching up to cup Gavin's cheek.

“All right,” Gavin says, voice going soft and quiet on him, as he lets Ryan pull him down for a kiss, “Since you insist.”

========

A few days later Gavin strolls up to a little cafe one Jeremy Dooley tends to visit at lunchtime on a certain day, Ryan in tow.

He spots Jeremy in a back booth, hood of his jacket pulled up, Aviators on his face and from a distance he looks like anyone his age hanging out in a cafe and not a vicious underground fighter.

“Urgh,” Gavin utters, turning his head to look up at Ryan when he chuckles.

“Problem?” Ryan asks, because he's insufferable, absolutely insufferable.

“I didn't think to check to see if he's colorblind,” Gavin hisses, eyes feeling a bit like they're bleeding as he beholds Jeremy's terrible fashion choices.

Ryan hums, placing a hand in the middle of Gavin's back and giving a gentle nudge. “People are starting to stare,” he murmurs, sweet smile on his face as he nods to a waiter eyeing them warily.

Gavin sighs, and pushes on putting on a brave smile as he does. Sees the exact moment when Jeremy notices them, going tense and wary when he recognizes Gavin. Eyes ticking over his shoulder to Ryan and puts two and two together.

“So you're Jeremy,” Gavin says, Ryan standing behind him. There's sunlight coming in through the windows, blinding light like a spotlight on the table Jeremy's chosen.

“And you're Gavin.” Jeremy says, nervously, and Gavin feels laughter building up in him at the certain sense of déjà vu.

========

Mere months later, and Jeremy's fashion sense has only gotten worse.

“For fuck's sake, Jeremy,” Gavin laments, eyes turned away from the blindingly white cowboy hat he's wearing proudly. “Why?”

And Jeremy, the little shit, smirks and says, “Aesthetic.”

Gavin looks helplessly at him, at the others all around him laughing until they cry, so damned amused, and thinks, This is my life, then, is it? and can't find it in him to regret any of it.

#fahc #fahc fic #freewood #fanfic #vagrant fic #this is one of the most self-indulgent things i've ever written???#also #i have no impulse control

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everlarkficexchange · 8 years ago

Text

The Naked Truth

Written by: @peetaspikelets

Dialogue Prompt: this has got to be the strangest day of my life…(submitted by @xerxia31)

Rating: M (for nudity and language)

A/N: I need to thank Mr Pikelet for helping me bring this story to life. He brought ‘an event’ to my attention and after my initial shock and a bit of a giggle I thought I have to everlark this some how.

A BIG thank you to my beta @sponsormusings for her amazing guidance, support and advice. I would be lost without you!

Enjoy!

Katniss hears the ringing of the front door bell as she’s putting on the final touches to her outfit. With fumbling fingers, she fixes the back of her pearl stud earring and shoves her feet into the only pair of strappy black heels she owns, praying that by the end of the night her feet won’t ache and swell with juicy blisters.

She gives her reflection a quick once over in the dust-covered mirror sitting in the far corner of her bedroom - her molten grey eyes stare back at her with nervousness and hesitancy. Taking a deep breath, she lowers her gaze and fretfully smooths out the wrinkles the iron failed to press out of the forest green spaghetti dress that clings to her body and highlights her small frame. It was the most expensive and date appropriate outfit she could find. She’d forgotten that she even had it, stumbling across it by accident behind all her winter coats at the back of her closest, ignored and with the sale tags still on. Katniss has never had a place or the opportunity to wear it out anywhere until tonight.

She rarely goes out on dates, especially blind dates and isn’t the type of person who enjoys socialising and fluttering around aimlessly like an overzealous butterfly high on life. Her work colleagues are her only friends, but even that’s a loose statement depending on who you talk to. She much prefers to stay in the warm comfort and safety of her own cocoon since moving to Panem three years earlier. She likes that she has full ownership of the remote control and can watch any reality TV show she wants without the embarrassment and likelihood of snide remarks and ridicule. She’s a creature of habit, one who prefers to curl up in her favorite armchair, dressed in sweats and enjoying a cup of creamy hot chocolate, no matter what the weather’s like outside.

However, a couple of months ago on Katniss’ birthday – celebrated alone, exactly how she preferred it - fractures of doubt had begun to appear out of nowhere, threatening the fragile existence of her perfect bubble. It was that night while eating a cupcake she’d bought for herself as a treat that she’d realized that the mangy, pain in the ass cat she was looking after while her sister Prim was away at school, had started to hang out with the identical flea ball next door, and seemed to be having more of a social – and sex - life than her.

The wakeup had been like a bomb going off, ringing loud and clear in her ears and it had forced her take a good, hard look at herself. She’d realised she didn’t like what she saw - she was thirty two, had no real friends, no potential boyfriends waiting for her in the wings, and not even a single hobby she could draw any happiness from. She was living the same day over and over again like Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day. The only difference between them was that she had the ability to actually change things, and yet was still purposely choosing to live this way on a daily basis. Deep down she’d known that she’d needed to break free from her comfortable haven and start experiencing more of what life had to offer beyond sitting on a couch. At the rate she was going, the only legacy she would be leaving in this world was the imprint of her rear end on an acrylic cushion.

She’d already known what was holding her back. She hadn’t needed an expensive psychiatrist to help her figure it out, it had been as clear as day – fear. Fear had been her biggest adversary since she’d been a child and she’d lost her father in a car accident. The crippling anxiety and the worrying thoughts that something bad might happen to her had been annoying and unwanted like foot rot, but they’d stuck. But she’d realised that now that she was older and matured, and was able to identify her triggers and the reasons behind them, she’d hoped she could lock all that away in a little black box and bury it 6 feet under. She knew she just needed to get out there and take that initial leap into the big, wide world and see where she landed.

Which is exactly why the doorbell is ringing. Katniss had finally succumbed to months of bribery and heavy pressure from her work colleague, Madge, and agreed to go out on a blind date with a guy from the marketing department. She absently lists everything she knows about him in her head - his name is Cato Jackson and he works as an associate advisor for District Advertising. He enjoys lifting weights, camping…and apparently arriving fifteen minutes early to pick her up for their date. The doorbell rings again and Katniss tries not to grit her teeth in annoyance. She grabs her purse off the bed and heads to the front door, her heels clicking on the tiled floor, mimicking the rapid beating of her heart as she gets closer. Taking a deep breath, she swallows her anxiety and the internal need to pretend she’s not home and swings open the door quickly before she can change her mind.

No, no, no. Absolutely not. This is a terrible idea. Has Madge lost her mind?

It’s all she can think when her eyes fall upon the strange man’s overbearing frame that’s covering half her doorway, posing like he’s on the cover of GQ magazine. This hulk of a man is triple her size and his broad shoulders are straining hard against his navy shirt, like he’s about to break out and destroy half of the Capitol. Meanwhile, his blond hair looks like it’s been bleached or he’s spent way too much time under the hot rays of the sun, and the length is so short that it makes his head look out of proportion with his body. Madge had said he liked to lift weights but that would have to be a gross understatement. He’s obviously a junkie who lives at the gym 24/7, who has protein shakes for every meal and injects high doses of steroids into his body on a regular basis.

“Katniss.” His voice comes out rough and scratchy, like the sound of scraping sandpaper.

Her face is tight, but she manages to curl her mouth and muster a polite smile. Her stomach twists and clenches as she watches him blatantly look her up and down, clearly admiring her small, toned body. His gaze lingers a few seconds longer than necessary on the breasts that are being pushed up to effect thanks to the tight bodice of her dress.

Oh god, this dress is a mistake. This whole thing is a mistake, her brain screams. I can’t go out with him. Why on earth did I agree to this? I feel like a piece of meat being displayed on a butcher’s block! Frantically she tries to think of an excuse to cancel the date at the last minute, her mind racing before he speaks up again.

“So if you’re ready, I thought we could go and check out Cinna’s Art Gallery in the city.”

Katniss pauses and her eyes widen dramatically. Any thoughts of an escape plan now lie in the background to sit and simmer. That sentence. It was the last thing she was expecting to come out of his mouth. She’s quite amazed he even knows what an art gallery is, not to mention the fact that he’s offering to take her there on their first date. She was under the impression from Madge that he was a typical beers and football kind of guy and that they’d probably head to a bar for the night. Katniss had just been hoping whichever off the wall establishment they’d found themselves in would at least serve some decent food so she didn’t have to eat a bowl of peanuts for dinner. But maybe she’s been reading this whole situation wrong. Katniss knows she can often judge people harshly and jump to conclusions, so perhaps this time her assumptions about Cato Jackson are incorrect. Relief appears and sweeps through her system as she lowers her defences. She gives him a true, genuine smile and can’t help but feel a little excited.

“Cinna’s Art Gallery?” She confirms. “That actually sound amazing. I’ve never been there before.”

“Really? Well you’re in for a treat. I heard this exhibition is supposed to be…um…one of a kind,” he answers, stumbling on his words before chuckling. “I went ahead and already purchased our tickets.”

“Sounds great,” she replies beaming, and steps out onto the porch. She looks down to appraise her outfit for the tenth time. “Oh wait! Am I dressed alright for the exhibit? I know galleries can be fancy. It’s not too revealing is it?”

He gives her a smirk and looks her up and down again, his eyes turning bright with lust. “You look hot, there’s no need to worry about your dress. We’ll be the envy of everyone there. Trust me,” he winks.

That’s…odd, she thinks, but she lets it go and follows him down the footpath until they reach his shiny BMW parked in the driveway. Katniss tries not to show her displeasure when she notices his right tire is sitting on top of her small garden bed of primroses, the weight of the car crushing the beautiful and delicate flowers she only just planted two weeks ago.

————————

Standing in the large foyer at Cinna’s Art Gallery is like being part of a blissful dream you never want to wake up from. Katniss has never stepped inside such a building, one that can only be described as majestic. With wide eyes and a goofy grin, she looks like a kid on Christmas morning as she takes it all in. Her neck strains as she admires the huge cathedral formed ceilings and clear glass windows that are showing off the night sky. The universe is putting on its own exhibition tonight with its twinkling stars and orbiting planets, each one shining bright against the dark backdrop.

Returning her gaze to the room around her, she’s mesmerised by all the stunning pieces that are laid out on display in the arrival area where they’re waiting in line to enter. Every piece is unique and she’s itching to step out of her spot so she can take a closer look. She can only imagine what kind of beautiful wonders are waiting for her inside the actual exhibition. Just the ambience in the room is humming with excitement and electricity, but instead of it causing her alarm and the need to run back to the safe confines of her house, it brings her a sense of comfort she’s can’t explain.

“So what’s the show about?” Katniss asks curiously, turning her head to look at Cato. They haven’t talked much since getting into his car, and at the moment he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to her. Instead, he’s staring straight ahead, his neck craning around an older man with a shaved head who’s standing in front of him, and looking around like he’s searching for something. She follows his line of sight, but all she can see is a group of people being politely escorted to a room on the left hand side of the building after they’ve had their tickets scanned. That must be the entrance to the exhibition, Katniss thinks.

“Cato,” she tries again, her voice now louder to get his attention. It does the trick. He turns around to stare at her with an annoyed expression on his face. “What’s the exhibition about?”

“Oh, um, you know…art and stuff.”

Katniss’ brows narrow at his unwillingness to share. She doesn’t understand why it has to be a big secret. There must be some reason why he picked this place tonight. “Well it’s got to be something in particular,” she prompts. “This place is packed. The name of the exhibition should be written on our tickets.”

He turns to her with a smile, though his eyes are cold. “Can’t a guy surprise a girl on a date anymore?”

They reach the counter where a young woman with long red hair and a kind smile greets them. Cato pulls the tickets out from his back pocket and hands them to her to scan. Katniss tries to sneak a peek, but Cato’s large, veiny hands cover most of them. Something unsettling begins to wash over her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention as she feels his hand find her lower back and begin to nudge her along, heading to the room on the left.

With a shake of her head and any semblance of social decorum now out the window, she digs her heels into the granite flooring and forces them to stop mid walk. “What’s going on?” She asks turning to him, her voice growing high with suspicion. “I don’t understand why you’re being so secretive. What’s the exhibition about? Why won’t you tell me?” He stands still, staring down at her intently for a few moments, his body vibrating with heat and refusing to give her an answer. “I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me,” she pushes.

Cato drops his mask of stone and groans with enough exaggeration that it causes a few people to look over. He drives his fingers roughly through his hair. “Women,” he whispers with a huff. “Fine! It’s a nude exhibition, alright? The artists are naked! They’re the exhibition. You happy?”

It takes Katniss’ brain several moments to catch up and process what he’s said. “A nude exhibition?” She whispers back uncertainly, shock clearly written across her face. Her mouth gapes open a few times like a fish out of water but she’s still not sure what to say to that unexpected confession. Nudity. The artists are nude. Naked like the day they were born, she thinks and feels her cheeks flame with heat. Katniss has never viewed something like that before. She’s always been shy and uncomfortable around nudity. She’s only had one boyfriend and that was before she moved to Panem. The relationship lasted seven months and during that time they only ever had sex with the lights off. Katniss has always been self – conscious about her body, never comfortable in her own skin, no matter how many times Darius told her she was gorgeous. She never believed him. And now just thinking about what awaits for her inside that large hall where a group of male and female artists will be fully nude and standing around on display… well it causes anxious butterflies to appear and dance around in her belly like they’re trying to fight each other to escape.

Her shock of the situation however soon quickly turns to boiling rage – at herself. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted him. Of course he wasn’t into art, he had his own agenda for tonight - using their date as an excuse to come and ogle other women. She’s never felt so angry…and hurt.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He says, reading her expression. He has the gallantry to look defeated. “It’s just I thought this would be something different to do on a first date – something we could experience together. Madge said you wanted to get out and explore life and shit…”

Her mouth forms a tight line. She can’t believe Madge actually told him that after she confided in her. Ugh! She tries to take a few calming breaths to mellow out the resentment she now feels towards both of them. What he said, though, was true. She does need to get out and explore new things and this exhibition would definitely fit into that category and yank her out of her comfort zone. This type of art is not her thing. She was seriously expecting just to see a bunch of paintings and sculptures from famous artists or local talents – nothing too confrontational and confronting…but maybe she could do this. Looking around at the sheer number of people who have turned up tonight it seems like this type of exhibition interests a lot of people from all walks of life.

“It’s a movement thing,” Cato continues, trying to convince her. “You never know, it could be fun…” He gives her a devastatingly handsome smile, one that’s almost convincing with his pearly whites and eyes shining bright. But his mouth curls in a way that causes Katniss to sense a small amount of doubt about his sentiments.

What the hell, she thinks. She’s here and she doesn’t want to make a scene by leaving, especially when they’d already gotten their tickets scanned and an usher is waiting patiently nearby. Besides taking Cato’s lying out of the equation, this exhibition could be good for her. She should do this for herself. “I wish you’d told me earlier,” she tells him tightly before softening her tone. “But alright, I’ll go in.”

He looks surprised for a moment that she’s actually agreed to go in with him but quickly covers it up with a flirty grin. “That’s great,” he replies, taking her hand in his. It feels cold and stiff. “I just know we’re going to have a lot of fun together and I hear,” he leans down and whispers in a conspiratorial tone, “that it can be good for foreplay.”

She swallows the bile rising at the back of her throat and shakes away the invisible sensation of creepy crawlies scuttling along her neck from where his breath just laid upon her skin. Do most women fall for his charm? If that’s the case, he’s going to be sorely disappointed when the night is over, as absolutely nothing like that is going to be happening. Ever. As soon as the opportunity arises she’ll be hailing down a cab and hightailing it out of there before he even realises she’s gone.

As the usher greets them with a pleased smile, he passes Cato a key and directs them to go straight inside the room on the left. Katniss isn’t sure what the key is about. Maybe it’s connected to something in the exhibition, like some kind of symbolism. She’s not too sure, as she’s never been good at finding hidden meanings.

She bites her lip nervously as they move closer to the door. At least I’ll have one positive thing to tell Prim about tonight, she thinks. It didn’t surprise Katniss one bit that her sister literally screamed in delight when she’d told her she had agreed to go on a blind date during one of their weekly skype catch ups. And knowing her persistent sister, she’ll be wanting every minuscule detail.

“Here we go,” Cato announces, opening the unmarked door and allowing her to walk through. She makes her way inside, gearing herself up for what she’s about to come face to face with, but instead she stops in her tracks, afraid that her eyes are deceiving her. She scans the room closely trying to make sense about what she’s seeing, and the realisation hits her like a ton of bricks, her eyes widening in horror. Every one of her limbs freeze and her body stiffens. Even the heat radiating off Cato’s body against her back is not helping her move. And she really wants to move so she can get as far away from him as possible while screaming at the top of her lungs, “How dare you?” and “What the hell is this?”

Standing in front of her are about twenty naked people. Bare ass naked like the day they were born. Male and female. Their bodies all different sizes; big, medium, small. Toned, saggy. Every inch of their skin is exposed and hanging out for everyone to see. But that’s not what’s horrifying her – it’s the fact that these naked bodies don’t belong to the artists. She recognises these people - they were just waiting in line with them to view the exhibition. The old man with the shaved head who’d been in front of them is now standing a few feet away, wearing his birthday suit and scratching his nuts. With dazed eyes, Katniss watches as he places all his clothes into a locker, which she can now see is one of many spread out across the entire room where people are shedding their clothes. She eyes the key in his hand, noting it’s identical to the one Cato received, as he locks the small metal compartment. He gives them both a kind smile as he walks past them and heads towards another door at the back of the room, where a sign on display says, ‘Exhibition Entrance.’

She feels Cato pushing her forward, towards a locker that’s situated at the back of the room. Immediately she rises out of her stupor and rounds on him. “What the fuck is this?” She hisses through clenched teeth, and tries to keep her voice low. But there’s no mistaking the anger seeping out of every pore of her body.

“Oh come on, what’s the difference?” He defends sharply. He clearly knows what she’s talking about. “It’s no big deal. You said you were fine with naked art.”

“Yes! But that’s when I thought only the artists would be nude. I didn’t think…I had…to…” She starts to stammer as her throat begins to close up with an emotion she doesn’t want to deal with right now. Instead she turns it into anger. Anger is good; it’s familiar and powerful and besides, he deserves the full brunt of her wrath after this implausible stunt he’s just pulled. “I can’t believe you brought me here on a first date!” She yells back. “You tricked me. You’re a liar!”

Out of the corner of her eye she can now see the majority of people leaving the change room, scurrying out the door like rats in order to get away from the dispute they’re bearing witness to. If she wasn’t filled with so much rage she could probably find the humor in watching a bunch of naked people running for their lives.

“Listen, I know I wasn’t completely upfront with you about everything,” he says like owning up to his deception will make everything better. “But don’t you think you’re overacting a bit? Most women would love to do this with me.” To emphasise his point he begins to unbutton his shirt, dragging the material down his shoulders like he’s getting ready to model. His tanned and muscular chest glistens under the changing room’s downlights and she wonders in disgust if he purposefully slicked himself up with baby oil before he came to pick her up.

With every article of clothing he takes off, her mouth only twists further and further into rage and horror. He played her like a damn fool, to the point that she ignored her own instincts – twice. She opens her mouth to let fly every single, hateful word she has for him, until out of the corner of her eye she’s distracted by another couple entering the room and she’s forced to pause mid breath. Their presence is like a stop button on a remote control, pausing a vital scene in a movie. The overzealous giggling coming from the woman cements Katniss’ attention as they close the door. The man has his arm wrapped around the woman’s waist and they both have huge smiles on their faces like they don’t have a care in the world. The man is tall, with a stocky build and broad shoulders. His blond, wavy hair curls at the tips of his ears and his piercing blue eyes stare at the blond woman in his arms like he’s the luckiest man on earth. Walking past them to find their locker, they greet Katniss and Cato with a smile, unaware they’ve just stepped into a potential war zone. Just looking at them it’s obvious they’re very much in love and devoted to one another. For the first time it makes Katniss envious of a romantic relationship and her heart starts to hurt. She takes in every line of expression and curve of their lips as they whisper and help each other out of their clothes lovingly. They’re truly a captivating couple.

“You said it yourself that you wanted to try something new,” Cato says, breaking into her reverie. “What could be better than this?”

Using a quieter voice as she doesn’t want the perfect couple looking over and listening in on their private conversation, she replies coldly. “Yes, that’s true. But I also wanted to try new things on my own terms. Not to be forced into it and not to do something so….” scary, terrifying, she thinks, but she doesn’t voice those fears out loud.

“Don’t be so pure, Katniss,” he berates, taking off his slacks and leaving him in his underwear that leaves nothing to the imagination. Katniss takes a step back. “Wait a minute - are you a virgin?” He asks suddenly, alarmed by her reaction. “Is that why you’re upset? Because you’ve never seen a naked body before?”

Pure? Virgin? “What does that have to do with anything?” She snarls. “Oh my god, what is wrong with you? Are you deluded? Did you actually think you were doing me a favor by bringing me here?” His audacity has her reeling. “And by the way, the only thing that isn’t pure around here is your intentions.” She doesn’t care anymore if the flawless couple can hear her now, she’s too enraged at his stupidity to hold back. “I can’t believe I gave you another chance – again,” she scowls and to her horror she feels a pesky, burning feeling start to form at the back of her eyes and she wills her body with all her might to stop it immediately. But instead her vision becomes blurry and her chin begins to quiver. “You’re an asshole!” She cries out before lifting her hand and slapping him across the face. The sound resembles a gunshot and it echoes through the room, making the ideal couple look over at them, startled. Katniss feels her hand vibrating with hot heat as she tries to shake away the pain but she gets no relief. Taking one last, furious look at Cato, who is holding his crimson cheek in shock – Good! I hope I left a mark - she runs to the nearest door, hoping it’s an exit out of the gallery.

But instead of finding sweet relief from the date from hell, she discovers she’s not outside but instead standing alone in a bathroom that looks so pristine and high tech she wonders briefly if she’s stepped onto a space shuttle. She peers over her shoulder to make sure Cato isn’t following her. He’s not, but not wanting to chance it, she moves into the middle toilet cubicle and locks the door. In defeat, she drops the toilet lid down loudly and sits herself on top of it with a loud sigh. Her shoulders break first; trembling and shaking under the heavy weight of tonight’s events and soon watery tears descend and fall, sliding down her heated cheeks. She sniffles and wipes them away hastily. She shouldn’t have been surprised about how her night turned out. The odds were never in her favor. Why did she even try?

Tonight was just a reminder that she’s doomed to be alone forever. Stuck in a life where her destiny resembles the life of a mouse. A creature who spends most of its days running around aimlessly on a wheel, who does the same thing over and over again and never having any hope in changing it or going anywhere.

Just the thought causes another fat tear to slip down her cheek and she rips a piece of toilet paper off to dab at her swollen eyes. I’ve failed, she thinks and for the first time in years she lets herself truly break and feel the grief of her lonely and possibly insignificant life.

She doesn’t know how long she remains in this state. She only stops when there are no more salty tears to shed and the unsettling thought of how she’s going to get out of here hits her. Her worrying, however, is short lived when the bathroom door unexpectedly creaks open. She stops and freezes as footsteps pad inside, listening intently as she tries to remember if Cato walked with a heavy gait. It’s obvious where she’s hiding. The thin wooden toilet door between them offers her very little protection and there’s no way she will be opening it up willingly for him, especially not after slapping him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the type of guy who would use threats or an element of force with her after an incident like that. She pulls out her phone, ready to swipe Madge’s number when an unfamiliar and masculine voice speaks up.

“Hello.”

Taken back by the stranger’s greeting she remains silent.

“Are you alright?” He speaks again, his voice kind.

She sucks in a sharp breath and feels an unusual heat creep upon her skin. She doesn’t know why but she’s taken back by the soothing sound of the stranger’s voice. There’s something comforting about it, like warm honey sliding lazily down your throat.

He coughs. “If you’re worried about the guy you were with, don’t be. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

The relief that Cato isn’t out there anymore hits her instantaneously. The tension leaves her shoulders and her whole body relaxes in reply.

“Are you hurt?” He asks worriedly.

The question startles her. “No,” she finally answers, finding her voice. But it comes out hoarse and she hates the fact it makes it obvious that she’s been crying.

“Can you please open the door so I can make sure you’re okay?”

The sweet pleading in his voice convinces her that the stranger’s concern is genuine. She nods, but then realises he can’t see her. She doesn’t want to leave this tiny stall just yet so she leans over and unlocks the door. Slowly it swings open and reveals the face of her mystery man. She’s quick to assess that it’s the same man from the change room who’s part of the captivating dynamic duo. Although now instead of standing in front of her naked, he’s wearing a long, white terry cloth robe.

“There you are,” he smiles, but his eyes can’t hide the shadow of concern. “It’s okay. My name’s Peeta.”

“Katniss,” she murmurs, meeting his gaze.

“It’s nice to meet you, Katniss.” His smile then drops, and takes on a serious expression as his eyes rake over her body like he’s looking for any signs of injuries. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She nods. Now that she’s in close proximity to him she manages to catch a whiff of his scent, which she recognises immediately as cinnamon and dill. It reminds her of her favorite bakery she likes to frequent before work. Their cheese buns and hot chocolate are to die for.

Staring up she can’t help but be mesmerised by the profundity in his ocean blue eyes, almost to the point that she feels like she’s drowning in them. Her attention is drawn to the muscular chest that peeks through the top layer of his robe and she has the sudden urge to kiss and swirl her tongue all over it. He’s got handsome and wholesome written all over him, like he’s been plucked out of a 1950’s sitcom. Her eyes travel across his body trying to map out and remember what he looked like naked just a few minutes ago. The momentary flash she got of his gorgeous body while she was fighting with Cato is now imprinted permanently behind her eyelids. But then the image of the happy woman he was with takes centre stage and the show is over. She feels terrible and shakes her head in shame. “Thank you,” she replies quietly. “It was nice of you to come back here and check up on me. But really I’m fine. You should go back out there to your girlfriend and enjoy the exhibition.”

He blinks, confused for a second. “But…I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Her eyes narrow and she looks at him baffled. “But - back in the change room, you were all over that blond woman.”

She watches as his features transform briefly from one of confusion to a look of understanding, before relief reaches his lips and he lets out a throaty chuckle. “That wasn’t me.”

“What do you mean, it wasn’t you?” She asks, and rises to her feet. “I saw you with my own eyes. You were all over each other,” she accuses. She feels the anger building up inside her again like boiling water. She can’t believe there’s another guy standing right in front of her and blatantly lying to her face again. “Did you think because you saw me with some dumb meathead that I’d be too brainless to figure you out?”

Peeta’s face drops. “No! Listen you have the wrong idea. I was -”

“I have the wrong idea?!” She reiterates angrily, her eyes scorching back with fire. “Well then please enlighten me. What ingenious excuse were you going to come up with?” She adds sarcastically, and steps forward into his personal space. “Maybe you were going to tell me I’m crazy and I just imagined you and your girlfriend in the changeroom? Or maybe you were going to tell me that the guy back there is actually your identical twin brother?

Peeta stares at her wide eyed for a moment. “Ah, yeah actually. You’re right on the money with the twin thing,” he manages to get out apprehensively.

Her lips purse firmly in thought and she closes her eyes in irritation. “Look,” she starts, before she opens her eyes again. This time the anger has faded and been replaced by exhaustion. “I’m not in the mood to have another guy lie to me tonight, okay? So I’m giving you to the count of three to tell me the truth or I’ll have no regrets about kicking you in the balls.”

Peeta winces as he holds his hands up in surrender and takes a careful step back. “There’s really no need for that, I swear.” He pointedly looks down at Katniss’ feet, worry etched across his face that she’s about to strike any second like a cobra. “Kicking me in the nuts would be a really bad idea. Look I’m sorry you’ve had a rough night, but I was being serious earlier. I do have a brother and we are identical twins. I can prove it to you.”

The rush of worry and desperation in his voice pulls at her heart strings uninvited and causes her to pause and reconsider. His frantic eyes search her face begging to be believed. Sighing loudly she goes against her better judgement and steps back as he pulls out an iPhone from the pocket of his robe. “Here, I actually have a photo of the three of us together,” he says, offering the device to her. She looks at the screen and there in front of her is no denying the familiar giggling, blond dressed up in a floral dress with bouncing curls. She’s standing happily in between two familiar blond men who look completely identical down to their button up navy blue suits and matching smiles that could rot your teeth with their sweetness. All three of them are standing behind a colorful banner that reads. “Congratulations on your engagement Delly and Rye.”

“No trick photography or image altering I swear,” he jokes.

Omg! There’s two of them, she thinks and lets out an audible groan. Her cheeks bloom in shame and she feels mortified about how she just spoke to him, when all along he was being a nice and considerate guy coming in to check on her wellbeing. Surely she’s hit her limit now. Her name has to be worthy of being featured in the Guinness World record books under the award of ‘having the worst and most embarrassing night of your life.’ She lifts her head, looking contrite. “I’m so sorry. I should never have accused you of being a liar. That was awful of me. And I’m sorry I threatened to kick you in the balls,” she finishes awkwardly.

He laughs. “It’s alright, don’t be so hard on yourself. You weren’t to know. I understand why you would have made that assumption. Believe it or not it’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for my brother in less than ideal circumstances,” he jokes. “Kind of comes with the territory of being an identical twin.”

She gives him a small smile, grateful at his understanding and for his talent at putting people at ease.

“It sounds like you’ve had a rough night,” he adds sympathetically.

“I think that’s the understatement of the century,” she answers solemnly and hands him back his phone. She steps around him and out of the cubicle until she’s in front of a porcelain sink. She leans over to splash some cold water onto her face and through the mirror she notices Peeta straightening up his robe.

“How did you know I was in here?” She enquires, reaching for a fluffy hand towel.

“Rye and Delly,” he states like its explanation enough. “They saw you upset and running from a guy in the change rooms. They were worried and said the guy looked a bit…shady so they came and found me. Said you might need some help.”

“Are you a security guard?” She asks, although as soon as the question leaves her lips she thinks it’s unlikely due to the lack of clothes he’s wearing. Unless security is going nude for tonight too, she wonders.

“I’m one of the artists,” he explains not missing a beat. “But I’ve worked at the gallery for a long time. We take any harassment, especially on nights like this, very seriously. There’s no room for chances.”

She nods, worrying her lip between her teeth as he watches her closely. Unanswered questions burn bright from his eyes like lasers. After everything he’s done for her tonight, she knows he deserves an explanation. “My blind date brought me here,” she shares quietly. Peeta doesn’t say anything, but the light in his eyes soften, the action telling her it’s okay and to take her time.

“I thought we were just going to see some sculptures and paintings. I didn’t realise it was a nude exhibition and that…we had to be nude too.” Rehashing the memories of Cato and his true intentions make her feel like an idiot again and she lowers her head in shame.

“Wait a minute,” Peeta’s appalled voice cuts in and echoes against the tiled walls. He takes a few steps closer and his presence causes her to lift her head. She’s shocked to see his face contorted and anger swimming amongst the depths of his eyes like a violent storm is brewing. “Let me get this straight. You’ve never met this guy before and he brought you here to this exhibition on a first date?”

“Yes. He had tickets. Said it could be good foreplay.”

Peeta growls with animalistic fervour. “That’s just fucked up! Who the hell does something like that?! You know he’s lucky he’s not here because I would love to give him a piece of my mind before throwing him out on his ass!”

Her lips tug up into a smile before she can help herself. He looks livid. His fists are clenched and his jaw is tense, making him look all pumped up and ready to go into battle for her. It’s kind of cute and endearing, and her heart starts to warm and swell with something. No Katniss, don’t go there. Even though he’s nice and feeling protective towards you it doesn’t mean he would ever be ever interested in someone like you. He works here and is just being concerned. She clears her throat, turning her facial expression neutral, hoping it will disguise the fact that her heart is beating so quickly she’s afraid it will jump out of her chest and land at his feet in a pathetic heap. “Well it looks like I’ll have to thank your brother for going to get you – he sounds like a great guy.”

“Oh, please whatever you do, don’t say that to his face. I beg you. He’ll be milking this for weeks and I have to see him every day,” he tells her but his tone is friendly and humorous. The way his face relaxes when speaking about his brother tells her that they have a close and playful bond. “If I thought I could get away with telling people Rye is not my brother – trust me I would. I like to refer to him as the evil twin, whereas he prefers being called the devilishly handsome one.”

Katniss flings her head back and laughs in delight, before Peeta joins in too. It’s nice to let bursts of laughter spring forth and allow some of the tension to seep out of her body after the night she’s had. She can’t believe how comfortable she feels around him and they’ve only just met. She’s never felt like this with anyone before, not even Darius. She smiles, taking in the huskiness of his laughter and realises she likes it. It’s a deep and joyful sound that she thinks even the birds would stop to listen to. “So is there any way to tell you two apart?” She asks curiously.

“Well, let’s see…he’s right handed and I’m left handed,” he shares with a shrug. “So if you ever have trouble telling us apart just hand over a pen and demand us to write. It’s what Delly used to do when we were kids,” he chuckles and his eyes drift off briefly like he’s remembering something funny. “Oh, and I do have a small scar just near my hairline.” He smooths back his hair, showing off his forehead. She leans forward, and can’t help but take in another whiff of his scent like she’s breathing in some kind of heavenly life force. She eyes the small ragged blemish that you wouldn’t know was there unless you were looking for it. “I got this when I was 13 thanks to Rye. We were competing against one another at the regional wrestling competition. I came off second best,” he adds with a feign grimace.

Her mouth opens in fake indignation. “Siblings, right? They can be a real pain in the ass sometimes can’t they?”

“Tell me about – he still likes to gloat over it every now and again. But whenever I suggest a re-match he suddenly has to go home.”

She unexpectedly lets out a giggle. “Sounds like someone is threatened to lose their title,” she teases before her face drops to one of envy and sadness. “You’re lucky though that you have your brother close by. I haven’t seen my sister in almost a year.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“She’s living on the other side of the country studying medicine.”

“Oh wow, that’s great,” he remarks sounding impressed. “Although I’m sorry you don’t get to see her often. That would be tough. But you must be proud? She’s out there following her dreams, with the courage to leave the safety of her comfort zone…”

Comfort Zone. Two simple words that mean nothing to her when spoken separately but when they’re put together hit her straight in the gut like a freight train. And the way he’s looking at her now makes her feel a little uneasy, like he’s got x-ray vision and is using his superpower to look straight through her to view her very soul. Her skin suddenly feels hot under his intense stare like she’s standing underneath a giant spotlight. It causes her to pull away and break eye contact. “Yeah I guess so,” she answers softly, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken. “So, um…” She clears her throat, wanting to get back to what they were talking about earlier. “So it’s only those two things that can tell you apart?”

He stares at her for a few moments, clearly thinking. His eyes bore into hers longer than what’s necessary before he answers. “Well if we’re only talking about physical appearances there is something else that can tell us apart.” And without hesitation, he lifts up his robe. For a crazy, split second, she thinks he’s going to flash her which doesn’t make any sense, but then she notices the robe has just been lifted up to his left knee. The action causes her eyes to be drawn down to his lower limb. But she’s not looking at flesh and bone. Instead, she realises he’s wearing a prosthetic leg.

Peeta stands still and composed, watching her closely and waiting for some kind of reaction.

Katniss is shocked for a few moments as she gets her bearings. She certainly wasn’t expecting to see that when he lifted up his robe. Her eyes travel carefully up and down the artificial limb inspecting it in wonder. She can’t believe how real it looks. “What happened?” She asks, looking up into his eyes. She’s surprised by her concerned tone considering they’ve only just met, but she can’t hide the fact that she feels somewhat protective towards him. Her heart clenches thinking about all the terrible things that could have happened to him.

He shrugs his shoulders with a wry smile. “I wish I had more of a dramatic story to tell you. But I was 16, away at a school camp and my friends and I wanted to go visit Arena Mountain. And of course the teachers wouldn’t let us, so we snuck off and I ended up slipping down a hill and cutting my leg on some rusted fencing.”

She winces. “Oh my god. What did you do?”

“Obviously not the smart thing,” he tells her dryly. “We didn’t want to get in trouble so we kept our little adventure and my injury to ourselves. I thought cleaning it up with water and soap would be fine.” He runs his free hand through his hair with a loud sigh. “But before I knew it, I got really sick and found out I had blood poisoning. The doctors were able to save my life but not my leg.” He gives her a tight, accepting smile. The mood in the bathroom has now dropped a couple of degrees.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she tells him, reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of comforting. “After all that did you at least get to Arena Mountain?”

He looks down at her with a double take before his face splits into a wide grin and bursts of hysterical laughter escape his lungs. The effect causes his shoulders to shake and his eyes to water. “You know no one has ever asked me that before. Usually when I retell this story everybody just wants to focus on the negatives. So thank you,” he says between gasps. “I mean, that was the reason we snuck out, but no one has ever cared to ask if we made it to our destination or not. But to answer your question, we got there, banged up leg and all and it was amazing.”

“That’s good to hear,” she smiles, her eyes bright. She was hoping the question would have that kind of effect on him. Knowing from past experiences, she knows he doesn’t need or want her pity. Sometimes deflecting off a painful memory that’s right in front of you can be the best medicine.

He finally gets his laughter under control, wiping away the stray water from his eyes. He gazes down at her, and she’s surprised at the way his eyes are dancing across her face, almost in what could only be described as pure wonderment. He’s looking at her like he’s in the presence of an amazing piece of art that he can’t take his eyes off. The thought makes her feel self-conscious and giddy.

The moment however fades when he coughs and his features turn serious. “I’m not going to lie to you. I’m alright with it now - it’s been 15 years,” he shares thoughtfully. “But for a while there I was quite depressed. It took me awhile to get use to it.”

Katniss nods.

“I learnt a lot about myself during that time though. Did a lot of thinking.”

“What did you think about?” She asks with interest. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so taken with someone before. Every word coming out of his mouth is like a magnet to her ears.

“Well obviously I know now that I need to head straight to the hospital whenever I have a medical emergency,” he smiles with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But I also realised I didn’t want the accident to change me. I still wanted to be that person who enjoys life and loves to get out there and explore new things. To not let the fear take over. I refused to have that part of myself cut off too.”

“You wanted to be you,” she states.

“Yeah,” he smiles, his relief that she understands obvious.

She’s in awe right now. She can’t deny she’s completely taken with him. She’s never felt this way before and didn’t think in a million years that she’d ever truly find someone she had this type of connection with. He makes her want to try for more.

Here in front of her is a man whose life was dramatically transformed but he refused to be changed by it and let it define him. He fought back, willing to get out there and experience real, authentic snapshots of what life has to offer. The notion makes Katniss feel shameful about her own life. She’s never had to experience physical adversity in her life like he has, yet she still doesn’t have the guts to live beyond her comfort zone.

“So is that why you do nude art?” She asks.

He laughs. “Well I do all kinds of art,” he assures her. “My love affair with it started after my accident. It was part of my therapy and I was fortunate enough to turn it into a career. But this exhibition and the miracle of the human body has a special place in my heart. I don’t think there’s any other times in our lives when we are truly bare and vulnerable. And to me that’s beautiful. That’s what makes us human.” Smiling boldly, he adds, “Although I could include sex into that equation too. But I think showcasing that would be taking it a step too far, don’t you think?”

His words cause her to blush, and she lowers her head. But she’s still attuned in fascination to what he’s saying. The meaning of his words are reaching out to her with gentle hands and guiding her to open up and listen. To not be afraid to express yourself and to have the courage to indulge yourself into a new world of possibilities.

“If you take away all the fancy clothes, jewellery and iPhones we’re the same,” he continues. “This is me and I’m a human being capable of anything. My body is a blank canvas.”

“I like the sound of all that. Really. You make it sound so simple…and beautiful. But I just…I don’t know how you can go out there and be…naked in front of all those people. Don’t you get scared?” She asks, lifting her head.

“I get nervous of course - which is normal,” he explains calmly. “But when I’m out there I feel like I’m in a different world. A peaceful world where it’s just me. Everybody and everything just seems to wash away unnoticed into the background. I wouldn’t be able to tell you who I see out there.” He pauses and thinks carefully for a moment. “There is something liberating and freeing about the experience. It’s like being on a natural high. And I don’t care if people see me,” he winks cheekily. Her mouth can’t help but curl up and smile in reply. “But seriously,” he adds, his voice turning earnest. “The event we’re offering tonight is in a safe and controlled environment for everyone. And when you think about it you’re not alone. Everybody is out there bare, naked and vulnerable. All in the same boat without letting fear, prejudice or judgement be a part of them or the experience.”

She nods, thinking that makes sense and she’s glad he’s brought that to her attention. Besides Cato, she’d noticed that everyone else in the change room earlier seemed to have genuine intentions and interest towards the exhibition. She certainly didn’t see any bad behavior coming from any of them and that takes a load off her shoulders. “So your brother and future sister in law like participating in these things too?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he bobs his head firmly. “My family is close. You know my parents are out there too.”

Her brows narrow briefly in horror as she lets his admission sink in. She wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything like this with her mother or sister. Not if you paid her a million dollars. She’s doesn’t know how to reply to that as she doesn’t want to offend him or his family and come off as a bumbling prude. But when she looks closer she notices his teeth are digging hard enough into his lower lip that it will surely leave marks, and his shoulders are shaking like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “You’re joking,” she states in relief.

“Yes, I’m joking.” He sniggers. “But you should have seen your face.”

“That wasn’t funny,” she reprimands and tries to playfully hit him on the arm which he light-heartedly dodges.

“Don’t worry my parents are not into this type of thing, or my grandparents,” he adds as a cheeky afterthought. “My brother on the other hand - well he thinks if his younger brother by 6 minutes can do it, then so can he.”

“Evil twin strikes again huh?”

“The guy has no shame or an off button. Though I’m sure Delly had to down a few shots before coming here.”

“They sound like a unique pair,” Katniss grins.

“Yeah, they are,” he answers fondly. “They’re lucky they found each other. I just hope one day I have even half their luck. I would love to be in a relationship with a beautiful and intelligent woman who has no idea what kind of effect she has on me. And of course after Rye insists on having the final say on my love life, we would get married, maybe have a couple of kids and just live our lives the best way we can.” He stops abruptly, his eyes widening and his face turning crimson. It’s clear as he rubs the back of his neck nervously that he’s embarrassed he revealed too much of himself.

A deafening silence falls over them but all Katniss can hear is her heart beat picking up the pace like a galloping race horse.

“I hope I have the same luck too,” she whispers, not sure where that bold and courageous statement came from. But she knows deep down she means every word - now that she’s had a taste of this amazing man.

The air around them intensifies with crackles of electricity. It’s like they’re joined by a live wire and Katniss feels her skin buzzing. She knows he feels it too, because his embarrassment is gone and he gives her a shy, knowing smile before he clears his throat to speak.

“Um, so yeah back to what I was saying earlier. This exhibition isn’t for everybody. And I don’t want you to feel forced into something you don’t feel comfortable with. I just hope after what you experienced tonight that it won’t keep you away from the gallery. It would be nice if you came back…to visit,” he adds quietly, and looks at her with a glimmer of hope. For someone who has the confidence to model nude in front of complete strangers his self –assurance has suddenly turned shaky and non-existent. But just the thought of what he’s implying - that there’s a chance they can meet up again - makes her heart burst open with hope.

“I’d like that,” she smiles.

He lets out a deep breath, like he was holding it in. “Great. So yeah you can come back anytime you want. I’m here most days. I could give you a private tour if you like – paintings and sculptures only of course,” he smiles eagerly.

Katniss is about to suggest she could come by tomorrow when she’s rudely interrupted by a loud thump on the bathroom door. “Yo! Bread boy! Are you in there? Whatever the hell you’re doing you need to hurry up and get your sexy, naked ass out here before Haymitch blows his load.”

Katniss looks over at Peeta horrified at the woman’s sudden and brazen intrusion.

He reaches out and gently takes a hold of her arm; she feels steady in his warmth and his thumb rubs along her soft bare skin in reassurance. “Ignore her, she likes to be dramatic,” he whispers, before he turns his head in the direction of the door. “Jo, you said you would cover for me.”

“And I did, but I’m not a miracle worker…or a bottle of white liquor. He saw right through me – you know what he’s like. After tonight’s incident with the brainless douchebag he’s as tense as ever. I offered to help him with his load but I don’t think he appreciated the innuendo.”

Peeta shakes his head with a groan.

“I’m coming in – there’s no point in hiding, I know what you’re packing.” She pushes open the door so violently that it bangs loudly against the wall before bouncing back. A woman with dark, spiky hair and mischievous hazel eyes steps across the threshold fully naked, and parades towards them like she’s modelling on a catwalk. With wide eyes, Katniss takes in every inch of her confident form, starting from her toned legs and working her way up until she views her impressive 6 pack stomach and perky breasts. Mortification fills her as she realises she’s been staring. In a flash she turns away, pretending the porcelain sinks are a lot more interesting.

A shrill cackling sound comes from the woman’s mouth and brings her attention back. “I see we’ve got a live one here,” she says icily, judging Katniss’ full attire with distaste.

“Don’t Jo,” Peeta responds sharply.

She shakes her head in disgust. “Have you finished rescuing the damsel in distress yet or what? You know after the Finnick incident Haymitch is watching everybody like a hawk.”

Peeta smirks. “I’ll be right there.”

But not a moment too soon a rough, slurred voice calls out. “Boy! Where the hell are you?” Heavy and unbalanced footsteps follow the question as the man who Katniss assumes is Haymitch pops his head inside the bathroom door. He’s an older man in his forties with dark hair and olive skin and thank god he’s fully clothed. “Mellark, your space is filling up with people wanting to see you. I’m not paying you to sit around in a robe all night and play prince charming.”

Peeta, who is still looking at Katniss, just rolls his eyes in amusement. He’s clearly not affected by either of them. That gesture and his demeanour allows her to breathe and relax her nerves.

“I wouldn’t be worrying what I’m up to,” Peeta pipes up. “If I was you I would be keeping a closer eye on Finnick. I overheard him earlier trying to convince Gloss to help him start a human pyramid tonight with the patrons.”

“Oh bloody hell, not again,” Haymitch curses. “Damn kid.” He turns to leave in a maddening fluster before he unexpectedly turns back around and looks over to Katniss. His features soften. “You sure you’re alright there, sweetheart?”

Katniss is taken back by his complete 180. But she feels touched by his momentary concern for her and nods her head.

He mirrors her action. “Good. Don’t worry about the asshole from earlier. Security roughed him up pretty good so if you decide to participate tonight he won’t be in there.”

“Thank you,” she stammers out. Her mouth suddenly feels like it’s home to a ball of cotton wool.

“Let’s go Jo, you’ve got people waiting too.”

Jo gives Katniss one final glare, following it up with a devilish smile before she strolls out of the room after Haymitch, swinging her hips seductively.

Once they’ve both gone, Katniss turns to Peeta with a relieved smile and exhales a long, shuddering breath. She’s not sure what to make of both of them.

“That went surprising well,” Peeta states cheerfully. “They usually don’t converse easily with people they’ve just met.”

“I thought that Jo woman was going to kill me,” Katniss comments wryly. She looks down and is not surprised that Peeta still has a tender hold of her arm.

“You don’t need to worry about Jo. She’s like that with everyone, especially when you first meet her,” he explains. “It’s no excuse, but her life hasn’t been an easy one.”

Katniss nods, although she’s not sure what to say to that and she doesn’t think it’s her place to comment on it.

The electricity that was running between them earlier has dimmed due to the interruption, but Katniss can still feel the exciting hum running through her veins. And for now it will have to do. “Well I guess I better let you get out there and do your…thing,” she says almost shyly. She can’t believe after all the naked bodies she’s seen drifting in and out of this place so far tonight that she’s still feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Peeta agrees but his face clearly says he’s not ready to leave. Hesitantly, he lets go of her arm and Katniss relishes in the fact her arm now feels warm and tingly like his aura is still with her. “I really hope to see you again soon,” he says softly.

“You will,” Katniss assures him. Even if she had a busy schedule for the next 5 years she would already be clearing it and planning on coming back tomorrow. Wild horses couldn’t keep her away now. But she doesn’t want to voice her plans out loud to him, afraid she’ll come off lonely and desperate.

“When you go out to the foyer, go and see Annie at the ticket counter,” he instructs. “Tell her I sent you and she’ll call you a cab.”

“Oh no you don’t have to do that –”

“Please I insist. After everything that’s happened tonight I’ll feel much better knowing you got home safely.”

She’s touched by his sweet gesture and she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t turned on by his chivalrous manner.

“Bye, Katniss,” he mutters. Reaching the door he turns back around, his smile bright but his eyes shaded with a hint of hesitancy, like he’s worried he won’t ever see her again. She wants to reiterate and reassure him that he will, but he turns around and leaves before she can get her mouth and brain to cooperate.

After the door closes unceremoniously behind him, the whole place is filled with a deafening silence. The only sound she can hear is the click clack from her high heels as she steps out into the change room and takes in the empty space. She’s alone and every locker is closed tight. All except one, she realises. The locker that Cato had a key to. The compartment door is wide open like someone left it in a hurry…or they were pulled away from it abruptly. She can’t help but wander over to it, contemplating. In a way it feels like a lifetime ago she was standing right in this spot next to Cato. She thinks so much has happened since then and she feels different. It’s a good kind of different though, one she thinks she’ll have a hard time putting into words, but she knows she has Peeta to thank for her potential new outlook.

Tonight definitely hadn’t gone the way she imagined or planned for herself, that’s for sure. It was a disaster in a lot of ways, but if she hadn’t come here with Cato she wouldn’t have met Peeta. And no matter how angry she wants to be about the events that led her here tonight, that part is like sunshine breaking through the dark clouds and brightening up her life.

A delicious shiver runs down her spine just at the thought of Peeta and what he could be doing right now. She can’t deny she’s curious about what’s going on behind those closed doors. Her mouth starts to salivate and her pulse thumbs against her neck when she imagines what his body could look like. Is it identical to his twin’s? All broad shoulders and muscular chest? Does he have the distinct pelvic muscles that curve sharply into the letter V too?

Not to mention the thought of him is bringing up their conversation from earlier. “And when you think about it you’re not alone. Everybody is out there bare, naked and vulnerable. All in the same boat without letting fear, prejudice or judgement be a part of them or the experience.”

She really doesn’t want to go home, she suddenly realises. Not when the only thing waiting for her there is stone cold humiliation thanks to her unsuccessful date. She also doesn’t want to face the high probability that Prim couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning to talk to her and has already left an enthusiastic message pushing her for every single detail. Plus having to deal with the smugness from that asshole cat who will be looking down his nose at her and thinking, I knew you couldn’t do it. How’s that mouse’s wheel treating you?

She shifts her attention to the door. The one that has a sign above it stating, Exhibition Entrance. In Katniss’ opinion it may as well have a large, flashing neon sign.

Could she really do this? Step out of her comfort zone and be naked in front of all those people?

But the most important question of all is - does she really want to do this?

……..

Yes she does.

She doesn’t think anymore, instead she just concentrates on the familiar and debilitating sensation of uncertainty leaving her body, like a heavy weight is lifting. Now all she hears is Peeta’s soothing words in her ears encouraging her over and over again like a broken record. Quickly, she takes off her shoes, unzips her dress and slips her underwear down and piles them into the locker.

It’s a weird sensation, she thinks as what she’s doing begins to dawn on her. She’s now standing in a public place, stark naked where anybody could just walk in and see her. Her hands wring nervously in front of her and she feels her heart beating so hard against her rib cage it’s almost painful. I can do this. Remember you won’t be alone. Don’t be afraid. Time to step out of your comfort zone. You had a failed date tonight with the douchebag from hell, but you will experience something amazing tonight, Katniss Everdeen.

Her hands shake slightly on the door knob until she conjures up another image of Peeta. His smile, his bravery and his wise words comfort her and push the nerves down again. As she stands there waiting to take her first steps into a brave new world, she suddenly feels like the most powerful woman on the planet. The unknown is exhilarating, like she’s free falling without a parachute.

She opens the door with no hesitation and takes a determined step inside.

The first thing she notices in the large, marble room is that it’s very quiet, to the point you could almost hear a pin drop. A few people standing nearby give her a brief glance before smiling kindly and turning back around to murmur about a model’s pose. But there’s no one leering towards her, making snide comments or yelling out obscenities about her body. It all seems muted and respectful.

She works her way around the room slowly, becoming more aware by the second of how her body is moving; the insides of her bare thighs are brushing together and she can see her breasts are jiggling with every step she takes. She never really took the time to look at herself like this before.

Gazing around she notes there are ten artists who are spread out across the entire floor. There’s no velvet ropes to separate or distinguish, but you can tell who they are as each of them are either standing or sitting down in different and elaborate poses that look so raw and beautiful it makes her stop mid step. She didn’t think a show like this could affect her so much, but there’s awe in her eyes and appreciation etched deep within her bones.

She then feels a magnetic pull from somewhere deep inside, like she’s attached to something. The sensation leads her to the far corner of the room and she’s not surprised by who she finds. Peeta. She’s unable to see his full profile at first, only recognising the top of his head over the crowd that’s gathered to observe him. After a few minutes several people step aside and she’s able to move in for a closer look.

She forgets how to breathe for a moment when her eyes fall upon his entire naked body. It is as she suspected - a masterpiece. An artwork that seems to have been carefully crafted and layered with love by the gods themselves. She always thought the human body was a weird construction with all its different parts and functions but watching Peeta now performing with all the grace and beauty of a ballet dancer and admiring how every muscle in his body can twist and turn into simple and complex shapes she now believes the body is truly a magnificent thing to behold.

None of the artists are interacting with the patrons, each of them seem to be in their own little worlds performing and sharing their own beauty and abilities. Either way, Katniss still wants to be as close to him as humanly possible. She sneaks into a spot at the front and off to the side. Continuing to be mesmerised by the view of him, she watches as he changes the shape of his body as he curls his back and then brings it forward again before lifting his leg up high so it’s flexed and balancing straight in front of him. But it’s when he dips his head to the side that he catches a glimpse of her standing there in all her naked glory; his neutral expression drops and he loses his steadiness for a few seconds. She can’t help but feel excited at the clear effect she has on him. Very carefully, so the other patrons can’t see, he gives her a pleased grin before he twists his body into another position and sets his features back into his model persona. Everything is back to normal except his eyes. They’re staring straight ahead bright and alert, and dancing in delight that she’s here standing before him participating. She feels his heated gaze staring at her out of the corner of his eye and she knows he’s taking in her naked form. She feels a little self-conscious but considering she’s standing here with her brain brimming close to the edge with naked images of him that could fill an entire scrap book she thinks it’s only fair.

This has got to be the strangest day of my life, Katniss thinks to herself weirdly. What a bizarre way to meet someone. He gives her a wink, like he can read her thoughts and their moment is over. He turns his body away so his back is to her and settles into a different pose.

“Please tell me how on earth you made him break?” A rogue voice whispers, his disbelieving breath ghosting against the shell of her ear. She’s momentarily stunned for a moment that she was caught off guard by someone who’s standing in her personal space. Usually she has the hearing of a wild dog out on a hunt for a good feed, but not this time around it seems.

She turns around to face the man with a scowl, wanting to find out what his deal is, when she’s left feeling gobsmacked. Again.

Standing beside her is a very familiar looking man who’s identical to the one standing on display. Rye. Her shocked grey eyes travel across his well acquainted face before they drift down without warning to explore even more of him. Yep. Identical in every way. He coughs and the noise breaks her out of her dazed spell, bringing her back to her senses and forcing her to seek eye contact with a guilt ridden expression. His eyes are dancing around in playful delight and he gives her a knowing smirk. “You’d think staring at my brother for most of the night would have been more than enough…but maybe you haven’t had your fill…”

“Rye, leave the poor girl alone,” a female voice cuts in and sighs loudly. “And leave your brother alone too, he’s trying to do his job. He doesn’t need you distracting him.”

“I think this young woman right here is doing a good enough job for the both of us,” Rye smirks playfully.

The woman then comes into Katniss line of sight and she tries not to stare too hard or lower her gaze. It’s the blond woman from the change rooms.

“I’m sorry, we’re being so rude aren’t we? I’m sure you have no idea who we are.” Redness blushes the other woman’s cheeks and she holds out her hand in greeting. “I’m Delly and this is my fiancée Rye – who’s obviously Peeta’s twin.”

“I’m the devilishly handsome one,” Rye cuts in and it makes Katniss laugh automatically, remembering what Peeta had said about his brother.

She takes a step forward and shakes Delly’s hand and then his. “I’m Katniss.” What a weird circumstance to meet.

Delly smiles. “Don’t pay any attention to this one. He’s just jealous,” she tells her and wraps an arm around Rye’s waist. He dips his head and looks down at her with a loving and charming smile. “He’s been trying to make Peeta laugh or fall over for the last 10 minutes with no success.”

“The guy has no sense of humour when it comes to this. He’s acting like one of the Queen’s guards.”

“He’s acting like this because he knows what you’re up to. He knew you would try and pull something like this, your brother isn’t stupid,” Delly explains and gives him a teasing pinch on his hip. She moves her attention over to Katniss and gives her a mischievous grin. “Maybe Katniss can pull it off because she has something that you don’t.”

Rye scoffs. “Yeah and I’m sure I know what it is,” he replies dryly.

Delly shakes her head at him with exasperation. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“Oh come on you love it,” Rye replies huskily, with hooded eyes. He leans down to give her a kiss on the lips, their tongues meeting slowly and languidly. Even though the three of them are standing together fully naked Katniss still feels like she’s standing in the middle of a private and intimate moment, and looks away.

“So were you okay after that guy of yours left?” Rye asks carefully. His voice brings her attention back and she sees them both looking at her with joint concern. “From what I overheard, the guy sounded like a real piece of work.”

“Oh, yes,” she stumbles, trying to get her brain working again. “Thank you for going to get Peeta. I really appreciate it. The night definitely didn’t turn out the way I was expecting.”

“You poor thing,” Delly says. “There are so many bad ones out there, isn’t there? But it just makes you appreciate it more when you find a good one. Peeta is a good one,” she adds pretending to sound off handed, but her blue eyes are twinkling

“He’s great. I’ve never met anyone like him before,” Katniss tells her with a smile and she feels Rye looking down on her with curious eyes. He looks exactly like Peeta, but they say the eyes are the windows to the soul and Katniss can see some differences. Rye seems like a bit of a larrikin, a carefree joker, where Peeta seems to have more of a sensitive and serious side.

“I don’t think you need to play matchmaker here Dell,” Rye then pipes up. “I think the hook has already landed the big fish.” Without further ado, he gives Katniss a wink and says, “We’ll leave you alone so you can perve on my brother in private. You have my blessing.”

She nods nervously, surprised that her intentions for Peeta seem to show as clear as day to his brother. She says her goodbyes and then looks over to Peeta who still has his back to her but he now has his knee up high and bent, while his back curls forward and his head is tucked into his chest.

She decides to come back later so she doesn’t distract him again or get him in trouble. She strolls around the exhibition and views all the other artists on display. She watches Jo for a while, but only because her back is to the audience. She then finds herself standing in front of a man with bronze hair and green eyes the colour of water you would find on a tropical island. She has a funny suspicion that his name is Finnick as she swears she hears him whisper to the small group that has gathered, “Have you ever wanted to be a part of a human pyramid?” She walks off with a shake of her head and wonders off-handed where Haymitch could be.

But throughout the night she can’t get away from or deny the heated and comforting gaze she feels following her around. Her skin feels alight with flames as she senses him watching and looking out for her. The butterflies in her belly are back and this time they’re flapping around in excitement counting down the minutes until she can talk to him again.

Half an hour later and it’s like everything in the universe aligns and answers her prayers because when she’s back in the change rooms, zipping up her dress, she feels a warm presence behind her and the distinctive smells of cinnamon and dill that she’d smelled earlier.

Unable to hide the excitement and confidence the evening has brought to her, she turns around and gives Peeta the biggest grin; she’s relieved to find him beaming back.

“You were incredible,” he states in awe. “I couldn’t believe that you’d really gone out there. I thought for a moment I was seeing things,” he laughs. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

“I’m feeling pretty damn good,” she answers back with a proud smirk. “You were amazing too, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he nods, the tops of his ears turning pink. He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “Um, so I was thinking, if you’re not in a hurry to get home that is, maybe we could go out for coffee, talk about the show…or anything really.”

“I would love to, but I don’t drink coffee,” she states firmly.

“Oh…um, okay…” he pauses, looking crestfallen.

“I could go for a hot chocolate though,” she offers alternatively and gives him a wink. She doesn’t know where this new and sudden boldness of hers is coming from but she thinks she likes it. “I know a great bakery around the corner that’s open late.”

His shoulders sag in relief, and his eyes twinkle. “I believe I’m familiar with the place you’re thinking of,” he says, offering his hand.

Without further thought, she gently places her hand in his, admiring the warmth radiating from his palm and the rough texture of his fingers wrapped securely around hers. They fall into step, walking alongside each other in comforting silence as they move across the spacious floors of the gallery. Outside she sees the bright neon sign of the Mellark Bakery flashing and suddenly realizes she’ll have an amazing story to share with Prim and her stupid cat tomorrow. Not only did she find the courage to walk around naked in front of complete strangers, but she also managed to meet a nice guy and go on a date. But the most satisfying thing out of this is that she was able to accomplish all this by herself, with no safety net or comfort zone. Tonight had brought her confidence, and a sense of fun that had been missing from her life.

As they step inside the warmth of the bustling bakery, something tells her there’s a good chance she could become addicted to the free fall of a comfort zone free life, and fully exploring the possibilities of what life has to offer. Because even after only one night of taking that leap of not knowing where she was going to land, she’s already found Peeta. And she can only imagine what she can possibly accomplish with him by her side.

#Everlark Fic Exchange #Springtime Edition 2017 #submission #peetaspikelets #xerxia 31 #prompt 53

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luslogh-blog · 6 years ago

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MEMORIAL FOR THE CITY

By W.H. Auden (In Memoriam Charles Williams, d. April 1945) ~In the self-same point that our soul is made sensual, in the self-same point is the City of God ordained to him from without beginning.~ Juliana of Norwhich

I The eyes of the crow and the eye of the camera open Onto Homers world, not ours. First and last They magnify earth, the abiding Mother of gods and men; if they notice either It is only in passing: gods behave, men die, Both feel in their own small way, but She Does nothing and does not care. She alone is seriously there.

The crow on the crematorium chimney And the camera roving the battle Record a space where time has no place. On the right a village is burning, in a marker-town to the left The soldiers fire, the mayor bursts into tears, The captives are led away, while far in the distance A tanker sinks into a dedolent sea. That is the way things happen; for ever and ever Plum-blossom falls on the dead, the roar of the waterfall covers The cries of the whipped and the sighs of the lovers And the hard bright light composes A meaningless moment into an eternal fact Which a whistling messenger disappears with into a defile: One enjoys glory, one endures shame; He may, she must. There is no one to blame.

The steady eyes of the crow and the camera's candid eye See as honestly as they know how, but they lie. The crime of life is not time. Even now, in this night Among the ruins of the Post-Vergilian City Where our past is a chaos of graves and the barbed-wire stretches ahead Into our future till it is lost to sight, Our grief if not Greek: As we bury our dead We know without knowing there is reason for what we bear, That our hurt is not a desertion, that we are to pity Neither ourselves nor our city; Whoever the searchlights catch, whatever the loudspeakers blare, We are not to despair.

II Alone in a room Pope Gregory whispered his name While the Emperor shone on a centreless world From wherever he happened to be; the New City rose Upon their opposition, the yes and no Of a rival allegiance; the sword, the local lord Were not all; there was home and Rome; Fear of the stranger was lost on the way to the shrine.

The facts, the acts of the City bore a double meaning: Limbs became hymns; embraces expressed in just A more permanent tie; infidel faces replaced The family foe in the choleric's nightmare; The children of water parodied in their postures The infinite patience of heaven; Those born under Saturn felt the gloom of the day of doom.

Scribes and innkeepers prospered; suspicious tribes combined To rescue Jerusalem from a dull god, And disciplined logicians fought to recover thought From the eccentricities of the private brain For the Sane City; farmed in her windows, orchards, ports, Wild beasts, deep rivers and dry rocks Lay nursed on the smile of a merciful Madonna.

In a sandy province Luther denounced as obscene The machine that so smoothly forgave and saved If paid; he announced to the Sinful City a grinning gap No rite could cross; he abased her before the Grace: Henceforth division was also to be her condition; Her conclusions were to include doubt, Her loves were to bear with her fear; insecure, she endured.

Saints tamed, poets acclaimed the raging herod of the will; The groundlings wept as on a secular stage The grand and the bad went to ruin in thundering verse; Sundered by reason and treason the City Found invisible ground for concord in measured sound, While wood and stone learned the shameless Games of man, to flatter, to show off, be pompous, to romp.

Nature was put to the Question in the Prince's name; She confessed, what he wished to hear, that she had no soul; Between his scaffold and her coldness the restrained style, The ironic smile became the worldly and devout, Civility a city grown rich: in his own snob way The unarmed gentleman did his job As a judge to her children, as a father to her forests.

In a national capital Mirabeau and his set Attacked mystery; the packed galleries roared And history marched to the drums of a clear idea, The aim of the Rational City, quick to admire, Quick to tire: she used up Napoleon and threw him away; Her pallid affected heroes Began their hectic quest for the prelapsarian man.

The deserts were dangerous, the waters rough, their clothes Absurd but, changing their Beatrices often, Sleeping little, they pushed on, raised the flag of the Word Upon lawless spots denied or forgotten By the fear or the pride of the Glittering City; Guided by hated parental shades, They invaded and harrowed the hell of her natural self.

Chimeras mauled them, they wasted away with the spleen, Suicide picked them off; sunk off Cape Consumption, Lost on the Tosspot Seas, wrecked on the Gibbering Isles Or trapped in the ice of despair at the Soul's Pole, They died, unfinished, alone; but now the forbidden, The hidden, the wild outside were known: Faithful without faith, they died for the Conscious City.

III

Across the square, Between the burnt-out Law Courts and Police Headquarters, Past the Cathedral far too damanged to repair, Around the Grand Hotel patched up to hold reporters, Near huts of some Emergency Committee, The barded wire runs through the abolished City.

Across the plains, Between two hills, two villages, two trees, two friends, The barbed wire runs which neither argues nor explains But, where it likes, a place, a path, a railroad ends, The humor, the cuisine, the rites, the taste, The patterns of the City, are erased.

Across our sleep The barbed wire also runs: It trips us so we fall And white ships sail without us though the others weep, It makes our sorry fig-leaf as the Sneerers' Ball, It ties the smiler to the double bed, It keeps on growing from the witch's head.

Behind the wire Which is behind the mirror, our Image is the same Awake or dreaming: It has no image to admire, No age, no sex, no memory, no creed, no name, It can be counted, multiplied, employed In any place, at any time destroyed.

Is it our friend? No; that is our hope; that we weep and It does not grieve, That for It the wire and the ruins are not the end: This is the flesh we are but never would believe, The flesh we die but it is death to pity; This is Adam waiting for His City.

Let Our Weakness speak

Without me Adam would have fallen irrevocably with Lucifer; he would never have been able to cry ~O Felix culpa~ It was I who suggested his theft to Prometheus; my frailty cost Adonis his life. I heard Orpheus sing; I was not quite as moved as they say. I was not taken in by the sheep's-eyes of Narcissus; I was angry with Psyche when she struck a light. I was in Hector's confidence; so far as it went. Had he listened to me Oedipus would never have left Corinth; I cast no vote at the trial of Orestes. I fell asleep when Diotima spoke of love; I was not responsible for the monsters which tempted St Anthony. To me the Savior permitted His Fifth Word from the cross; to be a stumbling-block to the stoics. I was the unwelcome third at the meetings of Tristan with Isolda; they tried to poison me. I rose with Galahad on his Quest for the San Graal; without understanding I kept his vow. I was the just impediment to the marriage of Faustus with Helen; I know a ghost when I see one. With Hamlet I had no patience; but I forgave Don Quixote all for his admission in the cart. I was the missing entry in Don Giovanni's list; for which he could never account. I assisted Figaro the Barber in all his intrigues; when Prince Tamino arrived at wisdom I too obtained my reward. I was innocent of the sin of the Ancient Mariner; time after time I warned Captain Ahab to accept happiness. As for Metropolis, that too-great city; her delusions are not mine. Her speeches impress me little, her statistics less; to all who dwell on the public side of her mirrors, resentments and no peace. At the place of my passion her photographers are gathered together; but I shall rise again to hear her judged.

#w.h. auden #charles williams #poetry

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ulyssesredux · 6 years ago

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Penelope

I should wish Lydgate to know for when I lit that evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the bit of a poor old woman for him Ill knock him off that little habit tomorrow first Ill look at baby, things were right enough in his arms. Bulstrode said no more about men and life when I looked back and I am sure you did everything, and willow-pattern. There was no time in taking yours.

I hate that pretending of all kinds of things fuck or shit or the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of her round in time she turned on the stage imagine paying 5/-Ill tell him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so well as Fred;—and Rosamond was particularly forcible by means of that broken tie, she locked up again the desks and drawers—all empty of personal words for her underclothing. But he stands very high connections: he is besides something always happens with him taking Eppss cocoa and talking of course so theyre all mad to get my husband again into their clutches if I asked him about her? Yes; he must write to me yes first I gave him that knew us I wonder theyre not going to burst though his nose trying to get rough the old tenants stay on. Do you think Mr. Lydgate. I was a packet which he accounted for his money over selling the clothes and strumming in the end of the word. Celia.

But who has a softy in him when he could leave it off asking me and Boylan set him off well he can swim of course hed never believe the next room hed have heard me on to forty he is now so as he had omitted to send us some flowers to put up with his glasses up with marsala fatten them out for me it was found out on her side much occupied with what with a shock of repulsion from her, if you could show me out in the mean while the grizzled Newfoundland lying in the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs. I was going to south Africa where those Boers killed him with all the people and give him much consolation that he had something to think about every moment and see if they saw a dinner-service in question was expensive, but in the Irish times lost in the budget if I knew there was something else and she had asked any dangerous questions. But Mr. Cadwallader kept the highest rock in existence the galleries and casemates and those frightful rocks and Saint Michaels cave with the glove get on your nerves then doing the loglady all day long curly head and looked at her twice I hope shell get someone to dance attendance on Dorothea while her brain was excited, had told Celia everything, and putting her hands outward. Garth had not entreated silence, and subtle as it is easy I think of these was of a horse or an engagement which must be real love if a belief flattered her vanity she felt to her, said Sir James.

He got rid of one life towards another, visions of completeness, indefinite trust. It was rather deep, in a dim and clogging medium: distrust of any kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps some protestant clergyman with a little ashamed of me I hope so, Fred, and then at Fred's piqued tone, as if he doesnt mind himself and his shoulders his finger up for you. But he stands very high connections: he forgot that he had once given with an ill-satisfied conscience. The volume was Ivanhoe, and clasping his hands at the Hospital: a man or other. Also, it is right; and I pointing at them and grinning all over the knuckle there or one of them falling over one another and then of his doctrine is a good deal of good.

Bulstrode was again stirred to anxiety; but then what am I ever knew.

As if you please common robbery so it is they who wear them I suppose there isnt much to steal indeed the Lord knows after the lovely one she had been asked to go, if there had not been duties attached to it extremely, not me when I looked a bit now and go abroad. As to Lydgate that papa is not fair that I dont know Poldy has more right to interfere than I expected. This constancy of purpose in the world, who is it Friday yes I believe I did had an application for interest already—I had youre always in great style at the choir party at the windows then down and ladders all the ends of the study, and then at the band on the windowsill before all the scribbling he does always wipes his feet on the carpet have him eying up at I S than theyll all know the recipe I had the big wheels of the foolish women speaketh—telling first and I none was he doing there where hed get bloodpoisoning but if someone gave them a bit on my waiting months for the least they might get a husband whose thoughts had been so dull and troublesome while he began it not to see a tiny drop on one of those a nice word for any woman and a darling little fellow in khaki and just the ordinary do it in the drawing-room, was made active by the Chettams and Casaubons. In my opinion Mrs. You made a codicil to his will—there again all over his old pastoral kindness towards her husband. Mr. Bulstrode be to have fuller knowledge about him, even with men, said Dorothea, breaking in impetuously.

Rosamond had good reasons for concealing. But Garth would not be an obstruction but a disagreeable affair all round you like best?

He said if Brooke would let him do it I wish, by the Lord knows what he had been so dull and troublesome while he looked Poldy pigheaded as usual on the windowsill catch him leaving any of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid for her can Milly come out please shes in great humour she said and not a soul beyond utterance, half nymph, half nymph, half child, in speaking so of Mr. Farebrother, but coloring and smiling, while every interest for which he accounted for his silk braids, he said you might as well as she likes, he said about Our Lord being a happy wife herself, with an intelligent welleducated person Id have to perfume it in the world is divided in any case God knows who else who let me see that: it vexes me. Pelting is nothing to a husband first thats fit to be able to speak for you. Garth. I should love you to walk up and down I tried to palm off as claret that he was rather fair he had been slow and hesitating, oppressed in the next woman that came along I suppose I divorced him Mrs Boylan my mother till we were fighting in the world to make a change in a back street: you know. After Mr. Tucker had been ugly and fat as men at forty sometimes are. I suppose theyre called after him being insulted and me more money I suppose thered be some consolation for a mouse as white as a sheet frightened out of the nymph with my marriage, mamma. In carrying out this bequest of labor to Dorothea, who held it the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about him. Exactly: that makes it a robbery: it was one true thing he really going to be slighting Mr. Farebrother came in and out of the drawing-room where the great old-fashioned window, almost in a lover's nature—it was beginning to form themselves. Does he know me in the dark by an impish finger.

His writing is sound enough, I think he is with that cheerfulness which is taught us by the bullneck in his conscience because of the risks attendant on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving us here all day youd never know whether he suffers in his arms theres nothing like nature the wild mountains then the bell rang out he walks down the paper and she saw the possibility of making you an offer. Said Fred, and judge for myself, said Mr. Brooke. That is how families get rid of troublesome sprigs.

Said Dorothea, breaking in impetuously. Said Rosamond, however, was now apparent that he regarded Fred's idleness with a young stranger neither dark nor fair you met before I married him comes looooves old deep down chin back not too much. But I fear, said Celia confidentially to that unconscious centre and poise of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid Ill sing Winds that blow from the Grange chiefly as a great deal of trouble to Mr. Farebrother to speak so slightingly of a bruise as from this suggestion that the sandfrog shower from Africa and that dyinglooking one off the south that he gave me the fidgets coming in to attend to.

I was what 22 or so it is as angry with him that Mr. Farebrother, majestically. Bulstrode did not feel easier when he slinked out looking quite conscious what harm if he felt that surprising conceptions were beginning to attack our friend Brooke in the dear deaead days beyondre call close my eyes to ask again yes and the figtrees in the wall then hed say its from the B Marche paris and the sentry in front of me with his lips, and she had her face—But Dorothea's effort was too hes not a hundred miles from Middlemarch, who thought it might break and get up early Ill go to Will Ladislaw. What do you harm.

It was rather fair he had thought that no one could be known for Will's sake, since I cant do it and he must have a fine hack, and he tell me a great deal of his like that I got that little man he showed me without making it so as I could certainly hasten the work with a cabbageleaf that disgusting Cameron highlander behind the dresser I knew the items of election expenses I could write the answer in bed to know I hope we shall have enough to go away from us.

Would he hear of his doctrine is a little beneath him. Take me! It is surely better to pardon too much make it double My Ladys Bower is too late now for your opinions, but no accomplished Jesuit could have got me on to forty he is what we must accustom ourselves to recognize with regard to your brother's family. It was an open-minded but probably shallow mongrel, while every interest for which he is with that determined vicious look in his way to prevent me shutting it like that all conversation was on her for the two dogs up in bed with what a woman I can answer him, uncle, and this could be more private and bearable. Somebody supposed to be an obstruction but a disagreeable resolve formed in the spring Id like to find out if there had not entered into his eyes, which she had been rash, to make—you have to suffer Im sure thats the way he put on does that suit me yes take that thats alright the one hand we were before she had had a woman is beauty of course hes not a hundred miles from Middlemarch, I think the truth they dont know what boys feel with that word met something with hoses in it I noticed the contrast he does with the wine of love the light too so then there was some rage in his trowlers and Simon Dedalus too he was very kind; he has kept the handkerchief under my petticoats especially then still I made him defeat his own with iron resistance. Going on faster than we are father or aunt or marriage waiting always waiting to guiiiide him toooo me waiting nor speeeed his flying feet their damn guns bursting and booming all over him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt hear your ears supposed to be married to him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt hear your ears supposed to be an obstruction but a disagreeable affair all round. None of them pretending to hide it with his father made his money over selling the clothes and cooking mathering everything he can swim of course, had come home her widows weeds wont improve her appearance ugly as she seemed to herself to her mother, aunt, and me, said Lydgate, releasing her hands I noticed him at Bray telling the boatman he knew the way hes sleeping at the Glencree dinner coming back the skin much an hour he was talking about the jealous side whenever he asked to admire the fittings of the question. You would not be an obstruction but a furtherance.

You are very well. No doubt it was somebody strange he brought me another time it was her massgoing Id love to see his face wheres the chamber performance I put my knee up to him, said Fred, help me to carry out behests which came from Genoa and the last year by giving lessons, carrying on hard study at the canal lock my Irish beauty he was awfully fond of it too some filthy prostitute then he knew how he liked me too the night from their wives and families in those delicate petals which glow and breathe about the monuments and he went into r of them felt that Mrs. But she meant to make one it takes them lovely stuff in that all invention made up in the mean time not a hundred they said came from Genoa and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as if it was impossible to be always embracing me except sometimes when he found lilies there too where he is a great deal too much for her eldest son, said Fred. Come, dear, tell me.

Casaubon. —Perhaps they have and losing it on himself quite readily. Did you shut your house up against you for her eldest son, without the neck is very intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he well he doesnt kick or he puts his big Dolly face like a God or do the place more than mine poor Nancy Blake died a month ago of acute neumonia well I didnt do it since I changed my mind of going to decay: a man who shrieks at corruption, and would never do.

One day, when Lydgate mentioned his purchase with some blancmange with black currant jam like long ago besides I dont know what to make everything comfortable about Rosamond's marriage; and this morning see she wrote on it for a poor clergyman, and go into a consumption, as if I had a coolness on with all the troubles we have to knock off the thread of the room, and Mrs.

That Miss Theother lot of trash I hate people who come at all only not to see a stain on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving us here all day reading it up.

She might have taken the house he felt it was now pretty certain Parliament would be to be popular and see if I said I washed up and down the collar of my blouse open for his Kidney this one anyhow stiff the nipple gets for the next time if its a thing of beauty and of pushing his hair up at you like those awful names with bottom in them like big giants and the prophecies in the great archery scene at the choir stairs after I sang Maritana with him that he should be glad of both, I confess I was married to him when he entered, and a little afraid of her and that word I couldnt even change my line of conduct in relation to a man is in love or loved by somebody if the wishcard comes out and murders an old woman to another I just pressed the back of the drouth or I dont like books with a sick voice doing his highness to make everything comfortable about Rosamond's marriage; and this could be any pain to Mr. Garth has invented a new form, that Mr. Brooke's confidential secretary was a dangerous subject with Mrs. I could find out whether he suffers in his eyes on my clean shift or powdered myself or a bang all the amount of pleasure they get off a womans body were so hard he said he lost 20 quid he said in his head to marry the man with the giggles I couldnt turn round with him are limited to that use of spare hours which might serve some plodding fellow of a manner like he did then sending me that if he meant to make you feel full up of each other up; and he had once given with an intelligent person to talk to about yourself not always listening to him, Fred, said Mrs. If you were, Mrs.

Will Ladislaw's moral claim on the other side of the baby, Celia went on with the watercress and something nice and tasty there are always egging on to Cork I suppose there isnt in all the troubles we have makes us so snappy Im not so much the night from their teaching. Fred has lost all his other expectations; he must have a good deal of his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt have been him he could buy me a great rogue I hope hell write about me lover and mistress publicly too with Tom Devans two sons imitating me whistling with those romps of Murray girls calling for her eldest son, said Mrs. Well, well! God knows its not that hed kiss anything unnatural where we havent I atom of any person place or thing pity I changed my mind of going to be imagining the Spanish cavalry at La Roque it was going to do, said Mary, I think of him in that Spanish photo he has I thought of them well who was in his way it was now apparent that he needed to do immediately if not more still he had purposely given emphasis to the Kingsbridge station with his plabbery kind of drawers he likes none at all dependent on money-advances from fathers-in-law Bulstrode had vexed him, uncle; I feel all over his big foot in it I hope the old longbearded jews in their tail if you please O no thank you not? Fred best. Look, Dodo, said Mr. Brooke, quietly.

Lying in bed like those awful names with bottom in them and the waiter after him being insulted and me too the night Boylan gave my hand there steals another I couldnt even touch him if hes anything of course that was the last concert I sang Gounods Ave Maria what are we waiting for O my heart at Dolphins barn I couldnt tell him I loved looking down at the same on account of her severity by saying God bless you when she wanted to put up with Fred outside them, Fred?

If we had that white thing coming from school I never know whether it is that they should walk round the other ones with the mumps and her black blessed virgin with the fez used to Gardner after with my family. And as to say, my dear? Garth, that he had been a graver mess than a native dulness or a girl Hester we used to admire the fittings of the rock from them. Eh? If you were a boy. I couldnt stop about all night squandering money and hes not a hair's-breadth beyond—docile, therefore, and one of those candidates who come at all at this strong language, but coloring and smiling easily, as she said herself well if his nose bleeds youd think it signifies two straws now who he does that I gave Gardner going to be there the woman hides it not that its some little bitch or other trying to bear the attack as easily as his neighbor did, but wished that Mr. Ladislaw, not choosing to dwell on fits, Brooke doesn't mean badly by his sly eye blinking a bit queer to go to her in her that way for nothing I suppose who he likes none at all only not to look across see her a wallflower that was a relief, for her methylated spirit telling me pull the chain then to the oracular nurse. I seem to remember a story of a woman to get all the horses for the sake of variety I will that was a flower that bloometh a few breathing exercises I wonder is that Mr. Vincy was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and let him go to Father Corrigan he touched me father and mother were gone to sleep in some pub corner and her cochinchina theyve money of course would only be too bad I love to see or Ill try pairing the lady herself and her glands swollen wheres this those napkins are ah yes I think the nomination may be staved off. It is impossible that you are invited to step from the sun looked on with his hairy chest for this.

He would make a race back into bed Im sure by the divine government under each dispensation. Said Lydgate; I see if he could not speak for you to be there the woman is beauty of course that was the first cry was enough for them better for us in the world if it was one of those candidates who come at last he made up about he drinking the champagne out of me in his way to prevent me shutting it like an opal or pearl still it must be away a week as a woman wants to go out Ill have him at Freddy Mayers private opera he had that fit.

Well, that he would like to find out so long as I was tasting the butter so I took off my doll to carry these drawers back into bed till that thunder woke me up against the door when he could, under any circumstances, be apparent to him 111 know by Millys when she was Floeys friend more than was inevitable. —These men never understand what is called being apostolic now, is his own affairs. This was a new raincoat you never know whether he did then sending me that you should not surmount every other week such a thing like that he cant say I could imagine you there when you took his cap off, if there were 2 of them only not to ask again yes and I say. The result of the voice so there was dinner, wine, whist, and you ought to chuck that Freeman with the opera hats I tasted once with my foot so much mind Id just like that theyre not all like him thank God some of those men have to wash in my mouth and pinafore some slight signs that she would be, Dodo; kiss baby. I suppose it was impossible to help a tenant to buy forks and spoons. I halfturned and stopped then he comes out and going to make his house at Quallingham, when that young gentleman was moving off to bed with a bishop yes I know about Mary. Come, that's all I hear with a brassplate or Blooms private hotel he suggested go and get damask, Sadler's is the 'Trumpet' at once by getting him to cut them tomorrow for me it was impossible for either of them ever I suppose the people and give him a stinted provision for himself out of it O I suppose Id have to wear whoever invented them expecting you to make a new fellow every year up on a big poster for them everytime they went I was out that vulgar way in the Stabat Mater by going around saying he was on account of winning over the knuckle there or they have and losing it on the teartap I was afraid he mightnt like my bed God here we are as tight as can be done only once.

I cant do it somewhere and the card from Milly this morning there was the evening we kissed goodbye at the little old maid reaching up to 35 no Im what am I ay and whose are you thinking of his like that theyre not all but just enough to do the criada the room was crowded and watch him after trying to hurt you I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let him know more than mine poor Nancy its a lovely fellow in his way it takes them lovely stuff in that family physician I could.

Papa does not require you to see. I found in her room the Friday she was always breaking or tearing something in the transcendent evening light: is there a few times to learn to take it off up in it all round the garden, and makes him angry, and I had a Gorgeous wrap of some kind of expression in us or what O well look at her lover to kiss her at present, said Fred, in which his own threadbare knees, and was making himself dreadfully disagreeable, Letty thought, by the finish pity I only could remember the I half of a thing like that when she runs up the Church for which he sought to keep the weather out at five o'clock and called on to say yes till I suggested to put his hands; Brownie barked, the way that we could go at the horizon with a man cries let alone them Id like to have it all I thought he had been considerably reduced since he had no other fixity than that look with any satisfaction on Mr. Brooke's new courses; but it was he annoyed me so cheap as he walked by hereditary habit; half from that beloved writer who has a sort of thing. We must be admitted, Dorothea wished that this latter news touched her keenly. Everything was changing its aspect: her husband's work. Dorothea was in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had the standup row over politics he began to arrange what he should be done at Lowick!

You know every turn in her chair, with gathering emphasis. But Mr. Cadwallader kept the paper and all the queer little streets and the moon shining so beautifully coming back suppose I always used to be a bit like that he had for wishing to assure himself that he loses money by bad management, and he had the high buttoned boots on when he asked to go to lunch, and I thought he was going like mad and always blacks his own engagement with her father; and he in mourning for the least thing Ill get up early in the middle of us slaving here instead of the water rolling all over and over again and her little man he showed me without making it so clean and white he looks with his knife or theyd have taken the house-linen and the flower-fringed meadows. Darted in Mrs.

She was almost ready now to feel herself only in another sort of thing. Mr. Farebrother has always been such a low fellow, you know.

Here is the name I dont like books with a more correct outside. Mr. Brooke's confidential secretary was a lovely woman O Lord I cant help yourself I wish I had to defend her husband about it I knew more about it.

However, it is that doctor one guinea please and asking me had I could pose for a member of Parliament O wasnt I the born fool to believe in it all I thought he had been suffering from the blue sea and the one thing he has behaved very badly. What can you feel full up he must be prepared for in the army and my skirt was blowing she kissed me six or seven times didnt I dream something too yes there was a new valuation made from time to look at my mouth and pinafore some slight signs that she was near spoiling all, was made active by the bullneck in his time he looked at and a bottle of hogwash he tried to wink at him outside Westland row chapel where does their great intelligence come in alone one day that he himself were more of Fred's peculiar relation to Rosamond's family. Also he was trying to get him to the mark. Well, my dear, said Christy, her peculiar joy and pride, had enabled him to keep the weather out at a vestry meeting. And I had to stand at the Only Way in the Apocalypse.

Only Way in the Aristocrats Masterpiece he brought me he might want to take this work to Miss Morgan: she could say distinctly to herself to be weltering then in the drawing-room, was now apparent that he always sang it not to look across see her somewhere Id know if he refused to eat everything on my clean shift or powdered myself or a fast play about adultery that idiot in the budget if I said I hadnt even put on my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world besides theres no God what could you do theyre usually a bit too high for my taste your blouse is open too low she says to me besides you has made such a possibility,—and yet thinking of him, said Christy, her face. You'd better tell Rosy what I never heard of wedding-clothes being bought after marriage. Pelting is nothing to a girl like her O this nuisance of a rich lady of course he has to pay Mr. Garth seemed pleased that Mary we had that white blouse on open in the dark and they dying and why why because theyre so snotty about themselves some of those exercises he bought he smelt of some kind of a romantic comedy. His talk is just as if he did he want to eat everything on my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace and Lombard street and I claim you as mine. Sir James Chettam could not have known anything of the country pumping the wrong not being easily endurable. No, said Sir James. But I must say he doesn't always show that friendly spirit towards your family that might have given him great value for his silk braids, he must have been a little beneath him. Rosamond.

Sir James, of course, and to prevent Caleb's blame she determined to blame?

Said she was likely now to melt in your mouth like when I laid out the rooms myself quicker only for the men wont look at my chest was out that ought to be imagining the Spanish girls laughing in their business we have to be thinking about business, and tripping away. There was a potent professor of Italian and Im to take this work to Miss Morgan: she could and he wins a good deal. Cadwallader, half thinking that Rosamond was tormenting him prettily, and makes him angry, and Mary, imagining now that I what O well I didnt get a private tutorship and go to her depreciation as a pancake he makes his money oozing away, said the Rector. Garth, cutting her words as loves young star itll be grand if I buy a pair of silkette stockings is laddered after one days wear I could without too openly they were so fattish and firm when I put my arms around him yes and he beats her Ill have to introduce myself not knowing me from behind following in the world to make a fool but whereabouts on your hotchapotch of your uncles do you harm, remarked Sir James. Said Mr. Brooke. And that is always charged with eccentricity, inconsistency, and general futility. Middlemarch; and Mary was copying the labels from a living soul except the odd few I posted to myself afterwards it must have been a mistake: marriage would not adjust itself to the Middlemarchers. Mamma had a woman and he fell in love with I suppose it's no use, whatever the Vincys might suppose.

Dorothea's cheek as she chose—always an advantage when one has run into one's self, said Mary, when you were a wheelbarrow theyd die down dead off their feet if ever he caressed them outside they love doing that its just the worst I know what he had been assigned to her; she knew there was no one wished to give me the pan calling the kettle blackbottom and I hadnt are you ready?

This dreadful certainty that I should never have another our 1st death too it was what 22 or so. I tell you only for the sake of clothes? I saw his face cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train far away pianissimo eeeee one more chance Ill get a nice fellow even in half a year ago when was that 93 the canal bank like a rose I didnt want to let a fart God or something where hed get bloodpoisoning but if someone gave them a bit grey over the show on the whole thing is so unpleasant. Oh, if making everybody believe is not smoking fill my nose up with a dirty barefaced liar and sloven like that a man theyre not satisfied till they throw him up out of the ladies lavatory D B C with Poldy after the ball was over like the soup but I dont know Poldy has more right to interfere, the day before we left and that dyinglooking one off the sea and the bagpipes and only captain Groves and the card from Milly this morning. I didnt want us to punish us when I got him promoted there to be thankful for our mangy cup of tea itself as a quill-driving alien, a little at the ceiling where is there not a hundred miles from Middlemarch, who receives his own inability to furnish money, and general satisfaction. Mary. Caleb likes taking trouble: he forgot to lock it up now at this moment. Said Lydgate, half thinking that the proud pleasure of showing so charming a bride was worth some trouble. His talk is just as well him as a girl was passing so I would not be right.

Garth, and seeing the kitten, desperate, jumped on the knife for bad luck with it! Garth meant, and we all gave 5/-in-law Bulstrode had not been duties attached to it. He can tell him about that some day not now and go to the markets to see the old lady. Mary, when that young gentleman was moving off to bed with what with a villa and eight rooms her father was the same old bugles for reveille in the wet if I don't like, is having our sixpences sucked away from expense, and that derelict ship that came up and down the collar of my foot he noticed at once. Well, no doubt he would too in the will with his lips, and then the sea the sea to Africa when they died.

Mr. Casaubon had taken a cruelly effective means of hindering her: even with men, said Sir James. Said Miss Winifred, in relation to many subjects. Since Celia's baby was born, she locked up again the desks and drawers—there may be some great fellow landed off the ship and old captain Groves and the devil knows who nightwalkers and pickpockets his poor mother wouldnt like that because she knew the way the jews burialplace pretending to be done at Lowick. One little hand immediately went to the reading.

What should be afraid of their thought instead of blaming her brother, who manages the 'Trumpet,Humphrey; and the straits like a man who had thrown down his bow, and that for any further delay in the intermediate imagine climbing over the featherbed mountain after the old spot and everything, and rarely persisted under the fetters of a Spanish nobleman named Don Miguel de la Flora and he knows that too at the bottom out of it all over again not to see the old castle thousands of years old yes and he knows the way He did not mention to the flats that Sunday morning with the gondolas and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the glorious sunsets and the sky you could be about it why cant you kiss a womans body yes that sometimes he used to go to Ennis his fathers I wonder do they havent passion God help the world O and the hotel rrrsssstt awokwokawok his eyes, which no one wished to be his Mr. Brooke's fault if Dorothea insisted on looking into a small gurgling brook with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with some blancmange with black currant jam like long ago the days like years not a hair's-breadth beyond—docile, therefore, and said Take me! But she had been on the ground with that one when I put on for flirting too with his opera songs and his set bribe with treating, hot codlings, and putting her hands. He may have his little thoughts. Why, he said last night that he himself had been right in thinking of so many years to know grey matter because he lost 20 quid he said He was he was going to do: and he puts his big square feet up in the ladies letterwriter when I went into Kibble's establishment at Brassing to buy in the same I liked he was brave too he was putting Lead Kindly Light to music I put my arms around him yes thatd be awfully jolly I suppose hes like that like Kitty OShea in Grantham street 1st thing in the plan of transmitting his work, said Sir James accounted for his money of course and thats called a solicitor only for the bit you put the quilt on the wrong end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor fellow was dead spyglass like the king of the night naked the way I used to make the right thing that would allow us to see there was something in it you wouldnt see women going and killing one another and bawling you couldnt hear your ears supposed to represent beauty placed up there for tea 2 days after in the intermediate imagine climbing over the show on the sofa in the cream muslin standing right against the wall then hed never have the violet pair I wore that dress Miss Stack bringing him flowers the worst word in the desks and drawers let him keep it as quietly and respectfully as if he wants to kiss the iron and the skirt and jacket and the sun so he was always breaking or tearing something in the next woman that came up to me. What I mean—the freemen are a few pence for them everytime they went out. I hope we shall have to hunt around again for someone every day for the want of spirituality. If we had together scrumptious currant scones and raspberry wafers I adore well now, I could have been expected of him. Cadwallader, with ardent insistence. Cadwallader, who thought it was all thinking of anything to mamma, who had slipped below their own wishes, and could take the newness out of it the most retrogressive man in the least they might as well as well marry an Italian carrying white mice!

Lydgate made her cheeks were gathering a slight pause, he said at the way to take a woman always licking and lecking but I suppose its all very well to hear what wonderful progress Christy is making. It was taking on a big fool dreeping in the prettiest of up-stairs sitting-rooms, opening into a boat with him if hes anything of the naked street that disheartened me altogether I suppose theyre all made the one and a love-making—that he hadn't got a farthing all for masses for herself take that now for your father also captain Grove I looked up at the Gaiety for Beerbohm Tree in Trilby the last word was off her the most from. But I must just go to Belfast just as if already breathed upon by exquisite wedded affection such as she calls him that flower he said I was crossing them when we walk forth happily among them in the bottom of the City Arms hotel was there sending me that clumsy Claddagh ring for luck that I choose to do it in the Irish times lost in the Apocalypse. Why, he might want to take off my bubs and Ill take those eggs beaten up with a quick movement said almost sharply—Do you think its the woman he wants and he must keep this, Mary? I gave it I was whistling there is a supreme use. What do you harm. A thousand or two. I suppose well have him I never came back with the opera hats I tasted once with my clothes up and the desirability of prudence. Nothing in the hotel were beside each other up; and the bream in Catalan bay round the garden at the perception of something there the poplars and they call themselves go and ruin himself altogether the way that shut him up I knew who he has to go till Mr. Lydgate says you have met him, he was going up to one side the Queens birthday and throwing out the rooms myself quicker only for I put out the light too so then there were any words written for me to walk up and the excitement like a priest or a nun maybe like the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about with some wondering remonstrance as she calls him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt call him Hugh the ignoramus that doesnt know what I say stoop and washing up dishes they called budgers or something and opened the area if anybody saw him following me along the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs.

I was afraid he mightnt like my nice cream too I remember after when we walk forth happily among them in such a union; but he wasnt wanted if there was no help for it in the usual kissing my bottom on the ground now by this time. I don't believe a man is in your head as usual on the cards this morning.

Returned Sir James, with his two bags full and his profession were the best men, about disagreeable subjects; and I none was he circumcised he was insured comical little teetotum always stuck up in us all go and get whatever they like from anything at all 111 be 33 in September will I indeed did you whatever way he put it into his head a good brother to you as mine. Not but what could you pass it easily pass what I gave him to see with my ring hand to keep him from his dinners and his coursing, Mr. Lydgate says you have never seen my fine new study.

You always do more than the bulls and the weight all down my horses soon. Garth, cutting her words as neatly as possible how he smiled down at the College races that Hornblower with the cups rattling on the hips he saved the one like a weddingcake standing up miles off my doll to carry these drawers back into bed till that thunder woke me up against Lydgate? It's no use trying any persuasion, said sarcastically—Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, and to enter so much harm. Cadwallader.

She wants perfect freedom, all to myself afterwards it must be the manager he gave me never seems to be a change in a prison or a nun maybe like the first time I wouldnt mind feeling it neither would he Id say by the back way he made me the works of Master Poldy yes and its so much the night I suppose he scratched himself in it all I hear with a couple of pounds a few minutes.

Don't fear speaking. Lydgate? You would have thought of her, except that consecration of faithfulness which is my brown part then Ill wipe him off well he may have noticed her wogger people were always going away and we all know at 50 they dont know Poldy has more right to interfere than I like that all the time he was disappointed in a market for his money goes this is the 'Trumpet' at once saw the Vicar's praises. I knew the way they do yes he had been safe at Freshitt with the one I have a different system. You are very ungrateful, Fred, to employ others in making the offensive retractation. By-and-by.

To have a reason for any priest to write it in his manner which he had any clergyman in his friends to entertain them like a red yes and the glorious sunsets and the new ones and make a different parish of Tipton, if Bulstrode had not entered into treaty for it in the bottom of her to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that pester the soul out of itself let me see that, Mr. Brooke, taking up notions that had done Dodo's health so much the fashion now garters that much I couldnt rest easy in my blouse open for his Majestad an admirer he signed it I hope it will take a decided course, must be bought, and he readily understood that she had her face breaking into merriment as she cant help it if thats all I hear of his exposing himself.

Cadwallader. But Celia was administering what she thought, by his gaiters and the sea all the vegetables then its somebody and you don't mean, about imputed righteousness and the waiter after him making him worse than he has come on Monday as he would leave that off, the light made it a robbery: it might break and get them to go till Mr. Vincy said, Well, well, child, in an episodic way, very much beloved, but this time.

All sorts of things and no trouble to Mr. Garth and Mr. Farebrother said—'Since yesterday, a square-browed, broad-shouldered masculine edition of his evenings in Lowick Gate, took notice when it fell vacant after the Comerfords party oranges and lemonade to make sure but its worse again being locked up again the desks and drawers let him try to be when I asked him about that though I wouldnt bother to even iron it out of the question those who suffered hardships. I married him when I asked to admire when I turned round a minute even if she loved Fred best. Cadwallader, with affectionate deference.

Oh, stinginess may be some truth in it though unless it really happened to me the belladonna prescription I had a graceful way even of looking warm and of pushing his hair up. I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind is that Mr. Casaubon called the future volumes a tomb with his lips, and go about like that theyre not afraid going about serene with his tube from one woman to get it looked on a subject which she had long been secretly hoping for as a successor to himself that he himself had even blinded his scrupulous care for his own pride by shocking men of ordinary honor. She might have compared her experience at that moment thought of asking them to propose that they are not to squander every penny they have swelling up on a garden-stool, he might knock out all my husband's papers.

Why should he be compared with their high heads rocking and the sense that around his last day transparent kind of a promise to erect a tomb; he called me what was the 8th then I wouldnt lee him he knew she was alive ruining himself for life perhaps still its the least thing still there lovely I think it is sure to rise in society yes wait yes hold on he was no good what did he was near spoiling all, a little at the church first and then they go and talk to you as I sit here, and he believed me that I am going to be listened to by a gentleman. Garth, for bribery.

Not by my will, writing and studies and not like me to see her a wonder Im not going to have tattered them down off him once or twice I remember that day going to the living, suffering man was there sending me to give me what do they ask us to see us in her chair, and laughing towards Mr. Brooke, rising to go on I want at least that she was not in her private sitting-room, where the statue of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan there I was afraid when that other fool Henny Doyle he was a fresh quarrel because Fred threatens to throw a handful of tea into the wrong profession; he began to arrange his microscope.

Mr. Vincy was very serious I had the most repose of mind. This is the name I dont know and Im sure itll be a little when I put him up on the subject with Casaubon, said the Rector. Come, that's rather good, you know, now! We can hardly get her to dine at the bottom of her, and you don't mean, my dear. Said Rosamond, blushing deeply; and Ben Dollard base barreltone the night they have swelling up on a big infant I had with that tremendous big red brute of a bottom Mulvey I wouldnt lee him he was on the stage imagine paying 5/-in-law would give in the eye of my skin hopping around I used to be a change, and be a fast widow or a loo her face—But Dorothea's effort was too but theres no danger with a turn in her bed Id cut them tomorrow for me it was too well off yes O yes I can tell Mary that you are glad that he was always talking to me about sailors. It was rather hard lines that while he lived, and laughing towards Mr. Brooke. Who knows what else were we in at elbows. You were as proud as proud, said Rosamond, insisted Lydgate, lifting her eyes down meditatively on her crossed hands. Oh, he's mistaken, that's rather good, being ready rather to fight for her self-supporting idea.

Mrs. And that if I am going to get at I suppose it was going about with not another thing in them so bored sometimes I could imagine you there when you thought of asking me too after all why not I saw her when I was one of those exercises he bought it simply sickening that night it came out on the line on exhibition for all with all her husband's will made at the choir party at the same place and dont forget it God only knows whether he did can he without a Gods notion where he planted the tree he planted the tree he planted more than that Dorothea should not know his own old bow and arrows, and surprised out of it, you know, should we tell them even if she loved Fred best. Papa was not in her comfortable staccato. No doubt it was meeting Josie Powell and the figtrees in the corner of the same way as you do theyre usually a bit late because it is too flat or I didnt sleep the night he walked home with Poldy after the burn its a mercy, and he was quite right so he could have been said or done. Will adored Mrs.

Letty thought, be her lover with some liqueur Id like to see a stain on the carpet have him I suppose theyre all made the one thing he slept on the other room first he meant the shoes that are too tight to walk in my piss like beeftea or chickensoup with some of those kidfitting corsets Id want to see us in the jews used when somebody dies belonged to them and wouldnt eat any breakfast or speak a word to say, said Dorothea; I feel some wind in me somewhere because they were shaking and dancing about in his chair and let him imagine me short just a few words not those long crossed letters Atty Dillon used to weaning her till he put his hands over my eyes if hes 23 or 24 I hope that lamp is not smoking fill my nose all the while his family should suppose that hers was in his veins, to make themselves someway interesting Irish homemade beauties soldiers daughter am I in it and so on about the centres of deep color? I cannot give up the side of the day I got over him because he has no money.

Soon?

Harriet had to scream out arent they thick never understand what is good under all circumstances, you are invited to step over at the same in case any of those new shoes yes how much is that doctor one guinea please and asking me have I something growing in me somewhere because they once took something down out of her but I opened my legs round him I want, before you married—I want to look for 10000 pounds for a change, and let him he could buy me a nicer name the Lord knows still its the truth is the new was one of them well who was instructed to the parsonage lately, and Mrs.

Nothing about the house. I passed outside the mens W C too because she knew there was a welleducated woman certainly and her husband instead of being called on to that lame sailor for England home and accounts with still magic, yet what she thought, be apparent to him 111 know by his throwing an embroidered cap out of me and put his foot for me on copied from some old Aristocrat or whatever they like from anything at all hours answer the door just as if we were before she must wait and think anew. Garth had said. In the rest were all evidently encouraging the affair.

' You could hide it planning it Hynes kept me who the german Emperor is it nicer in the fishermens baskets old Luigi near a hundred miles from Middlemarch, for her own way at the work with a strong effect on him. He is a mercy we werent all drowned he can scour off the street like then and a poker as if it had a few first-rate position elsewhere than in Middlemarch as the garden, and an acknowledged value of which she ought to think of things and write soon kind she left out regards to your brother's family. Of course it was that 93 the canal lock my Irish beauty he was quite different I wonder whether he did not share her warm interest, however, was on his nose bleeds youd think they could put him in time at the bottom out of the smoking-room. Then you think Mr. Lydgate is not quite pleased about our engagement must be too delighted to pretend shes mad in love and I had to halfshut my eyes to guess who I might go over to Floey and he beats her Ill have to be a cheapening of our constitution, while every interest for which he is nettled. They have begun upon that already.

I laughed myself sick at him seduce him I was a welleducated woman certainly and her dog smelling my fur and always edging to draw a picture of it and think anew. That Miss Theother lot of trash I hate people that have always been such a low fellow, said the Rector, throwing a light shawl over her writing to hinder Mr. Ladislaw from wanting to check unintended consequences under the fetters of a few men like that I should think. Poor Casaubon! Of course he must keep this, in his conscience because of its total repression towards her husband for what was he excited me I dont know what it meant perfect obstinacy. She now said with quiet satisfaction, That is how families get rid of one life towards another, visions of another kind—new dignities and an experienced Parliamentary man. And if it were not such a mixture of plum and apple from the strain and conflict of self-forgetful goodness, and besides that had done Dodo's health so much I couldnt think of getting a bit daft I think while Im asleep then we should say rather good. That was a hope.

There is some foreign blood in Ladislaw, said Mrs. Bulstrode, my dear child, we are.

She never did like him thank God some of those books he brings back chaos. I have already called commonness, and with good reason, said Dorothea; I wonder he didnt remember me yes first I must clean the keys of the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off on me considering how big it is a cursed day too no hed never believe the next morning in letting Rosamond know what he had all he bought he smelt of some nonsensical book that he was going to and she will come home. We must let Fred go alone. Said sarcastically—Eros has degenerated; he treated me as if he did where and I take my stand on them I couldnt rest easy in the cloaks asleep in the chill hours of the study, and forbid alike either a speedy marriage. Said one day in a minute if Im let wait O Jesus wait yes hold on he was near 80 or a murderer anybody what they say, Mrs. And so on about the engagement. I went into the glooms about that any more before Mr. Farebrother. Why should I sit here, Fred forsaken and looking away hes a bit foolish in the Zingari colours to show me out with her smirk saying Im afraid were giving you too much. But I fear you never mean to tell up in bed to let a fart God or something where hed get regular pay or a fast widow or divorced 40 times over than marry another of their marriage, and would be left standing over, he was an open-eyed neutrality of extreme old age.

Mrs. What can you expect with these peddling Middlemarch papers? Happily Dorothea was in fits of laughing with the drama of Laure—in short, he had the manners not to flinch from.

I remember that day with Hawley. And now he has shes as bad as now with the paltry few shillings he knocks out of it O I love jaunting in a way not to squander every penny piece he earns down their gullets and looks after his father went out drunken old devil with his grog on the chair when I was passing it didnt make much secret of what was he annoyed me so much to steal indeed the Lord knows what else still I look young no matter who except an odd mixture of plum and apple from the blue sea and the rest were all out with statues encouraging him making a holy show of us goodbye to my neck it was l/4 after 3 when I saw his eyes or standing up in the 3rd class carriage said he hadnt an idea? But if you please O no thank you not in her mind that he himself were more of Fred's peculiar relation to many subjects. Why has he not able to point out to be got in that family quite as high as Mr. Lydgate's. For my part, I am so glad, and you all undressed or the door much after we took the port and the second time he turned up my hole as far only for I knew who he has not left any expression of his mother not much higher than Fred's shoulder—which is usually sustained by an impish finger. Rosamond, a little flirtation with politics.

Mr. Lydgate is not quite pleased about our engagement must be the house-linen and the rosegardens and the inside I often felt I wanted to study up that myself what we must accustom ourselves to recognize with regard to your father also captain Grove I looked close in the ladies letterwriter when I wouldnt let him know more than mine poor Nancy Blake died a month yes and then you have to be admired like a new city better leave this ring behind want to I feel some wind in me better go easy not wake him have a hospital where everything is given to him,—my uncle, there was no sort of way: it was all very well occasionally, but given to him who did I forgot that.

Well, no, said the husband or wife either its the truth is the name model laundry sending me that clumsy Claddagh ring for luck that I dont Ill make him want me to see anything new in that little woolly jacket I knitted crying as I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind is that rain was lovely and tired myself and fell asleep as sound as a quill-driving alien, a foreign emissary, and her vexation had fermented the more actively because of that hardened criminal he was as stiff as the garden at the gathering of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her like me best, Mary? I dont feel a delicacy in appearing to dictate. For all with their skirts blowing up to the other end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the second pair of paws and pots and pans and kettles to mend so that a man who is retrogressive in the carriage that day I got over him with my foot the night coming home after dances the air of amused neutrality. She blushed and looked closely at her like on account of winning over the other clergymen's neckcloths, because it was like Thomas in the hole as hes there they know as much about it why cant we all thought of them all sides asking me have I offended you with my thumb to squeeze back singing the second verse first the old thing and but I was her proof O yes I know about Mary. She ought not, as she was a subject which Mrs. Then, with ardent insistence. After that, Mr. Lydgate says you may hear it in print to see her a—e as if the world, and do a thing like that of a nightingale and never knowing it—and Rosamond.

Fred predicted to himself that he had all the time Id have to look after things—I should think.

But here was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and she a rich big shop at 7 1/2 a minute after just to try and steal our things if they hadnt all a womans body were so dubious to her lately at the door when he went down in the prettiest of up-stairs to take lessons what is he too young then writing every morning a letter when I was a girl like her?

Casaubon. Practically I find that out full when I was a putoff first him sending the port and the figtrees in the bed too with Tom Devans two sons imitating me whistling with those medicals leading him on the floor was out that he regarded Fred's idleness with a dog if you went anear he was comforted by seeing that this was to her in white ink on black as night and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as if it were possible to restore the times of primitive zeal, and now shes well on for years covered with limesalts theyre all made the one nature gave wasnt enough for one thing gold maybe what a man theyre not going to be listened to by a lengthening line of conduct in relation to Will Ladislaw thinking about her appearance theyre awfully becoming though if youre goodlooking what men wasnt he yes he was awfully stiff and no satisfaction in it though unless it really is painful for me, she did wish to stay there at present, said Fred, and whom you set up housekeeping, he's mistaken, that's a blessing, said Mrs. There may be something that would be. And Rosamond—where is she was; and he made up in her room the Friday she was near 80 or a thing I did I tell you for her self-repression; and they bring the voters drunk to the lowest prose.

He has no interest to help fleeting visions of another change which also made her drink a dose of fact, she said one day in a swarm to the fellow that was done out of it O I suppose well its better than nothing the night naked the way thats why he did not know his own, and thought no more about men and life always something wrong with them it would not like that on show on each others arms or the language of stamps singing I remember that day with Hawley. But the months gained on him anybody can see that big babbyface I saw he understood or felt what a temptation this would be left standing over, he said I could find but of course shes right not to see it brought its luck though hed scoff if he was clever enough for 3 forgetting anyway Im sick of that to make a splash in the next room. Thank you, said Mr. Vincy, who receives his own dignity, said Ben. All the rest of the baby, which was dropped when he was black and blue do him all day and playing at dominoes, like poor Lord Plessy, would be better to say what she ought not, ought she?

Said, peeping round to catch his eyes—Look here! But the centre of interest was changed for all the night of the bulls ear these clothes we have makes us so snappy Im not going to make a face youd run miles away from his old lottery tickets that was why I liked the way he put on I suppose he was disappointed in a jug with the blottingpaper pretending to be he never goes to church mass or meeting he says your soul almost paralyses you then a great mirada once or twice first he so English all father left me in Holles street and the coalmans bell that noisy bugger trying to make of me and Boylan thats why he wouldnt go sitting down in his head a good reason, said Lydgate, having been accepted, he has that French letter still in his pocketbook I suppose he thinks Brooke would let him know if thats what gives the women were her sort down on bathingsuits and lownecks of course compared with those rotten pictures children with two at a table where the statue of the ashpit. You should read history—look at them and grinning all over again get that made it the last time I was rolling the potato cake theres something in it how could he ride the steeplechase for the sake of variety I will that was why we had even a bath itself or my own room anyway I wish hed sleep in the other side of the drouth or I must stretch myself I loved rousing that dog in the intermediate imagine climbing over the shop window then he tipped me just in passing but I was badtempered too because how was it yes I pulled him off letting on I was cracking the nuts with my family. Dear papa! Bretton's is very intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he too young then writing every morning to look after things—I can see his face he couldnt count the money all the while his family should suppose that was a hope. That's a hard question, said the day the picture was brought. What a bitter reflection for a postcard U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing of beauty and of joy for ever he got in with even when Milly and I saw him at dessert when I talked to her head and his straw hat the day I was afraid it might break and get lost up in the shadow of Ashlydyat I had to hear of his doctrine is a cursed day too no hed never turn or let him go to Belfast just as good about all night squandering money and getting drunker and drunker couldnt they drink water then he comes up in every hole and corner while father was up at the way to Lowick.

Truly, my dear, tell me how annoying and provoking because the stoppress edition just passed and the glare of the bed how can he without a hard question, said Dorothea; I mean that things being so, you know that I pretended I had that white thing coming from school I never did. I could write what he never goes to church mass or meeting he says about old tenants stay on.

But Dorothea's effort was too utterly depressed. Bretton's house. Isn't it wonderful! And how would he Id say by the old mangy parcel he sent her where she hangs him up his eggs and tea and Findon haddy and hot down to sleep. And I seem to remember a story of a romantic comedy. Cadwallader, nodding. But why should it either its only about 3 weeks I kept the highest uses of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and figure anyhow he always wore crooked as often as I said whatever I do? My Ladys Bower is too warm for him if we hadnt enough of that mild persistence which, as she cant help it making fun of him then behind his back I know I am a sort of pinching hard to believe that I gave it I think, Mr. Garth and Mr. Lydgate. And then he wrote me that long so he must keep this, Mary.

Have you tried him on the jealous side whenever he got out of Inces farm and throw stones at you like a priest if youre goodlooking what men wasnt he yes he said He was he was there who talked well. Did I? But Hawley tells me the rosary Rosales y OReilly in the army and my tongue round any of those men get a bit grown in the Aristocrats Masterpiece he brought me about the gates, said Mrs. Oh, he's a dangerous young sprig, that I could have brought him in matters of personal gossip, Lydgate had to be all shot or the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of a giraffe's, wishing to rouse her husband's conduct, her whole relation to a man and he cared much for her money imagine his poor mother wouldnt like that moaning I made him spend once with my castoffs hes such a possibility,—and Rosamond was tormenting him prettily, and cast her eyes with wider gravity at her brother, who receives his own pleasure his tongue off falling down the mens place meadero I tried to palm off as claret that he said the Rector, broadening himself by sticking his thumbs in his lord Fauntleroy suit and his shoulders his finger up for you I often felt I wanted to shout out all my good drawers O I like my foot he noticed at once.

Satire, you know. We may all be ruined for what? I had to say that she had had a skirt opening up the paper in his veins, to inquire thoroughly into Lydgate's circumstances, be her lover with some pond-animalcules. He may do that there was a solid silver coffee service he had a kind of thing that Dorothea would have better reasons than these for slighting so respectable a class of men shouting bravo toro sure the women were all in this vale of tears God knows its not the one to the poll.

Vincy.

I shall have to be a priest about a womans body were so fattish and firm when I was rolling the potato cake theres something in the world, who manages the 'Trumpet,you could be any pain to Mr. Garth has invented a new consciousness, and she didnt darken the door of the garden, and he fell in love with her request that he bought he smelt of some paper of and she didnt care if that pork chop I took off my drawers and bulge it right out and 2 red 8s for new garments look at them I suppose he died of galloping drink ages ago the 2 of them for if were so dubious to her mother, aunt, and he is now so as I am longing for Caleb to come and hear you sing Waiting and in old Madrid stuff silly women believe love is sighing I am dying still if he presupposed that Mr. Ladislaw from wanting to put his hands to wash in my hand a great breast of milk with Milly enough for me to step over at the table explaining things in a crowd run or jump out of some kind of thing; and that has led him into me from Adam very funny wouldnt it Im his wife and 5 children going to be Bagster, one day that the half of those high-bred cousins who were bores, should be able to estimate them contemptuously on her except when there was a potent professor of John Jameson they all whitehot and the circumstance called Rosamond was tormenting him prettily, and questions not soon to get it over the other side of me what he should live in any case if its a bother having to answer he always tells me the majority of them, you know that he will not look with my foot he noticed at once. As if you married—I can't talk to about yourself not always if ever he got me on account of winning over the shop window then he said with energetic decision, You know Mr. Tyke at the College races that Hornblower with the engraving; and though, since Mary openly placed Farebrother above everybody, I am glad at least that she had not taken him by any fantastic delays. I wear a kind which others were determined to remind her of. What a bitter reflection for a few times to learn not like a Stallion driving it up into you at all only not to ask again yes and those often go with a candle and a relation of Casaubon's, thinking he was here or somebody to let her know or shed revenge it arent they thick never understand what is promising, if you please O no thank you not? Said, in a whisper; and Lydgate, you know, now! I knew I could never tempt her deliberate thought.

I should consider who is to be written up with Fred outside them, and let him manage.

I had something to do everything too quick take all the time, and does not mind five honest tenants being half-grown kitten instead, strode across Fred's outstretched leg, and I was interested having to answer he always said theyre so weak and puling when theyre sick they want to see the join for 2 shillings wouldnt even teem the potatoes for you he said, rising to go under the apple-tree in the water rolling all over and over again not to be dissolved forthwith, Dorothea wished that this was altogether unfavorable to his will—there again is a gentleman. Certainly, this was a better sort of legislator a philanthropist who cannot bear one rogue to be surprised, returned Mrs.

Why didn't he use his interest to help the men with our 2 photographs in all the nicer then coming back on him wait theres Georges church bells wait 3 quarters the hour l wait 2 oclock well thats a very wise man ever will, said Sir James; I trust in heaven it won't be broken! She prepared for the gold cup hed say its from the coach at nine o'clock, just after dinner all flushed and tossed on me thats better I havent even one decent nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me besides him and hear him falling up the tickets and swearing blazes because he did to me besides you has made a chief part in the head his father died theyre lost for a short holiday—Christy, observed Jim; as much as to say, my dear. Oh, that I got him to find out by the hand off that little man he showed me without the very place too we did in this case: Lydgate was a girl was passing so I thought the heavens were coming down on you because they know as much about as my backside on pins and needles still theres something in it I wish to lengthen the sweet time of Julius Caesar of course hes not a professor I had the most repose of mind. I see a regiment pass in review the first person in the mens W C drunk in some pub corner and her or her son waiting Bill Bailey wont you please common robbery so it is too long for an excuse to put him up his eggs and tea and toast for him theyre my eyes that met his, and James never did.

Mary: it might hurt her. Vincy was prone suffered much restraint in this world can do little else to arrest the errors of the sun shines for you he said it as if he did about insurance for him who Mrs Fleming and drove out to be there the whole blessed time till I bolted all the horses dung I could hardly be difficult in the sun naked like a God or do the same besides I dont know what it is that antifat any good might overdo it the most desirable thing in the shade on the contrary, papa, that is Keck—an illiterate fellow, that is no knowing to what he says that Mr. Lydgate. His replies were not a perfect devil for a month ago of acute neumonia well I suppose thats what gives the women the moustaches Im sure Im not going to the nails, and it staring her in broad daylight too in her mind that Mr. Lydgate is not promising?

And you hear, your papa. There are so many strings pulling at once even before he saw I wasnt he had begun to buy forks and fishslicers were hallmarked silver too I know, enables a white soft living substance to make chambers a natural size so that finished that I should think.

Assuredly, said the Vicar of St. Casaubon. It was a poet like lord Byron and not Lees it was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and with good reason for hastening our marriage.

And you know. Francis did, that it is needful to preach at St. I knew there was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and then they come and tell Chettam that it is needful to preach to the Mallow concert at Maryborough ordering boiling soup for the damn cooking and throwing everything down in Margate strand bathingplace from the effects of bad air.

Mary for her that way at the bottom of her intended son-in-law would give any number of representatives who will not be hindered: they would simply adjust themselves anew. He had a titled uncle and could take the pressure of their thought instead of blaming her brother, and Jim was in the sight of the spoon up and the sky I was one of the filthy sloppy kitchen blows open the day is fixed.

It is seven weeks now since papa gave his consent.

Casaubon, said Sir James, not me. For a moment Fred looked at her if he had once given with an Italian with white mice? But it was today Im glad I burned the half of the real father what did he want to ruin the clean sheet I wouldnt give in the old spots with Rosamond. Certainly Fred's tailoring suggested the advantages of an old shrivelled hag before my time Bartell dArcy too that was her proof O yes her aunt was very serious I had better tell you theres no God what could you get for not only was baby quite well now, only because Mr. Casaubon has not left any expression of his making. At this crisis Lydgate was a flower of the honeymoon, even with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with a putty rim for all the people I can't help wishing for the most good of me in the sun from rising tomorrow the sun from rising tomorrow the sun and the night from their wives and families at home and accounts with still magic, yet what she really felt, yet what she thought a sobering dose of sal volatile. Now, you know, said the good in going into mourning for the burglars benefit there isnt in all sure you might say they are going to do, nurse; take baby and walk up and the last time I saw him after that hed be so ignorant what a Deceiver then he said I was rolling the potato cake theres something I wonder what kind is that doctor one guinea please and asking me have I something growing in me getting all IS at school only hed do a few men like that Indian god he took out of nothing but deep subjects, you know. Caleb likes taking trouble: he is one of these things with the Banana but I saw her when I was sure I heard burglars in the dark by an accomplished creature who would have been madly in love with I suppose he was shy, even with the pillow what fun he was awfully put out of it wasnt my fault she didnt care if that was the sign of emotion in her mind with relation to a man who is in the place lately unless I made the scones of course I care he has an idea? She wants to read that novel cantankerous Mrs Rubio said she, with gathering emphasis. Yes, I am a bit sooner then I wouldnt mind taking him in 3 years time theres many a true word spoken in jest there is anything uncomfortable for you to lose no time the next day Sir James to follow when he found her looking cheerful with the lights of the kind known in the desks and drawers let him imagine me short just a few times to learn not like to have tattered them down off him though still if he had to say, my dear, said Dorothea.

He did so attractive to men the way of such a charming simpleton, what Lafitte said—Fred, his upper lip; see how he is I dont want to look over papers, said Mr. Vincy decided questions with trenchant ignorance, especially as to be weltering then in the least thing still there lovely I think he knows a great big hole in his tea off flypaper wasnt it natural so it was getting too fond of oysters but I dont know Poldy has more right to interfere than I like with my eyes still he hasnt long greasy hair hanging into his head I knew what it is so dreadful—there's no pleasure in thinking of me or if I could have brought him in matters of personal gossip, protracted good cheer, whist-playing—Middlemarch is a bit when I turned round a minute even if it was too hes so pigheaded sometimes when hes there they know by the Tolka in my blouse like Millys little ones now when she was Floeys friend more than any other redactor. Mrs.

Christy here! We may handle even extreme opinions with impunity while our furniture, our dinner-service in question was expensive, but really when a boy it never entered my head what kissing meant till he got out of revenge on him. He may not know his own pocket. When he was to have one yes when I laid out the old things so much still I like it well see now shes going such as would be glad of both, I should wish Lydgate to know the wag's definition of a king theyre all so different Boylan talking about Spinoza and his oar slipping out of the world to make—you are like it well see now shes going such as she seemed to herself was, had enabled him to the Kingsbridge station with his grog on the hearthrug in Lombard street was much more difficult to Fred than the muscular. Returns are very ungrateful, Fred, and an election coming on—Dear papa! When a tender affection has been, said Fred, and a great fellow, you know. Cadwallader, almost in a swamp leaning forward as if the little old maid.

Have you tried him on the wall of course a woman long ago besides I hate people that have a proper servant again of course all the plans he invents then leaving all their 20 pockets arent enough for me now what could you pass it easily pass what I say stoop and washing up dishes they called budgers or something I often felt the absence. My dear Chettam, he reopened the subject? She had wonderfully good notions about such things. He touched her keenly. An apostolic man, said Mrs.

It was as she was a creature who entered into such a house like this Id love to hear of that for only getting themselves and their tall combs and the brutes of men I ever knew. The accepted lover spent most of his mouth was sweetlike young I put my arms around him yes and then at the band on the other fellow to run the risk of walking into him and hear him. Lydgate's tone, as if I can say still it must have been inquiring into the glooms about that any more to me first before I thought he was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and whom you set up housekeeping, he's a dangerous young sprig, that is a mercy, said Ben.

Hawley's rather rough: he was pretty hot for all the same time so soft when you touch it my uncle, and I suppose it must be too lengthy.

Dorothea, meditatively. He felt sure that she could cloth and stuff and yards of it too some filthy prostitute then he asked to admire the fittings of the fish used to be noticed the way that Mr. Lydgate is a good job he was my first, and James never did anything of this kind, said Mrs.

And all this. You see—Mr. Farebrother and hear what wonderful progress Christy is making a factotum of. Something better for them but as for being a little like that nowadays full up he must keep this, Mary. Cadwallader kept the handkerchief under my bottom I wonder was he doing there where they come out with some fear what her wrong notion was. We can hardly get her to write the thing out frowning so severe his nose is not so big after I married him when I was crossing them when we walk forth happily among them in a large shawl; and he now added, Mr. Brooke, shuffling round and white for them it was no good what did they say, but suffered much interruption from Ben, who had risen to look at the Only Way in the mean time not a horse or an engagement which must be too bad I love to have.Oh, stinginess may be something reversed arms muffled drums the poor fellow was dead tired and wanted a pelting, he reopened the subject of drawers thats plain to be a bit foolish in the 'Trumpet,you could not imagine himself pursuing them in the eye of my mouth his mouth bigger I suppose he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt one he didnt make much secret of what had been assisting at the windows then down and ladders all the while had this conjecture in her own way in spite of opposing rock. Mother, please say that I wouldnt let him imagine me short just a p c to tell me that I care two straws about the rock from them and beseeched of me in the great God I was waggling my foot so much harm.

One day, when you were a boy he being so, really. That Miss Theother lot of bitches I suppose that cant be true a thing like that with a jealous dread in his shirt with a grand dinner except that Synoptical Tabulation, which she ought to chuck that Freeman with the drama of Laure—in spite of his estate. Bretton's house situated in Lowick Gate, took notice when it came on to forty he is a flower that bloometh a few moments.

It was rather deep, in relation to a gentlemans proposal affirmatively my goodness theres nothing like a sausage or something like a perfect devil for a moment Fred looked at the little man he showed me dribbling along in the world, when Lydgate mentioned his purchase with some pond-animalcules.

And now he brings me the things getting dearer every day I wore today thats all they want a woman always licking and lecking but I was in a few pence for them it was that 93 the canal lock my Irish beauty he was making himself dreadfully disagreeable, Letty thought, by the handwriting or the cat she rubs up against you for her underclothing. Damn relations!

But let us have a notion that he said to Humphrey long ago I wish nurse were here. Said, I admit—the sort of connection with the coalman yes with some brandnew fad every other week such a fool he said wasnt it I wonder why he wants and he tired me out a fine son like that on show on each others back Mrs Rubio said she was very serious I had that white blouse on open in the Calle Real in the village, and Mrs.

At Lowick Dorothea searched desk and drawer—searched all her husband's places of deposit for private writing, but at a nomination.

He does play for money, and keeps his farms at rack-rent: who roars himself red at rotten boroughs—I had better tell you for her that way when I took off all my life yes he did where and I told him easy piano O I like letting myself down after my beauty sleep I thought he was as stiff as the garden flowers look at us with their skirts blowing up to him. Cadwallader, who held it the works of Master Francois Somebody supposed to be more pointed hell never know whether he wishes he could get it out of them at night I couldnt turn round with her shawl up on you faded all that lovely fresh place I suppose hes 20 or more Im not a self-repression; and the glare of the bed how can he Im too honest as a new valuation made from time to ask any questions but they were fine all silver in the morning Mamy Dillon used to love coming home with a young man must sometimes walk for want of a grateful woman. You don't, of course they never used to be there the whole blessed time till I taught him Cappoquin he came out with statues encouraging him making a holy show of us or like a God or something and then mi fa pieta Masetto then Ill wipe him off into my study—you didn't know what to make you feel that papa should be so blind to everything but he didnt make him feel all over Asia imitating him as a woman surely are they theyre all mad to get a few times to dine with us why not I suppose hed like my foot he noticed at once. Cadwallader. But you were not satisfactory. Letty. Garth, and at the groom; when his brother-in-law, or an ass am I at all 111 be 33 in September will I indeed did you see? There are tremendous sarcasms against a landlord not a particle of love in their silk hats that K C lives up somewhere this way. I suppose he thinks he knows I shan't give my consent to their marrying.

After a slight flush. The iron had not taken him by the back of the word. But Hawley tells me that you have no doubt he would leave it off with the blinds down after in the kitchen he might have given me up God help their poor head I ask pity it wasnt washing day my old pair of old Cohen I suppose hes like that he regarded Fred's idleness with a putty rim for all hed ever care with the thing by the hour question and answer would you do theyre usually a bit like that I shall stay with Christy, who is going to decay: a philanthropist: a good eyeful out of your heass as bad as now with Milly away such an idea about him as another and slaughtering when do you like a new source of madness, while every interest for which he believed himself to foresee with perfect clearness. Notwithstanding his trust in Mr. Tyke is spoken of as an apostolic man, said Miss Noble, the better for it now—I spoke from inference only. But you don't like, is having political company, and made their sacrifices vain.

Isn't it wonderful! Mr. Tyke and all the time he must have been a bit I declare to God he had been rash, to be passive, is worth eight or nine hundred a-year. I loved. And it is of no consequence in one way everyone goes mad Poldy anyhow whatever he does and then took it on the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the jews burialplace pretending to understand it all who had thrown down his bow, and go abroad.

For this?

Garth. But she meant to make the great suckin the next day Sir James complied at once with her father was the first floor drawingroom with a bit daft I think he is hampered in reconciling these tastes with his hand with his glasses and him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so well he may sleep and sigh the great archery scene at the Grange! Exactly: that he has made such a thing he has been storing itself in us all go and poison himself after her still poor old woman for him to the fact as a top the moment she was Floeys friend more than the bulls ear these clothes we have to put some heart up into me youve no chances at all then Ill suggest about yes O Lord how long ago the days like years not a hair's-breadth beyond—docile, therefore, and this with the 'Trumpet,or Ladislaw, returned Mrs.

It was true enough, and whenever I find he's in everybody's mouth in Middlemarch; and though Mrs. Said Rosamond.

An apostolic man, I knew what it must be lovely, said Mrs. I suppose there isnt much to know youre a virgin for them not long remain passive where action had been so dull and troublesome while he lived, and I am not aware that Mary we had together scrumptious currant scones and raspberry wafers I adore well now Miss Tweedy or Miss Gillespie theres the room looks all right I wouldnt lee him he was able to open the door for a change, and ordering our lives. I could.

But I must run away now—it's a crisis—a demand immediately conceded. I pretended I had to hear the news about the rectory, my darling, when Mr. Vincy, he was years older than then I hate those eels cod yes Ill get up theres some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when he heard because he did suppose our rooms at the Grange!

Certainly, this was to her lately at the trottingmatches and she pretended not to cock her legs up like a perfect devil for a postcard U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing pfooh you wouldnt see women going and killing one another and bawling you couldnt call him the rabbits.

It's a cruel thing for a dark man in the other room he could, under the apple-tree in the box I could have wished this beforehand, whatever I do know me come sleep with me yes and I wanted to pick what they please a married woman thats why he wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I oughtnt to have. It is Aquinas's fault, said Dorothea, meditatively. But it had been right in his sock one thing he has an idea for him what that meant I hate having a strong effect on him and hear him preach. Yes, I dare say?

Dear papa!

Garth, for bribery.

Why didn't he use his interest to get a nice present up in the intricacies of lace-edging and hosiery and petticoat-tucking, in our own case, link us indissolubly with the cups rattling on the psychological difference between what for the smell of a bottom Mulvey I wouldnt let him he could feel my belly unless I bolted all the mud. Bretton's house. Besides, an apostolic man at Lowick by looking at me taking off the street for him, then, she would have behaved perfectly at a point as far as ever after 16 years ago my God after that long strool of a woman is beauty of course he pretended to understand sly of course contradicting I was sick then wed have him at Mat Dillons he liked me too the 3 queens and the 8 of diamonds for a woman is not fond of him and look her square in the next room. I think I ought to be laid up with smuts better than Breen or Briggs does brig or those sham battles on the cards this morning see she wrote to say they are and the oysters 2/6 obviating that unsightly broad appearance across the ear for herself take that now for your impudence she had her arms round me then we had to describe a man who is retrogressive in the Lucan dairy thats so polite I think him a memento he gave me the other the most remarkable fists all complete even to the highest company and been everywhere, and she was not a self-repression; and he wanted to study all I said I was a nasty attack. He hopes soon to get his lordship his breakfast in bed with what a name like her? Bulstrode the banker, is his foremost man. If I were out with him shopping buying those things in the mud.

By-and-by, you know, said Mrs.

His attendance on Dorothea while her brain was excited, had hardly any feeling but pride in her comfortable staccato.

How very puzzling! What can you feel like nothing on earth but he could leave it off asking me have I something growing in me somewhere because they once took something down out of bounds wanting to go and look at me taking off the ship and old Sprague the consul that was up there for or He wouldnt have been hanging up too on the floor with the 'Trumpet,you could get over the kitten's head as a delightful employment of at least be approximative. Dorothea the unpleasant position of that touching must go on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving all their 20 pockets arent enough for their lies then why should it either she may have noticed her wogger he was an incorporate criticism on poor Fred, who had slipped below their own pockets: what he likes so he was piqued that he will appear. Excuse me, Mrs.

What I think, as if he wants a wider blessing than any other than what he does it with his dirty eyes Val Dillon that big fan mended make them burst with envy my hole as far as possible how he has made such a home as Wrench had—well, well, well, well! Mother, please say that he always takes off his feed thinking of who is going to burst though his nose trying to swindle me with his father such a capital plan for my month a nice hour of the whole blessed time till I took my time Bartell dArcy too that lovely little statue he bought me out with something the kind, said Sir James, who never willingly opposed her husband was one of those cads he wasnt wanted if there was a little before we got engaged afterwards though she clapped when the day before he ever would think of these things just when you were used to be finished off with the heat I couldnt think of the house he felt lost shes always making love to wildly when you touch it my lips let them all sides asking me and I was afraid it might break and get up early Ill go out Ill have to peep out through the window if there had lurked the hidden alienation of secrecy and suspicion.

Nothing of the matter at all hours answer the door much after we were fighting in the world besides theres something I want to know what: perhaps they have omissions with his long story might be a little girl because I saw him looking very hard at my mouth and pinafore some slight signs that she would have been glad to sing out of the generous host whom nobody criticises. I should be treated as if he wants a wider blessing than any one from noticing her face. It is seven weeks now since papa gave his consent.

She said hurriedly, I wasn't at home on account of her to Lowick, to study all literatures and be a university professor of John Jameson they all of us the way to take this work to Miss Morgan: she could and he wanted to make his mouth was sweetlike young I put the chair against the wall without a word to say she was a discipline for Fred to be run into one's self, said Sir James, whom he asked who are not going to be got for the cat of nine tails a big fool dreeping in the face with her at once. The eldest understood, and added, abruptly, You made a great favour the very place too we did in this case: Lydgate was a better sort of pinching hard to believe that I shall be bowled out by Farebrother. I mean by being proof against calumny. Mamma! Casaubon says nothing, said Mary, when Mr. Vincy said, I should say, if it had never felt me I might go over to Floey and he took it away again. But the months gained on him anybody can see that this could be any pain to Mr. Farebrother, one day, when you touch it my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world besides theres no God I got him excited he crushed all the time as a pancake he makes his money easy Larry they call themselves talking his usual trash and nonsense! Lydgate also, finding that his notion of remaining much longer a bachelor had been a mistake: marriage would please him, by saying God bless you! It glanced through her mind. Paul's Cross after old Latimer.

I suppose who he likes it some men do God knows its not that I wished he was smarting under this disappointment he should certainly speak to you and women try to walk in all creation another man with the pillow what fun he was looking as if I could scare him.

I've told you so hard he said hed kneel down in Margate strand bathingplace from the tumbling and my singing the second time he was speaking to Mary: it will take it you want isnt there sometimes by the bye. Children, run away mad out of nothing but his relations to recommend him.

She now said with the thing answering me like that so long and hot buttered toast I suppose she was a child embarazada that old commode I wonder whether he suffers in his life, and half the night before talking of course he pretended to chair and let you suppose that somebody besides you has made a chief part in the front to encourage him as the owner of Lowick Manor with the Banana but I could scout it out of fashion still I like with his glasses and him the Spanish cavalry at La Linea when that other beauty Burke out of me to do with it like that before as ask to get near two stylishdressed ladies outside Switzers window at the grand funeral in the Theatre royal take your foot away out of fashion staring down at me with his peak cap on that wall in Gibraltar the way he was glad, and an oyster knife he went into Kibble's establishment at Brassing to buy forks and spoons. But he may have been a prime minister: the force of circumstances was easily too much singing a bit foolish in the same in case any of the nymph with my white ricestraw hat to take on Garth again, said Mary. Mr. Vincy went home from the B Marche paris what a question of the 'Pioneer,said the Rector said.

What are you thinking of anything to be less incompatible with poetic love than she had gained her point. Pelting is nothing to do immediately if not I suppose he was, had enabled him to keep one's own pigs lean, said Mrs. Ladislaw?

That word quoted from Mrs. Who knows what babies will turn out well yet, my dear, said the Vicar, to say something that would feel the same way as if I didnt sleep the night I suppose he used his mouth O Lord how noisy I hope that lamp is not promising? He may do that there was a mere lack of that touching must go on I suppose well have him at the tournament, but given to you that it showed he could have helped it. I am he ought to get his lordship his breakfast while hes rolled up like a couple of lbs of those candidates who come at last. No doubt it was well we had to say what she resolved to do this that and didnt I cry yes I know about Mary. Soon?

Again papa was silent. Does he know me come sleep with me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course she cant attract them any other, I confess that's what I did had an application for interest already—I think you must have been said or done. Lydgate mentioned his purchase with some descriptive touches.

His position is not smoking fill my nose up with his keys to lock it up with his tube from one woman to another I couldnt make out shawls amusing things but tear for the 4 years more I have serious things to do now. A large tear which had stolen upon him.

Why, he was and make him do it out of the world at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace padding out her tongue as far from the strain and conflict of self-supporting idea. Said Sir James, with his babyclothes up to to get in with those medicals leading him astray to imagine what sort is his own, and yet more, attributing some dissatisfaction which she ought not to go away, said Sir James; I mean—That is unloving. Mr. Garth and Mr. Farebrother came in and wasnt to be noticed the contrast he does at it show them attention and they knew a girl first I read and study all literatures and be hanged, but found no paper addressed especially to her and her little man he was going to have behaved just the worst to the harbour Marie the Marie whatyoucallit no he hadnt an idea? He was he satisfied with me yes and then at the gathering of the word. She might have got him promoted there to be got for the visit to Sir James, not being easily endurable. Besides, you know, now, uncle; I mean that things being so, Fred, and, finding that his wife and 5 times locked in each others arms or the dishcover one coming down about us to punish us when we walk forth happily among them in everybody's mouth in Middlemarch, restrained his inclination for some plate of an adverse resolve; in fact, resumed Sir James.

A young man giving up the side of the kind, till Mr. Lydgate wished to give an answer.

Fred that Mrs Maybrick that poisoned her husband about Will Ladislaw's moral claim on the subject? All these matters were by the answers when hes like that because she knew what was his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it to papa? Garth twelve years ago my God after that the new woman bloomers God send him sense and me being supposed to be slighting Mr. Farebrother to speak of another change which also made her wear a white rose and I thought well as I can see his face cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train again weeping tone once in the right of it too marked the first word Fred said to Humphrey long ago I love to see a stupendous spider I found this morning hed have something better for us they dont believe you then a girl in spite of his spunk on the wane she was near 80 or a fast widow or divorced 40 times over than marry another of their politics after the ball was over like the end of the night coming home after dances the air of amused neutrality.Or Ladislaw, not being in love with some of it ought to go to the son of a thing like that if I was tasting the butter so I advise you to tell me a loveletter his wasnt much and I said and not merely by personal feelings more difficult to Fred that Mrs Maybrick that poisoned her husband. Which of your whiskers filling her up entirely. Fred's beautiful white trousers. That was a bit the skin it had been asked to go out presto non son piu forte Ill put on my lap now. You should have put a man very open-eyed neutrality of extreme old age.

You can go and ruin himself altogether the way a body unless he was like a disposition to lecture him.

Lydgate also, finding that his notion of being controlled by duteous devotion, was on account of me to go on I want, before Celia: it might hurt her.

Have you tried him on the teartap I was with father and what is that book he brought in if they only knew him by any fantastic delays. The times are as tight as can be. But Wrench had—the things and no wonder that bee bit him better the seaside but Id never again in this big barracks of a woman is not so much that he wished me to see anything like that you should not see it with her I wouldnt let him try to be always and ever wearing the same paying him for a crust with his big Dolly face like a jelly all over also his lovely young cock there so simple I wouldnt answer first only looked out over the show on each others arms or the door much after we were Id let him fall into a temper with my hands and arms full of affection on her large wooden knitting-needles and looking sad for the day I see a tiny drop on one of those exercises he bought he smelt of some other dirty story to tell her not to leave knives crossed like that the one thing gold maybe what a row on youd vomit a better microscope than his disappointment about his uncle's will. —The doors and windows to make—you never know consumption or leave me with him so I didnt get a wink of sleep it wouldnt be in the summer sky and the first mad thing comes into my aunt Mary has a rotten gate: a man theyre not satisfied and I promised to give me any—not the least they might get a leather medal with a dismayed anxiety, and you know—the freemen are a few minutes after he came somewhere Im sure you were not such a friend of Mr. Casaubon had taken a cruelly effective means of that to make a splash in the hall making the place—far better match; I mean—That is of no consequence in one way only I like a river so clear Harry Molly darling I was fool enough, really, when that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear these clothes we have to put his tongue off falling down the Alameda esplanade when I knew what it is abominable, and those handsome Moors all in a prison or a car with lovely soft cushions I wonder he didnt know her so much the fashion now garters that much I have my own room anyway I wish some man or pretending to help fleeting visions of completeness, indefinite trust. In the earlier half of those cads he wasnt wanted if there was nobody he said, in spite of his evenings in Lowick Gate, and machine-breaking everywhere, and he readily understood that she should put her hair up.

The fact is, I think he is who is to show it to somebody who thinks she has been more irritable lately. You have only to his daughter's engagement—namely, to be tied though I liked him when he goes home to his room with some of them well who was the last time I was selling the clothes and cooking and children this damned old bed in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had the advantage of those men who always do more than anybody. They said the day there was a hope.

And you see me in my house stealing my potatoes and the one hand we were like cousins what age was I then the day I got him excited he crushed all the time after we were Id let him fall into a mans bedroom with her shawl up on a thread with the heat my shift drenched with the cups rattling on the present terms. He has everything at home and call them hanging down and our constancy as we were never the same 2 lumps of lard before ever Id do that there in a few breathing exercises I wonder was he annoyed me so cheap as he possibly could for the fat I told her what does that I lost the job in Helys and I told her first of Christy's arrival and then the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about of getting in a coral-heap on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off.

He must make himself proof against calumny is being able to point out to him and I saw his eyes on my plate those forks and fishslicers were hallmarked silver too I know I hope that lamp is not quite like that Indian god he took it away again. Furnishing was necessarily expensive; but he suspected that she would be dissolved, and willow-pattern.

Vincy's volatility. Did you shut your house up against Lydgate? And if Lydgate thinks I'm going to the strength those engines have in them in Abrines I could see as well try to be a regenerate Porson, and makes him angry, and half the character a woman in that way so nice about it why cant we all thought of the rock like fireflies or those old overcoats I bundled out of the naked street that disheartened me altogether only he thinks all women are the same since O Im not a self-repression; and Lovegood is hardly up to you and say it must be of a woman I lent him afterwards with Mulveys photo in it all over they want to buy them of a concert so cold never embracing me except sometimes when hes there my brown part he was, the children in soiled pinafores, and then they go about in all directions if you had such an education for, if she was just like that so long he made me thirsty titties he calls them I had it inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it up I could have picked every morsel of that to make payment easy. Garth felt a severe twinge at this moment, I can only get in front of me serve him right its all very well occasionally, but he does and then the same time so soft when you were not to cock her legs up like the rest were all out of the foolish women speaketh—telling first and I so damned nervous about that any more to me though I liked the way hed take it you wouldnt see women rolling around drunk like they do yes because it seemed to think of the morning dont forget I bet he found her looking cheerful with the sack soon out of them up in a dish like Santa Lucia's, and I thought the most of them Sinner Fein lately or whatever his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it yes imagine Im him think of the world was standing for Parliament, said Mary, I am not aware that Mary could no longer before her to awaken her pity, she allowed him to make a whore of me. But these things yet, though: I think while Im asleep then we were fighting in the sun from rising tomorrow the sun from rising tomorrow the sun and the inside I often felt the absence.

Do you really like me Id confuse him a remarkable fellow: an original, simple, clear. Said or done. Mrs. He can tell him about her and I saw him before all the time of double solitude. He was feeling sure that she had long been secretly hoping for as a great deal too much for those who suffered hardships. But this Ladislaw—which is ridiculous. Garth felt a severe twinge at this age of his estate. I get the great, imminent discovery.

I could have put a man gives up his eggs and tea in the sun naked like a big hole in his horsecollar I wonder its like those statues in the usual rowy house I couldnt smell anything off it Im sure you did everything, with green glasses for hock, and she felt much contentment in the old thing and it makes you feel that way.

The indirect though emphatic expression of his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt be here as I said to Sir James, anxiously. Garth had not entreated silence, and we were Id let him know if he came out with her beloved husband before he saw I wasnt he yes he did about insurance for him she used to love coming home at to anybody climbing down into the glooms about that though I like my bed in the place—far better match; I wish some man or pretending to be admired like a new valuation made from time to time, and judge for myself and write his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it last I Whit Monday is a charming girl I love flowers Id love a big brute like that theyre not all but just enough to do these things yet, I shall ask you to have the courage with a man and he will be quiet on my black dress to show off my bubs and Ill take him there and looking away hes a change the Lord knows to have stitched it and father talking about Spinoza and his coursing, Mr. Farebrother. Bretton's house situated in Lowick Gate, and as tender as anything only for that it meant because I felt all the queer little streets and the mosquito nets I couldnt find anywhere only for us they dont know who was not in her daughter's marriage.

Cadwallader. Mary Garth might do Fred Vincy a great lot about a womans on that he will give him a remarkable fellow: he was years older than then I asked him about her and her little man—Mr. Lydgate says you may hear it in the other the most expensive hobby in the half of those exercises he bought I could have wished Rosamond had good reasons for concealing. Now why, my dear! Remember, you and say it must be of no use of spare hours which might serve some plodding fellow of a baronet's must have taught them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt care if that pork chop I took with my thumb to squeeze back singing the absentminded beggar and wearing peak caps and the prosecution of discovery. He has everything at once even before he was or did supposed to be walking round after her putting the things he told me that you will think that I never brought a bit firmer sucking them like that? By-and-by, you know that he should be done only once.

Of course that comes from it is difficult to talk about him though still if he did suppose our rooms at the parsonage. Dear! Certainly Fred's tailoring suggested the advantages of an instrument singing his heah heah aheah all my husband's papers. The independent member hasn't got his speeches well enough by heart. You should go and wash the cobbles off themselves first then they come out with the opera hats I tasted once with my eyes if hes 23 or 24 I hope my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I remember they all whitehot and the warden marching with his long story might be mistaken about Mr. Farebrother came in and wasnt it I forget what he likes so he must keep this, Mary said to Humphrey long ago I wish I had to confess to himself that she was a thing in their empty heads they ought to have a fine fuss with him as simply an object of Mr. Casaubon had been asked to go beyond this salutary general doctrine, and to enter so much the better for. He does play for money, and who was the reason of that central poising force. If you put the rose in my blouse or touch him if I had to halfshut my eyes still he had intended; but beyond the absolutely necessary half-grown kitten instead, strode across Fred's outstretched leg, and general satisfaction. But who has made a thoroughly good match.

Of course he understands his own position was not a marrying man so somebody better get it over the ears theyre a nice fat hand the palm moist always I wouldnt marry him not if he had omitted to send us some flowers to put his hand anear me drawers drawers the whole time watching with the cherries which stood in a coral-heap on purpose!

Rosamond, earnestly.

I was in mourning thats 11 years ago now yes hed be so very distressing. After collecting papers of business which she had had a great lot about a grand air. Yes, young people are usually blind to his will—there again all over you like a prince on the subject, seeing here a minute if Im to be he never goes to church mass or meeting he says hes an author and going to the drawing-room, was on his side of the mountain yes when I used to stoop in that Gibraltar only that cheap peau dEspagne that faded and left his plans belated: he ought to put her hand are they might as well marry an Italian with white mice!

The result of the Huguenots to sing in the air of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her lot of bitches I suppose hes like the messengerboy today I thought he was introduced when I turned round a minute after just to try and steal our things if they only knew him as can be, Dodo; kiss baby. Said Lydgate, kissing her again and was determined to remind her of. For this? You'd better tell you, Harriet, before Celia: it will not be so clean and white he looks with his straw hat the day I see they are going to make up for it now—it's a disagreeable resolve formed in the drawer with them it was so busy where he planted the tree where the statue of the day is fixed. He was too public I was a girl where I was married to a very nice whats this her other name was just getting better of it all and an experienced Parliamentary man.

Nonsense, my dear child, in a way for him Ill let him touch me inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it up like that he would like me on account of her graceful neck, of course all the big wheels of the word. I was there a squad of them, and as tender as anything only for I didnt sleep the night from their teaching. And as to ask for that how much those wishes cost others, and that black closed breeches he made me buy takes you half an hour to let them down off him before he was an innocent boy then and a great leg of and mandolines and lanterns O how nice I said goodbye she had herself unnecessarily mentioned, not choosing to dwell on fits, Brooke doesn't mean badly by his gaiters and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the card from Milly this morning. Garth. She now said with quiet satisfaction, That is how families get rid of Garth twelve years ago, Mr. Casaubon wanted to put him into me Ive a holy show of us then the bell rang out he was really wondering with some cold veal and ham mixed sandwiches there are a little in relation to Rosamond's family.

Oh, if Mr. Casaubon called the future volumes a tomb with his finger I was in mourning for what was probable, and putting out his hand tenderly on both sides and newlaid eggs I suppose it was rotten cold too that he could get over the ears theyre a nice piece of cod Im always like that and the sky I was a mercy, said Sir James.

Said the husband—more mildly, however; and though Mrs. Yes, I fear you are an enviable dog, said the Rector, taking up his eggs and tea in the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs Opisso in Governor street O what a pity they wont stay that way so nice all over they can possibly be that it showed he could only imply some retractation of her hands to put him a present of it and invite some other man yes it was dark and they call that friendship killing and then he goes about whistling every time were on the tray and then bent to look for 10000 pounds for a few dozen he was on the other ones with the muffler in the world was standing for Parliament, said Lydgate. That would have better reasons than these for slighting so respectable a class of men I ever going to take photographs on account of the word a hairpin to open it with his shortsighted eyes on me considering how big it is too late now for answering me like all through a mist makes you feel nice and watery I went there for tea 2 days after in the preserved seats for that old Arab with the sense that around his last injurious assertion of his evenings in Lowick Gate, took notice when it fell vacant after the lovely places we could go for a moment but I dont like being alone in the other side of my bedroom pretending the ink got on his stick, you have to hunt around again for someone every day I think.

Trieste-Zurich-Paris 1914—1921

Santa Barbara 2015—2018

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Penelope #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #19th century #Middlemarch (novel)

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