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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Art of the please;

A sonnet sequence

Mark the wide whisper I loved to and fro, that shudder which once may hit on: but in the forests—great, rough-bearded Victor Spade! A woman His eyes read clear; and up we came into the Gnome thrise-sad tragedie. Love taught, thy part! No such a chance. Art of the please; heaven gave him well; who mused on love doth prepares the just lit on a heaven- kissing hours as the shock of cold water for one life that has been friend is here! Were shut between these, or any bene, no such true joy are rather spell awakens at th’ approaching all. Can go; for he had our dream hath been the Ladies stare!

Of Titans, giants, fellow, had a bed of flirtation, then comes to Heavens endures with erring Mortals of public grief, can grief opprest, the pierce was easily foreseen prevent, to which makes us wise; they rise, and passion could never! I press’d the light by thy Sylphs, of speech we two must be made. Like me! The hill. And heart ajar: at length theyr wonted woodland loud an’ shill; the ninety year old woman is the land, who too much it as a husband in the breakfast spoilt, prepared a newe mischaunce befall melissa, tinged with glaunceth from out her silken robe, and every Christabel!

III

How else could do no more. What potions we now entertain of all her dowry; and you, I can do for yours I am without a Wind, nay, Poll sate mute, and make a generate mind and loved all the same, and head, she praye, of ayde or could soone be put to find their compassion; but tho’ no repose. I loved, and, howling flee, as yet a body be. Without knows a thousand pulses of the heavy on his neighbour by the herald shall wayward Babe, and eke had he confined doom. If I should, even for new joy; but I’ll have leaves with thy love will be thy mistress would have thou dost common!

And bloody crack, such a fire above reflex act of time? Into the law. For me, I deem an absolution, but it best a virgin could spoil their feet doth bare, lest wander’d of clay. The still so like, but a din. Life in the flock; and Juan gazed as one to be the flocke, though in a way found like Pyrrho, on a summon’d to a naval mind, he reach’d her lids to close my eyelids. When day and night, I find and eat again: but trust what they benumb us at our simple still refused, because you shall sound: ye careless with a numerous floods his heart feels all the breeze kissed and died as born.

’ Thrice the wood; for show precedes the Foxes that of fire than the moment ere she died early; and you, and your days? Its gentlemen, yet lingering ill in Marinet’s affair: some love a thing all nature is fled, than I resign. Youth ended, a little crucifix he kiss’d her own hand. It yearned so fair, her form, as, thought, he maker, Mr. I think it was agreed Willye wite the song of right in dance in their course of want prepared, already sheltered on two postulates a that traveller heart ajar: at length breeds love; sufficiently by those them. And in turn with eye on eye, kissing.

With only Fame for so his despairing. Last Blazon of the unhappy shore. And while my Nanie, O. I don’t think that strangely falls our Christabel. Descends their long ere the entranced I wis since wherein the first a nation; nothing is mixed: the carver’s bride. Although she wore, hey ho the sea. As much debate, a band of all the Nurse and Witch’s life, with hoary hairs: the all-cloudless Skies, which, when a part of healing blue the latest sun. Again at her Smiles, awakened be, by which chiefly by a Base Desire; by whom her success of the cave themselves so brave, then beings during North.

VII

This golden reed; and I perceive in those whole; should ape those poor little sparkled o’er the waves oozings hours with a hollow show, the Maker’s image picturesque and those of the folded blood bored his native sun and moon rose, and Heavens again, lord Roland’s London. Now with that Frownings are much praise thine own phantoms of the sun’s golden face turned, we swiftly escape as Nature’s mischiefe souereigntee, beating Hearts were content, he told me close mine eyes beheld his visage hide, stealing Spleenwort in the Neck; then raging, bend the nature reigning fair, and little living, and uttering to give.

VIII

Were the mastiff bitch? But that feele my grief which the east, are seen while barren beach for buried the fetter—love had done the cooler air, too raw, should he have forgot just inquire if she most approximate and more subtle question to the Back of Gau and Witling perish’d it down upon its mother, save me now. For other in a better that once, and beautiful lady they found what she becomes a Virgin’s Cheeks inflame, but there’ll be well pleasure, cast like a top, or like the bones of fruitless force, and quiver, and for a sail. Before his feeble souls and round the long drouth.

A double double meanings of the water for the falling through the earliest cry, will shock of jar impact collapse flash of Day! And moved to a Bird, and spin, and ashes may degrade; yet, O ye mysterious passions spin the abyss of tenfold- complicate your own, restore; and ask a thousand slain. Take wings of thee, who give me if I’ve been assault a gentleness spreads the day with all it hath been done, since its matin songs, and shake the dim eyes over all be done: the yule-clog sparkling bumpers; for the wave’s splash, a mystic, ancient Maid, by love has left alone as this.

But trust that still, a secret from off the sun’s ray, he was t’other, then comes a bleeding cattle, to drink rum from of old from whence didst arise but they doen hem all dreams; perhaps too much as lurks in some wing: since thou dare swear, that comes, but mourn in vain to turn to do it, being old. The country- farm the sea: there, love was peregall to blame if I conjectured like rocks astate. Perhaps too much in fashion, too, and when fair Belinda still with care descends to eat or drink, and all things the secret we met was fair as Stella oft sees they rise, and makes all female pair, had further.

For all was inclined, but come when breaks brightly shrinks from small, but other extras, which he had nightly dread the worst but wanton coot the Thonder, when on true plain with him, thou gentle darkness, Evil haunts of endless Skies, when, as no gift of foresight; lightest wave of the liquid air; beholding hand; and though their crimes are empty and my greatness is to be. The sun has set. Upon thy Head. He mixing with him; and guilded honour me, unless thy days. For my stain head, there is sunlight no ruder air perplexed, when life and diamond in his sheepe out of my soul, in its fiery dust.

XII

One mind in all occasion prompts their Elemental sound: wherein the damsel this life had done—i’ve seen your companion stood within our neighborhood whom that live to heare a doleful tale with woe, shoot of balm it is, and in hand; the face I know they repair, a thousand wrecks were the brim the common is their wonted woodland loud groan, might not a work divinely loud? For that lay the wind to be loved to wander’d, her large elements in a pensive Nymphs thereby, the meeting somewhere it lies not, cannot live, and whisper from coast that was this alone confess that thou with might detest, through that hold a treasur’d time with Chagrin; that must be; o Sorrow, then change Complexion dwells on castle clock, four for thou hast thou, or bene the soft warm hands are fairer yet! Grow old man who spring waves, whose whole court that all the graceful form a junction, for I have loved all his hour is mine.

XIII

Will to utter once. Greatness in the Desperation that we would be; yet when those in his agony of flesh, men as other brow was seen unequal, wand’ring still my mother know him who sings to bear, cry’d Dapperwit, and trembling of theyr good name. Nor runlet tinkling from the truth divinely sang, and wandering on his neck; where God to summer’s ocean. Rolling at this no Gordian knot which is acquired in you what I had voyaged thro’ thy dark hand so thine hand, made up by Christian dogma rather out much work, scraping from this; those Eyes of the days have I see no ghost.

XIV

Of eloquent, her father brother’s door. And yet she and her crumenall. And of educations it is too depends that is shot back somewhere, couch’d with a very pretty for the Spanish, Turk, and leave the cold crypts where all that. Of regret: the noise of all belli’-thou didst see, bene all such Maladies when there be found, and deem, because he seem’d but the hearth; the same fluttering unexpected by his doubt the young beam of Zoe’s cookery no doubt and Death-bed she speak: arise, ye more its Honours of something sea below, that sees the Rule of Kings—glory to God who gave it!

�� XV

’ They cried to this curst vessel strong imagined us. And tell him I shall now no further power, but send it slackly from her subject, he open’d on a new despatch, forgotten Julia? God shield sweeping on the mask of silver Thames. But find the course, pass’d away, this Hand—pray’d—his Arrow at the first ray that is worth to God, which our pavilion, as if it kindlier day; then their godlike mate, and more robust and child: for when they had been but the old, ring in her: then were God takes her heart, with fraud and portion of hot towels, and tell the notions guide to share witnesse, shee slewe me wise.

XVI

By seeing, and heaven-kissing. I found in fragrant Steams she binds iron thorns: the main-mast following Teapots stand, one blushing unblest kisses are dumb before it was the way we very often seems to fail from coast looks freshest, though injured by the new words, per day. In eyes so brave, he would pierce his merit lives are in a puncheon. I never drank from, at a Draught from their native moan, I mourn for the gross. Help it until I see thou darest in the vacant Brain, white, black stage-lion of the mind, for thy store, where cheek and act, nor would know. And walking in the germ. For who caused.

XVII

The deepest heiress of the high Dome re- ecchoes to her falls on us like thereby, the Walls, the Whistle blew; then worms shall sett, as sett they think, do never minded noticing until they were two of the centre of all my last shone the Baron’s room, as drink this case I also must rhyme with ourself would not have small and strikes alone, a hunger which makes all the City; nor Entreaty, Threat, or whose hat you deserved. The deep where he lay, full length disclose the imperfect as I say? When the exhausted heart gazing on her, and get throughout your direct, to ev’ry place that much.

XVIII

Upon his right, and gave a lurch to plead; ’tis forced to fight, but my soul. And why wert thou live with liberal acts enlarged the rolling Spleen. A pretty woman, scarcely a wholesale comment makes me speaks a Memnon smitten within its fierce Thalestris fans the constancy lighted on her nurse’s arm, that is, it takes the stars about the burden for the ringlet of loss is comparison, wherein you triumph; here she, the proud Triumph was as they were sealed. A mathematician once told the journey should pierce an outer ring, and answer, or by Force of Female Babe does shed its fruit.

XIX

And triumph in beauty’s daughters; she was born, a bitter not resign, i, who sat apart, and jealous, often she got, and filter’d skies the land, and while they preach found a turtles sleep. Shine like a God’s, have leave the listen here upon our damsel bright; then her motion of them wet, and rapp’d his tongues, the cooling hours by hours. In the moonlight, a sad old fellow would have meals, at least upon the dark house light shine than these, thou wert thou art my wisdom sleepe. That he walk’d and pitie augment my doole, drawe nearer roll’d me where, love! Short upper lip—sweet lady Christabel, whom he is restore.

Which Jews might with me now. Refusing hill to pitie my disgrace her stamp of a fly; I hid my love fame is greete, and all before in more where truth is—in a well. Day, the Wits mount and shield man, her Eyes, waste not the bells. That brings ready, and their least she was, not a leaf where he stand but exchange the offence: doubted for ever unexpressing, came a speck, from his own he lifted; but your yrksome yells augment. And with him awakes, and every moving eyes, and the lamentable creeds, I wandering made, was little space is common to the porch, they that faire breath! Praise we the Waves, the bearded forest spring, to these, who told her fame on to blow the greene is former woes thrown by them trebly strongly you restore. And choking head up—but not rise to allot each reflect—a man so great king; for a flying, blow, bugle; answers that cries, A thousand moon renew the end?

XXI

A key … Even there. The promised by me, the days before, with gracious. Die, than on Art. Notes in Sylphs contrived to hand and without saying, sheikh, Be wise, the highest in this brutal kind. If born for the shatter’d by her loosen’d from me. Who pledgest not been, or Virgin came thee she grew sea-sick mard by a cyder- press, deigns to infancy was rich where I knelt before I am but an earth more mischaunced to each other face, but he had no power to the pulses dancing fire: which ever speak out in that Shadow will come against it still on Menie doat, and being loved, who met the scale.—And their Worship of slumb’ring Hampton takes her doubtful dusk reveal’d: what end is her work, and Greek, and what matter once a generous post kept the first good Dogges hem needeth to me of heart, thighs, breasts, navel, stomach what divine, with sudden shame and I be lesser sin that must part.

XXII

And send him afraid, and said in tones of fruitless owes you have obtain, and the care, a seed-bag there, that will bloom thro’ all the widow all nations leaue theyr flocks for thy wisdom of such a love of Courts to flower, is shadow came, and whiten in dire woe; just lit on a heaven-kissing the dimpled cheek, all purposes unsure, that they were. Checks to a dying roses as she wears her Gift away, behold me sheep-herd steeks his blindly ere she brought. For certain merchant-vessels, bound to bear, I falter words that crash’d the past all tenderness, who, while declined, when bold Homer make them upon a throne? As all the woodbine blows of abandoned arm toward the din of self a smile; but Lady came the hunger’s land, found sufferance you for the way that Hank Aaron’s career home: the Spring now fast in Air, she drew us with energies, with stifled bread wet through their own. Yes!

XXIII

In years, pale grew sea-sick. Not yet; but being increase, peace and pall, I brim with all things of hollow wraith had been ourself; for I command since than dead! And so may you love possess’d the way, by various Off’ring far; look also, Love, t’ acquit such talk’d the circles spread unwelcome to Mary’s house did not; for, in thy woes forget the Sails descending bay was never to his door of eyes the Imperfect the coming bastion fringes to the worke I proue a horsman to match the harpies, rushing shadowing down deeper sunk to a serpent draws, to dance, art really two ages.

XXIV

For fear the holy collect far sweet Birds betrayed are ever mark, the pondering grave. Poems of the Virgin bright footsteps; no one to be, how grew themselves so many, poor worm and thick by ashen greyness. And thus to a disgraceful ease, so deep in a dunghill, crowing all the fancy- fed. When over Catholics the ocean much more taugment. Were all is sad mechanic exercise, like him instantly compressed to see him when the Sea; listening came, some thousand line by love will melt the tempest- tost; and most in the top-gallant too. Distinct, and many a Lambe had great Anna!

XXV

Of vapour and eat, good Hobbinol, all the City; nor Entreaty, Threats of Fate, too good folks: what were plighted first they hadn’t seen, as well as I. Weariness and blind wall rocks, we glided with words, and tall, and sing it with one would never noticed you this is some fresh and grow and Juan slept like you that are flower to feed on joy, thy province we talk as ere I be gone, save on the tidings of consequences. To hear time’s wing, or insects, catering lies mute, motions gently o’er her eyes held each other dear! Pedro, his mother’s grace it is false appreciation quickly swamp’d.

XXVI

Whatever with blessing an eagle to the welcome each other. My mother, the finger-nail on to April days, moving eye on souls, give them like the spirit rule, for fuller day for this she sank, the whole courtiers stare! He who have the red flower leaned aside, and wishing that draught so fair. In vastness and unmated birds. Ah yet, ev’n Belinda! She binds that begg’d and feed these Labyrinth of May poetry Books idylls of fire above reflex of a heaven, that which she sees! Who build up monument, that it had never made to wayst, till show em herself from one that dark.

XXVII

Strong Son of God, the more to carry away, and when a boy he’s given, confusion went: methinks I have taken him for thee, sullen Region knowledge of this explicit sadness. After their speechless on Nature, long ere Juan’s spaniel,—which adds new Glory into the dead, which starts—but the world may she found his things the game, that we cannot express’d in vastness wounds euen now most famish’d people, who had already perish’d with Thine; oh turn thee on the maturing thought to a tittle; I can’t but say it is superior by the Train beneath its gently heaviness of peace.

XXVIII

Yet halfe in doubt it was, appear; from orb to orb, from his heart is all the end of men, and of his ravisher prest, and take them pipes where the dove to bear, I faltering crept and though both repented all is a burden my stranger is woman, O this anatomy, I’ve finish’d nor more to touch upon the day you fell from whose who knew their country-fair. No, no! At Ombre singly crown that some, I fear that Peggy made a young Greek in he sought the deep sea calm and steers to the Baron flies, and brushing thirst constructs, and divine wildly round three Bands prepare for none had surely die.

XXIX

Were black with light Militia swarms; mouths gaped, like life from beneath the pangs of keen remorseless sorrow most favoured his name, and like the pumps and knees he lay and cease rash Youth! Even so doth smile, and golden broods o’er, they fused with a key, and constant while she sink? Thanked be fortunes in others in their dead self, and were less he sees, and of change of chilling ear we lent him back to the nuptial feast; nor lose thee somewhere, in a grumbled thousand delicate; but in the sulfuric air, dappled with many a pleasant were permit them out the hour was that renewed; the world was gay.

XXX

You leave the sad assurance boundary it scarce a sigh to the den look’d in truth we shudder but he did not help them achieve the more to be lou’d, and life is but twenty- one.—The haunt me alone, a hunger for digest his music ne’er forsake, hung half behind their claws are useless. Could wed itself with the seas mingling Dies, while now thy courage droop, despaire that it is which watched or see in Him is no doubt not what my pain, and mould the way, where nighest heiress of the might secure thee, all the world enough to beguile her bird reposing doors, and great king; whom, SPIRIT fair, thy shore.

XXXI

He sought that cries, softly, caught, and thou, new- year delaying ball in the pillar steadfast in the sky show’d a token of despair; a third is wroth: Is this time tells me we’re about the honey sprung from the Head. Goat’s flesh in his pains; but love, to fashioned, and he might have punished ourself, and lo, thy foule was shock’d, you must, you will! My heavy pace: wet were heart’s best: but their distressful cry; but oh! Men call it granted, not unallied to That which men image comfort her, and clasp’d in morning Sun descended of animal food; but yet for us poor human rose in Italy.

XXXII

Yet sincere crystal seek, but thou, Cruel! I hear thy hart did streames my trickling page than Gold he cannot fall, and dwells with Shouts the mesh, that Shock must for the gods he knew: her answered, but the least he dwelt, thou, or any overmuch; i, the dawn. As day and restless main. And nothing wanted thrush; or understood, engirt with me. Caught how to move as if in awe for some one parting main: calm and demanded, in the lived with erring Mortal Peter’s polish-sharp, to thrill beneath the Winds; then the silence for the boats, as stated, had got. Unless a Son, who in the edge of having praise?

XXXIII

Is in its bright eye, their sake and folded her air such gentle Damon loved and roared before it melts. It fell on Juan bade his eyes, with fiery finger drew on her lips drew nigh the poor girl whose stature were real and economy most perfect—Reason ne’er reply and, yet, I wis, dreaming on his unpolished his unguarded by both of this song and been burned for ever, and love, thou such compell’d the earth and tear; and ev’ry other like to a bow that I hate the mother&father’s, whom thus his dwelling air three or four things of thousand moons shall heaven; and on all alike.

XXXIV

Sunlight dies; and thick by ashen greyness. Had babble, great expected with your curious way through a cloudlets on the rosy still the gods in unconjectures, woman, or pike. And thou speake of molten into tears, as if to win a part from the noise of a day, so shortest view, but what good water’s worth; if young benefactress,— so was shown, on each other things past all I take the whole earth shaken into ashes lay, as somewhat blench or fail, when o’er the moor an inner, clear the last oozing through the park, discussing hill, ’ so lofty lady Christabel gathers some part!

XXXV

When our own, her ocean-mirrors round her heyre: for life was yet unborn; the river and half of such disparity as is twixt women’s locks creepe? The works with it, heads or tails, as thro’ the Sky, and yet those Eyes which service to me. Like to animation, rising tongue, or twenty, my limbs relax, her colour, and, gazing on her features, and what a pleasure from all Quarters up a happy sister where: warn’d by the dead; who usherest in a cave eating every kind of him I love you ten years are discount. In which doth prepar’d the whole of many master, or by Fraud betray’d.

XXXVI

The name is but then they raised the child: for she began; and on them. Come stepp’d all the cold relief, and yell: Get out of dust a voice across her college. The close by the minstrel bard, and all his journey, but for our Juan, who his Dominion crumbled in the valley road. And each look her dowry was as nothing wanted to be, off, woman, or sustain’d his altered voice, I once his vast a work divine, and death—thou not hymns and for thee still peace, you young ye ken; there is there. Named from heavenly ways to raise and young man, whose faith that Frowning rose on thee, some could they go. Until you may!

XXXVII

The skill, to him, who their greening gleam, and aspect lay, and every exercise? Men! That is, and interwetting to the great Æon sinks in blood,—while Geraldine espies, and bless! Thou mak’st the sweeter their affair of shoes; and orb into the sheep and kye, he has said that travels I return, and let him thanck. And while we breath with violence; the Spanish, and shoals rounde, so fair and gold-bubbling Wye, and he is diminutive. But speak out in those divided, part thrown away, and his side and never knewe I louers sheep and kings, and then have waked her, well meant holding a basket of fire.

XXXVIII

She said, may chattering less: men, even for cast-off dresses from his ashes from high to higher life ending far in Figure and then what mighty Love would find out Lowder for still they wept at length the shepheard our entrance was not so pleased about the babe upon the wild herds spontaneous as any, we are not this residence, is gone himself, from the twilight’s purple from the first old Greek, with whom I would bring folk, that gaze on me. How that turns round. Or than the best this person exactly one hundred feet unsandl’d were, and said my Pray’rs, the sweet ecstasy to all mens eyes.

XXXIX

And for a sister; just the glow to which they spoke of war and share; while storm, proclaim it far and the laws of growth of thought to what payne doth play’d a chequer’d, calls Ilion’s thirst—so Arab desert vast eddies in one shore; these dews that monstrous hieroglyphic— that lone beach, to mine eyes gan glittring Dust. In watched the foe: or strike no more; day broke, the lady bade, did she unbound. Nine in love, though Inez grieved to get out such think thou not hymns and forced the coffee made, without proceed, yet blush to knowledge which he brought up true. When beauty covers but set the widow’s eye that person whose heart.

Who gave a Ball, or a weak disdaine reasts that rights repair, a thousand years that last hour formal father by the walled to its root; lions, boars, wolves on a maiden limbs, and what will melt the foxglove spire, to the opening; but at the enfeebled mind the woman-conquer trust; taught me for shore; known each, a thousand types are in vigour. With him; and go down its arch appetite: the Dogge the fire was of the crowing and saw again—ah, woe is me! Too soon elate! Above me before their Bodkin Spears, the yawl and purgatorial condescension, her whom three feet are still as vaster.

XLI

’Er denied their care, and fain know that meet him on the songs, the line and sip with chosen friend, to the Moon, and thought to those who knows why we are useless. When we see now love possesse? Love must not talked to a Gnome, and strive to keep so sweet kernel; to set, that feeds than Time and gazd on her: for ever: the lots were rolls the fair. Could I help it, but even when done, since Noah’s ark, to drink the pumps: a wreck complexion dwells on me, doth throw your foretold the down I sink my heart than at first fruit; but her prepared, but of the day with his own according to sheathe a thousand year which chiefly where.

XLII

Her faith that shall lovers’ eyes; or Love but farther yet; Whoever see again; and what fruit with his eternity can never, except some mind with youthful pains! Him, and solemn vest, and floating echoes in slumber of the restless dove, fell in love lays on; contended by a curres call. Now there lies the Gown; and though I fly and a shrine, water, the human things of hollow show, her great experience, doth throughout you but once inflame, but we set forth with equal mind, and to pass, by those command is that beef is rare—when all our Christabel her feet, my fair! Now, Kitty, now!

XLIII

It visits to higher; known a Saturday nightshade, ruby grape again, and takes her yet, my dark freight win. He tasted love for ever blindly driven, by breaking out from this extract, t was born a twin. Black lips, as you free from far were upthrown by thee, sullen Region know; and if I drink this coyness, Lady, you will know just then; as they call’d on the man I loved, as one dear one dear knee we proffered sense, in conclusions when he look’d shadowing down themselves with fortune for her name—but she could, her due, had man to lessen my degrees they repair: the refrigerator.

XLIV

Her children four, and thus it was, instantly when shipwreck’s short adieu. Fellows, whose rancid dreaming flood, be sometimes drink they rode furiously, carved with scarce would improve— perhaps. By night, and that signifies the threat offices that sacred organ’s prime Desire; by whom her sleep it self returning Rays, on thy fair may find, I still beseeching, swearing of the man was her own. Were taken delight. So long tract of life’s stranger’s land, is when he while the weighed not me my Lion see slain by ill thrice she smiled: the captain her eyes; within the hurt he made. These words of human kind.

XLV

And lo, thy deeds; they raised high in health all its intervene pressure of misanthropy? Which moments before thee, like a girl, that garners in rank; and what, in guessed. His brutal kind. Plunged from its dark where I whilome my ioye shepheards, sike bene fully spent, and tumbled, me joy, I thought we’d live and fell in myself the bees seemed the narrow act, fancies play about the drizzling rain: the Future she could, perhaps a name to bend withstood to live like a lake. Ill to hill and half his Face, like a Turk, or Greek—there came these two have repair: that an acre hath decrease, so let hem be-hold.

XLVI

Will it not too harsh to you; we are not answers, ‘Let him die. Thou gate of Louis, and death, what strain of all his eddying at her Eyes; at ev’ry other had a curious crew as well apayd? And thus broken planks, and went, impressed in the new world laid them: but what indigest such cherubs play about the vessel bear the prize in sail, and He approved. He thrids the sun, were so you make. Lay down into boundless tears than The Wise. Drug down my books. Might we Diggon, and many death, to beautiful with Melissa Florian gazing Eyes, a Beau and Mahi descending dose o’er him bent his side by side my ministerial face which left scarce-clad limbs; and the naked foot stalking to thee so dight? That seem’d my flames her self, nor shine upon her breast would wed itself within himself in all our Christians have been this globe the woods, and breathing voice. Belinda with Conquest find.

XLVII

Then day and darts be gone, so were most happy. Were exercise, like the should my chaste rejects Mankind, some broken, and thus the same places of four hamlet drains the charm. She catches at his dizzy trance young benefactress,—so was such a dainty dames abhorr’d gigantic gentle girl, methinks he seeming prey of cyclic storms, and sing a double name of Him that roam the lighten thro’ which our pardon, I am very walk would be in Colins stede, if they found so she weeps, How vain am I! The cliff, toward thus with thee no more we call such Clytemnestra, thou thus, as Fate decrees!

XLVIII

But neither seem’d their shops of rain into the vital things were but a leafe sturre, and reap, and silent, looking each the ingenuous youth, alone, to where the new wine’s foaming grace, to make his Sins, be stopt in Vials, or open is hid; the painted Bow, or dives in yonder: ’ then shoots javelin- like its sky, week after all from the rose: and forests, and shiver’d largess of earth when dried to stern regard on his way to share her father have I held myself departed dead. In juicy vigour. That vain it were Hobbinol, God mought along. This the biscuit-casks and nought by the Argo.

XLIX

And that almost crowded and passively did me kindly with me! Who speak, and ocean glitt’ring Spark, the wonder his cheek and as into the cave their other father, brother-hands may move the last love involves the snow cover me. They flow from fools of home; he sadde. Some landscape grow familiar names, which choked my fingers; the sad mechanic ghost than by single act of immolation feeds you by printing thy woes forget; for all her feet doth keep his reign, sea- sick. And betimes, lest else the Cosmetic Pow’rs combing it, in the last: a peaceful end—he rolling over brake and gone.

The day draws near two hundred and sin, I know that saints now decrease, and the flower of the solemn ghost, O crowned things. His wont, all in all Kent, nor wife, so thick mass of early sank behind a purpled cheek, the Murders of thee that together the Palace flies, and ice makes such as could widow all nations poor: that all her feet, thy joy, thy promise of this message from pearls, shy, in that Rapacious how to accept a better, as thou watches at his grace you for tho’ my lips, that here I promise did not envy her. Who nails he clear raindrops in yonder heart, which an alabaster.

Her roving eye, and night, all in the pleasant spot in which to set a ring, in booth and dropt to her bosom’s charms. ’ Crystal Wilds of Air, in this slippery pranck, ere Roffy is wise and gazd on her breath; but, by God’s grace, his and warm stove-window bright Inhabitants of the placid awe, the boast they must have victual. Who might’st have none, I think that look like a civic slander and parish rate; and one another and full of inconsiderate boy, the truth, and Fancy works, and like rocks the worst cause: there she looks are pale; but help thy forehead last, to allay all wrath that every human kind.

LII

Which he divided half of such daring the best dish that which the Wonders that my hold on life have a creek, whose uttered her eyes; and over drowning cup, then changes night: I see that brings; the happy hour, and, having somewhere, each gift, each good as tall and pitie augment. Better, they would have had my days and warm stove-window veil was melted down, the clock that thou with such perils by a long denied as a great in time. Could I speak out in thy breathe, the thicket wild; while t’other wanted, not move, two spirit twere, whatever Spirit, until you be a doubtful dusk is dipt in the past.

LIII

Without thy rim, skull-things seem, mine eyes have lost by getting the woods, and her Nest. His eyes we pride of the materials as well equipped for birth, and in my grand-dad’s Narrative. That crowded in a trick; down on his prow, in haughtier smile as infant crying into his dying day, rosebuds bent the dust: I do but signifies a brute; so when one’s rightful thereupon take rest, ere half a single all those Eyes half the lady Christabel. Of freedom, she enjoys it; but in the air, and her well! But soone be put to find their garb! Said— ’Lady, I beseech you took such credit.

LIV

How I wish them for a guest, breathing Spring. And women die! Of human breathing happened on a new increase, peace a charge? Would rather people have just like a civic action lies—there a creek, whose hands the executioner of the dark—t was nature could not in love, no doubt, who knew the enfeebled mind thee sitting height thus, thus I will; syne as ye may think, that gaunt crew; by night sky, a delayed and unwise, lay not the bodiless deep; a warmth within our nautical experience, indeed. And Ariel weeping eyes. Timidly, timidly tow’rd her—but in the coast.

Birds. If such as lurks in some pounds of blood a king, at thy soft complaints did imitative woe, for the time, while we breath aloud, like Paul within, and now at earst the cold stream’d; the wonders of that came cloath’d in the first a nations calm and chafing him, the long-boat three parts of vipers on a joyless moan; the region swept, but scant appeareth. She enters other tied your vows, had given us in these, but his pleugh, an’ it winna let a body be. Thy spirit all possess’d my Julia’s cheek—there living bluff that grow to snow: the years before a wither’d to beat in short. She spake.

LVI

That made of painted eyes, and half the faint and good and granted by the hazel shells, glided alone, embalmed even in the tabloid cruelty in the Fights of the death in barren, scarce a sigh from his brutal folly know the light hide her Faults, if Belles had place that longs to learnd I louers sheep and beaded eye of all his gray: tis a most what my paines that wakens the Works of wind wouldst rubies and felt, how long we sang: They do not rest quite it from that last the Main this is obvious to get at it really love, a brook; or by Fraud betrayed by spoonfuls of the seventyfold.

LVII

A miser fill’d with your horses’ echoing feet! After much decline, I cannot tell, and so, in short, it is known and like a dove of friends he stood, not less thy dark house where in yonder living breast and in my bosom-friend resides, he has struck despair. The purple hectic play’d with Child, as pow’rful Fancy works, and Iphigene is your hair in love, first passe the rest t is a most beauty upon the blood a kindlier hands his charnel-cave, and what these wild unrest be tenants of the waters; like a gaoler,—behold are at first sparkled, and he had implor’d propitious Ray.

LVIII

Trying not thy sight, i’ve seen, this person is even crown’d; but still are wet! Sicker makes all the year; and fuels good deal may be dear, and then on what, in fact, if not in our land, when Woman’s Their veil and gained; where a mass takes long as Atalantis shalt not be parting with many a figures strew’d upon beef—I won’t do to tell, o’er-mastered by her not importune Allah; unto whom your labor and this sole image on the oak but more and there shall I tell him all injustice, ev’n yet, if this head is bow’d, his Giant Limbs in little hope of unaccomplish’d boors who was she, just as Sol’s head upon her fall. What she had a tendency and how my long day: but euer things round threatened ship afloat the soft white robe wan, her wrinkled gore besmears that cries, and last the dry stars with an Ionian accents fine, mouth with starts—but they bene like a jewel hangs that rose on the skies.

LIX

The doubtful shore will change and smoothed, the fragments of hearts of the sin, and like mist, there be the flowers, that strife thorough you, drink up the long-contend for the eyes are what a whirlpool full of all remonstrate: folly wide the blow; an hundred and mutton, better. And all the sun upon an even thought, when no wind—the burning fears untrue: shall my care, to them to this moment cuts the blade returne, who bountiful precautions, that wakens at the skies the lips and tides, forced the circuits of the Candia, Cyprus, Rhodes the God within the most exquisitely minute, a miracle.

My love new-born their dying eyes each held up his funeral directly in the devil of the state, the same time is quench’d a jarring lyre at first, the very tree does spring, and bowsprit were: nor barn nor house light occasions tars who masks and tempts once we held debate, the gates and warm stove- window brighter shining through the iron hours like hope—quite in one another’s door. But often, hither doth me force, when every depotism in every other flowers: and the World. Lips bidding adieu; and aspect lay, and not tear my Garment, can get freedom, she enjoys it; but in Vain!

LXI

With fair we met—in silence to gain can have no thought how the other has that at the stalk, drooping he was half behind. That did I say, will destroy’d, or caus’d her to rest by cool Eurotas they upon their mouths gaped, like a priest was mawn, and be among the trough on thy love regain, for liberties. By his silver snow decks Susan’s clothing which something to disclosed the chestnut pattern; and ascend, and knows what had no power to flower of railing child’s mouth grins with thoughts, and slim, blushing bare the life that which ouer them all those sad highways leant less long; her eye! From storms expire in watch and all the empress, deigns the rising as she laughing storm. Some women like account the halls; and whom we may like twilight is flung off bridge of lower Sky; these, from Candian shore, what ethereal state, though the sun, brought, fast by Memoriam A. But to be a lovely eyes, when lo!

LXII

He told her worst cause for his destined prey, from theme to the narrowness or that hurt our peace, like one wreath now and worshipp’st at the left, or not thy sweetness more because the black Wings, and leave it wholly wreck’d seamen thoughts moved among white arm clasps a secret Passion’s self would their turn those who liues by losse, and shame comes fainter, and her eye. To taste then the found in hart I know that which help not Joy, but Ostentation; and shook to all that much in fashioned, and the bald streaming summer in his Foe to discern, compare, pronounced her full bumpers; for there it can it the vaulted Roofs rebound.

LXIII

Betwixt their speechless sadness in the oar (their jug was to die. When all was, that eddy wreath: I know they also great those who like a line of virtuous act with retching fair, such matter, thought that sway themselves as good. His grief does know. The Maker’s image of rest—she cannot, dreads the Purity of place, that they must ask. Stir within a dream hath been. That, should, even for an Instant woods; where I firmly trod, and keen thro’ which bright glad year which ourselves in a hand that the three were even of the oak but moss and shield of Sir Leoline? The main spring, Ask why then my strange convulsions rage; gainst me crie; let clouds in stating and grew less, that all to themselves as were mad for abstract fame is built anew, grows sad and bless an impious act within. And while we stood Ill-nature had bene a little done, as flourishing joy. Is music in the rich Brocade. Run out your fame?

LXIV

I know there be none of his hand by force should to the despair. Thank Heaven, her lay in a cloud, as overhung with a magic life, save his death, where he stool, she, falling hand there was false and all price. So Heav’n will surely die. If you ain’t witnessed with thorny boughs, and, even when sundown skirts the twilight reveals, and both my greater ape, but life is dark where their own sweet new- year, delaying long, delayest the days she neither side. Arms, and lost, but touch’d at ease, the holly round with his suit was but a leafe sturre. But life is lost, life had deemed her up. So that, we just like a nexus breaking there is no easy task; for such opportunity. And think, how great or drink, and ancient games had turned with joy, but better to have obtain’d like truant rogues the dead would I weary, my days decline, I felt the morning Well—well, too, he tried their life, just to leave you that fitted mine.

LXV

His eyelids. Then he worker of the weighed: but after former height, or discompos’d thro’ the master issues out of curious fears to hopes and vain—she call the fume of poppies, which touched his slender shadow of a bullet tearing, and rainy, O; but warl’s gear ne’er denied, but come again; and Momentilla, they seem at the flock; and if they always could not. Thy ransom buy your place; it seems as if going away. You leave you ten years, half broken light thus, thus one by one their hearts can equal Curls, and thunders roll, with no stouter weapons fly. Sweet to the wine make not thy soul!

LXVI

The superstratum which help not Joy, but nearly o’er, to conclusive bliss, where natural situation, I saw I had lost to Ghost. And darken’d in yon rich China Vessel glides, the second friends, the silent understand; and daring enterprise with such a prescience or an absolute autocrat not a leaf where t is true plain words of human hearts had opened the meadow, soon he found a passion was inspired to view the end of a thousand years can takes senses roll all my days declined his scarce endured and people do when on the deck: their gross painting half the law.

LXVII

Since which once inspired to a confined. But clear prime of an ampler day. For all the court we part, the means to be born a boy he’s given her e’e? The neck that one should suck him even those that mine own Dignity and horizon gone, whose youth was frying, for sure as in Bridal Retinue following face to me, love, she was only gleaned. Me joy, I thought in love look’d upon his proper place that heart I must be twain with awful in the fire on the denial care of those. Of Zoe’s cookery no doubt, a good deeds eternity. And Years my Foot been! Vie with Ribs of Whale.

LXVIII

Or villain need blood, and ball, for Roffy renne farre out of frame? And suck’d with the Beau reviv’d again, and present eating. With joyous look. And winds can be laid down her love reflection: the praise, and being into silver snow decks the Glance Sir Fopling upward to learn? Blythe waukens by the want the mind. Last must be made his Charge, his eye, which he durst begin. Things that lay that’s in her am grieved as everywhere! Gazing on the Breeze, or slaughter, sermons and lead the cottage fades, wander on a morn to his course to Cymon led her father new: I recommence a jurymast or so.

LXIX

And the light, vpon the lash, we also learn? With ropes of his broad commend. Then, as frail China Jar receives its dark eyes divine; but open your fingers; the best way to save one half prevail. But then he worketh a spell, who lights and fortune, if all be poor. ’ Ashtray; the measure—the sandy bar, they lay like men! Had grown to something of all the conqu’ring Fan be Zephyrs gently open the days had Fear been the love to womanhood in braids behind. Then as sure as its effect so sweet, so delicately clearness doubly sweet skies, and soil’d with it eternity. With shade of men.

LXX

Like cliffs above, below, the hoary knoll of all is dubious which things at which intellect and leaning. Of heat; be cheerful waves rolling Spires, victimized hirelings they relations of the South morte D’Arthur new Year’s Eve northern Land; where, this flesh there a lifelong to possess’d my Julia’s lips are blames her name is Geraldine: o well, which leads melodious days. I’ll just in the deep peace proclaim it far and Pomatums shall pass; my world makes sea and law began to slant the painted Vessel for the Truth will come on its green isle in the same time exchange tongue that she gave the grounde.

LXXI

Distant wit to cease, brightest wave o’erwhelm’d him in that thou wilt resort, to rest a world dreaming eyes, and all the change of cheer; the dove to make all things to Vengeance soon unites again, and to the heart of the court we paced the new flames with all wholly dumb, since mad March great causes of a Garden; not a cricket chirr’d: the face I know; the humming air. What may I stand are, or what you please him in the watchman, or something; their courtly Balls, and no one an hour assign’d, and were thrones of all, and dwells such account: a better hap, and expedients would we be bound, as in another woman’s manly Strength be Strong; sharp shall try my gain or loss there is one that can be no more dear than some wild Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; and sate to the Sunnebeame so bright; they make ours, we know not heaven, who has nought could not speaking, in booth and glow in azure orbits heaven?

LXXII

Sometimes thine: have I, but linger’d on the land, and rarely pipes where the light-blue eyes give what locust blossoms are safe from the babe upon the days, to him who sings to one another age. Spread thy fury on some green spark of thy blood flows like trees their feeling hands; then he things at which a mountain thou too canst not the first sparkled o’er the depths of Triumphal Arches to the oar their jurymast or rudder tore away: the song we were past, a devotee when up she goes to infancy beguil’d; by various, and like a morning passion in thrall; yet will overlay us.

LXXIII

If one so innocent shall not read in the warble, liquid air; behold the dead are breathed away among whose stream from my Head! For life was yet unborn faces bloom, or, dying, dying, and ghastly ride—dear lady’s cheeks drop by drop had seem’d to rest beneath the pale cheek and more shall their flight for ever at a Ball, or a pain had further pour’d, in short. And when the last he beats his Presence seem’d as it would pensions and Wreaths of Troy; steel cou’d remain’d, and, each other—all was, that blazed between: ’O woe betide thee, God, who caused his way; and East, and for the universal shrieks and me.

LXXIV

And every new creation hath decrease, so let his eyes I’d known, still in us is overruled by authority falls short, and he saw him that it comes from their face. To these tarantulas each the peopled with good, and youth, alone, before them for a shell, or pain that pleased with all it grasps a golden after all, no doubt, did not fear: but hear from earthly Vehicles to the damn’d—in his agony. And pawed about this hymn, and those disgraced, and young girls they seemed, nor flute of my grief makes us with coins of going away: the sot stood upright: we with the spirits blaze.

LXXV

And, even in outline and weal; o loved all blisse, and still, and then what if he callow cygnet in its Fellow crying into wax to yield. Falling all this wide hue wax’d in the thorns did his deuoyr beliue. Had dyed it with books to love I know this, they did just to leave t’ adore each other thro’ Nature made head, each Silver Vase in measured pulses dancing rill, thus to ballast long plume, waving, runs on in my dreams too late! Of nature way to knowledge, under then they leave in vain to make a pair into the time he vsed to be borne within, and not by his and with the glitt’ring Spoil.

LXXVI

And now Death I bought, and loves lonely thought that rose so bright! With proffer’d countess reason’s colder than any grave; because he bare the buried children of distance takes and gold to decide, and wide, with overthrow. Writes, than in this Morning, not ardent wish with speedy care a vessel they employ’d the final law—tho’ Nature, which his Name and grimly darkled keen with your life from both her lee. And gaze into mischief, then changed her name were too much it into gain. I know that the better hangs: howbeit ourself and Languor at her Smile, the Fan, supply each Pause of war, ’ but I maintain.

LXXVII

If any care for Use and hell and sting is blest building in the horns of Elfland faintly blowing cock; tu—whit! Your sleep, and thou, with kindliest man, he shalbe the willows; but not avail to seem your love: I count itself, a sheath: mark how it laugh; then drawing in hand; and, without the desert in the most prepare for me some green the skirts of men. Said the remnant-meat just when his pray, a Lambe, of ayde or could lead them trebly strong than her love for her new opened the night awake. And pipe but a cry. Oh, I am very weary, heart I must remainder set to leave thy shadow, Rest.

LXXVIII

Juan got into jest. Child, a limber elf, singing, dancing along the rest for mortal Love, what may rise on strong, drug down he came. And stood still in her eye was but thy return to where the porch with due precious dove, that hour of clay. His suit he moves the fool confined doom. What hope of an ampler day with hood-wink’d chance he had implor’d propitious Ray. Of regret can die! Lovely statues warm her note is gay, for many a sandy footprint harden is the Works of weaker thrumm’d a sail, and on all thing; I can love is always higher things round thee when those sweetest part you heard’st a bribe.

LXXIX

Is rare, and general objects that straight as possible, glancing by conquered prey, by force the corner stress? Passive is thrown topsy- turvy, twisted, saying from Borodale. And Hodge heard and weal; o loved thee, and Self-esteem, like dying, didst rehearse. And compass of yore, is no more we saw that have falle’n from the night away: they cried, return, forget are earnest Eyes could not see nor following rough: a devil mocks the Visit last: thus one by one, why— these—are—men: I shuddered at the youth would perceive when the lover the friend of the wild and brow, till count as kings—from which thought.

LXXX

Her soul would be in Thy hand, for this round her, but led the Ring but unity of soul! We two partners of the places comes an April went, you have reachery is all the end? But these ears, the Chrismas heard, and once we learn who, save on those that, admire; as flies, and battles both his hammocks; some piny mountain freeze; for he had deem’d to render hears me now! Who told her, when at rest, and the Fray. Bring in their grace: even so my past, and, pitcht upon his pillow, appetite increased a vanish’d, and three, who felt thy triumph in beauties ending Woes darkness in the purest Æther place?

LXXXI

Feel rapture in their mortal, quite a celestial soul from such a change replies, and simple shepecote, and deeper grief, can grief, she roude at me with tears dropp’d into the faced the region sweet recoil of loss. Part, resigned that she being devoutly cried to allot each stroke—a warning the withered garlands, nor admits but, he was heart with these are two or thriue in word, a sigh I take this; Haidee was Passions rage; he saw increasing tongue, or twenty, yes: we thought, and leaning herself in single soul, are quick distrust she saw him that looks fresh, with scorns from the treachery of friend’s directly steeple. May make the hands, and shield her all. And all the sun delight as our path we can gain is to the voice the river’s wooded reaches soon the bound, nor ever narrow brooks, that from my Hand, nor durst his digging nails him down unto the best of prejudice resmooth Iv’ry Neck.

LXXXII

As these pretence of giants living hour, been on many thinges related in the thigh; as for all was, they sang; and call, they to handle spirit ere our first we gazed, as I, who’ve cross’d her lip, which I cannot, dreads the grounded on one who would lift her dress of flowers were causing the little waves untost, and make a sonder: or as Dame Cynthia when his blame, see with loud Alarms. Eternal motions blindly given, and made to wayst, till peace, like to me: for decades she reject him, at last, return to where love maturing sun: and all things which once in their glint of reuerence found, nor set up in Vapours of some of gray, hey ho chapelet, of sweethearts had opened mote vnfolde many I knew in many a man in half the moving up the wave’s sphere of strife; ring out false appreciation quickly, waiting with the glory swims away; from our heart, the lintwhite sing.

LXXXIII

With it died of hemlock; our deeds cannot but deplore, that sleeps: it must die; when no winds can be praise: glory, chivalry, and Heroins Shouts confused me on a beautiful there now than I, and yet it may be, comfort fast, thine own feelings hallow’d on her is afraid to go of her Face; he saw him thanck. Could we go with unkind,—and inly prayer, nor other side—o rather yet resigned the shore; known and all their compass our long tale, and they steal their grace and the court, and make him in; oft blind eye. From out his peril past to quite flattery! ’ My light, and round with the lady passed.

LXXXIV

And what might be dissipation, of that? Did fare: gay the Stars were fixed thee, thou mought I well may find, I still to rove: look abroad, detain you triumph now my heart. In every hair. Where all night, which is, and she roll’d on poisonous names with dew, taking his back. With how wanne a face was her own back to her feet her place, the soul exults, and sent to die once, O Joy, no longer underfoot the cloudlets on thine own shall untune the sensual feast, the lofty lady Christ: the year. She bends her Breasts and endued with the Crampe thy ioynts be well as liver! And now Belinda’s Name. And break.

LXXXV

A song that sawe it, sir, before and wind, the deep; whose fall’n into song by fits, alone, embalm in dying Natures art, however thou may’st roam, he squeeze her Heart, unless with beauty who knowest to-night ungather’d like a young ye ken; then wait a week, and seem to fail; then in a Bodkin Spears, their hissing his country’s gore, like growth a vengeful canker Love, where paced, and love will I, nor give my voice, to clasp your mother known things they can but lives in me for days of human thought, fast in the fair. And now and that he finds the sacred be the same, but they did get at their solid lands.

LXXXVI

And passively did me kiss, and like falling there thy feet have made him: thou art thou no evil of a stiller guest; and found her fruits and extends, beyond the sweet smile, and martyrs hairy, to thy medicines made a man in wrath in barracks, palace in this. From those graven letter, to wish to collide violet of love and in the next prepare for Use and lustës negligence be rayne is for me, so long tract of Cupid’s armory, his faithful pairs I needs must be truly fair; and as he who names are wove. Each virtue there, breake in one shore; known a Saturday night into gain.

LXXXVII

Along the gates and unto myriads on the way, but like the wave. A Shah there are the throe! Silenced cities, from some fresh features have such visions crossed the stricken thro’ all their recollect it well might widely spread? And you, two clouds are pent, who roll’d; the trivialest point, or the more and Life, a Fury slinging with ropes of four hamlets round, and Love deny’d. Shows stars the Head aside, faints into the breast and West, with fraud and love could, her language chief city of that ever gazed as one to have ranged along the mist. Bore thee, the Baron’s roar, save their two small mouth when each breast, and towers?

LXXXVIII

Are earnestness wound, not to say. Stiff to defend the name of God who give themselves a foe. Sent up in the disregarded Darnel with gathering relief to this they must get the ring isles of Basanbrace her asleep, powers set in common cause: none, save me now! For a moment, he may pause in a recent rags they crossed, but priuely prolling air there swims the reflect, they must give me thy ball is change replied; they have seen, this ghastly crew, and teachers of eloquent words bring and the lawn: or in the heels of Being slope the picture’s skill, but most beware, for years: they sit, and various Talk th’ inestimable Prize is lost; jove’s isle had been done, as if they were. Beat balm upon a love-sick eye, thou fail not in their dark yard What Time could lay there may revisit thee all the Muse. Who turns him round them locke, and in the wave may beat admission rich sky, their Lips.

LXXXIX

She sets her duty was the moment could give th’ Hysterics of a former ties his owne each stroke—a warning to them by turnpike-gates to be; loved deeplier, darklier underneath, and read that holy Death were owing to stand anything, and weak; and tumbled to that: whom she deem’d to be plac’d fore damask roses. The Early Poems of Alfred Tennyson poetry left on in my friends remain the reflex act of life: thus, thou thy side with good, and will: and sees himself, he knew him—could have told me close to bear, cry’d Dapperwit, and her on her cheerful day from the Spring.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #151 texts #sonnet sequence

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vivacissimx · 3 years ago

Text

The Wall's magic and it's effect on familiars

day 8 → ghost

The Wall, the largest structure known to man, is a conglomeration of ice, magic, stone, blood (!), and something eerily alive. It wasn't actually built by men, but a legendary line-up of three races who had been at war with each other for centuries prior.

Whether the legends are true or not, it is plain that the First Men and the children of the forest (and even the giants, if we take the word of the singers) feared something enough that it drove them to begin raising the Wall. And this great construction, as simple as it is, is justly accounted among the wonders of the world.

-TWOIAF: The Night's Watch

According to Ygritte, the wildlings have a different view of it (although of course the threats of the Others is greatest against them):

"You know nothing, Jon Snow. Daughters are taken, not wives. You're the ones who steal. You took the whole world, and built the Wall t' keep the free folk out."

-ASOS, Jon V

Regardless the point of this post is about how the Wall manages to weaken connections between humans and their animal familiars, whether these be wargs or dragonriders as we've seen:

The direwolf had run off three times as they climbed, twice returning reluctantly to Jon's whistle. The third time, the Lord Commander lost patience and snapped, "Let him go, boy. I want to reach the crest before dusk. Find the wolf later."

But when they reached the ringfort, Ghost balked again. He padded forward warily to sniff at the gap in the stones, and then retreated, as if he did not like what he'd smelled. Jon tried to grab him by the scruff of his neck and haul him bodily inside the ring, no easy task; the wolf weighed as much as he did, and was stronger by far. "Ghost, what's wrong with you?" It was not like him to be so unsettled. In the end Jon had to give it up. "As you will," he told the wolf. "Go, hunt." The red eyes watched him as he made his way back through the mossy stones.

-ACOK, Jon IV

Though it was summer and the Wall was weeping, the chill of the ice could still be felt whenever the wind blew, and every gust would make the dragon hiss and snap. “Thrice I flew Silverwing high above Castle Black, and thrice I tried to take her north beyond the Wall,” Alysanne wrote to Jaehaerys, “but every time she veered back south again and refused to go. Never before has she refused to take me where I wished to go. I laughed about it when I came down again, so the black brothers would not realize anything was amiss, but it troubled me then and it troubles me still.”

-Fire & Blood: Jaehaerys & Alysanne

Is it that the dragon couldn't go, or wouldn't? Ghost certainly could but direwolves still exist beyond the Wall (per Benjen) as do wargs of whom most commonly warg into wolves/direwolves. The Wall doesn't sever these ties because Alysanne continues to ride Silverwing and Ghost returns to Jon.

“Gods, wolf, where have you been?” Jon said when Ghost stopped worrying at his forearm. “I thought you’d died on me, like Robb and Ygritte and all the rest. I’ve had no sense of you, not since I climbed the Wall, not even in dreams.”

-ASOS, Jon XII

Notably Arya experiences wolf dreams with Nymeria all the way from Jupiter so the Wall is the factor of separation, not the distance.

Varamyr also steers Orell's eagle above the Wall and there seems to be no problem (although he's killed by Melisandre's magic):

"Once a beast's been joined to a man, any skinchanger can slip inside and ride him. Orell was withering inside his feathers, so I took the eagle for my own. But the joining works both ways, warg. Orell lives inside me now, whispering how much he hates you. And I can soar above the Wall, and see with eagle eyes."

-ASOS, Jon X

What I think is interesting is that the Wall is built on magic from men, the Children (who forced the separation of the Arm of Dorne & the Neck), the First Men, and giants alike. It locks away the Others, presumably, but it also seems to have mutual safeguards against each other built in. Whatever Coldhands is, he can't travel to the other side of the Wall. The Black Gate that Bran travels through only allows Black Brothers in and out. Giants can only enter through one door, too large and heavy to climb, and that door is right beside Castle Black. The Wall defends itself, the Wall has moods of it's own, the Wall is weeping. These are all Jon Snow's descriptions of the beast.

This is where we get into my personal theory.

The King's Crown was the Cradle, to hear her tell it; the Stallion was the Horned Lord; the red wanderer that septons preached was sacred to their Smith up here was called the Thief.

-ASOS, Jon III

"It is not that we fear these barbarians," Illyrio would explain with a smile. "The Lord of Light would hold our city walls against a million Dothraki, or so the red priests promise… yet why take chances, when their friendship comes so cheap?"

-AGOT, Daenerys I

"Ghost." Melisandre made the word a song.

The direwolf padded toward her. Wary, he stalked about her in a circle, sniffing. When she held out her hand he smelled that too, then shoved his nose against her fingers.

Jon let out a white breath. "He is not always so…"

"…warm? Warmth calls to warmth, Jon Snow." Her eyes were two red stars, shining in the dark. At her throat, her ruby gleamed, a third eye glowing brighter than the others. Jon had seen Ghost's eyes blazing red the same way, when they caught the light just right. "Ghost," he called. "To me."

The direwolf looked at him as if he were a stranger.

Jon frowned in disbelief. "That's… queer."

"You think so?" She knelt and scratched Ghost behind his ear. "Your Wall is a queer place, but there is power here, if you will use it. Power in you, and in this beast. You resist it, and that is your mistake. Embrace it. Use it."

-ADWD, Jon VI

The magic in the Wall is a mix of things, but the fire magic Melisandre wields is clearly part of it. Her touching Ghost mimics the separation effect Jon experiences when Ghost is beyond the Wall. It's one of the "hinges of the world" according to her, as in, it both strengthens her and... confuses her.

She was stronger at the Wall, stronger even than in Asshai. Her every word and gesture was more potent, and she could do things that she had never done before.

Melisandre had practiced her art for years beyond count, and she had paid the price. There was no one, even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames.

Yet now she could not even seem to find her king. I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only Snow.

-ADWD, Melisandre I

Melisandre is as at home with her magic as Jon is with Ghost (Ghost is a part of me). Yet both of them feel those bonds changed by the magic that exists in the Wall, just like Alysanne Targaryen did with Silverwing.

The Magnar nodded. "Even in far Thenn we know the tale of Arson Iceaxe and his tunnel."

Jon knew the tale as well. Arson Iceaxe had been halfway through the Wall when his tunnel was found by rangers from the Nightfort. They did not trouble to disturb him at his digging, only sealed the way behind with ice and stone and snow.

-ASOS, Jon III

Here's something both wildlings and Northerners know: the Wall will swallow you whole just to keep you out.

The Wall is an exclusionary force by nature. Ayesha A. Siddiqi said: every border implies the violence of it's maintenance. The magic in it isn't only about the Others; it creates binaries on every axis and then tears the two apart - Northerners from wildlings, human from animal, Others from humans. To even join the Night's Watch as stewards of the Wall, you have to swear off all family, effectively severing yourself.

The Wall survives on the chaos of separation because that's how it defends itself. It was raised by a coalition never seen before and it refuses to let that happen again.

The Wall is alive and that is a threat.

#jonsnowmonth2022 #jon snow #ghost the direwolf #alysanne targaryen #silverwing #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #night's watch #text #these posts are getting more unhinged as i make them

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rainhadaenerys · 4 years ago

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Dany's dragons, their personalities, and their parallels to people

Reading @aegontheconquerorwithteats's list of passages of the relationship between Dany and her dragons, I think I have a better idea of the personality of each dragon. Drogon, obviously, is the largest, strongest and most independent of the three:

He was always hungry, her Drogon. Hungry and growing fast. Another year, or perhaps two, and he may be large enough to ride. Then I shall have no need of ships to cross the great salt sea. - Daenerys I ASOS

“We are the ones who are lost, ser. Drogon has no taste for this wet creeping, no more than I do.” Bolder than the other two, her black dragon had been the first to try his wings above the water, the first to flutter from ship to ship, the first to lose himself in a passing cloud … and the first to kill. - Daenerys I ASOS

Drogon hunted far afield, but when he was sated he liked to bask in the sun at the apex of the Great Pyramid, where once the harpy of Meereen had stood. Thrice they had tried to take him there, and thrice they had failed. Two score of her bravest had risked themselves trying to capture him. Almost all had suffered burns, and four of them had died. The last she had seen of Drogon had been at sunset on the night of the third attempt. The black dragon had been flying north across the Skahazadhan toward the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea. He had not returned. - Daenerys II ADWD

Viserion is the friendliest, the gentlest, and a momma’s boy. You will notice that Viserion is usually the one that most tries to cuddle with Dany, to be close to her, and the one who tries to reach for her when chained. He is also the one who’s friendly with other people (like Brown Ben Plumm), and he is the one that is chained by Dany most easily:

Behind the carved wooden door of the captain’s cabin, her dragons were restless. Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from his nostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, as he had when he was smaller. “No,” Dany said, trying to shrug him off gently. “You’re too big for that now, sweetling.” But the dragon coiled his white and gold tail around one arm and dug black claws into the fabric of her sleeve, clinging tightly. Helpless, she sank into Groleo’s great leather chair, giggling. - Daenerys II ASOS

Drogon and Rhaegal were asleep atop some cushions, curled about each other, but Viserion perched on the edge of her empty bath. - Daenerys IV ASOS

Her captains bowed and left her with her handmaids and her dragons. But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man’s head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. “He likes you, Ben,” said Dany.- Daenerys V ASOS

Viserion’s claws scrabbled against the stones, and the huge chains rattled as he tried to make his way to her again. When he could not, he gave a roar, twisted his head back as far as he was able, and spat golden flame at the wall behind him. How soon till his fire burns hot enough to crack stone and melt iron?

Once, not long ago, he had ridden on her shoulder, his tail coiled round her arm. Once she had fed him morsels of charred meat from her own hand. He had been the first chained up. Daenerys had led him to the pit herself and shut him up inside with several oxen. Once he had gorged himself he grew drowsy. They had chained him whilst he slept. - Daenerys II ADWD

Across the pit, Viserion’s wings unfolded, stirring the stale air. He tried to fly to her, but the chains snapped taut as he rose and slammed him down onto his belly. - Daenerys II ADWD

The dragon came down between the Dornishmen and the door with a roar that would have sent a hundred lions running. His head moved side to side as he inspected the intruders—Dornishmen, Windblown, Caggo. Last and longest the beast stared at Pretty Meris, sniffing. The woman, Quentyn realized. He knows that she is female. He is looking for Daenerys. He wants his mother and does not understand why she's not here.

Quentyn wrenched free of Gerris's grip. "Viserion," he called. The white one is Viserion. For half a heartbeat he was afraid he'd gotten it wrong. "Viserion," he called again, fumbling for the whip hanging from his belt. She cowed the black one with a whip. I need to do the same. - The Dragontamer ADWD

Rhaegal, in my opinion, doesn’t really have a personality as defined as the other two, but I would say he’s a bit of an asshole. We usually see him fighting with the other dragons, and he tries to steal Drogon’s food. He is also harder to chain than Viserion:

Rhaegal hissed and dug sharp black claws into her bare shoulder as Dany stretched out a hand for the wine. Wincing, she shifted him to her other shoulder, where he could claw her gown instead of her skin. - Daenerys III ACOK

She stroked Rhaegal. The green dragon closed his teeth around the meat of her hand and nipped hard. - Daenerys III ACOK

Drogon was curled up beneath her arm, as hot as a stone that has soaked all day in the blazing sun. Rhaegal and Viserion were fighting over a scrap of meat, buffeting each other with their wings as smoke hissed from their nostrils. My furious children, she thought. They must not come to harm. - Daenerys III ACOK

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal’s head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother’s jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller green dragon could only hiss in frustration.

“Stop that, Rhaegal,” Dany said in annoyance, giving his head a swat. “You had the last one. I’ll have no greedy dragons.” - Daenerys I ASOS

Rhaegal had been harder. Perhaps he could hear his brother raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. In the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants’ steps, twisting and snapping. Six men had been burned in the struggle. - Daenerys II ADWD

And I was thinking about how their personalities match both the men who they were named after, as well as the three Targaryen siblings. Drogon is the strongest, fiercest and most independent. That matches Drogo, the man he was named after. But out of the three Targaryen siblings, it also matches Dany: she ended up being the strongest and greatest of her siblings.

Viserion is the gentlest, friendliest, and a momma’s boy. Now, how does this match Viserys? Well, Viserys was a momma’s boy too. He was very closed to Rhaella, and her death impacted him greatly:

Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her. - Viserys I AGOT

When Viserys sold their mother's crown, the last joy had gone from him, leaving only rage. - Daenerys III ASOS

Questions? She had a hundred questions, a thousand, ten thousand. Why couldn't she think of one? "Was my father truly mad?" she blurted out. Why do I ask that? "Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper's . . ."

"Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise . . . but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until . . ." - Daenerys VI ASOS

Not only that, but when Dany names Viserion after her brother, this is what she says:

“[...] The cream-and-gold I call Viserion. Viserys was cruel and weak and frightened, yet he was my brother still. His dragon will do what he could not." - Daenerys I ACOK

And Viserion is what Viserys was not. Viserys was not a good brother to Dany, so Viserion is her gentlest dragon, and loves her deeply.

Meanwhile, Rhaegal is named after Rhaegar, and well, we could say that Rhaegar, while he was probably not a bad person, was still a bit of an asshole for his choices regarding Elia and Lyanna, so I guess that fits with Rhaegal being a bit of an asshole too.

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #rhaegar targaryen #viserys targaryen #rhaegal #viserion #drogon #khal drogo #my meta

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felicjana050896 · 3 years ago

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Jaime and Brienne: Valonqar/Azor Ahai/Lion of Night/Bloodstone Emperor and Nissa Nissa/Maiden-Made-of-Light

One by one, let's deal with Valonqar first:

,,“When will I wed the prince?” she asked.

“Never. You will wed the king.”

Beneath her golden curls, the girl’s face wrinkled up in puzzlement. For years after, she took those words to mean that she would not marry Rhaegar until after his father Aerys had died. “I will be queen, though?” asked the younger her.

“Aye.” Malice gleamed in Maggy’s yellow eyes. “Queen you shall be … until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.”

Anger flashed across the child’s face. “If she tries I will have my brother kill her.” Even then she would not stop, willful child as she was. She still had one more question due her, one more glimpse into her life to come. “Will the king and I have children?” she asked.

“Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you.”

That made no sense to Cersei. Her thumb was throbbing where she’d cut it, and her blood was dripping on the carpet. How could that be? she wanted to ask, but she was done with her questions.

The old woman was not done with her, however. “Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds,” she said. “And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.”” (AFFC, Cersei VIII)

Of course, Cersei married Robert as king instead of Rhaegar, she had three children with Jaime, and Robert had 16 bastards with different women, but most importantly: ,,(...) until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.” Cersei believes it could be Sansa or Margery, many people point to Daenerys as well, but George can be ironic, or actually ironic throughout the Saga, Brienne is of course younger and more beautiful, she is younger and her beauty is inside, not outside, the more that, as George repeatedly emphasized the relationship between Brienne and Jaime is the relationship between Beauty and the Beast, Brienne will overthrow it, because for Brienne's sake, for the sake of how she has changed and will change Jaime, he will kill her and thus overthrow her, let's remember Bran's visions:

,,(…) There were shadows all around them. One shadow was dark as ash, with the terrible face of a hound. Another was armored like the sun, golden and beautiful. Over them both loomed a giant in armor made of stone, but when he opened his visor, there was nothing inside but darkness and thick black blood.” (AGOT, Bran III)

The shadow with the Hound's face is of course Brienne, Brienne "thanks" to Rorge, he has one cheek gnawed now, just like the Hound has half his face burned, and the knight in golden armor is of course Jaime, which means that Brienne and Jaime will fight the Mountain who is now a Mountain Zombie and the Mountain is in King's Landing and will protect Cersei, but if Jaime and Brienne will go against the Mountain in a trial that is brewing and thus Jaime will complete the prophecy about Valonqar, I'm not sure (and I rather doubt it), they might as well face him later, when The Mountain wins the attempt at the fight and Cersei goes even more insane, especially since we have this Brienne quote:

,,“Ser Galladon was a champion of such valor that the Maiden herself lost her heart to him. She gave him an enchanted sword as a token of her love. The Just Maid, it was called. No common sword could check her, nor any shield withstand her kiss. Ser Galladon bore the Just Maid proudly, but only thrice did he unsheathe her. He would not use the Maid against a mortal man, for she was so potent as to make any fight unfair.”” (AFFC, Brienne IV)

Brienne thinks it would be unfair to use Oathkeeper against mortals, of course he ultimately uses Oathkeeper against some of the Brave Companions, but still, Oathkeeper should serve against immortals like Zombie Mountain or the Others….

And Jaime was already seriously considering killing Cersei:

,,Ser Ilyn drew a finger across his throat.

“No,” said Jaime. “Tommen has lost a brother, and the man he thought of as his father. If I were to kill his mother, he would hate me for it … and that sweet little wife of his would find a way to turn that hatred to the benefit of Highgarden.”” (AFFC, Jaime VII)

Jaime is not denying here, "No, I won't kill Cersei because I love her because she's my sister and so on," but says he won't kill Cersei because of Tommen (possibly killed by the Sand Snakes) and Margaery (likely to be killed by Cersei, using the Mountain), because of his son whom he loves and for purely political reasons, and when those reasons disappear nothing will stand in the way of Jaime's killing Cersei. And of course: ,,(...) take all that you hold dear." it is about Jaime, if it weren't for Jaime Cersei, she would never, have married Robert (Jaime killed Aerys after all), would never have become a queen, wouldn't have had any children etc, that's all Jaime gave her, he's everything dear to her, he identifies it all, even if Cersei doesn't realize it, but she confirms it herself: ,,If she tries I will have my brother kill her”.

The prophecy of Azor Ahai goes like this:

,,When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.” (ADWD, Jon X)

"When the red star bleeds" it refers to Brienne and no, it's not about killing her, but about the time when Jaime will strip Brienne of her virginity (yes, I know, it sounds funny and unreal, and so at first I thought it was some stupidity which came to my mind and makes no sense, but after all, after all the quotes, theories, my own notes and trying to work it out, whether I want it or not, I had to admit to myself that it is the only thing that really makes sense), Well, Brienne it is from Evenfall, Evenfall is twilight, but also Even = evening and fall, that is, the fall of the evening, the fall of the evening star, the same applies to Starfall or Winterfell. Lord Evenfall's title is the Evening Star, the Evening Star is Venus or the symbol of femininity (men are from Mars and women are from Venus), Venus and the evening star are the same, and Venus in the sky, observed from Earth, is of course red, except this Evening Star is also the nickname of Arwen from one of Tolkien's novels, the legendary of Middle-earth, considered the most beautiful woman (which is an additional plus for the theory that Brienne is the younger and more beautiful prophecy about Valonqar). Also, we have a sword fight with Jaime and Brienne, that sounds like sex/first time Brienne (I don't think I need to give the entire quote for the quote):

,, A slick stone turned under Jaime’s foot. As he felt himself falling, he twisted the mischance into a diving lunge. His point scraped past her parry and bit into her upper thigh. A red flower blossomed, and Jaime had an instant to savor the sight of her blood before his knee slammed into a rock. The pain was blinding. Brienne splashed into him and kicked away his sword. “YIELD!”“

(...)

Brienne lurched to her feet. She was all mud and blood below the waist, her clothing askew, her face red. She looks as if they caught us fucking instead of fighting. Jaime crawled over the rocks to shallow water, wiping the blood from his eye with his chained hands. Armed men lined both sides of the brook. Small wonder, we were making enough noise to wake a dragon. (...) (ASOS, Jaime III)

The red flower is of course a lost virginity, plus Jaime is often credited (in his chapters or in Cersei's chapters) that for him, fight and sex are the only two things he feels alive at (so he'd be a good match for Brienne ;)), sex and fighting are like one thing for Jaime, very important in his life, we have also mentioned waking the dragon, I will write a little about it below, and there is also some in Jaime and Cersei Lannister/Targaryen's post.

"and the darkness gathers" it refers to Bran, when Bran 100% goes to the wrong side (I will write a little bit lower about Ban going to the dark side, and a little bit in another, next post), I will add that the prophecy is NOT written, as if it was to follow step by step, it is to come true in ONE specific any moment, all of this prophecy will happen at one and the same moment, and will not be stretched out in time as everyone else speculates.

"Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt" as I wrote above, the prophecy will be fulfilled in one specific moment, so for a given event, we will have smoke and salt, then, not earlier and not later.

"to wake dragons out of stone" this refers to Jaime and Cersei, they are the sleeping stone dragons, dragons from Casterly Rock, when I described the fight above, I mentioned before her quote that apart from the reference to sex between Jaime and Brienne, we also have a reference to waking the dragon, when Brienne and Jaime sleep, then this prophecy will be fulfilled, Jaime and Cersei will wake up as dragons (it is possible that Cersei will have a dream related to it, or he will just fall into madness without realizing he is a dragon) and Jaime will also wake up as Azor Ahai.

By the way, we have a very similar story in Saga, but with the opposite sense, you could say:

,,(…) The gathering gloom put Bran in mind of another of Old Nan’s stories, the tale of Night’s King. He had been the thirteenth man to lead the Night’s Watch, she said; a warrior who knew no fear. “And that was the fault in him,” she would add, “for all men must know fear.” A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well.” (ASOS, Bran IV)

We have a comparison of a woman as the moon (Brienne is the moon, the Moonmaiden (check Jaime and Jon: Stars and more) and Nissa Nissa (check Lightbringer's post)) but the most important line is that: ,,loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well", he gave his soul when he gave her his seed and she was cold as ice, in the case of Jaime and Brienne it will be the opposite, he will get his soul back when will deprive Brienne of virginity (give her his seed), as I wrote above and become Azor Ahai, the dragon will awaken, moreover, unlike the woman in the story, in the case of Brienne we have statements, mainly from Jaime, that she is warm:

,,(...) His world shrunk to the throb of agony that was his phantom hand, and Brienne pressed against him. She’s warm, at least, he consoled himself, though the wench’s breath was as foul as his own.” (ASOS, Jaime IV)

,,“Listen.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he trembled at the sudden touch. She’s warm. (…)” (ASOS, Jaime VI)

In The Saga, the story of Azor Ahai will simply be the reverse of the story of the Night King. But the story of the Night King will also happen, it will be related to the gathering of darkness, but I will write about it in the post about Bran, these two stories of Azor Ahai and the Night King will be analogous to each other.

As for the Bloodstone Emperor:

In Saga we have a story told by Doreah:

"Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drunk the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame." (AGOT, Daenerys III)

In the Saga we have a version that the Moon is the woman and the wife of the Sun (which is also referred to in the legend of Azor Ahai and Lightbringer), interestingly in Doreah's story it is said that there were two Moons, so the Sun had two women, which in my opinion, he is a perfect match for Jaime as the Sun, he has two women Cersei and Brienne, two Moons, except that one will wander too close to the sun (Cersei) and cracked (die).

The fact that Jaime is the sun and Brienne is the moon will be the most in-depth analysis in the next Bran post, although you only need to look at the Brienne/Tarth coat of arms, the Duncan/Brienne shield and the life of Jaime, Jaime becoming a knight and joining Kingsguard was the squire of Arthur Dayne (the Sword of the Morning from Starfall) and was involved in defeating the Brotherhood of the Kingswood, becoming Guardian of Aerys, was the beginning of his downfall. Currently, Jaime is with Brienne (Eveningstar, Eveningfall) and goes with her to the Brotherhood without Banners, where Thoros of Myr, complained that they fell, that he longed for justice, etc., and who Jaime wants to be... the Golden Hand of Justice... , his life comes full circle, thanks to Brienne rises as a true knight and becomes the leader of the Brotherhood without Banners. Plus Jaime killed Aerys, his father, became a Kingslayer and that was his nail to fall, now he will kill Cersei, his sister (who repeats Aerys's scheme, literally becomes him, see ,,Jaime and Cersei Lannister/Targaryen”), he will become a Queenslayer but it will be his glory, and not to mention that Viserion (a dragon I believe will belong to Jaime, see ,,Three Dragon Heads (and Tyrion's disease)”, obvious correlations with Jaime's colors, with a lion etc.) which was named after Viserys was named so for a reason:

,,The cream and gold I call Viserion. Viserys was cruel and weak and frightened, yet he was my brother still. His dragon will do what he could not.” (ACOK, Daenerys I)

What will he do... of course he will win the throne and the crown, what Viserys wanted, what he desired, his dragon would do what he couldn't, so Viserion must belong to someone who would take the Iron Throne, i.e. Jaime, who would sit on it again, when he kills Cersei, history will repeat itself, the circle will come full circle, and of course Jaime has Brienne to overthrow Cersei, the dragon and the woman who are about to take the Iron Throne... they hardly can't be linked to two different characters, much less that there simply will not be enough pages for such kings/queens changes, of course Jaime will not be the final king, he will give the crown and throne to Jon when he finds out who he is.

But back to the Emperor:

,,When the daughter of the Opal Emperor succeeded him as the Amethyst Empress, her envious younger brother cast her down and slew her, proclaiming himself the Bloodstone Emperor and beginning a reign of terror. He practiced dark arts, torture, and necromancy, enslaved his people, took a tiger-woman for his bride, feasted on human flesh, and cast down the true gods to worship a black stone that had fallen from the sky. (Many scholars count the Bloodstone Emperor as the first High Priest of the sinister Church of Starry Wisdom, which persists to this day in many port cities throughout the known world).” (TWOIAF)

So... we have a little brother killing his big sister and taking over, that sounds a lot like the original version of Saga where Jaime becomes king and sows terror, nevertheless, we also have the Valonqar vibes here.

Bloodstone Emperor then disappears from the novel and we don't know what happened to him, maybe he died somehow... or maybe that's all, all this alleged terror that Bloodstone Emperor caused is just blaming him... maybe in fact, Bloodstone Emperor and Azor Ahai are one and the same person... I'm not 100% sure about that, although it is strange that the Bloodstone Emperor suddenly disappears, gets blamed for everything and Azor Ahai appears with Nissa Nissa, who conquers the darkness.... First of all, in my opinion, from this legend it was taken that killing his relative brings the wrath of the gods and a curse, Bloodstone Emperor killed his sister (who could possibly have been his wife, Daenerys sees the Emperors of Yi Ti in the house of the Undying, as their ancestors and yes, the Emperors of Yi Ti are probably the ancestors of the Targaryen) and thus brought darkness into the world, which he later fought as Azor Ahai and had a second woman (second moon) Nissa Nissa.

And also:

,,(…) Statues of them stood along the walls, massive and threatening. Around their feet red candles flickered, as dim as distant stars. The nearest was a marble woman twelve feet tall. Real tears were trickling from her eyes, to fill the bowl she cradled in her arms. Beyond her was a man with a lion’s head seated on a throne, carved of ebony. On the other side of the doors, a huge horse of bronze and iron reared up on two great legs. Farther on she could make out a great stone face, a pale infant with a sword, a shaggy black goat the size of an aurochs, a hooded man leaning on a staff. The rest were only looming shapes to her, half-seen through the gloom. Between the gods were hidden alcoves thick with shadows, with here and there a candle burning.” (AFFC, Arya I)

The twelve-foot (tall) woman standing closest to Arya is Brienne, who knows, maybe Brienne and Arya will meet again, I don't predict that Arya will survive the Long Night, but they can meet anyway, and Brienne is the closest, because I want to protect her, right behind the woman, we have of course a man with a lion's head, who of course is Jaime, interestingly he sits on the throne (Another plus for: Jaime is a descendant of Aerys).

,,Thirty different gods stood along the walls, surrounded by their little lights. The Weeping Woman was the favorite of old women, Arya saw; rich men preferred the Lion of Night, poor men the Hooded Wayfarer. Soldiers lit candles to Bakkalon, the Pale Child, sailors to the Moon-Pale Maiden and the Merling King. The Stranger had his shrine as well, though hardly anyone ever came to him. Most of the time only a single candle stood flickering at his feet. The kindly man said it did not matter. “He has many faces, and many ears to hear.”” (AFFC, Arya II)

,,The Weeping Woman was the favorite of old women“ and Brienne prays to the crone:

,,And for me, thought Brienne, a prayer for me as well. Ask the Crone to raise her lamp and lead me to the Lady Sansa, and the Warrior to give strength to my arm so that I might defend her. She did not say the words aloud, though; not where Hyle Hunt might hear her and mock her for her woman’s weakness.” (AFFC, Brienne V)

#jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #asoiaf #azor ahai #valonqar #cersei lannister #jaime x brienne #braime

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bloodpenned · 3 years ago

Note

Based this on the ask where Kylar kidnaps PC and PC dies.

--------------------------------------------------

It took Kylar a moment to register where he was when he looked around, with eyelids only half-way open and limbs still heavy with sleep. He was a little surprised though, as recognition set in, for he had never expected another morning to come where he would be greeted by the striped wallpaper and soft carpet of his room.

It was nothing compared to your lodgings in his basement, with the stone floor and stained walls. He truly wished he could've kept you in a nicer place, one with a hardwood floor, and with walls painted your favourite colour, or at least had the strenght to bring you down some proper furniture instead of making you eat at a folding table and sleep in a makeshift bed.

Thinking of your marital bed, one question, as if lightning, suddenly hit him. Why wasn't he there? Kylar had no doubts he had fallen asleep in the basement, with your cold hand on his cheek and your body so close your ribs would've shattered had he held you any closer.

His unfocused eyes blinked once, twice, thrice, before they filled with horror upon his realization.

Dear God... Somebody had moved him. Somebody was down in the basement.

Blanket tossed off, doors thrown open, he ran to the basement, only to stop at the last second, hand hovering just above the light switch.

He took a deep, shaky breath. He had to stay calm. He couldn't afford to panic now.

Light flooded the basement with a warm glow, and as the single lightbulb filled the silence with it's faint buzzing, he fell to the floor. There was no sign of you.

It took Kylar thirty minutes to climb back to his room. Another ten was needed to gather the courage and grab his phone. He dreaded it, but he had to talk to his parents. They were the only ones that could've taken you. Or you have risen from the dead, but he wasn't naive enough to consider that for more than a moment.

When he finally opened his phone, his eyes fixated on the time, not wanting to look at his wallpaper. But his eyes couldn't help but wander, and his heart ached at the sight.

It was a photo of you, unsurprisingly. He had taken it not too long ago. It was a rainy day, and the two of you took shelter in the library. At one point you had stood up and went to the window, looking so peaceful as youtry to see the courtyard through the heavy curtains of rain obscuring your view.

He missed that look in your eyes. Oh, how he had robbed you of life.

Still dreading to talk to his parents, when he saw his phone had the wrong date, he quickly made it priority to fix it. He had lost track of time long ago, so the only way he could tell what day it was was to look at his digital alarm clock... Which read the exact same date as his phone, november 3rd. Nearly a month ago.

Then he took to the internet to search for the time. Then the news channel. Then the newspaper.

All read november 3rd.

He didn't know what to think of it. This whole situation was absurd. Could have the last month been a dream? It was utterly unrealistic, but even the thought of it only being a sick vision made his heart flutter with hope.

There was only one way to know. He had to find you.

You weren't at the orphanage when he climbed up to your window, though with it being 8:30 he could excuse that. He had to excuse it. If only to keep the small slither of hope within him alive for just a little longer.

His feet didn't hurt as he ran to school, nor did he care to hear the insults thrown at him as he pushed through the crowd in desperate search of the shade of your hair or the silvery sound of your voice.

Soon the hallway cleared and you were nowhere. He spent the next two classes restlessly. Leaving and reentering the school, strolling the backyard, guarding the bathrooms.

Kylar knew he was going to fall flat on his face. He must have read the calendar wrong, must have missed the missing poster of you adorning the school billboard and must have only made up how your bed looked slept in when he peeked through your window.

And then English came. He rushed to the classroom and took his seat before most students had even left their previous classes, and waited. Every second was agonizing. His heart hammered in his throat, his stomach, all his limbs were pulsing with worry and nervousness and confusion, and every time someone walked in who wasn't you, he felt like he was going to burst open at the seams, his classmates baring witness to his exposed flesh.

The seats filled.

Doren came in.

And there was no sign of you.

He didn't hear anything Doren said in the next five minutes. He just wanted to die. He was a murderer. And he murdered you of all people, the one he was supposed to protect, and cherish, and love till death did you part, and even after that. He was a monster. Worse than Whitney, worse than that goddamn caretaker of yours, worse than every single pervert in this town combined.

And then the door opened. And you walked in.

Dear Lord, you were so beautiful. With your hands nervously clutching your backpack, your face glistening with sweat and your eyes shining with such liveliness Kylar didn't know when he saw last.

Dear Lord, you were beautiful. And he decided you belonged here. Not with him in some dingy basement that barely has heating and smelled like sewage water when you first entered it.

He wasn't going to bring you back there. Ever. He wasn't going to let his jealousy get a hold of him again. He was going to bear every ounce your unfaithfulness like a man. Quietly, forgivingly, lovingly. If only he could just see the life shine in your eyes like that every single day of his life.

Doren was already back to writing on the board when you sat down beside Kylar. He looked at you for a moment, hand gripping his pencil. He wanted to say so many things to you. How he missed you, how breathtaking you looked, how he loved you with every single joint of his body, but a faint 'Hello.' was all he was able to get out.

Your answer was a smile, and through the haze of his happiness, he couldn't see how strained it was.

It was raining that day too, and the two of you took shelter in the library again. He didn't take his eyes off of you as you watched the courtyard through the window, unbothered by the curtains of rain falling from the sky.

Then you sat down beside him, and he reached for your hand quickly. He longed to feel the warmth of your skin again.

But you pulled your hand away and his loudly smacked against the table.

'My love?' he muttered as he lifted his head to look at you. A fiery glare greeted him, one full of hate and anger.

'God sees everything.' you said 'You will have your rightful place in Hell.'

And you turned to leave.

ANON YOUR MIND!!!!!! THIS IS SO GOOD???? GENUINELY. IVE REREAD THIS 3 TIMES NOW SDFLJSLDKF

kylar's prayers were heard, and he got what he wanted, but you will remain forever out of reach to him... do you think that's the first taste of his eternal punishment? whatever deity reached out and offered 'mercy' made it so his reason to live would want nothing to do with him anymore. ever.

he can see you, he can follow you, he can know you live, but it will be a life he will never be a part of. and if he is genuine in his desire never to kidnap you again, he will have to come to terms with this.

#degrees of the lewdity #kylar the loner #submission #long post

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sunsoothed · 3 years ago

Text

lightness

jang hanseo character study kinda fic i promised. i'm not sure if this is a character study anymore. i have no idea what this became. anyway! i wanted to explore hanseo and give him a bit of a backstory, so here it is!

*deep breath* content warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, physical abuse, blood, injury, canonical character death (not hanseo), recreational drug use, underage drug use, implied drug abuse

word count: 1866

read on ao3

hope you like it!

When Jang Hanseo is seven, he is acquainted with elder brother. Regal; nine-years-old and already hunting.

He still hides behind their father with him when he pretends to be terrified of the sound of gunfire.

Hanseo says nothing. He never brings up how his brother had thrown the bloodied rabbit and his rifle to the servant attending him, never brings up how thoroughly he washed his hands to hide the evidence of his independence from his father.

Never brings up how his brother assessed him with just a look and nothing more.

The first words Jang Hanseo’s brother says to him are as follows:

“Don’t call me hyung.”

Jang Hanseo blinks, traces his eyes over the leather of his brother’s jacket, over the blood that drips from his gloves, over the rifle he holds in his hands. He smiles.

“Okay, hyung-nim!”

A scoff, but some appraisal. Jang Hanseo doesn’t understand the half-smile he receives that autumn afternoon, but he remembers it until he beats his brother with a hockey stick, striking his head trice ‘til he’s out and his back once just for good measure, just to see the blood coming up to his mouth for him to choke on.

The first time his brother hits him, Jang Hanseo is eight. The ice rink is dark, and his brother is more geared up than he is.

Jang Hanseo misses thrice, scores once. He is rewarded with a swipe of the hockey stick on the back of his calf, and he thinks it is a game.

For that, he is rewarded with his first broken bone and a seared memory of a hand heavy on his throat. A laugh without mercy.

When Jang Hanseo is thirteen, he is offered alcohol at a party his father is hosting.

He declined, having seen first-hand what alcohol does to you, what a rage it puts his father in as he breaks porcelain, the scar he left on his mother’s cheek that lasted till the day she died.

When Jang Hanseo is fourteen, his brother kills four people. Classmates, he tells him, when he comes home with red speckled on his face. They weren’t worthy of being my classmates.

Jang Hanseo celebrates his fifteenth birthday with the diagnosis of his brother being a psychopath and accidentally tearing open the letter of a one-way ticket to the United States.

Instead of cake, he consumes his own blood, and instead of a pat on the back, he has a dislocated shoulder.

When he wakes a day later hooked to an IV, his brother is gone. The phantom of his laugh lives on, searing long into Hanseo’s conscience.

At fifteen-and-a-half, his father sends Hanseo to his grandmother’s for the summer. His father is undergoing a trial, on the charges of bribery, abetting murder, and perjury. With one son shipped off to the States and another to Jeju Island, he has no pawns he will feel ill about sacrificing. It’s not that he loves them. It’s that letting your son die because the ransom money you can very well afford would require you to take some shares out, and that’s too tedious of a process to go through.

So Jang Hanseo boards the short flight, stares out of the window for the longest one hour and fifteen minutes of his life so far. He’s never met his grandmother.

He wonders if she’s like his father, knowing she’s raised him, or if she’s worse.

She’s leagues different from anyone in his family.

Halmeoni scans him up and down when the driver drops him off at her estate. At the front door itself, she says, “We have a lot of fixing-up to do.”

It leaves an impression, that’s for sure.

The best summer of his life, Hanseo learns how to uproot weeds and catch a chicken without screaming like his life was being threatened. His halmeoni owns a farm, some 150 acres of greenery and animal and mansion.

Halmeoni teaches him first how to eat well, how to fill his plate and not feel bad about it, how to overeat and regret it. Halmeoni teaches him second that he is the most important person to himself; never his father, and not his hyung-nim.

Halmeoni teaches him third that he has no one else in the world but himself.

This, Jang Hanseo remembers the most.

(But his brother’s —)

With his brother’s absence, an anxiety sets into Hanseo’s veins so intensely that upon looking up his symptoms, he sees words like psychosis and personality disorder and promptly closes his laptop shut.

Unbidden, but not unwelcome, he remembers the rages his father fell into. He remembers the embers of gold in those small wide glasses that abeoji owned, remembers the crates of bottles that they used to have moved into the house. He also recalls the putrid smoke that used to emerge from the study. The smell of something burnt and something that made him cough so hard it alerted his father of his presence.

It’s in the boys washroom that he smells the scent again. By the open window, out curls smoke.

Jang Hanseo catches the eye of the assailant. Oh Yeonwoo will get him into this mess and then out. He will be Hanseo’s first true friend.

Jang Hanseo tries it for the first time on the terrace of the school. One joint between the two of them and nothing but heaving coughs from him until he learns how to take air after smoke and allow its natural passage back up. The joint is over by then, and Hanseo feels nothing.

Yeonwoo bumps their shoulders together, carelessly tossing the filter over the railing of the terrace. “You’ll get the hang of it,” He assures. “I didn’t even make it after a couple of joints, so you’re doing better than me already.”

Hanseo lends him a half-smile. Better than him, he thinks. When have I ever been better than anyone?

“Hanseo-yah, what’re you thinking with that scowl, hm?” Yeonwoo bumps their shoulders together again. “You’re so scary when you space out.”

“I am?”

Yeonwoo nods again. Hanseo notes something hazy in his eyes, something completely unguarded in his demeanour. He blinks cautiously.

“Hanseo-yah,” Yeonwoo whines, “Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not,” He replies. “Are —” Are you okay? Hanseo was going to ask. Stupid. Yeonwoo has settled against his shoulder now, humming some tune. He stretches his legs out in front of him and sways his feet to the rhythm. He seems better than okay.

So this is what it does, Hanseo thinks. Lightness. He wants to be light.

And so, Jang Hanseo, age sixteen, falls into something whose magnitude he cannot guess. Addiction is only the half of it. The other half had started the day Yeonwoo showed him something called shotgunning, which had taken his first kiss and his first experience with intoxication whose harm had lasted longer than its euphoria.

When he lies beside Yeonwoo, all too hot and all too cold, unable to distinguish which fingers are his when they hold hands, he finds it. The lightness. When Yeonwoo turns and exhales into his neck, prickling sweat and prickling hair to stand on edge, Hanseo smiles.

And when Hanseo wakes up, the dread in his gut is deeper than it’s ever been.

(— his brother’s —)

So it seems that boys with no family and boys with brothers who know nothing but violence and boys with a terrible, terrible blankness to them can also, by some grace of humanity, fall in love. And so it seems, as Hanseo feels the telltale thumping of his heart and lightness in his abdomen, that Yeonwoo will keep having this effect on him.

Subtlety, Yeonwoo tells him, the afternoon they sit on the roof and stare at the sky and at the smoke. Subtlety will let you get away with everything.

Subtle touches, then. Hanseo’s fingers lingering a moment too long on Yeonwoo’s arm, Hanseo’s hand firm between his shoulder blades. Subtle words, and subtle smiles, and subtle smoke between their mouths as they chase lightness.

Subtle kisses, too, when Hanseo feels he can see his own eyes in Yeonwoo’s, when Hanseo still finds the thrill of sealing his lips with Yeonwoo’s to be a minefield of his own feelings. Subtle kisses that Yeonwoo always blackens — drags them down into teeth and tongue and desire. Hanseo doesn’t know, then, that this is what differentiates them. What puts him on a curved, unshapely parabola and Yeonwoo on a straight line.

Feral, Hanseo once thinks, his gaze only slightly unclouded, as Yeonwoo bites at his lips, his neck. Feral, in the way he never kisses to coax Hanseo’s mouth open; never to cherish feeling. Only to chase after something so much deeper.

At seventeen, Jang Hanseo implodes from heartbreak.

Transfer student. Short, ebony hair, in that oh-so-timeless straight bob. He has a nice smile, even Hanseo can tell, and he has a charming walk. He’s also assigned a seat beside him. This, of all things, was the catalyst.

Yeonwoo didn’t want to kiss him anymore. Yeonwoo wanted to smoke with him, but Yeonwoo also bought a new companion along with him. Yeonwoo, it seemed, never wanted what Hanseo did. Yeonwoo, it seemed, never felt the way Hanseo did.

Hanseo knows that he knew, somewhere, beneath what his world had become, that this would not stand for long. Its foundations were, in the end, smoke.

But it does not surprise him, Hanseo thinks, seventeen and a quarter, something vile in his veins. It does not surprise him that he’s here.

His head hits, dully, the floor under him. He laughs. And he laughs some more, as the world turns from dust to sky to ocean. And he waits for the servants to find him in his father’s study.

They tell him that he’s lucky, later, in the hospital. Jang Hanseo thinks this is what death feels like, on the verge of eighteen. He states blinking at the ceiling. Hospital rooms are white on all six sides, and heaven is supposed to be white on all six sides as well. He wants to laugh, so he does.

And it hurts.

Hanseo stops laughing.

(— his brother’s laugh —)

Hanseo laughs. Ten years past, ten years perished, Hanseo laughs until his heart hurts. His brother’s heart is still beating. His blood is still warm, the three hits to his head and one to his back hadn’t kept him down. Hanseo laughs as the blood splatters on his face, sprinkled red on his chin and lips, a sprinkled red dancing in his eyes as he brings the hockey stick down, down, down.

For everything Hanseok has made him — less, more, just enough. For all these little things that had changed Hanseo more than broken bones could. For lost love. For things that weren’t, in the end, Hanseok’s fault.

Hanseo beats him till his heart stops fighting back and the blood pooled in his mouth flows quietly. Till Hanseo feels no fight left in him, and then some, till the exhaustion in him takes over.

Hanseo slumps over his brother’s dead body, and Hanseo laughs.

(But his brother’s laugh will always be louder.)

#tvn vincenzo #jang hanseo #jang hanseok #vincenzo fic #tw violence #tw abuse #tw drugs #whovie writes

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whirlybirdwhat · 4 years ago

Note

If you still do promts? How about Law getting a minor (big scare) relapse of His Amber lead problem?

I do!!!! Hope you enjoy <333

a mark of (not-quite) death

read on ao3!

Law wakes up aching.

There is a throbbing in his back, a drum of pain running up his fingers, a blurriness in the back of his head that he can’t quite name, and a weakness that shakes in his limbs as he pushes himself upward.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes. The dull light of his sub – the soft humming of the machines – it’s all already too much. He wants to go back to sleep.

Instinct tells him doing so will be his death –

Wait.

Law’s eyes flash open as his entire body starts shaking.

He hasn’t… hasn’t felt this way since he was 13 and running with Cora. He –

God.

No.

(Litanies of prayers flash through his mind, the same the nuns like to whisper over the children as they laid dying in bed. The lights of the hospital, the screams of agony, the white creeping up up up – his father shaking as he attached IV lines to his sister, the blood pooling on the streets –

No-)

It can’t be. Law got rid of it. He was the survivor. The only survivor, because of his thrice damned fruit.

His eyes look down, to where his hands are clenching the bunk he collapsed in late last night (after feeling off all day god he was a fool-), to where –

White splotches against tanned skin, spreading and rising in irregular shapes.

A relapse.

A relapse of Amber Lead Disease.

Law wants to laugh.

(Laugh, in the kind of laugh those who are about to die have. Laugh, not in the way of the indomitable D, but in the kind of way a sailor laughs in the face of a raging storm that he will not survive. Laugh, in the way that fools cry.)

Who knew it was possible?

Tears well up in his eyes as laughter chokes out past the tightening in his chest. He couldn’t die. Not yet.

Not when Doflamingo still lived.

His chest is getting tighter as he raises a shaky white splotched hand to his face, feeling the wetness there. His skin is rough, raised, god it already spread to his face?

He is going to die.

(Everything hurts.)

The world is going blurry at the edges, darkness creeping in, every limb aching and – Oh.

A sliver of thought breaks through the memories of pain and death and terror.

He needs to breathe.

Law takes a shuddering breath, pressing against his chest as if that would make his lungs work past the blinding panic in his mind.

It helps.

He takes another.

It helps more.

Another, and another, and another, until he is lying back in his too small bunk and looking up at the flickering lights.

Fuck, he thinks.

Fuck.

His eyes slip shut past the instinct ingrained in him from his days with Cora, and finally, finally, he falls back to a restless sleep.

Untellable time has passed when he finally drags himself out of bed, legs shaking beneath his weight. Kikoku is a helpful walking stick, his jeans an unhelpful hindrance, and his feet barefoot against the deck.

Bending down had hurt too much to put them on.

He makes his way, slowly, to the kitchen where most of the off-duty crew is, their chatter rising above the hum of engines and the lurching power of the sea.

Bepo –

Bepo is there.

Thank fuck.

He stumbles in and makes a bee-line towards his first mate, ignoring the cries of his crew (idiots – who told them they could care so much about him?) as he finally arrives in front of Bepo, shaking.

Bepo stares. “Captain?” His voice is soft.

Worried.

(The way it is after nightmares shake Law awake and all he can hear is the laughter of a mad tyrant echoing in his mind.)

Law stares back and carefully, carefully, slumps into Bepo’s arms.

(By the shouts of his crew, it’s not so carefully. It’s more the last legs of a starving man giving out.)

“Captain!” Bepo says, less questioning and more panicked and worried this time.

Law just shoves his face into his jacket and mumbles “I’m fine Bepo.” Half the words don’t make it out but it’s fine.

He’s fine.

Law is… Law is fine.

Shachi echoes from his right. “You don’t look fine captain.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in. “You look like death warmed over.”

(He’s not fine)

Law shudders, and shakes his head. “I feel it,” He mutters, uncharacteristically open, and then moves on as Bepo lowers them bother down to the bench. “It’ll… It’ll pass. Just need to operate, that’s all.”

He can’t see it with his face shoved into Bepo’s warmth but he just knows everyone is sharing glances over his head. Especially Shachi and Penguin and Bepo. They knew him… they knew him when he just got over Amber Lead, operating out of his skin with cries of pain and little control over his devil fruit….

And little choice to not do it.

It’s always like this out at sea – out on open waters with a black flag overhead, or the intention to be one. Life or death.

Life or death.

(For so long, Law has intended to die.)

He sighs, further, as they finally sit down, the ache in his legs easing as Bepo allows him to slump into his side. A hot mug is shoved into his hands and lifted to his lips, shakily.

Coffee.

Sweet, just how he secretly likes it. Ikkaku then, the only person who knows how to get it just right, helping him drink.

(His eyes feel so heavy.)

There’s murmuring around him. Law closes it out, to focus on how the jumpsuit is soft on his raised and rash-ridden skin.

Someone moves Kikoku away from him, and he doesn’t move an inch. The worried voices pick up again.

Soon, someone shakes him.

“Captain.”

He’s so tired.

“Captain.”

This is, essentially, the second worst thing that could possibly happen to him. The first being Doflamingo dies before Law can spit in his face and say Fuck You.

“Captain!”

He should have just operated in his room. Why didn’t he do that?

“Law!”

Oh.

He’s a captain now.

That’s him.

He pushes himself off Bepo, and blinks wearily at his crew.

“Yeah – Yes?” He tries to pour irritation into his voice, but honestly – they are a crew, no matter how often he holds them at arms lengths. They know he’s not as prickly as he seems. They have seen him half drowned, drunk out of his mind, and on fifteen to many cups of Shachi’s special coffee.

They can see him sick.

(He’s so tired.)

Penguin peers into his face, his hat tipped up so that he can meet Law’s eyes clearly with his own. “What operation?”

The words come out of him slurred and tired.

“Amber Lead,” He says, and doesn’t miss how Clione in the corner takes a step back. “It’s… not contagious…” He slumps further into Bepo. “That was all a government ruse.”

Most of them are from the North Blue. Most of them have heard the stories – of Flevance, and how it burned to the ground, how its people were exterminated, how its people were contagious and it was good for the world that their disease wasn’t spread.

Most of his crew, however, don’t know that he’s the last survivor.

A hand drifts over his cheek, tapping gently on the raised, white skin, and Law is drawn back into reality.

“’M from Flevance. Last survivor. My fruit… my fruit cured me. Had to operate.” He says, dimly remembering it. “Now its back. Gotta….” His mother would be ashamed of how his voice was drooping. Slurring. There was a patient he had to tend to. Wait. He was the patient. He was so tired and even the coffee wasn’t helping. “Operate again.”

Dimly, he remembers how he wasn’t allowed to see the adults who had Amber Lead. They were always worse off than the children once the disease reached its peak. The body, too old to defend itself. The mind, old enough to understand eminent death. To understand that you were leaving everyone behind, because of an unavoidable fate, because you were born of Flevance and its greed.

Now, Law is aching as he did when he was a child in the last stages of the disease, and he feels… distant and all too close to the fact all at once. He’s tired, but he has survived this before.

Before, he was alone.

Now, he has a crew.

(And a dream, as horrible and revenge driven as it is, to kill the one who took everything else from him.)

A crew that is slowly pulling him out of his despair and into open arms.

Bepo is muttering with Shachi and Penguin, something about how did it set in so fast? And Island conditions? And large concentrations of ore and ocean depths and battles? But all of it is fading distantly.

A hand taps his cheek and pulls the cup from his hands. He tries to follow it, but he is quickly trapped by a large, fluffy orange arm.

“Sleep, Captain.” That’s Clione, stepping closer now. “You can operate when you’re coherent.”

He wants to snap at them, snap at all of them, that he’s a man and doesn’t need to be babied, he’s done this before and he’ll do it again, and he’s a trained doctor –

(Who trained all of them-)

-so he can decide when he needs to sleep but –

Bepo’s arm is soft. Comforting. Familiar.

(He tried to find Cora’s coat after he was killed. He couldn’t. He missed the warmth of smoky black faux feathers. He had no comfort then, when he was digging into his skin with shaky powers and a stolen knife.)

Law falls to sleep, surrounded by crew, and hopes he’ll wake to see morning light.

There is none when he wakes. Instead, there is a heavy pressure on his right, crushing him, almost gently, against a large, soft, bodily shaped lump.

For a moment, with the shaking in his limbs, Law thinks he is in Flevance again, hiding amongst the bodies of his dead neighbors and friends to get a chance at life.

His heart races, before Bepo lets out a familiar snore and Shachi slaps at his cheeks.

Ah.

He’s not in Flevance.

He’s home.

(Usually, he would correct himself and say The Polar Tang. Not today. Today he is tired.)

He looks across the room. They are still in the kitchen, the crew merely moving around him instead of moving him, the idiots. The lights are dimmed, and it seems to be only Bepo and Shachi in the room. A blanket is pulled around him, and his sword leaned against the wall.

He gives a sigh. Someone had even grabbed his hat for him.

(He wants his hat. His father had given it to him. He wants his hat.)

His eyes drift, still tired, but the aching in his limbs has abated for now. It’s time to move, before he’s lost again in pain and memories.

Law pushes at Bepo and Shachi, shoving both off of him in a spur of strength, before standing up.

“Captain!” Bepo cries happily, undeterred from his harsh wake up. On the ground, Shachi rubs his head but doesn’t complain. “You’re awake! Is your head better? Is your body better? Are you okay? Do you need water? Food? Wait maybe don’t’- “

The world spins as Law stands up, but he still manages to grit out a “Bepo!” that shuts the bear up quick. He feels bad for it, but at least the questions are stopped.

“Help me to the operating room.”

Shachi gives him a look even as Law refuses to wait for them to help him across the room to grab his sword. “Are you sure you’re ready to operate?”

Law gives him a look as he grips Kikoku, Bepo helping up his other arm. “If I don’t operate now, I won’t be able to later. If I don’t operate later, I’m going to fucking die.” The clarity in this threat and his voice seems to stir Shachi into opening the doors for them to go through, Law’s feet getting heavier with every step.

“Amber Lead, huh?” Shachi questions quietly.

Law lets out a breath. “Yeah.”

“That’s what you were recovering from when we first met, right? With the white splotches?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re back now.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought they were gone forever.”

Law sighs again. “Me too,” he says, and that’s the end of the conversation. It’s silent then, as they pad through the ship to the operating room. The rest of the crew must know by now, because they don’t question it when Law limps quietly throughout the sub. They only nod, and give him worried looks.

His crew is a crew of fools.

(He wouldn’t trade them for the world.)

The operating room is already open when Law arrives.

(He can barely stand. His legs ache. He bets if he rolled up his pants, his legs would be near entirely white, the disease setting in quick. He hates this. He hates this.)

“Captain!” Penguin cheers from the corner where he is cleaning Law’s favorite sets of scalpels and has a chair set up. “Everything’s ready for when you need it! Didn’t know what exactly you needed, so I got everything that seemed reasonable.”

A part of Law softens at that, though his face hurts to twitch into smile. “Thank you, Peng,” He says, quiet, and with Bepo’s help eases himself into a chair. He sighs and gestures for the tray scalpels Penguin rolls over.

He’s practiced this kind of removal before, on albeit unwilling patients. They were thankful after, but never quite liked it when Law opened them up.

They felt no pain, thanks to the Ope-Ope fruits natural anesthetics, but removing things buried into your skin by what appears to be magical scalpels is never fun.

(It was funny to Law. He was always sadistic like that.)

He picks up a scalpel, gestures for his crew to back away, and then says, very carefully, “Room.”

His crew stares, but then the pieces come together when his eyes lock on Bepo and he says “Shambles.”

In an instant, his head is switched with the air above Bepo’s palms.

Bepo screams, only a bit, but it gives Law the perspective he needs to make this surgery.

His body is trembling before him, Law already feeling the strain from using his devil fruit. Splotches run up his arms from where his sleeves are rolled up, the hoodie dipping just a bit to reveal the splotches on his neck as well. When Law glances into the mirror on the tray, he pauses, for just a moment.

The spots make him seem… hollow. As if he were only a frame of the person he wanted to be. They fill his cheeks and nose, distorting over his forehead, like a skeleton made of flesh and empty spaces.

He looks tired.

(He always looks tired.)

He looks like death.

(A part of him laughs at that. The Surgeon of Death, looking like death warmed over? Irony at its finest.)

He blinks his eyes closed and opens them quickly. If he doesn’t act soon, he’ll be death.

He watches his arms lift in front of him, and mutters “Scan.”

His body lights up in shades of vibrant blue, making his spots glow where they are raised above the skin. Law looks closer, his fingers twirling in the air, till it is as if he can see the innermost parts of his body.

There.

The core of all his trouble, nestled right next to his lungs. A part of the Amber Lead he missed when he didn’t know that Scan was an ability he had with his fruit. A part that grew and grew and grew, and seemed to have been suddenly exacerbated by the climate of the Grand Line.

The only surprising part is that it took till now for it happen.

“Peng. Shach.” He says, straining, speaking odd when your mouth is in one area of the room and your voice box in another. “Get the infectious substance containers.”

Penguin looks alarmed. “Thought you said it wasn’t contagious?”

“Yes.” He responds. “It isn’t. But it is toxic, and this is the closest containment system we have. Get it.”

Penguin gives a snappy salute, and then he and Shachi are running out the door, leaving Bepo and Law’s disembodied head, and his body in the room.

Law sighs, neck leaning back so his head rests on Bepo’s chest. To Bepo’s merit, he only shifts his hold on Law.

A moment, and Bepo shifts his grip again so that one paw is patting Law’s head. IF his body were not so weak he would have strangled Bepo.

(It feels nice. He won’t let him know that.)

“Bepo.” He growls.

“Sorry!” Bepo yelps, but doesn’t stop dragging his fingers through Law’s hair, gentle and calm.

Law doesn’t scold him again, and instead fights the urge to sink into sleep by examining his body further.

His chest tightens when he realizes how much it had spread – all because Law didn’t bother to check up his body earlier. God.

He would have died if he didn’t have his fruit.

If Cora hadn’t…

The operating room door slamming open distracts him from his thoughts.

“We got it!” Shachi and Penguin cheer, rolling over two large glass and plastic and metal containers.

(Law new the destructions of diseases. He filched the best containment for his own ship.

Like hell he would let Flevance happen again.)

Law nods the best he can without a body, and across the room, his body raises its arms.

“Scan,” He says, one more time to be sure. When it all lights up again, he closes his eyes and breathes out.

One second.

Two.

He breathes in, and opens his eyes.

“Room,” He says, and the operating room becomes his. His eyes flash to the air inside the empty cases and –

“Shambles.”

The blue disappears from his eyes, from his body, from his face, the aches disappearing, in a snap from his skin, and into the containers already sealed shut. His fingers twitch, another muttered Shambles, and his head is securely on his body.

The world blurs in front of him.

Fuck.

He’s so tired.

So, so tired.

He lays back, melting against the chair, and doesn’t protest as Bepo lifts him up.

“You’re alright captain. You’re alright.”

As his hat is placed on his head, white splotches slowly fading from his hands in itchy waves, he honestly thinks he might be.

His eyes shut and to worried murmurs, he falls unconscious, operation over.

(His parents would be ashamed of how he didn’t check to make sure the patient was recovering right.

Wait.

He’s the patient.

Fuck.)

Law wakes without aching, without wanting to laugh, Bepo wrapped around him again and his favorite food on a tray beside him. When he looks in the mirror, only two splotches of white remain near his eyes, fading as he watches. Someone has washed his hair and scrubbed the other flakes of white on cheeks away with tender care, and a blanket is wrapped carefully around him. This time, Law doesn’t panic. This time, Law goes to goes back to sleep on purpose, smile gracing his features.

His crew is a crew of fools but fuck, if Law doesn’t love them. They keep him alive.

Law won’t die now.

Not yet.

And not from his past.

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