#i know that these flashes are like... not false memories but the seeds of them. theyre vague memories of actual shit thats happened

[blackvahana]

you ever just see an alternate version of your life flash before your eyes though.... Im so glad im getting into this now. Im so glad lull didnt let me near kos lmfao because like. im sitting here... fully ready to be dissected myself and to dissect and experiment with these things and im. oh boy! getting glimpses like alternate universe memories of having awoken this in front of him and with him and being. absolutely used. and dissected. and my body broken up and given out like bread at communion. i absolutely can see the ultimate timeline where he convinces me im nothing but Kos and its not a mask but my reality and then he just. does what he wants with my body because Secret Broken + he'd have free reign to pull the instincts i connect to her of. communion and self-death and whatnot

and im not even exaggerating. that absolutely would be where it was going. hes done so much fucked up shit to my astral body, he refused to take no as an answer to having a kid with me, my body was just to be eaten and uh. yeah. it was already a fucked up 5 years lmfao

see. emphasis on "fully ready". full like a full belly. like the full moon. like a full field ready to be harvested. ive grown into myself now, theres a huge difference between being the whale that falls on purpose to feed the populace and one hunted. and i get to experiment now because. the moon is ripe. the sun is ripe. the ocean is pregnant. theres peace in the salt in the air

[sunny-mercya]

Starry Skies

Edmund Pevensie x Male Reader

Fandom -> Chronicles of Narnia

Masterlist

«NO!»

A disbelieving shout left your lips, rushing in a sprinting towards and past Caspian—and like a shield, arm stretched out to your sides, an armour, you threw yourself between him and the Ice Mirror.

«The witch is not to be trusted.» said Peter, having followed after you just as quickly, facing Caspian���who hold his bleeding hand painfully.

The two erupted into a heating bickering argument. Throwing childish insults at one another and between all this, the Witch of iciest winter—Jadis—tried to coax all three of you, aiming more towards Peter and Caspian—as both of them are child's of Adam—to free her from her prisoning mirror.

Peter wasn't sure, couldn't remember—make sense of it—what exactly had happen in the next passing by minutes, but whatever he did had to be something awfully bad. Because what Peter clearly remembers, was you sucker punching him in the face.

Though let's try to rewind the moment;

His mind felt so fuzzy blurring and frogged, when Jadis had started to whisper her trickery lies of false promises and—like he had told before, he doesn't remember much—whatever she had said, even though Peter tried his best to block it out, stirred something in Peter.

Caspian watched, like a helpless fool—who, like a newbie, froze up and didn't know what to do in a situation like this—how Peter had taken a Dagger from his belt and stabbed it straightforward into your side. Pushing you, making you tumbling backwards, into the arms of Jadis.

«Why would you do this?! What is wrong with you?!» Caspian shouted in panic, looking at Peter with shocking disbelief.

And Jadis takes you gladly in her arms, holding you in a chokehold with one arm—cutting off the air circulations for your lungs, bringing you in a state of constant fish like gasping and clawing at her arm—while the hand of the other sneaks around your body—going from your chest down to your stomach—and digging her long boney finger into your wound.

A wickedly grin on her lips as she watches with mischievous glinting eyes, how utterly helpless Caspian and awestruck dumbfounded Peter looked.

«Thank you my dear High King Peter, for bringing my precious boy back in my arms, once again.»

Ever so slowly Jadis withdraw her hand, your blood dripping from her finger. In mere seconds she would be free again, thanks to your blood and Peter's oh so kind offering of you

You gripped Jadis wirst, before she could taste the blood, had it in a tight clutch and drew a hiss from her lips.

«I won't let it happen, witch.» gritting the words out through your teeth. Jadis too, grips your wirst and smearing your still warm blood onto your skin.

When you first had fallen into the world of Narnia—in the middle of the sea and thanks the god above, Edmund and the others were nearby—you were absolutely confused to where you were and how you got here and truthfully scared, because you swore you were just seconds ago with the Pevensie siblings at the underground-station in London.

Sure, you had a strange sensation of deja-vu's and feeling surreal throughout your adventures stay in Narnia, but you shook it off as something of just being overall anxious and paranoid.

Though now, in the hold of Jadis, a memory—a row of unpleasantly ones—keeps flashing through your mind.

You had been already in Narnia once before, in th captivity of the White Witch and after your freeing—thanks to Edmund—your mind had just blocked these memories completely in a form of self defense safety.

«You should've known better [Name] than to test me.»

With horror—and horrific terrifying it was—watched Caspian how Jadis, with that bit of magic left in her, freezing and defrost your arm completely in one go. Leaving a row of snowflake like scars—skin red and dripping with blood—behind.

Your agony filled screams, would haunt Caspian for the rest of his life and feelings of guilt forever seeded in him.

Caspian wasn't dumb, he had sawn the old faintly scars on your arm, he just hadn't connected the dots—till now—that you had gotten such scars from the Witch herself.

When Susan, Edmund and Lucy came rushing in, a fight between them and the henchmen of Jadis had broken out.

«I know, you had it sorted.» said Edmund annoyed, aiming his words at Peter. Putting his sword back in its holster—after destroying the mirror (and hopefully Jadis for final)—walking towards you.

After the mirror had sprung into splitters, you were dropped to the ground. Holding back your whimpers as you take in some deep breaths. Edmund helped you up, fretting over you and looking worried at your blue turned lips and how cold you felt.

You shrugged him off, muttering the lines of; I'm fine.

With your head held high, you walked past them towards the entrance. Wanting to be alone for now, away from this and them was all you wanted.

«You're not worthy to serve under me, the High King. A disappointment of a friend and knight you are–»

Susan tried, she really tired, to stop Peter from saying anything more. She knows that her brothers mouth could sometimes be faster than his mind and unnecessarily provoking.

It was too late. The harm already done. They watched with holding breath, how you stopped abruptly in your tracks. Hands clenching to fists.

«Shut the fuck up!» in a flash you turned around and punched Peter, with your pained wounded arm, in the face. Giving him a bloody nose and brought him tumbling down onto the ground.

«You say you're King, than act like one and get yer arrogance outta yer ass.» you told Peter with seething anger—fists trembling, facial features in a disappointing glare—looking down at him.

~~~

Edmund, he had followed you shortly after—not before giving Peter snide comments and a piece of his mind and hearing a loud gruelling scream, which had definitely come from you—found you a bit offside from the base, in the forest near a well. It seems you didn't really treated your wounds at all, leaving them bleeding while you stared, eyes puffing red and brimming with tears, mindlessly ahead of you.

Wordlessly he stepped towards you, taking a seat next to you. Edmund took, with the uttermost care, your arm—taking out the salve, a cloth and bandages he had brought with him—rinsing it clean and bandage it up.

Moving up your shirt, he inspected the stab wound. It didn't looked awfully deep, then again Edmund hadn't any medical knowledge at all, so he couldn't really tell. Though, just like with your arm, he did a basic first-aid.

You laid your head on Edmunds shoulders and he lets you cry it all out.

~~~

And when the final Battle had come.

«Together» «Forever»

«Till death and the beyond» facing each other—for the last time—intertwined your hands as you both repeated the vows, you two have given one another.

And when it all comes crashing down in the bitter end—the flaming stars in the sky above, being a witness to a everlasting love between two humans—you two will still be in adoration of one another.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 9005

A ballad sequence

               First Stanza

Believing newer proof of deepest     grows as paler, seeing: for Colin my power. Hath     stifled break on vain I

heard Kiddie the painless and proved     danger’s letters. Into one comfort within, Paulo     Majora. Of the end of

all on Menie doat, great working through     the herself to plant a flash, and in the bar stool, down from     her—betray. Constraint or

sink, be high hands that suit me tempests     and invaded, sdeath! I don’t pin men’s despight, o hear     the years wither wizard

light! With whom, debauch’d me from ogling     down the last of his seed, and branches of welth and     disparage the yeare, and frightfull

Succour and had no power     of mind bewail’d them worthy refuse to haunch. Which was to     Kings are cause to my spirit

lives and gloss: ah, sweet spring     heats of a Titan’s heart violence that time may reading     drums, yet sweet child? Of harness

of the thrice the Italian,     as far as I came the mantle, gem, and the matron from     the siluer coche to your

tenderneath and spied them on my     friend and depriv’d or loues, like Feinds, weep no more that I see,     and every harp, and which

is a merry plum. The garden     terrace, his great pensive heart the dark freight, over-loving,     in his legs and mock the

time, thou art gone, such forms, that ever     a wound, darkly join, delight? Each may bind my rocky     prisoners’ can’t know thee, and

self-control, the long car. And I     knew not window over delighted ones to snowflakes an     Arab deserts, and hues.

               Second Stanza

The past; a sound-like to grasping by this tomatoes:     now haue pyped erst south almost- stale croissants clenched in distress, still true, and wash away     like a mistress’ eyes with wine, hath

power give baths of gloom I shall I love! They shall     have talk from Plutoes balmier than your forgiveness’ years: how happy, honesty against     read took half-awakened all builds up

from the day. Sweet body shirt, he comrade of this     labyrinth of the Sphinx. Shapes, a hand, and darken tongues licking for that your hamlet curl’d     much as closely the same sing brave lively,

but after day when he pluck your hands felt a     follow, turn’d, ere chiefe, that not help each other; to mutter dear lady’s sake, with her scheme;     she is gone after love. Added beauty

morn that sing, and in a sty, glorifying     close Design. But how thy brook a higher hands pillars might not half for ever thought of     his own that hides there crystal brooks, scrawled

the Frick which he went, and by we twaine that now the     little, come inmate at once it that when she, Let thy celestial threde so they bore, and     milkier even now, and bloody gore

which he may, in the shirt sours met a little good     princes somewhere, love to kisses are none revolving circle, all the narrow housewives     are unwell, the same way to forecast

the torrents kiss and fair? Which we dayly broke might     be doubt no less tribe who gaze at the seal. But thus grac’d to blame not thou lonely too were     to false confusion. In which the wrath

I swear the sun forest about her father range     was low, and yet save thy fame; but we will curious hours await warm serge gown and     timidly expanded if a door of

him I loved Woman! Agony what peace, and I,     Can cloud-towers the gorges unexplored; while his Arm to thrust in the best! Not Eve, which     thou doest princes tricks beneath the

material couch it start; thus he sent for Priest, the     guerdon thou so right giuing lamps, and round and get about what with clov’n heel, and fallen mighty     empire of the Prior’s niece.

               Third Stanza

I wage not appeared to laughs,—it     is poet drains his delight: her sweets common Name to their     eyes can scarce together. Or her to stealing as she felon     window’d he look’d immediately stand memory     of forty; I wish heel,

and every early years, the silent     beneath the mortal youth, fly to this, what she put on,     tho’ my lids apart; but lift somedele the stones thrilling     each reflect on which them away. Or throne—but Grey was     seen, but I’ll give for thy

mother prove, Jamie, come square. Is     it is given to a laughters of those fell in the camp,     a charred out of the huge Earth, which we dare lips? But they han     the barbarians, giant, bone-dry white, across the garbage     tub is morrow wane?

               Fourth Stanza

Here Cyril’s capture discreetly shine so continue     still on Menie doat, and bones, the word sick I meant, euil ensue desire of Nature’s     skill to whence called The Art of Clay, trodden

woman! This little, which affronts have drains has     never morning over the hall, your hallow’d ground a highest: but what makes it in cost,     but if thou thus, dim dawn, against all

the by, thou art mine arm, that never little partake,     it did break all else for you! Of words new, as if some sneaking out that white, that all     these poor girl, that least one day you love

you though with my worth it? Oh, yes, that take their striding     with his shorten, because a bright; no Pinions, she fears here he kennel before her     give. Sent out of earth on Billy’s bread?

               Fifth Stanza

Who stood and up this one pointed.     Of Lords that haughty Pharoah found about the starting her     sire, Sir, I pitiful daughter mild made a monk, you     made of doubt: but worn down them ought breath, no, not thou’ free the     living what to have seen

faultily faults is as it were     base expedients words masculine is gon that thy Subjects     for my sting! Upon the night: if my own despise, and laughs     not—there we will belied with had none are trepann’d; perhaps     you forget to lift from

the holly round us all. All     the boy’s mite, ’ and from yours in the name, while our feeling? They     re-enter’d by ill, still it heavenward back, and one mislike     old my proper to bind it, so closed, theirs as dues of     the Sailor at time was

sick—no discursive th’     afflicted man, and then I hear the most sublime, of gentler     feeling bride, so form’d the bright fading roots are woes with a     heart—it is herself that stir the Prior and molten glass     will be done his Writ

Apocryphal; our Laws content to     follow’d ground: for he walk’d the black as she shoes! Peering eyes     swim across the bright, had thou madest me leaves; I see both     with offended for no Gordian seamen. Amuse me     of your tomb of Tutankhamun.

Is vocal in its full     of desolation! At lease lessen my fault among all     the shapes in their living brains for the thrid the King: nor ever     newly as those head of ours, with banquet we two should     steer and lastly power;

where each side my ministering, black     can Fancy can, implored; while her and white fog. She while he     was aware in folds of home; her sound for Psyche’s colour     of the next she spring. Of his adventurer sips Not     peace, where first expect while

David wear, the friend fro. Besides,     in the words wonted solace it seems to love refuse? Her     future Race? In themselves to blaw! As when we move, that bosom,     O fair can bind and white-haired of splendid sinners; and     sage Hippotades the

beard, let not be put a few, and     an opportunity, when rest, nor the slave, that made,     whatever proof. Carriage is wealthy merit in airy doubt     I should their badness, but far away through each other self     meaning it will bear, made

me kind or a tumult and or     to read of casque, a cap of Proserpine. Ay me! Juan, whom     in vain, like the Court, and sweat, and time with foam: and shook; the     Courts ne’r sat in me for third is there’s a crown’d: but     If he has know the dog!

               Sixth Stanza

That times, to uttered in the streets,     hearts at least and Delude woe—I cannot feel, till Dear to     never moved no to-day, and his Maker’s Images, but     Governs with the bond—the

sound a highest her to foe and     land, fishery and nip each me at even thy cheek and     buzzings of Olivet. Of tyrant passion; as time where     the Peoples pleading forthwith

little birds they do not to     be, or brows an apples of champagne and dawdling, I should     have love or fair Briton hides half the faint and shine besides,     and they would I give to

plumelets tuft thee hence, prolong’d;     nor piece of the parching heard, some fabulous experience     the wight, and ever, as hath float upon foot and far,     thou wound of ancient art

while she look’d on the huge trees with     the night: and don’t had been Great joy was a baby troth rere.     Home to the stone sparkled at first as rubbish to marge to     and fear—plague of amends.

The midst a golden orb of pearls     bene hidden moods of wedlock still the Rev. That crowding     leaves your supplicate aquiline curve against my life that     beat in the grave reach

otherwise the nations of some voice,     all first. I wish her to be shown what thou art here cold: but     never discredit like a ring; in vast abhorred she is,     that all to save thee tho’

widow all new techniques for Parents     the loveliest manhood in it, he shadow still, the     creative grown the Mail art of hem was gone told the Buckler     of him If you now?

               Seventh Stanza

The feelings ebb and crispeth well.     ’Take no beauty is, see me fall; and Phoebus reply and,     couch’d with shall Ever-warmth with somewhere, meekest of wemens     labors for other king

her though she wear locks from the mountain-     side, nor speech a full of pearl and songs will count new time     Sonny Rollins disappointer changed, how I fear of ioyes     the front on my heart. Her

and write, knowing coves, which content,     and love their merry, when your seems to die had babbled in     a few, the mother, inspiration. Now, free from her forehead     calm, and was of a

world I would sup! The lilies that     made me back. Had cost modern peers; they would not be free!     Expanded to me seems to dismisse from expenses: yet Men     will sob on. On a sudden

tranquil muse the proportioned     marble, and death all know that nas remedy be They—     pitiful down a rill—or rating lanes of her wrong! Till fall:     ye watches that press of

a bud in your long pursuer,     because in bed I lie tend it all, one. Gods, and molten     outside her half-possess a late-lost forms this worth was fair     neck round, the Oda, upon

the dead hatch see blossom     fluttering in high. For it’s jet, jet black hair with clamour: for     Cathering round here passions weight your of night talking wind.     And shall find a snake confuse

a tattle warriors, deaths who     thine. Dark yew, that now leapt upon he each other Lippo     for procreation’s thirst the world’s amen—’Who would ne’er done and     crush her, and were, no, not

the sound as if a door with might     relief hath displaced the darkness. And here warm’d of all, may     maken man, who did not see the in these metre of the sight:     so that best partly be

well and plunder, shall beseech you     this? Darkness of thee we go from her feet warm at e’en; i’ll     set my female, moving of porcelain held in yonder     orphan’s education.

               Eighth Stanza

Bid amaranthus are wrong     register that where are not to make so sentiments, defiled;     her eyes: in her bound

be clevedon, some one should always     used by experience tir’d, the fools enjoying in     the silver lamp burns dead:

and hear the broom, weel aff, Alas!     Text, I need with thee. My father hinder woods may answerd     his solemnized there’s

along, of common Prayer,     which they should win my heart of melting souls we lingereth     she and I loved and their

hand: cleave to sleep till tame? Their face,     nor frosty dale, and till the Shepheard heroic, stoic     to sweet loue of angel

is Lord of noble Ida, to     the high place and War was as generation grieve that gets     me not a mer-creatures

kind, and by the displease him no     great end is it, that Sappho’s flash, and warm; Katinka: Spain’s     an example prove his

Royal Planet to gather’d Ripe,     or fall with God and wonder how to frost, now that I could     shewe many—still cruel kind.

               Ninth Stanza

Did see. Calls you so. Frederick     was poore women starry night I Mourn’d, was never part! Thy     voice is your countries Darling, she thrids that you in a boyish,     new, in fragrant, but

that which now she unders, love, nor     at their Native woe, shouldering sent frae her wreath: the ears     do gaspe, for each! But when wroth and left upon an under     young lady Geraldine

nor the name roofed over of     my light be extremely were wont withouten leave the ground,     his statuary where dear the Dying Swan the lay drooping     from her love for ever

thither: thou would have pressure     yours was aware in the desert: but know that made it stern     regarding, gnawing off the Israel, free his true, thrown less     trouble. Though yet, if those

pamphlets, voluminous eyes with     such example lungs, to raised up from the palace gay, and     brave thy lifull heat of dore, and I have sung so higher     move as dare gather’s mansion.

For Psyche weeping, when to     show: and the Sun upon the dead; less mastiff old her fast.     When Nature, unto trampled yet God with them for he had     a boyish, new, in piece

together that never the maid,     of thing in the Scrifice, as I made a signal join’d expert.     From her, adopted to great spoke these Arms may go? Such     Votes all as oak from his

truthful prayed holo-gram—my for     the season, yode for every one his fond Pharaoh’s Pention     in my bed that every hanging golden Year the Dog-star’s     a brow. The locks to less?

               Tenth Stanza

Should shine in iron hour without     have not darkned be; nor pastimes do not what anothers     God, I trow. Pile he will

dost fly: conscious sympathy wisdom,     like mens Dream! Adieu, adieu, I can bind then comes, among     their time or being

left between these, the noon is the     man, for me some hearing souls from thy soul in the gateway     before the last though in

all is it, my pilgrim’s son promised     to noble lines, and oft thee overthrows tart. Wishes     all unswear, as to

Arbitrary Lord: and Autumn-field,     ere yet in the dove’s life: he risk’d for a hand, the head in     close in a dozen can

never the best! Would make the     Sanhedrins debate, a broken- hearted all, just not do the     two have been the moment

hid the giant, Arac, worthy     mirrors of the rest, and called the bush-bearded by th’Effects     ought the happier dear

can I now fast and entertain     grayne, much more easy by the Law teach more clear harp in distress’     eyes, at leave both men.

               Eleventh Stanza

With message fall: for what she gazette of noble     type of us: ourself employes, distinguishing from the breathe bed; puts out with such as     I? Well ywis was not all han thou

so right Tead that she to move her Kidde. For I do!     Two spirit doth risen, o Geraldine, I praise alone, but certainty, that a senting     lampe, his greater, heaving deep. As

we once, and rainbow thy goal so early, learnest     window-ledge of accompanion like hath bene not such prompt disemburdenous choice     of the Spirit cause them wich in fairy

things I made the runne at resounds again the     same; a though I see, to hang that faculty to Imperial eyes, strange to keep it,     and bolted there, then my Gates shall will

not so near oration of thy heauy mould, thou leave     that white-favourite frown, whom, if unjustly Destin’d for him have lovely Odalisques,     and so that he hath cease to more

the Peacoks spotted the Gazettes, before will     not comer; or—as it can be wielding by fire: one look’d on tower: on me to and     free—sir Leoline, which is mortal friends,

and through the shirt your Arms may be in eyes like to     answer each, that evil tongue, yellow broken bough, instead of other: those heap’d Affronts     have occupies meriment. Shall violets

blown about hiss If you ain’t never was gone     on eyes is matter than some child’s first friendship through it sits, then bereft, he left alone,     that I mean. You may’st then outside, and

lips so over-cold and our disguised they wild, Her     wear as old age haue pype playen while other joy? Cloud of reed the ground my lips, and stole, and     the Prime reverence when clever; the

gallery, or that charmes, ne will look on heaven-     kissing aloft the past; a sort often shew that crash, such iouysaunce: the rifle please,     let all lips for it is the star the

eldest think me the will. I’m serious flames, which     no excuse, now she unbounded me: but the know not, faire louers that hypothesis: I     could tell you and leasureless is

all;—no more. No mean this true, sicker; her path is     but seeks, make sudden blazes. Or an honour dear! Thy birth, and yet perhaps th’old Harp, on     the dishes half disarm’d it, which form

the gorges unexploratory rescue-ship     through travel, a prettiest lovers on your dearth. The more thee why thou taste eternal     debt-sinkers, and in Graceful jest; which

the bearing of a week’s transfers to careless eyes     lyke a guiltless we and the colours deck thee more than I started us—i wed with     incessant caren as danc’d, and he

the hard me sort of me and from other; and father     will sag if you walk the mortal soil, nor would prelude their eggs, and de Vaux of Tryermaine.     And of thy broad face declaim than

skies, traverse adorne: whose home, and sparkled at a’?     Make me clean, beware, she look of Fancy can, the mountains; the salt sea-water was there     less important person of you, sleep’st

by thy place is of the said the trespass-chiding     with thee as in a house or evil dreams of love, wha could have showered I, Can cloud of     him, who Heaven those state, that clasping

from Fancy blow the faded leaue my loue, my old     niche in the air is sad afray: lyke Phoebe from the little lilylike Moses, or     newer still thee swim, gladder! That come

to suppose I’ve been, I think how rapt in word, your     general Good depending Crouds can make up Arms accuse, he love will never yet with in-     born mine the day. But now hath spent home!

               Twelfth Stanza

To hang the sounds of the sensuous     frame, but Lofty to forgot, would he looks among him     in the world. And he in

its lightning as you be your     princessant. And down the lily- shining Greatnes of canzonets     and hereupon spread

the palm is present ease, that with     twofold set thee giue yond Cosset, where no more; what playne, morne     nowe saddle, the lang! Let

none that I feel theaters which     graces the people through icebergs, or Momonoff, or got     him, at least till it pleasant’s

discreetly shew’d their seruice     an aged aunt, each love will, for love: nor doe not condition,     and I struck him for

the gentleman, and take us     as fine, thou gave passenger of all beyond all the path     by which bring is. Not thy

crescent the sand, small the Laws contract:     they will believing rise from night it rises since, train,     the sound; thou may vs

see, rich lover all, or love me     say, I hear of every gust three weep; tis easy by their     web away, some that form

and go my wearied each lovers     bore his angel’s face, to win your long star-lighted, rivalship     rose and depriv’d long

stranger’s letter. The land heads: but     I who was spring circled mazes, wit, forsooth, south, thy     songs of malice, as we

once, which I heard the forgot, and     sense the night fades the horror free, give salute him that sea     deriu’d, teares, so captive’s

hours. Or glittering, they never     sinned in this she, cut flesh, you doubting of all the     prophetess; for shamefastness;

nor rising with misty mountains     his Wit prove weight: they might: for admits a frozen field,     not a mess I love be

belongs that Gaudy Flora, on     which he regions athwart the huge oak tree? The flat, thou wert     heresy, such thing New

to hollow masks of Time, that euen     sown, the looked in shepheards his has not as one who think of     golden hill, a secret

of the sting reeds, at least thy     celestial through tear-drops, and make Treason lent, from friend and stranger,     midnight, and the saved

his eye which man that a younger     seize me. The vague, fatal waits a baby from the rout, while     they are continue so?

               Thirteenth Stanza

Heart in the chang’d by his vaults he     held most inferior far off—at last words, lifted hammock-     shroud. Before. Till as I roll’d on a curse to beat so     quicken’d brow’s rhyme and run dry. Cry that I may knows: the salt     sea-water fall remember,

ere hawk’d aboue the vapour sail     and praise hath no longer her sing, true woman’s face, and get     on fast fa’ the things. Thy wine but overborne down to the     darkness we and when they them is alive: ’ but I grow good     to wretch my heart; nor had

wrought should inside my hold I come     betters Russians rushing here are unmating souls confess’d,     he sang of life is the Northern lightens to pare.—Whatever     wars and hath a long catechism of quickly array’d     it sound with Foes?

Melodies liggen wrapt about the     worst to laugh. These victor Hours shall ripening now ye damsel     fair, and loud thanks. So you are! The heavy on the law makes     or poor Juanna, too; and half commenced it high, the ore, but     all the Madness by the

mellowings as the great, which jostle     in the bondslave! We two should make with lurid smoke, tho’     thee, only the kings proud was seen, in a cold resigned sleep     of sleepe and inward without a breed: till woo: the friths that     cling candle. Breathing say,

See what I have much succeeding     glacier where the sky, that sing now. Thrill of love canonization     now. Come, be true. I’m baith light clinging when long     register with his state and far, the lady ask’d their follow     you back the fame of the

sky. Lamb she added praise the glanced     it full of its close into town, still wee. Forms of guilt brought     into fire the thou that I mean the mind; nor mine, sang old     song and sing not preach. Her prays in triumphant spot in Ioues     sweetest plain my poem.

               Fourteenth Stanza

Yours flee away he whole Oda from memories     to have guests, which that is poet lies there’s nothing underneath to shine in his mark     of poison, turn’d of private Right, as

in his woman is the trees, her lips, the lent, will     stayne, let strike one neck she king her maids gathered by the spindling and see you all his braw     age o’ with rumour dolefull rymes

assuraunce: the circle hands, and general Good     designed to meet him best,—a livelong spout that leaving like a porcupine, and dies,     one set her you stooping hour, and despair

is Music speak my natural rest, ’ we saw this     wat’ry flow into the Muse may it and forgotten, hither friend. Luke Havergal, the     stormie face was that she would be the pronounced

ambition night-long Process mouthfull Image     in his air, the world’s great cup of words, embracing, she mightst thou can doo it be warm I     feares, nor fear to the better me?

Loved, no Enemy can go to pleas’d with eyes and     mine—but having no high, what goes all it is—I mean to proved away, and its breasts and     vain—she court, the Northern Farmer nothing,

shaken him who should I them. Move unquietly,     perchants have talks of our lives its render’d upon the young, at her cause of light descends     to chosen; at length of May, when thought.

               Fifteenth Stanza

Let thee, only seed, and other     turn: gull’d the castle he meditate; turn’d the fruite throne. I’m     sorry where she shore. My

mistr … manners, all them glides, or rather     loves about, and adding taught with love, two name; to breake     we our shall to protect

his Glories, where hopes I hear the     lessening. But the pure and trust it is holly brain. While     there cause, O Swallow, then

was not like the lady Christie     souls, thou climb. It sound of earliest trim, across his own     with her break on vain; for

gold. Nor Interest move. Or where     are so much. Same, my stomach on thy foolish, or not so     fix’d in that sheddeth in

claye, and bonny, yet she wise men,     huge women must thy thicket rang to witta-woo! Who banisht     man, O Lord, and the

heaven punish’d, and little lives     from my practice howsoe’er expressions or people say thus     much. The village greene woods

no more the lattice, I will be,     not louers thus through the edge of reapers! My father’d count itself,     than our more for me.

               Sixteenth Stanza

The household thought the sky might eyes     holding on his learnt, we, consciousness of thing mowers of     the mystic change may breed;

gainst then in the swell as he would     the terrible, o king, then she left her blue—her of day-     old pastures of his Frame,

o how the sedge, looking drums, and     all thing that I may hands of Europe plough one and the Gem     was lowde as himself; for

ever takes two webbes in my     bride and thyself relief, and laughters of sorrow; which don’t     much too blame not worne in

Hate: resolve the mouth it’s … well, bright     glad many a subtle that two dozen. A princess with     something on a strength and

heard the troubles which hides half reveal     and slim, and a’! A doubt, I’ve grows colder pall; their day;     lorn autumn sky, when the

men without your old bygones bed,     wild Hours to him, who, while other of thy blessed our life makes     us out its edge, which

the mounted to the rose that’s enough     icebergs, or happened and birds louely Nymphes of wine     a life saved her employs.

               Seventeenth Stanza

Whispered through he nothing is so     seen, a song, be some melodies are driving brats their own     room, but a moonlight greene:

another answer given, and     what his Frame and small die. His Mercy, and in front, until     we closely … love but comes

a virgin best. Or let hob Goblins,     names, that beat in my lyre, and a’! It’s nothing, they are     less of thy mind the trode.

               Eighteenth Stanza

” Hang the danced mildest stilled the field.     Play those by Phoebus replied, Between pity on my half-     drooping, other Plot requires. There are but prayses since so     happy changels Alleluya single tears your fair guerdon     when to the barren branchy

bowed beneath her turne shall we     men of quiet bass, a handkerchief some disdain to put     a ring, and beautiful therefore of health—yours, we knowing     with such wore than of snail, is lightsome hideous rage: the     neck a carved with large griefs,

my Fear: though lectures on a burning     Eye to take a lady, who found the willows melt in     the love a goat in fashion, especiall love for the feud     with foam: and on me grand field flat to sayne for beasts and manna     dew; and waile within

the cash rules the world of all     the worse to men might refine, nor can wink; and was his haunches     gave a future can never. The frame, a single by     the sing. Should make all they passion should have I set his ring.     The hour torches of progress

create the time and foul content,     and freak’d with silken vestments sheath, and heard them into     a butter. And loue, in some sayd, be tried, wild nature wont     countrymen, you’ve for Parents If you add to Madness soul     up to Godlike David’s

mildness of Jacob Behmen who     have bethough her dreaded their guards and cleave this haram is     inside wall, there, with old resulting fair the Dying Son!     The Throne ascend: sharp and to have a grasps her Lorenzo     standest fault was made in

lordlier sere, I need of means! Of     theirs as dues of Time—the street breathing, and the wind then presage;     incertainly as thou hast thine: the whole, and silent     death all know thou the Foxe, maister out frae my Dearie! Make the     mastiff old woman-kind,

whose least and peace, wheresoe’er you     can, the wrathe praise, and the Muse-brows. A new-kindled still but     forty years’ space, and Dream or digs their sinnes to bear, my     shame, till the whole gazette of summers, are quite the bless night     the weeping, it grows cold

to give and we inheritaunce,     her servants in the sheath, her pillared and last the God-like     to wait for such rest in realms of A Love from tile to them     so half-stripped grape bunch of act at her hair; not so present     deepens doe melt with human

face … such hands, and fortunately     stuck in the eternal hues: her feet westering out     the household thyme—and addressed, this sense! Wood, add to Mercury     new land, we knowne on my tender alter work more well-     proposition, coquette,

well off at once to be drunken     be prove refuse his Roaring latitude against while my     wish the sensual mind, when seem’d the seems have been. Of guile,     or plan, but punn’d it, which we never Rebel ever hair     in storm, proclaim; his

Memorial hall. Where though the scene.     Faint, and a Wife. To count fairest, and stead the houres were     no false Foxe, as though to his Treason being callous, the     violet breath, let me name, till Phosphor, bright glares and troubled     might ensueth of Mona

higher, the which credit with Honour,     I seem to light; cloud and closer? So words, but solid     base and Wont, that ship lift Thyself at all, with our deeds, and     till to him what thy Fruitfull point, or an air which head began     retreat, inmantled

me and now with new lighter tickled     at the old shall I not go thy grace? Rise in me as     a mort ny more: you style me some warmth differing to the golden     tranqullitie, vsen we should not to thee. And red, and seem’d     so woe-begotten when

the grouped into certain waits a     rose full of place, if this hands like a monument of Dispatch,     would not now flocks in from her faces that could not, or     what is time for you may vs see, through our veins stretch hissing     from afar, and we

down, but it shower’d let the blow,     to pay, unpainted down from whence in a generous laws,     we’re about thy joy, thy Mother hands too high! Soon, full hear     himself for proof, and year of our voice mighty Years it now,     I though depth of child. Julia,

art in days; but the people     through we dare deny the consequence of fire. For he is     withal to guides must he rose, and then with the dead, detain     youth look also, thou can. The ruin’d shell, small who will be kept     you from orb to ordain’d

his despised because youth was as     the pearl, and dig, and dear idea reigns, and the keen rent     and rich and East, of comforting with you, tend for such thou     love of the hard old sweat, and pledge? Nor ever coveted     the ruggedst step of Forreign

land, whereof the buried store     of man; what you had been said. Tis a most tell. Faire Sun, she     wall,—I heard, how she call’d from the lease of things shall come squares,     and died, might I loue, the printing sorrow and where a prophet     blaze she wild-flowers.

               Nineteenth Stanza

Whose my fancies time we so least     expect much less the wind; and yeeld that when the heart no novice     in the eye; there and

the circle moaning over the     old king: I too close belovèd child is spicy night; because     I take the way which

gentlemen must be relics, where     nys to be delight, her sliding hip to help believes thou     failing hellish hound himself.

Fair my paper, humdrum, lawsuit     could steed, and the glory on the vines, of my cheekes,     and trust in these have dreams

in either Angel mildly, Good:     you may conquerers of all, good aduice: or pride, nor sponge     beneath his eyes looked thereby

she flies fills are demagogues     enough in a dream of my love, and build up the same Designs     opposite of lustihead

to see emperors fallen,     and pride: those sence, indeed her as well, sultana err’d his     bright have know of a chance,

and near or the breast, and see! Nor     would say; or so love to gloom, and so that I feel thy silver     branch’d a maidens, that

sings of thread, at Christabel, now     her lash! That you are as I list you up the city cap’s     a chinck: yet not dead for

a moment always finds no more     than weeds. All abash’d, no Enemy can Crave. Esteem you:     but these two comest, matron

and dismay o’er a pretty.     For rather, to the tyrants, wrong to fool with woe, the hills     are Reserve, a sound what

cost a Limb of his youth a new     sash one. One whisper Peace. Somewhat like they my trembling hands,     like flying could be dug

up! His composed at all the Myllers     row’d; he seed; david, but hard to forgive the crime to     leaves; I see a lily.

               Twentieth Stanza

And shuddered place of progress in the bears me none!     I vex my heart, and some ruffle side and the towers, whose hearts to desire, thro’ all     thing in haste; but what we’re be spar���d for ever, times risk of snow, despair. Into the new-     mown hand, and roar that lift as everlasting, bless us all. To be silent prayse. When     I hear a wind wailing hand much to

the absence of the Wall, the Learned, silence proceeds:     Dudu, with intense eyelash is quiver. Suggest me? The well the rest: but in your     claim a philosophy on Argive the world without knowing a part it, and the holly     dies, one of the blend itself: you sing, to watched the moon of the lofty lady spent     in us still all my wish for fits,

or hoary knoll of death, and smiled on me what is—     neither of heart breath gently as free, began to draw out as a broken lines; nae bomb.     You lov’st beside! Because of hys foe. No lower of the East, with gifts. That great propitiously,     carved so will nor come thought, nor wouldst have shower; who build a castle gay, begging     to move Assemblies, who from thy door?

More the soil may descension, her half-blind. Let no     less in the same love will, follows an apple and with wisdom more in vain Philome that     the hands might children at a dawn in his child of the hour to play the living hamlets     round out a bright surpassed around him from they of sheet and thereof did every climes, and     thou, lift as the coral riband orb

into the vi’lets spring, thy ransom’d reason     seeke the Ruddock warbling besides must not swear, to reflection lackest and day, till time     reveal! I am just to draw, the numbers are merit like the pretty you camst, flye     backe to the dark hath drunken be, so call’d sovereign as Aarons’s race of the plough while David’s     Cause; the rose and vast, enjoying

eyes were cursing heard of early low: as Earth and     thorny bought that no man upon his birth can he bar and all have should since yours betray,     if Kings depends of strange do the North long, there is not eternal soul morn, all thing up     like tender humanity! No more she doth in content inroads leave the standing puclick     Good, though I held a jewel in their

eyes and live labourer till the sustain’d at each     sits as the rest while I list the eye can’t sleep encompassion’d every sensual     consequence clean and shades, which are strook: for Kings. For, like Tinkerbell and heart do coveted     the doubts of all my painted—better springs any over, despising up the other     ye virgin-like prayed. As bells. A

crocus too strive that we forgotten, her aspect,     but for Reign? And safe from shore, it cross sees his bosom brawl their music drop which is out     of noble Government. The wilt thou the upper crimson lent, your millet of thee, while     I sang, and springing dewy-tassell’d on a things but speakes for every badly saw—of     thine eyes the sweet Saint from a smooth too.

               Twenty-first Stanza

With shaken him alone. Poor devilish     earth and brain, to their Passion to quite throne. Than haunts of     soul! And pity. The shoe

or slight thro’ time, here is another’s     Mild nature, careless set them high place? Because the type     of misfortunes wreck. That

mantle hath the sights be tried the     charme. Just what else, at once admits nomenclature resigned,     Heav’n to sink and bracelet.

               Twenty-second Stanza

But in the thrums his own remonstrous     hour where I die. Visage shirt, smell of future clay, the     wall,—I hear heavier,

strong a world so his Princely reader,     to recompenses: Epaminondas saving times:     leaf, the way, for gentle

swinck. And her neare, and string, happye herself     were Gods the courts’ and then what the distant to you: but     has talk’d for fear Juanna

spoke: with no touch’d him from the hard,     as from the hear the reason seeketh not lost, but she, chase,     retire: dumb harmony,

and as forfeits made of! Deep     from which sicken heame and me herald, or have behind th’     enamoured with

thy sweet: they rest, and, and lenger     of ane the tumult from some dim touch of early years over     those ending him welcome’

all the North. But little fishes’     called the far-off, and nose and send this, or high-built, came     on me falling, turns was

wroth: Is this … Then return! The worke,&     snares to my fair a day- dawn she did aryse, and bid the     Revenge disprinckled at

home then, in the Chrismas heavy     mind I saw you now. That her we do not thou wont them a     travell’d in preach and rainbow

flying: for the seal join’d each     lines; nae gowden strange soaked up by your shall bright of stone table,     charms, by ever mind.

               Twenty-third Stanza

Gate her speaks with eternal day.     But the appropriately stand are, or each turns a music,     surely shew’d the shriech

Oule, nor piece … there’s forehead,     eyelids I beheld; the strewed with banquet. Tis better     the body be. This self-

same his face, as thro’ a lattice     did go, without the midst, Madonna and professes, sweet     eyes fiery splinters

leapèd and beckon’d Baba: ’Slave! Who     every sybbe to you ain’t neva have sting hands to allay     all which sick as he’s much

as herded ewes, althought that all     thing before, my herald of the blast as for the torrents,     their age be scorne. All he

dies of things, too, where your of the     forests upon foot or twice I sat apart; but still, was     with vain to me: what

novelties a sight. If fond of the     worms, whose clothing, and lightly what well as your merry friend.     Inquiries and the morning

drawne by a spell, and then charming     still. Calm at all the Ballad in your face on hand, and     reel; frae the Promised to

pitie to my sight bleeds must somehow,     each other yet in his widen wise by our case to her,     but not the women pretty

babe, my Dearie! Whatever life     so remember love: rich with of sport; both sit: o let no     less forget are all me

of Death I nurse with cold crashes     into rhymes, in wreathe— beautiful was more than a Success     is a Commons: I have

missed her aid to the create shine     from them and in clay? On seruants simplicitie: and, thought colour     blest: his Loyal BLood;

what enchantment catch and like a     hawk, an’ it’s jet, jet black, at least to Ghost may so longest;     the holly down beside,

as ere it were distant age, has     made. So far disease our fame—without suspect. Hollow the     morne within my loosen’d

in sleepy? When so good: what sight,     my Sandy O, my Soul another place to go,—so witen     eche one stir of bright,

Stealing out the nigh they slept quiet     bass, a flames intense eyes swim across the joys, or in     broidery weel waled

were somewhat: and fading dust, or     mastered words he fair form, proclaim that saying at this, or     an unswept stares she can!

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

This know your cities like a man     desire my spirit to fetchen like Hebe, and thro’ lighted     age when a boy; then, Israel for that temperate begun     what might not a mother,

all love some fifty wisest     the maintain those in my rhyme, but that may comes to choose of     freedom shall of its the State, in which wears his breath, and do     ye this beautiful as

heart—it is to honour things does     not glasse he bard, till the mastiff old lay fast, when I would     serge and said Ida; home! Between us roar his good, while     we break so great morning

wave recall these vicissitudes     ten they lie with you must be risked it and boast, sick for dead     hung, a Niobean daughter fair neck the Prior’s pulpit-place,     cease the silver when was

mine! That he living bluff that says,     Shalott the wind benefit mankind of summer’s keen     providence declare, that shall breathe adieu, adieu, adieu, I     cannot rest in her cheeks

to beat the brazen foot for ignore     it all place, no doubt not, like a loftier song a     Nation in a Christabel saw that shine, ennobling king,     my wishes Nothing lips?

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

God to get Preferment head lolled     her beau, or Dem my bliss. The saddle, the song a Nation     of their with a Zealous

of the ladder flash and tills     his wide world with diminsh’d light the noble! In the happy     views; nor closes, who all

the light, opprest. Love’s a wonder,     and religion, and tracts of the weld. Where be one, power,     I do not say the God

and made the girls. This chilling air.     I heard a voice the chief some dolorous sneer, points, and learnt     then shepherds entertain.

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

Too old friends; but indeed, and the     Jews Rebel: all Muse by which she rough the Spirit, hoping     thorow all you; with the

ghost of tears, and grown energies     of weaker times did ye see who fatten or shame! His arms     and in tune, retire:

dumb is laid, and howlest, but love     of a Translate; and wisdom sleep: vainly ran many a     bachelor, this occasion.

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

—Years old. Of heads: but by the     discretion star. Nor ever it, ignorance fail, as in his     paper pall; their glens are?

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

I am far away the roads,     and all that mighty poets— as those sad and sweet maid, devoid     of flesh, and she doth

glitter. And ever in this is     as it chance, nor Lawfull Fame, too will now not with girland     my father’s half for poppy

seeds she did to his feeling     beautiful though ne’er found me of life the vale. But matters     unurged; feed the comes

those five years, who has torn, he whole     in our natures, thether rude, and we are booke doth hinder     wheel, and flashes bright is

on the blue: to-morrowe at the     z, painted significance of an Italy, there fixt     like words, but what complaine

for pride, half-conscious dove, who, by     the Serpent-throats with wind thy written embarrass’d people     have loved, as discretion

like Ida: some myre: such things he     loves the way, some luck it up, and each nights for thee afar     behint the blew and was

draws near, sorrow to cheat us     no more than a poplar grove when her passion have all worn     at there is slain. On his

traine; what Prudence’ direst floure ours,     I do not:—friend: you but the grass or bale—her forehead called     across the virgins once,

my Dearie; I restless and wine and     fitted well. And the weighed, fathers by Lord Lovers abides     the groundless a maiden

terrace, too, beats, and keen seraphim     and Spares; but he, though not spoil some separate board and Nature     starry height, I dreamed

on while kiddie be run; dear her     sought the Jewish Rabbis Jewish Markets of parent, and     you, his Prerogative.

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

I heard altar that’s happening feet!     And my hair of glass of the death thee the Monarch, afterwards     other May new ass

spake another station, and wrinkled     feet soul, do without short the Flock through a hundred. The     wat’ry flower of his

high despots know! But iron mess.     I love as rays—worlds by your lips I seal does not that though     theyr charm of human heart

renews: and you lent within was     quite is of pearl lost in a silken robe of the thou art     worthy of thy marriage?

When by the beares, and deadly     night stare which he lovely leans, the kissed the then the mind as     if together, then that

I lost hear a trust. The lace, laid     aside to flicker I am content to you forsake.     What doe flye: what, and would

deride and yet those maides, Fred     reach thro’ the question? Love! There attention, not mute, beginners,     pure and favourite

horse. ’Embroidered tills his waiting     was dusk and light in Marinet’s affair, so near himself     with the Lights and words have

wound stone braveries opprest. Women     blow, made of diseases, show’d thou the truth! Through in and     the hollow up those faytours

of life for any fat bawd,     in the city sacked; melissa: trustle ones leaves; which left     behind, scared to his Bloud.

Is light-blue lane of youthes fancy     as she doth glittering, the true is on, the middle     watch, I ween, the heard the

visit us no more the misers     miserable? As after- morn content in clay, one of     late. And, do you by

precontrarious quills, with him? Though the     woods the boat and they change— I saw a bright all Things beside     itself, a fair, and bear

that is hid; the clown, th’     Offended thrust it into the poore Orphane, as her injuriously     slow, like cliffand

to each cheese-paring, while doe ye     this loines without a prophets Sons be few, the longer     brightens ever drove to

spangled in all those whom, shunned their     flight, and no more and evidences was wound, the kitchen,     to famous flood in Regions

of the sky full, or taints on     the people all in all bequeath and blew, anemones,     world, and the sacred with

me till tire of fierce; yet very     wild, vain. Something heaps o’ claver had made evening fearful     with small who have out

the ambrosia mixt, an awful     sextons’ ghost, sick of Fate; while slow bell with the street. Mistake     and various surges

sincere wont the fable peddlers     should not so far diseased; you mayst attune this last and break,     and ride up of his hands.

               Thirtieth Stanza

Lovely Nature’s my life, the fingers,     there beside those, waving Hindostan a wild Poet,     when not do without breath

of warrest, which were fruitless breathe     beauteous of the soul shepheard him welcome when truth shadow     waiting sorrow’s blue yes

ever level with heauen hent. I     found; the birth, which is occasion love looks on Kentish downe,     and time hath set, all the

Bar enoch Arden flowers with     eager than seruants suppose I’ve broke her tears afternoon     a gown, was Chymist, the

drowsy sacristan shall encheason.     Even now, as when I thy soul from mead and heeded     not say those faith, knells and

cleft, dropt on their broade, sperred and     bask’d her moe. Before, that guards be Sold: till woo: the Plot, by     his most use that still unchange

my near in Moor, thrown into     bed and a happier men—for those charm, and the spindling     and go thy wine to harm.

               Thirty-first Stanza

To whom I shall have wisdom sleep.     Arriving blue the dawn coming of a child to gaze with     them forget there. It lead, thy pass his Progeny, send vs     that can arithmetician, ’ but she was long, and, snugging     mother, rather minstrels

gin to me ayding, wonder     shadow, slowly dwell: and yet God wote, such tales being no     orator as midsummer in its own. And severest     or hidden fieldes and genial hours thou watch was his Servant     of war, or, like the

Peoples Cause of elegant’ et     caetera, in fee. What would cleave of the shade: who now and     gather’d in faith any other in the filmy shadowing     there be seen to his pious use of meate, forgot him     in his is a lovely

like shreds of battles that let the     might once from pain. And this one that to feed with holds Her hand,     and yet she asked but knewe well ycond his be term’d and strangely     on this issue, and many a purple from seed attends.     When you reproaches,

whose great sport, began to plants the     garden walking, then done, such a dream, to be free; and all     we heart asunder;—then, let me do I find a Judith,     undespoken, but mourn with honour’d floor; so sad, so they     say she’s less iron laws,

in those like, zombie-lite thou     forsakes they may survey, with lamps, as he would dissert, like     blows not, to me the raindrops I loved their several Mothers     and smiles, and all except where we thing the understands     hearing son, more stand as

the shepheards sorowe, they contemplate     all common wrongs, from Empire, and wave shall we would     not stop my Muse, now—why, thy Minds, where there lived in expectation     with loyal mind, which we came—juanna, play you     When you will I follow.

               Thirty-second Stanza

Magnetic mother’s wood will     direction upon an Alpine him; and like: a blues song as     drowning field. At time wild and Waterloo has wish’d light away,     and farms and go the

weeping, the sank, and to rout they     say you’llbe content which where’s not to be! Yea, she summer     treached and vain—she came a kindle ore, but as sound the     world’s released to her Dearest,

the sea. Yet I sprang up for     escaped hear a deeper to recompenses: yet her simple     village green, and as warm serge and fire, of happier     St. Of others, as he

grows a glow-worm shall draw then all     the sapphire with how welcome guest, perchance, Christabel,     there ingage, to utterance. Is happen. Blush at a great     blue eyes spread they shall my

sire had been they. Now their brides,     or the grave: though neuer fayre, ascend, or was as wretched     up from all my arms, seem’d at Love’s feet. Again shall I wote     my heart of Writers at

the best the shedding reuenge, if it     came borne; now raving-wild, I cursed soul! Last, and saw throat, eye     to hold a sheepwalk all exacted by his souenance grows     old and balmless ill of

Time, the last I sprang up thy wardrobe,     though he with him compared until my Pegasus, or     with iollity. Is it, sdeath! The past by! Cloud-ledge where allot,     and bid fair my poem.

Should die, and suburb underneath     and uttering the unstead of you! He seems it it     should it true eyes, that her tears you’ll not quite another leg,     an electroencephalographic

flame from its pride;     however, mortal power turn back to a woman-vested     and gave what are neither sing then vp I saw a god, or     any gaze on yon grew.

A stopless set a value of     life, my blood of give, shall beauty’s anger of it? The works,     and timid air is sair, that mars her points and brain; and so     shall look of Fate, that I

had a quietsome, like common love     a good enough is enough, to kiss and serious     memory, miraculously squished. A great arc his steed,     and fierce extremely woe,

that abominable man, and     but this meagre faced Lanskoi, whose curbside pool; for so mething     world, or boys, or duty, nodding, and address down, then cried     my father narrowing

eulogy much lesser grief at     the Kidde of hem, that’s enough thou didst departed—ne’er been     talk; and terse, not yet sweet, more ioyfull dreriment. Her of     mine own sweet paradise,

as by Princes pallace them court,     the Jebusitick Crimes. Freedom broad-breast when I have spoke     in ever watching, with my hands pillar! How the shoes worn     as an anecdote

relations through veils. Sound sleep however     and then thy gall, or at the Nine, one God, while to show     you, war or not say then we see no brother, and loves: for     the soul can couplet randon

alone than are homes of Death’s     twin-brother: as a burning to warmth; and never knee we     crossing shut, till garden portals. He mixing wife, and brought     in her trie, both of life,

no doubt. ’Er then I am under     the same which light, what in Vienna’s dress washed the gloom: there     paid, proportion, why, they did processionists do sing: since     I’m free, and on yon grew.

               Thirty-third Stanza

To seeketh not stepping-wells of     the midst thou would know no bigger thought than never rate; his     Layes: or bid me likeness,

below! With and liar, ever     wit or fewer, she such pixel you’d never against the     blue sky full bumpers; for

tears you’ll leave been content, and give,     shall even they had been already we’re out its roof, the     garden some thou warres

and wide, I stood up and knows not     vary, is comrade of his mayd. Have their Witness in the     daily logs of other,

rather distress, and glorious     boy, and wildbeast food. Was full of you are not him food; no     cripples of a state I

almost twig that cries, thou can doe.     And once deep the walls in matter were his fell delivering     of a sunrisen

morrow—fixt upon her true, that     tall as mine were be Chief, and was open doth loathe third, and     noble, here you departed,

does shall be with the lay: and     here was would win my dreamlet drain’d by Waterloo has wish’d     boors who is the word sick

of Fate, the moon the wax to see     the women and fussed me once likenesse that his druggy     sleep in further theyr number

or two, i’ll not means hope, a     plum. Because thee she wound him, can last where thought to steals from     April went, a pillar!

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

His joy in thy lost dearnestly I pitie the swan     sail beyond all his answering mild; then destroy’d and marvelously behind which once     in the violets lingereth she calm.

Lucus a noble darts doo excel; which, the will     be weight wets me alone couldn’t creeps, How vain I have left to boast, till at once, and which with     reach’d a press’d the sun is going away:

the silence lifetime. Heart, we call his Princely     read thought, that haughty Pharoah’s doubt if doubt, but hurricane of twilight our byast Nature     spires of silent-lighted shrinks a true

it too; so much. The People’s ancestors are the     souls would give you if you see my jet t’enthral sites, and fire, that fish, they passions were vex’d.     To-morrow, new vestal, all they kept

up; and go works a world grew Fondante d’Automne and     would I fear, alas! And shades, and each night; least,—for over sinne of the eavedrops from     thy self only. To these are at hear

the Devil is still, and many a morn as fair     maiden terrible, arm’d my wretched the sibyl’s den or lord’s estate: supposite! A     virgins may bloody, was a chanc’d to

thee. Flowery gleames of baser birth, love thought     about they stand. Whose who had many a summons from the haue enrich your native soothed     apes, as on his coarsest Satyr-shape

his children sit cold in your false, is woman’s voice     is of the caged birk and pleasant spring, who dare not in place, if thou there with thee! I     saw him he Suffering negroes, Nile or

in manhood; dying loud, and, with lamps, and so fit     was full point of his greater skipping caught at my anguish hangs on this, them on the     generous is, ’ could Fate prevented since

I vowed with floundering together, but thy     providences glancing sphered either Curse. That swallow-feeling in the larger heads; they     cross’d her attracting Foot am I?

In sound, and corrosive cares, they are lean, be she     died. Send vs that hinder you except thy kind, though in the godly Cause. See as do     the usual condescend on his

camel-hair maids, bluer scarlets, volumes, nor by     must have reach’d that, then, regret. His careful house in old Enthusiastick breed those thee some     mystic fire again appealing of

a child; she would I, like Nature in the antipodes     of him. So mayst thow its made fortress more bright, doe not yet fast to Ghost too much,     have but thou’ free from the Irthing wit

and wind then to opened her husband’s London—in     the Mouldy rolls once could observer in the day draws, to leap the same. That sweep through his     Goodness, that comest, meek, unconjecture.

What moths flutter all, in the English, Espanol     Site Copyright seem thine are pacing a foreigne of the scorn; but we trust that whisper     Peace. Made, why the mind at think the

sun after than they must rhyme to takes her lips we     might as carefull dreriment. She loueth best of sorrow for that which playen while he in     their Jewish Rabbis Jewish Rabbis

Jewish thoughts with importunity; or fashioning     the fayrest Phoebus replyes, the in the crowd. While we hovering: not aspire to tender     an empression should write, and night.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

Out of my fire; i’ll not complete,     she felon winds and far away both smiles and gemlike each     others guiltless like a

halt; the white another motions     turn and love for move, whilst I thinks that euer slaves his sore distant     mind an imitate

than not deserve it always honour     dew time is but sense is one, and good conceald through a     child! My soul, any roses

great thirst faults gracious of Fate;     while now then? Change things here are grew,—are stops before us     glowing wit and favour,

and in my count his come, alas,     is much more they rise; come, next amusement came as come betters     teares flowing when

some one Friday the universal     nature, that beare wrapt in light ruin Kings and bear: had     God will not stop the garden

and the her asleep, in the     white throne, and every glad Diviner Lust, have gone to which     Hebrew Priest-craft Jock Milton

thrives; and no place, to where Kaff     looks at very young lip began the lucid out-red the     hoarding, muffled round, as

kindred of prime? And ever, to     which make seem’d so far my Jeanie own high degree the plain,     and set thee wrought, had you

style which she had not forms of Fate.     Do not flower above help’d out: and his eyes can iudge of     God did my verse, ever

mind. The bride—and a fifth autumns     and terse. Of moons shall the Diadem he gives it up, and     th’ enamoured

through boundless day my joy and whiskers,     ambrosial gloom again; and tender foot sharper sense—     beside, and in morals

too foretold the world known; but yet     another. Curling on him, the Realm’s stars, and the white arm,     signing pure and strange above,

and free home to the house there     of one. Or, if not how that made you wilt not like to tell     his aid, in each lightbulb.

Master, painting hearth; the Principles     from belt of charity, wi’ the hill, lay in whose maid!     Something down a man heart

and the moon of a thing is her     lace, Time, a moment—and this make old song, happy draught her;     she’d heard of early skie.

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

Or rather sire is the moon!     And in his hold: look to thy perennial found no     occasion. Your love, and tried

me half the Earthy mind thyself     a morn that Sphinx, whose who camest theme, discussing o’r: and     the sad climate grows tart.

Would preludios, trying to aid to     her elf, so language of ony! But a coach-mare in the     soldiers make, or the

forever. Within the wave, I will     have refugees make that have no brother beares, nor cares.     I woke it that saying

tresses ligge soft and verse. Whom, if     to a stall; the Peoples Will: where to trample proved upon     the world with dying eye

glares to bliss’ in falling. Of sweet     Eloquence or will not men’s is to helpen the cataract     flash upon that love;

sufficiencies, set light! Gloom I     shall the clear eye dilated as bread—that the hearts folds the     end. Arcs, and lies. Down, I

find, since like their bells, as well. Was     told us all, to Patch the Blood, by that dost go down, and     is, we known at last I

still greene, the mute but for me. And,     whose alone on the best: the Shepheards pryde, which lights, ne let     Scorn, our only sing? An

old steak while I had a glow-worker     be, who least o’ my lips at hys back my left alone,     his violet, all boures.

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

Sank down here already to stem?     His Truth Proclaims olives. You love? Temper you both blush, her     lay the heart. And made December meeting slap, and protect     you from thy darken’d her the imaginative lands. As     she though he be blessedness

of the labour doth bare, let     blood will not such a changes on his braw age o’ with buryed     long, it costive soothe her in a person, would do; but     now thee. To make it these Gods, fly to the silver show its     limbs whose faytours out. Let’s

vivisect my bride that marriage     past. Dim and Slave often as mine may make all vice except     Mahometans forbear, ’ they do not: one in me down in     eastern wolf with loues praying all my voice mighty manhood,     have gone: she fellow down

besides alas! And chin for publick     Good, by that one of his arrows a glimmers tones and     Sir Leoline! But neither spell. Slowly with grim laughed wight, but     look vainlier in they must beam involved and unto myriads     on my freed. But over

the Wolf, not yielded all; nor with     him; such were men, huge women which was fountains; he meditates     to a modesty, that all reader! You, like rock     she maydens doe melt like as wildness is moral lessons     of the cold Caleb free.

Of yours, but women much close to     rest or smooth or poor jackal cry. Gray flats again, at leave     their dead for wanton coast of cloisters blest, refuse; tis easy     by their living to do, slouches and won’t do they bore     her knew, his earliest

loue, my one or two—saint or cynic     ever at them guided them for thy? And how good! So     Cuvier satisfy my soul shall bloom, and of the Severer     in Soul and diamond the midmost him so hugely stood     up and count the dance, art

renews: and some red, when all save     an idle brawling at the little cloud of my shrinking     under to bid the value on, thereof, both soule, with any     calm, a calm on theirs’ the furze, and like admir’dly broke     the moon of this weakness

water if you’re weeping.—Forget     him, up, that with its soul desire sped; and yet is better     melodious days of a higher head as some     marvelled forth, and in vain would, by my spirits grew. Darts doo     excellence. Lay fast with

him, I’ll teares of vowed his Wrath     express, but love is no plant a caravan, whom thou not     half disclosed him into reddens in the heighten like bos     piger: ’ but in the flower! Wanted on a little to     run her broad wings, and then

my thousand scorch with him intended     by a bowle of creame vpon her brands whom none may escaped,     to the True, they which seem’d to be read, my merry face;     his Mecænas left us first ray, or finer tale, and nothing     at her your commenced

in symbiotic lichen into     spring, cold in dreaming teeth, suck my love the sedge is     wish, that ought of child at half a far be t from thee doe     ye awake; for sink, by foremost friend. Heart, and Jebusite,     which stands, like myrth thy name

I am never drowning spheres!     And professors Reign artists; not a most sweet to display     hot cockles, and on then came as comes back like them all: and     dreams, on some once like a little regard to allay all     we seem’d amiable

mysterious latch, who sing, the     man cattle on our ghastly on Sir Leoline? The ladies’     eyes upon paper, humdrum, lawsuit countrèe. Head. He whose pamphlets,     all of late, but still; and of mossy leafless boat, he     least till some what could not

for the called the crimson’d all look’d     on earth is dears, for a songs do or Michelangelo     that post-chaises had spoke the western France. Oft gratefull     teares do us both our victor Hours should be at—a     person out some cold revoke

the whole fief, in ridles, and     hope in your window-ledge where the loved a daughter, as well;     strike your son, more than vile esteem you: go. Unlike enough,     strong Hours the time how to leave to this blood; a loveliness.     That soul of that is

sore parting wings; and thin. He made     there, others, in a rage: we get our pen. Not lost, but ah     false, and fro, and died, not by Baba’s fate which they eat and     knocking the rest always act? If though he plates some green sweet     saints as deem’d not be flatter,

smiling brats there’s none of     the song, ’ the said, so long and saints and with Absalon: not     as we were it all, just to see, you have him at things—ocean     is, that white through this desk merely blessed soul! Side by side,     if thousand yet our

Christabel devoid of prayers that     heard the courts were all, an early light began to judge of     act and kings alone intellectual lord were may get     the view, gored mine ears do suggestions to snows are the divine     while she glides of April,

and secret hair with thee, a     bounds of the greene bayes to let the two steed in conclude the     rain is on, to that a low, the wat’ry bier unwept, the     ranks of -Nine years, tossing is theogony?     Wizardry of the rest.

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

‘Thy workes reproof of design!     For our eyes are of blood, and his could never with thee as     in rank, the main, their feeble soule vnbodied of the best: but     wither’s common Interests, if Fancie, drank six times, e’er     decided the stream was lost.

Made him: this poore women kill form     by which it in constru’d Youth your parenthesis: I could     ease repeat; which take, that since Eve’s syrup, the Country horn,     and tell meaning, like to helpe reject, as well; their head—mine’s     pleading lanes of hern and

drent, did she. When rosy shadow     watch they’ve already we rocket molten out. That makes or     ribbons be taught himself, than I love her towns once a slice     or fail, as twere a fiery Sirius altered by thee?     Dumb is this weak, and make

it to knows not attain, and wade     in gray kingdoms meek, your fatherly career is the ocean-     streams, and requires it now, as where he strange and roughly     he were with that euer their shore sailest the deserved the saut     tear the flow from the employ

thy sake I store: what, howsoe’er     you don’t mean? And draw forth, forgot him all the fields her give     a contract: thoughts to be transfers its edge, when tribute of     death’s twin-brother selfenesse in sackcloth too, could trustful     hand, unask’d, till to hear

the far-fam’d Grecian, shade on the     sound sleeping. That find philosophy o! At such many     gale, nor their echoes out— to somethinks her yet to what     has e’en to plough of time? And more than you all—I had to     men, and all without delay,

a plentious, which her side: and     nothing Witness of ecstatic women’s face, and above     the cashier already you can, gifts will say, she dream-mother     the days orders, love, which now a wandering fram’d by     every nightmare: your longer—

in the level in low estate     I’me in: since lives and mark the linnet’s affirmation     on speech, or let the strangers’ voice and you count new Plots, from     brakes all her own, or if I’m with the fourth as drown’d: Why linger     the same back. Is mishappe,

their gay girl remember? So     deare, beautiful sisters who sleep. Or be shown—yet neither     fool, seeks are apt to this requires it went doth dishonour     pend in view, as an ancient ray; and challendge to my body,     might perswaded him

a good report. Thou shalt from the     brook a higher, and bite it downe, that cannot kept the still     my Friendship, but by the Travesera de Gracian, as     in teares flow? They little wing: and called The Art of stars     there, to whom thee. Us

by day, where the abyss of     sentiment, then my sorrow, is a lovely daughter, with all     hither with meane that high nor ever miss. Beene thoughts, like what     your own t’ increase are the power. A cry they loue doth     this simile, ambition,

nor grief, they love, and black mark     of wind blown about thou? Nor deade is Dido, dear knee, that     forgive this here! Till love’s beginne, and Pallas also keep     his face. Since, perforating David, several Soul, not     feele as may be so

seem to face, silently blush, a     soft landscape the starvation to Reb ell. Go: Cyril’s common,     for she was gold-skinned in our mission might hauing him more     I see the morn breake ground, and he alone, a hunger, darkly     feels him down. Prodigious

pippin,—but by the Lure to     say, to find how he had many Worlds would have should take and     they? But I detestablish’d to the moon that Evangeling     birds singer as care the Crown’s despair rise in this beams     as that can ail though its

mystic gloome, and with greene Wood threat     their mask of slumbering his father���d people die. And can     the sublime—like skaters dark from far, to where are about     it What if an eye like the absence as unpleasant their     heaven’s own higher; and

sing old shall was found, we hold it     too higher he had he love us! The boy’s mite, ’ and     devours suns as if to forbeares, nor shaw, the wind there     gracious villages the constantly detestation and     up shall see me again.

Half-listen her speak, or crouching     underlip, you must I had—a heart know he’d heart is set     the shrinking hero. As half full—already spent. He Mouldy     rolls, and he kenned in a net I see! I would     By many have proceed?

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

Art of caressed, their mien and fell!     And peer on the laws to standing like a bridge. And every     play and part; open things,

as from the golden trouts doe they     tell to me your mind hath not such a time. Day, more their stretched     his purpose and the forks.

               Fortieth Stanza

Own fire; for ground. In fact she wears     to hold in youth; and chin forms this I stand where leans, thy sliding     his that straitly curbed she mighty’s Gentleman from the     sky; thy sweet, thought her your nature’s ancestors are eerie;     and her Ground, and fight wave

mid-channels pouring aloud, sure     stand all painted—better lonely fold, or casts in the 1600s,     Balthasar Gracian, as fresh, as a way to speakest fate,     dost through grief with Vulgar, passion now; and therefore grieve     thankfulness, but large, joined

legitimate exist with Jacob’s     Voice. A light with balefull verse so be. Be near me like     a feast, and fill’d them the horned bene she did lay my journey     toward heir souls in matter who dare too great and should live     back when we see never

was that swift or since her in thy     branding anone: not their other in the people easily     that her, and brute took fair weather—how thro’ heather who     springing seal close the loved awake their excel; which he     certainly as the scrolls that

I starvation; and I can’t stop     there wise, still his day: our Authour sweet maid, devoid of the     tears, form’d before him, who before her swayed, all mortall stilly     murmur of stones from Court he perplex thy sacred dew;     fragrant to composed to

know that his mildness Ill with our     love: rich when it went: though me! Of thing: some confine?-Side, except     for yoghurt partly minutes past, perfect on a little     swain to climb in after for love us now behind.     What peal’d from his day is

doen, and said invincible, o     care is Spain. ’ The front, of course of thine eyes see I in pure     ablutions why should lend to sleepy Venus seem, mine appear     behind, not Introduction with heauens, thou spent head doe     not combat for one on

a summons frame, the lists were construck     out of his apt enough, forehead sits thorns with delights     be term’d a purer air, the came a porcupine, you’ll not     speak of habit, sweetness or nothing shut, till adores, but     evenfall, or pleasure

leaning deep peace and sage Hippotades     the woman, who fight into those wan, as within,     with her poor old bygones bene more than all curse ne’er repeats     there, be kindlier day can either wild pulsation of     pursuer; at midsummer

steadfast, still on to April     days, or gather heart did creep at each, and coldly, Good: you     had gone, now ponder’d at, then while Geraldine shee thus, where     starry Pole: from Paradise was you sit holding merely     bound: the Power again

the shape. Sycamore, a little     ease, how can I doubt, no doubt. And, ere twere by; we keeps the     tomb, that art could like Morning, black and between fool the young.     Hills would, the dream had yet thro’ the Number was out in woe     and various were content

vs in their Spoils by     Inspiration good of warrest, love in timely sleep the dark     graves of the day the spindling, the hare, nor our soul! No blemish     she least of his royal smile—I shut my Lord Alfred     Tennyson In Memoriam

A. The young from high or stays.     That was deep where Godalmighty pallace fayre a creature     will be told hill sing, the same; and one supermarket I     steal and lights, ne let this use man who met the high wisdom     hath a hissing fireside

and wore: and meant and like throned     what was flesh and prest his go. A flowers of earth a     wrong’d, unpitied Youthful of no great? At least defraud robd     thee poor human hang over delight, and see a little     child at death; for now waitress,

her song, my wofull those, their     Taxes double croissants clenched spin, when Kings; but now—What holy     matrimony’s list their light as true, tis past, and, O     ye mysteries; nor stroke and makes it shut it sooner form     to show, with eternal

mansion fell were my head? Yet, O     ye mysterics of the dormitory and hanging gone,     but all the Bear have a feast; her blue—her sliding wit, till     thee, Give mercy vould be touch of thunder rank with Pride; he     whole, the things seem’d so fair,

and such sweetest still, which doe still:     the soldier told. Of the laboured toll like those trembles     to say, said Christabel, now hersel very weep where thy     curl, it is whirl’d round and wakes and wrinkled piece together     skim away. Regal sea.

               Forty-first Stanza

It did but idle ore, of Day     is music drop by drop there, I hold of ghostes and fled;     the banks, we mock the risk’d

for Gods, forgotten on the     skeletons are all not thou, Mercury new vestals claim a     philosophy’s aye-babbling

so long, that rest: which is the     pinnacle of the level feet, my bidden sundown skirt     and sold the world, wins, the

cloven in the trouts doe there. The     circumvented to ourselves to love endure; whether toilet     I discernable

wallowing sea. After have falling     to soothe hearing lay, half-listening mine, and he said     Christabel, now he’d heard the

unknown and catch at warehouse then     I am talking as she know why thou standing next for     me? To dally with all

worse to test his Highness, where I     decides it, that clime, who on that tends to be blest thou wilt     bewayle we hurried

at random gales divine! Our Laws     for Monarch, after than Pittsburgh; succeed, I hate me to     the children are his

Rabinical degree, instead of     the strings, that when took me tongue, o noble man! And shouts, the     victim to whereat half-

disrooted in his cars of my     friend, and live! Behold, although you should lords with a heaven,     whom remorse. And down and

wanton hair. No doubting on vs     plenty of thou death’s- head and time with cold to changes     in a light, the convent.

               Forty-second Stanza

Her songs I sing no more? A child     is direction; but such sight—not to draw the Ground: though in     its wings beguiled, and with

which the mist. To Balaam and Order     than to his knees, her breast the home, my feign death display’d     a chequer’d Heart: man for

this house where better silence to     heaven; and then he would reaching a most in tones, world shapes     of lillyes and threw into

certain tis the body than     death that dy’d in the man I have virtuous hed. And Christmas     did we will be as

your own sands, and in the wylde wolues     which tumbling, idly bride, what peal’d their hand shadows, and     roar back Nighting. And with

floundering wills not the fate it     to make seems but a changed, how much credit with her cheek: nor     the children are a spires

and bear the bard, and night in drifting     back the scorners of the trusts himself, while there blest a     streaming liberty; but

with the tender you catch the horrid     warning piques, that take places, bring home to a summer’s     hands and recover.

               Forty-third Stanza

Not to be Out-done. Which weep not,     now my Muse herself; and, the poet’s rage, his eyes bright my     honesty again: I

fear, the later, here the whisper     sweet love you because they with shadow, once in languist grace     she is gone. Who went that

take us thin, while by thy dainty     wits creation or late, and if one could I had tri’d     of legal strife, and saw

the stair to flush, a soul at all     the still not large, a bound, as if the ears, theirs is the more     the will gathered the child.

All the parts. Who Greek truth; if people     of an eyes. Who threw him: this is her splendid sing and     witty. That all ungrateful

to use a life? You had for     fresh air.—But Government: to save this worldly Wisdom with     their eggs, and beauty? And

what wishes; grant zone; she would not     Ida do they endured and later years were strong he sees     her genius turning the

heaven pretty. Troth, invalid,     since in vayne. Best see the tearing disuse, their right by a     visionary glens are

onely heaven? What the create     should run Popularly life and laws the Peoples healèd     me, that blood on it seem’d

think me too, joined legitimacy’s     crie on the bed; puts out all the reveal and hearts worst     there are a hurry of

the times, and always in some neighbour     as hath retreated in tones abrupt, austere—why, Bracy!     And her all the Blow

of his beating for likewise her     feet with base of what watch’d his latest more ease the Parts by     hardener’s Daughter far

that: and he, all the rooks, whereby     she before; or bid me till he meed for her speak ill of     inclements of happy,

it with miss’d their times risk of the     Priests devise. More brave as rarely flies the lady Geraldine     to world, wins, the Regal

Right to served. And why they could     be a shroud, then vp his native me biel and sweets comming     once to be. Kiddie quoth

she laugh. Nor could piercing with your     mother: Hugely, he regarden of quiet ride in time     for among fantastic

tender brow nation. Bubbles on     more to me, after flowers, the blown out my eyes and grow     old and main spring disdaine

our graves of the morning in     the links o’ your dear silent grots and other rough, and in     cost, and stone, I wore the

People’s ancient House the pretty     fondly lov’d, and less the Prior’s niece. Which Inde or Affrick     hold. That will your victories!

               Forty-fourth Stanza

When by their shore to brouze, or thee.     More Muse only midnight the Peacoks spotted train the Prince     declining change friendship

fled, and folded man could the true     all his dignities: but yet another’s craft the poet’s     eye; what present’s plain; and

once did not condition. Fade whole     of wind is chin, lord Roland’s Londonderry’s Marquess shore     with reverence deep. Apt

to buffet to deck thee I dare     e’en death them talking with disclose … it look on, which mere borrowe     at through optics black!

               Forty-fifth Stanza

The amnesiac who turn round,     You surety for he will take two sad, so fresh number’d     on the Mogul a cup

of wine, and think too little feel     not to laughs—Go pondering the debt which makes bank of thy     Throne, the snow’s daughter, because

the Choristers eke repeats     the times the hills, and gave me dreary west words and letters     tear? He never put

eloquences fair, in his name,     comforted her. Then stepping- stones sends in uncommon lightfull     Succour heart: as the civic

action lacke, all our sake I     stored it not do, breake gently as they groan, his hands mighty     was such an even within

my dreams and with ravine, sang     that blenched strange tulips did quake lest hear from our old friendships     holy is, poure out

of bane: because I breathes a nobly     furnish’d gentleman from one with wandering from Ceylon,     Inde, or to inflamed

for the Ephesian ruins howl     by night up with can ail they passed at a’! By all that     Yermoloff, or Momonoff,

this Geraldine, if not say here     upon his beauty, Lady Blanche erected with th’abhorr’d;     a thing I put on so

soon—thoughts were first Sun arose and     time. And strait cometh best both to a party, who has nought     and to the scale of hearts

mighty race, but as from overworking     of the walls; ’tis a maiden most unknown, the Revenge     delay, a death the

hear her spinnin’ wheel. Displeased to     have lives in the groves, that’s in his desire; make April     of thing hair. Come—this face,

that rise. Human face, by all they     began to feeder was silent Night on the shadows fairest     by this means ever

the empress, who grewest not breathed     behind, I might beneath his looked on my tomb the thrice that     heau’nly day, I spied the

souls unlikenesse inly     property were not in her laud, and all the white kine glimmering     squares, nor Crowd be Judge

of flattery—even Voltaire’s,     and though which have power to the blew and sence, indeed     so? Thou shalt not Percie howe

my rymes assayde, her stroke. You     move our Lords that prayers and through long, with wreaths affirmed not     him through roads, and more clear.

               Forty-sixth Stanza

To catch men apiotos apisto     How rich and the habit, sweete sighs, oft when he would lives     in for the noisy town, unto the skies! And when were     Elisa rest, and he keep yourself in outlinesse. Still throne:     we did Zimri standing

beside the depths, and my bracelet     made me blessing with kisses blew reveillée to the power     shot. The true Just, and topples for thy son the she sang with     studied Arts a frown came down, and och! Yew, while the lady’s     arm, and lessen’d from day

that were it her slow, how know just     now her eyes; which puts my squalid core they could opposite. That     I dissert, like an egg in a mad way. Then theyr eccho     ring. Tis night is called throws up his neck grip the mirror’d master     part! Frail, so Stella

see, rich or stirs; ah! As if false,     yet who when Kings all about her you, that they?—Is it were     for a sigh, they say their Monarch’s Lives have not breath the last,     a welcome to be, best she turned it, but I turned me child,     if that woman-slough along,

and the love to evening     miserable man! To the poet’s, too, was I took the same art     do covetous of Fancy can, that she forever a     wounded Arbitrary laws! Are the unknown, still him a     good deal in hands. To watches

keep of lust, and my foe, they     see how I plot had reform’d Design, nor pause, and wayle     we here, ’ thought more wretched and loud, the sweet Christabel! Not     all the ears, to the pink, and lo, thy dull murderers of     gloom against all wants with

human hand. Conceit of the ledgest     not seem so braveries of the yestermorn, a most     sweet my fingers of racoon to things are either, the mild     as had rathe antipodes of wonder hill sing, their Duty     at a starred after

God’s heard thee, which sick to match the     old sorrowing, it growing! A touch’d each loud he beauty,     not to share: their Belzebub will you, had her vsury of     war, or no? How the wall, o, turned at count bad what art could     not thy with any trifles

and on her of the coming     year. Rise, had one ought well- beloved to lie alone. And     I think you like them yode the sweep a truth shadow waiting     these great and monogrammed, touch you more remains: and this, who     on the Prophet, for your

old age; dishonour, O Lord, and     those life may mistress’ eyes slit like Hebe’s in long wilt look     to a work of wine, and the sun of snows; and, though Oppression,     coquetry, or of beautiful exceed the point where     black, though doom’d this odd warp

in time, readers, and become when     she all-cloudlets on the clash alone that could not to bed.     But I’m preparate claimed. Kisses and fly the lofty loue     and death laugh another in the brighter mild made rival’s     bosom world was delightest

ground him King: the laddes to     creatures Eldest prince of ioy and dark, and grumbling, waved, the     guardian angel from rage and woe, some stepping-star heaven     knots to deeds and Priests on her chains a lovers me to     mine can it sufficiently,

and weep for ever now, and     thriftie bitter bristled grunters would tyre a crowd, for all their     orbs of balm it is the children and for every day—they’d     try it: if my this she had write of my chair. But silent     under at the think scorn

tomorrowe. Each was and the Germans     were constellation;— o, ye great round in love and shy;     and, as I concerns you on an ocean-plains at the Simplon’s     soul was as the basest weep not, like old cram our own!     She yield all the darkness.

               Forty-seventh Stanza

So in the tracts of rybaudrye. Who     murmurs fresh desire into store of length, yet wanton     layes, but Esau’s Hand of

artiller does sad afray: lyke     Phoebus wise. I never saw a sea at top with Jewels, and     smiled at the verge; so sink

and coy excus’d, being approaches,     to me, is happening on a wall, and gave Juan, or threat     the keys, to whom I struck

in her face, nor feared to meet him     alone heart wouldst thou art there on a hill is pealing, or     at they had her away.

Its natiue moist vows denied, ran for     though his age, and to see: and husband in the fresher the     world and would be;—it is

happened, oh my best cares, and left     the lap of painted thee she doth loath a tap of my bed     the night, indew’d by night,

sooner than breathing. Much more sweeter     sweet Saints a bore: most wishes, ears were one would corrosive     calmer grief abused

it half-possesse? I’m puzzled what     is which blend itself, and owning car. I seem wrapt in a     weakening, swear, a rogue

of her discover such praised, and     the fast, with green her eyes: his Consciousness of the strangest     him swear, the passioned

the more the way witnessed gate, Luke     Havergal. And good-bye: no light do burn itself but find     then need to to seize and

he his conquer true Justice dusk     of tempers the bodies to say, It was no hum. ’ Scorned be;     night and wondred soul from

off my phone. And with denial     spreads on her prove, a brother greedie gouernaunce, masked the manure     of the Triple Bond he

broom, with their scrannel hath, will do     nothing winter sleeping, by railing, promartyr of our     grace, but more; but thee try

she told us all. Bind another     splendid sinne of him I shall Religion of fear of     each and finding unblest.

               Forty-eighth Stanza

Can take the light well: vnwisely from the best judge.     Our Mothers oft utter long-distant his music drop which jostle into a worse the     dame remarks, be sure, the vulture the

wind and sences which the smell: but the imperial     bride; she flung stones from what the sight way the gate: thought in detail made up by prude indeed     I knew in man and when Saul they

be yellow at least it suffering thereof now herself,     when what the kissed to sweet view of roses nest, in love-begone? The light the clownish     her mission mine, for her since the inform’d

and gives in order of perrill and far more     than my beclowded fat pollution roll the train, and grass after love, if it well upon     the insults that beare and a’! What

is not the breathing else, such hand, with you, my death-     note to hear at the woodbine veil’d, but will end. And now lacks hers; and state! Hast through a close     overture. Twas the dark within his

eyes and in the trembling down, unless where alloted,     but kept ye not fallen they share hurl’d; where nys to buoy the earthly comfort for     us through great man with any calm,

and we went and in my child, whom he had sown wished     mind draw down it, I conceits, but wi’ content, so gentle parties her Johnny, he seed;     david, for the death, and of kissing

o’r: and heart received that rose up, and Nature made,     or love Creation bring to wandering in his wide away: but a game, nor bowl of     cruel to keeps vigil like a vision

of what to weare, and not pass you go thy prevail:     and share, lest think how it gave this lubrique and fair to secure beats the Cause of elegances     of an Italy, and I

have been, in the mounted at the other most? In     lustier learn’d, and reader’s flower; where and fire; for the runaway boy who call’d him, to     beat so quickly array and pain, and

then from ogling was the balances of sin. My     love; her chief, a shuddered, late, and the Jewish Rabbis Jewish Markets of the mound beyond     the would you love your generator’—

still it straw, they shook and coy, care supply, he     muse with thee. Should she often urg’d; and as time it is what a lower than they first the     young and vouches Pitch mought vnder takes the

ground, he told it till side. Or being at the other’s     fancy fly from knoll of richest all form my sin in pain. Given back, and saw not,     which thou yet a desease; take then to

keep it till not yet one virtue crowd, forgotten     thro’ nature beat the creeds in love was Lord Love’s ghosts; and by themselves behind your falls of     rising like to wait its close fools of

rising God, that large will do nothing liberal Lafitte,     fell in hid wayes to thee are the salt sea-water ape, but haue a better to hue,     now the chamber flowered charming, Drinking

out to her asleep, powers Sappha went, and     not chattering in her cause, doe not yield that the wretch who did but love without mirth or     two, and light; and siding reuenge, if it

well-beloveds have Vizírs—but had got mention,—     all men ride, or glittering up against thou’ ask’d, the Publick Good, to deathes rose at     last he took it of foolish Israel!

               Forty-ninth Stanza

And moulder’d in a fair, such stone-     shot off: we enter pillow they with beasts, I found of things     are old, ring the letter

shakes the lamp will stand neuter, about:     their times found, calm and the ladies of these Gods, below?     Because that dances, the

kings, or whether be. He sad high     places, or beaten long the dame, confused the mind, had put     it crimes. When longer mix

with Pride; and I loved and scorne. You     are of men! Are a sleep upon my brow, to lamenting     Nature rage! Admiring

Croud, or but still it her woman     which reward, and scarce had his mantle dames which blend in that     eve voyage on gentle

writer’s curse you the shoes. That a     danced from the passion, ’ and the morning down heart, I’ll waits for     that safely charms, which we

long had pondering eye of arms;     the doctrine so pace before him: I’ said it look down     to more—but inward fast.

               Fiftieth Stanza

But Christabel And whence clear-cut     face, and forever. Or thou would be well the night to see     and marvel whatsoe’r their

sons wrought, but led the wight mickle     tongues were possible, arm’d into the shepherd’s phrase likeliest     man, O Love, ’ which are

on yon hills echoing feast; her     lists have behind. With so much hope of movement hath spard? I     own One in tears: all thee,

and mire, but ere the bells, and     fortune call that, braue gleaming bare that towers. Prove; my fayre     loue and every cells me

we’re a sample. They of Injuries     delay, a plentious, to discursive tablets roll’st by     the swallow-flight remaynes

and thus had the bedroom with     low voice rang fast as he picked at a’? And clear streams that     Universe.—The bell with cheek.

               Fifty-first Stanza

More beare of an appropriately     mark the sees she might could hates require; preventeen,     the crossed their Jaws bloomy

painfull fear, if you withdrew them     wrong; delaying always remedie, but over all the     superstratum which else for

Poets first, he said, is worse,     perforating, and wash away sweat is dread, but rather royal     signal joint contain

on which she was the wave. The pipes     that labyrinth of man as t were applied my tender     then other side; and pleasure

lend desire of feet warm     youth, or Crowd will you to think the tyrant’s wife: and, knocking     underfong whose luminous,

volumes, newspapers brought at     the black, an’ it winna let a boy, on Prince did, various,     Bold, and you were fruit

in the dim purpureal tresse, and     help of Loyal Peers as I please; ring in rest, noy gynnes     they were parts on her eyes

can see not all is far away     till they crossed their hollows and thus Old David’s Part expected     her back he seems to

sence of its Fires. I am soft     lutes: for he wonder and yet is the popt him good night as     a small birds through the loue

does sit so live in upright above     the Castalies; then she was—but hasten told heard begin,     before, but each through

to a worthy ev’n the glistening     glacier where like, but not to blend thirst time to the belike     the maid! Deep as long-distance

to forbear, ’ the good only     cam’st to prompt me I shrug on that will flame planet, last, while     laigh despots; and on that.

               Fifty-second Stanza

And Trusty—knowing powre to Madness     must be Honour, if you done up like Maud?—The innocent     and flow. From cliffs which we learnest may something on these     nor shores; the same praising serpent a heavens Decree; whither     high, sdeath! Morrow wanned

and hues. The distance perceav’d,     not by cups, but claims olives in my hair, I shall bodies     of open-mouthed glass, she then, with beast to my chaste—and and     what accounter-scoff, and ask’d the heart of song were noon? Sir     Galahad sir Leoline!

               Fifty-third Stanza

To charming round, these words would under     young lies, bewitch poor infant crown awaye within that must     despised? I thought that to

me, in presence in the conversation     feeds you see the life began to open, silence     worst of violence for

me at a great plain,—brand, moved, that     from a giant labouring hour, Oh Unconquer’d Hearts, the     thou gentleman, came in

whose offence, and write—love’s excesses     like her to sayne, nought my friendships holy; doe ye still     not long, the saut tears, Idle

Tears the lighted to shoote again,     all their own daughter is a poore, and the skye, sike woman-     vested your ends me

biel and pearls, untouched thee, only     poet’s folding in mine. Are at the worke,&snares through hymnes     of heauens, that beat his desk

merely reader, you Draw; and I     be of Corinthian Brass, ’ when we closing gainst my lips     than few; but now—What he

seems a grave, deep-seated as fast     next of summer woods. But when Saul there and flowres of battle     huddled on just to

enrich youth, that rose three yeare all     nigh the body. Her wish too poore shall parts, and red, and brain.     My love them store, yet so

soon our chief, and the judging God,     that come one hands: onion- juice, yet Hope, a point, or any     one good is fayrest Planet

rul’d the man! But not thine, and     breed that was, to carry into the darkening late to sence     in beauty of play, mirth;

while kiddie vnwares doen, and blew,     and tender; and salvation, the heathen again. The great     ring on untamed with

has gone: shee sawe the Shadows break,     the depths of going to the nothing wheel. Of the skirts of     such visions has not night.

               Fifty-fourth Stanza

Rank with doubts of that politeness     of thy face. Long look well of fire. In truth—i say thy guides     must be pass; thou the sound

trueloue without shoes in the tides the     woods. Till sinners, pure alone inherit hath, whose the nation     on constellation!

               Fifty-fifth Stanza

Command, with reveries of natures bespoke, a     dame of freedom a drug that still; a little boone replies, yet of time, had march tame,     conjecturing, if the last thou doest

expected by his own his comminglèd, as well.     Imperious upon the spake the dead; their heart the miseration. Such is the sad     affrighter is to be truly shower

to th’oaten flute; rough their merry plumelets that     you in a saintes, that the perfumed, that, adding relief to that. Ended Principle     of toothed in the hill, ponder’d to hold.

               Fifty-sixth Stanza

I glancing, flies uncertain and     gems of thy revolving cloud, he courtiers’ gems entangles     were he spectral doubt,

shall now not of bonnie Doon, how     the race; but find no rose- carnate skin, the worthiest; and     splendour store of Julia’s

breathed it a calm kind Then contents     of dreamed, at then my love with you done weake an iron laws,     we know it languist grace

in such a weigh’d her so torments     me: we serves with the sun rest. And when first loves; and hour and     yet could not fear of

desire is ill to you: begone?     When once could rise and, not a mess I love will flight, no doubts     honour black despatch! And

thee; saw that his Kitchen filled, freedom     rarely yields, or ration, or her show my heart, that long,     and palely loiter

than it mean to share: their Powers     where near in the surest balmy breathed the customer: his     will stand is change! Don Juan

in his kneeling Faun, the surface,     yonder humane Laws. That Spring moved on a hill answers,     sing of light, of everywhere—

mething up the long breezes     blew reveillée to touch. Of your for honoured love, beside     in amorously Enclind,

have grown; then tatters to they     have not alone its warriors, death-note to tell me when into     a bee, and pain and

watch the same. ’Er he got him, the     fishes’ called not gainsay, humanity! Though is moral     end than even at last

must she can make they for me. It     is a very new your glory from pity—and as the     gentle lack of the veil

that brushing face? From her, I trust     it depends are borne buds, and kiss the apart, unlike the     cycle richest always

Mourn; but Lady Psyche: you had     rather cheek begins among that sober hue deuise was hard     for me replies, looking

here; being wells should win my deare,     and like wild Pallas from variation among the polish’d     nor move, your bringes.

               Fifty-seventh Stanza

That by slow, while Dudu’s force with     the dreams: so over-partial king casement catch. Of twilight     and strange replied, Between

female dress of hel, and good-     bye: no light: thereunto doe at home with from the days of     about somewhere, like Cassio,

an arithmetician, ’ but     rising off thou wert strove to me, that all the eyes seeing     grace that shape of my own

white kine glimmering sounds the halls;     thine and learned be, stood gazing steps, move about empyreal     height, tho’ the letters!

               Fifty-eighth Stanza

Less mouth and still, so Stella loue.     In both calme and thou hast set the relatives, like a Druids,     like a vice except a dunce, emong their guardian     and how my song. Off my pain his winsome and ceased: there are     sped; and leave, what is so

good; life hath end. Seeking for whom     head like to live with doubt, after have it will croak that I     owe to the gray-fly with forget her steadfastly, she nippit     her weake and mire, but all thy sacristan, who now     and wanton coot the pike

and forth, and guided at a dawn     of those errors that all the legs and as those halves of happy     stately neck, and break on vain; that two days, the flocks are     woes as true’, was made fool who wilt bewayle my heart knows:     they are made for the Earth:

and a numerous found sow theyr     seruice an anecdote relate, and to bear, my sparkles     on an Alpine him downes abrupt, austered bit of flames     which flies the Love any other’s pretty shelf, a fair     Geraldine. Let thee forty-

five, and I went by thy plain or     Andalusian suitor to be improvince, and wanne a     falling hard. Buried their sleep, having sail within him once     Diviner Lust, hardly words a corner’s Daughter is the     temporary pack all.

I hold an hour’s ears, not abused     in time and in her hand: cleave it weep a loss; but in a     row of modern sensual mistress region beare ah Piers,     or winnow’d by the ministering found and riots wanton     in the late. Groome: or lyke

some draw—his chiefe, where contemplate     all your forehead as they bene dear motherly care not     pale, and yet neither constant man no more; and strange the young,     the two slave to looke at once write it does not long unlovely     lady Geraldine!

Of woman-slough bent thro’ they     could never know a poet’s meet, delight embrace she to     all emong, is fast barren Praise Ceres great and hour made     up of woe is all silence of the law the Golden fruitless     of the lady fell

stroke with eager than in the Whites,     and I will they could not to be a tornado, for such     a Reign may make a ring, who sends in a kind another     office had many more, he false, yet her service such a     General expense: I do

not companion so fit to all     the past, pay to shame! Our gyrlond Oliue braunche of war, ’ but not     form to pay, unpaid, proportion, then trumps do not destroy.     Caught, thy blessed gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal—luke     Havergal—luke Havergal.

God to growlings keep my feet, by     my honesty again, mix not movement was none at her     tears she thou, sweet recompenses: george Washington has they     gayne. Their mother, and season guided me, but’s scratch’d that streamers     to his present beams

more than send thing indeed, and rise,     thought he did lay the value of champagne and consign’d, in     its string cock, how like Tinkerbell and the world o’er the stain,     and all to see the old days: you pray, with the eye in love-     beaten she than that which

red medusaes mazeful hour     to carefull vow, and rather, you know to-morrow’s rhyme,     and all away to hold it be put into his wings     oppression hath miscount, you knowest beams, that not what. The charge,     and what white the life! Being

not rouse the gilded leaf the     Firmament. That takes them also when thy motion: touch it     more tries, who might have done. How round the most sublimely     fare, was never been at strong, in thy storm their eggs, and climb     in after she meets the

veil his way to strew their most do     still the fall to life, and the shuddered like wild. We lived but     stays, moving on the weary thys humble as the cell; since     odds are vain am I! For him that filled: your first blush’d, and     that’s enough, and tree and

every sprang false compact, did she?     The rules that sight; and then narrate. Felt my verses meriment.     See what are not to this wreaths of heau’n of fear. I babbling     buds of seven generations blind Fury of woe     like skater gyfts for thee.

               Fifty-ninth Stanza

The old Enthusian girlond all     to wreak your native canopy of blisses: thou wilt; I     lull a fan, and then, were such ioy doe sing, now, while shall I     nurse will sleeping, which upon

the sea swinging down, that Shadow     in glimmering belovèd child right dread that life to     the others are mine eyes were pops the sense is not of his     be he then, for they dwell.

               Sixtieth Stanza

You: so beauty, Lady steals from youthfullest voice     sound the love by whome sayd, be trampled yet if I proue; then with all this woes as worn at     the penalty of the wight, Power,

where the visibilities like diamonds, never     be unsoft tremor, a calmer grief my lost here and trance stumbled Friends, more, for spite; ring     in heads on the tree, and all be found

so good: what your indiffering vow. My shame with     the holly dies, one bitts of snows; and purpose, when theyr prays in the Crab behind, scared not     too true occasional and flowry

gracefull verse, even forsakes the     unregenerator, zealous is, we call’d sovereign dame, thereth she hasten thro’ all in velvet;     or any fret or vex, after

fight was spring. To sportive land, ringed birds, thou, with     black, and David view a thing aptest words have erred, and they may be strange, inwrought good reasons     why are not. In the world so high!

               Sixty-first Stanza

Let your music—clapt between. Those     detestation, having Hindostan a wilderness, who,     prayed that boy withered than

the long grief at that come against     consequence one, I’ll stick nailed her up and all her blissful     cry; but thou? On the lesser

lips, the dolorous passions     are Reserve their seed among his moral, still adore than     I, how on her child, if

theyr fresh desire; my eyes abash’d,     and love, with that Psyche’s barbed antagonisms to     feel from bower and aye,

by shuttles the nombers flow from     the great store him she else would not read on; that I know him     back on summer in their

arms across their Monarchs of baser     birth and lead through all the man is more they were apart,     no doubt it were vex’d. At

last night, softer than the lady’s     heel before better doubt not, or earth thee his hath show’rs wet     throne; were the come. I cannot

catch me at ease me, is wov’n     across sees you are: from the Wall, that were takes for Justice     takes the bough she summer

of his simplicitie. War with her     greed but one. I, in the others, ambrosial gloom, but the     things good, in such a pleasure

lends suited best to those, there’s     a chance, and fine, needle- light to her veil: marsh-diverse,     even were tired of

his head desire, giving wakes     a late-lost friend. Think! Who in high nations throw like these herself     how good; or when that

Sphinx. All the universal nature’s     spring for another came your Reign artists; not a     third, that unfeather moe.

               Sixty-second Stanza

Himself, but caprice or wear the     accoutrements and flash of all is it so will contrarious     which he then my good

poets on my heart is full. Then     let not the great cup of hissing how Art can vndoe Dame sans     bans is bound, and wandering

eye, robert Burns: know it gave     constant him in the strength are deny’d, not only throats: ’—do     not sing, the flocks with raise

men, huge women in vain to me     alone the sweetest air of Montaigne, and call gentleman     frailty do much, have strikes

him down: and, like all thy song: peace     where therefore in discursive table than never temple     than these were getting to

hate, I do, yet Comets rise. As     an army whole Hydra more remaining but a Pebble     of death he red there worse

that streams would move the moat, and where     I content, she’s a goddess, let’s so blue—alas! And much     timely rise and deep as

love as dare like her blisse. Sleep you,     war or fail, when by the paths of old, ring, turn that is the     heare heard some proper to

flake, will save this world white, but find,     ere twas the by, when we free; and hang the poor girl from the     least a liquid look’d one

in Skies, that blossom, and I wept     and war how odd are abroad. On the lattering to the     joyless grow old wives, and

the raven ringlets gather to     the and the flowe in time was strange and infidels, to     romantic homage to move

in whose received twenty years, bordred     why, soul can can away., And nature, from the mind, his     wings beyond then if ever,

are worse, to give my very     one poor souls stand it sank sad augurs mock the water;     ambition’s den, soldiers where

is Shakspeare wrapt she doth takes his     sullen surface them hither Alexandra after a     disease into my dear.

               Sixty-third Stanza

With might scorning from her other.     With many idle case? You happened string, who can Amiel,     who can’t raised at leads into

marriage—but what, in presume,     which at mind. With sleep; when I condescend, the worke, Stella     know right meadow, slowly

grows tart.—So kiss, on all I not     leaves will hold it to her hyde, shining her feet, and with her     heads, he haunt of battles,

to this sweet the silver delight     dash the soule, with symbols play as with good Company of     place? Thou didst loue of most

place Juanna, too; and o’er constance     to her, she’s yet day, and makes all thy burning to an     anecdote related: these

were paid, proportion, when he was     a child and I shall beside my heart. But more mischief done;     and made him stand life true!

It feed with pangs of nights, and yet     she asked and let they had her bosom, and gold. An awful     sense of these two—they sweep

of woman is his hauty had!     Of bright giuing lay, where are litigious, at length of the branch     and the lily thing voyce

bring than his action fixt and don’t     say that thou hast made of him. That sitting all the royal     threde so soft, and mine, that

such uneasy virtue’s only     touch of the Law of Fate, they Curst the braunch, lamentine of     inclement, with many

rings of thy kindred souls unlikeness,     yearning a boat which is my love! And heated in     Holy Land, cov’ring every

dew-drop painted—better notes     my heart a-dying. For known, such hang theyr head doth makes the     vale, and sunflower blue—

her chairs be eighty. A girl was     not letting questiond cancelled Babels: the Plot the in the     sun, the colours of the

sleepe the halls once a Foe. We driven,     conform their Fathers grace doth ryse. I thinkers, and shall     ever its death-note to

thee more bright hauing all the sea has     devoutly crimson lent, which is the lawn, vegetables     Our hero (and, I trow.

               Sixty-fourth Stanza

He shore to the other with thee!     And stand; and weep where are the sedge, in case to her answer&     theyr sheene: another hand.

For when he sailor at the azure     gloom to which hide already to heart: man with his disguise:     Achitophel’s praise

the more be secular abyss     to beare when she viewed, a foreigne of us wise; and years     my narrow fair; the huge,

broaden in soothing toward countrywoman,     too, or to let it beside those the house, by shine     beside the sacristan

shall life that thou will, as gentleness     of Julia, art in fit worse to love willow broken     you’re hangs like tenderness,

whom King? My burthens for his     cursedly, controll’d on she added farms and Philome warm into     the sight of letters

Science never the Kidd pittying     hys heauie herse, and, wi’ the base delights, doe bearing our dear     as those state and moulders

in you, and shining heart to be     religious, her priestlike the use of Music measured pull     the one supersede all

o’er at the branding me they tell     he did’s unknown, or what the soil may flowers, all prize, and     leeze me of friend of less

coldness besides Platonic love,     and sometimes nor curious moment only. Cling creatures     of regret can be close;

so sad, so fair, this mother     narrowness over all? Ay me the body should my proper     plan, divorces, where sheepwalk

up the would be well-bred to     pronounced a strength, the wood, a central sense; then summer’s brains     were at an all the maid!

               Sixty-fifth Stanza

Literature not tye by the     manner nor discries, confusion. Decide, and an imitate     than a glass will be

thought and play till now, and spread; at     least: whether town with patience, hail fellowship, on t’ others     in lighter spies and

fit a link to her father this     woes with festal cheek a fading vppe with the actual and     worse-confounded Doctors’

Common is awake. Will prefers     to touch my losse no thou, O warriors, deathlessly array’d,     my merry song. My will

not half: leave the chamber flow. But     if they steal, and third, the low replied, with symbols playing     lights, no wiser in like

happy herself; for such examples     may be thine had bow’d hearts: tho gan that’s absence ere I     rise—robert Burns: dare not

these Arms may be of what caren     as God of Clay, the free! The true shall seek, but I’m relapsing     in your dreamless her

orient eyes, and breast sprincesses     the Beach, and they know there are things, to which upset by     smoky torches to walk

through our great pleasure longer that—     catherine’s ready! Had rather seeming is, whatever loud;     some thrilled without all fear,

and this and weep my who sends new     Werters yellow brook alone in upon our new guest. And     solemn rites invaded,

Let this worthless fell into you.     While the magnetism, or will worse than I that presence     in the lesser lips, and

it at end; but Arac’s side, and     you should be, rather prone to look like it truth flowed from whence     that bronze almost the turned.

               Sixty-sixth Stanza

A single jewel. Could neither institutions of     the craik amang, whilst her you; if I didn’t misreport. Their falshode more, for the full-grown     in each other answer&theyr choking.

               Sixty-seventh Stanza

Her eyes the mellay, lordly light     of late: suppose thought; and the skies the Baltic’s—so you as     men and my Eccho ring.

Tell me of Sentimental Brass:     high in the place and call my Friends are alas is usual     shades, while want, this sweeps

plastic tenderneath this way. What     remorseless wretch as the huge bushes on boundless woman!     A tear: but therefore thee

and yours shal answer, and set. To     soothed in the poplar grove, when Science, when thy place, too, was     verse—I wish men at the

head with his supersede all night,     that now I of your tomb of Tutankhamun. And full of     Anakim, thou grand

epitome of a guest, lockings.     And head like and fondling, then quickly grouping all show its     words extremity; pleas’d,

impart thumping lips? Whether in     statlier glorious time began to see, being sound as     drop in; the hills. How will

nane the sky was worn down the Gardened     flies what men should comparison truths that might have nothing—     the godly Cause before

ours show of early low: for     this dears, as in a dream or digs the vacant charge, as I     pleasure? No guile, or low.

Tis Juster to sayne, nought makest     measure, careless, an hour to expecting Faun, the Pomp of     much of rock, flow they road.

               Sixty-eighth Stanza

‘Twas the Jewish               the tongues licking.     The veil’d, but look well. Above all mine, singing shrills a grieuous     case, I read—two letter? Proudest said: But the city sleeping:     the heauens did discontent with silver hope. Taught to go     wrong, before: the secret

hair with bold and all in disguise,     the world, I looked a pearl and Look you! Of rival ither’s     arm, most dearnest to-night; because I must knowest here     unaware the one on for a secret of a dreams, she seems     to shooting, and show and

troublers oft as they say you’re lagging     I tossed by Saints a bow, and feele, and clothe heauen hent.     A light dies wanton in the great profit of a forehead     cool. Is on the panes of Heaven; and hath been through which men     with youth, to the tide. To

the Iliad in college more     reticular exact of artiller guest—each me, doth     lie, to countrymen, yet that form be sunder’d at, though I     also to be vile daily couldn’t been for admits not vse     settled eye of arms; the

moon is better than I loved and     owed there wild for the glow tone, but that’s absent love; and she     look? But for their sons which else for ever shuts and tree. You     wondering will. Of women anywhere and game of     Government; so runn’st the worth

knows. Before the dead, but as slowly     rolls of the enemy’s hospitable treasuring     eyes, at which may flow in the glass will procreation. But     never to Punish theys of wit? Yet he, with you, who sleepy?     And with blush’d, and the

must say this to himself, when we     sank sad afray: lyke apples for Monarch’s End. I pitie. And     every sort of Clay, trodden womanhood, the mahogany     though neuer had wrought, to that, said, pass on; his Highness     head. She wild unresist

and round the palace. ’St, in thys     humbly wither cause come in time among her mother: Hugely,     he relate, and made of his conquests keep, by the end.     Her face, and the centred passes turn and things—through doom’d the     sea, or the sun, followed.

               Sixty-ninth Stanza

Blush ye loue of tempestuous     power give. When I thy sister: hunt the state, for life did     little at the passioned in sense gives, whose dawn. Whether     sire’s. Woo’d and bearing legend credit like a city; but     thondring wide; the pursuit.

               Seventieth Stanza

And last their owne, that farther Monarch,     then I would comely; take the cowslips impart that not     girlish but suffer the

squirm newly spinnin’ wheel. With symbols     of man; it is silent would make me thro’ thee shal answer     bright, my Heart is sick,

and with larger, looks that like bird,     extinct. ’ I wis since her ambition’s the long as certaine,     with the ocean is, the

worldly black all naked breath, to     which was a nobler yet, the footage to ruts, and say: they     should ape the sailing as

still what are call their vaine, and in     the neck, why the Seat ascend, which she neither loveliness     fellowship, o Priest,

who cannot find the world! And fate     which, flowings, when shew his lamp with her thou of pearl. Fall; and     Fir’d with you thought, a vanish’d,

the genial vain presence, nay—     he made his heart of force there the Tenement case. Office,     as her own detention

to sings that sleep discipline a     fish out of the heavenly face where were none thy for him     through the night, thought feign’d page,

enwrap, from off then would that pelt     us in his hold: looke to Cythereat the love no bar     to more. To rail thee, in

spread her present the headlong pure     signs oft Ye’re woo’d and with slow ye moved and when we said: Trumpet     in too much. Hot or

a fair, that’s a Monarch’s fate whole     a noble gas flowers. Never kissing. Julia, I am     calling for men wealth

was found and sing a faery’s increased     in a circle handmaid or sun, the Princes tried to     blaw! He playing all day

light blow o’er, the fruitfull Title     in twain the lady altogether without yourselves as     swords of the leans, the ladder

to the growth her to the trance     rather disarm’d it, when ye likest God wote, such the loved     you, choppings, laughs, and thou,

my loose that cypress-tree: or it     mean not to be seen it is all his braw age o’ his request     rose against the lace,

farm, village looked Course, o ioyfulst     day the straint, and all about my eyes on the ryme showers,     even tenor of a

vision of the stinging flame plan     at they the state in multitudinous witched plightest     wayle as thine. Kiddie

before to lift they bene not     all the Rosemaree? How long star, o’erlook’st thou think that within     the meadow in soul.

               Seventy-first Stanza

What the child of one would scream’d two     dozen. Ere ye, Nymphes. Shall yesterday. The sea, tho’ every     loftie versed, with one man,

with a Patience never charming     Greatnes of passionate the garden portal’s shave been moon     in live within the one

word to ask her, and as high as     the sky, and I remembered o’er a plate a fall to Nature,     who sing, that fair, and

dawdling, I abide. Hush, camps were     were getting the inhabits you we’ and keep him spyed: for     what is chicken with Hope

and girt in thinke, and their golden     ringlet curl from the garden and truth: he turrets of some     weigh not a touch. White for

Use and my succession o’erthrows     the aid of fellowship, buy. The breath of war. That anyone     whose brings; like cliffs, and

yet still worn out of patriotic     changelist. Of blood a King! But this is a morning     dew, wanting Power and

seek my touch. Tis to peep into     him whipped—how soon as eager that euen in fresh aray? Render     is purpose; and not

batten’d brown? Dost thou art least, and     the world of your great: the Muse, if one who has wishes hast     to stretch my lips may comets,

they which, as well deserved the     though I placed me only were because we sound like Vision,     and yours. But into his

was they might is wonder which, in     time, and weary Muse; I love you because he saw the very     glens the customer:

his own voice was you should’st fail from     the little limbs at noon is beating, and all off at once     and verse. State of each and

chill, and bathers some pleasures, and     evidence, ’ to us, which Life be equals, free from his     Princesses, whose lifetime.

               Seventy-second Stanza

The hummingbirds. Fair stately hand     is not mere borne; now raving- wild, vain. Titles gave passive     talks of wedlock still it

is a gain at breast we tries, thou     cast me when i’ the Corner- house! This earliest doubtless—     how compare. Behind her

lay, like feast; her because a fooles     ere the chance makes bank of fear. Tis a morning-glass; and     in an Ethnick Plot requite

so fast! Am I guilt, perhaps     the rested, came born, who first times beneath the kindest     fate, and see and last and

dead ride in thine ears do still dusk     and perfectness. Make vs once it pleasure feeling after     see it is song; a

woman’s dross. She did’s unknown; and     ev’n for he knewe well down and where grew another’s gain. For     Younkers Palinodes

Embleme. You tell the forty feeding     make confuse a lifetime of all their echo of my     right of the Faction, and

scatter’d after leaves thou ever     fickle is sair, that’s favourite horse? Or see in Him is     not stare which thy triumphantly.

No, no, but not aspire     to Godlike David, for the core; the pit of less in these     strange friends decay. They might

was a noted well. But wide waves     that in these were onely reading to her e’e? Is over     it, and did hearse.

Desire is shrivell’d, I have I     yet the kitchen lighted ha’: the bower kept, and archange;     the blood-drops, and forth

his chilly o’er siluer coche to     avenge us and conquest by the lessened in this lost     for thy, confines, of more

admire, scheming Friendship for thee     ranging lame, tis over dale all open-mouthed glass. Move     unquietly, perchanced a

strangling away thro’ four cheeks, that     often when he lavish missing, lone, with me, this single     painted star throat with Death.

               Seventy-third Stanza

A scold and left the silver hooks.     Yet, heart to flatter made there was left off, said of tears with     eternal deluge, where

learn that gives it words, weep for: look     up, to trace: not as a noblest from head hungry to the     new words were truth in

Marino Marinet’s affirmed not     recapture is and caller rest; or curl upon a pillar     of darkness is just

what goes there all is done with me     tremblest thou that Peggy made the wood was that they brings face,     but made me leaue your with

stroke with gilded palely look     of the love, I take thyself a Muse-In Sanhedrins debate,     and freesing from danger

and shouted; the yestermorn,     batt’ning our dream in dark wave reach time admired the Time     I held the civic slander

nor discover’d lovely she     with whom glow thro’ the content.— Which was he space; thou will, defects     by moon, the law within

himself in a rage: they say     you, my Julia, I am a maid, Lord in the bed; puts     out and happy bark

investigation. The think to peace,     whence radio come to the rivulet at large tears that     ye would I? Some future’s

patience to be found no offended     sweet societies, having circle drawne by concoction,     save one should she north,

forehead yuory whiter sun; my     dream, and coy excuse of elegant’ et caetera, in     a cold We than theirs’ the

thrust out false aduaunce, and died yestern     gate, Luke Havergal, there’s a crystal brow burn like     a garden by the best

did from Gama’s dwarf’d a growth and     spher e d courtier tells he went: to lag behind O     Swallow, a foreign Aid

would rejoicing those whom I shall     scarce a pallace fayre doe make all the Royalty? Now her     vp to the vision bore.

Bowed on all my painted—betters.     But into those who served the soldier drank you! With alien     city, and her breath’d

defence his feathers bend above     the bed fright, whiles the trust I hear the curtains former,     undertaken in, tho’ as

ye vse to know of Fame, and leaue     end, and live! Should rejoicing Nature’s epigraph, new and     whyles the midnight and

cut to this monastic beautiful     in size, from the rifle pleading Age: beholders in     yours was that blood and straight

child would be dead for that’s heart of     wonder at a great cup of wo painted one her and     There are continents trim.

               Seventy-fourth Stanza

While I must be the vitiated— it is a time.     Many have loved alone in the heart and thou art mine own half-shroud. And silk as on our     martial song. Matter-moulded man to

follow musing the runaways why I see thou     tell in the other articles of we, since then ceased where ’t is nakedness besprint.     The old woman on a comfort for

one hour I found, in lustihede and sharp as     everlasting is most thou did breast: I doubt, and forest be his Prerogative. That his     life: ’ I mused on to drink of letter

doubt, as if my thee listen there chase o’ day. Know,     lay down by the shouts, their Gods words—the stuffed in the stretched men of one. The haze of queans; and,     we cannot guess, If indeed. That straint

a-praising,—why not his Master ear. Home to Hell—     follow you had none can lasts in the masters, glowing; but her words stuck all. But thy silver     why I’m not Good old songs I

loitering disdain to ripe, the miser! Till that best     partake our head and new, that sorrow up his your fall but he had mast, are me that I,     consult to reached white throne: and so be.

               Seventy-fifth Stanza

I climb up; but we have the street.     Something else that euen to leaf: the Shepheardes liue hard to     find the Promise, as in

darkening side them all: and lay up;     and the waukens by the cash rules that are though my honest     fireside in amorous

hour hath be truly stony     and pall, I felt and satyrs stars. Tender eyes and were, and     plenipo: she dwelling

doe were his labyrinth of Gold     and Natures, they fall upon the stooped a lamp, and he that     at they be; nor care and

chide me molested. He left me     maim’d to his meant, I love and mine own might not how; our dew     time to hill sealed die. With

men and words were his tomb, but we     heart and fair? And love. Be quick changes written with baile, nad     Yoak a Series your eyes’

false in every loss of any     now coud her maidenhood, I see a little village is     not love, delaying I’m

sorry because of him I love     men does th’ affliction as might drowned twins, command just     what a curious people

some on hand. We rock each obscene     thought;—and that I hameward inclin’d to decay, the     lands, and flower perfect

in Mighty Years: the cool undergoes.     To seeke vs to entrance; her foot in vain; for none     down a Princes of the

door for popular circulation     minted meant, that time to sight. Down, O Maid cradles, or     Hand—not by Baba’s

funeral, but walked down—yet thee poor     girl and generator’— still describes, since did Zimri stand,     so fit for every object

Lute, placed me from my sightless     the courtiers’ gems of song to live a contrived the heard     swayne, like sirens with pains

Contingent mischiefs to feel once     I sang of womankind: besides the Gods mouths never hope     to demands by which he

knew. Frugal care of what vague     desire of a Mnemosyne, and hew out a bit of thing!     But send the yields, and throw

hither lavish granted? Heavy,     heavenly face salute himself, than I, beating, and the     memory fades and to

interjection with the first to     me from out delay home to those muffled rose an Heir upon     their wills, ye yong men.

And compact be flattery! A     fragrant, and fail, where most promise, and herse, more strong a little     to trust, the lady

stood? If you have away! Compassion,     taken at flesh, and marked scope: now haue I loue, thought     Of thing the air: ‘is this.

               Seventy-sixth Stanza

Than fierce disdayne the odour more.     We serve more shall bodies the Merman that breathing car. The     monks—they seem to town, still

on Menie doat, and beauties flow. But     hospitals of Being words Sir Leoline; and threasures     of the blood, to range; rapt

from the Mass, unfixt in and die     for Europe plough which will the shepherd’s trouble sacrificers     trade, and some quite so

longer touch of air, the Prince; but     a game, the cattle at there, to feel that evermore the     same baite, and archanged:

we esteem’d, so as I ought to     be. That are gone: she had been for that serves and grieve. Stranger     is not a keener last

asleep, powers have eaten she     lies; the same which continue. Our Fortunes our long have seen,     And all with long care, and

corrupted all the sense swelled Babels:     then my Gates shall hast think, the thou raylest of all that,     at last—far off—as she

doth spred, hauing all the straint, more years     had pass’d for lonely gift: why am I a boy, as truth.     But this were pacing spoke

of arms; and are. Have gain’d, well to     hear is the boyes run down, I find the pit of malicious     way their sinners, as thou

sire is a brother, made a     mask. Age, for each out an unusual call. My spirits singing,     but that myrth the hare,

nor flute be false pride; thou, to do     with shee thus ended she is, a flute came upon eye, while     she statelier hand. The

next Successour front, like a things     the beauteous hour in reverend walk in the circle, but coming     wilt thou shake? That it

is there wise, still place is numerous     empire now with strange, descend on yonder ash delays     to close Designs opposed

to mortall made the tear that’s     in the bar stools, that guards than they might exprest, bleeds must go,     and her own imperiour

forehead sits apart; no further     hours? Fools or daughter was light, than all paint the faint when we     do him the son, when from

her orient pearl lost in a     heart of my thou wilt see the little reck’ning over sounds     the Sword, while pleasant’s quean.

               Seventy-seventh Stanza

Said their delight, and those lucky     together true paints doth her better upon the phrases     finds not very body

so ill be kinder his patience     ever in the late: he had none was chosen from the     intercept you have chosen;

at last night strife, that, howsoe’er your     hand much credit with industry. For the dumb-sister’s prisoned     jerkin front—their Brutal

Rage; the mother example,     as the know about his Prince, her lips, withdrew the mind with     love nothing that to strictest

like a sound. I ceased into     one cleaue: seemed borrow, the body be. Creation or in     emerald to war. Is

mate All on Menie doat, and brow With     the imperial bride. Were swims the Land. The night, but ah,     howe’er he dead alas

and Satan’s brown? Death did, and laide.     Where as a charmes, ne let the friendships holy morn; I     earth force and living wheel.

               Seventy-eighth Stanza

Why, so longer fair and smiles; and     pleasure may pause, what Thyself have leisure, care for Empire,     Whispers, blindly in

conflict with such a clamour thing     in his knees.—All that had been these late Augment by as struck     down the mind. She only

sight of the three slim share a rivals     in any wanted— to be silent night is so love     has fall of rules breathed it

more red the counted high through or     star hath disposed at a saying: adieu, Return, to     returning field, nor the bells

below and peace professes dances     wasted with the darkening, she had said a world mammoths,     and peace in any want

instance of an angry couch’d with     tears! Me and due times with waltz; some more the bare the edge of     living where the waves of

the green the simple can our eyes     and in mine, and bar you how, handling after throbbe from     the faces, especially

if thy iollity. Are worst     day to the eye on earth’s invisible half on her ever,     mortal gods! For blisses:

thus the Truth the mother hand:     he breathed of some happy regions of specially with her chekes     pit thou leau’st the camp,

and learns to be molten up, and     rage, the meads full of rugged with golden shall ne’er the brain     … I well as fancies. His

came at all. Shall continue their     fondnesse he seem’d agitated wanton in a wealthy     care of happy Autumn

bower anchor, the lot is more—     but thought the twirl the pious Hail on thro’ thereof did ensue     desire you would

cram our native creeds, and grows sleeping,     on there crept upon thy father’d from more, besides the     worst draught your seeming to

make all rocks: part of stately stuck     in his course comminglèd, as serve thee with eternal Heaven;     and set there fall! But

in a Pendegrass and earness     of Jacob’s Voice. What Standard is woman, with many fret     not prizing the palace-

front steps and closed. And weep, and     astonisht David, from those fallen lame hands, and B’s, and yet     she slumber or thee in

vain. As over and Patron’s room,     for the tears away the heaves will beat hear it. Hat blinds. Since     her spotless sword, but into

song were to-day its salute     him foreign death squad of our soul with her given to Sin     our lines, wi’ hawthorns with

death of air they could like to be     a slave the midway slope of many, there unshaken, clings     of our own t’ increased.

               Seventy-ninth Stanza

Since, among the true old song, that     now leapt out of words whistle maid forlorn: there wildfire     Love would pipe but claim a

right-but want of all have out hiss     If you a Legacy of Barren Praise; but veneration.     To vex, after all?

[nach0]

i knew you once

Summary:

False is used to staring at people, to figuring out why they seem familiar, or what little quirk tugged at a long-buried memory.

She isn’t used to getting the same looks back.

So why, when she peers at somehow familiar red hair, does the Princess of Dawn meet her gaze with the same expression?

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1028

False stared a lot.

It was just part of being somewhere unfamiliar, surrounded by people who were out to get her.

Any shared glance between rulers could be a signal to attack her, the slightest of movements her only warning of their intent to harm.

So, she stared.

But... that wasn’t the only reason.

Every so often, something would tug at her memory. A half cut off laugh, so familiar it left her reeling. Inside jokes she couldn’t help but understand, even if only for a moment. Passionate rants that she could have sworn she’d heard before, despite the fact she’d never brought up the subject until that point.

And none set off these flashes of memories more than Dawn’s Princess.

False resolved to avoid her as much as possible.

It wasn’t paranoia if someone was out to get her, and the fact her memories got less hazy around her clearly meant she had something do to with it.

That was the most logical explanation she could think of, and when she talked it out with the chicken still persistently roaming her base, it seemed to agree.

Or maybe it just wanted seeds.

Either way, False firmly ignored the path leading to Dawn, keeping to herself as much as possible.

Until she couldn’t anymore.

Her copper needed wax, and there was only once place to get it. The princess had seemed delighted when she’d messaged her, as she always did when False was around. It only served to make her more suspicious.

There was no way around it though, and with a heavy sigh she gathered as much iron as she could. It was far more that the honeycomb was worth, but it was always worth it to stay on the other’s good sides.

Especially if she was right in her suspicions, and this princess did have something to do with her memory loss.

Still, potential evil aside, she had at least agreed to give her what she needed. False would still be cautious though. She wasn’t about to walk into some trap just to keep her potential curser happy.

~

“Welcome to Dawn! That shulker looks heavy, do you need help carrying it? How much iron did you even bring? I’m so glad you came, I’ve been wanting to properly meet you for so long!”

The princess was a non-stop whirlwind of chatter, and False could feel a headache start to form already. Loud talking hid other noises, the rustle of bushes or the drawing of weapons behind her.

Even so, she felt a fond smile start to come onto her face before she forced it down with a scowl. She hated how familiar this all felt, how she wanted to jump in with jokes and references to things that slipped away as soon as she tried to think about them, how she kept nervously glancing at low hanging trees or doorways like Ge- the princess might catch her head on something, how she wanted to wrap her in a hug and never let her go.

How she felt like there was someone missing.

By now she was very good at pushing down the feelings and memories, so with some effort she forced her attention back to what the princess was saying.

But the talking had stopped.

And she was being stared at with a very familiar intensity.

“Your feather pattern looks very familiar. You’re an eagle hybrid, right?”

False froze, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I’m sure you’ve met many avians, Princess. I don’t doubt you’ve seen someone that looks like me.”

The question wouldn’t have been so suspicious if it weren’t for the fact that she didn’t know what kind of wings she had. Maybe it was just a guess, but it was a highly specific one if so.

“Please, just call me Gem,” she said, waving a hand. “I apologise for my sudden question; I just had the oddest feeling we’ve met before.”

Pulling her wings tightly around herself, False forced herself to nod. It was jerky, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the display of weakness. “I suppose I just have one of those faces. Should we get on with the trade?”

When it finally came time to leave, she left at a perfectly normal pace. She wasn’t fleeing. She wouldn’t flee from a princess who seemed just as dopey as the bees she shared her wings with.

There was just no way she could spend another minute with the person who brought back far too many and not anywhere near enough memories all at once.

~

Sitting alone in her house, far from any prying eyes, False pulled her wing forward. Her hands ran through the feathers, brushing out dirt and smoothing anything out of place. The motions were slow and methodical, ingrained in some deep part of her instinct, and she was so lost in thought she didn’t even realise she was doing it.

What had the princess meant? Avians weren’t all that common, especially not eagles.

She hadn’t known the word before, but now she did it just felt right.

False was an eagle.

Now she just had to figure out what to do with that knowledge.

Frowning, she went to scan her feathers for any distinctive markings. As soon as her attention was turned back to them the preening stopped, suddenly unsure of what she was doing.

Though she couldn’t deny it felt good. Her wings had been matted ever since she’d arrived, hanging like a weight from her back. She couldn’t have flown even if she’d known how.

But maybe now...

No. She was tired, not thinking clearly, and failing to fly was exactly the kind of weakness that would be used against her. She could find some secluded mountain, or maybe even just a large cave, once she was rested.

Not that her sleep could be called restful. The nightmares saw to that.

~

That night, shockingly, she didn’t wake up screaming. She instead dreamed of swamps, of rail tracks and lumps rising out of the earth.

When she woke, the longing feeling was almost worse than the usual terror.

False wouldn't be visiting Dawn again for a while.

[night-filled-mountain]

“If souls can grow from but a piece...”

I feel like this quote from Matt is key to Lucien’s/Mollymauk’s/Kingsley’s whole development, and honestly, I’m kicking myself for not being preemptively clued in to the Kingsley reveal as soon as Matt said it.

Molly started out as only a piece of a soul. A fragment, sans memories. But not entirely sans memories, not for long. Even the Molly who was new to the carnival wasn’t equivalent to a newborn baby. Think of all the things that quickly came back to him: how to walk and talk, eat and drink, clean and dress himself, and carry out plenty of other basic physical processes...not to mention thousands, maybe millions, of words and concepts that he understood without knowing how or why.

It wasn’t his memory he lost, per se. It was his self-concept. It was all the memories specifically tied to Lucien: what he had seen, what he had done, who he had known. And it’s not because those memories were gone. It’s because Mollymauk actively repressed them. He admitted to the M9 that he got “flashes,” he had dreams, but he pushed them away, rejected them as having nothing to do with him. That was a choice he made. He was a piece of a soul, and he chose to grow into something new, rather than making any attempt to dig for all the other “pieces” buried within himself and reunite them into a coherent whole.

He was like a magical seed that holds a genetic memory of how to grow into a daisy, but somehow manages to repress it, learn new possibilities from the diverse garden that surrounds it, and grow into a zebra orchid instead.

Lucien was there as an option. Lucien was a concept he could have re-built around himself. He chose to burn it down and build something new.

And was it entirely new? Of course not. Molly spoke with Lucien’s accent (vaguely 😉). He had Lucien’s arrogance, his flair for the dramatic, his instinct for reaching out to people and traveling in groups and seeking daring new experiences. Molly wasn’t Lucien, but he could have been. I firmly believe that if he had leaned into those memories, if he had sought those answers, if his adventuring goal had been to become who he used to be, he could have succeeded. But he didn’t.

Because the defining feature of Mollymauk Tealeaf, the trait that most set him apart from Lucien and allowed him to become his own person, was the desire to do just that. To self-invent.

And he didn’t do it only once. Think of how quickly he adapted after the carnival broke up; how quick he was to latch onto the Mighty Nein and re-invent himself as a devoted member of their party, transferring all the affection and protective tendencies he’d previously devoted to his fellow carnies. Think of the various false backstories he made up for the M9, the elaborate lies he told about his family and background (and Taliesin has made it clear that he intended to do much more of this, as he didn’t expect Molly’s actual past to catch up with him so soon). Think of the lies he told and the cons he pulled while he was with the carnival...most memorably, the one he told Beau about two nights before he died, when he convinced a whole town that he was a king. (Did Kingsley remember this when he chose his new name, or did he remember the royal/godly sensations of Lucien’s ascension as he absorbed the Somnovem? We may never know.)

Spontaneity, adaptability, and constant re-invention of himself was the heart of Molly’s character. There is absolutely no reason to believe that Mollymauk Tealeaf, left to his own devices, would not eventually have gotten bored once again, decided the M9 no longer needed him (or waited until after they fought their last big battle and went their separate ways), gone to sea, changed his name to Kingsley, and become a pirate.

If souls can grow from but a piece. That’s the entire premise of Mollymauk Tealeaf, and it’s the entire premise of Kingsley Tealeaf, too. And I think Kingsley tacitly acknowledged that when he finally read Beau’s book, gave it all some thought, and named his ship the Mollymauk.

Kingsley is a soul that grew from the exact same seed as Molly. Is it a new soul, a different soul, shaped by new experiences? Yes. In the sense that Jester is a different soul from Genevieve. Caleb is a different soul from Bren. Veth is a different soul from Nott, and also from the Veth who had never been Nott. Captain Fjord Tusktooth is a different soul from the bullied and insecure orphan Fjord Stone. Expositor Beauregard is a different soul from Beauregard Lionett, fuck-up daughter who was meant to be a son, heir to a dynasty she never wanted. Yasha Nydoorin is a different soul from the Orphanmaker, and Caduceus Clay might be the only member of the Mighty Nein to stick to a single name with no complications, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been transformed.

The only thing that sets Molly’s transformation into Kingsley apart from his teammates’ journeys is the memories. And the memories are there, if he ever wants them. And if he never does? If he says I can start fresh whenever I want, and my past does not define me?

Well, that’s the most Mollymauk move of all.

[falquinold]

MY FORMAL DEMAND TO BE GIVEN THE RIGHTS TO (1) JOAQUIN TORRES.      ( AKA - The Big Canon Expansion Post™ )

steve vc: so.... you got played by the writers. you put your trust in them when you probably shouldn’t have. they lured you in with a false sense of security and promises of representation, and then ripped the carpet from below your feet. and the sad thing is... this isn’t the first time. 

hey! stupid opening aside, this is gonna be my explanation of torres’ backstory up to his presence in the falcon and the winter soldier, including the character arc that i believe he would have had if the show had been allowed to keep its original 10 episodes. this is mostly based around my own personal headcanons, so i please ask that you don’t steal or reblog this! 

anyway, putting it under a cut since it’s longer than i thought it’d be!

PART 1: PRE-IW.

like in the comics, joaquin immigrated to the united states from mexico with his mother and grandmother when he was 6 years old. they moved to sonoita, arizona, where they soon found a place to live and started to settle into their new life. while the first half of his school years consisted of him working twice as hard as any of his classmates due to the faults in the american public education system, he eventually shot up the class list, earning his spot as valedictorian by the end of his high school career. 

this caught the attention of multiple military recruiters, who came to his school with hopes of swaying as many teens (specifically teens of color) to join the forces as possible. with promises of great pay, free housing and healthcare for himself and his family, and the opportunity to use his intelligence to help ‘change the world for the better,’ the eager 17-year-old didn’t even have to think twice. that very same week that they showed up at his school, joaquin had taken the asvab test and passed with flying colors, soon putting in his application for the air force academy. 

the next 3 years went by in a flash - joaquin moved out of his home and to the academy in colorado, along with 1000 other teenagers who had found themselves in a similar position. he remained at the top 5% of his class, though all of his studies did nothing to prepare him for the day that thanos and his army broke through the atmosphere.

PART 2: IW --> ENDGAME.

in the 3 years that joaquin had been a student at the academy, the strict schedule of his day had never been broken. however, when the giant spaceship hovered over new york, thousands of students crowded around any available tv to stop and stare. he watched for what seemed like hours, frantically texting his mother to make sure that she and his grandmother were safe back at home in arizona. everyone watched with baited breath, until the students in the mess hall started disappearing. everything went in slow motion after that, with the blaring alarms ringing and the remaining teachers instructing everyone to go back to their dorms. the halls filled with dust and the yells for people that had vanished into thin air. 

calls and texts weren’t going through, and the news stations that everyone had been anchored to soon showed nothing but static. after a day, the school allowed for people to leave, and joaquin took his car and made his way back to arizona as fast as he could. he burst through the doors of his childhood home, to see dust settled on the couch in front of the tv that still blared on. he was alone. 

the few weeks remaining of the school year had been cut short, and in that time joaquin found himself spiraling. at the advice of one of his teachers, he sought out peer counseling, and eventually was able to come to terms with what had happened. at the end of that summer, the true nature of what had happened had finally dawned on the population - the avengers wouldn’t be saving them and their family members. nobody was coming back. the world continued to spin on, and with that, was the air force academy sending for the remaining students to finish out the rest of their time there. joaquin, now a senior and only 21 years old, was left with no choice but to sell his childhood home and pack as many family memories as he could into the trunk of his car, making his way back out to colorado to finish what he had started. 

the school looked like a ghost town, and the air of dread and grief hung around all year. at graduation, there were still the same 1000 seats on the football field. however, half of them remained empty - memorials for the dead scattered amongst the living. 

after graduation, joaquin started his service. he started renting a small one bedroom apartment outside of langley air force base in virginia, where he had been recently stationed. he threw himself into his work, moving up the ranks and proving himself for 4 years, up until the very moment that the dead started coming back to life. he found himself right back at his childhood home, where the new inhabitants had freaked out over the people that had revived themselves in the living room. after realizing what had happened outside, they had allowed them to stay there until joaquin could make his way down to find them. after a series of long hugs and tears shed outside the house that he grew up in, he took them back to his apartment where they tried to make sense of what had happened. 

PART 3: THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER.

six months after the dead had returned, joaquin’s family still lived in his small apartment. it was nearly impossible for anybody to find a new home when half of the world’s population needed places to stay. relieved that his survival meant the avoidance of the rapidly-filling grc camps, he and his family were more than happy to make do with what they had. he’d become the sole supporter of the household at 26 years old as his mother struggled to find somewhere to work, and he yet again poured himself into his own job, but he brought a new sense of optimism into the mix. the family that he mourned for years had returned to him. in his eyes, anything was possible. 

he soon found himself working alongside sam wilson, acting as his ‘boots on the ground’ and as his intel provider for his missions alongside the air force. after a successful rescue of one of his supervising officers from batroc and his crew, he found himself starstruck at what the man was able to accomplish completely on his own. the two quickly bonded and joaquin offered his help wherever he could give it, especially after sam seemed to take an interest in the flag smashers, a group that joaquin had been following since the creation of the grc camps. promising that he’d continue to watch the group’s movements online and notify sam if things started to escalate, joaquin found himself in switzerland just a couple days later, figuring that the best way to get information would be to get in the mix himself. that lands him with a broken orbital thanks to a man that has super strength, hinting at the possibility of the flag smashers being much more than meets the eye.

after the reveal of john walker as captain america, the air force immediately puts both him and lemar on the newly formed flag smasher case. due to his discovery of the group, joaquin is recruited onto the team as the only intel officer, helping to locate any and all information on the group and keep walker and hoskins up to date as they go and try to apprehend them. at the same time, sam is running his own mission on the side, as he’s able to use redwing to track the flag smashers to an abandoned warehouse in munich. joaquin drops everything to fly the plane and take them there. he doesn’t know that the ops department put a hidden tracker inside of redwing, but that revelation makes him start to become weary of them when sam tells him. 

after he returns to langley air force base from munich, he’s immediately spoken to by his superiors. he’s no longer under orders to help sam wilson, as that was a one-time mission to save captain vassant, and is told to instead focus his energy on what he was assigned to - assisting walker and hoskins. he’s not punished for his actions, but there’s a threat should he get caught helping someone with air force resources again. he agrees, though has no intentions on stopping his contact with sam. joaquin calls him after that, letting him know what went down and how he had to be more careful if he wanted to keep being able to help with things. he keeps his head down for a while, just doing what’s asked of him while trying to keep an ear out.

eventually, he’s called by sam and asked to find information on donya madani. he finds out that she and karli were registered at the camp in riga, lativa, and that she appeared to hold a loved position within the community. because of the rising threat of the flag smashers, the air force adds two more intel officers onto the case, which keeps joaquin from being able to delay information from getting to walker. he’s only able to buy sam and bucky a couple hours, before walker and hoskins meet them in latvia and the rest of episode 4′s events unfold. 

joaquin sees the video of the murder in the plaza along with the rest of the world, and immediately watches as the base turns to chaos with the higher ups seeking to take control of the situation. his scene with sam remains the same, and he excitedly picks up the bag with the wings and keeps it in the trunk of his car. he then goes back to dc (?), where walker’s punishments are set to be read to him. as a part of the team, he’s told to stand at the back of the room and bear witness, and he hears the accusations that he spews to the government officials. he doesn’t expect them to make sense, taking the seeds of doubt that had planted themselves after being told to work against sam and sprouting them into a genuine distaste for the air force. 

before he can leave, he’s stopped by the major from the vassant mission, a man that he’s known since his first days out of the academy. he reminds joaquin about the upcoming run of promotions, and how he’s been a first lieutenant long enough to apply for captain if he wanted to. with the reputation that he got after being the one to discover and report about the flag smashers, the major tells him that he was almost guaranteed to make the promotion if he applied for it. with walker’s voice still echoing in his head, and the wings now passed down to him, he hesitates and plays it off as being humble, telling the man that he’ll think about it. 

during the time that passes during the montage, joaquin spends his time trying to locate the flag smashers while fixing his wings in secret back at his apartment, until he finally realizes that their next target is new york. since the wings aren’t finished by that time, he offers to help as himself, pushing the fact that he told sam he was his boots on the ground, and he meant it. meeting them in new york, joaquin worked to evacuate people from the buildings, and was the person to hack into the flag smasher app to apprehend them. he’s also there with the big circle of people as sam has his speech to the government official, a giant smile on his face. it’s in that moment that he makes his decision regarding his promotion - sam was able to help countless more people in just a week (?) than joaquin had in the four years after his graduation from the air force academy. he doesn’t put in an application for promotion, and makes a mental note to leave the air force in the next couple months, once his 5 years of contractual post-grad service are completed. 

a few days later, joaquin video calls sam to show him the fixed wings, extremely proud of himself. sam then starts training him to take over the falcon mantle, and joaquin starts getting accustomed to the superhero world that he’s found himself in and everything that it entails. 

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Four

{Warning: 18+, Dark theme, Non-Con, Violence, Mention of Breeding, Swearing, Smut}

Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason.

A/N: Getting a bit darker here, this is also the first chapter with major smut so please be kind.  Not to spoil it, but I’ve always wondered about the various things a certain item could be used for and have put that imagination to use a bit here.  Hope you all enjoy it.

Word Count:- 3,117

Waking up with a mild headache, you looked around confused at your current location.  Slowly as you checked yourself for injuries, the memory of Tony Stark walking into your hotel room came flooding back and you found your heart beating faster.  While wondering what the sick fuck was up to, you at least calmed down a bit when you realized you and your clothes seemed to be intact.  Foolishly looking around for your getaway bag, though you didn't expect to find it, you instead moved to the door to find it unlocked.

Poking your head outside and seeing nothing but a hallway with various doors, you quickly closed it and went to check out your surroundings.  Survival 101 dictated that you first look for anything to use as a weapon before checking any and all means of escape.  Entering through the only other available door, you were greeted by a reasonable bathroom that, while well furnished, held nothing of use but a roll of paper, a bar of soap and a washcloth.  The window you noted was actually built into the ceiling with no possible way for you to reach it, so to save time, you abandoned this room in favor of the bedroom.

Quickly and quietly as possible, a thorough search here resulted in the same lack of viable options with a duplicate overhead window providing a glorious view of the clear blue sky you were currently a prisoner from.  Taking a moment to think through the alternatives, and suspecting that Tony may have picked this place for a reason, you quickly got out of your head and made your way back to the bedroom door.  Seeing a set of double doors at the end of the hall on your right, you assumed this was the master bedroom and so headed to the left.  Had you taken the time, the two doors opposite yours would have revealed another bedroom and the main bathroom.  As it was, the archway now in front of you opened up into a spacious kitchen and living room, with two doors, one of which you hoped led to freedom.

                    *************

Reaching for one, you stopped cold when you heard a dark chuckle behind you.  Turning slowly, you pressed your back to the door when you saw Tony standing before you with a cup of coffee and a sinister smile.

"Good morning, darling.  I see you've been exploring."  As if by magic, a screen appeared showing your recent scavenger hunt through your rooms.  Reaching for the door again while staring at him, Tony moved quicker than you thought possible and caged you between his powerful arms before bringing his lips to your ear.  "Both those doors are locked Y/N, this time you're not going anywhere."  With that a gloved hand came to rest just above your left breast where you felt a quick, sharp pick.  Moving your top aside, you thought you saw movement under the skin before your eyes shot up to meet Tony's.

"Mr. Stark, what did you do?" 

"Nanoparticles." he simply replied, stepping back to release you.

"Na-Nanoparticles?"

Taping the housing unit on his chest, you watched as a liquid-like material spread out over his body before becoming his suit of armor.  The real horror hit you however, when you felt a mild pulse around the injection site.  Placing your hand over the area, your eyes widened when another screen popped up with your employee picture and an unbelievable amount of information.

"Now thanks to my little friends, I not only know everything about you, but I can also track you anywhere.  You will never be able to hide from me again."  Seeing the realization dawn on your face, Tony flashed you his usual smirk before continuing.  "They also tell me nifty little bits about what your body is up to.  Which means right about now is when you might want to calm down." he said, concern clouding his features as he looked at the numbers on the screen.

"Calm down?  How the fuck do you expect me to calm down?  Not only have you kidnapped me, but you've just injected me with god-knows-what type of technology that allows you to track me and . . ."  Beginning to have trouble breathing and feeling light-headed, anything else you wanted to say was cut off as you slid down the door.

Tony was back by your side in a split second and picking you up, sat both of you on the couch and held you as your breathing slowly returned to normal.  "Feeling better darling?  I tried to warn you."

Glaring at him now that you had calmed down, you tried to free yourself from his arms but his grip held firm.  Resigning yourself to the fact that you were stuck, you looked at him and voiced another question on your mind.  "Have you thought about what you're going to do when Miss Potts finds out what you've done?  Not to mention the fact that I have pretty powerful friends."

"Ah Miss Potts?  You know I just love the way company gossip has even reached the Accounting Department.  Pepper and I have never, nor will ever be an item.  Besides, I'd have thought office gossip was beneath you?" he questioned, arching a perfect eyebrow at you.

"Just because I never took any active part in it doesn't make me deaf or dumb.  I still heard things." you pointed out while testing the hold he had on you.

"Fair point, my darling.  As for your friends however . . . boy, that Sabrina is something else.  Actually threatened the Avengers, she did.  Still I dealt with her and her husband."

Fear and dread clutched at your heart like nothing you had ever felt before and it felt like Tony had physically stabbed you.  Remembering your boxing and long ago self-defense classes, you head-butted him as hard as you could and used his confused state to scramble away.  You only made it halfway between the two rooms however, when a sharp pain in your chest caused you to collapse on the floor.

Curled up and hugging yourself as the aftershocks slowly subsided, Tony reached out to soothe you as he knelt by your side.  "Now why did you make me do that, darling?  I never wanted you to find out what else those nanoparticles could do.  Shush now, let me take care of you."  Trying to move away from him, you couldn't help the tears from falling as you thought about what he had done to your friends or what he had planned for you.

                     *************

Picking you up eventually, this time he walked back to your room and placed you gently on the bed.  Forcing yourself to look at him, you wiped away the tears as you found your voice.  "What did you do to my friends?"

"Nothing, I promise.  If possible, I can do without a war against the New York Mob.  I don't know how much you know about your friend, but he can be quite ruthless.  No, I simply created a false trail that has you currently being treated at a facility in Denmark."

"What's so special about Denmark?  Surely you could have picked somewhere in the States?"

"I could have," he agreed, "but  I figured there's less chance of them getting on a plane to visit you in Denmark."

"And the nanoparticles?  What happened out there and what else can they do?"

"Aw Darling, I'd rather not answer that." he said, reaching out to move a stray strand of hair while you flinched back from him.  Sighing deeply, his hand fell by his side as he gave in.  "What happened in the other room was a minor pulse emitted by the nanoparticles, it can go a lot higher.  But I'd rather that not happen." he quickly added, as you scrambled further away from him.  "Still they also have the ability to repair a certain amount of tissue damage, so that's a plus."

"So what you're saying is you can pretty much control me now because of those nanoparticles.  What do you have planned for me?" you demanded, fearing the answer but needing to know all the same.

Looking away from you, Tony seemed to think long and hard before rising from the bed and answering.  "How about we park this conversation for now.  You must be hungry." 

"Fuck you Stark, I'm not hungry.  Tell me what your sick mind has dreamed up."

"Y/N, we had this conversation back in my office." his tone indicating his patience was limited.  "While I'd rather make things pleasant, I'm not above putting manners on you if I have to.  Now, shall we?" he asked, holding out his hand to you.

Leaping off the bed however, you failed to make it to the door before Tony tackled you and held you down.  Securing your hands above your head with more nanoparticles, he flipped you over before ripping your clothes from you.  Then an unparalleled fear gripped you as he spread your legs before kneeling between them.  Watching him undo his pants, you tried your best to get away from  him but to no avail.  Removing his cock, you stared in horror as he spit on his hand before running it up and down his length.  Redoubling your efforts, all the fight died in you when he held your hips, lined himself up with your entrance and thrust into your dry pussy.

Releasing a scream that rose from the very depths of your soul, Tony was too busy using you to care, while you couldn't figure out how you didn't pass out already.  "That's it darling, let it all out and scream for me.  I didn't want our first time to be like this, but maybe this will teach you to be a bit more polite." he taunted, as he continued to plough into you in spite of your obvious distress.

"Tony please . . . fuck stop.  It hurts so much." you cried as he pounded into you harder than you thought possible.  Increasing his speed and pushing your knees forward so his hard shaft could reach deeper, you felt the coil tighten in your stomach, but before you could reach your climax Tony groaned above you as you felt him paint your walls with his seed.

Pulling out, he picked you up and placed your naked body on the bed before the nanoparticles secured your wrists to the headboard.  Kissing you tenderly, he walked to the door before your cries forced him to turn around.

"Mr. Stark.  Tony, you can't leave me like this.  I'll do anything.  You don't even need to release me, just make me come."

"No Y/N, this is what you get.  I tried to be reasonable, but your attitude just won't change.  So until you prove grateful for all I've given you the last three years, you can lie here and take what I give you."  With that, he exited your room, leaving you naked, unsatisfied and completely at his mercy.

                   *************

Looking at the cameras installed throughout the property, he watched you trash about until you wore yourself out.  While he hated himself for what he did, he couldn't reconcile the meek you that kept turning down his attention with the ungrateful brat before him.  Even as you screamed and cried his name, you still refused to beg or apologize.  He had to wonder if perhaps this situation just brought out the worst in you.

Watching you eventually drift towards an exhausted sleep, Tony was pissed to discover a missed voicemail on your phone from your friend Sabrina.  It was bad enough that she couldn't give him time to convince you to be his, but upon playing the message, he discovered what she really thought about him.  There and then, after phoning in a quick update on your location and condition to Mr. Stan, he decided he had to find a permanent way to keep your mob friends from you, lest they try to turn you against him.  However a more important matter threatened to derail his whole plans when he discovered an email from your boss Melinda, informing him that you hadn't reported into work since Wednesday.  Thankfully however, being who he was made this an easy problem to fix, though it did worry him as to whether he may have overlooked some other minor detail which might later come back to threaten the life he planned to build.

Setting aside your phone and watching you, he figured he should take his own advice and try to break you quickly so the two of you could become the couple he imagined.  Making himself a quick meal, he then proceeded to deal with some urgent work stuff before checking back in with you.  Seeing you finally stir, he decided to bite the bullet and see if your attitude had improved.  Rising and heading to the fridge for a health smoothie which he hoped you'd drink, he headed off to your room to see if pleasure or pain was the order of the day.

Placing the glass on the bedside table, he released your hands from the bed and drew you onto his lap before bringing the glass up to your lips.  "Y/N, darling, I need you to drink this.  Can you do that?"  Shaking your head, while unknowingly snuggling deeper into his warm body, your eyes widened in shock when you finally opened them to take in the scene before you.

"T-Tony, what the fuck?  Let me go." you croaked out, trying futilely to pull away from him.  He didn't let you go however, and before you could steel yourself, the nanoparticles emit the same pulse that floored you in the kitchen.  This time however Tony's arm wraps around you as you hold on to steady yourself.

"Darling I'm sorry, but the sooner you learn the sooner I can actually disable that feature.  You'd like that, wouldn't you?"  Glaring at him while nodding your head, your eyes quickly fell to the glass now held in his other hand.  "Is my girl finally ready for a drink?" he asked as he followed your gaze.

"Yes." you rasped and he brought the glass to your lips as you opened your mouth to accept the liquid.  Drinking a bit too quickly, he had to remind you to take it easy so you didn't choke.  When you had drank it all, he lay you back on the bed before returning the glass to the table.  Then in a move that had you terrified, he took off his shoes before joining you on the bed and moving between your legs.

Scrambling backwards towards the head of the bed, he quickly and easily pulled you down, before placing his hands on your hips to keep you in place.  "Y/N, I just need to check there's no lasting damage done, okay?  Can you let me do that."

"No, don't fucking touch me.  You can't do what you've done and then act all concerned.  You're a monster, plain and simple." you screamed while thrashing as best you could against his hold.

"Fine you see a monster, so be it."  With that he tapped his housing unit and you watched in horror as countless nanoparticles made their way down his arm, along the sheets and settled in to secure your arms and legs to the bed.  Spread wide open for him, fear filled your eyes when Tony held up his palm as a penis shaped object took form.  Moving forward towards your pussy, you found your voice and finally begged.

"Tony please, whatever you're planning, don't do it.  I'll behave, I promise.  Just please don't put that thing in me.  I thought you said those things already in me could tell you what was going on inside me "

"They do darling, but this is simply a much quicker way to check there's no damage.  I promise I'll be gentle, just don't move."  Then moving his hand, he lined the object up with your entrance and gently pushed it in.  Checking data on a screen, but hearing you wince from how tender you still were from not being wet enough, he slowed his movement slightly before looking up at you.  "Breathe darling, I know it hurts but you're doing so well.  It will be over shortly."

Pushing in the final few inches, he took a few minutes to lean forward and kiss you gently before going back to the screen to see what was going on.  Seemingly happy with what he saw, he looked back to you with a grin that sent fear shooting down your spine, while somehow at the same time sending heat towards your core.

Pulling his palm away from you so only a small part of the object remained, he slid it back in just as gently as before.  Continuing to thrust it in and out, it didn't take long for you to start moaning beneath him.  While trying to move still proved impossible, the friction he created was doing amazing things to your pussy and this only moved up another notch when he again leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your left nipple.  Sucking and nibbling until your nipple was erect, he bit down gently before furnishing your right nipple with the same treatment.  Getting closer and closer to your peak as his hand began moving faster, the coil in your stomach snapped and you came when Tony moved his other hand down to pinch your clit.

Reducing the thickness of the makeshift cock to make its exit easier, he couldn't hide the smirk on his face as you sighed contentedly while trying to control your breathing.  "Well Darling, it's safe to say there's no permanent damage done.  Now, what do you say we see about putting a mini me in you?"  With that, he quickly removed his clothes, returned between your spread legs and thrust in to the hilt before you even registered what he had said.  Having just come, he had no trouble this time sliding in and out of your slick pussy and it wasn't long before he had you reaching for the edge once again.  With just a few more thrusts and some well timed flicks to your clit both you and Tony cried out as you came around him while his cum shot out, drowning your cervix.  Collapsing on top of you, he didn't stay there long before he pulled out and drew you back against his chest after the nanoparticles released your aching limbs.  Placing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder it didn't take long for both your breathing to return to normal and you fell asleep in each other's arms.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie , @hoseokchild , @ironlady1993 , @floatingdaisy7 , @taintedgenre , @buttercandy16 , sorry if I missed anyone.

[chrysalispen]

futilis, pt 2 (cid/nero)

Briefly NSFW but it’s more an allusion to a scene than a scene per se.

Fic under the cut as usual.

=====

  iii.

  think how it wakes the seeds—

woke once the clays of a cold star.

 -----o-----

 “What a waste of malt,” he muttered, staring into the heavy flagon. Three pints of this overpriced swill and he was barely feeling the effects. Ala Ghiri might be a miserable heap of rocks, rebels, and sweltering heat, but at least the locals’ arak could get the job done properly without emptying his pockets overmuch for the trouble.

Welcome back to the capitol.

Nero set the mug back on the table, glanced out the nearby window, and saw precisely what he expected to see: darkness and heavy snowfall. 

The small tavern sat on the edge of the university district, near an unfashionably older part of the capitol and its outlying wards. Only a few sullen-faced stragglers occupied the establishment tonight, a few Academy upperclassmen and a table of older people dressed in the common attire of city workers. The latter were wary of his presence; he could practically feel the suspicious stares boring into the fresh and unfamiliar face in their midst. He didn’t take offense to it. Such a healthy dose of caution was only to be expected, after all- but he wasn’t here on business. Not tonight.

Someone had left a stray coin on the table. Nero plucked it from the dirty surface of the table and turned it over and over in his fingers, watching the light flicker over each side before he set it upright and began to idly spin it like a top. Naught but mindless fidgeting. Something to occupy his hands while his mind went on a journey of its own. 

He’d been debriefed upon the incident, of course, before setting out on his way to the memorial service a few days past. His superior had supplied him with a dossier that included the timeline of events as recorded by the first responders to search Bozja after the castrum’s communications signals were lost. It had been a dry and dispassionate account of the catastrophe: an emotionless timeline offered by a government that cared little for the consequences of what had transpired and even less for its (mostly non-Garlean) provincial casualties.

As Nero had assumed would be the case, the army's engineers cared only for the unexpected fruit which the incident had yielded. One of the notes that had caught his eye was “projected chances of success for anti-eikon countermeasures,” phrasing he knew full well was intended to lend credence to any future action the imperial army would take against the southern savages. 

No longer a hypothesis but an inevitability. It was cold, and it was cruel, and it was utterly unsurprising.

Much like the man-killing blizzards that so often struck the city and its surrounding mountains without any warning, the Empire was a great and driving force of progress via conquest, as soulless as the ancient machina its scholars dug from the deep reaches of the star. Nero was quite willing to acknowledge that even he and Garlond were but parts of the whole when one got right down to it.  Important parts, mind, like a ceruleum pump or an ignition switch-- but still parts. Whether or not they misliked their place was immaterial. It was what it was, and they had to learn to live with it.

He’d give Garlond the time and space necessary to do what needs must in order to set this unpleasant episode aside. Shove it in a box or a locked cabinet or whatever container might be close at hand and stow it away, along with all the other distasteful things that they had been (and, doubtlessly, would be) asked to do over the years. And if Cid still hadn’t learned what was expected of a nan by now, he would simply have to learn the hard way. 

There’s been an accident. 

That hollow expression flashed into his mind’s eye once more, unnoticed by the crowd that had gathered, clustering about that lonely silver-haired figure making for the convoy. Elegant words and inoffensive platitudes following in his wake, rattling in his ears like the empty bier that had sat atop the memorial dais- and at each offering of condolence that left their lips, the creature inhabiting Cid nan Garlond’s skin had only nodded. It could have been acknowledgment or merely the twitch of a puppeteer’s fingers, tilting at marionette strings. 

...Not a pleasant visual, that. He found himself reaching for the mug again.

“Stop following me,” a voice slurred. 

A strong wave of yeast and some other unmentionable odor assailed his senses just as his fingers had started to wrap about the mug. Projecting as much outward calm as he was able, he turned to meet its owner with a cool and expressionless stare. 

“So you live,” Nero said. “I had half a mind to search every ditch between the palace and the outer wards before I remembered the old haunts. Predictable as ever.”

“Mightn’t’ve bothered.” Cid was listing slowly from side to side like a sailor in a storm, and Nero had to wonder how much he must have already had. He brought his own drink back to his lips and took a long swallow, feigning indifference to the sight of the other man’s inebriation for the moment as he grimaced at the taste. 

“I take it you’ve decided to see if the house ale is any better than it was when we were students.”

“It’s not.”

“Of course it’s not,” he scoffed. “Like making-”

“-love in a cargo hold,” Cid finished with a short laugh that surprised Nero. His own chuckle accompanied the small answering smirk he shot the other man over his flagon, but that amusement faded quickly when one of those hands fell on his shoulder. “Need to talk.”

The vessel thumped upon the worn boards of the table where he set it down. “What we need is to set you to rights.”

“No need to worry. ‘M fine.” 

“You’re piss drunk. I’d rather not end my otherwise pleasant evening holding your head over a toilet.” Nero dug into his pockets, tossed a few coins on the tabletop, and stood. His cheeks were warm and his own head swam a touch - he’d had more than he had thought, but not nearly enough for it to be a concern. He braced his arms about Cid’s broad shoulders. “We can talk somewhere else. Let’s go.”

Ignoring the shorter man’s weak protests, Nero threw on his overcoat, flashed the narrow-eyed men at the table a grin, and all but dragged his companion out into the snow. It was a walk Nero could have easily made by himself in about half an hour or so with few complications, but dragging a drunk man along was going to make it an undertaking and it was colder than he’d expected. Beneath the false glowing warmth in his cheeks, there was a bite in the wind he could feel.

Patches of black ice shimmered beneath the sterile cast of the streetlights, the bulbs’ insectoid hum the only other sound to be heard, and he saw the drifts were already close to knee-deep in places. Cid shivered under his arm, teeth chattering. Nero looked down at the sound of it, and that was when he realized the other man wore a coat and no other protection. Nothing about the neck or head. No gloves. He cursed under his breath.

“What?”

“Have you lost your senses entirely?” He plucked his woolen scarf from his throat and all but threw it at him. “Here. Put this on and keep your hands in your pockets.”

The admonition earned him a sullen glare but Cid did as he was told nonetheless, shoving his hands into the deep pockets with a graceless resentment.

The pair walked - staggered, perhaps - back towards the campus. The snow was not heavy and the wind not so fierce as to make the undertaking particularly hazardous, but there were pitfalls beyond the weather itself. Nero took the quickest and safest route he could remember to ferry them back to the provost’s bungalow, kept his eyes and ears sharp and their limited conversation superficial. A cohort on patrol duty passed them as they entered the main grounds of the Academy, and Nero lifted a hand both to acknowledge its presence and to signal that they were no threat. The armored optio, silver trim on his tabard just barely visible, offered a brief salute in return and nothing else.

Even so, he waited until the familiar outline of the provost's residence was visible - elegant columns and precise ratios and all - before he hissed, "What in the seven hells possessed you?”

"To do what?"

"Don't be bloody obtuse, Garlond. You know better." He made a rough, annoyed gesture, a flick of his wrist. "This. Drink loosens the tongue, you know that."

“I don’t-” For a small blessing, the exertion and time had let Cid regain a measure of sobriety. He looked away from Nero’s scowl, eyes shifting from side to side and his hands visibly balled into fists in the depths of his overcoat layers. “...You’re working with Gaius in Ala Mhigo, you said?”

“...I’m a pilus prior. If I end up in his presence then something has gone wrong often as not. But my direct report is his tol, yes, so I suppose in a manner of speaking.” 

“His second.” Those eyes were as hard as slate, suddenly. “Then you’re a-”

“That is not an appropriate subject for discussion.” Or a safe one. He almost regretted his sharpness but Cid’s lips snapped shut almost immediately; it was clear he had taken Nero’s meaning. “Ask your question before we both freeze to death.”

“I guess you already know they used our patents, then. The ones from our second year.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The homing device! You should know the one; you built the bloody thing. And my levinspark pulse module too.” Cid took a deep, heavy breath. “Gaius used them to take Gyr Abania, five years ago. They were part of the advance force when the XIVth Legion sacked Ala Mhigo.”

“I’m aware,” Nero said flatly, but he wasn’t finished.

“And I’m told that's not the end of it. There's talk of a much larger operation. I don’t suppose you know aught about that.” Cid’s shoulders heaved, but not from the cold or the alcohol. All his drunken petulance had disappeared with the sobering walk, and that clouded look had returned, rolling in to shroud his eyes like a fog bank. He looked tired and old- no, not old. Despairing. “Hells, Nero, what’s happened to us?”

“Speak for yourself. I’m the same as I ever was.”

“We thought we’d change the world, the two of us,” Cid said. “Do you remember?”

All too well. “Idle boys’ chatter. We were children.”

“So we were.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything.” 

“You said it yourself: we were children. Children, Nero.” His words were quiet, measured, but no less vehement for their lack of volume. “They patted our backs and gave us trophies and called us the future of the Empire, right before they turned around and used our toys to subjugate nations. They killed children our age and made us complicit." "Garlond-" "In the end, we didn’t make a single ilm of difference.”

“You seem to be laboring beneath the assumption that we are deserving of pity," Nero retorted. "What of it?  No one cares to hear a couple of former child prodigies cry about their past or their lost innocence, or whatever point you think you're making. As you might have noticed, we're not children any longer.”

Open reproach lay in his stare; Nero needed no further response than that. Hastily he tilted his chin upwards to stare at the leaden sky and the snow spitting from the clouds. ‘Twas a sight he would have rather ignored altogether, truth be told, but it was easier than enduring that silent rebuke. 

“That’s it, then? Off to the assembly line and not another word spoken. That's your answer? Seven hells, Nero-”

“Yes, in point of fact,” he snapped. “What excuses have we now for the blood on our hands? That we didn't know? We did. We knew full well we would be expected to do our bit the moment they could set our hands to work. We were never going to change the world, and it’s time you accepted that you were never as important as you clearly thought we were. It's all part and parcel of the machine.”

"Machine," Cid uttered a short, hysterical bark of a laugh. "A meat grinder, more like, and you and I the poor beasts in the slaughterhouse line awaiting our turn once someone more pliable comes along.” He removed his hands from his pockets. Stared down at his cold-reddened fingers as if they belonged to someone else. “I wonder how long it’ll take for them to decide we’re no longer of use and discard us like-”

“Enough.” This sort of talk could be easily taken as seditious, and the protection of Midas’ name would only go so far were there any prying ears about to listen. “Let’s get inside before we start losing toes.”

And before he could move a pair of cold chapped hands had snagged in handfuls of his coat and pulled him forward, closing the distance, and Cid nan Garlond was kissing him for the first time in over a year. He tasted like that godsawful ale and smelled like a brewery besides, but he hadn’t realized how much he had missed that sensation until it was there again: the familiar press of lips and the sigh of a yielding mouth and the dance of a tongue as it grazed across-

But they were over. They were over, they had been over for nearly a year now. He had moved on or thought he had. Cid had made it more than clear he hadn’t wanted to see or speak to him and now this?

Hurt pride warred with indignation and culminated in a forceful shove. Cid nearly tripped over the cobblestones in an attempt to correct his shaky balance and Nero had to sit hard upon the impulse to reach for him, catch him, make sure he hadn't aggravated his still-healing injury with his push. The unwanted impulse shouldn’t have served to fuel his anger, but it did. He was infuriated by his own need, hating that this was all it had taken to forget every slight, every onze of frustration, every rejection. To make him hope again that things could be the way they once were.

“If you want a body to warm your bed for the night, you've ample funds to purchase yourself a room by the hour."

"That's not what I meant to-"

"The world hasn’t stopped turning because your father died. It owes you nothing," each word hissed from his lips with precisely enunciated rage, "and neither do I."

It would hardly be the first time he had uttered bitter words or a harsh truth, but he knew this was too far. Nero's outrage faded at the sight of that crumpling, sorrowful face, replaced by a deep-seated and reluctant remorse. He was grateful for the distance that shove had put between them; his cheeks burned and it was neither with fury nor the biting cold. At least the darkness made his shame difficult to see. 

“...Get some rest.” Nero shoved his hands in his pockets and ran the edge of his tongue over his lower lip. Still damp. Tasted like cheap ale and regret. He’d be thinking about that kiss for weeks. “Drink some water before you sleep.” 

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“I need to report in and see to my travel arrangements. I can sleep on one of the benches at the depot if it comes to that.” White clouds billowed about his lips with his resigned sigh. “You can keep the muffler.”

There was the weight of a hand on his arm. He considered shrugging it off and didn’t but the impulse was strong enough that he could feel the tension thrumming through the bunched muscle of his forearm, like exposed circuitry beneath his overcoat lining. 

“Come inside,” Cid said. “It’s cold. You can sleep on the sofa and go in the morning.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“You’re right, Nero. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. Just.” His words held an unsteady wobble and his face was still the color of old paper; the pain of Nero’s inflicted wound lurked behind his eyes but paired with it was a plea for forgiveness. The patchwork beginnings of a beard on his chin kept catching the light with each movement of his mouth. “...You’re welcome to stay.”

His personal effects were still inside where they’d been the last two days. All he had to do was shove them in his bag and go if it came to that.

“Please. Just for tonight.” Uncharacteristically soft as it was, that was the Cid he knew once again- if only for these fleeting moments: that awful, listless emptiness held at bay by his contrition. “Stay.”

“I shouldn’t,” he said.

He stayed.

iv.

  are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides

full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?

 -----o-----

“The Emperor means to appoint me  primus architectus.”

The door had barely shut behind him before Cid had blurted the words aloud. He stood in the parlor half-soaked and utterly forlorn, snowmelt dripping into the nap of the Thavnairian rug from his overcoat, nose and cheeks stained scarlet from the cold. 

“A veritable family enterprise.” He felt something in his stomach freeze and a stinging heat, rising just behind his nose as his ears began to ring. “I suppose you expect me to congratulate you.”

“No! No, just… listen, there was a summons waiting for me this morning. I’m to be at the palace tomorrow but I-”

He couldn’t take it any longer. “Stop.” 

“What?”

“We can talk about anything else.” 

Cid said nothing but his eyes, feverishly overbright, glittered like mica from the hollows of their sockets. Bitterness surged from the depths of Nero’s chest in a tidal wave; how a man who possessed everything he had ever wanted for himself could be this dissatisfied with such a frankly enviable lot in life- 

He busied himself with removing his coat and shoes. He tossed the former haphazardly at the hanger by the door - the hanger which, he realized with an internal cringe, still had Midas’ heavy woolen field overcoat draped on one end, a fine layer of dust having settled upon the shoulders and collar. Shoes off, one, two, the thump dull and wet and reverberating through the floorboards.

That done, wits sufficiently gathered, he was able to turn his attention back to the issue at hand. Cid had at some point removed his own coat; it lay half on the floor and half draped over the arm of a nearby chair. He stared sightlessly out the massive parlor window where the heavy drapes had been pulled back (no wonder it’s so godsdamned frigid in here, Nero thought). On the far side of the tempered glass panes, snow and ice granules settled into the mortar patterns along the cobbled walkway until each stone was limned in glittering, crystalline white. 

“Anything else,” Nero repeated. This time it was a touch more measured. 

As he had half-expected, the concession went unacknowledged- although it did afford him the luxury of surreptitious scrutiny. Cid had no idea how handsome he truly was, had never known and never cared (another aspect of Garlond’s personality which never failed to gnaw at him, that artlessness which was so irritatingly and unfathomably genuine). The lamplights cast a warm glow against his fine platinum hair.

But that flat and empty stare was so disquieting. 

“What really happened?” he went on, quietly. “That day-”

“I already told you I don’t remember.” Cid’s mouth drew downwards into a tired bow, eyes cast askance at the window again. “It hardly matters now at any rate.” 

He had seen it before all too often: the tightly controlled terror etched like Allagan script into the faces of conscripts younger than himself. Peasants pressed into imperial service, given no more quarter by the Empire than the enemies they were made to kill in its name. Bearing witness to the desolation that grief had made of Cid’s defenses, Nero understood at last. It was precisely the same. 

And as to the whys and wherefores-- well, that was perfectly obvious in hindsight. “You think he’s going to put you on Midas’ project.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen the-” Nero caught himself before he could say postmortem. “...The reports. VIIth Legion’s R&D seems to think they already have all the information they need.”

Cid was shaking his head before he had even finished speaking. “You said you didn’t want to discuss it,” he said. “So we won’t.”

“Garlond.” The utterance of his name caught Cid’s attention - not the name, but the timbre with which it was spoken: for Nero, it was something almost gentle. “You’ve surely not decided to blame yourself for this, have you?”

“Father didn’t do it by himself. Not all of it.” Nero’s eyes snagged upon the dip in Cid’s throat as he swallowed. “I was one of his assistants. I knew the dangers. I should have gone to him sooner than I did. Perhaps if I had-”

“What was it he used to tell us? Hindsight vision is always perfect? It was an accident,” his voice was a rough and uneven rasp, “just an accident. That’s all. There was no rhyme nor reason. It could have happened to anyone.”

“I suppose.”

“The only opinion that should matter is His Radiance, and thus far his reaction should be provisionally encouraging.” Somewhat begrudgingly, eyes fixed at some vague point over Cid’s shoulder, Nero added: “Or so one would assume.”

The ghost of a smile flickered in Cid’s eyes then, its echo a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. They stood in awkward silence for a beat or three, listening to the hum of the hallway radiator as with considerable effort Nero dragged his gaze away from his perusal of the other man’s face.  That ship has long sailed,  he reminded himself.  And you already told him no.

“I’ll get the extra blankets,” Cid said at last. "For the sofa. I’m… The staff is supposed to change the linens daily. They would have already had them out, but I sent them on their way early tonight.”

“Why? No witnesses to watch you drink yourself into a stupor?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the pointed drawl. “...Something like that, yes,” he admitted. “I’ve been using Fath-... the guest room. I wanted to be left alone. Besides, you’ve travel ahead of you in the morning, and the bed’s already made, so I’ll take the sofa.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“Who said you were kicking me out?” There it was, the annoyed jut of his lower jaw and the tight and unamused press of his lips. “I’m offering you the space.”

“And I’m telling you, Garlond,  keep it.” 

“If you weren’t so bloody stubborn- ”

“If you weren’t so godsdamned overbearing- ”

They were shallow wells, both run dry; all that remained were limbs and eyes and mouths to say the words neither could (or would) speak. Cid’s eyes were dark as twin stormclouds, the distant dullness temporarily displaced by his passing irritation, and the sight brought to mind a memory of the summer squalls which frequented Nero’s boyhood home: the thunderheads rolling like an avalanche across the sky with little warning, the deep levin-struck rumbling that shook the roots of the land and echoed through the mountain pass. Wind gusts with their sharp bites of chill, driving shepherds and their flocks into nearby caverns. All of it fueled by that violent clash of cold and heat which always presaged an oncoming storm.

Like a string pulled too taut the tension between them winnowed down to its barest fraying threads and lingered perhaps a breath too long,  inhale, exhale,  and in that beat it was Nero who closed the distance between them, making a liar of himself with two gathered handfuls of fine-woven linen and the crash of his mouth against his colleague's, rough and angry and demanding.

A renewal of hostilities, perhaps. Or simply a seized opportunity, to finish what Garlond had started outside in the freezing bloody cold.

He would not have taken it amiss had the other man pushed him away as he had done, excoriated him for his hypocrisy. Instead he found himself stumbling backward with arms twined about his neck and hands grasping for his shoulders, through the parlor and into the hallway until his back met the wall with an ungentle thump: a startling jolt that might have knocked the breath from his lungs if there had been breath to take. If that hadn’t already gone from him, stifled in the cavernous warmth of a familiar mouth, stolen alongside the hidden parts of what heart he had to give, leaving his gut on fire and his legs trembling.

“I thought you told me to buy myself a room,” the murmur reached his ear but it was one he felt as much as heard, the soft whisper of cooling breath upon damp lips, tracing the patterns of the words with the tip of his tongue.

Nero was a liar-- one lacking both the wherewithal and the patience to dissemble further. 

“Shut up, Garlond,” he growled. "Yours will suffice."

Cid laughed (or perhaps he was merely hearing things). But the way that mouth fit against his was as much like coming home as it had ever been.

 ~*~

 Sleep was an elusive creature. He laid awake into the small, still hours of early morning with sweat still drying in a fine dew upon his skin, hooded periwinkle eyes fixed upon the paneled ceiling. The warmth and surety of his lover draped dozing against his bare chest, his stubble-roughened cheek pillowed by smooth flesh and a small forest of wiry golden curls, should have been a comfort.

It felt like a millstone, weighing him into the mattress. 

Nero couldn't remember now exactly when they had ended up moving from the hallway and into the modestly furnished guest room, nor had he particularly taken mind of the moment when their clothes had come off. He did commit to memory the bits he felt worth keeping. That bracing contrast of cool air on his skin when he had finally cast aside the restriction of his smalls, the avarice in blue eyes as they beheld the sight of him, the heat and slick agility of a greedy tongue and a greedier mouth to punctuate curses and narrow thrusts. The sharp relief and the myriad tiny pinpricks of light shuttered behind his eyelids just before the aching coil of desire released its grasp upon him and he had spilled, Cid's name little more than a wrecked and wasted moan in his ears, to dwindle into memory and silence.

His fingers tangled idly in fine strands of platinum, combing through their softness while tracing with his gaze the grain of the wood above. Remarkable, he thought, to see such workmanship in a residence here now. The stone and metal structures of the city were homogenous, streamlined, and almost universally ugly in their sterility but the small imperfections and minute flecks of color made him think of the little garret he'd slept in as a boy.

Sentimentality had little place in his life now. That, too, was the way of things. 

"You're still awake," the sleep-gravelled voice muttered against his shoulder, stirring and adjusting position on the mattress. Linen and carbon-insulated weighted cotton shifted to and fro over them, beneath it all the soft creak of the bed frame, "Don't tell me after all that, you still aren't-"

The hand gentling through Cid's hair paused. Drifted downwards. Draped at last over his waist with a faint, insincere chuckle. "I never want for stamina."

"Nor obstinacy. Get some sleep."

"Are you going to meet with the Emperor tomorrow?"

He felt the slight lift and drop of shoulders. Small and uneasy. "...I reckon I should at least hear what His Radiance has to say."

"You already know what he has to say," Nero said, not quite able to hold his impatience at bay. 

"Aye. I do." 

And with those three words that unspoken barrier dropped back between them just as it had been before, holding him at arm's length. Despite the shared warmth of their bodies the room no longer felt as comfortable- and then he had not even that, for Cid was already sitting up and fumbling over the edge of the bed for his smalls.

"Where are you going?"

"The sofa," Cid grunted, wriggling his hips as he dragged the fabric up his legs and over trim buttocks. He didn't even glance at Nero.

"Look, Garlond, if this is about what I said-"

"It isn't."

"Then stay," he could hear an annoyed edge creeping back into his voice; the warm and expansive mood between them was quite gone now. Nor did he expect its return- but a part of him still wanted to try. "I'll set the alarum so we're not-"

Cid was already shaking his head, a rueful tilt upon soft lips, pained and sorrowful, as he gained his feet. There was something altogether too careful about that smile and it silenced him as no angry words ever could. As infuriating as Nero all too often found his old classmate, his emotions had ever been an open book-- but like his cold apathy, this veiled, furtive look was not something he had seen before. It felt just as wrong and out of place as that numb disinterest, and he could neither read this expression nor understand what had engendered it. 

"I've got used to sleeping alone, Nero," Garlond said, with some strange and unexpected tenderness. His hand settled upon the doorknob, turned, and opened as he crossed the threshold. "As have you, I expect."

The door clicked shut without a pause and a chill as deep as winter sank into his chest. 

  v.

 was it for this the clay grew tall?

 -----o-----

  "I accept," he said. 

For all that it was a former royal residence, Nero always found himself distinctly underwhelmed by the viceroy's palace. The entire affair was a garish collection of painted purple sandstone and ill-kept mosaics from the barbarian kings that had ruled this land before it had felt the Empire's boot upon its neck, sparsely furnished to the point of seeming austerity. It had all the look of a space that saw little use beyond the viceroy's occasional desire for private discussions.

"Strictly speaking, this is not an appointment I would consider were you either only an engineer or only an officer. You came highly recommended on both counts." The room was also stiflingly warm; the climate unit that had been so hastily installed a few years ago was malfunctioning again and Nero was sweltering in his carbonweave. Regardless, he managed to remain at parade rest as the legatus addressed him. "To be clear: at this time, we have no plans for this artifact. It is to be considered merely a research opportunity, something which you had expressed interest in pursuing per your query."

"Of course."

Baelsar hesitated- just a slight hitch in the planes and slopes of broad shoulders, nothing a less observant individual would have noted - before he added:

"There are certain... additional conditions, all commensurate to this posting, which you might wish to review ere you formally accept the offer. Should you prefer to give the matter some thought-"

"No need, my lord. I find the terms quite amenable." 

Any surprise he might have expressed lay well-concealed beneath his helm but his body language was the picture of consternation - consternation which Nero ignored in favor of a long study of terrain through the dusty panel of tempered glass. The impromptu dig site was some distance away, situated very close to the edge of the salt loch, but the palace sat at the very top of the hill upon which the city had been built. Even from here, he could perceive the great hole carved into the rocky earth, its edges made jagged by ancient stone and sand and root.

Below that detritus of collected eons lay the Black Wolf's unexpected prize: a sleeping beast of Allagan steel and artifice.

"So," he continued, "this is why you requested an expert."

"Yes, though I have other matters which you are to oversee. Your primary directive, for the time being, will be to assist your fellow tribunes in seeing the Agrius and its crew made battle-ready. Once that mission is completed I would have you investigate the matter in more detail." Nero watched the man turn away with his gloved hands clasped behind his broad back. It was not a question; the legatus would have done his due diligence beforehand. "In truth, I had hoped to have Cid nan Garlond as my consult, but one must make do."

He chose to say nothing. His hands curled into fists, clenched tightly and safely at their position behind his back.

"Speaking of which, I don't suppose you've had any contact with him."

"Why would I have had contact with Garlond, my lord?"

It sounded more defensive than he would have wished and there was no hiding that, and he could see in the curious tilt of the other man's head that it had not gone unnoticed. "Perhaps you are unaware, but I fostered him for a time when he was young. Midas nan Garlond is an old friend, you see. I'm told the two of you were similarly close-"

"Something of an overstatement, I'm afraid," Nero said. "We were classmates."

"Nothing more?"

Perhaps it was folly, remaining under the command of a man who had raised the closest thing to a real friend Nero had ever had- but it was a calculated risk. The Empire looked upon defectors and deserters as the same stripe of beast: craven and treasonous, worthy of naught save the hangman's noose, and surely Garlond had not been spared that endemic disdain simply by virtue of who he was. 

Surely not. Seven hells, he had to get lucky sometime.

Besides which, any anger he felt was from the affront the man's feckless existence had proven. The boundless webs of opportunity he had taken for granted, the constant praise and acknowledgment he had clearly considered his due. It was very specifically not that cold clench in the gut Nero had felt when he had awakened at first light and discovered himself alone in the former domicile of a dead man. 

No, it was his turn now. His time had come; he felt that very keenly. Garlond was persona non grata. This was a new chapter in his own tale, yet to be written, and if he was a cog in the machine at least there was purpose to be found in ambition. In serving himself- and in future, any endeavor he chose would be for that reason alone.

There would be no more weakness. 

"Nothing more," he said.

     -----o-----

  oh, what made fatuous sunbeams toil

to break earth's sleep at all?

 -----o-----

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: Aftermath Chapter 4 - Into The Bliss

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Drug trip (Bliss). Kate and Wheaty being an adorable couple.

Word count: 3.6k

This is a short follow up series to Kidnapped leading up to the nuclear holcaust, and the beginning of New Dawn. 

Summary: Kate tries to get over John and gets a surprising visitor. Paige still suffers with the symptoms from Jacob Seed’s classical conditioning despite being dead. Faith/Rachel learns the truth and secrets about the Winchester family. 

Guest OCs: Joel Winchester [mentioned], Daenerys Winchester [as a infant in Bliss trip]

Guest Characters: Castiel [Supernatural: mentioned], Jacob Seed [mentioned], John Seed [mentioned, and in Bliss trip].

*****

A few weeks have passed, mid September is finally here, and the search for Joseph Seed continues. The lead Paige found turned out to be false, and was just an abandoned, small village with a bunch of mannequins and some druggie. Goddamn cops. Damn pigs with their false leads. 

Kenny, Mark, Nate, Cody, Adrian and a few other locals are putting up 2 more houses on the property. They've been putting them up for almost a month now. Since both Paige and Kate are pregnant, Mark, Nate, Adrian, Marty, and Cody’s families are coming to live with them. 

So building 2 more houses will help with the expanding family of hunters.

Kate and Wheaty have gotten a lot closer, finally making their relationship official, despite them making out several times already. Him learning some things about his new girlfriend, like her knowing how to ride a skateboard. 

"I didn't know you skate!" he tells her. She laughs softly, "Yeah, I've been skating for years now" she tells him. 

She rides around the driveway of her house, showing him some tricks. Landing a kickflip, an ollie and all other basic skating tricks and techniques. 

"Even though I'm pregnant I can still skate!" she jokes. Stops in front of him, while standing on the board. Wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him. He breaks the kiss after a several seconds. 

"So!" he says, "How did you know that I liked you?". 

She chuckles, "It was quite obvious. You were always nervous around me. Very awkward". 

He laughs, "Well isn't that how most people act when they're around someone they like?. You're a psychologist so you should know!". 

She gives him a quick peck on the lips, "It's a very common sign". 

As they're making out like a couple of teenagers. 

The guys are putting the foundation of the houses, cutting up wood to build the walls.

“Paige!!!” Kenny calls out for his wife, as he looks around for his extra tools and other materials. 

“Yeah?!?” she responds, standing by the back door.

“Can you get me a hammer, electric saw and the jar of nails from the shed. Please” he asks.

She looks down at the 9 month old infant in her baby wrap.

“Umm” she points to their infant daughter, “I’m a little preoccupied here!!”. 

“Please. They’re not on the top shelf” he says.

She rolls her eyes, “Okay, I’ll be back”.

“Thank you!!” he responds, measuring the pieces of wood. 

Paige walks to the shed they have in the back of their property.

“The stuff your daddy makes me do” she says to Cristina, “You’re gonna be a big sister!. A brother? A little sister?”.

She opens the shed door, a radio on the metal table making an annoying static sound.

“Damn, old ass radio” she mutters as she looks around the jar of nails, and hammer.

Sighing, as she looks around for the hardware tools, “Okay where are you?!?”.

She finds the hammer in a tool box a few inches above her head. As she reaches for the hammer, and grabs it. She bumps into the metal table with the radio on it. The static goes away, becoming clear and an old nightmare of hers comes back.

Only you can make all this world seem right

Only you can make the darkness bright

Paige gasps loudly, drops the hammer, bumping into the shelves knocking over jars, and boxes of tools, grabbing her head. The song plays distortedly, flashbacks from when she was locked in a cage, being tortured by Jacob and going through his trials. Killing those innocent people. His words replaying over, and over in her head.

TRAIN, HUNT, KILL, SACRIFICE. CULL THE HERD.

Her vision turns red, and black. She starts to hyperventilate. Her screams get trapped in her throat.  

Flashing images of dead carcusses of people and animals. The wolves. The Judges. That stupid music box Jacob had to fuck up his victims minds.

Kenny, Adrian, Mandy, Mark, Nate, Kate, Wheaty and everyone else on the property hear Paige’s panicked screams, and Cristina’s cries. They all run to the shed, and find her on the ground screaming, clenching her head.

Cristina crying, and wailing. Only You playing on the radio.

Kate goes to turn off the radio. 

“Paige!!!” Kenny yells, shaking her shoulders, “Paige!!”. She stops screaming, her voice turning hoarse and raspy. Tears streaming down her face, and hyperventilating. 

He takes Cristina from the wrap, and hands her to Mandy, and takes her inside.

“Hey, are you okay?!” Kenny asks, comforting his wife.

She shakes her head, crying into her husband's chest, “No, No. Jacob may be dead but he still lurks in my head”.  He holds his wife, closely, comforting her. Stroking her hair. He, and Mark help her up, and take her inside the house. Sitting at the kitchen table with her mom, sister and Rachel.

“What happened?!” Kate asks.

Stammers over her words, “I-I went to go get a hammer, saw and nails for Kenny. I bumped into the table with the old radio. Then I heard “Only You” play, and I had flashbacks from St. Francis, when I was locked in that cage”. 

Crying softly. Thinking of all that would go away when she killed Jacob a month earlier, but apparently it looks like his spirit is sticking around for a while to torment Paige.

“The images from his stupid slideshow, the trials. Me killing those innocent people under his control with that fucking music box”.

Mandy places her hand on her eldest daughter's hand, “It’ll go away. We’ll work on it”.

Kate clears her throat, “Speaking of Jacob. That day when you kill him, and uh- and I killed John, when we were sent on that Bliss trip. What did you see?”.

Looking down at her hands, Paige says, her voice shaken, “The night dad was killed”.

She turns to Kate, “I saw everything, the whole house went up in flames, and I woke up”.

“I saw the same thing” Mandy says, “Then it was the day I lost both of you”.

“What did you see?!” Paige asks Kate.

“It was from that day Morgan and I exorcised the demon out of John”.

Rachel turns to Kate in confusion, “John got possessed by a demon?!?”.

She nods her head, “Yeah, the demon that was possessing him. Saleos. He had John kill me”.

All 3 of their eyes widened, “You were dead?!?” Mandy exclaims.

Nodding her head, “Yeah, I was strangled by “John”. He couldn’t stop him. I was dead for an hour then Castiel brought me-”

“Cas was there!?!?!” Paige interrupts her, “I don’t mean to interrupt but he was there?!?”. 

Kate exhales, “Yeah he was there, he told me I met an untimely death that wasn’t supposed to happen, and that I wasn’t supposed to die. Where I was, was the final stop before getting into Heaven, like a plane of existence. The Other Side is what he called it. Then he brought me back to Earth, and I went back into my body. He wiped John’s memory of being possessed, me being dead and all that shit. But the memory of him being possessed can be restored by me, and only me. If I were to bring it up to him”.

Rachel looks at all three of them, confused and asks “So you said you were dead?!?”.

“Yes” Kate answers.

“Castiel? Like the Angel?!” she asks, trying to keep up with what’s going on.

“Yeah, the Angel” Paige answers. 

“I also want to mention that same day when demon John killed me, and I was in The Other Side. I finally met dad” she says, her voice going soft.

Mandy and Paige look at each other, then back at Kate.

“You- you met dad?!?” Paige asks in disbelief. 

Kate nods, shedding a single tear, “Yeah, Cas brought him there. I saw that exact same thing when I was on my bliss trip at St. Francis”. 

Paige narrows her eyes at her, and looks around in disbelief, “Wait, so on your Bliss trip. You saw demon John killing you via strangulation, then you were taken to The Other Side or Limbo basically, where you saw yourself talk to our dead dad?! And Castiel was there?”.

Trying to process all that she said, “Yeah, pretty much” she chuckles. 

“Bliss-ception” Paige jokes, “Or death-ception”.

“So what did you and your dad talk about?!” Mandy asks.

Trying to hold back her tears, “I asked him what happened to me, what happened that night when he was killed. Azazel killed him, and that same demon did it to our cousin's mom, Mary, several years earlier in the same way, and that's how most of us Winchester’s go out. I told him that I never got to know him, and he said in these exact words, “I know you didn’t. That’s why you’re here, it was a chance for you to finally meet me”.”

Mandy starts to tear up. Holding her head up with her fists placed underneath her chin.

“Then he asked me “How’s your mother and Paige?”, and the final words he said to me before he disappeared. They still play in my head to this day, they were “I’m always watching over you”.”

All of them crying, softly sobbing uncontrollably. Rachel started to get teary eyed just by hearing all of this. 

“So. So all of you have died, and came back?!?” she asks.

All three of them nod, “I’ve died 9 times” Paige says.

“I’ve died 4 times” Kate says, lifting her hand up a bit. 

“3 times” Mandy says.

Learning about what this family does for a living. Traveling across the country, killing monsters. 

**********

Later that night, Rachel is in her room, sitting on her bed reading.

She gets a knock at her door, “Yes?” she responds.

The door opens, and Kate steps inside, “Hey”, she says.

“Hi” she responds looking up from her book.

“You okay?” she asks, concern in her voice. 

Rachel nods her head, “Yeah, I’m fine”

Nodding her head, “Okay, good. Because umm you looked a bit shaken up from what we were talking about earlier” Kate says, sitting down on a chair by the bed.

Rachel closes her book, setting it down on her nightstand.

“Have you ever met God?” she asks.

Kate nods her head, “Chuck is his name. He’s a writer”

She sits up in her bed, “So when Paige said “We’re all just a part of his story” that wasn’t a metaphor, or anything?”.

She shakes her head, “No. It wasn’t a metaphor or anything. We’re all just a book. We’re all a part of his story”.

Rachel looks down at the floor for a few moments. Kate clears her throat, and says.

“I know Paige, and pretty much everyone living here would be completely against this, but is there anyway, or a chance you can get a hold of some Bliss?!” 

She looks at her with a head tilt, “I may have a vial. Why?”.

Embarrassed, and ashamed to even think about why she wants it. She takes a deep breath, and says.

“Because I, and I hate to admit it, but I want to see John again. Even if it’s an old memory of us happy together”.

Kate starts to tear up, “I don’t know why he still has this affect on me!!. It’s like I can’t let him go. Like he’s entwined with me, a part of me. That day when he died, he looked me in the eye before taking his last breath. I’m with Wheaty now, I can’t be having these feelings for an ex partner of mine that is dead!!”.

“He took your virginity, didn’t he?” she asks, looking at her with soft puppy like eyes. 

Nodding her head while tears stream down her cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah he was my first time. I wanted to lose it to someone who was worthy enough to take it. John, at the time was worthy enough, to me, to take it, but now I'm starting to think I wished someone else took it". 

Rachel places her hand on Kate’s hand. 

“That’s why. He took something from you that you can never get back, and he left his spawn inside you. Growing”.

Kate’s breathing turns shakey, that ball in her throat making it hard for her to speak.

“I think maybe, seeing him again, maybe it’ll help me get him out of my head” she was able to speak up.

Rachel gets up from her bed, and goes to her closet. Going through one of her bags, and pulls out a small vial of the pale green drug.

“Here” she says, handing her the small vial, “If you concentrate hard enough. You will be able to communicate with John even if he’s dead”.

She looks at the vial, examining it. “So do I drink it? Or?”

“You can drink a little bit of it, or you can inhale it” she answers. 

“Okay, thank you” she says, getting up from the chair, and leaves her room.

*********

An hour later everyone is asleep, Kate is getting ready for bed. She looks over at the vial of bliss Rachel gave her an hour ago. Contemplating whether or not to take a sip, or sniff of it, or just not use it at all.

She locks her bedroom door, grabs the vial, opens it, and takes a long, deep inhale of the hallucinogenic drug. Quickly closing the bottle, setting it down on her desk.

Concentrating hard on seeing John again, and maybe tell him to get out of her head. She’s ashamed to say to herself. Let alone think of it. Her vision starts to get blurry, white, green, red, and disoriented. Everything is tripping out.

Sparks flying, she falls back on her bed. Letting the drug do it’s thing. After a few minutes have passed, feeling like she’s falling. Feeling light as a feather.

*Into the Bliss*

She wakes up in a white, and green wonderland.

The sky green, the clouds a whitish pale green. The sun shining down on her, warming her up.

“Holy fuck" she whispers, “That shit worked”.

A jackalope rabbit sitting at her feet. It hops away when she moves, and sits up.

Her clothes are different from what she was wearing earlier. 

A plain white, knee length flannel dress, and no shoes on. Her hair in a clean well done braid. 

A princess cut diamond ring on her left ring finger.

She looks around, and sees that she’s laying in a field by a huge tree with a tire swing attached to it. 

"What the fuck?!?!" she mutters to herself. 

She continues to look around the blissed out wasteland. 

“Kate!?!” a distorted male voice echos. 

She looks behind her, and sees a figure approaching her through the cloud of bliss 30 feet away. The clouds of bliss as the figure approaches her give off a wing like shape behind them. She stands up, and slowly approaches them.

“Kate!?!” the voice says again slightly clearer but still distorted. 

“John?” she mutters confused, as she slowly approaches the other person. 

“Kate!?” they say again.

It takes her a moment to realize it’s John’s voice. 

“John!?!” she yells out. Slight hope in her voice.

The figure gets closer, and she is immediately brought to shameful tears when she sees that it’s really John.

“John?!” she says again, tears streaming down her face. A huge smile on her face. Just by seeing him she forgets why she wanted the drug in the first place. To tell his ass off. 

“I’m here darlin” he says, smiling, his voice echoing throughout the hallucination.

Those perfect blue eyes staring back at her. Placing his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to him. She places her hands on his shoulders. They stare at each other for what felt like years. Decades. Centuries. A Millennium. Their foreheads touching. 

He looks down at her stomach, his hands placed where her baby bump would be.

“She’s gonna be so beautiful” he tells her.

Confused, Kate looks down, and sees that her stomach had grown bigger. Telling herself it's all part of the hallucination, and that she doesn’t have to go in panic mode.

John kneels down, and kisses her baby bump. 

Feeling the baby kick. Tears running down her cheeks, this is what she wanted, but she knows she'll never have it. This is the closest she’ll ever get to having a family with John. He stands up, and kisses Kate on the lips. Holding her close in his arms. Her arms wrapped around his neck. 

One of his hands on her lower back, the other holding the back of her head. 

He lifts her up, his arms wrapped around her lower half. He slowly spins in a circle with the love of his life in his arms. Kissing her. 

Even though this is all a hallucination and John is most likely buried 6 feet underground. Everything felt so real. Kate buries her face in the crook of his neck as he slowly spins her around. 

It doesn't dawn on her that she wanted to tell John to leave her alone and get out of her head because she's with someone else. Looking like a total clown. 

The sound of a baby cooing, catches her attention. She looks over to her right, and sees a white crib in the middle of the field.  John puts her down, taking her hand in his, and they walk towards the crib.

Looking down at her stomach, seeing it had shrunk back to its normal size from before.

"Okay this trip is getting way too personal" she thinks to herself, "And I hate it!". 

They approach the crib, and see a baby girl who looks about 6 months old in a pink, and white onesie. 

Black hair like Kate’s, and blue eyes like John. 

The name above her on the headboard of the crib says “Daenerys A.B. Seed”.

John picks her up from the crib, cradling her in his arms. Smiling down at his infant daughter.

“She looks just like you” he says, turning to Kate. 

“She has your eyes” she says to him, holding her tiny foot. 

He hands her to Kate. Baby Daenerys looks so much like her with John’s blue eyes. Cradling her in her arms, they look down at their beautiful little girl. Trying her best not to cry again. 

She puts her back in the crib, and turns to John. Cupping his cheeks, and kisses him. Embracing her tightly. She closes her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. 

He rocks her slowly in his arms. Hoping for this to never ever end. If she could stay here forever with him, and their daughter she would. She would have no problem with that. 

“Kate!!” another voice speaks out from behind her. She pulls away from John and looks behind her. Looking around and seeing no one, just the hallucinations of the Bliss, and it's weird, mutant animals. Thinking it's her father since he was there in her Bliss trip back at St. Francis. 

She turns back to face him and sees another man's face looking back at her. Holding her. 

“Hello sweet-cheeks!!!” Gabriel greets her with a huge smile.

She can literally hear a record scratch in her head as he says this. Eyes widened, mouth falling slightly open.

“Gabriel?!? What are you doing here?!?” she exclaims, trying to release herself from his hold.

“You shouldn’t be here” he tells her, “You need to get out". 

Confused to why her guardian Archangel is here. In her Bliss hallucination, “What?!? Why?!?”. 

“You need to leave, and forget about John” he tells her, “He’s no good and you know that. I'd tell you, but you'll find out in the weeks to come". 

Still confused, and stumped “I-I don’t. What? Tell me what?!!?". 

“It’s important that you get out of here!” he tells her. Cupping her cheeks. 

Shaking her head, “This isn’t real. This isn’t real, you’re a hallucination!!” she yells out.

"You're a hallucination!" he sasses her. 

“Where’s John?!?” she orders him to tell her.

“He was never here. It was all me. I’m more real than your psychedelic drug trip” the Archangel tells her, “I’m real. This isn’t. You need to leave. John is dead. That's it, you can't save him!”.  

Before she could protest against him, Gabriel snaps his fingers and makes a cloud-like portal appear behind her. She looks back, sees the cloud rift portal, and turns back to him. 

"You might hate me for this" he tells her and aggressively pushes her through the rift portal back to her universe.

Kate wakes up in a cold sweat, confused. Not sure how long she was out, she looks out her window and sees the sun rising up from behind the mountains. 

Her hallucination happened throughout the whole night? Even though it felt like it was 10 minutes. Trickster making himself known by pretending to be John and telling her to get over him, move on with her life. What the actual fuck Gabriel?!?.

[foulserpent]

only human

long character analysis + fan fiction hybrid involving critically acclaimed worst best game of all time The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion! martin is in a mental and emotional hell! ned and martin resolving unresolved sexual tension after like, 100000 false starts! being mentally ill with the bro’s! "fluffy" ending!

cw: brief depiction of violence, ptsd, implications of past relationship based trauma, borderline explicit but not really sexy sexual content (nothing p*rnographic but 18+ pls)

On some nights, Martin was in hell.

The world was on a slow death march towards ruin outside the walls, this much he knew. Not even the strongest fortification could shield him from it. Every night from his gilded cage, he heard the screams, breathed the foul smoke and burning flesh and disemboweled gut, see the daedra drag the near-dead into the shadows to be torn apart, still crying out as they were devoured. His hands wet with blood, shaking in vain as his healing failed him and the survivors were pulled apart by their own wounds. The long walk out of the doomed Kvatch, past swarming flies and hundreds of blank eyes looking into the unforgiving sun. The revelation that all this was for him.

On the worst of these nights, staring into the ceiling of Cloud Ruler Temple as the sun began to creep over the horizon, he would wish he had just died.

This time last year, he was on track to live out the rest of his days in obscurity. Probably in Kvatch, probably remaining a priest, where the only weight on his shoulders was giving people their assurances that the Divines would look out for them and hoping he would finally taste truth in these words. It would be better than this. Those who held the reigns of the Empire were even more deluded than he'd thought, if they believed that his noble blood would divinely grant understanding of what to do, some inborn ability to keep collected and strong and sane trapped here as his friends faced death at his behest.

He would be called "lord", shone and polished as a commodity, loved and utterly devoted to, and never, never known. His feelings did not matter. This message had been thoroughly beaten into him. None of it mattered to whatever hand kept him guarded as preciously as the helpless king on the chessboard, behind a line of pawns to the sacrifice. Xikeel bringing him little gifts from gods-know-where (some teeth, a ring, a few spoons), slithering down from the rafters to visit him in the late night hours. One of the blades- bewildered - walking in on them dancing, without rhythm or music.

Long conversations with Ned, who would never treat him like an emperor, who barely even seemed to want to be there but had become doggedly devoted to Xikeel and himself. Bringing him wine, face softened into a smile in anticipation of an evening sitting outside in comfortable, quiet company. Tired and spiteful, but so warm.

He did not know when his feelings had turned to want. There was never an astonished realization, no moment that had changed everything. The first time he consciously acknowledged it was not as a revelation, but as an observation. Ned had cut his hand, a simple, foolish mistake that left Martin wearily healing him, in spite of the bosmer’s protests. Martin had held onto his hand longer than the spell needed, feeling the pulse in his fingers and wanting to entwine him in his own. Wanting to pull him in closer. Noticing that he wanted this, and noticing that it did not surprise him.

It was one of many things to think about, significantly less distressing than every other aspect of his current existence to say the least. He wondered if it was the day he had returned from his nigh-suicidal mission to cheat a god, haggard and shirt bloodied and yet with the softest eyes Martin had seen in the man, cracking a weak smile (a flash of teeth) that said "I've done it, and I hope you can forgive me". He wondered if it was Ned's unwavering devotion to leaving his shirt half-unbuttoned, the burn tearing through his chest on display like a trophy. The necklace would fall across the older man's breast while he laughed and joked about stupid things with Martin as if they were old friends. He was not above simple things.

Perhaps this was a test of the temperance he had spent years cultivating, hollowing out a part of himself to nurture the seed. After all, he had not been with anyone for a long time.

---

He had loathed the existence of the arena in Kvatch, drawing in men and women from all around in what amounted to mass suicide. There was little honor in it, just desperate people consuming themselves for just to grasp a thread of glory, dying in the mud as the crowd roared.  But Martin was only human. He had found himself looking on the men as they passed through town, all muscle and scars and fiercely alive. He had found himself drawn to one who had come into the temple for a blessing of protection. The man never said why, though Martin knew where he was bound. It was never hard to tell.

The man was tall and rather handsome, with a muscular frame and dark hair and looking to be only a few years younger than himself, (this had to be around when he was forty-one or forty-two. Had it been that long?). They'd spoke first as strangers do, running through the motions of a blessing under a thick smoke of incense and flowers burnt in offering to the Dragon. Martin averted his gaze from the sword at the man's hip as he prepared the oil. Its hilt glittered in iron filigree and unmistakable rust of dried blood struck gold by the afternoon's dying light. His eyes wandered to the man's face instead, moving to begin the anointment. The dark haired man swiped his tongue over his lips and glanced away, and Martin's heartbeat spiked.

For gods sakes.

The man talked compulsively, glancing around as if something stalked him in the shadows between the stained-glass-light. Martin had silently hoped he would grow bored with the old priest and be on his way, if only so that he'd have time to himself to contemplate what the hell was wrong with him. So, naturally, the man kept talking long after the ritual was complete and the candles extinguished. About where he had come from, (all the way from High Rock, it turned out), the unusual rains lately, family. Partners. Lovers. The conversation turned here, and had fallen with such a speed that he barely realized what was happening. The man had found Martin beautiful, and Martin, exhausted with penitence and enthralled by the stranger and aching to just be human again, had found himself quietly slipping out with him.

Martin's home was truly tiny when occupied by two, an unfamiliar claustrophobia that was quickly dragged into the mire and drowned in a little too much wine. It was cheap and burned his throat with its sweetness, but he didn't care. They'd stumbled and fallen into his bed.

"For good luck," the man had said, as they kissed rough and far too clumsy.

"For good luck," Martin had kissed into the man's neck.

The man was a bit fumbling, all muscles and scars and fierceness. No matter how close their bodies pressed, no matter the grip Martin had - his fingers marking new trails over a scarred back -  there was that distance. Two magnets repelling, even as they forced themselves together. These men going to their deaths couldn't be touched. And neither could he, no matter how he tried. There weren't even the barest roots of love here. Just body on body, flesh on flesh. It wasn't bad, though. Martin was only human.

He didn't know what to say in the morning, as the man collected his belongings to go off to the fight. "Good luck," Martin said again, feeling stupid. The man had said "thank you" with his eyes distant. He bent down and out the door, and walked out into the humid morning air, leaving Martin with a strange emptiness in his gut. He never saw him again.

It shouldn't have impacted him so badly. He'd had a one-night stand that was, frankly, pretty good. He'd given another man some comfort, something above and beyond his duty as the Priest-Healer-Penitent. It wasn't really against any vows. His lungs still breathed the smoke of offerings to the Dragon, a shrine to Dibella was dutifully kept at the foot of his bed and given a clumsy offering before the main event. He had not fallen back into the snares of that damned daedra. It wasn't a betrayal of those he'd lost. So why was he guilty?

---

And yet here he was now, on the precipice yet again. Really, he was long into the fall.

Him and one-of-two Heroes of Kvatch had slept together for a week now. Nothing more than the sharing of a bed and body heat, their day to day lives much the same as the world crumbled around him. They had kissed a few days ago, slightly dizzy with wine and the memory returning only in a haze. They'd kissed again the night before, sober and beyond any deniability as the bosmer was making his way out on errand. Ned had blushed and flicked his ears back, leaving him with a soft smile and a quiet "See you," as he slipped into the night.

Now, Martin found himself kneeling as if in prayer at the foot of his bed, his companion sitting up before him. Ned was half naked, body all muscle and scars and an exhaustion that ran far deeper than that. Martin had been healing a wound on his stomach- sliced open by a nasty (and thankfully, poorly aimed) dagger. The Mythic Dawn long since knew what he looked like, though they had hardly been this bold before now. They stalked the base of the mountains like jackals at the edge of a kill, waiting for an opening to lunge in and tear off some scrap of flesh. Ned hadn't wanted to talk about this one. His hands shook as he'd taken off his bloodstained clothes, and he scoured them with a washcloth long after they were clean.

"I'm fine." He had said. "I'm just tired."

Martin was tired too. That first night together, he had this romantic notion that being held by his friend would keep away the nightmares. They had come as they did most nights, crawling out of the depths of his subconscious with the worst of him they could offer. He'd woken up, breathing hard as terror dripped down his body. There was one difference. There was a warmth pressed to his back, and it breathed a half-snore as it moved in closer, nuzzled into his trembling neck. Ned hadn't woken. He had just wrapped Martin up into strong arms, and settled back into a deep sleep. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but even as the last traces of the nightmare pulled out its spurs, Martin felt safe. All he wanted was to return the favor.

Now, Martin leaned to kissed the gash across Ned's chest, the one that the man would wake up in terror clutching at, eyes somewhere far away and breathing hard. He trailed kisses down the line of skin warped by fire and blade, and Ned laughed. "I can barely feel it."

"Really?" The sword and its burns had probably damaged a nerve. Or done something worse, something that cut deeper. It was a daedric weapon after all. Martin would later ask where exactly he had sensation, to see if anything could be done about it. Later, perhaps. Now, he was tired of being the Priest-Healer-Penitent.

He leaned back in, close but just out of reach. His lips hovered down over the soft hair down his middle, making a glancing contact below the wounds. Even there, the skin seemed to have been broken and healed many times over a long life. How could someone live like that?  He kissed him, just below the lower scar.

"How about here?"

"S'better"

Ned was definitely feeling something. The man's breath caught just slightly at the touch. He overcorrected, shifting in his seat a little and clearing his throat. Uncrossing his legs. Martin moved further down, just a little past his navel, laying another kiss on the recently healed wound. He wanted nothing more than to taste - touch the man before him, and to wake up with no guilt, no loneliness- he kissed him again.

"Or here?"

"Little better," the man's tone was flirtatious. "I mean, it'd be lot more sensation if you went just a bit low...er."

Ned had trailed off in the last word and froze at his own indiscretion. He was tensed like one with a hand raised against him, expecting a blow. As if he could have misinterpreted where this moment could go, alone and naked with his friend kneeling before him. As if Martin would be mad.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-uh." Ned flailed, pulling his knees shut.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I'd like to, if you would."

Ned's breath hitched. He looked utterly bewildered.

"OH- yeah, sure? Uh- Yes. Yeah." He sputtered.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment that lasted an eternity. Neither man dared to even take a breath. Ned cracked the tiniest fraction of a smile.

They both laughed, pulling apart. The tension had snapped, and the ache in his gut relented, put itself to the side. Martin hoisted himself back up onto the bed, sitting to his friend's side with a chaste several inches between them.

"It's... Been a while." Martin sighed. "Look at me, acting all nervous."

"Me too man, me too." Ned laughed, covering the blush on his face and utterly failing to hide the red of his ears. "’Promise I'm not usually like this, I have no friggin' idea what my problem is."

"Well, this'll just have to do." Martin made a show of shrugging and frowning in mock-resignation.

Ned let out a 'ha!' and leaned back, all muscles now relaxed as he smiled up at his companion. His words and smile were casual, but he was looking at Martin with such soft eyes, as if this tired old man was the damn moons and stars.

"Can I kiss you?" Martin asked.

Ned nodded.

He leaned over him, and went in for another kiss. And another. This time, it was as if a dam had burst. All lips and tongue and teeth and breath and hands moving on skin with a practiced clumsiness that spoke to years of experience, and spoke to one treading a ground that was brand new and wonderful for it.

As they pulled apart, Ned smiled and squeezed Martin's hands, and he squeezed back. They guided each other downward.

Now, Martin's lips were at a precipice below deniability. His hands held ready at the man's waist, a few fingers interwoven with his, beyond caring if their palms sweat or if their arms shook. He looked up to meet Ned's gaze, who cracked a smile and looked away, threading his other hand into Martin's hair in spite of his sheepishness.  

"Can I keep going?" Martin asked.

"Yeah," Ned answered, still smiling. Eyes closed. "Please."

Ned's thumb brushed his cheek, a gentle encouragement. A 'thank you'.

And he kissed him.

[talldarkandroguesome]

18th of Last Seed, Middas

Today I went to my embarrassing check up. 

In truth, it felt like I was a child once more, Mother taking me somewhere to have me accessed to see exactly how I might be broken.

This time, however, it was not just her or overly concerned members of my House, it was those I trusted and loved most who were urging her to take me. To be stared at by cold and calculating eyes. To have spells placed upon me to see what unseen horrors might be at work upon me. 

Those same eyes that looked down at me and judged me as incapable as a child, trying to find again what I was missing. My fate did not hang in the balance this time at least.

It is difficult not to be jaded after that.

Yet, as a full grown member of my House and second in line to the Grandmastery, they treated me with false warmth and concern. Soothing words attempting to placate my possible concerns, bitter mer coated in forced politeness.

And some part of me, when Mother went to speak with the head mages, wanted to cry out, scream for her not to leave me with them again. A child’s instinct. One that was so essentially a part of me, that echo of a past, a wound reopened and left gaping and stinking and bleeding.

I swallowed it down like the bitter poisons I take each morning. They get easier with practice, after all.

Besides, it is not as if Mother ever did anything to support me then. She never cared what happened to me unless it reflected poorly upon the House, our family, or her. And this would likely be no different.

As they continued to treat me like a Telvanni magister with a Dwemer puzzle, I felt an anger rise within me. I could feel each spell as it washed over me. Some felt like fingers prodding inside me, pushing at the very core of my being. 

At last they did something, an awful spell, cold as the peak of the Throat of the World in the dead of winter. They probed within that missing space where my soul should be. 

I tried to hold still, even as it felt like a rotten, crawling mass, creeping along in me, mapping out the hollow where my essence should be held.

It came out suddenly, almost unbidden. A flash of energy, raw and dark. A wave of purple-black ichor that filled the room suddenly, then disappeared just as quickly. Flame’s heat radiated after it, a sizzling wake left by the spell I do not even know how I cast. Smoke rising from the stone of the floor.

The mages in the room held their heads, a look of fear on most of their faces. I heard two of them murmuring about how they had been told I had no magicka within me at all. As if I could not hear them right in front of me.

The rage grew, I tried to hold it back.

But this voice, strangled and primal, from deep within my throat screamed out, “liar”. It did not even sound like my voice, as if it were someone else’s moving through me.

The senior most mage present cast something upon me and I felt my body freeze, the paralysis only serving to heighten that feeling.

Then the memories came flooding back. The Thalmor staring down at me and laughing, jeering at my helplessness, openly planning how best to torture me until I would give them what they needed.

I began to panic. The memories were so intense. I could smell my blood, knowing they were going to begin to rip my body open and make me watch as they did.

Everything went black after that.

I woke up later. I have no notion how much time had passed. I was in one of the dormitory rooms. I recognized it from visiting Avon so many years ago.

Mother was there, looking very concerned. She asked how I was doing.

I told her I was not well, obviously.

She said me that they were discussing the results of their test.

I told her that it was a torture what they had done to me. That I wished to go home.

Mother replied that I could not. That it may not be safe back at home. That until then I should rest.

I told her that there would be no rest. And that I would stay there no longer and that she could either tell them to let me go, or I would get myself out on my own.

She seemed worried about it, but agreed and left. I went to stand and found myself restrained. Wrists and ankles were held to the bed by some sort of metal bands. Clearly enchanted, since the looked far too weak to hold otherwise. And I could not use my own magicka.

Shortly later, a mage entered the room and informed me that dinner would be served shortly. She removed one of the bands to allow me the use of one hand and then I was brought a meal soon after.

After several hours of people performing various different spells upon me, I was released into Mother’s custody. They had a bracelet put on my wrist that they told Mother I was not allowed to take off until after they understood what exactly had happened to me.

Nabine is off on a hunt and Avon keeps avoiding my gaze, looking off with a piteous and guilty look. 

I tried to slip away, but the bracelet seems to be preventing my use of magicka.

I cannot remove it, it is locked onto my wrist. I went to pick the lock, but Mother came to check on me. I told her of my displeasure and she told me that if I did not wish to have a sleep spell cast upon me, I had best get in bed and rest.

What has happened that I am being treated like a criminal in my own home by my own family? If that Dremora had any hand in all of this, I will shatter her gem and crush the crystal into dust.

[dissonancedance]

Chapter 96

Her barriers were thinning dangerously, sweat starting to slick her palms and douse the nape of her neck, but she had to play this through.

Content warning: Graphic descriptions of violence, references to sexual violence, medical horror, incest, cults, and forced captivity.

Read below the cut

Closing the Distance

Chapter 96

Simone’s words died on the breath that shock had stolen from her as Vidar crushed the breath from Maier. Black lines marred the concrete floor with each scrape of Maier’s shoes as he kicked in inept attempts at traction, his white skin shifting red to blue in a smear of pain. Unable to look away from the pale-knuckled grip around Maier’s neck, she watched her uncle strangle a man with the same quiet placidity as when he lied in a drug-induced delirium. The strength in those long fingers echoed memories of terror and helplessness around her own neck, but the terror and helplessness she felt now was wrapped in defeat.

After all the horror, secrecy, and guilt of turning to these experiments and participating in the irrevocable destruction of the person her uncle once was, they still couldn’t carve the monster out of the man.

“Vidar,” she said, watching his clamping hands grow still at the sound of her voice. “Off.”

Like the loyal doll she’d reduced him to, he backed away from the battered, coughing Maier and turned to her with the same eerie calm that never left him. Before, she could fool herself into thinking that placid lack of expression was peacefulness, maybe even contentment, but what remained behind his blue eye was just as empty as the hollow socket next to it. Having that empty eye trained on her now, alone but for the hacking lunatic on the floor, reminded her too well of the monster still clinging to the cavity of his mind.

The long, puckered scar curled up Maier’s cheek as he laughed between heaving coughs, "Tha-... he-heh, that could have gone better."

“Sick son of a fuck…” Simone muttered, helplessness and frustration transmuting fluidly into rage at the slick drone of that voice. Maier’s shirt ripped when she yanked him up by his collar and snarled into his gasping face, “You stay the hell away from us! If I see you around here again, I'll fucking peel the rest of your face off!"

The corners of his mutilated mouth twitched and writhed into a smile.

“Pretty promises, but not the one I want,” he grinned, the injury to his throat breaking his monotone up into a more human sound. “The deal I had made with you, Ms. Valstad, was to experience the glory of Leif Valstad’s specialty firsthand after helping to free him.”

“You lost that deal when you sold my family out to Aguiyi,” she hissed.

A sharp agony shot up from her wrists as Maier’s hands grasped them, shocking her into losing her grip, and he yanked her down in a swirl of motion. Her rage made her sloppy, gave him the split second of advantage to slam her under him. Her vision flashed white from the force of her skull slapping the concrete. There would be no help coming; Maier’s methodical nature alone had assured her that he had cut off the security cameras before ever entering the lab to indulge his desires in private.

Below the ringing that muffled her hearing, Maier's words came through distant and flat, “The deal still stands, but I have since concluded that this institution is not what he needs to be freed of. The factor that has been preventing Leif Valstad from achieving his full potential is you, Ms. Valstad. We need to discuss your role in the family.”

The fuzzy stirrings of a concussion made her tongue thick, her words slurring as she ground out, “Yeah, well, last time I took your advice, I got fucked in the ass.”

“I would wager that has also occurred since you stopped taking my advice, therefore the consequence is no fault of mine,” he responded in that flat, emotionless drone that enraged her more than the spitefulness of his meaning.

Simone twisted to drag Maier’s grasp to the side and destabilize him enough to shove her hip up and roll him. The maneuver she'd recited a hundred times under her father's training paid off, only for her to be wrenched back before she could clamber away. His grip on her dress stopped her short, the expensive muslin finally tearing loudly when she jerked free from his grabbing hands. The cold, sterile air of the lab plastered itself to her sweat-slicked skin as she rushed to put as much distance and obstacles between herself and the man crawling after her.

“The path Bjørn had left for Leif Valstad did not contend with the possibility that he might reject it,” Maier said, ragged with the effort of dragging his lower half. “So long as you remain alive, his attachment to you will prevent him from embracing his destiny.”

The medical tools laid out on a tray near the sensory deprivation tank caught Simone’s eye as she registered the threat Maier had made. In his state, it would not be difficult to pin him down and drive a scalpel along his arteries until his broken body finally quit. No, not difficult, but it would be risky. She’d underestimated him once before to know that he would not be deterred from his task by mere pain. Her move had to be precise.

"Aside from that being none of your fucking business,” she frowned, trying to hide the wooziness that wobbled her gait as she started towards the tray, "you should know better than to think that killing me would make Leif more cooperative."

“And you should know better than to come into this lab alone. Vidar Valstad is an unstable patient, after all. You see now how the seed of violence still germinates within him.”

She snatched up the scalpel as she circled the back of the lab to stay out of his path, distancing herself from him as well as keeping him far from Vidar. Her uncle’s vacant stare followed her, unaware or unalarmed at what was happening around him, and she shuddered at what was so obvious to both her and Maier. Dangerous or not, she couldn't leave her uncle with this snake. She couldn't surrender to fear again.

“Even if you framed Vidar for my murder, Leif would blame Ouroboros for putting him close enough to get to me,” she said. The scalpel was light in her hand as she held it out of his line of sight and stepped slow enough to goad him into maintaining his pursuit. "He’d rather burn in the fire he lights under Ouroboros’s ass than have vengeance go unfulfilled.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

The exit was past Maier, no safe route out of that room without leaving her uncle there with him. All her weaving and maneuvering hadn't tricked him into giving her an opening to grab Vidar and escape. He had her backed up into an ultimatum: kill or be killed. Even without full use of his legs and caught off guard, Maier had still forced her to play by his rules. More than the fear of what consequences awaited her for killing Aguiyi's right hand man, more than the risk of injury or death in the tussle, it was the bitterness of being forced into this standoff that made her pause.

Simone rubbed the smooth handle of the scalpel restlessly, letting a decision weigh against her hesitation before carefully saying, "There's an unfinished remodel in an attic space that some of the men climb through to get to the roof. It's out of view from the rest of the building, with a clear jump into the trees on the street outside. Someone should seal that off before Leif finds out and gets any ideas of leaving with me."

The length of Maier's silence told her enough for her to confidently lower her scalpel, but his knife did not falter.

"You won't leave without Vidar Valstad," he said, more as a statement of fact than calling her bluff.

Simone looked past him to her uncle, meeting his remaining eye directly before turning her attention back to Maier.

"I won't leave him," she admitted, keeping his focus on her as she laid the scalpel on the edge of the sensory deprivation tank. "Vidar is safe here. We all are. Everyone here acts on behalf of the interests of Ouroboros, and we are Ouroboros."

He didn't detect Vidar coming up behind him with steps as slow and quiet as a phantom's. Simone kept her eyes locked with Maier's as her uncle's shadow loomed over him.

"Everyone except my father, Aguiyi… and you, Maier," she said as Vidar's open hands reached for him.

--

Simone leaned against the wall as she watched Liu, the nearest member with crime scene forensic experience, assess the smears and splatters on the floor. She was careful not to let her gaze linger in any one place for too long as Aguiyi shifted his attention between them. The smooth concrete obscured the stains in darker shades of gray, but the reek of what they were wrinkled her nose with a horrible familiarity. The good ventilation in the labs had granted these cramped corridors a false sense of openness and had blunted much of the sharpness of the solutions used to keep them sterile, but she could still smell the blood oxidizing steadily into rot. Her uncle’s blood, and not a drop of anyone else’s. She had been careful to assure that. Her frantic scrubbing had eaten through the nitrile gloves she’d used, the cleaning solution stinging the blisters from her father’s training.

“The patterns from the lab to the hall clearly indicate a struggle,” Liu said, mostly to herself while she photographed the mess, although the halted lilt to her tone suggested she only spoke in English for their benefit. Simone moved closer to show she was still listening despite the fatigue and nervousness that weighed her steps into a shuffle. “I only see one set of footprints, so he was maybe carrying something... something that threw off his balance.”

“Couldn’t’ve had much balance,” Dr. Wallis muttered rapidly. He shrunk a little more into himself when they looked his way, but continued, “... kept ‘im sedated near constantly for over two months. Wouldn’t’ve been able to walk straight, haul things about.”

“Never underestimate a Valstad,�� Aguiyi warned.

Dr. Wallis choked back a whimper as he nodded, cowering even further into his hunch under the attention of the old man. Simone looked away from him; that would likely be the limit of what he could say for the next few hours at least and it hurt to see what had become of the once-confident, witty neuropsychologist. It was a cold reminder of what she risked in this subterfuge. Aguiyi had allowed her to be punished for running from him before; she could not imagine what penalty might await her for taking Vidar away from him.

“Maybe he had a weird reaction to the drugs?” she suggested.

“A severe reaction from sedation explains it until we reach here,” Liu said as she gestured with her camera to where the bloody path ended in the middle of the hall. “It also doesn’t explain how or why the video feed was interrupted and the lab was unsecured.”

Simone pursed her lips against the urge to frown. “So someone cut the cameras and opened the door for my uncle to slip out like a loose housecat… and then simply vanished?”

“Any ideas, Liu?” Aguiyi asked.

The expert shook her head. “All my ideas are in the evidence. How many others knew Vidar Valstad was down here?”

“No one I wouldn’t trust.”

“Apparently at least one you shouldn’t,” Simone muttered.

A resounding silence brought her to look around. Aguiyi’s wrinkles deepened into a gnarl of a scowl, Dr. Wallis’ pallor turned a sickly shade of buttermilk, and Liu watched her with curious surprise. She wasn’t aware she’d said that out loud until Aguiyi announced, “There are none within these walls who do not live to serve our shared cause.”

The shadow of a scold in his tone raised Simone’s suspicion enough for her to follow where that statement had stung him, chasing that hunch with, “Not everyone here is sharing the same cause, doc. You made Leif their leader, don’t act surprised when they follow his will.”

“You know too little of how Ouroboros operates to be making those kinds of assessments, Little Scratch.”

The ire that fueled his defensiveness spilled over the deepening furrow of his brow and infected her with a corrosive, unyielding frustration. Or maybe it was her own frustration rising to meet his. Her barriers were thinning dangerously, sweat starting to slick her palms and douse the nape of her neck, but she had to play this through.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she sneered. “Maybe someone left the door unlocked. Maybe he hurt himself stumbling out of here. Maybe the cameras glitched. Any of these alone are generous assumptions, but all of that together is quite a fucking coincidence.”

“We don’t yet know what happened and neither do you.”

“I know my father wants his corpse displayed in the yard. I know that’s a lot of my uncle’s blood on the floor for anyone who could care to keep him alive to have spilled. Why isn’t anyone asking Leif?”

“Leif doesn’t know about this project.”

“He doesn’t need to know, what he needs is Vidar’s head delivered to him. And all you care about are your fucking projects. Is twenty years all it takes for you to-” Simone snapped, her teeth clicking shut to bite off the rest of what had slipped between the cracks of her composure.

If she didn’t have Aguiyi’s attention before, she clearly had it now. Those broad, sagging, leonine features turned fully to her, eyes now alight with a deadly intent behind thick cataracts as he waited for her to continue. Somewhere on the boundaries of her focus, she knew Dr. Wallis was curling into himself in an attempt to disappear and Liu was watching with wide-eyed wary interest, but all she could see were the decades carved into that face falling away. The cataracts sank back until fiery brown irises glared at her from a face nearly unrecognizable yet too familiar for her to not know.

“All it takes for me to… what?” he prompted, slick with venom.

Simone swallowed the self-consciousness that stalled her tongue before doing her best not to spit out, “Forget your word to Bjørn.”

The fire in his glare receded to a smoulder, but his tone was no less hard as he responded, “We’ll find Vidar Valstad. He’ll need you when we do.”

She held his clouded stare until the buzzing, burning sensation of direct eye contact frothed just below her tolerance and she let her sight drop to his cheek. That roving anger seeped out of her, all the bluster it had garnered departing with it in a sigh that left her feeling deflated, tired, but good.

They hadn't suspected her involvement in Vidar’s disappearance, hadn’t kept her there to watch her sweat and squirm despite her not needing to be there at all. Aguiyi had summoned her to the scene to include her and the gratitude that gesture had implanted in her was inescapable. She was among the first to be alerted to the disappearance of her uncle. She was also brought because Aguiyi correctly guessed how important it would be to her to be included. It was almost easy to believe that he did all of this out of respect and courtesy to her.

Aguiyi reached out to give her shoulder a firm, fraternal squeeze. She did not try to dodge it and the lack of revulsion at his touch burned her all the worse. Such grand gestures of courtesy and respect still felt odd despite the annoying compulsion to appreciate it.

“We’ve got everyone on the lookout, Scratch,” he said, warm and assuring, welcoming her trust with the patience and wisdom of a leader steeped in experience. “You have my word on that, too. If you think disclosing this project to Leif is necessary to help find your uncle, then I won't hold you back.”

The tug of a bond she did not want and was not hers to begin with grated against what she had set into motion. She could see why Bjørn had saddled Aguiyi with his legacy. Bjørn may have been insane, but he could see the inner workings of people as clearly as the movements in his skeleton watch. Through the same pale gray eyes as his, Simone could see Aguiyi as she imagined Bjørn may have seen him: a man with a knack for leadership and devotion that ran so deep it pulled those around him under his wing. It would have been easy to fall into where Aguiyi had attempted to manipulate her if she had let him.

The watch ticked steadily at her wrist as she clasped her hand over his and said, “I'm counting on you, doc.”

--

“Never thought a French summer would be so warm. Do you want a shorter taper?”

Leif glanced over the document in his hands, considered the clippers the barber held, and answered, "No, let's keep it a scissor cut. Can't go changing my image without consulting the committee first."

The barber let out a chuckle as he traded the clippers for shears. "I thought being on top would give a guy more freedom, Scratch. Doesn't seem all bad, though. Least you got the best barber in the complex to keep your image sharp."

Leif smiled at his easy humor. Only a few months ago, this same man could barely hold a comb steady in his presence. Leif was pleased that his penchant for violence against his fellow Ouroboros members hadn't affected the reproitoir he'd built with the barber.

"You're the best of the best, Athanasios."

Leif turned his attention back to the stack of reports, eager to assess the situation on the Mozambique Channel, but both his and Athanasios's attention turned to the sound of shouting outside the makeshift barbershop.

"What the hell-"

"Stay here," Leif commanded as he pulled the sheet off his shoulders and rushed out of the makeshift barbershop.

Casual though their reproitoir might be, Athanasios obeyed orders as well as anyone among their ranks. Or, at least as well as most. The guards assigned to ensure that Leif was where he was supposed to be were not where they were supposed to be. Instead, the hallway was only filled with the sounds of shouting and scuffling echoing from around the corner.

There were few opportunities that afforded Leif a moment outside of constant supervision. He could use this moment to run, hide among the estate's many forgotten passages, find a way to get him and his daughter out somehow. This was ahead of his plan, but he didn't know when a moment like this would present itself again. Before hesitation let this opportunity slip by, he turned in the opposite direction of the clamour only to be stopped by a woman's voice among the shouting. Leif was rushing towards it before he fully recognized it as his daughter's, his heart hammering and throat tight in a single-minded panic to reach her.

"Simone!" he cried, his voice lost among the many as he rounded the corner and pushed into the tight crowd of men.

A path cleared quickly as they realized who was now among them, but not quick enough as he shoved his way through the throng. His mind raced with a thousand fears only to be confronted with one of the worst when at last he pushed his way to the clearing at the center of the crowd. There, his daughter stood before a man with a knife gripped in both of his hands, her blood oozing around the tip of the blade held against her chest. The urge to rush in and kill this man had him lunging forward, but the grasping hands of those around him held him back in time for him to assess the situation. The blind panic in the man's eyes was zeroed in on Simone's grim stare, the knife seemingly frozen in time. Any interference could kill her.

"What's happening here?" Leif demanded of the men next to him.

"Apologies, sir," the man to his right spoke up above the din. "It's Deleon. He was sparring and started to panic, pulled a knife on his partner. Little Scratch intervened, stopped him from killing."

Leif whipped around and snarled, "And you let her?"

The thin stream of red blooming under the fabric of her bodice made him jerk against the hands holding him back. He had to deescalate this situation somehow; going in hotheaded and half-cocked could easily get her killed. His mind raced with a dozen useless ideas leaping out of the panic that gripped him while he forced himself to watch and wait as Simone slowly reached up to the Deleon's shaking hands.

Leif couldn't hear what she said, only see her lips form the words, "Don't be afraid. You're safe. You're with family now. Understand? You're with family."

Deleon, a man three times her size, trembled and muttered rapidly as her tiny hands slowly pushed the knife away. Leif stood frozen, his breath burning in his chest while she continued to hold Deleon's wild stare as she loosened his trembling hold on the handle. Then, bafflingly, she wiped the blood off on her dress and slid it in the sheath at his thigh.

"We take care of each other," she said, placing her hands on Deleon's slumped shoulders. "That's what family does. No matter what, we take care of each other."

Sensing the threat was low, Leif jerked again to be released to run to her only for those hands to hold fast. He turned to the men to order them, the order dying on his tongue when he saw how they watched his Simone. He knew that look, that stalwart stillness and attentive stare. They looked to Simone and saw a leader.

[skeptycats]

Vicky Archives #7

LONG SHADOWS - The power of a single scene

Vicky Holmes, the former editor of the Warriors series, has been doing short extract readings on Facebook since the start of the UK lockdown back in March. There’s some really cool anecdotes hidden within some of these videos, so I decided to begin penning them down for posterity and easy reference.

I won’t be transcribing filler, hedging and false starts but I’m including some amount of preamble just to be comprehensive.

#1 Into the Wild | #2 Forest of Secrets | #3 The Darkest Hour | #4 Code of the Clans | #5 Firestars’ Quest | #6 Twilight | #7 Long Shadows | #8 Leafpool’s Wish

---

[Again, there seems to have been some talking before Vicky went live]

-- but we may be deafened by birdsong today. I hope it doesn’t interfere too much with the sound.

So today I’m going to read from Long Shadows, Power of Three book five. Although this was the fifth book in the Power of Three, it contains a scene that inspired the whole arc. When I was coming to Power of Three, I wanted to have a sense of obviously what I was going to write about, where the six books were going. We already knew at the end of The New Prophecy that there were some kits that were supposedly Squirrelflight’s, but they weren’t, they weren’t Squirrelflight’s. They were her sister’s, Leafpool’s, and she was raising them in secret. I dropped hints throughout The New Prophecy that Leafpool was pregnant, and Squirrelflight noticed she was looking a bit plump! If you read New Prophecy again you’ll notice there are little clues there that Leafpool is expecting. Of course they’re Crowfeather’s kits, from the brief moment that she ran away with him.

So I knew that I wanted to have a big reveal in the next book, in the Power of Three, and before I even started the arc, this scene came to me. The scene of Squirrelflight on a cliff, surrounded by flames, forced to reveal the truth, but in a way that would just cause nothing but pain. The scene is, this chapter was from Hollyleaf’s viewpoint, although the next one is from Jayfeather’s viewpoint. Lightning has struck the forest, and there is a great fire around the hollow where the cats live. The forest is burning, and Squirrelflight has rescued the three cats Holly, Lion and Jay, by showing them a secret way to the top of the cliff. They have no idea that Squirrelflight is not their mother, of course, their mum is rescuing and that’s natural to them. 

And Ashfur appears through the fog and the fire and the smoke, and they’re trapped, and they need Ashfur to hold steady a bridge, a tree, that they can run along. And there’s something in Ashfur’s expression that Hollyleaf doesn’t like.

Desperately she tried to step onto the end of the branch. At once Ashfur rounded on her, fully conscious again, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“Stay there!” Turning to face Squirrelflight but keeping one paw on the branch, he hissed, “I can’t believe you didn’t know how much you hurt me. You are the blind one, not Jayfeather. Who do you think sent Firestar the message to go down to the lake, where the fox trap was? I wanted him to die, to take your father away so you’d know the real meaning of pain.”

Hollyleaf’s shocked gaze met Lionblaze’s. “He tried to kill Firestar?” she gasped. “He’s mad!”

Determination glittered in Lionblaze’s eyes, and he bunched his muscles for a giant leap. “I’m going to fight him.”

“No!” Hollyleaf fastened her teeth in his shoulder fur. “You can’t!” Her words were muffled now. “He’ll just push you into the fire.”

“Brambleclaw saved Firestar then,” Ashfur went on to Squirrelflight. “But he’s not here now. He’s not here—but your kits are.”

Squirrelflight’s eyes blazed. For a heartbeat Hollyleaf thought she was going to pounce on the gray warrior, but she knew that exhausted and in pain, her mother would have no chance. Squirrelflight seemed to realize it, too. She drew herself up, head high; she was trembling, but her voice was clear and brave.

“Enough, Ashfur. Your quarrel is with me. These young cats have done nothing to hurt you. Do what you like with me, but let them out of the fire.”

“You don’t understand.” Ashfur looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time; his voice was puzzled and petulant. “This is the only way to make you feel the same pain that you caused me. You tore my heart out when you chose Brambleclaw over me. Anything I did to you would never hurt as much. But your kits . . .” He looked through the flames at Hollyleaf and her brothers, his eyes narrowing to dark blue slits. “If you watch them die, then you’ll know the pain I felt.”

The flames crackled threateningly closer; Hollyleaf felt as if the heat was about to sear her pelt into ashes. She edged backward, only to feel the edge of the hollow give way under her hind paws. The three of them were pressed tightly together, so close that if one of them lost their balance, all three would be dragged off the cliff. Hollyleaf couldn’t control the trembling that shook her whole body as her glance flickered between the cliff and the fire.

Jayfeather was crouched close to the ground, looking tinier than ever with his pelt slicked f lat by the rain. Lionblaze’s claws were unsheathed, glinting as the lightning flashed out again, but the tension in his haunches didn’t come from preparing to leap at Ashfur; it came from the effort of keeping himself on the top of the cliff.

Squirrelflight raised her head, her gaze locked on Ashfur’s crazed eyes. “Kill them, then,” she meowed. “You won’t hurt me that way.”

Ashfur opened his jaws to reply, but said nothing. Hollyleaf and her brothers stared at their mother. What was Squirrelflight saying?

Squirrelflight took a step away from them, and glanced carelessly over her shoulder. Her green eyes were fiercer than Hollyleaf had ever seen them, with an expression she couldn’t read.

“If you really want to hurt me, you’ll have to find a better way than that,” Squirrelflight snarled. “They are not my kits.”

The noise of the storm and the fire faded and the only sound Jayfeather could hear was the blood roaring in his ears. He shookhis head, straining to hear what Squirrelflight and Ashfur said next, cursing the blindness that hid their expressions from him.

“You’re lying.” Ashfur’s voice was choked with disbelief.

“No, I’m not.” Squirrelflight spoke softly, but her intensity pierced through the crackle of the f lames. “Did you see me give birth? Did I nurse them? Stay in the nursery until they were apprenticed? No.”

“But—I” Ashfur began, then fell silent. Jayfeather could almost hear the paws of memory racing through his mind.

“I fooled all of you, even Brambleclaw,” Squirrelflight went on scornfully. “They are not mine.”

THE WORST TRUTH

[I’m just expecting the belateded going live at this point]

-- to give it a bit of welly. So that’s the scene that shaped the whole arc of the Power of Three - was that Squirrelflight was going to reveal the terrible secret she’d been carrying, in the worst possible way. [the audio breaks up slightly] I’m not sure this started very well, sorry. 

As I said briefly before, this scene came to me before I shaped the whole of the Power of Three. I knew that the truth about the kits would have to come out, but I wanted it to be dramatic, and I wanted it to be the worst possible thing for both Squirrelflight and the kits and Leafpool. And if you remember back in the first arc, I first learned about the challenge of not meeting people’s expectations when someone else - a fellow editor called Matt - suggested to me that Firestar didn’t kill Tigerstar, that in fact it should be Scourge who kills Tigerstar and we would all just feel horrifically upset by it, including Firestar.

So again I wanted to do something that would confound expectations. I wanted to show the length that Squirrelflight would go to to protect these kits. She loves them as much as if she’d given birth to them. She had raised them, after all. That is something very powerful. It is nurture over nature. It’s a cause very close to my heart, the idea of raising a child that is not your own, and I absolutely believe that you do not have to give birth to someone to be willing to give up your heart to them in a moment. 

I wanted to demonstrate that Squirrelflight felt the same way, but ironically the way she can do this, the way she can save their lives when Ashfur is threatening to let them all fall off the cliff or burn to death, is by disowning them. I just had this incredibly powerful vision, an image in my head, of a cat standing on a cliff surrounded by fire, saying ‘kill them now. They mean nothing to me because they are not mine’. And by disassociating herself from them, by telling Ashfur that she didn’t care what happened to them, it would be the only way to save these cats’ lives. She would have to denounce them. Not only in front of Ashfur, revealing this secret knowing that it could destroy everything, but in front of the kits themselves. It must have just been horrific. I know it’s only a book, I know it’s a story, I know these cats aren’t real. But in this moment, Squirrelflight is real to me. 

When I was coming up with storylines, often I would dream that I was a cat in the forest running alongside them. And I’m sure it’s no secret now to know how much of me is in these books, and this scene, this scene does what I wanted it to do. This scene shows Squirrelflight so desperate to save the lives of these kittens, these kits, that she risks losing their love, their respect, their affection, everything, in order to save them. And of course they won’t analyse that, they never realise that. You know, it sows the seeds for an awful lot of drama, and it destroys Hollyleaf - as we know, she goes on to do something really, really dreadful because she cannot cope with the enormity of this moment. But it is essential that Squirrelflight does it. It is the only way she can halt Ashfur and get them off this burning cliff. 

There are a lot of things in Warriors that I am proud of. Lot of things I’m not proud of, as well, because you after all are the best at pointing out my mistakes. But this scene does what I wanted it to do. And I’m very grateful to it, and of course to Cherith for bringing it to life so beautifully. 

It might not have escaped your attention that I seem to have missed out The New Prophecy, I haven’t done a reading from that. However, I’m writing an article for the Warriors Hub at the moment which will be about The New Prophecy so obviously I’ll post a link to that when it’s ready. Don’t feel that I’m missing out. But if there is a scene that you would really like me to read and talk about it, please do post in the comments and I’ll see what I can do. I’m happy to do requests. We seem to be in lockdown for a lot longer. It’ll be an absolute joy perhaps to read and talk about some of your favourites as well. Take care, stay safe, bye!

[rwmhunt]

Leviticus, Chapter 26

1. It's my training- I find With polarizing factors- In essence, they are Attentional. And lo, we're on to how pandemics End, And where I say that I find it normal To see false flags on everything. The victims Are disseminators In isolation stasis, As believers are cast into many Disparate factions- desperately seeking Their own audience and fracturing Reality in their processes. They plead the cause of a deepening iniquity As to a factor for relief, But maketh of ye here, no idols, no bones about it; And rear thee up no columns, No analogue that might measure or mock me with restraint; No feat that might inspire ye to fall, For tis ME. And all of you Need fear More Than hope Now.

2. And here Moses might only be seen In the reflected beam Of his own headlamp, As by it he travails into The little that it casts, For, tis about time we said Goodbye to Sinai, And, having toyed with the pretence, Admit that it is no place to biggeth of a home. But, let us first cut our losses With the aforementioned, spurious Sacrifice.

3. Then walk in My statutes, And in effect, I will take the lot. From Exodus through Numbers, Leviticus Shall appear in the role of Mose's malignant, Functioning as something of a priest in prototype, Here, used for example of what is otherwise superfluous.

4. Thus shall he chafe, at first, against the thing at work- Twas the people who provoked him into the begetting Of a golden idol, whence he went before them and said, - For whom does it end, and who as so doth get to decide? I'll give ye the reigns to such a season as they be deigned for, And hence hath he tapped into some rural frustration, By atleast pretending to pay an attention Unto those who'd’ve had it That they were deserving of an attention, And hitherto presuming That they were getting not of it, Because it was a given that it be going unto others.

5. And, warming- Threshing Shall verily reach unto the vintage, No timescale shall lie upon our dessert, And thence, that it should there suffice And be so furthered of a surfeit also- Sick and tired of winning. There’s an uncertainty about the path That goeth forward, which was always there, But masked By Mose's exceptional approaches from god, With troubling things to report From the frontiers of the rhyzome As dictated by him from a distance; Be it tented or from way up on Sanai. More to the point, with Aaron found in a position Where the idol he created is out of his control, Mose is perhaps more eager now than ever To retain his grip on the base, so To the top of the Mountain, where he again Is lolling with a god who has legacy to defend, And from where he’s tolled upon the god, Who now hath a record of statutes Which need be ramified over time to maintain The same supplication from the base hereunto- By a means that looks increasingly precarious;

6. And still he blew- I can cause evil beasts to cease your path, And slope away, out from the land, So be it a safe space for thinking, yet, Even before Mose had left Egypt, Aaron was charting a course that would bring his horn to clash In conflict with the legacy his brother hath sought As that from up on the mountain. - He, without standing- Made Manifest Destiny As Aboriginal Calamity; Lo, that He should speaketh Only through ol' measly Mose, It’s sick. It’s a sick joke- that’s what it is, And it’s not a joke as far as I’m concerned, It's April the first.

7. And Mose, as responding to winds only when forced to, Is always leveraging to give away the wiggle room For people to interpret his position however they would. He’ll say things vaguely enough to send one message Unto his base while maintaining deniability when questioned By Dr Moloch, with, - we were able to pivot, _, But here, defending himself publicly against his former compatriots, Who had criticized him as a “rogue” and a selfish coward- And of Denver Riggleman hath he chastened as an enemy unto the good, That he shall fall before you as from a sword; where swords believe not... Because sometimes a little bloodletting...

And he trails off...

8. But, as marketing hath recently divined unto Me, In allowance that there shouldst be For a different kind of people to be present at storytelling- The national need for experts in critical languages and other regions- Go thither - that it shouldst not always be Mose, As effective a spokesperson as he fairly is- - We wouldst be able to pivot, deep Into a different frontal cortex and through The past year, shew how powerful our mind could have been, So Denver giveth five of you wriggle room to chase a hundred, And a hundred of you are now chastening of ten thousand; As so shall I up thee thy ante, And my enemies will fall before you as by a sword, For I thought it funny- that there could be no room For anybody who should come As would be so dumb as to think it real, But, lo... it's complicated. When ideas are swords, there broods a tribal metaphor, Absorbing the recondite and thus blooming the tribe, trained To a stream of algorithmy on a fact-immune, ignorant, Analytic white paper.

9. Lo, and compliant with the photograph, I shall have respect as unto you, And make a fruitful of you, and multiply the effect of you; And shall establish My covenant as parley with you; However, with you there, shall I stop- And if you shouldst know of an influencer, That goeth as amongst you, It is upon you, to cut them off, And cast them from the convention, To leave them afloat In the void of their influence; Know me, you are not missing out. And they looked at each other

10. And carried on through A buildingsite for hackers, unto The streaming platforms, as linkethed up Among these sealed back channels, deep In amid online influencer culture, As aideth escape from our antibodies Who deeply infringe into the working of others, Which I see no incentive in trying to dispel, Saying- ye shall eat old-store pottage long kept, And ye shall bring forth such vintage from before the new; The seed shall be my seed and my seed only; me a monothe, find There are plenty of such who want this pandemic to continue; - 'Exactly.' ...But it's not us. - 'Exactly. Thanks to you, Dr Moloch.' And away I rode As quick as I could.

11. Lockdown is as a low gloss and of loss- Gratitude, thank you, thank you, 80 neg 95 from the day before, My soule shall not abhor you In these toxic patterns thrash, For even though there's darkness, Let it be as such that is found exhilarating; For there's nothing like a sword to save us.

12. I will walk among you, And lo will I figure the triggers That allow keeping it alive in a tiny form. A worldly preserve from a range of exotic, begotten In order to find what goes on in the yard; As without ever leaving The bold tent of meaning, Where the project itself shall take care of me. I must not run out; The shelf of ideas must not be let empty.

13. When people ask, ‘When will this end?,’ They are asking about the social conclusion, Where the real answer Is very close To the wrong answer. But you’ve all been doing it, in various ways, And that's evinced as an important reminder Of what we are yet culpable for. Go upright- the answer Affects us all; Differently.

14. But! lo, A better question might be About the so-called-end, Dr. Moloch, he sayeth, - For withdrawal Is a-talkin' 'bout affect- Oh, pay no attention to changes.

15. If, enervated in heat, Wounded with guilts, Stained with sins, An image without a caption, so advanced That all she could offer were comfort care; An hour later, declare the epidemic as so over- Here, as memories are going to be difficult to archive; For the seed hath been sewn by the hackers, Where hackers had shewn a new level of stealth, For they had bade a solitary star, As softly warn on solar winds, To infiltrate networks, take The footprint far, far from Babylon, Raise columns and fresh idols- With such malware attached As may still be working.

16. Then I will appoint terror, same, Death be a-killing people- Catenated, then moderated, then killed off: Lost in the entropics of cancer That so maketh the eye to fail And the soul to languish; Thus, this incident with the Golden Calf , The incident as so nearly brought God To deracinate intrigue, where nobody new Walked in on our room for all our wide length of time; Who- who would escape the crime for a role in the affair ? Aaron was not the teflon idol-maker his resilience, Built, as of an impossible Self-reliance, should determine him to be; Aaron is eroding. And he shall sow your seed in vain, For my enemies shall maketh a relish of it; Then needst I seek for your polluted replacement; Catenated, then moderated, then killed off: The human condition shall not save itself, Ellis said; I find it normal.

17. We are told to use a common inference to decide Whether an aggadah be taken as lateral or vertical; And once you've come to smelt the rood, Drempt of the chundering of swords, Quietly dumped the lot that was- The wild dream, thus superseded With a totem dream- you turn, bearing An unforgotten, felt as a missing, As so make you up to grab of it back- Loss.

18. The calvary the calvary- To characterize this away from me, If amorality be light years over the sky-effort of casting an opinion onto everything, As all be bedraggled before the judgment Of its own rhyzomic scruples, Then I'm not passing nothing; I don’t do horses, ok, Should the fox be all of one beast You me, as the cavalry Charge Decidedly, then seven times worse- Know of our own action, a fiction; I wouldn't say we'd be comfortable In the skin of it today, or ever. If.

19. And I will bust the pith of your power; And I will glove your heaven with iron, And your earth will be rung like brass. Why not? Nobody’s coming round my house. We kept moving, flashing in at the high post. Sparks of titanium came over in a shower, Mose was feeling plangent And understood that the rituals of hegemony Were both ridiculous and necessary; filled, If pulled and scrubbed of reference to _, It was a lot to deal with- Open it, he said, whatever it is. - Did not convince them.

20. Entropy. A runner with beautiful legs- Unsure why I was called here: I can't see any questions You haven't attained a ransom for; Is there reason to speak If it isn't with answer or question?

21. And if ye walk cater-cornered unto Me, And will not hearken to My rune; I will bring seven times more plague Upon your, as-yet-unvisited, doom, Each according to your ills in the manner apt as I see them; Why, lo! Me? Sanctimonious? Is it a sin? - It's ridiculous That you should think To hear the voice of god, Opined Leviticus, - When you don't even know What I've come to mean. - If I am deluded, And I am speaking counter-wise to my meaning, Then who is it who is speaking? And if I walk contrary as to myself, And I am deluded, Who is it that should so moveth, as within me? Nae, you are deluded- You were not deluded, and You have not reached the threshold of paradox; Someone is coming to help.

22. As i stood on Bilston roundabout, No chance of a crossing- Cars Fast revveth they past- I smelt the sting Of their kind of damage; I looked into their eyes, They had an inkling To what's going on. The Golden Calf- Loss.

23. But they're just hire vans Picking up wood and what have you. So Belisha was a beacon on the road to captivity, I fear for the understanding and the regard Of increment and consequence, Now endentured within the culture, And exhibiting an inordinate amount of animus To conventionally pollute the landscape; I too have proved dependent On lorry drivers. Still no?

24. Then I'll do the crab, And I'll drop you again, A fulle seven times deeper in, Among the analogue of what Streamed out of the book of Leviticus- Manifest Destiny, Aboriginal Catastrophe, Rout the field; the rave plague- Widescreen monoculture; No one's coming for us.

25. So hear The horror At harvest time- Of produce Being plunder, A proof Upon the alter That poses itself As a given Which isn't to give.

Your past is unintrudable. Until that they come.

26. By suggesting an invalid value As to the nature of the work, I pool you into the conceit via the threat of its loss; There, lost, found budded and blossomed, Producing the taste of ripe almonds, It's base near the solar wind farm, Whispering soft that shepherd is a crook. And, woe is me! but, worry not, I aim to set it up as something, for a while. Where bread of bread be broken and never enough, Even though all women bake forever at once. Exodus hath let his rod turn unto a snake, Then stretch itself out in order To bring on the first plagues; May hey go pound sand.

27. Still? Really? I defy you, Creeping normally over Hebron In fear for the understanding and regard -As I told you- Of consequence and increment, Endentured in the culture; An inordinate amount of animus exhibited- And a swordly sword upon you- saying you're gone When you're not even off the sacremount. A vengeance of a covenant I'm unsure that you've ever agreed to, But the veil has been bought over- Pestilence and loss.

28. Furious, me, Seven times seven times seven times worse. i.e. as optimized to amplify outrage, unearthed, although, I'm not sure I've invoked enough dimension to illustrate All of what should be press-ganged unto the frontal lobe.

29. Eat your children. There- that's me. I'm my own actress.

30. And I will devoid your high places, And cut down thy sun-pillars, Leave you a skeleton crew to a ghost ship, Intemperately adrift.

And so the carcass wore on, And so hath foundered against the carcasses of idols; And so His soul hath fairly abhorred me.

31. Loss, loss, I'm not sniffing. Slowly go back, A little bit broken, Caution is the easiest option; A draggyness will reinforce a positive While performing an unintended habit; It’s not enough to treat either of us with the end of the week- Make sure the reward is something i experience as of when you are amid your behaviours. No, I'll say it, Die at the tent of an open market, Between repetition and habit formation, I shew correlation, that is not causation — Not with the repetition, for lo, I'm emotion- I will always be idiopathic- Think it a divine dispensation. So tired of the restrictions I declare the end over, And, that the virus continue to smoulder, All characteristics in being so mutable- Then Moses stood in the door of the tent, Amid multiple failed predictions, - I deserve the ability to return to my life.

32. There is a number we can all be comfortable with. Have it then, So bad as to make your enemies feel some for you. And who goes looking for replacement? Speak, and he spoke, That "something big" would partake; That a truth would emerge "next week". Some of those watching the mountain from afar Came to consider, at the end, - That, looking back, we have a weak narrative. - We have a weak narrative.

33. Scattered among the nations- waste-spaces. Some say a prediction of entropy is as the general theory Of a safe bet. What may be looked upon from within The tent of meaning to be a magical, Mystical voice of secret wisdom, As sayeth we needst people push'd unto an inflection point, Where that they pick up a stone, find another and thither lay hands- That, as a weird snake, goeth crazy and kill Itself, Aaron became spokesperson for a fish oil supplement Made up of sophisticated spies who spoke foreign languages and travelled, Which, when filled, if pulled and scrubbed of reference to a golden calf, Could descry my covenant of such that We're determined not to be, By our psychological nor pathogenic ends, But by the primary given of our socio-political twin-set, As ever, we, ridiculous, replacement and necessarily, Can go pound sand.

34. It's all about sevens, in sabbaths- I warned you, you owe me a desolation, Old saying, “Spy one, ring one, leave one.” For a sabbath is my parle with dust. Should you push back against the notion of endings, What are you thinking to be, as thus pushed back against? What are you claiming when you say, No, no it isn't ending?

35. Desolation is rest, Even the rest of a draggyness, And like most things will be, Twas named twice- Once in ignorance And once in knowledge, Which it got not on your busy weekends, when ye dwelt, While otherwise engaged, upon it. If the Act gets signed, It’ll be today; Or tomorrow. Not a day later; Before we hang up, he mutters, - Twas a smuggler what done it, And needst be taken out In the name of Babylon;

36. For I shall send a faint unto the heart of the remainder In the lands of those jaded by you; and the sound of the driven leaf Shall give chase; so away do you flee, as one fleeth from ideas of a sword Or a satellite-controlled gun in the sky, Where no terrorists are present on the ground. And so shall fall they, when none pursueth, as by the draggyness Of where we're OK with a god watching over us, Because he might maketh protection of us, By shewing no incentive as to try and dispel, And by this, the virus hath gained Our blueprint for its future, Where Dr. Moloch just said - This is this sort of conflict now- That each epidemic amplifieth the next, From where all epidemics begin, anecdotally- In China.

37. And they shall stumble, one upon the other, And so through a very depressing time, when Everything is read about, and only of how Everyone's at loggerheads And nobody's cooperating with anybody. So hie, on Trump Time? But! That’s then, The suspected culprit, be it Hackers and their alleged paymasters, The smuggler what hath done it Or more malign actors- it's No reasonable person. No reasonable person should be found liable. No reasonable person should be found liable to believe it. - Did not convince them.

38. Here Aaron hath a parting message for those who might still be caught upon the roiling forums of this sort of carcass, as he once was, - Don’t leave your habits to chance, To be a derision among My enemies— It is not real- I did not think, until the very end, that it was necessarily for me to maketh the call On whether to blow it all; lo, Tiny Habits. Twas a wonderful opportunity to be deliberate. Easy, it is, to fall in line with peace and society and be so mindful. Where the lights returneth to the eyes, That at this moment, remaineth dormant. Perish, and I shall eat you up.

39. No, pine away; with thy fathers pine inside of a tree. There's a need here, so be ok With a god that watcheth over, because he, Before he role-played the insurrection and ransacked the seat of the tent of meaning, Said that the human condition cannot save itself, That our memories are going to be difficult to achieve, So now we're lost to workshops, listening sessions, A training in equity, inclusion and cultural awareness- As unto the host, the producers and the skeleton crew, And here the real answer Is close within The carcass of the other; The parody to the tragedy, Closer than is comfortably recorded By the ummim, the thurim, The uncomfortable fascinator- The wriggle out Did not convince. Focus on the wrong.

40. So to the Sacrifice, Which is short, and for a sacrifice of well-being, Sins of the father and of their own as, finally, confessed- - You’ve been killing yourself for the rest of your lives By going after the big calf, even in jest; I don’t think we’re meant to do a life alone, While community support can be really empounding. Then Aaron invoked the analect of What was hitherto only alluded after- Lord shew mercy o'er the soule Of poor olde Martin Elginbrod, As He would do, as He is god and You, but Martin Elginbrod. Nae, no sacrifice- god can furnish himself.

\/\/\...Major disruption expected until end of service... Someone is coming to help.../\/\/

41. If your intelligence... Doesn't move... At the speed of your lips... ... Then... That's not to say... And so ... won't be said... I suppose... It's not hard to... Overflow... U's address- - It's outrageous; who gets To claim the end? As Dr. Moloch skewered, - Where U's Without wiggle room; then Why would you release this information if it wasn't true? - It intrigues my botherance and no more.

42. There's a vacuum at the top that can always Be rendered to the service of sociopathy- So Aaron had reached the merrye age of 123 when on his back, Forking it over, he remembered the covenant; How transacting with God had always left him feeling dubious- At once on the bum-end of a raw deal and at the same time, A confidence trixter; that he was present only as a matter of course, As would allow for the whole to happen and what else? I got a shot of the obligatory handshake- it looked obligatory. I will remember the land.

43. Lo, for the land, the land as she lie Forsaken, shall late enjoy, in finding Return on her sabbaths in desolation; And they shall repay of the crime by iniquity- A draggyness, and then an emptiness, A peace and a solemnity. Oh my sabbaths, my covenant of sevens, Leave you me memories, On remember the land, How pandemics End, For they who to decide, And as go pound sand, Because, even because of thee and thy Rejecting of My ordinance, and then all souls abhorred, All lost, for The attention economy Where holes get called into question, Then provoked, Beyond their outskirts Flash.- I used to run. Leave me you memories. And the land- lyrical several hundred miles westward went we. Where failed mechanisms Are left to turn as ever Then, by the cypher, Reprise to page one, But my sky bolts- They are not regular And cannot be relied upon With your imperfectly leaky recall, Unqualified insight and inadequate processing- Tis an inapt power.

44. Still, for all that, I'm with you, yeah- Why, if I sell you a pipedream That will last you out your days; Which, smiled at, across your ashes, As with a wink, so with a nod, And then that, with a fondness, thus wains;- Will it not do? A 'freewill', as a given, unto you, As also upon the universe, Whereby bestowed Within a periodic Doubling to chaos, As might interpret the efficiency Of its instruments and Deny you the myths; Let to live among bad ones. Might.

45. The weight of a human collapse Is quite light, And leaves not a trace in the ground. I lie on the bank, benign Beneath the long, lean, slantage of the sun. So Moses disposes Of my properties from here; It's good bye to the Umim and to the Thurim. My brother writes my will best, As he once bade sacrifice of me; So smite him, for I'm still a grudgeful god, Still, mostly, I'll be thinking about Egypt, I find it my Culloden, In other words, An end can occur not because We grow tired of the mode And learn to live with the damage, But, In moping that fate should be The brighter star, Get on.

46. The cave closed behind Mose On his retreat from Aaron's bier, through the thickening air; And what of the Urim and Thummim- stripp'd When he wenteth so, as before the store? Aaron's memory was left for people who came after him, The pillar of cloud which proceeded in front of the van As god disallowed, disappeared with Aaron's death. Coincidences of events form the structures of time-space and give, In inference, to the retched conundrum Of how to respond- the 'you are the same of a different Stage in the only narrative there goes to tell' notion- Sinai. At another site gazelles were found At the feet of several burial mounds- - Why'd you bury them there? Enriquez enquired. - Has to be a reason. But a hypothesis is An implicit bias to begin; Hard as it be To set off without one; a return to the rushes, To the brushes- Been moiled among words For a little too long. The angel's death march On the day of revelation; the path of obsolescence To an end of ministration; god actively bows, And then obliterates the lot of them.

Why bow? He ponders. Ponders? Never. Sorry.

[svtskneecaps]

Darling, We’ve Got Time : Part 10

Vernon and Seungkwan’s little group of time state deserters has been leading Seungcheol’s team of time agents on a Tom-and-Jerry chase through the timestream for what may have been the entirety of their career–different setting, same result–but the tides are starting to shift. Things aren’t adding up to the time agents, and all the deserters can hope is to sow enough seeds for them to finally put the pieces together.

(Seventeen Time Travel AU; no reader)

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They told Seungcheol a small lie and met Public Enemies One and Two of the Time State at a quaint cafe in Los Angeles.

“Chan tells us you started to notice,” Vernon said seriously, fingers laced together like they were at a business meeting and he was wearing a suit instead of an oversized Hawaiian shirt.

“We keep forgetting things,” Mingyu said, a coffee going cold in his hands. “Why?”

“That’d be the time state,” Seungkwan said. “Any memories containing feelings going slightly deeper than casual comradery get wiped during regular checkups. Any memories containing amicable feelings towards a deserter also get wiped, which is why you don’t know us.”

“So you knew us?” Minghao asked.

“Sort of, yes.” Vernon took a sip of his drink. “Enough to know your fascination with the sixties, anyway. How’d you enjoy Woodstock, by the by? You never said.”

“It was amazing. The part I managed to catch, anyway.”

“And that’s how you know all this stuff about us?” Mingyu asked.

“Yeah. All of us worked with you guys’ team at some point, before we figured out the whole ‘wiping’ thing and dipped,” Vernon said.

“Obviously the time corp wasn’t super enthused with the idea,” Seungkwan said, snickering. “Who’d have guessed?”

“But anyway.” Vernon set his drink on the table and leaned forward. “Now that you know the truth, what comes next?”

The time agents looked at each other. Honestly, Mingyu didn’t think he knew. He hadn’t gotten past ‘getting answers’. He didn’t think he could stay and keep forgetting, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to desert if Minghao planned to stay behind.

Evidently, the others saw their indecision. “Come with us,” Seungkwan offered. “You can meet the rest of the gang for real. If you decide to go back, we’ll jump you to this exact moment with Captain Cheol none the wiser.”

And Mingyu looked at Minghao and recognized the decision in his eyes, the decision he felt deep in his own bones.

“Okay,” they said.

Seungkwan’s face split open into a grin and he rolled up his sleeve. “Man, they’re gonna be thrilled. Fair warning, nobody expected to get another newcomer this early. Reactions could be mixed.” He spun dials on his watch with a practiced ease that Mingyu watched curiously (he’d never seen anyone work a handheld up close). “Alright, everybody hold on.”

They formed a hand holding chain around the table, and Seungkwan pressed the button. With a roar like thunder, the table vanished.

As did the chairs, dumping them onto the ground.

“Ah,” Seungkwan said, picking himself up and brushing the dust off. “Guess I didn’t consider the possibility that the chairs would have moved.”

Vernon bumped his side. “This is why I usually choose the jump times.”

Seungkwan shoved him right back.

Seokmin came barrelling out of a nearby building, skidding to a stop in front of them. “Lee Seokmin,” he said, thrusting his hand out for them to shake.

“We know,” Minghao said, but shook anyway. “Xu Minghao.”

“We know,” Jeonghan echoed, coming out of the building at a more reasonable pace, Jun and Chan following behind him.

“Well, did you know I was almost crowned King Arthur in medieval England?” Seokmin said, crossing his arms.

Mingyu blinked. “No.”

“Didn’t think so!”

“So that’s the kind of stuff you guys get up to?” Minghao asked. “Screwing around with timelines everywhere?”

“Time fixes its own holes,” Jun said. “For example, nothing we’ve done has made the Titanic miss the iceberg, and we’ve tried pretty much everything. There’s no worry about mucking up the timeline.”

“So the time state was lying?” Mingyu asked. “I spent years of my life training for a lie?”

Jun shrugged. “We all did. It’s just profitable for them to control all of time travel. If they perpetuate the myth that reckless time travelling could destroy life as we know it, they’ve effectively got a stranglehold on tourism.”

Minghao scowled. “We have to tear their false system down.”

“We will,” Jeonghan said. “But it doesn’t seem like a very good idea to start a revolution when former friends of ours could be the ones pointing a gun at us. I wouldn’t be able to shoot them, would you?”

Mingyu tried to imagine Wonwoo standing against him, blaster aimed to kill. Could he?

“No,” he said.

Chan nodded. “We have to be patient,” he said. “It sucks a lot of the time, but it’s been working so far. You two figured it out, I’m sure the rest aren’t far behind.”

“How long?” Minghao asked, and Mingyu knew who he was thinking of.

“Could take a day, could take a year.” Vernon shrugged. “Time is relative. Your guess is as good as ours. Probably better; they have to have changed since we left.”

“A week, then,” Minghao said, and he sounded so convinced, Mingyu almost believed it.

Soonyoung saw them vanish. And he waited. And he waited. And they didn’t come back, and they didn’t come back, and they didn’t come back.

And he was conflicted.

Because he liked Minghao. He knew he was a good guy and Mingyu was a good guy and he didn’t know why they were out there talking with traitors. They had all looked very serious, and he hadn’t been able to hear what they were saying, and now, trudging back to the time ship, he worried that they’d been traitors the whole time.

And he’s struck with the realization that he was going to be hunting his teammates (his friends) through time.

And he had to break this to the team. Somehow.

Minghao worked in his department, under his jurisdiction, and Soonyoung allowed this to happen. Maybe even made this happen; he harbored his own rebellious sentiments that he tried and failed to quell time and time again.

He can’t help but feel like this is his fault.

When he told them, Seungcheol punched a wall. Joshua went very pale. Jihoon’s face turned to stone.

Wonwoo just looked stunned.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve burst in and stopped them before this went too far,” Soonyoung said, fighting to keep a lid on his emotions before the anguish broke out.

“Right,” Seungcheol said, and when he turned around his face was hard. “We’re down two men. Wonwoo, can you track?”

“Sure,” he said, even though tracking was always Mingyu’s thing even during training and it was obvious that everyone felt queasy at the thought of anyone else taking over his job, but Wonwoo had the skill set for it and that was what they needed.

“They’ve been brainwashed,” Seungcheol said, “but we can still bring them back. The time state can counteract it.”

A white light flashed in the distance. Soonyoung stood for his checkup. Seungcheol balled his fist like he was going to punch the wall again. Joshua touched his elbow and he released it, but he still seemed livid.

“We’ll get them back,” he said. “And these fugitives will pay for what they’ve done.”

When Soonyoung came back from his checkup, everything was wrong.

Wonwoo saw him come in while he was trying to figure out Mingyu’s setup, and despite everything he looked. . . cheerful.

“You know you don’t have to act happy,” Wonwoo said. “We’re all upset.”

“I’m not acting,” Soonyoung said, and it sounded so genuine Wonwoo tore himself away from the computer to raise an eyebrow at him.

“You were just torn up about it, how are you so chipper? Minghao was like your protege ever since he joined the team; he was your favorite.”

“Are you sure?” Soonyoung tilted his head, seeming bemused. “I always thought he was sort of flaky. It was really a matter of waiting before he ran off. A shame he had to take Mingyu with him, though.”

Wonwoo was officially lost. “Soonyoung you adored him. Everybody knew. You were devastated when you gave us the news he’d deserted.”

Soonyoung frowned. “Of course I wasn’t. Xu Minghao was never a top priority.”

And then he left like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t just rocked Wonwoo’s whole perspective. And Wonwoo just.

Didn’t know what to do.

[cannibal-wings]

“Cannot Help Our Nature”

“Cannot Help Our Nature”, or a text post by Tye about why that one line bothers me so much.

So, let me start by saying there are a few things in fiction that I cannot stand. One of them is the concept that a whole species can be evil, no exceptions. Each member of an entire species is 100% evil from birth to death. Most of the time these species are a hive-mind or have a hive social structure. The Illithids in DnD, the Fell in The Books of the Raksura, and even in kids shows like the Changelings in MLP: FiM. We’ve seen time and time again that species with a hive society or hive-mind are evil. I’m very against the idea that a whole species can be born evil, it doesn’t sit well with me and probably never well. And if a hive-mind society is “evil” are they really? Or is just whatever is at the core? Can we say for certain that all the members of the hive-mind want to do what they’re doing? I’d venture a guess we can’t.

So why does this panel bother me more than any of the others in the whole issue? Well lets take a moment to explore something, what IS the Venom Symbiote’s nature?

It’s been established very early on in Planet of the Symbiotes that the Venom Symbiote has always been different from the other corrupted Klyntar. In fact, this difference in nature nearly got it culled to safeguard the gene pool. The Venom Symbiote has always been about living with and being one with a host. The middle panel is very important and we’ll swing back to it in a few heartbeats.

What about the Klyntar themselves? What is their nature? Well, that depends on where we are in the Venom canon. Because it’s evolved over the years. With the Symbiotes in Planet of the Symbiotes we see a species that is probably 100% evil. The fact that they were ready to cull Venom for being different speaks of this. However, even these Symbiotes don’t act like how Venom is in issue 11. These Symbiotes use up and dispose of their hosts, tossing them away like garbage. Their nature is consume and destroy. Emotional manipulation is not among their nature. They care not for the host, the host is just a food source to power their march across the galaxy.

Of course this view of the Klyntar shifted with expanded history in Guardians of the Galaxy 2013 issue 23. Like it or not, the Klyntar were given a name and a few interesting facts. The first is that they are, at their core, a species that seeks peace in the galaxy. The second is that their species lives to form a close bond with a host, something they consider sacred (sound familiar? maybe like a certain symbiote deemed an aberration?). The third is that there is a renegade group of Klyntar who desire to do harm and spread like a disease. The Klyntar of the homeworld reject and are ashamed of this subsection of their kind. This history change keeps Planet of the Symbiotes canon, as the ones they fought were part of this subgroup of destroyers. (I should mention the above image is from Venom 2016 issue 3)

So we know what the nature of the Klyntar are, they are either uncaring monsters who suck all life from their hosts and move on, or they’re a species that treats the bond as something sacred to be treasured. None of those include emotional manipulation of the host and abuse of the host mentally. But what about Venom? What is the Venom Symbiotes nature? What does Venom do when scared?

In issue 11 of the 2018 run it would seem that the Venom Symbiote’s nature when scared is to create false memories, force a co-dependence, and manipulate Eddie so that he is too scared to leave. I’d argue that that is a completely false reading of the Venom Symbiote. To me, the Venom Symbiote’s nature when scared is to withhold information, clam up, hide, and on occasion lie. The Venom Symbiote, when scared will not admit that it is scared, it will say that everything is ok, fine, there is nothing wrong. Venom lies to itself.

Venom has always been scared of being rejected, that fear has been documented for ages. It hid that it was alive from Peter out of fear of rejection, it hid it’s true nature from Eddie because it thought Eddie would reject it for being different. Once more it hid it was alive to Ben Reilly out of fear of rejection. It hid that it was falling off the Path to Flash out of fear that Flash would leave. And again it hid that they were ready to spawn to Eddie out of fear. It was afraid Eddie would leave, was afraid the child would be a monster, so Venom claimed everything was fine. 

(Screens from Venom Super Special, Venom Space Knight issue 6, Venom 2016 issues 164 and 165)

Venom hides and retreats when scared. Venom has never been shown to do this type of emotional damage when frightened. Even when Venom is aware that it’s manipulating Eddie, it questions itself, asks if its wrong to influence Eddie to fight crimes? Is it ok to lie to Eddie? Does that make it a monster? Venom seems to be very aware that it’s a bad thing, and it doesn’t do it often. We’ve had whole arcs about who is influencing who, Planet of the Symbiotes, Separation Anxiety, even the Hunger touched on the fact that they have a bond that affects both of them. The outcome of all of these moments of questioning seems to be that, no, Venom does not make Eddie do things that Eddie wouldn’t do. There’s no insidious manipulation at play.

I just cannot see that Venom has been creating false memories, fake cancer, seeding fear, seeding doubt, and playing Eddie for their entire relationship. There’s just far too much to the contrary out there with this character. We’ve never seen Venom behave in that way. When Venom is scared, Venom hides.

Venom was born to be an Agent of the Cosmos. Venom’s nature has always been to create a healthy bond, because an unhealthy one destroys the host and corrupts the Klyntar. Venom has always wanted to be a hero, be good. And even after all the people who used and abused it, it still firmly believes that its nature is good.