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nicholasdsutton · 2 years ago

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Philippa's manner towards Nicholas was touched with dignity; he hardly knew how to blend together in his mind the delicate dame and the avenging seraph. Her infantine sparkle had yet to be extinguished that night - she yielded to the effervescence of glee. She possessed different moods for different people; with him, she was affectionate, merry, and as womanly as thought and feeling could make her. For the court, she was reliant and expansive, able to shun and pursue the endeavour of appearing cold. Nicholas believed he alone called into her face a pleasurable glow, and and induced a gossamer happiness hanging in the air. The summit of earthly happiness was to love - to be loved, brought Nicholas to the end of all mortal misery. Nicholas felt her natural position was to be by his side; her eyes and ears were dedicated to him. His love had rendered him ductile in her hands, his affection and devoutness blinded his eyes sometimes - he would abandon justice to himself to the craft of marriage. Nicholas loved her now in another degree; she was more his own.

He had neither anticipated nor invoked her words, which made him shudder involuntarily. "Soft or sharp? For you I am in the habit of obeying both; it is the manner of your breathing, which shall dictate whether to stroke or meet you with force. I am painfully selfish and wish to rid myself of the affliction altogether; but I am bent to obey the mould I was cast in. I know in my heart your are mine - but to hear you tell me you love me, I am made wholly new. I lay this charge upon you like a prayer - I must be a sinner indeed." Scarce a living could be so noble and honourable as to love her. He loved her too well - too much so, to smite jealousy from his path, though a cordial word from her lips would do him good for the span of a life. Nicholas owned jealousy's severe charm - there was something so wholly good in Pippa, that she could not receive it. "My life will not be well spent if it is not dedicated to the procuring of your happiness; should the Boleyns favour my head upon a spike, I could not protest my fatal post, so long as you will think of me tenderly and fondly, every now and then." Bravery and desperation sufficed to fill the post and did the work of courage in Nicholas. He was not a man whom one would seek to send to war; but of sacrificing himself for Philippa, he made no difficulty. The restraint in their marriage had since slackened in prolonged attentions; already to Philippa's lip and cheek geniality reigned, and a wreathing, dimpling smile returned. Nicholas did not merely purport levity, nor raillery, across his aspect - his position had become more pleasurable to himself, and he spoke this augmented comfort in readier language, in tones more suave.

Nicholas' heart trembled beside her; stars merely shone subject beside Pippa, and he, with the numinous the ray of pure love, paid willing tribute. "I am no prize - but I am yours in spades, Pippa. I know what it is to call you mine, and I can only offer you the weight of unconditional love as solace." In inadequate language his feelings struggled for expression they could not get - speech was made brittle and unmalleable. She was his queen; royal for him was her lips bounty, to offer homage was both a joy and a duty. Her kiss stirred him up, running with haste and heat through his veins - recalling past hours of prolonged pleasure, and many days and nights of heart sickness. Philippa kissed him and he arbitrated her destiny; love was no oracle, but he pronounced her a diety upon Earth. This moment of tenderness was one of utmost mutiny; he took her lips once more, for one more taste of the deep spell of peace. His words caressed her ear. "Take my love. Be my dearest, first on earth." He took a delight inexpressible in pressing her to him now, his fingers brushing against those which sought to undo his buttons; she deserved candour, and from Nicholas, she always had it. "Be mine. You inquired if I shall be soft or sharp; I am a blade now, and I wish to be charged by your seamstress for the destruction of this frock."

if there ever was any hesitation to disclose how he possessed the entirety of her heart to those that inquired of her marital bliss, it was not meant to disregard the gentle manner in which he had captured the fragile, butterfly - winged beat between his hands where so many others had failed. so much about their coupling had been made public, the crown wielding great influence over her personal life after henry grey had passed by presenting her with an option that was no true choice so philippa did not think it was unreasonable to wish that the love had sparked between them remained between them ─ not even her mother and sisters were so privileged as to know the depths of her affection, how nicholas had turned her from clenched fist to out - turned glove, the softness of her insides exposed for his clever hand. she had oft wondered if he understood her reasoning, if he knew just how selfish she could be when it came to sharing the details of his devotion to her or the guilt that would twist in her belly whenever she realized that if the play for the throne dragged her down to hell, he would be dragged along with her. it was both possessiveness and protectiveness that drove her to keep him as secret as one could in a marriage, a useless hope that if the executioner called for her head, he might still be saved if no one knew that he was her greatest weakness.

❝ only after we retire ? then let us do so immediately. would you not have me now, soft or sharp, if you could, husband ? ❞ the blunted edges of her nails scratched up his arm as she spoke, the very weight of his gaze upon her face, unbroken in devoted intensity was enough to quicken the pulse and kindle a growing wave of desire in her belly. philippa swayed with the feeling, breathing the words upon his lips. ❝ you know you hold monopoly over my attention no matter who stands before me ... king or god, all men falter in your wake. you must know this. ❞ there was a hint of desperation in her tone, a beseeching whine that demanded his understanding and his acceptance of her divided attention ─ she could never be a wife to sit at his feet and rub the ache from his legs but she could give him the truest parts of her if he wished. he was her harbor in the storm, her light in the darkness, her stability in a rocking boat and she would not be without his grounding strength. the questing hand, dancing fingers and tickling nails, drifted up until she cupped his face, drawing him close with a thumb stroking his cheek. ❝ put in a kind word where you can but not at the risk of your own good standing with the king ... i could not survive if the eyes of the boleyns turned to you with anything but praise. ❞ and perhaps that was the most frightening realization of all ─ that she would condemn her sister, john and even little jack if it meant saving her husband, that she could become a monster that ate her own kin to ensure the survival of the one she loved the most.

( no one could know the depths of her heart, not even the one that had claimed it for his own. he would fear her if he knew and it would kill her to see that disgust in his eyes. )

❝ you have it ... you have me. ❞ a trembling breath was shared, her voice breaking into a whisper as she blindly reached for his fingers with one hand so that she could bring him up to where her heart laid beneath her shift, pressing the warmth of his palm against her chest. ❝ have me ... have me, darling. ❞ as light as a feather, she dropped a kiss to his mouth ─ once, twice, thrice, followed by the demand, the taunt, the challenge, the need. ❝ my soul is a tempest so make your home here. ❞ the hand on his cheek drifted south to paw at his doublet, fingers forming claws that dug into the rich fabric and tugged at the polished buttons.

#pippa

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aphroditelion · 8 years ago

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The Upstairs Room - Live Upstairs in Whelan’s, Dublin

Samantha Crain - Friday 7th April 2017

Honey Blood – Saturday 8th April 2017

I spent the last two nights Upstairs in Whelans, the more intimate of the two musical arenas in the Wexford Street venue. The musical fair on offer was quite different: on the Friday night we had Oklahoman singer-songwriter Samantha Crain with her four piece backing band and on Saturday it was Scottish indie-rocking two piece Honeyblood. The shows were quite different apart from the fact they both lapsed in the “Guinness conversation” with the crowd, almost as much of a visiting band cliché as the Irish ancestors chat but hey. I also noticed Whelan’s is now styling itself as “Dublin’s Original Live Music Venue“ which must mean there was no live music in Dublin before 1989. I’ll have to check the historical records.

Anyway back to the shows. I have to say I was a little disappointed when I got the venue on Friday to see seating in front of the stage. This inferred to me there wasn’t going to be much of a crowd. I didn’t count but there can’t have been more than 50 people at the show which must be a bit disheartening for an established touring artist on her 6 album (YouTube even tells me she played the Late Late Show in 2015!). If Samantha was disappointed she never showed it and was charming, witty and fully engaged from off, filling the silences between songs with amusing anecdotes and background info on her songs.

She, and her band (Emma on Clarinet & backing vocals, Mike on Violin, Ben on bass & backing vocals, and Sebastian on drums) played her excellent new album You Had Me At Goodbye in order. This meant the wonderfully poppy Antiseptic Greeting was up first followed by the equally perky Oh Dear Louis, though without its lofi horror movie video. After a slower Don Draperesque Loneliest Handsome Man and anti-love song Wise One she treated us to Red Sky, Blue Mountain, her first in the Choctaw language of some of her Native American ancestors. As well as the unintelligible lyrics the performance was notable for prominence of the excellent clarinet and violin. (Check out Emma Gatrill’s solo work - http://www.emmagatrill.com/)

The stories about Wichita Lineman and Will Rodgers came as thick and fast as songs they were connect to: the fuzzy bass rock of Smile When and Betty;s Eulogy. When the Roses Bloom Again was introduced as the first cover song she has released on an album. Written by Will D. Cobb in the early 20th century, she discovered via the Wilco / Billy Bragg Woodie Guthrie project Mermaid Avenue, which of course was partly recorded in Dublin. After the 10 songs from You Had Me… were done she dipped into her back catalogue for Outside Pal which has great pizzicato and swopping volion, Santa Fe replete with country-styles vocals from bass player Ben and the summery pop of Somewhere All the Time.

For an encore Samantha returned solo with Elk City, which used the same tuning as Richard Thompson’s 1952 Vincent Black Lightning and was plucking great. The band returned to finish the night with For The Miner, her tribute to the late Jason Molina. This lady deserves a bigger audience.

If Friday night was all about the folky indie pop, Saturday night brought the noise. Unfortunately I only caught the end of opening act Dott but they sounded pretty good. As they were clearing off their gear Stina and Cat from Honeyblood started getting theirs ready- there is no backstage or standing on ceremony Upstairs in Whelan’s. Without pausing for breath or saying hello, as soon as they were ready they tore straight into Justine, Misery Queen. As I had chosen to stand right up the front I was nearly deafened by the combined cacophony of Cat’s drums and Stina’s large Fender Bassbreaker Amp. Unfortunately as a result the vocals were kind of lost in the mix, a feature for much of the rest of the night.

While Honeyblood’s self-titled debut album was a decent lofi-ish indie-rock effort, it’s like everything about them was supercharged for the follow-up Babes Never Die: it rocks hard and the melodies are catchier than chlamydia. This can’t all be down to new drummer Cat Myers. A good example of this was second track Ready for the Magic which adds stop start, hand clap percussion and a noisy false ending to the euphoric chorus. Love Is A Disease was almost as engaging but they turned down the afterburners for Choker and the falsetto melody of Sister Wolf was lost in the noise.

For the longest time Stina seemed somewhat disengaged from proceeding leaving all the intersong chatter to Cat, which she managed in spades. It took about 9 or 10 songs for everything to click. A lot of this was down to Cat entreating us all to come closer and dance to blistering stomp of All Dragged Up, which seemed to wake everyone up. Even Stina smiled at the end. Sea Hearts followed. It too has an earworm of a melody sneaking between the riffs. Album title track Babes Never Die add tom-thumping drums to the catchy indie-rock mix with Cat’s backing vocals almost cutting through the noise.

Given the setup Upstairs in Whelan’s they dispensed with all pretense of an encore and instead rant through the hate-fuelled Super Rat and early single Killer Bangs which almost matches the new material in terms of power and melody. I am not sure when my ear-buzzing will subside but at least there are great melodies lodged in their too.

#Music #Live #Review #Dubliln #Whelans #Upstairs #Samantha Crain #Honeyblood #Emma Gatrill #Babes Never Die #you had me at goodbye #Wilco #Billy Bragg #Richard Thompson #dottattoo

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