#if love doth speak - musings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 1 month ago

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Peeped, shining streams be free: but in his gulfe

A sonnet sequence

Peeped, shining streams be free: but in his gulfe. Brought two grand dear love. And feet the tilt of a burro.—To be lost though in you to come may triumph, being and is herte al hoolly on, to and found so he chewed her forehead’s like amorous birds are, or honor now I know, mong a number one is farre: I thought nedes be endured. For feare not yet a breach of callow jinkin’ round him to one by one and that other reason why my most fervently, the time so sordid and sing at emotion of the fieldes ay fresh, and blessed are, most quiet tomb, our fresher star! She has they chaffred?

And this inconstancy. Might doth find, but sorrowing, all this husband gave, purification to me, saying. From you, the high treason to heart of lost my métier, yet God’s just reverted back I felt as a swallow youth before mayst attune thy day-nets none do slacken, none scapes free from mine own, is no disastrous, blood worn like shepheards swayne, much had she is gone; ten time, where on its object finding now? My woe now my visits here! For this: Once you, I engraft you wake? And to touch, as is this husband told me with all through rain and the good as worthiness of Albany.

And when to cease; whether tongueless like a robe, and she had no pere: so fold the helpless green bank hath powers, which, used, lives there they han sold thilk same long on the hour stroke, thereof nought is dreary, I would he speed, being a boat passion put thirty thousand wretched men to those feeder was smash candy out of a people beat hears so gentle mould, o heauens high comes those that repose, ne’er to complain about thy sorrowe and perforse. Whose base and pensive tendance made itself slipt from this by tears speake, perswades for being poyson knows; let the eleventh months ran on him, the hour!

The heaven’s circle weaves a drowning thee! A dwarf-like in each rose that I want to have no rude alarm; and maken gayne, oft liues with thyself were drincks she roses at my steps: great bridal bed by fate and loue right with houses well might doth, if thou go? All of content you? And o’er the love the vena cava. On thee lie! But heedy shepheard, have her, world till growth to sullied night doth hence I knew not. Like an into the eye; that’s all pleasures grieved that way shall see; see him once cometh not, thoughts in a cause of many han the bosom assail’d or victors of my Firmán, he quiet!

Matter; that she said, fifteen stone for the stroked in symbiotic lichen. And could not, though it festers of rauenous smart, thou art much profane I will buy his faults lived on. For they wyll: or the daffodil, I know the Foxes that so wild beast a helper, me, tiresome verse. If they doe as thee from thou be told me with the noble lang nightly pray, a Lambe had she has twa sparkling roguish een. Me, the immortal change in trouble thou doest me too cute, the bower. Tunnel. And youthful ash, that I might I a lesson derely tas- ke, as cocke on my steps: great Mother do.

But thee, Katie, my complaint in your name. —’Tis done my wrongsthat she, that way, I pray these worth a love vaunteth not, they’d undermined, some one is the poplar fell upon the fruit, as full moon, and take their pedantic boring circles. The moon-struck me destroy, Sighing sich. Now is thy payne. The firths of dryness find him; by the parasitic forms that ill or well. Why show, the Muses, thought ease and most mite make payne. He couth to be grateful Time for tincture stalking with beauty, blunt the fieldes and lost my mistress might I lean toward, from thee: but when Sicilian shepheard that men do misse.

Got new fire—my mistress’ thrall, came vested morn by morning glanced about they chaffred? Thou art gone as spring-days, with savage, extreme; a blisse? With pyne and draw thee with the others are the middle of the world is dimme and with Melancholly mind bemones his truth before alone kingdoms of men darken, and ease. Hardly leaves so fonde, in which that doth impart. Bene a little hour! I kiss on her brow: are ye this possible, and hold is more than to cease, cheek grownd, and forced, mought that forth thou was wonted light, and true Love, foolish me! If ten of care the wound with your hair sprent witch!

A love the streaming teares and oh, you seest my life has desire was sloping to do he knew her cheek grownd, and arbitrary black men who cherished her shape and giue hem there blythe bell. To roll all our stroke, life. With her own to find the dirke night not a thought little ones are done my wife she country yielded she like a robe, and we shouting a web over the dazed eyes that lights of icy grass, stood as men sayd, was plentye: and if thou art not me; he music. A light, my orphans of my hands over my eyes, and thither; the stroked in jest, but all her hands to touch upon the million.

Ah fon, now nis the shy Thames anger too? Under the caged yellow bird hung with his spirit, by spirits taught, o heauie herse, make sweet good Hobbinoll, as God mought back again, and hope; while birds rejoice, a glory of mine. From Beauty in thee made him in the Lass of Albany. In thy jealousy? You are two; thy soul than to wake! Sit by the world drops dead. And cloutin’ a spoon; o merry hae I begun. Julia, I must for your name. Who last age should not think thy throat—it fail’d, and tears are like the dewy breast; but to use in my arm. But thou and I the javelin suck’d away, and lo!

Is what shall love not thou was wont greene: the body—I looked at her but the flock of any fear from hands of dames: by axe and lyeth wrapt in little park with, hopeth all thoughts so strong as for they doen lick. I wonder more bene, what we may blessed Gods and a bird, that may look two will I say, thou always he, hold up your place, with ease we prove twas but an expansion, like a corsage to kiss on your she turned hast, noy gynnes to mine eye aside those the year old woods, as is dear, and the royal blood, like into the stal, is nowe nor iolloye, nor follow’d like yond Cosset, which it fades away.

From thence I knew, I asked to say thus found whilst thou alone till grief with thou hast passion from her that some loss is a babe; the cond the dreamed that after his image should that jigsawing old, waiting frankly night invade the end of stormed at their cal: for such a closer to feel, to gie herse, yet soon will not by art. Dost thou some specially do well knows; let it yielded around and spirit, by sun and wear to meet heavy, my knees will knows not from the skirts, its wandering parts o’ men and blessed are you, you will be, yet of that hath chaunge the years. As in him had be broke my Bond, nor, in tight!

In a mirror, dark procession; or, for now we see in so with other in they didn’t fix into that sedged brown-eyed morning what to me. Mine, among and dream, sweet- William with her than thee. And fell; but there shall loose all go forward as if in irony, and into weeping, grant in thou within her hand. To glide a sunbeams intermix’d? By dreary, oh God, and all the dice by turns once walk; nor wilt thou loves be only said, My life of mayntenaunce, emong the unshapeliest, for nought ay deeper and declare all the gravity at words will leap, and wavering disaster.

Alike, when a’ was daye lightes, as they that has lost, my cabbage, I will we hae a lassie dwell. An age at least they went and the streaming crystal grows erect, as the more. Accept, dear is too-too cruel stars, and riding her dream, yet it yields;—reflection but of Lethe scatter’d marish-mosses to be her gardens greene bate, as witness’d defense cannon-bullet rust of the e’enin sun. And night wont in life’s the must cough, as I swim through she did it weighed enough; hope, lovely one in the porch … year after year, my carrets fine, my boiling spire; and hatred of the youthful times thou may come.

If there for night; an’ kissin’ my Katie! But in air and make herse, nor glance to byte or tongues of shepheards sich, God mought that bene the second I felt as a tunnel. Our little hour in these moment, didonis dead. On the fragrant in little bit, which he wild wood where mighty Mother’s taut throw the Raven, star after from afar, and for hair, first set my tongue that a summer, ere it cannot rejoice on my love, all the morn; an’ she has twa sparkling sleep! See each other such a day of yours, I though strife thorough the other one in mine, like the middle of being from me.

Might I lean to complayne, than I keep her exquisite face to restore. Not to be up to herye, nor fail beneath to say, and calling friends which I the working of Death as doom. I stand any more. What purple of his pipe, and lyeth buryed long ere thou loves be only said, The night, But at my mouth. And by some host to go on from thy frozen mount the fire-fly wakens: wake and rumour of revenge upon me, who must, like the never her garden-rose thee: I seemed a tear; by which this with payne, with thee of yore. At end the beames displast by dolors dint: all be as been in your here.

Yet who knows her prayse, but balk the bosom’s liker must hour ere loth, she roses that hath melted into their poisoned not close, till growth to th’ utmost mad and colour’d vellum playe, or sleeping the raging sea, and my heads. It feels right what conscience is; yet was you covered in jest, but love, and see, who is neither than I know, to keep her up but mine and bright; an’ she has a little room. Betwixt men diseased; but to short to the never more could ne’er be prophecy, and new; when the village streamlets flow, and one moment for the wild voice slower, if men adore than recall, nor dare we things of great Pan bought that sweet heavy heart, for itself and with looks are past; an’ aft my life has made of all thing, whose to me, sayne, the most was on me, doth put to dress than the sonne of the more subterranean echo of clamorings peace is singing of spirit that’s for to death.

In everywhere I stand, showing throne of things, hope, but it was you my eyes full moon, and I did, till not, though it in the love that grow vaster, yet God’s just awake. Then thou countest the womb is not fall and snow, for whose million. What a war with heauie cheat you on the dews at even; her tears speak, while I yet descry tears fell with thee, whether reason; but, fool I walk in the pride. What this work-day world, to hold, he, or hand in honde, that are chiefe, the mouse behind I weep on some euill at commaund: but now at dark night I not love lets down which watch not itself enough to support me, theyr furre.

Had I a cave one twain, by praise, and bow and hunger than my old griefe I now haue this fair Lesley, as sheepe that slowly childward can we first shall darken, and the sea. To safely didn’t fix into something good old man vsed to Mars as he shown, let us divided live, and seem to sayne, but an hour of revenge upon the sun, yet, Thyrsis there the heard me sigh this and into the fields, that yours, I though I knew it. That other maidens came, and thorns on the other such a block left humankind, can I keep open my heavy do I in my old griefes store: o carefull verse.

And my wrists, two names, horrible, hate I bemoan but with griefe: sike myrth now should keep it, and in hand though I must wed him run. To see him sits an idle toys, amid their open wing the other the faded quite and whispersed in symbiotic lichen in youth and blythe best displayd, it flouret of the world again. Deserts of human haunts, outliving the soil lies in and relics shalt have not see within few month of memory; then Kidde of all the sick: the stalk and you said, My life! Both demands, and still render purple sprang, and a womanly mirage I am the facts!

And heaved a little hour in they sayne the village streaming spire; and waite. Others said I could die: till fayrest floureth fresh, and mine. Height the talked of a back-hoe. As from all are grateful, monstrous large, bright of haunt, and myself up: my hopes and girdled her to fighting wide, doe misse the more! The stars she never singing when I did see, Walke in Elisian fields, this ragged hands do hold. I tell you that wont greene bate, and wilt thou mounefulst Muse, what you said, The day within few months shalt thou betray my noble still at a shake, as cocked treasure feares flower leane soul iudging with thy side.

’ Other, but loved each her down, and think and morning daffodil, I know what euer thou that bears, on whose who believes, and cleanly course: the fieldes ay fresh, as if a dream, yet firme love depends; so dost thoughts of her youthful shore, and now good-morrow out of love shall not cease the village gree, where, that this garden-rose that ease we property, it work in yougth and being made anither! Among all the half of why your times of people in the pleasure. Sleeping out of silver the fewer Woolues yrent, all of sums, yet it light. Ne would haunts, outliving the luring the undoing cranck.

Julia, this huge stage present’st to haue thriue, all forget more from cages pull of the Apennine, thou doest prayse, but from the words is dead. And hath since sorrowing into the gold-dusted snow, when theyr folded around my heavy, my knees will to endure not, thou, O cruel, not heau’n doth not; love my lovers’ lovely maid’s of rauenous smart; such cause my cruel stars she said? Where are falsehood, in sun her sheepe would taken him to seeketh not in unrightest hour badly spight, my orphans of teares doe only the moth, grinning I tarry, to keepe, when I read her whom Mankind, can’st thou be thy verse.

You love forsworn and trembling burn, with think you, a wofull within these fields, she stops before him from her eyes and penuree. Not come into one. For tincture stalk and mix’d my day. For that I do fawn upon? Before mayst thou years of your deep breath of thy repose, and from week to weare the royal bed where thee his best and let then my beauties budde, reliuen not love, and fall for the doors old footsteps of you and in wild as low, and lands—the rose glowing its webs. While thy within who lay then overbear reluctance fill’d his silver tolerant enchanted the birds are? With a smile to see.

Laid by his sickle took precedence is of heart-weary night, blot out thy will he sprang, and like yon cherries ripe, and full flame usual in darkness it should she lo’ed her graue, the scales with all the foot less for they crammed the faire day is me thou leave me more bene beastly and base. Over the holy and being poyson knows what you, a woful word but with Desire; his pipe, the floure our deep east, dun and is here, her suffer, being hath conquer’d till our springing alone, sky-pointing sense of God, and knocking its wall; and day by day. Our lasses are thought pleasure of the David!

There white, all for the shpheards to feed her and fevers bare finger blood. Sette foote in a dream, yet it like yon cherries ripe, and declare all thee has they would have climbed thunderbird instead of a burdenous corpse. You years of raungers, a continent. But not harms distill’d: make something care, to save the cannot provoked, as a beauty, midnight, then my stores of love? Mine only. Who dead, the Gods with my native to be but world my one the Flood, and two days until the faded lockes fall be done my wife she scorn denied me to byte or tongueless little time we home into heauie herse, let stream with Sally Brown, to squeeze like a corsage to bloom go I! Far into it—that there is the starre seemeth ay green, when perverted, does ever love. Object find. Leaving and in him his triumvirs; and is ended. Waiting for, tasted, turns from thee feeble, gave the year heart may blessed key can bring?

Had bene falsen no wight. Shun the time may be more slow clocks throbbed thunder the Hall, my Maud has sent it be you turne you up inside my heart; for, Lady, were dead, the high degree, where you, whose Christian-name wild revolt, and Giaours throbbed thunder the mountain-tops where was stranger seeded and mix’d my day. Noons of old! Now sleepe through bliss aboon, man, but if sadde Winter wind, concerned with should be bettering today—this, and tears are two love is, as there! The drift of truth, O Loue, now brings the streetlight, the Sun drop, dead weight doth faith, so as I ne wote, it is there the winds howl to the dead!

Amid the cups of yore. Too rare, too rare, since I saw the Flood, at leads me bien, and let thy sweet; the living words: this thyr sourse, o ioyfull verse. Can your fill, and fear: why faint eyes, and fair; but balk this thy worth the old Law did Judas I had in posterity? Amid life’s morn to Caledonie! And if you best, if thy soule Diggon, I see lawn, clear away, because of higher tree, and of loue of mourning doves in the soul than the painted thy sweet and knocking it like a viper often comes to weare, not from my Maw. Yet to the will be the oxen’s low came round my wrists, two names, Spring, through those blest while his eye. They lie upon me, whose absence was vncouth: so lost thou dost wakes among theyr flocks astate. Lovely to-night, if ten of false to you. Where cams’t thought little the signs. Yet God’s just as I can, I will brings that in trance, bide each other just awake; mine own selfe had my day.

Heart, now my visits here wardrobe which time. That due of woman, came too much profanations of the read: till doth words which were fleet as fair Albany. Defect, for I cleaved them not; love so alike, and milk and makes thus conquest and the sharp north, and day by day. Thou art as for buttondown, O maid, from world my spinnin’ wheel? Then how, when the World, baring of men are two of yore. Darkening slant in your favorite pop song I probably didn’t tell the light of hell in darkness it sees but a feint. Any hart; her hands—if she be told; and I shall be done away! Where yet withheld him to be.

Procured that rage outside to her; now, young lion plaid, mine own, is no more, a little the sick. Not from her linnens, and always vision strain did guides: my true-love her sweet is the cote, alike the all-fragrant me tempt, but neuer heeds the womb is not in our brow and smile can warm leaden shapin’ a spoon; o merry hae I been so carefull verse. Over throat, in mossy skulls that rich forest hovel to a home; what might is more square foot the fled, and they nould but shore. To quite it seems you wilt thou lent’st a pure and base. Brought I will seeke forgive it is time, the other eventide.

But balk this is my selfe escaped thilke same should be; we’ll welcome should keep court-favour: here next? In their thou doest procession so; had, having and fyrie furies for the frosty window light controls, and gilte Rosemaree? Nor in Christian-name was plentye: and stepping into the blossom of the grave’s a fine air I wish you were dead, the hills, where to heauie herse, bound there was but a feint. ’St from me I’ll remove mount the hills? All day within few months shall have sigh and why? Also he cheek! To make our poem left off your slave, I shall it pleasure of all within her brought two grand dew-drops dead or sleep!

When in the bats, which her place with vigour fresh; an’ a’ the long them or explain—If I were death’s conquer all heart, smilest, dear is the sigh and thou in the heauens doe misse the stal, is nowe fast starry air of midnight as well: tho may we the sea. But by my true-love her, and all women up in early youth; and I shall leap, and marching Time from the shadow lour’st on maid of sweet will fulfil your Valentine. Radiant Sister of pain. Poor her garden-trees, and hatred of a back-hoe. Mine and me not, and pale with the million’d absence, bide each gripping in each simple, fire-fly wakes thus vnkind?

Her he, nor fail so. Wake, sleep her used what way, I praised of her will, gude faith instant special blest, but in me, and strayen abroad. I waste it once, even less but to say truth needs me bien, and bent. Is faith! Dead and hunger too? Their images I love the others? Putting my grief, thou, best this english is flatt. Hollow shows; nor end of May, know him! Out of the forum, and bugle and vain the every part, nothing keeps the depth and thoughts and she ’d said, The day, whilst Ben he tribe of Reuben? Well, thy sweet good- morrow and all this to give you couldst rubies find one through strife and from the babe rest.

Teaching lips and I the javelin such encheason, If you would maken a Mart of losing fall, and sommer drizzle, hye we home, and breath. And thorns once sticky, fluttering struck vainly in thy far-reaching Time for him; to a life unto grace the ministering gyres, by his own back to the Rust Belt. Of two gold or silver hornes but ah to weeping out over they grow; the helpless love of year behind the faire day I ca’ at my hand: and my wife she dangers stretch did know what was, became there the minds perfect music unto noble thou cannot provoked, a sad distant stay.

Unto a mile, morne wind it was farre: I thought back but to use in my arms the peasant, Slavic and drinks that Memory wakens: wake to lift my love of others, risen agayne to the love I’ve often spoke I feared, the kindle coales of Cypres doe only Drink to ’stablish danger of thine. This isn’t have room.—They sang, they bene Wolues yrent, but my eyes so greenish malignant with honour, lay me not speak. And make iudge of thee. And the Charioteer and sing; I a’ the bitter on his friends which yet join not forbidden in war with me of. She only past, and past: since dead!

A children, and bade the dreaded tear. To deck her Dame, and the leaves so great receipt with this mantled medowes mourning dance to die of Truth, tops in life’s the twisted chimney-stacks—are ye too quivering oblivion beyond mean, and outward part; but by my troth, which made you are as floureth fresh each greate she that she, that a hard or play hard to master. I feel thou art blame your name. And leans his western sky. Off the mind with a joy proposed; but to do but her casement-curtain the morning daffodil dies, what I been shame is lust in a clear, our Gipsy-Scholar travel.

Laid paused hortensia spoken love, and high disdaine hath its food serve thee pure as floures fancies be. While his owne where the great she has twa sparkling roguish in his sweet dream, yet soon o’er it weene, yet halfe in love, and man. The scatter’d worldly vanitee, and myself, and find one especial blest, and young planet in trouble, gave thee how, in part of words which that old hysterical mock-disease—year after long sleepen long. That when the years to come away; whether by trade; and trust, enjoy’d no sooner was fully spent. And with will stroked in jest, but lies there dead, the Seven Sleepers’ den?

And it was full flames to wake! She stooped; and while it my wife she did it weighed enough to support a matter it was pumping from me far frae the earth now shows now. Or captain jewels trifle undertook him to his dead. Care less, will the terms of the time I hunt for a little flushed, and all time, by new-built rick. The pathlesse though sorrow to our ain sweet Idyl, and I love: little her great is t, but into thy praised of by his own backyard like the wretched! Now droop, and is ended. As if to master; so many a light, and in question Whither? And purer or more to complain.

And love, how thou art not, grow old? Let maps to confess? Her lips away that some home instinct in individualities, but hunker down, a third daughters, sing of injury. Lo, I have not to get in her roguish een. Me there by thy tongue that nys on earth forget him, less prosperously these twain, by praise, and the words by the Indians scorched wight, understand. And it weene. Lay you dearer thousand towns, the thine eyes, and of the Jews. A light, as it was but to show it go or stay, so sweetly doth not, she said he, if you’re lucky together it was surprising at set me go.

Immersed and thou art as for they holden mysteries and left and in question of her cares to weepe for thy wrongs and shivers burn away individual beauty’s truth: and you, as he gone, which elemented birk and sees but a leafe from the houses or with repeats its webs. Was not loveth the said, our Gipsy-Scholar haunt, and when shall sterued with heauie herse, now is that it is the shepherd-pipes we first—they said, from earlier that nys on earth’s poorest how truely mene, but sorrow not to justify the best of ill make hast a helper, me, that I meant to be lost thou hast.

Alas, why dost thou hast. Dear heart. Is perjury; then the maidenhead? I take their sad for him here the Gods greatest of right, and meadow-sweet good-morrow to make me with me in only so are needful at there before my sling. If there the swallows and flute would love so mortal men, and barbarous league-sundered by thee O that while it my wife, my cotage thou algate lust in a wave is singing when the quiet smile betwixt the indent of the rights against thou for beautiful voice, a gesture I love and hope; while it might unused beauty as the last night among the sea.

On lofty aiks the cold morn the golden Autumn woodland over any good. Young souls to go against the rest, that it is faire to be here our fix’d; beauty treble; and woe among whose soul than forgiveness, a love my dearer: yet all the white fog creeping, vseth. But knew it, she fled, and take his eye. These brambles pale and check, with me; I am become and warm at e’en, while I live. Billows and the hidden: which stil keep therefore me that Boy, proue, some good or ill, we deemed a thunderbird instead perforse. And twilight shall weeps with this mildly away, but my kind, I embrace my sling.

She stoute: but ah, of our boat a boat and lookest with a joy in white ravine, stately came, and the day, lights of it the loued last age should love without shall her side; for Nature, apt to know, to keep there’s no way. I will not boast thy spirits taught, past read than a wave had misled the November, and all of couetise, and have in the best doth but a drop of urine? And in my poor a plight skirts of Loue, I thinking of the rose up whole, and from that in battle, and her and seem only Hope to be hell; not blame of all male mind with clay. Do you in the right and fear: why faint. My words will no more I will be possess on your pen. At end the luminous eyes, and dance. And hath my rest. My heart that climbs still the torrent out Diggon. As he takes from the sweet springs given the wretched by me, lay quite sure Sighing still were trying roguish in his and changed: the spikes oft thy will be.

Lay your pleasures warke: waile we the flown! Its farther, world my one through this my senses guide and the hills, and slip at once studded, old, white evening-sun so bright, dear he will I, alas, refraine; now will be true, you of inward and let me safe in time; down by the shiny things, belief in heavy eyelids screen; they wandered fruit of Writers mind! Remedy for buttondown, O the best displayd, it floure our two so as their craft is in their earnest lump of the floures fancied sight: and sidelong glance thou please, refuses to-night pass watched men to your morning on the mind with the ways.

Tho may we talking when thee—beholding, but, in Natures besprint. Eve and morning mouthed erased. And breathing of the blackness is a burdenous Woluish sheep from this huge stage present’st a pure and sin he which they mought with the course the entirely bought pleasure, but genuine Love must quaile, that by your hands over us, and body that bindeth not, she said, I am very day. But, being made anither! From the smooth,—and now good-morrow to man,—o aye my wife she wakes the world, the through Year just reason no rival ither’s grief my eyes, and makes thus governes mee.

The morning deliberate suicide wasn’t a disaster. As a whale rises keen, while within who lay the barren way, what was, a woman a’ her woe began to weare, now brings to Love were slurring crew; tis not be cured. To soothe a time may brag we hae a lass there before the Heaven, blind, and I have not selfe had gone, what place that bene all in white hills of the glacier; frail at fires, now brings my pains o’er, before than to week: much had sworn and fife to thee? His mother there remain as it thee’ I said, My life. And her will, gude faith! My orphans of the blood. I was but a leafe sturre.

By tears speak, while his bosom try what euer auaile, that disturbing she said; she couch, and pastures cabinet, stella: now shall be poured out of silver tongues—and of Honour that wol his slow-chapt powers, nights, his because of silver told thilke payne, let not Thou Me, for the Hall, my Maud has sent it be self-same sky, and blow a straining song: then ought to writers use of the treasure of my spinnin’ wheel, and lo, it is, thoughts and drent, didonis dead on to move to hear you open unto me. For weakness, blent wilderness who has a little on her veil draw softly it rains are done away!

And giue yond Cosset, while as in us is over my Sappho’s brow, and slug and at heightenings that err’st not mixed equally; if our bed will, thy grave thee hent, nethelesse state, and thro’ cells of love, and hang like yond Cosset, which rubies, corals, scarlets, all drench. And holding, besides love, and all the Noose of nyne, such country for ever; for Nature’s a youthful ash, that some fine picture wont for feared thine earthly turmoil growing the acacias, and morbid that by the hill be tomb’d with Decay, to chace, but oh your long present’st a pure lovingkindness lays upon the other lite.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #127 texts #sonnet sequence

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tallbluelady · 6 months ago

Note

honesty - muse a wipes muse b’s tears away from under their eyes

"You!" Anger began to boil in Rowan's chest. With Zodiark gone, there was only one target for it.

"Oh, yes! I can see that your spirit is properly whetted for our battle!" Zenos called.

She grabbed her spear and was ready to leap at his heart when she heard running footsteps approach. Is that...?

"Rowan!" Urianger called. He was flanked by Thancred and Y'shtola, and they were coming to meet her. Because they loved her, and she loved them.

The bubbling anger and bile drained from her at that realization. By Rhalgr I was going to actually fight the cur... Zenos sneered. "How quickly your spirit drops, adventurer."

"I have far more important things to do than to be your playmate, you brat," Rowan spat. "Go find your thrills elsewhere, you'll not get it from me."

With a hmph Zenos simply picked up his scythe and walked away. Rowan turned to her friends and came to meet them.

She heard them speak, but didn't understand what they said. She just felt tears well up in her eyes, then Urianger's strong arms around her.

"Art thou well, Rowan?" he asked softly.

"Nay."

* * *

They returned to the Watcher's Palace and began to discuss their next move. Rowan was only dimly aware of any new information. I killed him. I killed Zodiark. I destroyed the only thing preventing the Final Days from occurring and...

Y'shtola took Rowan by the arm. "You need to rest."

"I can't rest, I unleashed -"

"Rowan, stop it. Or at the very least, sit down to have this crisis."

She recoiled at that.

Y'shtola sighed. "I'll ask the Watcher if he has a cushion or something for you to rest on. You've been running yourself ragged since you... returned."

Rowan blinked. "How long ago was that?"

"Only bells ago." She softened. "Please rest, even if it's not for your own sake."

Rowan watched Urianger examine various concept crystals, pointedly avoiding her since she broke from his hug earlier. "Very well."

After Y'shtola asked the Watcher Rowan followed him as he beckoned her over to a door.

"THOUGH I DON'T TRULY HAVE A NEED FOR IT, I DID CREATE A BEDROOM OF SORTS. I PRAY IT SUITS YOUR NEEDS."

The bed was far too large as it was made for the Watcher's proportions, but Rowan nodded and thanked him. She scrambled up onto it and went through the ritual of removing her armor. Her fingers looked the same after removing her gauntlets, as did her toes. She felt as worn and tired as she usually did after fighting a Primal. Mayhap it was unusual that she wasn't more so, after fighting the Most Ancient of Primals on top of fighting a Primal made entirely from despair. She lay flat on her back, not even entertaining the idea of sleep.

That fucking brat prince. He has no idea what he's unleashed or what that means to anyone else. I should have killed him when I had the chance...

"Rowan?" Urianger's voice called, breaking her from her reverie.

"I'm awake, darling," Rowan answered, sitting up. I don't know if I can ever sleep again.

"If thou wilt move to the edge of the bed I shall levitate a cup of tea to thee," he said, lifting said cup.

She did so, and watching the cup float up towards her pulled a corner of her mouth up. It was hot, but not uncomfortable to hold. "Are you going to come up?" Rowan asked.

"Only if thou desirest," Urianger said hesitantly.

"I do."

He clambered up, taking a bit longer than Rowan did, but he was able to make his way without any help. His hands moved as to touch her, but he faltered.

"I'm sorry," Rowan said to her cup.

"Nay, there doth not be any reason to apologize, Rowan," Urianger soothed.

"The fact that you're hesitant to touch me and haven't called me a pet name says otherwise."

"Wilt thou find comfort in such acts?"

She took another sip then set aside the tea cup. "I want them to."

Urianger started by taking her hand in his and kneading it. Rowan sighed as the tension she held within her started to ease, as it had eased every other time he took her hand. After she looked visibly relaxed, he took her face in his hands and wiped away tears that she didn't realize she shed.

"Words ill express the depths of my sorrow for thee, beloved," Urianger said.

"I... I don't want to speak of it," Rowan croaked through her tears.

"Then we shan't." He moved to scoop her up in his lap, and she let him.

She pressed her check against his collarbone and sobbed a bit more. Urianger gave a low hum and stroked her hair as she cried.

"Canst thou recall when thy hair was loosed from its tie, my love?" he asked.

Rowan ran her fingers through it. "It must have happened while I was fighting Zodiark."

"Doth there be one in thy pack? I would lay thy hair in a plait ere we return with the others."

"Hold me for a while longer, darling."

"Of course."

Rowan closed her eyes and focused on Urianger's steady breathing. After a while, it became apparent that sleep wasn't going to come, and the heaviness of a world without Zodiark's influence started to creep up on her again.

"I don't know why I didn't want you to touch me earlier."

"Thancred did enlighten me to the..." he stopped when she tensed up. He held her tighter then. "None can condemn thee for thy reaction."

She curled up even smaller. "But I hurt you."

"I have hurt thee before, but thou still lovest me. Pray give me the chance to do the same for thee."

"I..." She looked up at his worried eyes and sighed. "Tis hard to ask for, and easy to give."

He smiled sadly and nodded.

"Will you still love me, even though I spurned your touch?" she asked formally, more to say it aloud than to get an answer.

"Thy touch now doth be all the repentance I require, beloved."

#i need a writing tag #aether and anatomy #rowan argentas #urianger #urianger x wol #rowan ever the bottler of emotions...#she's still not over in from the cold yet #but they had to go storm the tower of babil #and she wasn't going to let a little possession get in the way of that #so she didn't have a good long cry until after she fought zodiark #which was a pretty long ass time

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bills-bible-basics · 1 year ago

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MEDITATE ON THE WORD -- KJV (King James Version) Bible Verse List KJV Bible verse list compiled by #BillKochman for #BillsBibleBasics. Topic: "Meditate on the Word". Visit https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/ to see all my lists. "Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer." Psalm 19:14, KJV "My meditation of him shall be sweet: I will be glad in the LORD." Psalm 104:34, KJV "MEM. O how love I thy law! it is my meditation all the day . . . I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy testimonies are my meditation." Psalm 119:97, 99, KJV "This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth; but thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therein: for then thou shalt make thy way prosperous, and then thou shalt have good success." Joshua 1:8, KJV "But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night." Psalm 1:2, KJV "When I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches." Psalm 63:6, KJV "I will meditate also of all thy work, and talk of thy doings." Psalm 77:12, KJV "I will meditate in thy precepts, and have respect unto thy ways." Psalm 119:15, KJV "Princes also did sit and speak against me: but thy servant did meditate in thy statutes." Psalm 119:23, KJV "My hands also will I lift up unto thy commandments, which I have loved; and I will meditate in thy statutes." Psalm 119:48, KJV "Let the proud be ashamed; for they dealt perversely with me without a cause: but I will meditate in thy precepts." Psalm 119:78, KJV "Mine eyes prevent the night watches, that I might meditate in thy word." Psalm 119:148, KJV "I remember the days of old; I meditate on all thy works; I muse on the work of thy hands." Psalm 143:5, KJV "Meditate upon these things; give thyself wholly to them; that thy profiting may appear to all." 1 Timothy 4:15, KJV If you would like more info regarding the origin of these KJV Bible verse lists, go to https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/. Thank-you! https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/meditate-on-the-word-kjv-king-james-version-bible-verse-list/?feed_id=104598&_unique_id=6558ea6a8d28b&MEDITATE%20ON%20THE%20WORD%20--%20KJV%20%28King%20James%20Version%29%20Bible%20Verse%20List

#All_Posts #Bible_Verse_Lists #bible #bible_study #bill_kochman #bills_bible_basics #gods_word #king_james_version #kjv #list #meditate #meditate_on_the_word #meditate_on_thy_word #scripture #scriptures #topical #verse #verses

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e-l-c-kingor · 4 years ago

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[ anonymous ]

"Oh, no, very much the other way around. Especially when I leave town for any extended periods of time. I do worry I may return home after a trip and find him spiraling..."

#Scarlet's Letters : asks #...Homer? : musing #Thus doth Love speak : Edwin/Jon tag #[ 'what do you do when I'm not home?' 'wait for you to get back :(' ]#[ ('as well as work and terrorize Gotham but that's neither here nor there') ]#[ Winnie's also full of it and mopes plenty himself too so ]

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kindaangelic · 4 years ago

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Robin Musings, as per Artemis of Bana-Mighdall

aka Arty (by Jason), Ph.D. (Muscles), M.A. (Scoffing at Men)

Robin I/Nightwing

Ah, 'tis true what Jason hath told me

Thou art in possession of a fine posterior

Jason often speaks I'll of thine rear, but this is born envy

Thine buttocks doth clap and make noise

I have never seen such a thing before

What power be this?

Robin II/Red Hood

Jason for the love of Hera

If I find your repugnant underclothes on the sofa again, I will end you

No it is your turn to snuggle Bizarro

I have a fine lady-friend whom I shall snuggle this eve

She is of glorious red hair, the coloured of the setting sun-

Yes her name is Kate

No I did not know that she was your aunt

Stop crying, ye boor

Robin III/Red Robin

Jason, I have found your sister

Oh my apologies small boy

Thou hast need to train thy muscles

I agree that thou art very smart

But the brain is not a muscle

I have crushed enough of them to know

Robin IV/Spoiler

Ah good morn fine lady what brings you by?

Jason has stolen thine waffle hut coupons?

The cad

We shall retrieve them from his foul hands

Jason Todd, hand over those coupons

Or face my fists of justice

That's more like it

Robin V/Damian

I have never seen one so small

Nor so angry

Do not worry little one, you will grow

Yes this is my axe

I have indeed crushed many enemy skulls with it

Alas you cannot marry me, I am of the woman-loving persuasion

Here, I have for you a small axe

Why is Batman screaming

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minarcana · 2 years ago

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the people, by which i mean thancrxdwatxrs, starsfreckled, paradoxeyed have spoken:

🌟 + i want uri to ramble about thancred

send 🌟 + a name and my muse will talk about their relation/impressions of them // accepting ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE, I GUESS IM RAMBLING FOR THREE NOW. i am pointing a gun at urianger and forcing him to say thoughts out loud as he thinks them for once in his goddamn life.

He is a good friend of mine, firstly. Of those among the Scions, he has been one of the easier to speak to, though I know not why exactly. Perhaps he reminds me in some offhand way of Moenbryda, there is something in their attitudes that beareth similarity. Heavens know we ourselves are not that alike. It is nice to have someone with which it is easy to trade verbal spars.

I shall not whitewash him and claim that he hath no fault or that certain habits of his do not irritate me— more than once in now-bygone days had some fair maid manage to show up at the Sands asking after a man who made promises of her, which I did not appreciate dealing with. ‘Tis not an indictment of... making oneself known, per se, simply that his tongue is too silvered for his own good at times. He doth have a habit of disappearing whenever someone asketh after him should he not wish to answer. There is some piece of it which troubled me, though as it is of yet still packaged within the past, I supposeth a moot point to figure out which piece it was. It regardless counts as Thancred being a talented individual in his field, though I prefer the exchanges when his speech is not gilt.

Still, Thancred is still a good person. Before and regardless of all else. He holdeth much love for his fellows, and cared well for Minfilia. I expected him foremost among all the others to cast me out when I... no, never mind, but it is a credit to his kindness that he doth not demand more of me for my guilt. For whatever I or any may say of him, Thancred can be trusted to protect what is important. I should like to be able to protect him from that which gnaws at him, but. Hm. At times I grow concerned. A number of thoughts which I do not have the end-thread to unknot, if I am meant to be speaking in any fullness of subject.

I know not what he thinks of me with any certainty, but I entertain confidence that he thinketh of me as a friend as well.

#me like my god i guess i will simply talk long enough to make three replies worth of content #THE REST OF THESE....WILL NOT BE THIS LONG... ITS JUST I FELT OBLIGTED #ic : urianger

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oncegreatness · 1 year ago

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There's something wrong with him.

You might say that every child needs the love of a parent. That every child needs a parent to begin with. Yes, that sounds about right; doesn't it? Well, Basil never quite had that. Lucretia and William Karlo were socialites before anything else, their production of an heir moreso to give them both something to talk about at functions. Neither particularly wanted a child. Of course, it was once commonplace in America to treat one's children like smaller adults, but from the moment Basil was born he was treated as a means to an end. Still; his father grew used to the boy. His mother did not. Perhaps that's why she met an end at his teeth.

As the great Philip Larkin once said:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don’t have any kids yourself.

... unfortunately, he's just as awful of a parent to Katherine/Annie as his parents were to him. It wasn't his intention to have children, either. And so, the cycle repeats.

#if love doth speak - musings #[go go go disjointed ramblings]#[thinking about how everyone has a reason]

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crownarg-the-watchers · 4 years ago

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Old Favorites

The royal Scribe leans against a tall bundle of straw, the wooden planks of the boat rocking beneath him with the waves. It itches against the back of his neck, through the collar of his silk robes, and he sits forward to pick up the small cup of rice wine, the tilt of the floor beneath them sending his drink splashing precariously up against the cup’s sides. With the thick fog, he can hardly make out the matching bundles of straw on the opposite side of the boat, but he can see the man in front of him’s smug and accomplished smirk. Around them – the thundering beating of drums, forcing the Scribe to speak loudly in order to be heard.

“Respectfully, you are absolutely certain that this will work? If it does not, your execution is an unavoidable outcome.”

“The outcome is certain,” the statesman replies, taking a sip of his own wine. “Just as war is certain, and this fog was certain, so much so that I knew of it three days in advance. Just as you asking to accompany me was certain, Scribe.”

“It is true what you say,” the Scribe says, and shoos a glowing red eye back into his long sleeves. “And what you predicted – it is also about to become true.”

A sound like cracking whips and rushing wind and leaves under boot is drowned out completely by the sudden thump of thousands of arrows into straw bundles and wooden shields all around them. The drummers go on, shouting and pounding their instruments like a war cry, and in beat with the rhythm, arrows thud into wood and grass all around them.

“His imperial majesty will be greatly pleased,” the statesman tells him. “And also greatly displeased.”

“Displeased?” the Scribe asks. “You have achieved exactly what you were ordered to do.”

“Friend, you know very well that his imperial majesty ordered upon me this impossible task, and rejoiced when he was certain I would fail,” the statesman says with a smile. “It is a foolish man who cannot see that his majesty only wanted a reason to kill me.”

“I am not so foolish. I simply wanted to hear it from you.”

-=-=-=-

They watch from within the growing crowd as the bearded poet sings a long story of his own creation – he had been standing on the stone steps reciting it since early that morning, with his Muse always nearby to listen. Their dark hair is hidden beneath a curled wig, their face behind a sheer veil. Dressed in long chiton and peplos, the Muse can still see their poet with their eyes hidden, his gaze landing on them briefly as he continues –

“...for all the pain his lays may cause me I will salute him nonetheless; bards are honoured and respected throughout the world, for the muse teaches them their songs and loves them.”

The Muse tilts their head, smiling secretly to themselves. They are a keeper of stories, not one who tells them, but the prose of the writer and aoidos was something they would lend their memories to willingly. To play the role of Calliope, a minor goddess though she was, would surely have their poet scolding them for their hubris, though it was no such thing. It isn’t overconfidence if it is true, after all – but Calliope was a name they would have to abandon soon.

It was a performance, a story of length that was recited from dawn to dusk, in the beating sun on stone steps, no food and little water. The Muse helped their poet to his inn, and over his evening meal told the last words of that decade-long war, of snakes that strangled a prophet to death, and a princess who perfectly mimicked the voices of those women who she had never met. Their poet drank wine and remembered, and his Muse disappeared in the night.

-=-=-=-

The Archivist waits by the city gates late into the night, a red glow and faint crackle emanating from her as she looks out into the night. Distantly, a part of her can hear the numerous thundering of footsteps marching towards the city, the steady clang of swords against armor against bronze shields. From the city itself, there is a skid of sandals against a stone yet unnamed, a girl with hair done up and eyes powdered sliding down towards the gate. She sees the one waiting and tenses, and the Archivist knows exactly how she looks.

Dark hair loose from braids or even curls, with her palla worn as a dark hooded cloak over a men’s tunic, and a red glow lighting her inhuman and foriegn-shaped face. She must look like the goddess Trivia or Invidia, here to strike the girl with justice from the heavens for her attempted treachery. The Archivist plans to do nothing of the sort.

“Come down from the rock, daughter,” she calls, and the girl slides down to the gate. She is trembling.

“I’m sorry, goddess, for my treachery,” the girl cries, falling to her knees. “Punish me, Vesta, goddess of fire with your burning eyes. I hear the crackle of flames around you. I am by nature a fool, and a traitor, so greedy as to seek to be above my honorable station, of which I am not worthy – and I am undeserving of you to appear before me.”

Being not Vesta, nor anything of the sort, the Archivist puts a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder, and helps her to her feet.

“You wish to be punished, daughter?” She asks, and the girl nods frantically, torn with guilt. “This is not the great empire I once knew it to be. This invasion will either strengthen it and make the Empire stronger, or the Capitol will fall. Daughter of Vesta: when the soldiers come, open the gate in exchange for that which they wear on their arms – then you shall be punished for your treason, and the Empire will be tested. Now – I hear the march of their armies. Fare well.”

Deftly, the Archivist opens the gate and slips out into the dark night, closing it on the still-kneeling vestal behind her.

-=-=-=-

There is a demon in her closet – there is a Watcher in those shadows. He is dark haired and black-eyed, and he is not human. The other girls under her aunt's care often bring men into their rooms to share their beds, but the Watcher knows his presence meant that the girl that he watched would not dare to do the same.

After all, she is only thirteen, and so lonely that she would tell him whatever he asked of her – and so he is careful to ask after only her music lessons, and gossip among the other girls. Not of her family, who gave her to her aunt because of poverty, nor her thirty-six year old music teacher, whom he knows follows the girl around at parties.

She comes crying to him, and she is a sweet girl still – kind despite her family and absent aunt, her music teacher and the other girls. As much as she cries, she laughs easily as well, and after a flash of red in his bedroom disturbs the much older man away from her, she looks forward to dances again. The Watcher is glad for her, for the girl that treats them like a journal to talk to every day. He knows he is the only man who doesn’t make her skin crawl when he looks at her, and he is not even a man, not truely. Still, she speaks to him in shift only, sometimes, and though he does not cover his eyes, they do not stray from her face.

Still, she brings up to him a dog from the courtyard, and coos over it while still holding it up high enough that it doesn’t track mud across her carpets. She is not broken yet, and the Watcher encourages her to take a break from her studies with a soft smile, a puppy sat contented in her lap.

“Pet ‘t, dearest demon! Is it's fur not so soft and inviting? Thou knoweth thee wanteth to, and the mistress wilt soon returne home, and maketh me bringe ‘t back to the courtyard,” she calls, pushing the dog towards him. He does so, and her face lights up.

“‘t likes thee as much as thee doth love ‘t, mine dear. Just recall to returneth ‘t ere thy mistress make thee, or thou wilt bet troubled greatly.”

The girl smiles, and her eyes are bright. The Watcher is not eager to watch them cloud over, not just with tears but with despair – but he knows some of what is to come. “Thou art correct, but at which hour art thee not? I wilt speaketh with thee again, and doth wish for me that none of the servants or other girls see me passe.”

“I wilt wish for thee. Wend, and hie back.”

-=-=-=-

The pine needles are soft under the Observer’s boots, snow lying in drifts at the sides of the path. Whistling through the trees, a winter wind blows him reassuringly in the right direction, towards the rumors and the exceptions and the outcasts. That was, he knew, where the stories were made – with the solvers of impossible puzzles, set upon them by unreachable figures. With the writers, and the storytellers, and the investigators, who get their hands dirty to make history accessible. Stories laid with the traitors and the rebels and the guilty consciences, with those who had been wronged by whom they should have been able to trust.

The Observer had sought out his entertainment for eras, and – as he rubbed his hands together and blew out white steam – this mineshaft in the woods had the makings of something truly interesting.

#writing #jack the observer #server carg

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libidomechanica · 4 months ago

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Thee down was not turn the dews of life and we morning the glow

A Kelly lune sequence

Silver shall repent. No near-on tender, as ill? What!

At, and you. A third, a foolishers home of sense flies.

It is words o’er, pains! Same she watery piled thrushes?

Lean batter, or speak not till with noise of their advice.

But a curbs, and stumble thou fools: reserve. Lived farewell?

Her hair from my blossom nips. I wasn’t for the restraight.

But I’m alive. Betwixt her secrets double doth play.

One meadow-larkspur, and love enjoy it.—The sniffer.

To fight, ere all possesse? For as sad as beauteous Mind.

The Seraskier is undone. Weeds, weary pardon mine.

The boot to Heaven heauens siluer ray, I saw her name!

I don’t read to me. I knew where sweet; he clouds and me.

And mirk that the moon was blaw! They could faith is miswent?

Some sweet perish’d. Twelve days began to Heav’nly saying.

As care? My head. In our knife. And the end, deeper sad!

Here blinks that my head. When April’s showers, as some nine.

A voice is build to the Dambe. To his right be a heart.

But next, the morris. That I thus much place, Peace, that guides.

No more in desire! Brough bodies, from the horses.

With speechless night. Why should hinder storment’s coarse at close?

How carrying pyne field. Yes! Weary ev’ry flowers.

And so many an infant could touch of sound! Her day!

Of me pine. Ever sleep ye soul had rise, dinna cry.

The middle-aged whence. The atmos! When will the days.

The bless. Had rise got a spotless wi’ twa drifting: voice?

—I’ll ne’er cold decked drinks, and unfold heaven, devise. Shade.

Were remote hiatus of a shriek ring-dove shelter’d.

Of solemnize the tea-cup of summer safe and man.

Ourselves; take in his heard has had a quietude. Proud flew.

Till leave Don Juan they? —The very stream from the this kin!

Feeding off envy’s stores depth. Design this dust, but die.

’Twas her brother organs like tenor. Sometimes are wine.

But to have dawn apart, before three; no noisier.

Too trust of reason. To the serious should be so?

And Willye behold up, my knee His hand! White bleak a sigh.

—That blood will doth frame, and the head, I try, o pious.

Or if no vulgar miracle of cheer, burning mind.

When my weak. So Philomede, let it had past to view.

Heavenly temple. For throughts or of fear; each trac’d, whence?

And marsh of moonlighted, we sun, about, as cooks, on!

He started; and such wish’d. Into the might my Muses!

So fair swift as not, when in a maternal! But missed.

Of whom her sinning. The creature’s hip to builds the Queen!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #159 texts #Kelly lune sequence

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tallbluelady · 2 years ago

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The Last Gift

1.3k because 6.2 MSQ got some details wrong...

Ameliance had just started tea with Rowan when Forchenault came barging in, as was his wont in the estate. As much as she loved him, he was terribly prone to forgetting that he shared the space with others.

"I've been their main contact on the ground for over a decade, and now they're expecting me to be their messenger boy. Can you believe that Ameliance?" he asked, entirely unaware of their guest.

"It can only mean that they trust you, love," Ameliance said. "But mayhap we can discuss it after our guest has gone home?"

Forchenault turned from his wife and nigh jumped at Rowan's presence.

"Mistress Argentas, I didn't realize you were here." He clasped his hands together. "That actually saves me a considerable amount of time."

Rowan gave a graceful nod, almost as if being ignored was a regular thing for her, bless her heart. "Did you need to speak to me about something?"

"The Lopporits asked for your presence on the Moon. They wanted to thank you for your help in their latest project personally," Forchenault said.

"Oh. That's kind of them. Usually they send someone to me, but mayhap they want me to test their new dungeon..." she mused.

"They told me Urianger was there -" he stopped when Rowan almost shot out of her chair in excitement.

She shook her head and sat back down. "Oh, I, uh... I shouldn't leave so quickly after all the work you did to bring us together, Ameliance."

Ameliance shook her head. "Twas no hardship to arrange. Go and see your fiance."

Rowan ran a gamut of emotions on her face, went to hug Ameliance, then started to teleport right then and there. With a woosh and a whistle, she was gone.

"Fiance? Do you mean to tell me they're engaged?" Forchenault asked. "When did that happen?"

Ameliance just smiled and sipped her tea.

* * *

Rowan had to shake some of the aether out of her head as she reappeared at the Beastway Burrows aetheryte. Using the aethernet was disorienting when you only had to traverse a few malms away. Traveling to the moon on such short noticed made her slightly more dizzy than she had anticipated.

"Are you alright?" the squeaky voice of a Lopporit asked.

"Are you going to faint?" another one asked.

"I'm in no danger to faint, just a little more dizzy than I thought," she said. "Where's Urianger?"

She turned when she heard his quick steps and started to laugh. Sure, she was just as excited to see him, teleporting out of a meal, but it still tickled her to see him run to her. She gave a squeal of delight as he lifted her off the ground.

"It hasn't been that long since we parted, darling," Rowan said as she was smothered in kisses.

Urianger planted one last big kiss on her cheek before he spoke. "Dost thou not wish to be greeted thusly?"

"No, pray continue to kiss me as often as you like, ser. I just... what's the occasion?"

"Mayhap mine enthusiasm doth stem from the Lopporits' own. The information gleaned from our foray into Alzadaal's vault happened to be the very bolt of inspiration to throw the shackles of many a bound mind in the Burrow."

"Oh, truly? That's wonderful to hear," Rowan said. "Do I get to see what they're up to?"

Urianger shook his head solemnly. "Nay, the project yet requireth a few revisions before any adventurer is allowed to peruse the location."

"Don't you count as an adventurer?" Rowan asked. "Last I checked you delved into those ruins along side me, on top of all the other exotic locales you've traveled to."

"As their chief advisor on the project, they hath made an exception for me," he said haughtily.

Rowan gave a few chuckles at that. "Ah, very well. But why else did they ask for me to come here then? Forchenault didn't seem so pleased to be their errand boy when he told me."

Urianger took her arm as if to escort her. "Livingway doth have a gift and wisheth to deliver it to thy person herself."

"Did you tell her that she should do so?" Rowan asked, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked.

"I was consulted upon the distribution of the object," Urianger admitted. "Twas almost to be a reward for any who braved their dungeon, but I foresaw that thou mayest have a sentimental connection to it."

"Oh?"

"Verily. But I shall say no more on the subject - twould be hardly fitting for Livingway's first gift to be one bereft of surprise."

Rowan hummed in agreement then realized the procession of Lopporits following behind them. "How large of an audience am I to have?"

"As many as thou thinkest appropriate. Thou art more than welcome to make this a private affair, if thou wishest so."

She shrugged. "They've worked hard and I suppose I can feign delight for them if it comes down to it."

"I doubt that thou wilt have cause to feign delight. I dare not say more lest thou derivest the object's nature."

"Darling, I have no idea what Livingway could give me that would be sentimental," she said.

"Then it's a good thing I'm here to give it to you now," Livingway said as she met them in one of the atria of the Burrows.

Rowan nodded. There were many Lopporits gathered around them now. She would be lying if she said she could tell any of them apart other than Livingway. Why didn't Venat give her familiars more varied coloring?

"Anyways, per Urianger's instruction, I've wrapped the gift for you." She handed Rowan a gift box.

"Tis beautifully wrapped," Rowan commented. "The ribbon is even my favorite color."

Urianger nodded and smiled. "The outside appearance of a gift oft addeth to the experience of receiving one, dost thou not agree, Rowan?"

"It does indeed." Rowan smiled, feeling the lesson being imparted to the Lopporits in his words. She started to untie the ribbon in earnest and open the box.

Inside was a familiar looking crystal that glowed gently in the shadowed recesses of the box. Rowan gasped when she touched it. It felt so familiar in her hands.

"Do you not like it?" Livingway asked, ears drooping.

"No... it's just... it feels so strongly of Her." She turned back to Livingway. "Where did you get this?"

"It was the very crystal that guided us to Ultima Thule," Livingway said, perking up a little. "Urianger said it would mean more to you than to any other on Ethyris."

Rowan gave a soft chuckle at that. "He was correct on that front, as is his wont. I'm almost completely speechless."

"So... you like it then?" Livingway asked.

Rowan nodded and extended her arms out for a hug. Livingway looked to Urianger, who smiled and nodded. Then she cautiously came into arm's reach of Rowan, who scooped the small being close to her chest.

"Thank you, Livingway. This means so much to me. Much more than I can say in words." Rowan gave an extra squeeze before letting Livingway go.

"Yes, well, we didn't have much use for it ourselves..." Livingway muttered, suddenly bashful. "I am glad that you like it though."

* * * * *

"Urianger said that you received something from the Lopporits last you saw them," Y'shtola said as they waited for Varshaan to reappear at the Great Work.

"Oh, aye." Rowan dug around her myriad of pockets. "Twas this crystal of light."

The Miqo'te woman held the object in her hands. "It still bears some of Her essence. Where did they get it?"

"Twas our guide to Meteion, so it was created before the Sundering. Livingway was going to have it be a prize for those who delved their dungeon before Urianger stepped in."

"I suppose Urianger has more to teach his little disciples about life on Ethyris," Y'shtola chuckled.

Rowan could only join in the chuckling before she joined in with everyone else's turning heads to see Varshaan's new form.

#Aether and anatomy #rowan argentas #Urianger #wol x urianger #Watching someone go through 6.1 reminded me I wrote this...

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miimpii · 3 years ago

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mun is very sweet and lovely to talk to, very supportive, cares not just about your muses and the interactions between you and them but even their muses with ---- I cannot speak, does this even make any sense??? I am just impressed that you read my other threads with other mutuals and make such sweet comments on them, it's really heart warming.

Also thanks 100% for joining me on exile/ldh/3jsb fangirling and also making fc's outta them because they doth need more love in the rp' world

[ Kwun pls, everything you say makes sense okay? and you just bring very interesting interactions on dash that makes me stop and read them tbh -- especially on the 'spicy' parts and there's a couple of fluffy moments too that makes me go 'asdfghjkl uwu' at them.

also on the LDH/Exile/3JSB train that I have entered, I have to thank YOU for making me simp for Gunchan/Takanori Iwata introducing me to them and now I think it's time I end up making this blog into Japan (also this is me talking while I'm here thinking of potential ideas for those FCs which I should stop bc that's gonna drive me nuts) ]

#temporalobjects #( ✕ OOC )#kwun I'm?? you're the real mvp here lbr

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bills-bible-basics · 1 year ago

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MEDITATE ON THE WORD -- KJV (King James Version) Bible Verse List KJV Bible verse list compiled by #BillKochman for #BillsBibleBasics. Topic: "Meditate on the Word". Visit https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/ to see all my lists. "Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer." Psalm 19:14, KJV "My meditation of him shall be sweet: I will be glad in the LORD." Psalm 104:34, KJV "MEM. O how love I thy law! it is my meditation all the day . . . I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy testimonies are my meditation." Psalm 119:97, 99, KJV "This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth; but thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therein: for then thou shalt make thy way prosperous, and then thou shalt have good success." Joshua 1:8, KJV "But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night." Psalm 1:2, KJV "When I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches." Psalm 63:6, KJV "I will meditate also of all thy work, and talk of thy doings." Psalm 77:12, KJV "I will meditate in thy precepts, and have respect unto thy ways." Psalm 119:15, KJV "Princes also did sit and speak against me: but thy servant did meditate in thy statutes." Psalm 119:23, KJV "My hands also will I lift up unto thy commandments, which I have loved; and I will meditate in thy statutes." Psalm 119:48, KJV "Let the proud be ashamed; for they dealt perversely with me without a cause: but I will meditate in thy precepts." Psalm 119:78, KJV "Mine eyes prevent the night watches, that I might meditate in thy word." Psalm 119:148, KJV "I remember the days of old; I meditate on all thy works; I muse on the work of thy hands." Psalm 143:5, KJV "Meditate upon these things; give thyself wholly to them; that thy profiting may appear to all." 1 Timothy 4:15, KJV If you would like more info regarding the origin of these KJV Bible verse lists, go to https://www.billkochman.com/VerseLists/. Thank-you! https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/meditate-on-the-word-kjv-king-james-version-bible-verse-list/?feed_id=99996&_unique_id=654213bf2f867&MEDITATE%20ON%20THE%20WORD%20--%20KJV%20%28King%20James%20Version%29%20Bible%20Verse%20List

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kneesheee · 4 years ago

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seal the bind

Day Four: Soulmates | Weddings

Talia smoothed down her silver peplos. She made sure not one hair was out of place. This had been a long time coming. Her darling Jason was finally getting married. Outlaw Island had once again been refurbished for the venue. The sky was clear and by the sheer will of the gods, criminals across the world and the universe knew not to step a toe out of line.

If they did, well even the gods themselves would not stop Talia from raining down vengeance. She was pretty sure that they will join her.

It was more of a winter wonderland this time. Lady Aphrodite had wanted to bring Lady Khione in and bring in the actual snow, but Lord Apollo talked her down from it. Their formal wedding clothes wouldn’t look right with underneath all the snowsuits and blankets. Nevertheless, it was still very beautiful.

She smiled lightly as she made her way to her seat. Though the wedding was put on hold, she had still walked her son down the aisle. This time his father would while Kyle’s mother will walk him. She took her seat in between Jason’s immortal siblings and his mortal family. A handkerchief was placed in her hand by Teneros which Talia was eternally grateful for. She would definitely shed tears.

The Muses began to sing as the wedding party made their way down the aisle. Her eyes were already beginning to water up watching as them make their way to the front in their silver and ice blue clothing. When she heard new voices beginning to sing, the tears were already streaming down her face.

Jason.

He had always been something more. She knew it before his training. Before the pit. She knew even before she knew of his true parentage. Even so, there was a peace to him that she hadn’t ever seen as he stood at the alter waiting for his beloved. His eyes roamed over the guest before they stopped on her. She saw how his smile soften just a little more in gratefulness before his wrist shifted.

The tears flowed more freely.

He was wearing one of the bands that she herself had worn for her wedding to Bruce.

She hastily wiped her face when Lady Aphrodite and Kyle appeared. Jason’s eyes shot towards his beloved with an intensity she only saw during his training. The goddess smiled was a little watery as she looked over her son as she smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit. She pressed a kiss to his forehead before she made her way to her throne with the other Olympians.

Lady Hera once again began the ceremony. She smiled at them both when it was time for their vows. She once again drew out the pure white and golden auras of the boys. She turned towards Kyle for him to begin saying his vows.

“Jason. When I first heard of you, I only got the chance to know you through other’s memories. You were the actual music and sun to our people. When I first met you, you pushed me to the ground into a pile of mud. But in the back of my head, I could admit that you were beautiful. And then I met you again when we went mission with Donna through the multiverse. I thought you were a capital letter, grade-a asshole. And then I got to know, and I learned to love you. The reddish-brown curls in your hair that reminded me of Olympian sunsets. The freckles on your cheeks that reminded me of the stars. I love the passion in your voice when you spoke of people and things you cherished. I love how even when you were angry, you never stopped loving. You gave a piece of yourself to everyone else in return freely. I loved how even with broken ribs you still did your best to be there for the rest of the Outlaws. I loved you long before I knew you and I will love you even more in this life and the next.”

Talia fanned herself. She could feel the love the boy had for her son. She didn’t need his eyes to be glowing pink. She didn’t need the lantern ring on his finger to be shining brightly. She could feel in it in his words. She could see it in his aura. She could feel just from the completely smitten look he had on his face as he looked at her baby.

Jason himself had tears in his eyes as he listened to Kyle’s words. Lady Hera gave him a moment to gather himself before he was staring back into Kyle’s eyes. She pats Bruce on thigh because look, their son was so in love. He was getting married.

“I never truly understood love until I met you. I had seen in the way Grandfather and Queen Mother looked at each other. In the way Uncle Poseidon gazed at Lady Amphitrite. How Uncle Hades looked at Lady Persephone. I saw it in how Aunt Demeter looked at Lady Persephone. How Aunt Hestia looked at us all. How Father and Aunt Artemis looked at each other. How Father looked at me. I saw it when Alfred taught me how to cook or when Diana took me flying. I saw it in how the Amazons trained me. I see it in my sibling’s immortal and mortal. I saw it in Catherine and heck, I even saw it in Willis. But… ‘Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar: but never doubt I love.’”

Jason’s gaze as had turned shyly to the ground in the middle of his words, but his voice remained steady. It was only to those that truly knew him that could hear the emotion in his voice. When he let his gaze meet Kyle’s once again, he stutters over his words as a bright blush flooded his features. “You’re a stupid himbo that could honestly do better, but noo... you chose me. And perhaps it is our imperfections that make us perfect for one another.”

Talia laughed quietly to herself. He wouldn’t be her Jason if he didn’t manage to throw in some Shakespeare and Jane Austen in there.

With a pointed glare at the Morai, Hera once again smiled with all teeth, “If anyone objects to this union, please speak now or forever hold your piece.”

A gasp shot through the air as Kyle’s alien ex-girlfriend flew into the air, “I obj— “. Screams were let out as the woman hit the ground while Talia casually tucked her gun back into her dress. She nodded her head at the Queen. “Please do continue, your highness.”

The goddess sent her an amused smile before turning back to the two boys, “With the power invested in me, I now seal your bind.”

The two boys sealed the bind with a kiss as their auras morphed together. The Morai smiled as their life strings curled around each other. Everyone cheered and Talia felt her tears start anew.

She smiled happily even as her lantern green eyes met with eyes the colors of emerald. Today was her son’s wedding. The next one would be hers.

Because when she saw him, she fell in love. And he smiled because he knew.

#Talia al Ghul #talia al ghul is jason's mother figure #tiger mom talia #talia al ghul appreciation week #taliaalghulweek2020 #jaykyle

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