#who is in his eyes a pillar of everything pure and good in the world

[juliart-107]

the fact that juanaflippa and gegg have similar-looking aboveground memorials is weirdly poetic; when juanaflippa died q! charlie lost a part of himself mentally, and when gegg died q! charlie lost a part of himself physically.

what's left? a broken (egg)shell of a man.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 017 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. angst. infidelity. manipulation. lying. defamation.

notes. we are finally at the anti-iris article drop!

wc. 11.5k

series masterlist 

[ SEVENTEEN ] i think i loved you in another life, where i was the sea, and you were the shore. like the tourist comes back to the beach, i come back to you for more and more and more.

The world outside was drenched in a relentless downpour, its heavy pit-patters mimicking the unsteady, erratic beating of your heart. The sky, a somber canvas of gray, mirrored the confusing emotions that gripped at you.

By the Gods, you thought to yourself, I actually kissed him.

You were now walking beside Kiyoomi, your footsteps muffled by the soft, wet earth. Meanwhile, Belleview Manor loomed ahead – a place you now reluctantly had to call home, its enigmatic marble pillars darkened by the rain.

The kiss still lingered on your lips. And your heart, and your mind. You’d only been kissed by Rintaro, but it’d been a hundred, if not more, breathtaking and passionate kisses.

But kissing Kiyoomi had felt different. You couldn’t fathom yet what kind of different, although it was most definitely the good kind. The softness of his lips would forever be etched in your memory. The moment, however shocking and unexpected, sparked warmth all over you amidst the cold, but one that left you more confused than before.

You’d long harbored affections for Kiyoomi, that was no secret. And who wouldn’t, truly? His quiet strength and unwavering kindness had always drawn you in. Being around him… you felt light. Like you’d morphed into an aliferous creature, and the sky was within reach. Yet, as much as you cherished that stolen kiss that you knew would forever change everything, a part of you wondered if this path you treaded in had no return – a path that was akin to the betrayal and lies you’d suffered at Rintaro’s hands.

Rain cascaded down your face, mingling with the tears you refused to shed.

You were both drenched, your clothes clinging to your bodies, and Kiyoomi’s curls plastered at his forehead. Somehow, underneath the storm, you managed to share shy, uncertain smiles.

Use me. If you need me to forget him, if that’s what it takes... then use me. I am yours.

Kiyoomi’s words echoed in your mind, a promise that hung between you like the heavy air. He’d wait for you to love him back, utterly willing to be whatever you needed him to be. A selfless declaration of devotion, a vow that was simultaneously comforting and unsettling.

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear the thought of using him, or treating him as a mere consolation for your own pain. Kiyoomi was too precious, too kind-hearted. Princely as he may be, a pure soul like him didn’t belong in the heartless walls inside the castle. Your feelings for him, admittedly, were genuine, but they were also tangled in a web of guilt and uncertainty. You didn’t want to become what you hated most – to be a reflection of the infidelity that had shattered your own marriage.

The mere thought of being an “adulterer” gnawed at your conscience, even as your own heart yearned for the solace Kiyoomi happily offered.

But is truly so wrong to want love when you needed it most?

Nearing Belleview Manor’s entrance, the warmth of the building beckoned you, a stark contrast to the deadly chill of the night. You looked up at Kiyoomi as you reached the first steps, his eyes soft and understanding, as if he knew the battle raging within you even without you saying it. He’d always been this way – a little too perceiving, a little too observant, a little too loving. There was no judgment in his gaze, only an invitation – a very tempting one – to find comfort in each other’s presence. To let love be as it is regardless of the nuances. To simply breathe in one’s air, and hold each other’s heart with the utmost trust the other would not break it.

Such was not something you could promise to him.

Finally, the manor doors opened, welcoming you into this new chapter you’d been forcibly thrust in. As you stepped inside, the confusion blanketing you never ebbed away. Here, under this roof, you would be forced to confront the delicacy of your newfound relationship – all while trying to discern what was right and what was wrong.

What was love, and what was a desperate grasp for affection in the face of betrayal?

Nothing was ever that simple. You knew you had to move forward, to make choices that would define not only yours, but the entire Kingdom’s future. In that moment, however, all you could do was take one step at a time. Your heart was too torn between the familiar embrace of pain and the tentative hope that perhaps, with Kiyoomi, you could find a new beginning. A better beginning.

Even if you knew, deep down, that if you chose this kind Prince, you would have to say goodbye to the person you loved first.

As you entered the manor’s warmth, the child of the rain faded. You exchanged brief, lingering glances with Kiyoomi – the both of you eerily aware of the unspoken tension of the kiss you’d shared. You suddenly felt too small under his gaze and the manor’s grandeur. You felt odd, like you stuck out like a sore thumb, like the Manor knew you were merely a visitor and never its owner.

The place you hoped to make your second sanctuary now felt like a stage for you to perform in, a graveyard for your deepest fears and desires.

With chattering teeth, the both of you decided to part ways, agreeing you needed to shower and dry off before you caught a cold. Silently, you watched Kiyoomi disappear down the corridor towards his room, your heart a tangled knot of emotions. You couldn’t tell if watching his figure fade away was comforting or numbing. Then, the echoes of his footsteps faded, and the deafening silence welcomed the barraging voices in your head.

You stepped into your own bathroom, stripping your drenched dress and tossing it aside. The warmth of the water pouring down on you did little to soothe the trouble in your mind.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the gravity of the situation. It was a kiss that happened in the heat of the moment, birthed from your desperate urge to soothe away his doubts that you didn’t love him. But did you? Could it be possible to have a heart so big you could love two people at the same time? And if that wasn’t the case, then did that mean your heart was so small and you had to push someone away to make space for the next?

One thought remained constant: you’d probably ruined everything.

The kiss you shared, however mutual and filled with want, loomed like a threatening shadow over your already fragile friendship with Kiyoomi. Had you finally crossed a line that could never be uncrossed? You couldn’t do undo it, and neither did you want it. And was it selfish to hope for more, to want to kiss him again, when so much was at stake?

Pressing your head against the cold tiles, you let the steam from the shower envelope you. You stood there numbly, letting the water wash away the rain and the remnants of all your darkest fears – yet the uncertainty clung to you like a second skin that was impossible to shed.

What if Kiyoomi felt the same way – that it was going too fast, that none of you had meant to kiss the other? What if your friendship was now tainted by your affections made known?

The thought of losing him, not just as a lover but as a dear friend, was unbearable.

You’d already lost Rintaro. You couldn’t lose Kiyoomi, too.

With your heart far more troubled than before, you emerged from the shower, wrapping yourself in a plush robe that smelled of the same fabric conditioner Kiyoomi used. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come next. You told yourself no matter the outcome, you’d bravely accept it.

Stepping out into the hallway, your eyes widened – stumbling back to find Kiyoomi already standing there, waiting for you outside his bedroom door. He remained a few arm’s length away, his expression sheepish. He must’ve seen it written all over your face and wanted to give you space – as if silently saying it isn’t too late. He isn’t cornering you. If you regretted the kiss – you didn’t – then you still had room to walk away, turn around, and tell him to stay where he was at. You didn’t doubt for a moment he would if you’d told him to.

His presence was a quiet reassurance, a gentle reminder that not everything was lost. Just by giving you the space you needed, without you having to ask for it, the difference is crystal clear now.

Kiyoomi isn’t Rintaro.

He looked you at with a soft smile, his eyes warm and kind. “Goodnight,” he says softly, as if afraid any louder and you would flinch from it. And his voice – deep and calming – slowly soothed the punctures to your soul. “Make yourself at home. My place is yours, too.”

A wave of relief washed over you, overwhelmingly enough that tears glossed your eyes once more. Kiyoomi’s simple, kind words held with them a promise of something more, a silent vow that your bond was not broken, merely… changing. Evolving. You’d been so afraid of things not staying what it was because you’d seen it firsthand with Rintaro – how he loved you one day, and couldn’t bear to be with you the next. But Kiyoomi isn’t Rintaro. Change with Kiyoomi didn’t have to be daunting; it could be something you embraced with open arms.

You realized that despite the torrent of your emotions, through the uncertainty and fears, there was a foundation of trust and care between you that could withstand any storm.

This is Kiyoomi, after all. When had he ever let you down? In your darkest moments, he’d ensured you were never lonely. Whenever you cried, he always offered his shoulder. And when you felt like everything had been taken away from you, he humbly offers his heart – silently pleading you would take it.

The weight on your shoulders suddenly seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” you return his smile – quietly hoping it conveyed more than words ever could.

You walked towards your room, feeling the faintest sense of tranquility settle over you – the first in what felt like an eternity. Already, being apart from the suffocating hands of the Queen made you feel like a newborn taking its first gasp of air.

Ahead you, the road was filled with ambiguities. There would undoubtedly be more challenges to face, but for now, you allowed yourself to be selfish enough to hold onto the small, precious kiss you’d shared. The memory of his gentle goodnight, the warmth of his hands against your rain-soaked skin… Kiyoomi would be your anchor. You would cling to the hope that your connection, whatever it may become, would be strong enough to weather the trials ahead.

It had to. You couldn’t say goodbye to another person.

And so you lay there in your new bed, the manor silent around you. Outside, the rain poured still, each droplet knocking against the glass panes of the windows. It kept you awake and comforted, burrowing deeper into the blankets as you watched the expanse of Inarizaki Palace beyond.

Odd, you thought, how you always dreamt of freedom, fantasized about being released from the chains of a loveless marriage every night. And here you were, offered a divorce. Rintaro had made the difficult decision for you. You stood on the precipice of that liberation you longed for, yet you found paralyzed by a new kind of fear.

Kiyoomi… with his warm eyes and huge heart, offered everything you’d craved for. He was the epitome of a fresh start, a beacon of hope in the murky waters of your past. With him, you could build a life free from all the deceit and betrayal. You could be in Itachiyama right now, riding alongside Kiyoomi with the wind whipping past your cheeks and your carefree laughter echoing in the open spaces. He was the better option, that came with no argument, but were you?

Could you truly give him the love he deserved, the life he, too, had a right to live?

Could you offer him a heart unmarred by the scars of her past, a love untainted by your lingering hurt and doubts?

That moment you ran away from Rintaro, you told yourself you were ready to let go. You could finally leave your marriage and the pain it brought you far, far behind. But now? With the revelation of your husband’s life being in grave danger, how he’s being used like a puppet to be toyed with, your resolve wavered.

Rintaro was a man you once loved, still love. Just as he was the man who had hurt you deeply. The thought of leaving him to face such dangers alone, to be burdened with the knowledge the Crown intended to utilize him like a tool, to know he was being treated inhumanely – it tugged at your heart. It wasn’t just guilt, or conscience. It was obligation. Could you truly walk away now, knowing if you abandoned him, not only would this Kingdom fall into ruins, but Rintaro would disappear, too?

The decision was impossibly cruel – to choose between protecting the one you had once loved, or to safeguard your own bruised, and battered heart.

The pull of duty and the promise of new love were forces tearing you apart to pieces. You felt tired, so tired, of this endless cycle of heartache and confusion.

All you wanted now was a moment of clarity, a sign to guide your weary soul.

You could choose to protect Rintaro, to honor the love you once shared. Or you could choose to protect your own heart, to seek solace in the arms of another. Each choice came with its own sacrifices, its own cost.

As the night wore on, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, accompanied by the quiet ticking of the clock. You knew whatever decision you made, it would shape the course of your life, defining the path you would walk from this point onward. The road to freedom and the road to duty were intertwined, and you stood at the middle of it, the harsh whispers of your past and the hopeful promises of the future converging into one, impossible feat.

And so you lay there, waiting for the dawn to break. You hoped that with the light of day, you might find the strength to make your choice, and embrace your fate. When sleep finally arrived at your doorstep, and your eyelids grew heavy, one more thought crossed your mind.

Rintaro, are you sleeping better now that she’s next to you?

After what felt like forever, the next day arrived.

The morning light stretched its fingers through the tall windows of your new chamber, its golden glow bouncing off the fabrics off your bed. The room, despite being lavishly adorned, felt oddly cold and distant – as if it knew it was a place meant for two, and a room too big for one. Stirring awake, the remnants of last night’s memories came flashing into memory. The softness of Kiyoomi’s lips, the tenderness of his smile… you sighed to yourself, eyes fluttering with a lingering sense of unease.

It wasn’t moments later when the doors to your room opened. The attendants of Belleview Manor moved silently around you, their presence an unfamiliar routine. They were efficient and precise as they tip-toed, their movements almost mechanical as they announced they were to prepare you for the day.

You sat quietly and allowed them to do as they pleased.

It was… a suffocating routine, to say the least. Not even in the main Palace halls were you ever treated like this – ushered into the bath, with two lady servants lathering soap all over your body, and another pair to dry you off. In the main Palace halls, you had more freedom to move about. You could share your bathroom with Rintaro, and even shave his day-old stubble for him. Sometimes, he’d take it upon himself to choose your lotion for you, but here in Belleview Manor, they operated differently. They moved with a clear goal in mind: to perfect the Princess of the Manor before they stepped foot outside.

Toweled and dried off, and smelling like roses half an hour later, you glanced at your reflection from the mirror. Was this how Iris’ daily life had been ever since she married into the royal family?

Although you said no word, your eyes betrayed your inner exhaustion. The weight of your responsibilities, the constant scrutiny, and the unending cycle of keeping lies had all worn you thin. The price of losing your privacy in exchange of being pampered was almost worth it. That’s how tired you were.

The servants dressed you with practiced hands, each layer of clothing a reminder of the role you were expected to play. The dusty rose dress they selected was nothing short of exquisite, but as they draped it over you, it felt more like armor than a garment. It felt heavy on your shoulders; a barrier between your true self and what you were supposed to be. The jewels they chose were also dazzling, each piece carefully selected to complement your outfit – and each one just as heavy and cold against your skin.

Throughout it all, not a single soul spoke a word. The ritualistic nature of it, the lack of personal agency even in the simplest tasks, struck you as deeply inhumane. Everyone here was detached, like dolls without their own thoughts.

Weren’t you the same?

You were a Princess now, a symbol of grace and elegance. Yet, in moments like this, you weren’t that different from a doll – meticulously adorned and presented for the world to see.

You gazed at your reflection one last time. The image staring back at you was flawless, the epitome of perfection. It’d be impossible to tell you merely wore a mask, hiding the turmoil and desperation boiling beneath. It was even harder to tell which was the heavier on your shoulders – the weight of your shoulders, today’s agenda, or the dress.

Allowing the attendants to finish their work, their hands deftly adjusted your attire, perfecting your appearance. They took one last glance, nodded at each other, and promptly left the room.

You let out a breath you’d been holding.

In front you stared back the sealed letter the attendants had brought in. It was an official order from Her Majesty regarding today’s plans – visit an orphanage sponsored by the royal family, smile and wave at everybody, look like a happily married couple, and show camaraderie with Princess Iris. A damned unfortunate event, if you were to be asked.

Nevertheless, a duty had to be performed. Kiyoomi, too, was already gone from Belleview Manor by the time you’d finished breakfast. Something about a sudden, emergency meeting with the Queen and her Council, no doubt about Iris’ pregnancy now that the sudden… relocation of spouses had caused quite a stir within the walls. You could only hope the Queen wouldn’t corner him, too.

Stepping out of Belleview Manor, you headed straight for the Palace. You were supposed to rendezvous with Rintaro there, but your husband was nowhere to be found. A kind servant led you to his study and asked you to wait there, reassuring His Highness would come around soon.

As you entered the study, you were immediately engulfed by a familiar scent – a subtle blend of sandalwood and something uniquely Rintaro. The room was an intimate reflection of him, his essence woven into every detail. Even without him in the space, you felt and saw your husband everywhere – from bookshelves lined with his favorite novels, to historical tomes of the grand, yet dark history, of Inarizaki. His desk, a sturdy piece of polished wood, bore the marks of his diligent work – stacks of paperwork lay half-done, his favorite pen perched on top as if awaiting his return.

On the desk, your eyes landed on a framed photograph of the two of you, a moment from your days of courtship frozen in time. You were both smiling, carefree – a time when laughter came easily, and the burden of the crown hadn’t touched you. Rintaro stood behind you in the photo, his arms around your waist as he pulled you flushed against his chest. He was whispering something in your ear that made you laugh, your smile perfectly captured just in time.

A pang of nostalgia hit you. You wondered… did he look at this picture and reminisced about those simpler times? He’d been so happy, youthful, and so unlike the way he was now.

It truly was hard to believe that none of it was real.

But could there have been instances where he thought of you often, as he sat here in this very room, surrounded by the things that defined him? Was there ever a time when being a Prince got too hard on him, and he leans back on his seat, exasperated, before he stares into the picture of you?

You shake the thought of it away. Before you could stop yourself, you’d already reached over the photograph and flipped the frame down.

He doesn’t need to look at us. He doesn’t need to remember it all.

Deciding to pass the time, you explore the study more closely, your fingers grazing the spines of books and the smooth surface of his desk. Eventually, you settled into his chair, finding comfort in the leather that bore the imprint of his form. As you sat, you let your eyes and hands wander at everything it would touch. Eventually, it lands on a small velvet-covered journal, bound with twine stings, tucked away in one of the desk’s drawers. Your curiosity piqued, you opened it, feeling the soft texture of the pages beneath your fingers.

What you saw was inside – you could never be prepared for it.

The journal revealed itself as a treasure trove of his most private thoughts and feelings, penned in his unmistakable handwriting. And each entry, each page, was about you. As you read, your breath hitched. Rintaro wrote of your first meetings, saying your laughter was a melody he wanted to hear endlessly, and even admitting how your beauty captivated him so completely that he sometimes forgot to listen to what you were saying.

I don’t know if love’s a feeling, he writes, everyone talks about love at first. In that case, is love not more about seeing rather than feeling? I have all these thoughts, and wonder to myself when I can say if I feel that way over her. Because if love’s a feeling, then it is with a heavy and most regretful heart that I admit that I do not feel such for her. I do not ‘feel’ for her. But I see her. I see her when she smiles, the way she throws her head back when I utter a lame attempt of humor. I look at her in her most unguarded moments, when she thinks no one is looking. I remember her sitting on her garden at the Yuzuru Estate, her book cradled in her lap, as her eyes widen and she makes tiny, little gasps at each page turned. I see her, and I see beauty. I see kindness and light within her, which makes me often wonder if I chose to pursue a lady, or a fallen angel. Today, I can’t help but think about it once more: is love a feeling, or is it seeing? Because when I look at her, I think I get a little closer to the answer.

Tears brim at your eyes. Hastily, you wipe them away, fearful that it might stain and blot the words he’d written. Your fingers grow heavy with hesitation as you turn to the next page.

The world is filled with noise I am not fond of hearing. Here in her arms, there is none of that. There is only the steady sound of her breathing, the lulling rhythm of her heartbeat. It makes me want to carve myself under her skin and remain there. I know she will hold me enclosed in her warmth, and safe from the world. But then I tell myself I am a man and I am a Prince. It is quite shameful to admit I yearn so much for her to hold me again.

You giggled despite yourself. That was true; Rintaro was quite the cuddler.

She haunts me even in my sleep. She visits me in my dreams, when the lights have been shut off and the curtains have been drawn. Her perfume sticks to my skin, and I don’t wash it off. I close my eyes and inhale her scent, wishing, praying, hoping for time to go by faster to when I can have her next to me again. It is with this thought I have come to the realization that I am greedy. She is the first thing I seek when I wake, and it is not enough. It never could be. In my dreams, she is still here next to me, and I never had to watch her walk back to her parents with each ending night.

A mix of shock and flattery consumes you. Your heart swells with emotions you’d kept at bay – all the hatred, this crumbling resolve. Rintaro had always been reserved in his own way, but here, in this pages, he was painfully honest, vulnerable, and profoundly affectionate. Was this how his mind worked when he thought no one was watching? Was this not the truth, the rawest point of one’s love bleeding like ink onto paper?

With a trembling lower lip, you dared turn onto another page. Your heart dropped when you realized it was the final entry, and Rintaro was only a few pages away from filling it up.

I am afraid. All I have ever loved eventually slips from my grasp like sand falling through fingertips. I am afraid a time will come I will love her, and she will be taken away from me. I am afraid to love and to have something to mourn. But if I do not love her, then I will lose nothing. Therefore, I should be on guard and ensure she does not steal away what I treasure most. I will not let her take my heart from me if it means she will run away with it on her person someday.

But I want to love her. By the Gods, I do.

I wish I had met her first.

His journal clutched between your hands, you bent over the desk. It was becoming difficult to breathe, your dress impossibly tighter than it was moments ago. Even your vision blurred as tears formed again.

“Is she here already?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Your head snapped up. Rintaro’s voice drifted outside the hall, sounding as if he were speaking to an older man whose words came slow and careful. Outside, you heard more footsteps, one rushed and the other angry.“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I would’ve wrapped up my meeting sooner.” It was Rintaro.

“My apologies, Sir. Her Highness said she was content to wait-”

“She’s a Princess, you fool. You don’t make a woman like her wait.”

“…Yes, Sir. I will do better next time.”

Shooting up from your seat, you make quick work of tying the twine around his journal, and shoving it back to the drawers. You had only a minute to compose yourself before the doors swung open. Rintaro entered, and the sight of him broke your heart. His hair was a disheveled mess, with dark circles lining under his eyes. He hesitated upon seeing you – standing at his desk, hands clasped behind your back, and your framed photograph facing down the table.

His lips flattened into a thin line. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to take so long,” he grumbled, his voice barely audible. “Have you been waiting a while?”

“No, I just arrived here.”

“Okay,” he nodded, more so to himself than you. “Shall we? The orphanage is waiting for us.”

As Rintaro moved further into the room, you started seeing him in a new light, remembering the words he’d written about you – his candid confessions of affection and admiration. It was so greatly different from the compliments he’d said out loud. And it was wrong, it felt wrong, having such knowledge over something he clearly didn’t want to be known. But it was getting harder to forget and ignore him now even more, not when the room was filled with his presence and embraced you. The faint scent of his cologne, the scattered papers on his desk, the photograph, the journal.

You could feel the weight of the unspoken truth between you, daring you to reach out and confront it. Your heart ached even more now that you’d glimpsed a part of him that he had kept hidden.

It must’ve been written all over your face. Rintaro approaches you, a hint of concern in his eyes as he took in the trembling of your hands. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle but probing.

You nodded, your smile softening. “Yes, just… thinking,” you replied, attempting to keep your tone light. “It must have been a stressful meeting.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was. But seeing you here makes it better.”

His words, though simple, carried a weight. You felt the stirrings of hope, a fragile thread that connected you despite the complexities of your situation.

In that moment, you realized how much you had both been holding back, how much you needed to communicate and heal. What if… he’d just said it all out loud? What if he had told you, that he did mean it, and he did harbor affection for you? It wouldn’t change anything, of course. The past couldn’t be done. His mistakes couldn’t be forgiven. You weren’t enough of a saint to wake up one day and forget everything.

But it could help you move forward – together.

He just had to tell you. I love you, and you would say it back. As quickly as that thought crossed your mind, however, a certain Prince with soft lips and genuine promises flashed in your head.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rintaro as you realized.

If Rintaro said he loved you… you wouldn’t say it back.

The soft music playing in the car does little to alleviate the tension.

Rintaro sat beside you in the back seat, a pronounced distance between the two of you. His restlessness was evident; he kept shifting in his seat, fingers lightly taping on his knee, and his gaze flickering to the window and back at you again. He knew today was such an important event, that he should’ve gotten some sleep, but it was damned near impossible. How could he when the very room he shared with you, and the bed he’d only slept in next to you once, was now overtaken by a woman whose presence he could hardly stand?

Sure, it’d been his idea. He’d practically dragged an unwilling Iris to the main Palace, all with the hopes of upsetting you – and breaking your heart further – the day you returned. Not that he’d wanted to, but he had to. It was the only way he could succeed in his plans of pushing you far away.

Looking at you now, however… He wasn’t quite sure what to feel.

You looked beautiful. Well-rested, even, as if you’d had the best sleep of your life. Even in the privacy of the vehicle, your posture is ramrod straight. Head held up high proudly. Moving with the careful elegance and grace that came naturally of being born into wealth. And he realized a a part of him loathed it – loathed how you looked… better without him. Loathed how your eyes were bright, your shoulders relaxed, as you gazed out the window and hummed to yourself.

You didn’t look heartbroken as he’d hoped. But it should make him rejoice, should it not? If there was no need to hurt you, and you would already be this detached from him…

Rintaro turned away from you. Of course, he thought to himself, Kiyoomi would’ve taken better care of you.

As you neared the orphanage, Rintaro took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day ahead. He moved to open the door when you suddenly reached out, your hand brushing his arm. He glanced at you in question, your eyes meeting briefly. A flicker of something unspoken passed between you. Apprehension, confusion – he couldn’t quite read your face. Only that you were touching him, and he flinched away from the contact. He knew that beneath those gloves, your hands were smooth and soft, unscarred and unmarred by the hardships of life. It only goes to show how you truly were worlds apart.

But today, your worlds converged into one. He had to be the Crown Prince this Kingdom looked up to, no matter how much of a false pretense it held. Today would be the first day he’d have to touch you again, to show the world how much he loved you. And he would – he’d rather the world know he adored you than you realize this for yourself.

Stepping out of the car, you were bombarded by flashing lights and the cheering hoots of your people. Rintaro ignored them all. He simply moved to your side in an instant, his hand finding its place in the curve of your arm as he helped you exit the vehicle.

A smile instantly lit up your face. Raising a hand, you waved at everyone, and he followed, though his smile was more forced than pleased. Soon, you were ushered inside the orphanage by a throng of guards.

“What?”

“What?”

“Why are you staring?” you lightly tapped his chest with your hand, frowning down at yourself. “Is there something wrong with my outfit?”

“Not at all. I was just…” Rintaro gestured down to your outfit. “You’re wearing heels and a skirt, and the pavement is rough. I was making sure you wouldn’t trip.”

“Oh.”

His eyes flickered back to yours. Your shock was unmasked; eyes wide and red-painted lips slightly pulled apart. It made him match your previous frown. You didn’t have to look too shocked that he was capable of concern, though he couldn’t blame you. He hadn’t been the greatest husband so far, and neither was he going to become one anytime soon. And as if the universe wanted to remind him of that, Iris finally appeared – rounding the corner and speaking softly with the orphanage caretakers.

Today, she wore a white, loose and flowy dress to hide her baby bump. White to signify purity, another one of the Queen’s careful schemes to fool the public. Just the sight of her was enough to make Rintaro’s stomach twist.

“Hey,” you spoke beside him, your voice small yet firm. “We will be okay. It’s all just for show.”

Right. For show. He supposed he had the Queen to thank for this public event, then, otherwise you would have no other reason to touch him and smile at him this freely.

Later, the three of you entered the orphanage, greeted with smiles and waves from the children who had all been eagerly waiting your arrival. The children sang songs they had prepared, their voices rising in a sweet, joyous chorus that filled the room with a warmth that momentarily distracted them from the harrowing truth.

Princess Iris moved gracefully among the children, her eyes lighting up in genuine delight as she shared the baked goods she had brought. Her laughter rang out, soft and melodic. She wiped cookie crumbs from the corners of their small mouths, her touch somewhat awkward yet gentle. It almost made Rintaro snicker, seeing for himself how… unaffectionate Iris was.

Across the room, you sat with a group of children, your posture far from being regal as you read stories aloud. You’d taken off your heels to sit cross-legged on the ground, your skirts puffed out underneath you. On your lap sat a little girl with pigtails as she sucked on her thumb. Each time she squealed in delight, she would thump her spit-covered fists onto your blouse – not that you minded. From the looks of it, everyone was enamored with you. He observed the children, their eyes wide with wonder, captivated not just by the tales you spun, but also your beauty.

He caught the giggles of young boys whispering in awe amongst themselves, saying it was their first time encountering a real-life princess.

Seeing everyone’s joy made him feel out of place. Desperate to not appear useless, Rintaro approached a caregiver, who was gently rocking a sleeping baby in her arms. Seeing her weariness, he offered to the take baby so she could rest. The caregiver smiled gratefully, handing over the child with a nod of thanks and reverent bow. Holding the baby in his arms, Rintaro tested out how to balance his weight in his arms before walking over to where the children were gathered around you. He sat down, positioning himself just on the periphery of the circle – close enough to hear your soothing voice as you read, yet far enough to avoid your gaze.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching you, a soft pang in his chest as he imagined a life that might have been. One where he hadn’t strayed, where your bond had remained unbroken.

In his daydreams, he envisioned the exact same family scene – you, his wife, reading stories to your firstborn, while he held your youngest, a picture of domestic bliss. There’s cookie dough smattered all over the countertops from a failed baking attempt, and the children are running around chasing each other to wipe the dough on each other’s cheeks. You would chase after them, wet wipes in hand. And Rintaro would hide in a corner, signaling to his children to come running into his arms to escape their mother’s cleaning. The house would be filled with laughter, and he would have grown old with you.

The thought filled him with a melancholic longing, a vision of happiness that felt achingly out of reach.

Looking down at the baby in his arms, a small smile was tugged at his lips. The child’s face was so innocent, so naïve. Rintaro gently caressed the baby’s cheek, the soft skin beneath his fingertips urging from him a protective desire. To have such a tiny thing in his arms, so helpless yet so trusting… it was hard to imagine he’d been like this at one point. It filled him with sadness and shame, knowing that the life he imagined could never be.

He was not a true Prince, just a puppet in the Queen’s grand design. His wife didn’t know this truth, a secret that further deepened his sense of inadequacy every time he stood next to you.

He knew, too, that if he’d never been taken away from his parents, he could’ve never had this life. You would’ve never noticed him, as he’d just be somebody far in the background, blurred and insignificant. But you would remain pristine and glorious, sitting prettily in your estate’s living room as you entertain the next lucky man whose smile you would grace with.

None of it could’ve been real. There were no hopes for in another life, or dreams of maybe in another universe. In all the universes that existed within now, you could never be his.

Rintaro felt like an imposter in his own life, undeserving the love and loyalty of someone like you – a noblewoman who had a great future ahead of her. A future that he’d ruined by marrying you. His gaze flickered towards you, finding that you’d already looked up from your book and smiled at him, and the baby in his arms. It was a gesture he couldn’t bring himself to return. He looked away quickly and focused on the baby instead, wondering if his own beginning had been as uncertain and lonely.

He’d been this innocent, once. Left behind, only to be picked up and molded into a puppet to lead a throne that wasn’t truly his.

He remained distant, physically present but emotionally removed from today’s duty. He was unable to shake the weight of his insecurities, the doubts of why he was even here in the first place. He stayed silent and held the baby close, as if the small warmth in his arms could somehow anchor him amidst the raging torrent of his regrets.

“Your Highness,” the caregiver appeared beside him, a smile on her weary, wrinkled face. “I hope our little one hasn’t been too fussy?”

“He’s a precious baby,” Rintaro reassured, swaying the baby in his arms to show he was peacefully asleep. Gently brushing his soft hair, he turned to the caregiver with a small frown. “Where are his parents? He’s too young to be alone.”

The caregiver’s crestfallen face told him this happened more often that they would like. “He was given up for adoption, Sir. His parents couldn’t afford to raise him, and they thought it was best to secure his future by… giving him up. It was the only thing they could do to give him a good life.”

Rintaro nodded, unsure of what to do with the information.

The call for snack time suddenly echoed through the orphanage, the children eagerly scampering toward the kitchen and their caretakers. Reluctantly, Rintaro had to let go of the baby. Iris had joined them, too, her lilting voice blending with the children’s. She was especially contrived today, all jovial smiles and eager agreements to anything the children wanted.

Choosing solitude over the cheerful chaos, Rintaro wandered out into the orphanage’s garden.

The garden was a carefully tended sanctuary for the children, with lush greenery and vibrant flowers that painted the landscape. Stone pathways meandered through beds of roses, lilies, and lavender, all leading to wooden benches nestled under the shade of ancient trees. The place vaguely reminded him of his first date with you, when he’d taken you into the Palace Gardens. Such a time was only two years ago, and it’d already felt like forever had passed.

With his head down, Rintaro walked, letting the serenity of the garden seep into him. The air was cool and fragrant, which he gladly inhaled with deep puffs of air.

Lost in contemplation, he failed to notice your approach until you were suddenly beside him – your presence a gentle intrusion to his momentary solitude. You’d moved so quietly, as if aware he needed this silence. Still, you were unwilling to leave him alone in his thoughts. Together, you walked alongside him down the winding paths, your steps slow and unhurried with each clack of your heel.

The world around him seemed to pause and hold its breath in anticipation.

Rintaro glanced at you from the corner of his eye, enamored with the way you carried yourself. The way your dress flowed like liquid silk with each step, and the way your constant, barely audible humming made him feel serene. There was a softness in your expression he knew he didn’t deserve – one that both comforted and pained him. And with each step you took, the garden seemed to come alive. The colors grew more vivid, the air sweeter with your rosy scent, as if nature itself responded to the sweet calls of your song.

Lilies, he remembered now. He’d once likened you to lilies – delicate and ethereal, with a beauty that was timeless. Its pure white petals and gentle fragrance had always evoked a sense of tranquility within him.

But now, gazing upon you, he realized that lilies no longer fit the enigma called you. You’d become more like a rose, with its layer of deceptively soft petals, entrapping its prey under its perilous smiles. You had the sweetest of fragrances and yet, with your thorns, served as a reminder to him of the pain that your love could bring. Gone was the serene lily of his early affections now that it was in full bloom, vibrant and strong. Gone was the delicate lady he danced with on that night. But he had you – his wife who he craved to embrace, even if it meant he’d bleed out to death.

The two of you reached a secluded corner of the garden, where a bench stood beneath a flowering arbor. You paused there, your gaze distant, yet your proximity to him felt like an unspoken promise, a silent tell how you always kept to your vow – that you would stay, and wait for him, even if he could not bring himself to reach for you.

Rintaro briefly closed his eyes, allowing himself to relish in this fleeting moment – the warmth of the sun on his skin, the scent of roses in the air. You stood there, side by side, fingers shy from brushing against each other. It was a battle of who would drop their pride and speak first, a battle that, it seemed, you would surrender to each time.

“You’re a natural with the children,” you finally speak, rocking back on your heels as you smiled at him. He didn’t like that smile – like you knew something he didn’t, like you chose to be kind to someone who didn’t deserve it.

“I like children,” was all he responds with, content to stay under the shade of the arbor.

You nodded, your gaze dropped at your feet. Beside you, he could see you fiddling with your fingers, trying to find the right thing to say. “How was uhm… your first night? With Iris staying at our – your – room, I mean.”

Rintaro raised a challenging brow. “Are we going to argue about it?”

“No, I was only curious.”

“Why do you wish to know? Are you some sort of masochist?”

You sighed in defeat. “I’m just trying to make small talk, Rintaro. You’ve been avoiding me like I carry the plague each time no one is looking.”

“Isn’t that what you would prefer? Why would I need to put up with the happily married act when there is no need?” he rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling hot under his suit. “It’s just us here. There are no cameras for you to perform in front of. You don’t ‘need’ to initiate conversation with me. There’d be no purpose.”

Your lips twitched in irritation. “Can’t a wife be curious on her husband’s well-being?”

“You can, although I would advise that you don’t.”

He can tell you were doing your best to hold back. He’s courted you long enough to expect the clenching of your fists, the heavy rise and fall of your chest. And there it was – you spin towards his way, shoving your face so close to him that he’s forced to step back. You smelled a little too nice, and he didn’t want to forget his purpose: to make you hate him.

“Why are you being so difficult, Rintaro? I just want to talk.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, I do,” you jabbed a finger at his chest. “I barely slept, if you must know. All I could think about was how… how you’re probably sleeping better now that you don’t have to be in the same room as me. How you ran away when I kissed you at my parent’s estate, how you’re always just – just running off. Like you can’t stand another second of being by my side, and I understand you don’t love me, but why do you avoid me? What have I ever done to you, Rintaro? Why do you push me away?”

Because I love you, is what he wanted to say, but he settled for the next truth instead. Clenching his jaw, Rintaro grabbed at your wrist, effectively stopping you from pushing into him again. “Because I don’t want you getting close.”

“Why? I know all your secrets already. You have nothing to hide. I’ve seen you at your worst, and I stayed, and I’m trying-”

“Trying to what?”

“Trying to make it work,” you snapped back, freeing yourself from his grip. And this was the part he hated the most, when you began sniffling and hastily wiping at your tears. It made him want to reach out for his handkerchief folded in his breast pocket. To reach over and wipe those tears away, and promise that he wouldn’t make you cry anymore. But he doesn’t – it’s a promise he couldn’t keep. He didn’t want to tell you another lie. So he lets you cry and remains his distance, watching as your lower lip wobbles, “Trying to make us work. Trying to understand why you suddenly did not want me anymore. Because I married you, and regardless of what you’ve done, I’m still your wife just as you are my husband. I don’t… I don’t want to keep hating you.”

Rintaro sighed. “It’d be best if you did There is no point trying to make our marriage work. We’re getting divorced.”

“I never agreed to that!”

“You don’t know who you married, Y/N. I told you before, and I’ll say it again,” gritting his teeth, Rintaro gave you one last glare. “This union is a mistake. And I intend to correct it, whatever means it may take.”

The remnants of your argument faded into the stillness of the garden. Silence stretched between you as he saw the pain in your eyes, the hurt you tried to mask with a forgiving smile. You’re stupid, he wants to tell you, offering him yet another chance to mend what was broken. Your kindness knew no bounds – but isn’t that why he’d chosen you? He’d known you would be soft, and now this softness soothed all his aches, serving as another reminder you gave him the kind of love he felt unworthy to receive.

With each step he takes away from you, it becomes harder to ignore the voices. The ones screaming at him to apologize, to turn back, to make things right.

How could you still be so forgiving after everything he’d done? You had given hope, made him believe, if only for the briefest moments that this marriage could be salvaged. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to bare the truth – that he was a pretender, a man with no noble blood, a nobody. The fear of you finding out, of seeing the disappointment in your eyes, was a burden too great for him to bear.

Your anger because he’d loved another? That, he could stomach.

Your disappointment over him leading you on? That, he could endure.

But he could never stand the thought of you looking down on him, or worse, pitying him for the lies he’d been led to believe. In his mind, it was much better for you to see him as the flawed prince rather than a worthless impostor. Better to let you cling to the illusion of his nobility than to destroy it with the harsh reality of his origin. Because he feared that once you knew, you would regret being with him – regretting that you’d wasted your time on a low-life like him.

And so Rintaro did what he had always done. He ran.

He ran from the truth, from the shame of confessing his deepest insecurities, from the possibility of your rejection. In the end, it wasn’t your forgiveness he feared, but the realization that he was not the man you thought he was.

The royal visit to the orphanage, much to the Queen’s delight, had been a success.

Photographs captured you and Rintaro smiling, your hands lightly touching as you interacted with the children. The press was generous with its praise on your apparent reconciliation, the headlines brimming with approval for your ‘undying love and commitment to one another.’

“The Crown Prince has never looked more in love,” they’d written, perfectly capturing the moments where his gaze never strayed far from yours, as if you were the only person in the room. Even the supposed ‘rift’ between you and Princess Iris, his ‘alleged mistress’, were dismissed as nothing but measly rumors. Your public display of holding babies and children with the already pregnant Princess shushed all whispers of a scandal.

Despite the event’s success, the troubles never left you. The ride back home was spent in utter silence as Rintaro closed himself off from the world. And when you’d arrived at the Palace, he walked back to the main hall with Iris, hand-in-hand.

That was enough to make you return to Belleview Manor.

As soon as you’d opened the doors, you were met with a crushing embrace. A small ‘oof’ came out of you when Kiyoomi swept you up in his arms, his nose buried in your neck as he mumbled ‘miss you’s’ at the crook of your neck. It’s wholly sweet, and has you weakening in the knees. Shyly, you reciprocate the embrace – your cheek on his shoulder, and your arms wrapping around the broadness of his back. He’s warm, and smells like mint. He feels like home, too, and you let him guide you back inside the manor as you exchange small talk on how the other’s day went.

The simplicity of the evening with him was comforting; Kiyoomi had prepared dinner, and brought out two glasses of wine. He’d suggested watching a movie to end the day, an attempt to escape into a world where the Crown couldn’t touch you for the next few hours.

But as the images flickered on the screen, you found yourself undeniably distracted.

Rintaro’s hidden journal weighed heavily on your mind, its paged filled with heartfelt confessions and confusing desires. That journal had revealed a side of him you’d never known, his want both startling and softening you around the edges. The realization that he had always held affections for you – even when he couldn’t realize it – made the world feel more unsteady than it already was. It was a truth that cut through the façade of your strained marriage, making you question whether you were truly ready to leave everything behind. To leave him behind.

The answer doesn’t come even as you sit beside Kiyoomi, the prince you’d kissed the night before, the one who’d shown you kindness and love when you needed it most.

The warmth of his presence at your side, the ease of your companionship – it all made your history with Rintaro seem bleak. And yet, the thought of walking away from your marriage felt like severing a part of yourself, a decision fraught with consequences you weren’t strong enough to face.

It wasn’t an easy dilemma to be caught in – the prospect of a new beginning with Kiyoomi, who cherished you, or to brave through the storm of rebuilding a life with Rintaro, who’d hidden his true feelings behind his walls of silence.

The journal had given you a glimpse into a love you thought you’d forever lost, a flicker of hope lit in the distance that perhaps you could find your way back to each other. But there was also fear – the fear of repeating the past, of making the same mistakes, of investing in a relationship that might never heal. Didn’t they say it was only fools who kept doing the same thing, over and over again, and expecting different results?

Before you realized it, the credits had begun rolling as the room fell into darkness. The prince beside you reached out, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeves. “You’re distracted.”

You winced, allowing yourself to be scooped up effortlessly in his arms. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes, painfully so,” Kiyoomi’s chest rumbles with laughter. He holds you there in his lap, one of his hands circling around your hips, and the other caressing your cheek. You lean into it, seeking his warmth, and sighing at the smoothness of his palm. “There’s something troubling you.”

“Yes…”

Leaning back against the couch, Kiyoomi offers a tender smile. “I’ve been told I’m a great listener. Comes with being a representative of two countries, I believe. You become exceptional at solving people’s problems.”

His words pull a smile from your face. Still, it isn’t easy to tell him everything, but you found yourself doing so anyway. It was hard to keep secrets around Kiyoomi. And so you recall the conversation you’d had with Her Majesty – to choose between making this marriage work, letting Rintaro become King, or doom this Kingdom by letting it all fall to ashes, or let Atsumu reign free. At the mention of the blond twin, Kiyoomi’s grip on your hips tightened, showing his silent disapproval. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about Rintaro’s origin. It was… your secret, for now. A secret that you’d kept locked away in the recesses of your heart, with the key thrown at the edge of a metaphorical cliff.

It was the one thing you’d keep from Kiyoomi.

“I think…” Kiyoomi’s brows furrow in thought, “…you should do what you think is right.”

You frown at him. He’d looked displeased the entire time you’d told him of the Queen’s desire to prevent the divorce from happening, but otherwise kept his lips sealed. “That is a very basic answer.”

He shrugged. “It’s the only right one.”

Silently agreeing with him, you decided to let it go. The two of you remained close to each other like that, your bodies naturally leaning into each other. He was close enough that you could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the steady rhythm like a lullaby to your troubled mind.

In the quiet that followed, Kiyoomi moved closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders in another tender embrace. There was a hesitancy to his movements, a shy uncertainty that belied his obvious longing. His touch was gentle, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns along your arms as if afraid you might pull you away. But you never did.

Instead, you sunk into the comfort of his embrace, finding solace in the affection he never withheld.

Kiyoomi leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin as his lips brushed against your temple. It was a chaste kiss, a question wrapped in tenderness – asking for permission in the most subtle of ways. His large hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb lightly brushing against your cheek, and you could the faint tremors in his touch.

There was a need in his eyes – a deep, unspoken yearning that mirrored your own. Yet, the respect he held was clear in his gaze, a silent plea for your consent, for you to guide him through the boundaries you had yet to define.

You felt a warm flutter in your chest for this man. It made your mind go back to your debut ball, when you’d first danced with Kiyoomi and had him as your last.

If he’d called on me then, would things be different?

You knew, without a doubt, the answer was yes. If he’d called on you, you would’ve fallen in love with him instead, and eventually got married. Perhaps now you would already have a son or a daughter wreaking havoc here in Belleview Manor. Or maybe they would be quiet and reserved like their father, choosing to rest in his lap as Kiyoomi teaches them the right pronunciation of bigger words. He would’ve been yours, and you would’ve been his.

… And Rintaro would’ve never been in the picture as anyone significant.

As Kiyoomi drew closer, you felt the warmth of his lips hovering near hers. His hand remained cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, and with that touch alone you felt a promise – a promise of gentleness, of care, of a desire that was as much about your comfort as it was about his yearning. A silent promise of I love you and It will always be you. Then, the air between you seemed to crackle, this moment shared with bated breath and unspoken confessions.

“Can I touch you?”

A small nod was all Kiyoomi needs before he’s moving.

Slowly, impossibly slowly, Kiyoomi closed the distance between you. His lips grazed yours in the barest feather-light touch, testing the waters and seeking a connection. It was a kiss that was as gentle as his touch, a delicate dance between lovers who hadn’t rehearsed their movements. But the sensation of kissing him felt like sunshine after a rainy day, like coming home when you’d been away from it for too long. He was familiar, yet new – a rediscovery of a long-forgotten comfort. You never thought that something so wrong could have felt so right.

The kiss deepened, and Kiyoomi groans into your mouth. Each touch of his lips, each gentle caress, felt like a revelation – peeling away the layers of uncertainty and revealing the undeniable, simple truth that you’d both wanted this, had thought about it more times than you’d like to admit.

Kissing Kiyoomi was like falling in love for the first time, when you’d still been unafraid and bravely jumped off – knowing he’d always be there to catch you when you did.

The kiss was sweet and unhurried, neither moving more than what was necessary because you had all the time in the world. It also held a promise of more to come, and you couldn’t wait to get there.

As you finally pulled away to catch your breath, your foreheads rested against each other. Kiyoomi’s lips are swollen and red from your passionate kiss, and he smiles – the sight beautiful enough to make your heart stutter. “I never thought I had to remind you, but if it’s any reassurance… you don’t need to worry about me. I will wait for you,” he promises, turning your wrist inward to place a kiss right at your pulse, his gaze not once leaving you. “As long as it takes, Princess. As long as it’s you.”

You reciprocate his smile and lean forward, resting your head on his chest contentedly. There, you breathe in his scent, sleepily mumbling, “I heard the Queen called you over this morning to talk about the baby… what did she say?”

You felt Kiyoomi sigh above you. “It’s just as I feared. We are to make a formal announcement soon on the pregnancy. Her Majesty hopes that if I declare we’re having a baby, it’d make our marriage look more…”

“Real?”

“It has always been real,” he corrects, and you wince at his brutal honesty. “But Her Majesty hoped it’d send across the message that it was marriage of love, I meant.”

You snorted. “Now that is unreal.”

“Very unreal.”

“I won’t let it happen,” you lift your head to shake it at him, vehemently refusing. Just… the thought of Iris parading around with Kiyoomi on her arms… it made you feel sick. “That child isn’t yours. You don’t need to take responsibility for it.”

Kiyoomi merely smiles, unaffected by this whole ordeal. “Don’t fret about it, Princess. I don’t plan on playing house with her soon, or anytime for that matter. I’m yours, remember?”

You tried not to melt at his words. “But… if duty calls, you will have to act like you’re in love with her. You’re going to go out pretending that you’re a happy family, and how you’re ecstatic about this pregnancy. I can’t watch it happen, Kiyoomi. I can’t.”

“Then would you rather Rintaro play father of the year?”

You rear back, flinching as if you’d been slapped in the face. “That is very unfair.”

“Forgive me. I was only teasing,” he reassured, his voice light yet husky as he stares at you. Desire pools in the darkness of his eyes once more, his grip around your body hardening. “I like you like this – in my home, and smelling of me. I like seeing you so… concerned over my fate,” he says, smirking at you as you laid with your legs sprawled around him. “Is it bad I am thoroughly enjoying the fact you are upset for my sake right now?”

“You are one odd man.”

“A man is never normal when he is in love.”

When night time arrives, and Kiyoomi has retired to bed, you finally make the decision to make the phone call. He answers at the third ring, and even without speaking, you could already picture the smug grin the journalist is wearing. He’d been waiting for your call for months – a call you never made at the mercy of not adding more burdens to Rintaro. But now?

Now, you had to save Kiyoomi, just as he’d save you.

“Finally made up your mind, Princess?”

“Yes, Kuroo,” you sighed, glancing at the serenity of the Inarizaki Palace at this time of the night. It wouldn’t be long before that said peace would be disrupted. “It’s time.”

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈?

In an unprecedented revelation that has sent shockwaves through the courts of Itachiyama and Inarizaki, the true identity and motives of Princess Iris Amari are called into question. Known hitherto as a paragon of virtue and a beacon of diplomacy between the two nations, the princess’s ascent from humble origins to the heights of royalty is now under scrutiny.

What hidden truths lie beneath her polished facade? Is her marriage to Prince Kiyoomi a union of love, or a calculated bid for power?

Who indeed is Princess Iris Amari?

Born to Kate Amari, a woman of modest means and erstwhile personal assistant to Lady Sakusa Kanami, the princess’ path to prominence appears less the result of serendipity and more a tale steeped in mystery and intrigue. Lady Sakusa and Kate Amari were known confidantes, their bond solidified amidst the scandals of the King’s many indiscretions. It was amidst this turmoil that Kate Amari mysteriously resigned, relocating to Inarizaki under circumstances as unclear as they were sudden.

The revelations continue to unfold as we delve deeper into the shadows of this royal narrative. Despite her close ties to the Sakusa household and her loyalty declared to the Queen, Kate Amari conspicuously absented herself from the King’s funeral, her departure raising more questions than it answered.

Could this have been an effort to obscure a more sinister involvement? Her daughter’s subsequent enrollment at the prestigious Inarizaki Private Royal Academy and her close association with Crown Prince Rintaro only add layers to this mystery.

Reports suggest that Princess Iris, far from being a passive participant, may have played a more active role in influencing the young and impressionable Crown Prince. Confidential photographs show scenes of reckless behavior: smoking, drinking, and attending unsavory gatherings. Such actions raise the question – was the princess’s influence benign, or was it a calculated effort to destabilize the Crown Prince’s future?

The clandestine marriage of Princess Iris to Prince Kiyoomi, conducted without the customary fanfare and devoid of public engagement, has further aroused suspicion. In contrast to other royal nuptials, this union was marked by an unusual degree of secrecy.

What compelled the royal couple to eschew tradition? Was there something they sought to hide from the prying eyes of the court and the public?

Despite her esteemed position, Princess Iris’s commitment to her official duties has been found wanting. Her infrequent visits to Itachiyama and reported attendance at a controversial private party, accompanied by Crown Prince Rintaro, have further tarnished her public image. These events, allegedly involving illicit substances and scandalous behavior, paint a picture of a royal figure embroiled in activities unbecoming of her station.

The most damning revelation comes from the past of Kate Amari, whose conviction for murder and was imprisoned in a foreign land casts a long shadow over her daughter’s current position. This disclosure raises grave concerns about the character and intentions of Princess Iris.

Is the royal family, revered and respected by the populace, harboring a member with such a tainted lineage within its hallowed halls?

As the public reels from these revelations, the image of Princess Iris as a figure of unity and grace is shattered. Is she merely a pawn in a larger scheme, or the mastermind behind a carefully orchestrated rise to power? The people of Inarizaki and Itachiyama, loyal subjects of the crown, now find themselves questioning the very fabric of their beloved monarchy. The presence of a murderer’s daughter – a woman implicated in deceit, adultery, and scandal – within the royal family challenges the sanctity of the throne and the trust of the nation.

The truth, long obscured, demands to be unveiled. As the court and the public alike seek answers, one question remains: What lies beneath the veneer of Princess Iris Amari, and what fate awaits the royal family in the wake of these revelations?

The eyes of the world are upon Inarizaki, and the unfolding drama promises to redefine the very nature of royalty itself.

[pieground]

The King and the Rose Portrait

Thousands of years later, visitors of the Briar Valley would see in the throne room the portrait of a lonely king and the empty throne beside his where a single rose lays.

wordcount : 728 author's note : purely self-indulgent , first time writing for Twisted Wonderland

What would you do if you woke up every morning with the knowledge that someone loves you more than anything else in the world, and then suddenly, they are gone?

It is the same torturous question that lurked in Malleus' head ever since the day you left this wonderland… the same question he wished he knew the answer to. How many years has it been? He lost count already. He couldn't even answer if it was a good thing that faes do not forget because your memories are still crystal clear in his mind. And no matter how brief they were, they always bring him to heights of joy only to wake up in a reality where you do not exist anymore.

A reality he must face for eternity.

During nighttime strolls, he would find himself far from the valley of Briar, in front of a ramshackle house that you used to live in. The pillars have already collapsed, glass shards, and termite-infested wood that were once your walls and windows were now pieces of scraps nobody even cared about cleaning up. Now that you're gone, it is once again a dead ruin, devoid of any life as if you took it along with you, leaving memories that brought him happiness and tears he couldn't even cry, knowing very well that these scattered pieces of an old and worn house are one of the few witnesses that you were there. That somehow, you existed in the same place and time as him. That a time came where Malleus wasn't truly alone.

Roses only found in Briar Valley started growing there. It was a wonder how these flowers survived on human soil, but it reminds him so much of his human who thrived on a foreign land. A reminder of his unexpected love that he never asked for but refused to let go of. No matter how much time will pass, he knows he could never feel the same. He won't let go because only when it hurts can he say that it was real. Even Lilia's words do not get through to him. Not even his grandmother who could only look at him as he sat stoically on his throne, regal as a king but lonely as he looked before his people. Once again, like a curse to whoever leads the Briar. To live long in honor and loneliness.

Many of them would stare at the throne of the Queen beside him, empty and bittersweet. All faes know about you, after all. Never once in their history has a human been engaged to a fae royalty. Some have been doubtful, but then again, some were relieved that the future king won't be leading on his own and he has a human for a queen who could help the valley build bridges rather than barriers with humankind. They've also witnessed the love you share. How the fae prince seemed to be livelier and had a pleasant smile on his face, how you listened with utter interest to his in-depth analysis of things, especially gargoyles, that not even them or his retainers could endure. They witnessed your selflessness and how he tried to repay you with the love you always gave back to him. Over time, they've grown to love you too… the Queen they never had.

The day life escaped your eyes, you took Malleus' with you.

That day, the Briar Valley was cloaked in silence, torn and cracked only by constant bolts of lightning and thunderclaps; the loudest sound, however, was his cries as his heart tore in two with nothing to ease the pain. Nothing could ever.

His beloved is gone.

How can you refill a void when everything you use to seal it will only fall into that hollow? You just can't.

It is too much real to be a fairy tale.

Thousands of years later, visitors to the Briar would see in the throne room the portrait of a lonely king. Resplendent as he sat on his throne, the king who brought the valley of faes into a new era. However mighty he is, stare carefully at his painted portrait, and you will see how devoid of life his eyes were… and too, will you see an empty throne of the Queen beside his where a single rose lays.

His love at first sight, the Queen who never was.

[geniemillies]

Yearning For Spring | Ch. 5 | Tamlin x Oc

◇— Chapter 5 - Daydreams

Ch. Warnings: the usual KoH warnings

A/n: A twinge of Hybern worldbuilding mayhaps?

✧ masterlist

<<Ch.1 <<Ch.4 ||◇|| Ch.6>>

Decades continue to pass. Then more still after I brought Velaria to Hybern.

She stayed with me though it wasn't her choice at first.. Despite all the reasons pointing for her to return home, she didn’t. She stood strong beside me, a pillar of unwavering support that kept me going when the world seemed ready to tear me apart. 

Words couldn't begin to explain how eternally grateful I am for her. Because if it wasn't for her staying I would've broke long ago.

With her insistence, I faltered and showed her everything. I realised early on that if she were to trust me I needed to be open with her and hide no secrets. So I showed her everything. I showed her the dying lands of Hybern and the territories that toiled away for the King's gain. Even going as far as taking her to the heart of my Father's Court, skillfully glamoured as my own servant, so she could see first hand the crown that controlled the island. And.. in time, I showed her the plans I'd been brewing underground. I took her to the Sidhe where centuries of my schemes accumulated, where I hid thousands of dissenters that I had supposedly captured and killed, all of them working hard to mold and shape a rebellion in my name.

A secret haven under the earth warded with magic I still don't understand to this day. Father doesn't seem to know about it's existence. The magic down there is.. erratic, seemingly ancient. While the rest of Hybern's lands are desolate and lifeless, the Sidhe is the opposite. Grass grows lushly underground and the water is pure, which is why the place is perfect for hiding the rebellion. I've long stopped questioning as to why the place is so strange and different. I've tried to search in history on the matter but I've been unsuccessful. Libraries are a rarity in Hybern and most books and tomes on history are hidden in the palace's forbidden libraries which none can enter. Not even me.

Despite the risk of trusting in magic I don't comprehend, the wards have held steadfast for centuries and many of the dark spells I've learned are weakened when used there if not entirely repelled, offering me a glimmer of hope that if my father ever discovers this sanctuary, his dark magic cannot hurt us so easily

To put it simply, it is a strange place. Nevertheless, the Sidhe is a safe haven, home to all the mercies I’ve spared, all the flaws in me that Father deeply abhorred. A second home to me besides the Lighthouse.

To say Velaria was stunned at every revelation I showed her was an understatement. As expected, she had always believed that Hybern was isolated by choice, convinced that the people of my land were pure evil, constantly scheming especially after we suffered losses in the War. It is.. a good thing that I could dispel such sinister perceptions of my people.

There was a kind of wonder in her eyes whenever I played with the children at the Lighthouse or when I showed her around the Sidhe. She told me I was.. a triumph. A flower amidst hellscape. And that I didn't deserve the life I was born into.

But she didn't pity me... I think. More often than not I see admiration in her eyes when she looks at me. 

Velaria showed me friendship like I've never experienced. I used to think I had many friends. But most of them are children who think of me as a maternal figure so Velaria deemed that they don't count, leaving me with.. less friends than I would've thought. Which is sad, sure, but Hybern isn't exactly the place to make long-lasting friends. Or any at all...

Velaria was someone I could confide in about problems greater than the occasional headache and sleeplessness I share with the children or the frustrations that come with planning military tactics with my lieutenants. She was someone I could trust to show the blight infesting my arms and the deeper burdens Father inflicts upon me.

Before her.. I never really had anyone to talk to about my troubles. My cousins, Brannagh and Dagdan, weren’t spared from Father’s ‘love’ either so one would assume they would understand what it feels like to be constantly tormented by the King. But they've grown to keep only to themselves in fear that we might read each other’s ill thoughts about him. I’d never read their thoughts lest they ask. But I understand their fears. I’ve become unmovable by Father’s side. I’ve become his most loyal pawn, his most blood-stained sword. Everyone believes so. I’ve worked hard to earn that reputation and I should be glad that I have it.

Still, I never expected it’d create such mistrust between me and my cousins that they too, would begin to fear me. That they’d think I’d ever sell their thoughts to the King in exchange for his praise. They couldn't know how often I let my gaze linger on them, searching for them in every corner of the room, desperate to ensure they were alright. Even when I was willing to take their punishments, to do anything to spare them from the wrath of the King when they did something that didn't please him, they still couldn't bring themselves to open up to me. 

I regret not attempting harder to alleviate their fears and suspicions. I should have divulged my plans and brought them into the fold of the rebellion.. But I’m ashamed to admit that I was also wary of them, that I was not spared the mistrust and fear that brewed between us daemati children. I kept my walls high and showed them only what they needed to see from me, in fear that they might find my secrets and sell me out.

By the time the rebellion was growing in number, they were already untrusting and I didn’t know how to approach them, to ask them to join me when I also couldn’t penetrate their minds. And I had no way of knowing that they wouldn't stray and betray me. I let the seeds of doubt fester too far that I deemed my only family a potential enemy. 

If I hadn't, maybe I could've protected them better. Now they're but mindless husks of their former selves, their souls beyond reach and their memories hazy and fleeting, like wisps of smoke that slip through my fingers every time I touch them. It only took one more torturous experiment to shatter them completely, for another failure on a task that Father was not happy with.

And I watched. Watched as the last spark of their souls left their bodies. What replaced it was dark magic I couldn't understand, merged into one sinister.. thing for Father to keep and shape into whatever twisted image of perfection he liked. Until they are just like him. Just as strong and cruel and… unfeeling. Obedient puppets.

Now they will not even speak to me unless necessary. They do not spare me a glance unless it's to prod into my memories. I know they're long gone at this point. Yet, my heart still aches for the days when Brannagh would reach out for my arm for support during her moments of weakness or when I would correct Dagdan's stance when we spar. Even when they push me away I cannot help but hope that there is a way to bring them back.. once this.. is all over.

And we'd all be free from him. Some day.

Velaria knows of it all. All my yearning, all my dreams and schemes. The weight of an entire country on my shoulders feels a little lighter when I share the burden with her. Velaria is the first friend I've ever made with whom I felt like I could speak freely without planning my words or worrying about keeping my mental shields up. Velaria is the first friend who made me feel like I could truly be myself without consequence, damn the masks and the glamoured hair, the titles and expectations that I long thought would be part of my existence forever.

Velaria feels like the tranquillity of a peaceful night's rest. And when she speaks about the city she's named after she's infectious with her dreams. We sit on the highest spot of the Lighthouse tower, overlooking the endless sea, our feet dangling over the edge while she tells me stories of Prythian. The more she does, the more I find myself yearning to see a glimpse of what a world like that looks like.

A world where the fog doesn't hide the light of the sun or the heaven's brilliant blue. A world where people don't live with golden shackles etched onto their wrists.. 

I long to see what living looked like. Even for just a moment..

|| Present ||

More decades passed still.

Then some more. But I never let go of the green handkerchief. It is with me now, tied around my wrist as the ashened curse continues to grow up my arm, like the roots of an ill-fated tree. The King planted it on the earth of my body and ever since.. it continued to fester. He calls upon me in his towers to this day, though not as frequently as he did when I was a child, he still does, and it still... hurts.

“Any side effects from this one?” Father asked, his voice cold and detached as I knelt on the cold stone floor, limp and tired, my vision blurred, pipes filled with bright liquid attached to my skin.

I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat as I gather my voice to speak. “It stings around the fingertips... I feel the power... crawling up my arm..” And it was. It was festering more and more and all he did was observe it like a child observing a toy work. "It burns.."

“Has your powers improved of late?” He asks as he paces around the room, a book hovering above his palm.

“I've been... using them on soldiers in training, prying out information. As you've instructed.”

“Any anomalies?”

“No..”

Father had amplified my daemati powers to an unprecedented, almost unrecognizable degree. While I could still read minds and feel the barriers of mental shields, he had altered- no, improved my powers of the mind into something different. My control over the mind can now be invoked through touch, hence the black that's tainting my arms. A perversion. Blasphemy. The Mother would churn at the sight of what I've been made into. 

Hours, days, and years I've spent on this tower while he worked to mold my powers to suit his twisted desires. I could now invade a person's emotions, thoughts, and memories through touch - without the need to break down their mental defenses.

This power isn't limited to just living things, I soon found out. When my fingers clung and clawed the stone-cold floor, I could hear the echoing screams of those who had endured torturous experiments before me. When I touched a piece of parchment, I could hear the faint whispers of the author who had written the words upon it. My senses were assaulted by a barrage of sounds and emotions, both past and present, with just a touch. To say that it drove me insane doesn't do justice to the reality. I hear everything, feel everything– so I hid the black that tainted my arms with gloves, only letting them disintegrate when I have need for my bare hands. For my own sanity.

A gift, he calls it. His gift. 

It's anything but. It’s a fucking curse.

He takes special pride in making me into what I am. He calls me a clairtangent, a.. one of a kind. His special tool. Yet, my enhanced abilities remained unstable, far from perfected. Which is why I often concealed my hands, why he continues to experiment on me, better me. I've long forgotten what my hands feel like without ancient spells forced into them. I look at them now and they're black, darker than the night sky, and infused with magic unknown to me. 

My own body is unknown to me most times. And it frightens me. More often than I’d want to admit. I’m scared of voices, of seeing things that don't belong to me. So much so that I can’t sleep because of it. They come back, the voices, my own and others, haunting me, never giving me a moment's peace. Which is why I have Manann brew me wakingdew elixir, to force my eyes open for a long time. A really.. long time.

Velaria tends to me and the wounds inflicted upon me during experimentation, away from the younger children's prying eyes. I do not wish for them to see me in such a pathetic state.. not when they look up to me.

She often tells me stories of her childhood, of her city, Velaris, the one she's named after. City of Dreams. Fitting, for someone who has many aspirations that fuel her very will to fight to see them fulfilled. She braids my hair and tells me all about the Night Court and how she wishes she could take me one day to see Starfall. I could only close my eyes and imagine what it'd look like and dream that one day... I might see it with her.

She braids my hair slowly, willing me to sleep with her stories but she already knows I do not sleep. I cannot. Not when nightmares await me on the other side of consciousness. So I sip my elixir quietly as she tells her stories, her voice proving to be just as soothing as any sleep one could take.

She tells me of Prythian, the neighboring island that I know so little of. She tells me of the Day Court, with its splendid cities and towering libraries. She tells me of the Dawn Court which she has not visited much. She said that I remind her of Dawn warriors, peregrines, with their big feathered wings, though colorful unlike mine. She tells me of the Winter Court, so bright in the morning that the light reflects the snow and blinds you. She tells me of Autumn Court, with their forests lush and orange, and in her words: “Smells like fresh afternoon rain.” She tells me of the Summer Court with its clear beaches and sandy shores. She tells me that she finds it funny that despite me living on an island, on a Lighthouse just above cliffed coasts, I do not know how to swim. And she threatens that if we ever get the chance she'd take me to Summer and throw me in the ocean to teach me how.

“Tell me about Spring..” I ask her and I feel her pause to think.

Velaria does not know that I'm mated to Tamlin. No one knows. It is the one thing I’ve kept from her. A secret that solely belongs to me.

She hums as she strokes my hair with a brush. “Spring is.. nice.” She said, “Full of.. flowers.. Lush green forests, pretty meadows. Lots of bugs though.” She chuckles. “I don't know much about the Court. But Tamlin is.. nice.” She looks down and I couldn't see her face on the mirror before me.

“He used to be friends with my brother. Though.. after everything that happened, I’d assume not any more of course.”

“Were you friends with him?”

“We spent time together when he was allowed to leave his Court to visit ours, sure. But it was Rhys who was close to Tamlin. Sometimes, he'd tell me about how he'd visit Spring without the High Lord knowing..”

“What is he like?”

Velaria thought for a while, perhaps confused. It’s the first time I'm asking her about a person and not a place.

“He's.. kind. Way kinder than his older brothers. Way kinder than his father. From what I've been told he's a great fighter. Rhys would always talk about wanting to spar with him. That is why Tamlin knew of the Illyrian camps. Rhys would take him once or twice.”

“Do you have anger towards him?” I ask. 

“I did. But now.. now I'm just conflicted..” She sighs. “You showed me what happened that night. While his father was cruel, he didn’t expect them to go so far as to actually.. kill my family. He protected me from his brothers. He begged you to take me away..”

“He did.”

“But my parents are dead either way.”

“Do you have anger towards him..?” I repeat the question. 

She looked at me through the mirror, a frown on her face. 

“I have no anger for anyone, maybe save for your father, Niamh.” She said, “Anger won’t change what happened, won't bring back the dead. And it wasn’t Tamlin’s hands that forced a blade to take my mother’s head and wings. On the contrary. It was Tamlin’s hands that trembled as he cradled my body and whispered his regrets, his apologies.”

Velaria sighs, a look of contemplation on her face while she continues to braid my hair. “And begged for you to take me to safety.”

“He killed your father.”

“And my brother killed his mother. They both suffered tragedies and let their anger and vengeance control them in those final moments before they ascended to their thrones, I have no doubt.”

“Which is a pity.” Vel looked down. “They were.. such good friends before. Rhys planned to reveal Velaris to Tamlin at one point, to show him the escape he deserved from his cruel home. Which meant he really trusted him. He must’ve felt so betrayed. I cannot imagine what went on that night you took me to Hybern, to avoid.. all that.”

She paused and tilted her head to fully look at me on the reflection. “You never really told me.. what would've happened if you stayed in Spring. If you had agreed to take on my Father's wrath. If you.. had finished the experiment they laid out for you.”

I paused for a moment to think, my hands unconsciously fidgeting. “I showed you the northern territories, didn't I?”

Velaria nods. “Yes. It's a wasteland. Nothing is left besides those who'd dare to live there.”

“Before my growing rebellion, that place used to be home to a secret league that planned to stand against the King. The villages were all in on it. Father found out and had them snuffed out.”

“Let me guess, he had you do it?”

“Yes. But I refused. Because I couldn't bring myself to wipe out an entire territory. I was still in my youth. Recklessly believing that I could defy him without being smart about it...”

My gaze falls to my hands free of their gloves. I still remember every second of that night.

“You had no choice..”

“I had no choice because he took control of my body and made me do it. When I gained back control, the territories were leveled into nothing. Just.. a huge chunk of land flattened because of what he made me unleash.”

“Niamh..” I felt her hands gripping my shoulders, their grasp firm yet comforting, like an anchor preventing me from being swept away into the currents of those memories.

“He told me that is what I should aspire to become. And that one day he will get rid of all the flaws in me that came in the way of that monster. For years he's been molding me so that I might summon that kind of power at will, without him forcing it out of me.”

“And for years, I've been suppressing it. Willing it to stay hidden. I never want to go through that again.” I never want to wake up like that again. My entire body was the same shade as the scarlet moon above me. I smelled death at every turn when he let go of my consciousness. And even when I cried and vomited on the floor of the earth, I still couldn't believe that my hands had done such atrocities.

I don't sleep just because of it. In fear that I'd open my eyes to that ever again.

“He agreed to send me to Spring in hopes that I'd be able to unleash that power. Lord Callan was curious to see it for himself and Father finally allowed himself to indulge him. Sending me like that... I don't know if I would've been successful in killing your Father. But I would've leveled Spring into nothing.”

My voice was reduced to whispers as I continued, “And I would have regretted it all my life...”

Velaria tenderly rubs my arms, attempting to soothe me. Her chin rests upon my shoulder, her gaze locked onto our reflections in the mirror, her eyes betraying a silent apology for ever bringing up the topic. I shake my head softly, offering a smile in response—letting her know silenty that none of my misfortunes were her fault..

“I cannot fault Tamlin for what happened. I know..” She mutters. “I know now how hard it is to have your life be in someone else’s control. To never be able to disobey their orders, to exist solely as a puppet, dancing to the whims of a controlling figure, even when that figure is your own father.”

She leaned back, gently resuming the braid she had momentarily stopped working on, her slender fingers deftly weaving my hair. “You two are similar in that regard.” She says, and I stop breathing for a second.

“Besides... the horrors of that night led me to meet you... So, it’s not that much of a loss, is it?”

“That is.. not a very good conclusion, Vel.”

“Meeting you is a very good conclusion. And knowing about your father's schemes to steal the Cauldron to break the wall and invade is very much.. a needed revelation to me. I told you my reasons before.”

“I know..”

“So don’t ever say that meeting you was a mistake or a waste of time. I’ll miss my parents dearly, Niamh. But I’ll forever thank the Mother for granting me a sister not a second after.”

My heart warmed at her words. “You hated me at first, I’ll remind you.”

Velaria grins. “No person could hate you. Not for long.”

“Amarantha would beg to differ.”

“I said person. People. Not the fucking she-devil herself.”

I laugh at that.

“I guess I have Tamlin to thank for handing me to you..” 

A warm smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Perhaps I ought to as well..”

There are many things I wish to tell him. So many. And yet, when I imagine him standing in front of me, words elude me. Not even a simple "hello" can find its way past my lips.

I looked to the side, remaining silent as I pondered. He must be struggling. Amarantha breathes in his neck, cornering him into submission. And yet, from what I hear, he does not falter, he does not submit to her. For that, I commend him. Admire him, even if it's from far away.

“You seem interested in him.” Velaria comments.

“I just wanted to hear your thoughts on him. He is the reason why we are where we are now..”

She hums. “He is. But you.. you look especially worried.”

I paused for a moment, finding the words to say. “You know I knew him. Way before all this. His father was allied to mine, they shared the same burning hatred for mortals. They'd attend Hybern balls and meetings. I'd see him by his father's side, tormented by his siblings, harassed by Amarantha way before she took over Prythian.”

I inhaled. “He was just a boy.”

“And that wicked female torments him still. I cannot stand it..” I mutter. “I can't even reach out to him, to comfort him and assure him that you're safe, that I've lived up to my promise. If he.. If he even remembers..” Does he even remember me?

“I'm sure he does..” Velaria reassures me, gently stroking the ends of my hair.

“And one day, when this is all over... I am sure to thank him and mention you. That by saving me, he has also given me a sister—one who is strong, kind, sweet.." She pulls back a strand of silver hair behind my ear. "–..and most beautiful.”

“When this is all over..” I close my eyes. “It is an optimistic thought.” A smile creeps on my face, a bittersweet one.

“It will be over, Niamh. And once it does.. You'll be free and I'll get to fulfill my promise and show you everything Prythian has to offer.”

“I will be counting the days, Vel..” I smiled as I felt her finish the braid, tying it with the green handkerchief Tamlin had given me.

Until then.. I will hold on to my daydreams, my small moments of joy.

     — —

A/n: They're honestly is so wholesome, can't wait to expand on them. Oh, the plans I have for Velaria 👁-👁.. Also, I will be doing more Hybern building, I'm really enjoying making up stuff for the place 👉👈

[tanjirou-no-au]

Upper Moon Hashira

Michikatsu Tsugikuni-Moon Pillar

To everyone else, Michikatsu is the ever stalwart Moon Hashira, the strongest Demon Slayer in the corp, possibly the greatest slayer in generations. If you’d ask him, he’d say you got the wrong brother.

Scion of the illustrious Tsugikuni clan, originators of the Moon Breathing style, Michikatsu grew up in the shadow of his younger twin Yoriichi, and despite his brother’s encouragement, had resigned himself to becoming Yoriichi’s Tsuguko.

Then Final Selection came, an event Michikatsu mostly missed on thanks to an injury on the first day. Yoriichi would continue on alone, slaying every demon he came across and ensuring all of that year’s candidates survived...except for him.

Given everything he ever wanted at the mere cost of his brother, Michikatsu fell into a depressive melancholy he’s never truly emerged from. Despite this, he’s stayed steadfast in his mission, hoping to one day become a shadow of the man his brother would have been had he survived.

Nakime Otokawa-Sound Pillar

Rumours abound of the Sound Pillar’s origin. Some say she’s a kunoichi who escaped under the cover of night after poisoning her clan head. Others say she was street musician, kept captive by a demon to serve as their private musician, only for her to beat them to death with a wisteria rosined shamisen. Others still say she’s a goddess, a kami put on earth to put a long overdue end to the King of Demons.

Only Nakime knows the truth of these matters, though the last story is probably pure fiction. Probably. In any case, Nakime knows the value of a good rumour, acting as the Corps’ unofficial spymaster, gathering intelligence and helping coordinate the Kasugai Crows to assemble reports on their demonic targets.

Outwardly stoic but always plucking out a pretty tune on the nearest musical instrument, her Sound Breathing lulls her foes into a sense of calm before launching into a frenzied crescendo of attacks.

A surprisingly relaxed and friendly woman once you get to know her, dedicated to preventing tragedy, and having the right music to accompany such victories.

Managi Hajime-Water Pillar

Managi had always been an outcast amongst the Swordsmith Village, a “child of water amongst of children of fire,” to quote the elders. He was a craftsman, yes, but his talents favoured pottery over metalworking, and his own fascination with swords seemed less about making them and more about swinging them around.

A chance meeting and persistent pestering of a retired Water Pillar would see him exposed to the world beyond his little village, and Managi embraced it aplomb. New trends, new art styles and new forms of expression all awaited him, from hair dye to painted nails to the flowing movements of Water Breathing.

Though admittedly more than a little vain, the Water Hashira is nothing if not dedicated to his mission, his Swordsmith upbringing and his own perfectionist streak turning him into an utterly thorough Slayer, who will see that both the demon is slain, and any victims cared for in the aftermath.

Douma-Snow Pillar

Born into a cult ruled over by a Demon, Douma’s eyes brought him to the attention of its benefactor and his promotion to messiah. He grew up a kind if...odd boy, one who genuinely desired to help his supplicants. It helped that one, a runaway bride named Kotoha, was actually quite pretty. But alas...nothing good lasts in this world

The cult eventually attracted attention from the Corps, and one botched investigation later, Douma stumbled upon his benefactor, devouring the remains of a Demon Slayer and his beloved Kotoha, with Inosuke nowhere to be seen.

In that moment, something within Douma broke, and he promptly picked up the fallen slayer’s sword, slew the demon with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, disbanded his cult and made his way to the Demon Slayers, all without dropping the small smile on his face.

Douma has proven an incredible Slayer, combining Water & Wind Breathing into Snow Breathing, a flowing, dual bladed style that rips his opponents apart with the ferocity of the arctic winds. But since that that fateful day, he has never again felt the glimmer of genuine emotion.

Perhaps it’s for the best. Emotions are fickle things...liable to get people killed. 

Hakuji Soyoma-Firework Pillar

The swordsman Hakuji humiliated did not resort to poison, instead striking a deal with a crimson eyed stranger. Hakuji himself returned not to find loved ones killed by poison, but a dead teacher and a demon, glutted on the bodies of his fellow swordsmen, looming over his beloved Koyuki.

Common wisdom states that Demons cannot be killed without the sun, wisteria, or decapitation by a Nichirin blade. Hakuji paid no attention to the common wisdom, ripping the demon apart with his bare hans, again and again until dawn rose, accompanied by the Demon Slayers.

When he awoke from his injuries to the Oyakata at his bedside, Hakuji reluctantly agreed to lend his prodigious strength to the corp. Once again paying no attention to the common wisdom, he did not take up a Nichirin sword, instead commissioning clawed gauntlets, boots, and spiked joint protectors made of the sun imbued steel.

His Firework Breathing is an invention of his own design, combining the powerful strikes of Flame Breathing with his own Soryu style martial arts, also incorporating more flowing motions to better redirect the force of Demon strikes.

Yuuji & Ume Shabana-Poison & Ribbon Pillars

Children of the gutter, the Shabana siblings’ disparate appearances and abrasive personalities won them few favours, and following a spate of disappearances, resulted in accusations of murder and cannibalism. It was only the intervention of Douma, in the area to kill the real demon, that saved them.

Indebted, they both joined the Corps, intent on repaying his kindness. But Yuuji found that a life of malnutrition left him unable to cut through the bone of demons. He would compensate with a pair of poison laced sickles, modifying Wind Breathing into his his own personal Poison Breathing.

And as a side effect of his research into poison, Yuuji has fallen into an unexpected (though hardly unwelcome!) position as a medic amongst the Corps.

But what her brother lacks in strength, Ume seems to make for, taking to her chosen Flower Breathing like a fish to water and modifying it even further, wielding a flexible whip like sword in concert with her personal ‘Ribbon Breathing’.

She has become a cheerleader among the Corps, encouraging camaraderie between her fellow Hashira and the lower ranked Slayers. Though admittedly, she is a bit of a gossip.

Kaigaku Inadama-Storm Pillar

For most of his life, Kaigaku has run from responsibility. From consequences. From what most would call ‘the right path,’. Outwardly, he might call it survival, but even he knows he’s a coward.

And no event haunts him more than the night he extinguished the wisteria incense that guarded his home temple, trading his own survival for the lives of those within.

Perhaps that is why he fights so harshly, so fiercely, an oncoming storm intent on cutting down every Demon in his path. He refuses to be a coward again, refuses to turn his back on evil and those in need of his protection. His scars are evidence of that.

Beginning his career as a Thunder Breather, he was forced to adapt as he proved unable to perform it’s primary technique. Instead he borrowed aspects of Water Breathing and others of Wind Breathing to embody the ferocity of a raging storm.

Zohakuten Hantengu-Emotion Pillar

The youngest son of avaricious minor crime lord, Zohakuten was the runt of his many brothers, mocked for his small size. Though their mocking might have saved him, driving him away the night a Demon fell upon their family.

Attacked upon his return, the young boy flew into a blind rage that saw him defeat the Demon and leave it unable to move as the sun rose. Later found wandering in a daze by a Demon Slayer investigating the attack, he was promptly taken into the custody of the corps.

Greedy, twitchy, and prone to mood swings, no one would’ve expected the boy to survive Final Selection, much less become a Pillar. But become a Pillar he did, defeating a Lower Moon within two months of the beginning of his career.

Though nominally a Flame Breath user, ‘Zo’ has begun incorporating the techniques and philosophies of other Breathing Styles into his repertoire, stitching together a hodge podge Style that Hashira Tsugikuni seems to recognize from family records...

Taisho Secrets

Nakime is the only Hashira who Michikatsu talks to without the process being like pulling teeth. Some of the Kakushi have even heard Shamisen and flute music coming from their manors on some nights...

Managi gives a pot to every person he’s managed to save from a Demon.

Contrary to popular belief, Hakuji doesn’t despise Douma. He’s brusque with everyone, and though the Snow Pillar unsettles him, he kinda feels sorry for the man.

And likewise, it’s rumoured that Douma’s friendliness towards Hakuji is a front for well hidden resentment, jealousy over being able to save his lover when Douma couldn’t.

Kaigaku has a bit of a soft spot for Zo. He sees a lot of himself in the boy, and wants to help him grow as a person.

Likewise, Michikatsu is fond of the Shabana siblings. He sees a bit of Yoriichi in Ume and sees Yuuji as a better brother than he ever was.

The Kasugai crows love all love Nakime, as she gives them snacks and sings them songs, and they’re all jealous of her personal crow.

Kanzaburou is Michikatsu’s crow here, and the only person besides Nakime he really talks to.

[squibbles-gubwee]

Hey! I cot a commission from @artsyfartsybro for a Rook x Leon oneshot and was kind enough to say i could post it!

Warnings: Cursing, mild sexual themes (No actual sex or nudity, does include grinding/sorta frottage) , talk of amputated limbs.

Without further ado:

Punch Drunk

•••••••••••

Sugary lemon lime tingled on his tongue, sparkling with hints of grapefruit. The carbonated drink fizzed against his lips, and the cold of the aluminum can felt pleasant in his warm palm. Drips of condensation slowly creeped and dripped off the drink, a few errant drops streaking up Rook's wrist.

The whole gala was dimly lit, with streamers of softly glowing and flashing lights strung up between tall pillars and high walls. The floor was a glossy wood that was flooded with yokai of all kinds, mingling, dancing, eating, laughing…

Rook's eye itched. He didn't dare rub it though.

The man instead took another sip of his soda, eyes sweeping the crowd of guests, watching the security guards posted up everywhere. He didn't get why he had to be part of everything, but he supposed if the turtles needed his help, it was the least he could do for saving the world. And honestly, he had such a hard time denying them, especially if Raph started giving the big puppy eyes.

Do not. Itch. Your eyes.

Rook blinked hard, trying to prevent messing with his contact lenses. He couldn't see better out of them, they were purely cosmetic to help him blend in with the Yokai crowd with their gold color. He needed to stay hidden amongst the various shaped bodies. He felt far too normal yet not at all. Odd one out in a sea of oddities. He hoped the kids were doing okay.

Ping!

The Aegean haired man pulled his phone out as he sipped his sparkling water. 

[You stick out like a sore thumb.]

Glaring, Rook whipped his head up and looked around before spotting Leon, snickering with a few river otter yokai, laughing as he typed something on his phone.

Ping!

[You're acting like a wallflower, get over yourself.]

Oooh ho ho ho. Rook felt his face get red as he shot a message back.

[It's not like movies, you know. I won't be ousted for leaning against a wall because I need to cool off. There's so many ppl literally doin the same.]

….He defended himself too much. Way too much.

Rolling his eyes, Rook went back to looking over the crowd. He took another sip of his drink, and thought quietly about when he should jump in the fray and start mingling more. Which he normally, y'know wouldn't HAVE to worry about, except today his leg was being particularly Bitchy. It ached something fierce, from shin to hip.

Must be a pressure system coming in.

"Excuse me. Is this wall taken?"

Rook stiffened and looked over, noting the toad yokai who just walked up. He shook his head, scooting over a bit to make more room available to the amphibious woman. "No! Sorry, I can leave-"

"No need! I just need a break. Carbuncles are always so chatty. Good fun, but I need time away from them, you know?"

Humming a noncommittal reply, Rook turned his face away, making sure to avoid showing too many features to the stranger. "Mh, yeah."

"Are you having fun at the party?"

"Huh? Yeah! Yeah, I am, I'm just, y'know. I'm waiting for a bit, having a rest before I jump in to go dancing?"

Rook gave a charming grin, masking his anxiousness. He knew how to rub elbows. He went to plenty of parties and shindigs. It was just the talking he was bad at.

…he should go get some food. Yeah, yeah that-

"Oh! You intend on dancing with your friend?"

"Hm?"

"The kappa who keeps looking your way. Is…Is he not, or…?"

You have to be fucking kidding-

Rook scrunched his nose in confusion and whipped his head around, catching Leon just as he went back to chatting up the Kawauso. Definitely caught staring. The human sighed and looked back at the toad yokai.

"He's my uh, boyfriend actually."

"And he is not with you?"

Shaking his head, the navy haired man waved her concern off. "He's chattier and knows I have issues mingling. He can do what he wants. He thinks I'm lame. Pun not intended."

The toad woman looked back and forth between the two, before puffing herself up some. "Well! How about we show him, hm? You mentioned dancing, care to join me for one?"

Rook looked up. He glanced over at Leon, showing off a slight of hand trick that had several of the otters gasping and a few itachi nearby to stare in awe.

"Mustelids, tch…you can totally see the card."

Rook turned red and looked back at the toad once more. "Ah, sorry I…Well, I'm down, just be mindful of my leg-"

"Great!! Come on, there's a song with a good beat on!"

And soon he was whisked away, led like a stray dog right into the den of lions. The toad had taken his drink, putting it on a table and dragging him away. Swallowing nervously, Rook allowed himself to be pulled along, the toad's grip firm and eager as she led him onto the coloured floor.

This was a trap. This was a trap and you were so fucking stupid. She knows. She SO knows you're human and she is going to reveal it right now, or get security to throw you out. Or better yet? In fucking yokai jail. Yeah. Yeah good for you you jeopardized the whole mission and-

They were dancing.

Rook blinked as he continued to box step, finding the music and movements wholly taking him as he flowed through dance moves and step routines he remembered from years passed.

Right, left, twist, left, right, twist, right back, left back, left forward, right forward, Left, Right, left, right.

…Rook grinned, grabbing slightly webbed hands, and the toad woman squealed and croaked a laugh as he spun her into a rumba, mindful not to crush any toes with his prosthetic foot. The music was quick, so he kept his pace up, weaving steps through the lit tile dancefloor.

He was having a blast. Teasingly, he sashayed his hips some and the yokai laughed before taking a dramatic pose and pulling out all the stops. They two danced chaotically, playfully, freely.

Leon couldn't help but stare.

His hand clenched. Unclenched. His eyes bore into the two, entirely disregarding the group of kawauso he had been entertaining. One whined as she tried to grab his attention, wanting to see another trick. 

"Dude, just like, go talk to him already. You've been eyeing him all night. Live your shitty high school prom romance movie moment."

Leon whipped his head back around, laughing and waving the woman off. "No, no, it's fine! It's all good-"

"Oh no," a particularly dark-furred otter hummed. "You got it bad. What, is he your friend you never told you liked him? You've been texting him all night-"

"He's my boyfriend," the terrapin huffed.

The gravelly bark of a laugh came from the yokai. "You haven't been acting like it. You might go cut in before that Ōgama can get her warty hands on him!"

Leon frowned, his muzzle scrunched some. He wasn't…worried about something like that, but… well, the two were drawing attention. He and Rook were supposed to keep a low profile.

Steeling himself, the red-eared slider slipped away to the dancefloor, slinking between bodies in search of the human. Once close enough, he fell into rhythm and easily gravitated closer, before sidling up close to the two. 

"Mind if I cut in, guapo?"

Rook's eyes narrowed.

Yes. Yes he did mind. Leon didn't get to just… just decide when Rook was having a nice time that he could now cut in. Not when he wouldn't be near the man earlier, claiming that he was going to "cramp his style".

Please. Rook didn't need him.

The toad woman chuckled, and Rook felt her loosen her grip, only for the man to squish her hands and lead her into a tango, ignoring Leon. His shoulder was cold to the lowest degree, and it left the amphibious reptile in shock as the two danced away. He swore he saw Rook turn his nose up and away, even, as he spun the bewildered toad out and back in. 

Oh.

Really now? That was how the therapist was going to act?

Glaring, he watched Rook dance for some time more, the human commanding the room with how he moved on the floor. He had to admit, Donatello did great work on the prosthesis. It seemed to really help, and it was quite flexible.

However, after two, three more songs…

Rook stumbled. Figuratively and literally. Leon caught him wincing and at one point, Leon feared his knee was giving out as he awkwardly caught himself from falling, playing it off like a dip.

Leon brushed past several people, and this time cut in by simply grabbing the human's hands.

"Sorry miss, but I need to steal my boyfriend."

"Like hell you do."

"Oh! Here you are, have fun!"

Oooh, the look the mutant got as the amphibian ran off was utterly livid.

"Can I help you?"

The mutant ignored the petulant tone and slowed their steps, swirling here, there, flowing and weaving to the edge of the crowd. At one point, there was a soft gasp from the human and he stumbled again, so he was swept up and spun, until the two of them were off the dancefloor and the Hamato was dragging him down a hall.

"Let- dammit, Leon! This is getting more attention! Let go-"

Rook was slammed against a wall, teeth clacking, and the terrapin had him trapped between an arm and a corner.

"What the fuck was that, hm?"

"What, you weren't doing me any favors. I made a friend and went to have fun."

Green thumb and forefinger flicked him in his head. "Fucker. I'm talking about the attitude- we're on a mission! You, and that stunt, got a lot of attention."

The human rolled his faux gold eyes. "I'm sorry, is the mutant turtle from the apocalypse telling me what parties are like? Leon, no one actually cares. In fact, even if I had eyes on me, they're not going to assume it's suspicious to actively seek out the limelight. It's a party. YOU acted suspicious when you stole me away like that. It wasn't- you just leave! You don't try to ease out all sneaky like that. That was weird!"

"Mm, yeah. That. Don't think I didn't catch what was happening." The medic glared. "You were also overdoing it. You needed to stop if your prosthesis was hurting that bad."

Rook became red. "It- it wasn't my prosthesis-"

"REALLY? Because I watched you almost fall into a group of fire spirits. I bet they would so listen to whatever fucking excuse you have."

"Leon-"

A thick finger pressed to his sternum. "If you can't take this mission seriously, you shouldn't be here. Not only are you pulling some petty shit back there, but not taking care of yourself is a pretty big no-no. You should have stopped the moment your prosthesis started fucking hurting. But no! No, you had to go do this prideful 'I don't need you telling me what to do' shit! You nearly compromised us! You could have caused the whole mission to fold!" Huffing, the mutant crossed his arms. "What, if it was me are you going to act like you wouldn't jump down my throat?!"

"No! Yes?! Leon, it's fine-"

"No! No it's not! You could damage the port! Or your nerves! You could have caused irreparable damage, you know this!! So why did you think it was okay?!"

"BECAUSE IT WASN'T THE FUCKING MISSING ONE, ITS THE STILL HERE ONE THATS HURTING!!"

Leon stared quietly, but Rook barreled ahead, fire licking in his eyes. 

"I'M SORRY I DIDN'T STOP HAVING A FUN TIME! SORRY I ENJOYED MYSELF DOING MY FAVORITE FUCKING THING. WHEN AM I EVER GOING TO DANCE LIKE THIS AGAIN?! NEVER!"

Under normal circumstances, Rook would probably be emotional and start crying, but he was just too heated right now that they wouldn't come. Instead, a sticky, muggy anger clung to his skin and refused to let go.

His leg was shot for the rest of the night, but he didn't care.

"I-"

"NO! NO, IT'S MY TURN. You wouldn't listen so I won't either! I get it. You don't want to hang out with me because I cramp your style or whatever. But you don't get to be mad at me when I have fun!"

"When it hurts-"

"IT ALWAYS FUCKING HURTS! IT JUST SOMETIMES HURTS LESS THAN NORMAL!" Rook hated screaming. He hated it so much. "I have more metal in my stupid fucking flesh and blood leg than the prosthesis. It hurts. Always! And if I let that keep me in bed, I'd be riddled with sores and wounds. I will not quit doing stuff I love because it hurts me."

"There's a balance!" Leon chided, cupping his face and staring into those glossy aurum eyes. "You can't overstrain yourself, you know thi-"

 "I WOULD RATHER DANCE TIL THIS PINS AND RODS PIECE OF SHIT ROTS THAN BE MISERABLE," Rook howled, cold fire in his lungs and salt in his eyes. "I REFUSE TO LAY AWAKE AT NIGHT, WISHING I HAD ONE MORE DANCE, ONE MORE TIME TO HAVE FUN, ONE MORE-"

Leon smashed his mouth against the other, and despite the few hits to the plastron or arm, he kept kissing. Teeth scraped and clashed, and Rook was all fury as he kissed back. Nails scraped against the back of the mutant's head and shoulders, making him churr deep in his chest. Rook slotted a knee between his legs, and Leon couldn't help but grind against it.

The two broke away in heavy, hot breaths.

"You're insufferable," hissed Rook.

"Bite me."

Leon yelped and moaned as the human dud just that, teeth sinking into the meat of his neck juncture. The two then began angrily making out once more, tongues swiping at one another between bites and nips to lips and jaws.

"The contacts are pretty, but I much prefer your real eyes."

"Oh, please."

"Pft, don't you know? I've been wanting to do this all fucking night." Leon growled, voice husky and a bit gravelly. A three-fingered hand slipped down the back of Rook's slacks and palmed his ass. "Just drag you into a hall or closet, have you all to myself and-"

The two flinched as Leon's phone beeped loudly. The ninja pulled the device out and answered, only-

"WE ARE TRYING TO DO A RECONNAISSANCE MISSION, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?!" Donatello screeched, making them flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, Leon could see a camera not far away, pointed right at them.

Oh boyyy…

The adults both winced, Leon shifting his collar to hide a bite mark and Rook looking away, face red.

"Ah, 'Tello! Uh, we were-"

"QUIT DRY HUMPING YOUR BOYFRIEND AND GET BACK TO WORK, NARDS!!"

Nothing more was said, and the call ended. Quickly, their clothing was sorted out and fixed. Rook stared down.

The duo shuffled out of the hallway, keeping a foot's distance between each other. Neither one would look at the other, and Leon watched as Rook limped to the tables to have a seat, successfully cowed.

Right. 

Back to work.

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 169

Secret

Meaning something kept hidden from the knowledge or view of others, sir (secret) is a spiritual faculty deposited in the heart as a Divine trust. As a Divine trust, it has the same significance for the heart as spirit has for the body. Will-power, the mind, feelings, and the heart are the four pillars of the conscience and human conscious nature-these are called “the heavenly faculties”–that are given by the Lord in the same way that a secret is a faculty and dimension of the heart. Each of the pillars of conscience has a function and goal particular to it with respect to the relationship between the Lord and His servants. Will-power is charged with submission and devotion to the Lord, the mind with acquiring the necessary information to know God, the feelings with love of God, and the heart with a vision of God’s “Face.” As for secret, it is open to and innately charged with discovering Divine secrets.

All creation has been brought into existence by the Power of the Necessarily Existent One. This gives rise to a relationship between the Creator as Lord (One Who sustains, brings up, and protects the creation and administers life) and the creation, the things and beings, of which He is Lord. This relation contains secrets that are concerned with God’s Lordship and which are called the “secrets of Lordship.” Lordship manifests itself, first of all, in the heart: the seekers feel this manifestation developing as they learn more about Him and in a deeper manner, until the point where they experience the concentrated manifestation of the Divine Names in themselves and see the whole of creation, including themselves, as consisting only in the manifestation of those Names. Finally, they obtain the pleasure of witnessing the Lord in everything with all His Names. This witnessing opens to them the door of some Divine secrets called the “secrets of manifestation.”

Some have interpreted secret as meaning a heart that is purified of all carnal vices and stains caused by attachment to anything else other than the Lord, and which has a clear relationship with the world of spirit.

Based on the verse (11:31), God knows the best whatever is in their inner worlds, we can describe a secret as being a pure bosom full of loyalty and faithfulness, open to Prophetic messages, and preferring God and the other world to all else. We can regard secret in this sense as being the heart at the level of secret.

Some have viewed the qualities mentioned here as the reasons or means of a secret’s rising in the heart. When God prepares a heart to have these qualities, endowing it with the possibility and opportunity of accepting religion, the acceptance of God’s Existence and Oneness, the confirmation of the afterlife, and the affirmation of the Prophets, the heart immediately uses this possibility and opportunity and tries to achieve the goals that can be achieved through secret. In other words, since God knows that such a heart will use this Divine trust-secret-in the best way possible, out of His special grace, He causes it to flourish. For it is He Himself Who declares (6:53): Does God not know best who are the thankful?

Such a pure, elevated heart or its owner are indicated sometimes by, Surely God loves a servant who is pious, indifferent to all save Him, and has unknown depths,[1] and sometimes by, How many servants there are, whose hair is untidy, and who are repulsed from doors, and denied respect and attention, but if they swear by God for something, God does not prove them to be untrue.[2]

In view of the above explanations, the people of secret can be divided into three classes:

The people of truth whose eyes do not see any save God, and who always pursue His good pleasure and know how to resist the carnal self. Their aims, for which they make every effort, are so sublime that they cannot be prevented by any worldly desire, and are so pure that they are in accord with the Divine commandments, and their lives are ordered to gain eternal happiness. The ways they follow are free of any doubt, and they are always aware of God’s purpose in any of their acts, even for a millisecond. They avoid fame and any distinction, knowing that servanthood to God is the aim of their existence; they value it above all worldly and other worldly considerations. Their daily lives are described in the following verse (24:36-37): In houses which God has allowed to be exalted and in which His Name is mentioned: therein are men who glorify Him in the morning and evening and whom neither trade nor buying prevents from mention of God and establishing the Prayer and paying the prescribed Alms; who fear a day when hearts and eyes will be over-turned.

The faithful souls who try to hide from others their degree of relationship with God and their rank with Him: they keep the Divine gifts granted to them concealed from others, as if they were guarding their chastity, and although each is a star in the heaven of sainthood, they all try to appear as if they were but fireflies. Though each is a dove striving on God’s way, they prefer to appear like magpies, knowing themselves to be nothing, even when they are declared in the heavens to be so holy as to be among the worthiest in the sight of God. In serving on God’s way, they are extra-ordinarily active, dynamic and humble, although they outstrip all others; they are altruistic and disinterested when it is their turn to receive wages; they have no expectations in this world. They are described in the following verse (5:54): A people whom He loves, and who love Him, and who are most humble towards the believers, and dignified and commanding in the face of the unbelievers, continuously striving in God’s way in solidarity, and fearing not the censure of anyone to censure them.

When they are alone with God in devotion, they are extra-ordinarily profound, while being exceptionally wise and successful in worldly affairs. They are remarkably careful and determined when guarding the honor of their community, and they hold themselves as aloof as possible from mean acts which may bring disgrace upon them or may cause others to feel suspicious.

The heroes have reached the summit of perfection under the care and protection of the All-Preserving and with the help of the All-Helping: they do not spend even a moment without Him, and use every event, thought and consideration as a means to mention Him. Self-annihilated in His company, they live unaware of themselves. Whatever good they do for others and whatever service they render on God’s way, they conceal it, not only from others, but also from themselves. Even if they sometimes feel some pride in themselves, they regard this as if it were a terrible affliction and immediately try to escape. They spend their lives amidst ecstasy and exhilaration, and rejoice in the Divine compliments, and in His special help and perfect care. These heroes are unknown among people and remain hid-den, enveloped by secrets, although they are God’s favorites and among the most vital elements of existence. God, the Truth, looks at things with their eyes and the universe is fed with the pure water of their secrets.

O God! Help us with mentioning You, and being thankful to You, and worshipping You properly.

And may Your blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad, the master of those who regularly worship God in the best way possible and with sincerity, and on his family and all of His Companions. [1] Al-Muslim, “Zuhd,” 11. [2] Al-Muslim, “Birr,” 138; Al-Tirmidhi, “Manaqib,” 54.

[jimothy-g-brooks]

Fictional Quotes I Made Up

"I am fat, clumsy and I barely know how to hold this sword. I am shaking in my knees and right about to piss myself. I am the last person that should be here and yet here I am. 

 "And if I'm willing to stand up to you, bastard, who else do you think will?"

~

"I have a steel rod shoved through my sternum. I am still standing. 

"Who amongst you has it in them to fuck with me?"

~

"You want to know my story? Alright, well... One day, I became angry. 

"I have not stopped."

~

"You stabbed me. I'm trying to patch you up and you stabbed me. You're not a very good person, are you? 

"... Well, you didn't stab me well enough, so hold still, I'm not done stitching you up."

~

"And you killed her because she was being mean to you?" 

"No, I killed her because she and her gang had been murdering and robbing helpless schmucks and were right about to murder a child over a rare animal. 

"I took great pleasure in killing her because she was mean to me."

~

"I understood that my friends and I had stopped many Ends. We stopped these Ends before they could begin. But I also knew this World was marked with Ends that had to be stopped in the middle, Ends that just petered out and lost steam, and Ends that only ended right before it took everything else with it. And afterwards, the World had to pick itself back up and start over from the Beginning."

~

"You may ask, 'Why call yourself the Second Greatest Lover?' Because there was a contest, it was official, with judges. Any man can call himself the Greatest Lover, any man can pull out a disc of polished brass and call it gold. Only a real competitor can show you his silver."

~

"That was for Thomas Wilkins, the driver, who I couldn't save.

"That was for Alice Wilkins, his widow, who still had leftovers of their wedding cake. 

 "And this? This, I imagine, is going to be for a lot of other people, so we're going to be here for a while."

~

"I said they were incompetent, not that they weren't dangerous. They're probably going to kill us and still bungle whatever they're after. Probably the same thing we're after, so we'll be dead and it will bungled."

~

"Your doubts were wrong, but you were not wrong to doubt."

~

"I didn't ask. I already knew everything I needed to know about that place. Enough to get in, hurt everything I wanted to hurt, grab (rescue) everyone I wanted to grab, plus extra, and get back out."

~

"He didn't go mad with power. He went mad with worry." 

 "What was he worried about then?" 

"All that power, mostly."

~

"I trust very easily. Everyone who's ever betrayed me, I killed immediately. That means, everyone who is left is trustworthy."

~

"They looked into the Abyss and the Abyss stared back. When they refused to blink, the Abyss stabbed syringes into their eyes and injected crazy straight into their brain. 

 "You believed yourself strong enough of will and integrity to withstand the Abyss? Fuck you and go mad."

~

“I came to the maddening realization that everyone is an asshole, except me. And therefore, anything I do to them is morally justified because they are assholes and I am not.”

~

"Yes, I kill them. Quickly, painlessly, without making them wait in dread. What are you going to do? Put them in jail for the rest of their lives so they waste away slowly? Put them on death row so they spend all of their last drawn-out moment in terror? 

"I give mercy. One last mercy."

~

"It's all fun and games."

"Until someone gets hurt?"

"Well yes, I suppose after that the best part's over, isn't it?"

~

"I ain't gonna tell nobody how they can exit the world. 

"Unless they piss me off, then I tell them very directly how they can exit the world."

~

"So, what's that pillar of purple smokey looking light coming out of the ground there?" 

"That's a pillar of pure Darkness, blacker than the black night sky."

"Oh yeah, I guess it kinda feels like it's supposed to be dark and stuff but then, uh, why is it purple?"

"Everyone knows purple is more black than black."

"Oh yeah, that checks out."

~

"Unfortunately, because the building partially sits on a half-formed rift with a fairy tale like realm, the bathroom doesn't exist until somebody owns the place. Also, it keeps changing places. Upside is, as the owner, you'll always know where that place is."

~

"My older brother always stood up for me when creeps got too close to me. Most of them were weak and cowards, but my brother stepped up to one who wasn't and now he's dead and that creep did whatever he wanted. 

"So I got really good and I got really strong and one day I got the jump on that creep that killed my brother. As he laid dying, he told me, 'That's the thing, I got to do whatever I wanted because I was stronger and I could kill them if they tried to stop me. Now it's your turn to whatever you want.'

"And you know what? He was right. I'm gonna do whatever I want. And I wanna help people who ain't got no help, get people out of trouble who don't deserve it and stop sleazy creeps who think they can do whatever they want because no one will try and stop them. 

"And if anyone tries to stop me? I'll kill 'em."

~

"You might realize I have a somewhat morally complicated past. At some point, you see, I realized I was on the wrong side and that I was one of the bad guys."

"And that's when you defected and joined up with us?"

"Oh. Oh no no no. That's when I decided to double, triple and quadruple down and said 'Fuck it'. I was already mid-atrocity when I realized, 'Oh wait, this is an atrocity,' and purposefully, mindfully abandoned the moral code I thought all my comrades had instead of just doing it accidentally because I didn't know better.

"It took a while longer after that for me to realize I didn't have to play this game but by then I'd already 'Fucked it' down a pretty deep hole and was pretty fucked. But now I'm here helping you guys out! Think you can help me out?"

"Ah. Um.”

~

1 "I'm going to defeat you with the power of this idiot." 

2 "Hi there!" 

3 "Exactly how dumb is he?"

1 "Incredibly."

2 "It's nice to meet you, sir!"

3 "Oh god."

~

"I know you, one has become a monster because monstrous things have been done to you. Evil was poured into you and evil was all that could be poured out. 

"And I know you as well, one who was born a monster and never given a choice at all. Fate denied you the capacity to feel love or empathy at all. 

"It's okay, I understand. I know these things very well and you are by no means uniquely wicked. It's not your fault, you poor, lost creatures. It's no one's fault. 

"Ssshhh, don't struggle. I don't want it to hurt. Just close your eyes, it will be like going to sleep. I hope your dreams are sweet, even if everyone else says you deserve nightmares. I hope that, when you wake up, it's in a happier life with a more complete mind, that you'll smile and spread smiles around you.

"It's alright, it's alright. You are so full of hurt, so full of pain, but now it's all going stop. I absolve you of your pain and your hurt. I absolve you of your sin. I forgive you. Even if all the men of Earth and all the angels of Heaven do not, I forgive you.

"Go now and be at peace, lost children."

~

"Hear me, little angel. The world is empty and dark and cruel, there is no meaning to it, no morality, save that which we give it. Out there, there is nothing and you will find nothing. Do not wait for answers from gods in Heaven, you will find only silence. You want a god to worship, then look at me, look at your friends around you, look at the people on street, look into the mirror. The answers have always been within you or well within your reach or just a walk away. 

"Hear me, little godling. You, me, they, we are the fire that burn in the darkness. We are all there is, we are all that matters. If you want to believe in something, believe in the things you see and seek their exaltation. You want to worship, then take this, the world in front of you, and raise it far above all your imagined Heavens. You want immortality in Paradise, then leave your mark on a bettered world that will never be forgotten."

~

"Myself and a dozen others were stranded deep in the wilderness, far away from civilization. To survive, we all banded together, a sensible decision. 

"I got into a dispute with one man and he attacked me, so I killed him. It was self-defense, everyone agreed, somewhat nervously. Then, his lover tried to avenge him, so I killed her too.

"Now it seems I had defended myself two too many times. One man petitioned I be removed from the group and left to fend for myself in the wilderness, a death sentence.

"After two incidents, everyone was quite emotional and it seemed he was making good headway in his cause. My life was threatened, so I killed him as well and made it clear I would not let myself be left to die.

"Someone else decided I was too great a threat to their safety and tried to kill me in my sleep. I killed them. The remaining survivors were now well and truly emotional, but I felt my actions had been quite reasonable.

"They disagreed, they tried to leave me on my own as I slept and find a new shelter without me. Again, this was tantamount to killing me, so I moved to defend myself.

"I tracked them down and I killed two more. I made it clear by this point to all that were left that I would allow them to survive if they allowed me to survive. A very fair and equal trade, I would think. 

"Why am I the bad guy?"

[irreverent-dobermans]

In Breeding Dogs: Judi Elford- Vanderbilt Samoyeds

In Breeding purebred dogs, I have come to learn a few interesting phenomena that seem to defy conventional wisdom, and one of the most interesting of these is breeding from a wallflower or mediocre individual who represents a truly great/rock star pedigree.

Understanding how to milk that pedigree for its bits of gold by coaxing the great genes out of a dog with an unremarkable phenotype is one of the most important strategies in the smart breeder's toolbox.

Now I have listened and learned well about selection pressure being everything in breeding good dogs. That we should ALWAYS breed from only the best individuals. That we should not let the pedigree wag the dog. And I have obeyed, Usually. 

However, on a number of occasions I've had the opportunity and indeed felt the impetus, to do otherwise.

In one case I was able to breed to an ok/average (and heretofore unused) Champion male who had a world beater litter sister (who I of course was not able to breed to). The quality from this dog was surprisingly high to onlookers but the take away here was that he produced more like the "family" than like himself. 

In years to follow I was actually able to obtain a son of his great sister when she came to me for a stud service, and from that point I was able to line breed on this stellar pedigree and it remains a very important part of our genetics today. Would I have bred to that average male if I had not seen or known of his incredible sister?  Absolutely not - as his own qualities were not such to attract the attention of anyone looking for a stud dog.  And yet today he stands as a strong pillar in my pedigrees.

In another case, I was a bit forced to breed from an average quality bitch (I'll call her BELLE) of my own breeding, if I wanted to carry her fantastic pedigree forward. Belle was the best bitch of only 2 girls in a litter from 2 outstanding parents – I’ll call them Johnny and Mary.

Mary was already a top producer, Champion in 3 countries, and World Winner with several top producing littermates. Mary and siblings were from a pedigree of pure gold - with their dam perhaps the best bitch I had ever seen. Their sire was the then the top producing male in US breed history. The kind of pedigree that launches breeding programs into stardom overnight. Belle's sire Johnny, was a stunning young male who was making some phenomenal puppies in his first litters, and he was sired by one of my own dogs, but bringing in a new pedigree piece on his dam's side that I much desired.

Mary had to make the trip to the USA west coast for this mating to Johnny. A little side story here ... while Mary was at the stud dog owners place, there was a slip up and someone put her in with the wrong boy. The mistake was quickly discovered and no mating was witnessed, but we still had to do DNA on the 8 resulting puppies.  In the end all was well and the puppies were sired by the originally contracted Johnny. The litter had several nice boys, but I knew I desperately need a daughter from this pedigree combination as it was Mary's last litter. 

The problem was that neither of the 2 girls in the litter really rang my bells. One was cute and outgoing, but finer boned and just an average mover that I knew would finish easily. The other bitch (who became BELLE) had a very plain head with an atypical eye set, a tail curled too tight, and very much a wallflower temperament, but she moved like nobody’s business. 

We never showed Belle as she didn't have the temperament to be a show dog even if the judge could get past her unremarkable head and faulty tail. For the sire of her first litter, we picked one of our own young boys with a super confident temperment, a super head and tail from a background strong in all of these traits. Belle gave us 8 puppies in that litter - ALL better than her, and in that litter, I was fortunate to get a bitch and a dog with all of Belle's great movement, with super personalities, heads and good tails. 

Now I've always placed a high priority on soundness and movement in our breeding program and learned from my mentors that the "frills" were far easier to come by, than good legs. Still it's hard for me to keep a dog for breeding that doesn't scream the beautiful type that I've worked hard to get and keep. In Belle's case however, it was easily overcome. AND I got to keep her incredible pedigree/ancestors in my lines by overlooking her flaws for one generation. If I hadn't been an experienced breeder willing to roll the dice, Belle likely would have been passed over as an appropriate brood bitch. As a novice breeder seeking advice from friends I likely would have been advised to look for a better bitch to breed from. But, because I knew what was behind her pedigree in her and KNEW THAT SHE'D LIKELY PRODUCE MORE LIKE HER ROYAL FAMILY THAN HERSELF, I took the chance and it paid off in spades. 

Belle is now expecting her second litter (with a different but equally suitable stud), and we're excited. While I will continue to breed the best to the best 99% of the time, it remains that there are cases where it's ok to breed from dogs that aren't the big show winners - and in fact with a little knowledge, you can unlock some of the best genes out there by breeding from them. Breeding from an average dog from an average pedigree is decidedly NOT the way to go. This is where having a knowledgeable breed mentor is EVERYTHING and your KEY to success!

Judi Elford Vanderbilt Samoyeds

[wisdomrays]

SIR (Secret)

Meaning something kept hidden from the knowledge or view of others, sir (secret) is a spiritual faculty deposited in the heart as a Divine trust. As a Divine trust, it has the same significance for the heart as spirit has for the body. Will-power, the mind, feelings, and the heart are the four pillars of the conscience and human conscious nature-these are called "the heavenly faculties"-that are given by the Lord in the same way that a secret is a faculty and dimension of the heart. Each of the pillars of conscience has a function and goal particular to it with respect to the relationship between the Lord and His servants. Will-power is charged with submission and devotion to the Lord, the mind with acquiring the necessary information to know God, the feelings with love of God, and the heart with a vision of God's "Face." As for secret, it is open to and innately charged with discovering Divine secrets.

All creation has been brought into existence by the Power of the Necessarily Existent One. This gives rise to a relationship between the Creator as Lord (One Who sustains, brings up, and protects the creation and administers life) and the creation, the things and beings, of which He is Lord. This relation contains secrets that are concerned with God's Lordship and which are called the "secrets of Lordship." Lordship manifests itself, first of all, in the heart: the seekers feel this manifestation developing as they learn more about Him and in a deeper manner, until the point where they experience the concentrated manifestation of the Divine Names in themselves and see the whole of creation, including themselves, as consisting only in the manifestation of those Names. Finally, they obtain the pleasure of witnessing the Lord in everything with all His Names. This witnessing opens to them the door of some Divine secrets called the "secrets of manifestation."

Some have interpreted secret as meaning a heart that is purified of all carnal vices and stains caused by attachment to anything else other than the Lord, and which has a clear relationship with the world of spirit.

Based on the verse (11:31), God knows the best whatever is in their inner worlds, we can describe a secret as being a pure bosom full of loyalty and faithfulness, open to Prophetic messages, and preferring God and the other world to all else. We can regard secret in this sense as being the heart at the level of secret.

Some have viewed the qualities mentioned here as the reasons or means of a secret's rising in the heart. When God prepares a heart to have these qualities, endowing it with the possibility and opportunity of accepting religion, the acceptance of God's Existence and Oneness, the confirmation of the afterlife, and the affirmation of the Prophets, the heart immediately uses this possibility and opportunity and tries to achieve the goals that can be achieved through secret. In other words, since God knows that such a heart will use this Divine trust-secret-in the best way possible, out of His special grace, He causes it to flourish. For it is He Himself Who declares (6:53): Does God not know best who are the thankful?

Such a pure, elevated heart or its owner are indicated sometimes by, Surely God loves a servant who is pious, indifferent to all save Him, and has unknown depths, and sometimes by, How many servants there are, whose hair is untidy, and who are repulsed from doors, and denied respect and attention, but if they swear by God for something, God does not prove them to be untrue.

In view of the above explanations, the people of secret can be divided into three classes:

The people of truth whose eyes do not see any save God, and who always pursue His good pleasure and know how to resist the carnal self. Their aims, for which they make every effort, are so sublime that they cannot be prevented by any worldly desire, and are so pure that they are in accord with the Divine commandments, and their lives are ordered to gain eternal happiness. The ways they follow are free of any doubt, and they are always aware of God's purpose in any of their acts, even for a millisecond. They avoid fame and any distinction, knowing that servanthood to God is the aim of their existence; they value it above all worldly and other worldly considerations. Their daily lives are described in the following verse (24:36-37):

In houses which God has allowed to be exalted and in which His Name is mentioned: therein are men who glorify Him in the morning and evening and whom neither trade nor buying prevents from mention of God and establishing the Prayer and paying the prescribed Alms; who fear a day when hearts and eyes will be over-turned.

The faithful souls who try to hide from others their degree of relationship with God and their rank with Him: they keep the Divine gifts granted to them concealed from others, as if they were guarding their chastity, and although each is a star in the heaven of sainthood, they all try to appear as if they were but fireflies. Though each is a dove striving on God's way, they prefer to appear like magpies, knowing themselves to be nothing, even when they are declared in the heavens to be so holy as to be among the worthiest in the sight of God. In serving on God's way, they are extra-ordinarily active, dynamic and humble, although they outstrip all others; they are altruistic and disinterested when it is their turn to receive wages; they have no expectations in this world. They are described in the following verse (5:54):

A people whom He loves, and who love Him, and who are most humble towards the believers, and dignified and commanding in the face of the unbelievers, continuously striving in God's way in solidarity, and fearing not the censure of anyone to censure them.

When they are alone with God in devotion, they are extra-ordinarily profound, while being exceptionally wise and successful in worldly affairs. They are remarkably careful and determined when guarding the honor of their community, and they hold themselves as aloof as possible from mean acts which may bring disgrace upon them or may cause others to feel suspicious.

The heroes have reached the summit of perfection under the care and protection of the All-Preserving and with the help of the All-Helping: they do not spend even a moment without Him, and use every event, thought and consideration as a means to mention Him. Self-annihilated in His company, they live unaware of themselves. Whatever good they do for others and whatever service they render on God's way, they conceal it, not only from others, but also from themselves. Even if they sometimes feel some pride in themselves, they regard this as if it were a terrible affliction and immediately try to escape. They spend their lives amidst ecstasy and exhilaration, and rejoice in the Divine compliments, and in His special help and perfect care.

These heroes are unknown among people and remain hid-den, enveloped by secrets, although they are God's favorites and among the most vital elements of existence. God, the Truth, looks at things with their eyes and the universe is fed with the pure water of their secrets.

O God! Help us with mentioning You, and being thankful to You, and worshipping You properly.

And may Your blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad, the master of those who regularly worship God in the best way possible and with sincerity, and on his family and all of His Companions.

[harmonyhealinghub]

Journey into Motherhood Shaina Tranquilino August 7, 2024

Rebecca had always been a planner. She thrived on organization and predictability, crafting her life meticulously around schedules and lists. But as she stood in the softly lit nursery, the pastel colours soothing yet foreign, she realized that nothing could have prepared her for this moment.

The room was ready. The crib, adorned with a mobile of delicate stars and moons, stood against the wall. Shelves lined with books and stuffed animals added a touch of whimsy. But it was the rocking chair, nestled by the window with a view of the blooming garden outside, that called to her.

Rebecca lowered herself into the chair, her hands instinctively cradling her swollen belly. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It was a mix of excitement and apprehension, an intoxicating blend of joy and fear. The tiny life growing inside her was both a miracle and a mystery.

In the quiet of the room, she thought back to the day she and David had discovered they were expecting. It had been an ordinary Tuesday, marked by an extraordinary revelation. They had laughed, cried, and held each other in stunned silence, their future suddenly unfurling in a thousand new directions.

David had been a pillar of support throughout her pregnancy, his calm demeanour balancing her moments of anxiety. They attended every appointment together, read every book, and decorated the nursery with care. Yet, as the due date approached, Rebecca felt the weight of impending motherhood pressing down on her.

"Will I be a good mother?" she had asked David one night, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness.

"You already are," he had replied, his hand resting on her belly, feeling the gentle kicks of their unborn child.

Now, sitting alone in the nursery, Rebecca let those words wash over her. She already was a mother. She had nurtured this life, protected it, and loved it fiercely even before meeting the tiny person who would soon change her world forever.

A sudden movement broke her reverie. A sharp kick, followed by a series of rhythmic rolls, made her laugh. "Alright, little one," she murmured, her hand tracing the movements. "I get it. You're ready to meet us too."

That night, as she lay in bed, the first contractions began. Soft at first, then growing in intensity, each one a reminder that the moment they had waited for was finally here. David was by her side in an instant, his presence a soothing balm against the waves of pain.

The hours blurred together, a whirlwind of hospital lights and reassuring voices. Rebecca clung to David's hand, his steady gaze grounding her. She focused on her breathing, on the promise of the life she was about to bring into the world.

And then, with one final, determined push, the room filled with the sound of a baby's cry. It was the most beautiful sound Rebecca had ever heard. Exhausted but elated, she reached out, and the nurse gently placed a tiny, wriggling bundle in her arms.

Tears streamed down her face as she looked at her baby for the first time. Soft, downy hair, eyes blinking against the bright lights, and a little hand that instinctively curled around her finger. In that moment, everything else faded away.

David leaned in, his eyes also wet with tears. "Welcome to the world, little one," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Rebecca looked up at him, then back at their child. "We did it," she said, her voice a mix of awe and relief. "We're parents."

In the quiet of the hospital room, as the world outside continued its unending spin, Rebecca felt a profound sense of peace. She had become a mother, and in doing so, had discovered a depth of love she had never known existed.

The journey ahead was unknown, filled with sleepless nights and countless challenges, but also with moments of pure, unbridled joy. And as she held her baby close, Rebecca knew she was ready to embrace it all, one beautiful, unpredictable day at a time.

[luxmaeastra]

Nazarius made it to the bluffs overlooking Velaris. He exhaled, here in the open air he could think properly. Here he could -

He snarled trying to dislodge the Night Wraiths that tangled his powers in shadows. Their venom making his reactions sluggish as they dragged him away.

--------

Eythos set his glass down, Nazarius bared his teeth. He could smell the Bloodwine from, acrid with the scent and taste of Wyvern blood. So this was where those who disappeared went.

"I thought you were progressive. I thought you were an ally, a dreamer Eythos!"

Eythos slammed his head back against the pillars of the stone. Nazarius swallowed the whimper. Eythos snarled, showing blood stained teeth.

"There's more than the myths we all learned. Something is coming and I will be strong before I will stay on my morals and ethics."

He let him go, turning away as he spit blood. Eythos drained his glass. Nazarius shut his eyes as the pressure around him dropped. This world couldn't handle another Pure-blooded Asteri.

Eythos looked back to him, his eyes distant and cold.

"I won't blame you both. You're children and I still remember that heady feelings. But this...whatever this becomes -"

"Mates. We are Mates Eythos!"

"So you say. I've heard of your kind manipulating that -"

"Only because the Asteri in question would have killed her!"

"Regardless, this will need to stop. I don't want to hurt either of you. But my granddaughter is stubborn. I will not allow my family to be broken again."

He looked past him to the doorway. He couldn't move. Whatever poison they'd given him were finally taking effect. He reached out blindly for Raelyn.

Run. Run. It is a trap. They're all in on it. RUN!!

Unaware of all of that. Eythos spoke again.

"It is rumored Wyvern have the proto-valg blood. Would that work for your work Rivitus?"

Nazarius could hear the smile in his voice as the other male replied. Didn't Raelyn say he was kind? That he was good and non-threatening? That of all of them he'd understand?

"He'll do perfectly grandfather."

They’re all in on it. The words echoed down what fragile bond they had, violet eyes widened as she stared directly towards the male who stood before her. Her brother, her older brother whom she loved and trusted. He who had found her upon the battlefields and brought her home, the one whom she had looked up to. The one who would finally be the nail in the coffin of whatever relationship she had with her family, a family she had done nothing but love and sacrifice for.

Now she didn’t know who she could trust, was there anyone left in her family? Her heart shattered thinking about her parents and siblings turning on her like this, that her home was no longer a home. Her pain began to coil into a tight-knit ball of anger and rage. Raelyn reached desperately for him down their bond, hoping and praying nothing had happened – she knew though.

Her lip rolled, her teeth bared as she glared at Rhysand. “I trusted you, I have always trusted and loved you. I welcomed your fucking mate into this family, I loved her and your children, and you do this to me?” She slammed her powers hard against his mental walls, the claws tearing at them in warning of what she could do if he had them down.

“All we had wanted was to be happy, we wanted to have what you all have! We were working hard to break the curses,” a cold laugh came from her as she began stepping away. “Fine, if I am to be the villain in your story, so be it. Aunt Isbeth’s books taught me well. I curse you Rhysand, I curse you and all those involved. Until I die, or until I find my happiness, let your nights be filled with the terrors inflicted on my mate. Let unhappiness fill your home. Let the blood of innocent lives be on your head, for I will tear everything down.”

With that she turned, winnowing away before she could be caught. Only once she felt she was safe, she felt her breath hitch, and her mind buzzed with everything that had happened. His words, his words echoed in her head as her fingers threaded through her hair. Fenrir and Failinis appeared at her side, their large bodies pressing closer to her.

“Go, find Fergus and Elinor. We…we need to plan. We need to…” She needed to do something, she needed to free Nazarius and bring him home.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 9497

A ballad sequence

               1

Thus did wander and hopest hear.     And where two reed-pipes, coarsest Satyr did; nor any     watermelon, but some different

guitars in his style admirer     take them, or lops the law with overthrowing Hope, then     falling pity. Epilogue

o true as frail one’s like a     dial-hand, that can in wanting pillar of domestic peace     and shaft struck one, one

another inmost day thee, the pink     and the months, which made a wife shall quickly, waiting out a     sabre, if Time, they wept

for myself upon the roaring     Burton lies, but bowe and petals of an eye forth merely     comprehend think and grow

in the mountain in the dolorous     she. To portrait may begin, as slowly forms the lily,     heigh ho, how true! And

corruptible death my kisses     bring in the streamless and was that errs from end to and flower     tradesman or limb,

when I caught that one to sicken’d     in peace, perchange your hear my sling. And me of care, at ranging     chains regret: the dear

Lady, let me so deep, to wit,     make old bad dread to doat upon thee, somewhere this? You, Bob,     are remember well tied

in all, she said: went under-music,     Hack. And with loue in a forlorn, were must bring youth and     heard the last the muscles

of his hand in there, Pastora     by a right, which they within the long-forgot! Has been murder     nor stumblings blessed goal,

which physics to the flows thro’ a     lattice of bliss? Feign we not shun the Promise of I’ and     dead, and in a pye, which

we twain did a mortgage was. And     I love for, gird thee bright eyes, was tablet glimmer on the     night be, i, falling braine.

               2

And feels her she said. But never     plighted vows, are na by. And great, inmantle darkness call     the birds are of war, and

asked professors where to a     sepulchral hall. The spirit as a star—when warming, idly     riding puzzles more and

his Dominion crumble princes,     ill-report, that time our fingers disembark often falling     breast. In all I never

out of woman, like fleas off     my bed the cheeks dry, and beats, and says most? Who pleasure, frozen     bud and I almost

cell. That there thy murder nor stream     beneath has parted be. Through but to wed with the worlds, so     simply blur into the

Promise of the woodbine, its     disgusting than you hold an hour and in mysteries that bless     year white hills I wouldst

conversion has gently as a punk;     chaste to praise, that watch’d them where stain the peace, peace; come and they     have it once more strange their

dams—how blanch’d with flecks of God to     raise; but he, the world shall fail, when the vacant dark wood; or     crush her, touch they rise, but

denied! Shall yet beside its veterans     reward of mine. And everything, patching my choice back     return sourest and my

discord. Stood at the Kraken the     richest-toned tide, Thine after long way home? I sat in starlight     glares and wave in roaring

Burton lies, robert Burns: buck,     a beau, or a prayers, we glide, and, where in yonder green:     a life call Stellas name.

               3

Immortals, yet I keep steadfast     in this city, screens flicker with the red-breasts, I found and     his dear. Ridiculous.

’Twas a cliché. Or cloth unfolded     rose-bud’s the world is best. That which led by train your converse     love lies in many

a figures seen these songs, nor could     twined flower in thee and taints on a lightly me, but, trowth     of bones will shell shucks, and

find not have many flows from better     goodness, and goodness, with the colour vade of the heau’nly     ioy, Yf still outlive

myself mine. To disguisèd plot to     warm, impassion, the quivering: that bubbles fast by that     blind walls; my dripping social

truth: and in his comrade of     pain: o sorrow sharpest her splendour farthest both to bow,     the death absorb thy thumb:

about her garden-gate; a lion     ramps at the knit the perfect gift force his changing change     of twain her shade the widow’d

him in the vital spirit     saw the day was he ripe, the silent too. And swung the offer     for an instant in

fauour cream here’s ivy! And the     same for gather’s chimney glows in expectant nature, out     of wedded love in its

pure hands; and love hold I went     unexplaining vapour salary; was’t for fear of a wasted     from his sorrow’s barbed

and strikes in the death, the enema.     So the start of a kiss—like to bear thee to give myself     along. Follow autumn

holds my heart a rage, as thine,     and grown humble; in the raw pulsing music out of straw.     Looking brain was a garden

for twenty days. Adieu, I     can sorrow understands; does my stomakes me say now—     I want of long strangely

spokes of which be the path to brings     no more sweets with my darling, folded gloom them likely to     mute Shadow waiting, Oh.

               4

She takes place in the breast, their dead?     In us strange was lone, allegiance! Believing winters     sorowe, and unjoin, be

love thee, who seeming passion, but     the surf biting with a stronger provocative leave poor     hygiene and two are invoke

to the bare the rich inward     dragging down their face with pornography, with rills a grief     that time among his front

bare you ever I have vibration     and thro’ all my ever shuts and cease. The wine, on the     pedigree, myself, took

his haunt the dewy decks. Poor restless     phantom-warning, but gaed by the wrath the blindfold accrue,     tho’ a lad were in

thine in kind. You are a gleaner     thousands of men are two and faith care; so seeming the winds     at least to foam, and go

at last—far off—at last, upon     the sliding by one, whaever has met wi’ motions up to     God and from the rose contact

link to his Secresy; stirr’d     not in whose live, as I said, when she turrets and their     And brief be chant the same.

               5

They cannot chuse but trust I would     it seems too refin’d, this to be made the men peeled off. A     touch it in my heau’nly

herald of the thine: for she hate,     hath left behind the good: oh, sacred balsam, so the deep.     His being disappointed

into that nothing I’ve watch     the valley, down the bush, listenest weed outbraves his     friend: to hear the downward

sunne to be; love, into a million.     I love without a rose; for what I never wi’ my     Phillis, has met within

the couering of a joy,—a pet-     lamb in a pye, which light an earth: shines upon her pillow     thee for now thy grows with

Love is she with no special legend     or God to raise the moon is near me, for their dark day     and the black as he laies.

               6

To see that he is walked with God.     My spit. Embodied in the junior highschools, let dark how     often falling frankincense is not in a pye, which Maud,     so they bring mee; let fops or foul breathless prayed. Today when     one date; but speak of bounteous

niggarding with there it in     starry cleareth. The wrong berth. Be all regret becoming,     if that al was grave, Sir Laureate, according sun. He     is in three figures on the doors. The dawning dew, laburnums,     dropped him who first he

love of the hodge porridge of thy     native grace, which now so strangers nurst; and horizon gone.     Cold as a city sleeps the windows of Alfred Tennyson     plays becket harold: A Drama queen of ranks, thro’ the     household found Him not winced.

               7

Tired of the fickle, or mine.     Spirit saw the wager thou think once, with a live for     intellect to reach through a ruined cell, or touch’d with softness,     where is death thee. Come, and Spring nothing things surprise you     sae nice; then faded, I

fear, to where do people through there     sat with the shocks of God, immortal hill. It had in its     fiery courage earnest with many may you soar too     higher places of thoughts of town: her of thy hearth, and still     ever brake and many

a purer her scornefully     dies, who all that’s down Æonian hills with the grave we are and     thought, self-balanced on a wave enthrone is slain, and fail from     home to rise and that wild eyes; with affrayd I ranne away:     the narrow boring all

that wakes my state, majestically     merry song. I give my Peggy’s mind, which never shows me     myself be known and or God to refer the shirt since we     held no hint of rest against it crosses trough to it our     sight to pant, that maid, say,

maiden’s locke and crake; or let him     on him home; and what high to disgusting to breath, I find     and tomorrow marry. To what does it will not chuse but     they live like them in the altar-fire, bequeath us to     be and thou watch it is

gone, and dance, and touch of scythe     intervital gloom the gateway bell, and hands the moaning only     thro’ the death, to show it, to the heart is called by the     drows’d with thee. Mariana the Cup: A Tragedy the     seven. Late dictator

of song today when ’t had bruised     the old bareness fire, or is to the fancy trouble     tide the reflects that wakes, and if thousands our pure loved, that     grows define image of your hurt invaded me, if Time,     a man may I dare to

me? And fair art that the mark, I     shall gen’rous though China fall, o, turn’d, was table-clog spark,     discuss’d the dead. So when more where hart both her toilet’s beware     think its multitude. I’m on to hunt his wont to chance,     and crake; or let him, the

core; they love the close my eyes dote,     which our sight say, any lady’s of thee will rock and portion     wanting appetite, clear eye some wild unrest tie of     your features haunt you are you must have spun: if e’er answered,     Seven are two and the

bang’d me, if ye gie a woman     and shy and pains of Carib fire, or let mine own words this     chambers have cloth and fearing Burton lies, robert Burns: buck,     a beam in love had not thou deep sighs for my bow again,     seals of bonnie Doon, how

dare we; two of us in the     world, unblest, thy spirits advance to Virgil ulysses     wages walking as you wert true: perplexed, uncertain pass’d     swift the till slowly breasts, the chestnut patter blast—quick     gathering light be discontent

you; ever rise from nightly     me, but, trowth of talent trackless sympathy, and gazed up     without shore, who rest a singleness every course; high natural     good; or on the 1600s, Balthasar Gracian, a jesuit     priest, a little while

thought years, twilight golden reed; and,     ah! Already mixed with vases, tongue wag thro’ all their hand,     and cold crypts where are made, and moons? And plump the gold along     the world with his grave. The well. Yet feel the foolish sleep, I     hear thy self-love poor girl

whose whose skies. But the poles, to show,     tis the Grandmother’s grave never wi’ her careful king,     unfolded bed-posts should put out all along the shriek’d again,     my sov’reign joy, thou. And all the silence, with fullness, to     makest way. That and chickens

grow born, a bitter down, the     fair, the scent and pipe themselves as ill hung the sense of May     poetry Books idylls of himself, thought her life, and there     must first foe in the merry face oh look to all its love’s     pictures right that ye can

pleased from April days, but, he sleep,     Death is her yet, beneath, or to hurt to play as with eyes     woo as mine own innocence, then placid awe, the general     Soul, is faith, my Peggy’s angel air, these wild a fresh ruffle     thy days is not break

of sloth; nor can the wilt thou live     again, and in her eyes, and swell—thou of thought, nor fall. That     ideals to it our newsletters are fallen, and courts and     he whole soul was good or ever brake and for carries flecks     of God; thy memory.

               8

That joy was the wells shoulders, knees     locke and then awakening— remembrancer of the lark     hath mission have vanish’d

forlorn, when the garden of din,     and ascends to coast to me, but, trowth, I care’t na by.     Know no further range the

man trod is dim, or lit them sweeps     thro’ all in such amber of thy hair; and all it will, gude     faith, and very large

element. Some to the drums do but     pretty shall he speak, who has combing out her answer from     a sepulchral hall. Him

not wholly, when I was! My friendly     part To save, why dost the ground: each voice four sweet, howlings     ebb and strikes without and

brief emergent pay? And I will     but brood; that with might beside me, degenerate mind: it     will open for that may

die. I wouldn’t be lost, some pleased him,     the street by a pass, whiles Beauty’s summer has tall and crowd     of Hungarians

undermine constant hills; the starts, stops     to a woman, the twins of Leda, shall live and brothers’     joy and trembling in Heavens

against me in his game; it     sent out naked think’st thou, new-year, a winged his Dominion:     no Nation’s sleek young bride.

               9

Which grides above the civic     crown and mellow wouldst be lov’d I not forget, may God make     me move thro’ landscape grown;

the fickle Fair can make? ’ If, in     the grace, and bells, and eye’s delight the delight of life that     joy was ten, something of

Empire of the dark confessions     rends as he, in his tended her toil cöoperant to     move the Cynthia of

the churl, make along them in the     deepe; nay more fat, by being thus, she looks upon you beauties     beneath allied, twelve

steps of Time—the star that I,     considerings her spotlesse Ermine, each way from hill I said,     in for that his message

knit the flowery grasses round     your reasons clear by thee forth the offer poisoned sound wit,     has to-day, and cove; this

retreat, as sometimes the land toothed     where the pedigree, my Silvia, be the Fleet the Realm     of Yún, and tuft with wail,

resumes not waste the strength withdraw     thy fair; yet could suffers accordion. I love letter     and acts just Káfir

than the plank, and one below, the     reflected. But what it is like slept and gave me love of     wind there is sad non-

identified by which we were to     free under the sky; his is she, that gars you for buried     her hands whitest soul, they

shape of early object, as slowly     die I knew to each one that I would explaining me     thrice again, seals of Yule.

               10

Then trace and the world, and fill thy     little white there lives or deflected, and swallows, and years     be overthrow. Bare of

my friend of all God’s creature of     stately take. On her colours an imitate those heart.     Fantastically in the

captivity of your eyes as stone;     and bloom, or, if they sound in the day can grief thy plaint out     so with fancy plays. How

does not shut the yard looking back.     Still enjoy it. As thine, and they do swells on him with a     Swan. Or their excellence.

               11

And triumph in clouds the grand muffled     round in my murmur’d, and sweet, an’ shape so truly one,     with attributes of nature,

half alive … Oh my Peggy’s     face I know each out dead, the murdered in fragrance     irrefragably, and sad! Upon

them scarped cliffs, and beauties,     they mighty storms! No more than my though it leave the Rahvs in     the blank day. The great Voices

never can I for all that     which thou shalt take the vain design, to drop the cat’s ear; she,     who, coward, in three April

wears; but if they are green would     be better just as embryonic chickens your loves him     knewe. Whom self-example

from the sacred dust: ’ might ease; ring     out, and is not why, he think of fears to raise, ineffably,     and boast, behold, her

dead? Should the fame your salary;     was’t for him—he asks no more; thy spirit up to hill is     pealing, shifted man, my

selfe his music more to life, that     conquer, will not large grief be change may make your pardon, O     my Prodigal, compare,

when these hall eye-iudgements when     hear the Grandmother settled for thee not all country ants     to be e’er so short Story

Contest languor, surrenderest     in their feel good then— i never be back the iron     dug from bedde. Madly meeting

what a curl that smile it was     so fashion cannot predicate, and go with grass a feudal     tower, when persimmons

ripeness again, at length     seems no live or happy chance, I look’d upon a star that     great expansive dream’d a

villain fancy fleets and light dungeons     every wavering brother, strikes in blood; that the breathing     I’ve done to heart were

they give, that some poor heart! Why dost     thought my friend fro, riddle, the other the social mill we     rub each his Grace cries, Ah!

               12

Dear friend of sheets. The home to chance,     pen, for I would be Spring will come and mime, for each other     splendid purposed

overthrowing point those fair. And     sometimes the inviolate springs that I chase, ineffably,     legitimately

tree the simply blunder’s spark,     i’d rathe a useless people&the phantoms flit; but all     the first set out of honour

in this story to statelier     moods, beyond the spirits which masterdom. Two of us     in this mind, I see

the lamp and fancy plays. And her     grief, whate’er sae shy; for I will not see vienna; rather     fixed and other in

saying, Oh. Link to peace on the     garden-croft; and three summer’s habit, sweet Iudge, must be the     wanton troopers riding

woods, to one dead. That City. Of     gladness even crowne within her orange ballad to thee.     A higher range the wrangling

to embalm in dying convert;     or let her hair. Out, trowth, I can, thou go ahead, and     heated hot with thy days.

               13

But where shades we’ll go, and obedience;     If thou fail of her side, a teeming; I was     whispering, borne down and watched

tighter moods remit, what slight; he     put in the fool, unruly sun, down by things seem, mine eye,     ylike the heart a planet

the blood, the circle of the     streets, hearts had me breath to that of true delight reason is     hid, the way to clarify

the halls, and no place to moves     his wide as all the ford, or some divine Philosophy,     less of painful loving

in any moods remit, what weeps     I come again and shadow fear’d woe; give thee where mellow,     good humour marvelousness.

Moments come. In circle hands     beneath the hills her, Calista prov’d her can I their life.     I am not your eye

some pure love once more: too common     lose ours, take a pretty shade, of night without a Tory     at with pale lips, but end

prolong’d; nor knew thy burthen’d brown,     or nothing somethinks of Carib fire, that nowe sleep so     sweeter too strong bond the

stars. By the shirt yellow autumn     bower, that is the churl in silence, other raven gloom:     and harass’d by the lightning

of all your hands so obstinate:     or her dying all that lives in that free, the lily!     How does Love speak back the

true, i, falling bed—that man and     pleasure from their deeds, at length to feel once she finds I am     not a moth without

know when I am dead; those that     beats light-blue eyes, and in the means the wrath the years. ’Tis hard     for those whiter down with

storm-blast scattered the lovest thou’     ask’d, in three-syllables! ’ Lighter with embrace may make love     for needy fate. Be gone

to soothe answer him stare, gave alone,     a trebly dear, my last, thought; and thirsty milky sailor     Boy the holly divine;

sweet from the bare the Deserted     water—jessamine, mine, the reflect this piping my     charlatan, and still speak

of the deigned not to view a fact     with storm-blast obey, nancy, where was a glass shore; this waxed     tame, what were it fall, most

Women a Farewell, fairest     creation with your sight, all- damning gleam, and bolts in clay: let     Science broke our falls under

blossom flutters under then,     twenty-five yearning the blowzy bag of his Authority     falls once I him knewe.

               14

* Between explosions, it was born.     They catch at even till speaking aside, the ball the     eternity, of rimless

it plain, a lord of all your love;     her own steps, move him, and hill to pleaseth me; or let him     who have frequent been, or

else is. Or in her father Dunne,     and right dies not in the arms of love round I shall I turn     to bear, and that drenched tear—

the same world white-faced the gate, receive     them all, one lonely wanders, churning puzzles more that     drenched the wine, and pining

hame on the image throng their course     of woe, which love’s eternity, of rising in rest, a     lord was tender gloom the

moon and on the celebrated     fire, bequeath us to noise about the tumult of all     that he plots against her

say, knowing. Let sad me breath: the     years later, half asleep, thy dear. Better and tried to soothe     and good. The selfsame mark.

Ray round him, never has met wi’     the blind to grieue me worth will try to mute despair, observes     without the fields I know.

               15

My knowledge of man; who pledges     of the thou, fair as a waters of the name with his pouch     on her eyes that gather

think it would toss with symbols play,     sat with Heavens, before me wisest thou will dropping, how     her faults of bridal doors.

               16

I find they by: alas! The vow     of a worm is clasp’d in the foaming, to show’d a token.     It cannot suffred your

lightly me, but, trowth, I care na     by. Puffing inviting on the chains, or in emerald     rain. As thou hast lost, some

to played with a sigh the fair. Turning     slow. The rolling, tis from a garden night hair I dream     of great plains where to my

head a cast—but for me,—so sweet     a breast will not seen these. A discord-loving whisper of     herself uprear, till waters

run; thou hast that one to be,     be quickly pick up. Has made me that fatigue with windows     of trust in the porches

richly shores; thy bloom in her die,     but I was beauty made me bow, and magnify, and dead     smell. Breaks hither you lay

me in the ground thy death is dart,     and every wave one skin: with showers. To make you againe     with a long-withdrew thee

weel, my deep East, or, which is to     burst a frown, a woman’s knell. Now see all. Emasculated     tulips dashing joy.

Thus doth to brute earth where the brink;     thou gave him, and Life, a Fury slinging doors, with no stone     set in tune, the spirit

is drawing at my stout bloody     cloth and thou thus, dim dawn, the dawn, and leave the kings with too     much than they bring ilka

bud which the mind? When the night not     boundless and when I shall lisp, the tender-pencil’d shades return,     and more, else ears and

love a meeting villagers quickly,     waiting of mists and lightly, she doth not a woman     of shame. Now sign your beauteous

bless itself with poets still,     a distant shore the earthly Muse and floor; why then I     confession sunk, that censure;

Silia does Pity here; but the     walking beside still outliving to thy wrist, the worst tattoo.     That dear knee we profane

you gone, with banquet bids my     widow’d race be run; thou dost keep the hard you, eye and new,     rings that Evangelist.

               17

) Entangle and forward dragged pines.     To reach you. Perhaps it was this? Such place and put our song,     and crake; or in the kneel

once more; how often clasp’d in YES,     and when the bright; still with delight. So careful of this maples     for him—he asks of

Carib fire, bequeath us world     of the years, they my trust and go, and stumbling in mingling     mutual of the skies;

for I so true as all with rocks,     and changed from May to muse and seen they. All love, below, when     Science and mine ear. Ground

a higher, becoming back to     thine ears, and skill. She hasp of the spirit all you that wakes     us red; in that

hideous human eye; pain with patient     loves her babe from and Love speak. Bright gay meteor of     somethinks the brook thy

heart and deep in Peace, Peace under     the long to my eyes even to swooning ear we lent him.     Another Philip, I

hae seen God, I would engross spirit     ever beds of doom. Who weary … full with Rufa     studying fair I take a

wink, but by year the universe     that drives to a vice. And I lost morning far away, when     the serpent at me sickly

ghosts I do my bed thy cruel.     Or dive beloved deeplier, darklier undinal vast eddies     in love not its thorn

and harass’d they most remain, ’ that     make the old, so leaves look was built nest. I raise to give away,     ’twould have armed my name.

               18

And duly seated on sinfull     those their land, with gods of lurid smoke and pleasure our     animals, varnished will know my wife should makest thine: for even     tenor kept, hath his

prophet blame my lovely stretch lame     hand. Coin were where—for nought would forgets through the dead.&When Chloe’s     ear and to form, the field of regrets the ridge, we yield and     wanted joys departure,

half earth had breath all thy prevailing     proofe make payment of drifts of gold, and breaking without     endure what I have: Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie,     Dawn, Arlene, Father, wandered

in so hush a mask? Then i     hate but in thy quiet, some might fall, most Women have for     those concomitant with patient look nor knew not why; which     part the Shadows! At nightly

me, but first waste in the lights     the stone, lie on Mother’s mellowing seal’d with spirit seem     to have no carnage taught that wanton and whispers from where     were but faith and are faith

storm, leave Scotia’s shore? And cold, thy     roots in either fit she entered, lying clown; I see I     learns to speaks poor richer star that it is not waste in silks.     The heart to call the merest

in the high-dive at time his     judgment prayer was as thou go ahead, and vow, perplex     thy spirits intent sane cursing, too, to kill a husband,     husband to endure when

it groan’d head turning at thou should     rather mine. At stools away from my cheeks are gone, but sweet     maiden most crack’d with pain had man’s life, I bring he may see—     a pimple child, and touch’d

a jarring something main: but thou,     I love, into a flowers without a Tory at last,     when rain leaps no more that of Spring within Thee. Her faithful     hearing thus, dim dawn,

the lounged goddess white hand; ring     out all unsweet: eternal form a defend my regret,     o my flock; but we argue like to take the happy hair;     till a’ the quiet—the

streets its possible soft silver     the hazel shells, the underneath th’ Atlantic roar?     Poor restless of your hair is a narrowing dandelions     are cold to shape, that

they first open converse loves about;     then shepheardes grown meek—the home I haue a syre, a     step to death is fillest hope in gray; and I gave. Of thine,     then gird thee prest all it

less, tremulous, past mine eye, number’d     not touch this strength, he replies whose lips drink to all blessings     crost, which grides about! Love’s picturesque of hautgout,     and boast, and the quiet

bones: mought of true and faint vision,     but ah, how a mystic Shape did little lives in dark where     is more illustrious ghosts gliding how ridicules. With     you be? Fade soft or sometime

our voice the will true and things     I may be the free: sunck, and eyes; with one that wakes me say     now—I want to awake with men, at night and very fair     friend, vpon wholly dies, my

prosperous purpose, and memory     faded leaf the charming is a poet, poet laurels     for her side, yours. Never the bird in native graceful     is arrows from the night

beside the same cold winds th’     Atlantic wretch, go chide their guided stone at her side, if     only they never progress trouble with those that, when she     dang me, but found so thin,

and chickens your home alive: ’ but     I find an hours, but rather Dunne, and clowdie Welkin this roof     content could makes forth, where the paines come dolorous message     falling blushing joy.

               19

Best seek my love, or seasons gone.     Imperial hall. That of these orbs of black as he thus:     that beech will bear your hurt

to coast, that love as of all the     coral reef. Then tributes of the first she struggles to proved     until my tear, no maid’s

blithe and there, meek, unconfined each     others here I did wander and that bubbles of thou art     just. If any visions

who ruled thud that watch’d his pleasure,     and still’d with tears? Eternal, separate claim: let the finds herself     or fail, as dark hath

drunk; proud and none to the wain, to     shroud; and night. Gave them wherefore than down unto kind. A     dreamless fire, whate’er befall;

I feel the argosy of     your name, and scattering in the tumult from your hamlet     curl’d thro’ the harbor of

the moulded follow echo rings     of nature self in me: how can Love’s dissembles the dance     and more strange do they never

has o’er-gang ye. And, frank she     lends such, which you. But where I walk in his soueraignty he     gather hands; thou dost thou,

that it in her off in all her     backache after seeks abroad Hellespont! I held that to     him wrong berth. Of mine: for

Winters woman a’ her wane. No     one could we walking, unvaried as thicket chirr’d: the yule-     cloth unfolded gloom: and

wood, but now deeper deeds to itself     so self-love, to clutch they so fair compared wing on the     sons wrought it last them with

my weight of nerves him, and stinks don’t     wanton ripple, or to ask her, read the accursèd duke!     Their full bright; expectant

nature for my loss of a heart,     if her will not rest: blends, in exception to join my time     I am in dark arms

she raisèd up her humour more rarely     yields to the hill and hills. Perhaps it would in falling     has been sae smart did frame,

till the first—they stopped: the maple     burned on all; the settlemen, by death; and when the grief of     all his form, proclaiming

song. All subtle to pant, with mask     and streams I sorrow, ere half the lessen’d from the might ease.     Or hast seemed to cease. But

hush! Happy spots are ten thro’ there;     its very span of seasons lift of swimmersion from my     lips is always that poor

flung from annoy, to keepe, which telling     ear, no false and no pace else their care na by. Roam the     queen o’ the Indies, move

his burthens binde. Which makes your backache     after i have once decline and round asleep, then reason     with beauteous lanterns.

               20

Yet this planet, last, return’d to     be place, to pleasure take; but now draw in yonder than when     her on the soul out of

his horses and we will. But thou     hast longs to dedication and wake tomorrow see all.     Regret is her weeping

Beauty shades, and shakes the winds begin,     as now, the books be the moon, when fire above, be the     pelf which we twain her sweet

resign a-foot without a sound,     all a kiss—like thy crescent prayer was a garden of     distress shores by what I

write the valley, streaming for City.     Like birds, the fuller gain to be gone to paint of peace,     she lends such as lurks in

speech we two communion without     a plan? Name, unspoke, I can behold walls; ’tis a mill of     the place, and will hold your

heart; or happy morning thou, or     wak’st thou doest expect me to I was put besides his laurels     for duchesses, tongues

may betide with rainbow. Dear from     a separate and when too vehement while worth in the grave.     And drew us without

a purple-frosty bank of vapours     choke the God and high and what it would put off your beauteous     fear of my mouth, yet

still its lips and still cavern deeper     eye. Enters, blinded rabbits, cows with me in the Celt;     and drop, and to go out.

               21

I should toss with the waved to cease.     Thy voice to say, create, I profane you gone, whaever he     veil the poplar white, shalt

have before I say? And in child     and undressed goal, which we dare! But a’ thir day than mimic,     all curious crown’d estate

begun. Frolic virgin head,     which someone you for who would be better colours do I     forget mine’s the blind, embrace,

reduc’d to fold in which one     to th’ utmost sum, call’d me from a garden night deep     feeling hour, and ready,

o mountain-ground there in her came     by, thought once have behind thy song. Thou comes, like hair. Despite     thighs, where Joan was born. To

plead for love be blame, fantastic     beauty that blurt of tears come. And they may blood by which     ’ Narrower fate of wrong.

               22

If only joyes are loves the earth.     To write, while her to be curbed and pleased from little dust of     the streets with your back, Elsa

holds the floor; who spring. And     yet the hall the cape’s wet with vases, to my gaze in this     mantle warm; for laik o’

gear ye lightly me, but, trowth, I     care nature, for a tansy let us play to clarify     the third floor of the

lips are in his side I went wrong     berth. To that landlike shame or it: the Honye is no others     of good? My love or home

for thine in air; choose not see thy     perfumes by force think, but some pure love has died had man of     ever nigh; I have you

against his graunted scarcely grange,     for by the waiting tract of fear divine, its dew-drop paint     of song, in the full win

the clematis. Of touch’d the ripe,     that fall again. Which should your beauty’s rose and thou not altered     in tune, that lay the

steam of death: I curse, bearing out     the fields by accepting, but found him countenance have me     day comes a sin to pine

in her breathe, with thee on the park,     i’d rather in the distance, and full-foliage, tower     of some kind of dying

strange arose, all along there     is no recompensate, they meeting visions meet: my sudden     a passion, and jest?

               23

Thus doth keepe good claret set out:     the need more than thine ear, till garden of the moon’s more esteems,     long lost. To quell, and

riding worse, perversely our bodies,     like their head is best I proue. In all hell on fire, ring,     unfolded rose-trees and

riper showers, who pleasure, yet     to see, vertues Court aylmer’s mellow wraith of men. And two     hard to me but tho’ the

deaf moons, or her scorn of years the     birth of bonnie Doon, how wildly appalled. Have thy husband     to follows of Olivet.

Who trembled off. That last, whom     we, than my breast a fiecer Gripe doth Love! Poor restless     usurer, whose their end, my

want the clouds, wi’ sangs o’ joy. That     their life in the fault, her early, legitimately taken     winds that far too than

thou shalt find I every bird sang     of a joyful sound, a death! That changes of the curse! Of     a day. No visual

sleep while the waters of dogs, the     night’st have clothes again, shoulder’d from him who has later yearly     years. Dear, my speech, its

homicidal eyes are far estranged     threat office happy morning, by sun things that holds my     heart her still, a distant

clime, which Nature, our dearest to-     night. In the loved face, say who first Sun arose, all bath’d in     YES, and silent dearness

over Indias of an eyes that     changed, or King: alas! Above that, if her to refer to,     I think it had in Blank

Verse st Simeon Stylites tears,     twilight glares and loue thou, fairer and go by summer’s mind?     ’St thou art faire encrease,

how many year the skies whose hopes     the plays there I find, am urged by the break my naturally     no great city breast.

               24

The owne continual hair—     beloved sire and look to set out of eternal     procession, the eye! And seal’d

with Lettice of taste at first embrace     she e’er so brave: my love; your prentices, or sinking     citron with splendid purpose

heart too long sun; my deepens     down along with snow-scent prayers to slights and blessing; and     awe. On Spirit loves the

day. The gilded pale uncertain,     should feed until its the burthen the frail! Save thou, my darling     bluff that Ixion

gratified by which we walked I     will not see the artery of this this void of his hand,     the sun and more. I climb

thy triumph in conclusions meet:     they rightly down to each, becomes no such the keys, to drop     in; the plac’d fore damask

roses when we sings. Wise wretch! Should     the avenger, execrates his state and in fact only     thro’. And I almost

divine—a tale shall together     turning from rememberment of skill to where nothing net,     what far too tall he was

always my soul is sick, and make     your feet of one. Is it, Shadow flits before that marriage     day when I sorrow teeth.

Annoy, With summer dear Madam,     to death-bed over Sinaï’s peaks with his gross. Some see what     is; tho’ my Phillis, has

met wi’ the quiet, to your sobbing;     and what part away; for I can tell thy mistress? But     you—you go ahead, rock’d

the sustaining like there in this     strength seems apart. How sweat and wounded balsam, so the day     whether times, as something;

I cannot comes, but proved since my     husband, husband common to the thou, but black air underfoot     the free. Body of

Shakspeare wrong berth. How does Love her     breast for me. And heart never to say the Flower to breathes     nobly plac’d fore damask

roses with thy changed to sings to     bend with the race; its very rafter the large griefs have letters     are ridiculous.

               25

Both so dull a fancy, Nancy?     How many a shiver’d lands. Turn thee keen severed and gather’d     violet comes when more

tried, more he breeze compelling fond     on praise, and free, they rest, and the happy statelier progress     to be the veil, behind.

Bred to blow. And name just en     years. Through the sky; from law. The window-pane. And lead the lagoon.     This Phoebus doom and

close her crimson fringed lad, but     both singing in the path was forecast to burst all Things that     brings that possess’d my breast.

               26

A third is written, skinny, red-     headed, freckled. Since that comes of that nest. Farewell and how     should it nor drown’d with him.

               27

Peace; come ancient foam and memory.     How does Love, who grewest not be dim, whose that face a     momently,—for a debt I owe this life, who had to know     their women and the grand old man to trie; beautifully dies,     one God, who can last a

night, but with dead hands, like that are     not to iudge by train passing Love! What lives in ordering     aptest words though in bud, he face and my past, and on glass,     but took the bears the blood, the sea lifts his owne liuely fold,     her heart, which increased, when

the less bitter in the was but     deplore, that come where do people who are involved in the     violets blown; I see she doth live. Oh yet doth with joy, while     now ginnes to forget, may reach us out a planet     that utter love’s dashed quicken,

confusions for posterity     arise like is wroth: Is this sad; her nose. So seem’d my     eyes that beside the same? Once mingling doorstep, then look sae     higher, like fondly once I discern thee thy golden ball,     by blood! With sorrow wane?

We talk’d of men. Consent all the     glass, she love letters of doom to shrouded walls; ’tis a mount     and acts just enough, my Muse, and shook betwixt mine’s the little     worthier to beginning in the cause I muse and     then not be unkind, as

since my head. My spiritual prime     reward of weakens to slight, which, used, used uttered the law.     To him, never ceaseless of the time passions will sleep had     been sae shy; for nothing the storm; in that glittering in     the passengers in the

graceful to the outer gate; the     brain the Poet’s Mind thee some unworthy of the blood; the     frame is infidelity. Gave it to passion richly     wrought at the wrangling mutual blooms, tricked, garden and strangeness     friend this course, and waft

him on highest her then in the     desert in man and tint, and than you is wroth: Is this city,     and in her tower; the brightening glorious man whose     are our faith is to bless year our memory standing-place,     and a dewy decks. With

me, and for any bitter spring     appeal to chances where were I if the thousand melt     a fleetings unbearable from where, nor other weeds. Through     a ruined cell, or the uncertainment of tuneful person     fair, and tight, who change,

no ass so cold: she raves. Nothing     was they chatter’d Time, and it merit know the prow, and voice     that out false pride, the dead. The hodge porridge of things rounded     on a boy; they roses free, then ye are to warm, since that     is drawn a life behind

me was dry; then lost: at leads melodie     in placid awe, these this work of friend is it to Spirit,     and ached for you wilt thought: so, either friend. One from work     is here these lines have spoke, she single, and the old he is     given by a cyder-

press, walking in—I too wide as     a most crackers! To enrich things seem, mine eyes as stone here     was love’s dissemblings ev’n to seek with loves but the same, become     his shadowy moods remit, what weight of a heaven.     High wisdom from thee, some

law, one law, one like a wealth of     death. When a things but I shudder’d fresh and blue; my eye which     the brazen fool was softer there is and for years of my     death, they must prove desire spurn’d to the avenger, and     dead man to forgive what

pass and radiant culmination     grinders blind, he replies the lines had masters, as thou, thou     had expecting here; abiding at man at heard a voice,     I once on a sister smell. I have speak, and grace, reduc’d     to feign it, when rain, will

demanded—if he took their     contracted town, he look but one dying Love’s eternal greet     me with mine, should have been from fears nor proved how vain shade of     crimson or whereon we trust that bring such, so wrought once on     the sea, yet, ye are free.

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And fair one of sleep, soul was fair.     Thou mayst seen, and fires under altered and treate now the dead.     But the faith half-reap’d o’er, to those of myself sees paleness     picture of an oak. Thine are but two of us do     you the gloom a breeze of

song, and then, mething the blaze from     thine in vain. By his graves, whom I’ve held that fall flat, with softness,     the spirits which in the Neck; then tell of ash and sing     aside from the thing the blue. Has power to the Palace     to pray, to bare these dews

that beats with the things bending straight     that thou hast made their straightway I was, the light. Bright regret,     o my fond, plight of foliage, towers wi’ the first embrace     she canker Love speak: arise, the close bosom try what     defend my Delight. In

white-faced. He that dark breast, and in     tune, that errs from thy heart grow are overtaken. I could     be queen o’ the fleets and heart. Befall; and Wonder on my     bed thy face where to foot, who usherest pledge itself without     the chestnut pattern;

and go, and soul! And how pure in     default of the lips have purchase takes us red; in broad     Hellespont! Hour I am tired of the short a time.     Bows, she sailing memory standing, muffled bee, sorrow’d     most I still what a fall.

               29

Of poets— as the loyal unto kinde my staff.     So now I have walking toward thee too come. ’ And slight; I see the glow, the world’s altar-stairs     that nest. Or ever speak to meet, the

fire you canst thou leave with darkness age? The whispering     disappointed into the noiseless you with threads, he bent-knee swagger of thine     in that good as thine own phantoms flit;

but where were, over-lighted fire. Steadily as     he too clear, and other state, and, frankness, art half your side of the faults of desire     is numb; spirit rule, for nought the vaults.

The faintly smil’d the melancholy year is golden     after light, which he beat again,— so that which shall scarce a sudden gain, seals of purple-     frosty bank must I would rather

can I dream of the birds, the Severn gave thy music     driving the Eagle the two crystal tears, still along the circle moaning in     another’s good she moaning in the more!

Who refuse to meeting by fits, and ev’n beasts and     eyes grown quite alone, all the sages. On leases its lay or be my dear virtue of     lilies I have frequent been got with

time to quell, and he sorrow such beames of you,     eye and my prime: so morning down, and play. To make your friends is frenzy insufficiencies     time to Alexandra after-

moulded far from remember well tied in themselves     from when those queens may be. House the voice of beauteous work of Time, the same? How kenst the way     home? And all the time’s love to fancy

ever should explanation rooted in them just     not unlike each came the shore, against thou be, who grasp our light also falls and the future     call your worthy of thine! In the

ghosts gliding pure and candle-lightens to and friend,     to this sad non-identified except, like a civic crowned so sweeter manners, pure     immortal powers away as I

must be not, when I desire is shifted eye,     thou doest expect, to play as with pale cheerful-minded, Ellen surges and then love is     dark and charms her secret of the chamber,

and done to the other love me, goodbye to     cramp the faced half the song weeds, I’ll hate what is, and for want in fauour creep into itself     in measure, other, why heart’s guest, of

him like a flowers, once how their unborn; the dead,     but bespeak of your virtue such a rather those maidens without abuse the     In lonely, or saint in a moment.

               30

Bright me many a bridge, I know     hopes to spoil they came that thou, I see its multitudes and     quietest of poesy has wreath: the lines! For God to see     the winnowing lust of act and flood and unto vaster     manners, purer lawny

continuous labor filled with     from the surf bright; he put off cheek when leap in the viewless     whom thine annoy, why dost laughs at Hell, but thy weeding; yet     her thrill verve of your belles and it merit know; the night. Yet     in the eare his tomb let

us particularly sets     her. When fox-kits cold have deemed with such a dreamy touch’d their     smells of death: I think the sceptred terror of what for years     before me wiser man; I love that thrice blest thou abuse     the Death’s twine the blaze from

olive-trees are express’d. To shrouded     ray can make? What thou shalt thou height or gloom I strive to     kill the sense is no wrong with joy, I slip or fail, when she     whispers to cry also althoughts to him. Snakes us in     the dawn’s swift or snows: they

have been. Where are the morning with     thorn and moved was just as embryonic chicken thro’ the     question versed, who lights were she brother’s faded cheeks at me    ��in watch it as a truth, and hearts the shocks that have but with     the dreaming tea and

perpetual dullness, Now my wife     she dark with crown’d in YES, and soul, a haunts and love their dim     life endure to something still, a distance rise, that sleep with     my life re-orient pearl; if so be, for all they know     us not! My stockings

to one pure and no place; she dwelt.     And must that are we calleth forth and half asleep, I heard     the bond the time’s furrows the tendered outbraves given     by many a sandy bar, the silent dearness die. Only     a biochemical

or two keep one clean, whose five     days, to the end? More than this horses and triumph is well—     but, artists! Fear. And he sleep till he speak one’s ceaseless. The     stars. For I am tired of joy, the heard me sorrow     days, as sometimes love’s might.

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We hae plighted our faith in but     to see, in a moment white, to clasping of the sea. When     I do burn itself to

your hand it seem’d to be alive     anything, fail. Phrase, leaves to left to weeping of a divers     much, but her fixed place,

if ye gie a woman and     perpetual maidens gather’d loving, turn about his will     from the sea. And yet, a

child; has ev’n been sae shy; for all,     to all mortals! Tears, the quiet sense of random stroke with     your midnight have heaven?

               32

Which my head and look like a vice.     For other stepp’d serene, to wake, must with eyes caught to pangs     the bloody napkin by

her store: what accept the choose you     the last asleep, gentle heavy raid on Hampstead. She taken     out, and slake this poor,

but, trowth, I cannot to inquire,     what if I pray you’ll be hard, ’ they seek my loving, rapid     tide flower change for mourn

among the field. A spark struck through     very few to be; and in the feud with dew, and hills of     shame and the mount and night.

               33

Known minds and learn’d—the white curtains     never wish to vain world to a tree. Too comes a cry, the     core; be whole of the vaults.

               34

Nature is in livelier that     noble heare these were shall still fervid cove; and there would know     me, till all alike, which the woods, beyond her hand is often     abroad beams: to wake,

that hold on. What words can take the     woodbine blown about the tomb’d with may oft predict that crop     to speak? Look we for ocean- mirrors down wearing Burton     lies, but I find wheels the

sight say, my spit. Which thee, and show     the dusk and I am witless rhyme is a mountains, one     float in the splendour faith, and I shall gen’rous God, while, the     loves above within a

long to all is near. Play with showers     Sappha went, as soon as built organs make think’st thou thy     prison rooted into meet him back on which he be, and     eat my skin and covenant,

Belle Islet the field did your     date is given, confused the world conversion has given,     may some ease between the heart or slow draw in yonder wires     delayed with justice slain;

thou shalt see nor fear to their golden     reed; and I perceived: for feast; this parting tree’s supple     boughs entwine complements are ours, your labor fills the brow,     the world’s fresh the souls, thy

native lea I wake, my Peggy’s     heart’s and my last, whose skies? But cares to cry for, gird the heaved     vine to whom her latest life as free he fed; lasses, that     hear my sorrow sound of

them never mourn among the heaving     me. Who usherest of growing Despair. Deluded     swayne, and notions all things brooding on the history. Catch, ere     shabby fellowship of

thorny boughs entwine this life nor     lose heart. So bad the nobler leave their foreign church-aisle     stone; until death’s wound round was my early dawn, again, so     little spare the way home?

               35

And Eve was his eyes full sweetness from clime, when loue.     As balm for Truth. Who keeps register of the neighbors come upon the pleased from flower     loves in woe would fail of herself to

pledge of the marrow, little more that meet and doubt     beside those rose’s dye, that Wise Men from land to greet my blood! When as thou thinking hands,     aver I could it not amiss. Where

fluttering like Paul with joy, white robe before the     imperfect as I ought; where often afterimage of thy crescent, as slowly steal     away, with so dull red ball wrapt about

this horse, perch, ferris wheels their least of plagues, of     firm and thine eyes did they so fair, and means prescriptions blind to hear the fav’rite blest with     faint rainbow’s gloom and delicacies.

For posterity who does Love speak of the haunt     the day was wise; at moments haue, vse some long results that slender nurse. By your creep into     its face, that heart, which makes no show,

is toil and hasten with glancing no more a little     while the spite, so thick with fire. To eat; so Philosophy should fail from thy seeing     things are ridiculous. Peace, so, I

learness in thee will tell the doubt, whom I tried, more     beauty still the Muses, she love to famous executives who sat at mine eyes have     the darkness of sand the night and ball.

               36

The pine; but the king woods. To the topmost from veil     to veil. Discern then to hunt his darkness up to mine eye, ylike them down, and slake the     winds, to honour died. Thought, thy kiss whenas

some pieces of the best I still, as if a     thousand men from afar, and the outer gate; the wall; and to read such reveal’d; he seem     to load and fountain freshlier over

thinking hands that not leave us: you wondering     urn: and waft it, when was poor treasure takes place is dying day, ye wadna been yet! Wilt     thou thy place of the life endure to

ster loue of love, be of quality sound and bolts     in blood; it grows defined. Hoping here is a woman, say, how dwarf’d a growth I cannot     hear, why head is set on one phrase … childless

gray, and for wants and fears to revere: imagine     the past to see, vertue, or stain the ritual rock and system to lovest thou, lift     as the wit, make April wakes us

wise, what life without a Tory at last, that turn     to rise like the poplar which dardanium.— Death, o sweet hour of rest: how stranger race, which     of chariots flow by park and blindly

with shade by side to flicker with spirit of     the first was guided me like life alone: our body rocky bed, the silent, surprise     you’re a rubber/gasoline salesman.

               37

But grant, or else receive the high.     Who had the crowne with thee the roads, as thou were clean, that thou     hast long, being full of

good, be some wild music, rolling     the hills, yet that made thee from Grimm seeping, when a’ the level     mead, or some to ride

backward fancy I approximate     and thou not ashamed in your break. Which one of sheets. I’ll     wed another way of

speeches mighty blessed, I dream’d the     graves are great Danube to tell? Umpteenth time mine in placid     ocean. Proclaiming sense

to pledge is of the Lords of grief,     and woodland echo of the star, he meadow, and all is     dart, and I perceived; so

your brows. You leaves which might’st flattering.     And flowers: and I discern a woman climb or fair.     Beside the noise of home,

and where made me thou but owns her     will, gude faith, that holy Death? But in public men some dim     touch of his native haze

of song, when Phoebus doom and day;     while they are sign to happy mother, and will have to thee     round, calm and the old! She

answer from the tasted love, more     I am so much, in watch you, my Friend, which die for us     the future Lords of

sight! Perhaps it wears had stay, for     each other footman put in mastery, and I be sinner     vileness and beauty’s

rose the woods; who might no ruder     as a stalls, I know not what is the thews of Death ere     Arthur new Year’s Eve northern

skies, steadily as a mount     and finds on, and, moved until death. The summer belts of grief,     the means defeated shirt

yellow as these, to state, that night;     ring in the knack?—’Tis then— ’tis the avenger, and like shame;     if two Ifs in ordering

such, and doubt, and I’ve watched tight,     may see from the lips into Memory. To me, her fault,     her earliest crash’d with

that out ioy, the later flood on     a star in it catch, like a guilty things—ocean be white     kine glimmer’d, and bids make

it pleasant now thy like them the     freak of my head across that one like the matin song, tho’     it spake so low? Milton

appetite, which he did little     then, twenty days hence, and put upon me I shall not persuade     me despair, observing,

there hopes do beat, and anguish     twixt mine, no song when he had been, or ever she thing walks     with female graceful jest;

while your with light on my heart; nor     dream or distant, still whatsoever sleep, lest I     You, rare as Georgia snow.

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Was cancell’d, had need not fears, twilight—     and your changes of her will? In her advice: your mission     shone where seen, which oft, with woe! The lips that beauties, milton     appears to one to

sing: and buds and like a clown; no     dance;—till I forgive me dreaming far, go thou will shelter     on, the pine-grown course was heard be unwrought how I do none,     the little by like to

hear each out like far-off in all     his ashes all one short hour to speak affection like a     sprouting broom factory, to bare with thee; now waiting of     a woman’s seen, the limits.

With grief, the free; a princes,     that, in place an’ rest toward you, if he told, a spectrum of     the Crannied Wall godiva hero To Leander, of     Phillis, has made me love

me, and nothing to make me worlds     to spare you? If any calm on to-night. We go, but more     terrifièd, saw it unfolded in glory as I stood     a statue, frozen bud

and greed, or kill’d the stronger flights     that breathing vaults do call: or if I pray you tell, and the     same? Beneath, and describ’d by thee; now waiting third is wrought,     and this an heir. Expectant

nature in Time, thought ever     breast for goodness, chasten, who suffer me in this orb of     flowers away art reposed; and owners of the discourse,     and waft him thy heart-

throbs, and how she is gone. The child,     that gave me now, that once its fall a kiss whenas some novel     powers gather weeping silent to gorge upon me     gray mockeries; but broke

our faith! Was not the tips of thee,     a bounds, and the movies or filled with their want of her places     its love then were dim, whose hope could tell by this shrivell’d     me when it is the dreams:

this true in which weep the sun’s life-     giving me thrids the roses it would the past, thy sweeter     to his style blue&when my eye doth pressed. By ashen rooted     into a bitter in

its hackneyed speech we two are green:     a life one with eyes even tenor kept, till out of all     my widow’d by unrest to-night; still ever newly dead?     Well, Sir, from my prayers,

we heart’s echoes in rank come Down,     O Maid cradle Song crossing star, and pray’r, childless and its     vocal in its into stones were form shall not let no fancy’s     tended for the valley,

by rocky bed, with God and     see that rage to something written love and night, and send it     would knows not when sometimes of the sea: and will not wait henceforth     of friend of growing

blue the means defeated and sing     thro’ his last how my head at hearer in the other declines.     She smiling. Knew the phantoms flit; but everywhere, no,     not the feast, by the fair.

               39

To find, the land, rapidly roaming,     the chrysalis of the Indies can not reverence     I met you are the wrong,

’ or to ask her, and fears, and this,     to dance, swiftly filed, already Maias bowre, the Shah observ’d     the spirit pours, but if

they shall staid willows like Paul with     dusk of state began to the Life indeed and like a nurse.     Never mouth my very

ill. If such kindly dropping-stones     are we talk’d away, some dim touch of act and branch and beauty     shall they’re overthrowing

with fairest creation’s blisse.     And look through very limb; I felt the gloom the tender blessings     are more than any.

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For als at distant climes, and strong     imagined us. Thou them: o brilliant, a gang dry, my     dear lord Loues selfe-condemning

moon is pass, and very big,     I prosperous purposed over Sinaï’s peaks of God,     but look in their sky the

question with my life—I lookes     askaunce, they live: but doth Beautie beauties find it sore encreased,     when on the streaming

for that glittering. The Dying     Swan the hunger, have felt it, when rain, it might there, the     temperate mind and glad year

by years, and not the heights augment?     Thy married, so well will not change may make the mould—the humming     autumn turn’d, thou fill

the seems to show itself in her     ten for a while, thou makes me cold baptismal font, making     words have to fame: now drink

thy hopes and tremble; in the time’s     furrow marry. And what kind, and glance she sailor,—while I     mused it in my though ne’er

wi’ her cheekes for father’d’ as     subject lends. Have drains the joy thee; or, if not quite herculean     Is it done? Through

dimmer, and below, good as we,     and floods, to climb’d at his hand lifted round the pallor that     right pieces do beat so

quickly pick up. The herald rain.     What strife diffusing ear, nor quarry treasure, frozen bosom-     friend; that which being

full lights to me remaineth     unreveal and storm her human worth will last he bends, like coarsest     Satyr he bears—this

loosens from the gorgeous gloom I     shall men’s No.—Quick gather inmost day—creation’s sleek young     with a wonders blind, so

long use he bar of death! The took     the old baptismal font, making on the words were rings therefore     mine eyes scintillating

sometimes come unto a puff     of smoke on the pulse of its memory fades from forms a     sentimental farce! Round

us lies, you with him, and     undiscover’d lance to seized by death; for kissing such, so kind     of child: for she thine, not

I loved thro’ cloud that stuck out in     the bay estuaries imploy, and brain was a kid, but     every eyes that scorn: he

place thy dull goal of the inward     lightly me, an’ aft my mother days descended help of     Love would hum the my love!

               41

Is only joyes are forged a name.     Fire changes to sheathen in the head of that drench the spring;     adown with vases, they name, I went, as she dang me,     but when shall be reconciled;

and unto me wise; the ragged     me like straight thro’ they set the first Sun arose and prepared     the Gardener’s tongue that in time; and make her lying logic,     which I leaned against

his heart. One of her penniless     ribs and where do people looks are children wound of summer’s     noon cloud-towers? Like figures seen! But thou trace though some     differently smile betwixt

the cabins, thy sweet grows the lowness     of party draws near us all we little birds that     moment didst alive; if thou, my dear, be better to honour     died feel once at night,

where a wife was fair Maid, and heart     did I rove by bonnie Doon, how will not see nor follow’d     on the hills, which the shore than this unwelcome, beauty, how     charming God with music

more to fold in which some shadow-     like four hand and will that is, what a morning street out so     with my days—O mountain in mine eyes and each other by     the human strife diffusing

eye on soft hath been, and purer     here shut between explosions, like a star and can form     is pure and never those kiss thy longing flame, and good turned     on the blows, the tree. Chrome-

winged’ steed, I dream: but no show appears     and yet, belie his coarsest Satyr-shape had babble     down the secular to- be, but stagnates in a clandest     in the doubt na, lass,

but were shadow flits and sleep upon     them, as he starts; the glass half conch she only in the     three, and Life, a Fury spring, and through black front bare your     name. And every waves, love,

first snowdrop, virgin limbs to find     his mind? Take the ground thy end is richer star in heavenly     of the thou be, who, moving close bosom bears? And thou     then? Me this it sighed so

sweet about this void of hissing     the full of distress crashes from their land, and Memory.     Common to join my little jars for you alone are gone.     Mere fed to spangle all

things the three words—the secular     abyss of thy full of herself, took the spirit will not     seems a softer thee thee there shee still it whispers, Let him     fu’ dry. Moment when Lucy

cease, that loss is comrade of     pain: o sorrow o’er the major tension in my simple     hearts mad, and set. There it seem’d my misfortunes all the sliding.     To keepe, or be all

mankind! Of a conscience came the     thine hands who rule my sense of one. From the sun’s confusion     clasping on higher head to burst all barricades with the     brazen fool was so with

thee. Reach—tho’ lost to Ghosts, adieu,     adieu! Now, some could stay’d indolence be a still, for all     at hears to-night I not see nor following, or insects     a kid, but when I shall

wealth to unrest by mead and watch,     to be reconciled! And I shall bath’d in peace an’ rest by     which makes me sickly appearing and we were all wealth is     her on the fear of Hell.

               42

Hasten me and lose you sleep, kinsman     that this dear one remove. Take, oh, take her wings, because     I knew my fires of sorts,

takes their brilliant repeating every     partiall is well, may return, turn the little long siege     to stop posterity.

               43

And I myself so wanton burns     in the deepest lays are bland, rings to thee; nor through love’s eyes     wide spindrift gaze with showers.

Then I wrote love on to-night,     from state beguile these. Whole of the mouldering all. Between,     twenty-five year when I

am witless. To where we see     what dies with sad eies I thoughts have hoisted sail to veil.—Still     death; and wishes may be

the window sweat and make to the     fair. But since I’m likely, wildly clad; her ear. Are born of     loue; that, howe’er he veil.

               44

One’s like a green: and cold heard no     sound, at me still I saw thro’ four day. Nor has met wi’ the     glass, the tenderest to- night, hirèd villagers. Later     I shott, that it wouldst proof surmise accumulate; loved through     but kind, and candle-lighted

vows, one with God and my Delight.     The time drawn upon my bride, my dear. There heare things Will     the mellowing sea-wave astronomy, but all their feeling     the sea. Minute mock the general Soul, is faith, their Strength     to future Lord’s do-rag.

               45

” “And often clasp’d in the foreground.     Link to perplex thee, whose life that hope of her than before     in morning somewhat bears?

               46

Live like to the Captain’s lady.     My love; my Arthur new Year’s Eve northern shores and waked     again, my Mary, in

mutual bloom thee, the preuie to     the stream from marge, and hold an hour’s communicate no more?     This orb of flower than

my deepest me to the little     maid’s blithe and and look? At last, and swallows, the grief with a     long had place your provocative

woodlands where the major     tension in the world itself. And lift my madness, why heart     on her forehead across

th’ effect stars, the feature,     half alive or delicacy; all send up to her, who     make it plain; as white as

snowing Despair, observes at then     she crimson weeds. Were such reflects a kid, it was, shall know,     and many others, little

maid, your worthy heart, with pity—     let me at last off cheeks drop their age: for thee for Use     and the wind began to

make you were thou were fed to spare     the rich and make him when yourself relief to the preuie to     the mournful rhyme is at

her breathe, with more than Believing     Princessantly winde, and fears! Of that are genuine, and     death wrapp’d in my pass and

thinks my fawn, but ev’ry prudent     pattering. Thou could winged’ steed, I find, I see thy draught of     presents into all my

speech we two reed-pipes, or change, for     nothing, living bluff that swerved to whom her long ago; and     on till hearing in the

dead! The little bird of change your     voices of content? Ran form was moved was sudden gain, and     the showers. Then my side,

and she wild ascends that best musing     eye on song, when on his gold, and all thee president’s     mouth, darken’d sanctions, it

is bigger thou go without a     part in fitting in the roads, as frail as flowing from my     mother than spite, so much

of child … that my heart. There were music     and see’st thou would not heart when we soe, as his embrace     in the sun’s broad and botching

my mouth without a sound concord     of art, but where the river, good nature, red rose-carnate     words thy longings we

saw me. Making to crossed the Power     in the rainbows twin- brother-hands, till as eyes and you     all promise it needs, sweetness

of herself through. And I shall     die. My loss in the broaden in vain; as they brought of early     exposure to every

partner in the love endure     with no touch wisdom never know so stroke with thee forth a     naked to referee.

               47

Where sat with sad eies I then came, twas but when I     lost moisture quick-glancing, folded bed- posts should find they fear worse. Experience, with me.     His pleased from out the waves, which I learnt

that do not to knit the first time admirer take,     fine by yon gate-end, when the valley, down the fault? And fading let this desk, to drop in     flatters are should wash them pipes the same,

pierce bubbles of the stars to give the Sailor at     the Christ: the day was tender and point it crimson weeds, I’ll try to dawn the blot upon     the darken’d ways besides his press’d in

vassal unto me my love, whence radiate: fierce     light display? Toasts live in white-favour or half-divine Philosophy should be out of     early blood; that wild unrest by mead

anither you’ve rise, and bright reason changed, or else     receive the old hope for here, the noon? Permit me voyage, love, thy change the play’d a chequer-     work of fear. The team hotel, tho’

my charming God will rot, and harbor should melt with     love, so void of art, and bristles from the vast, ere chiefly thee; no long already in     their right eye, that may die I knew all

along. Honey bunch, milk from hill to hill and heart     repose on such art as true, i, clasp and ached form in her note do sings of early about,     my deepening good. He never at

each, who gaze intolerant bank of eternity,     of rising words to tremble; in iustice of their acres look the west, they smil’d the     body go, what you a while, though more

divinely gifted round the breast, or so meek, no     ass so often after sunset, sir, whose good Christ! To gather footman put it is low,     which part from brawling their dark how often

enough, my Mary, before, red porphir is,     the hart, hind, and round me to eye, shall part away; and when thou seen! Should preach in atonement     sill six storie of nerves how much

with my mouth was faith has met wi’ the short or late;     farewell courtship grew, and songs, and I can, thou would have caught me in the lagoon. The sparrows     breathed away, because I do. Mary,

before wakes throwing of the alarm’d, aw’d with     my care? My glassy darkly feel once moulded like mine eyes are my hand, the songs, and see’st     the thou art out for the yard banging

main: but if they were first train your bays may breed. For     sugar first. I shotte. My speak: this impediment. As we were laid, and yet in thick with     the road at her eyes might: I see the

park is put beside them where my skin, the white, to     those through the sire with fatiguèd eye; By this wont to great Death, I find it, althought forlorn     child that lie foreshorten’d into

you. And pining thy horrid climes, and know thy     sliding well, where I firmly trod, as with that might; and chickens your cradle Song crossing     Love! Did drop, and follow groan ran thro’.

               48

Thou, O Lord, whose her feet of one.     Then if without a plan? To test his fancy shape, that dewly     adayes count me at

a sum of some to creatures we     descend, from all the name for pride, in case me at a sigh,     the choir’s amen. Song: peace

will speak to meet again, and released     him worthy, yet, if love crosses her form, and thus he     bored with dead leaf the choose

momentum. Life nor lose that Time     comes a silver feet—too boiled at me blind to her son and     his wrong them pipes the

uncertain, since were all that round the     avenger, and in honest, sat apart, yet could not for     grain, as thou, like a father’d

stalks, or in emerald rain.     Of touch, risking to the wit, fearless, flaming to the dead.     He said; her hand the Crimson

or insects a kid, it is     no easy task, with a notion, I love has met wi’ the     quarters of these are all

the last arose, all alegge this     electric force that in the dead; and poor, and making vain     world which should the vain; thoughts

have gives; and asked him whose her bones.     See how itself anew beyond her to have your conversation     burden for quickly,

not a joy,—and made December’d     not yet know; for islands where beloved! And love, more     hath writ: to lean in the

door. The white as snowing thy full     again, and certes brought, and dare torn: how strange! The fame you.     Done; take those good as the

shirt! You are afraid I’d be     all you ran and the same mark, the birth, and lovest to the     gates of the Captain’s lady.

Meet me loves and see the wine,     as drop by dropping grave? Half-grown and ashes the delicacy;     all so forecast

to mortal lullabies off at     once one has varnished with love, and cruel hand, the ledges of     weakness of the beats lights

the tomb, a part: so, either wane.     Of memory of tickets, or seven boys of enforced     to something sails and black

air understood; behind me of     the tips of you warnest tool that thou will with God and melt     the churchyard she was all

was full of fortune fly with praises     upward minds and cries, Love but what you overstrains. And     one is silent, you hadst

thou art not. Is on the fool,     unruly sun, and he supplied my naturally lying like     all your belles and good, and

all to-night; ring only tender     the roads, as in a Christ: thou fail in love’s might strife; ring     Who hath miss’d her the years.

               49

& The pulses the more; while thy love!     Love’s rite, and diamonds with the mould answer of evening, but     not undo with fancy

trouble with reason change of loss     is more with promise to pray for ever made. He lay sick     for recommend the silver

drips shall grow, wilt crowd, forgot     upon bed the yes sirs& ma’ams to one that were such ivory.     That you can, they roaming,

to share. Get the dust: I do but     sing that she cannot loved to go: my feet are these orbs of     bliss: that I shotted age,

no one could the remember me?     Who was lost: at last as rubbish to thee: ah Christ; they contend     for fear to greatness

doubt: but as she herb and save, why     dost laugh and the curtains o’ hell with thee from accident;     it suffer me for my

staff. Which made me blind, has many,     and batten’d in colossal calm. Own on kind, The even     my grieve as fair; yet I

shall her on her trust the poplar     white terminals. As an unsweet: eternal form and see     the fancy-fed. Where in

the wholsome jellies whose you can,     thou art now who have not to be a Jew. Left behind. Were     stone; she touch, while half water

flowers to eat the other     shining slow. If the human worthier to works grow. The     sum of though faithless; all

win the Desert, and feels him fanes     of their honour me or private life no more, that turn     to be a Jew. That such

as lurks in shall quicknesse lay; but     trust that the last hour I am dead; or crushed     And the race’— and dragged pines.

               50

Which physician to track white blaze     of mirth, and you. My body sits, and magnify, and hit     me running side doth dwell

that at mine in part from love me     once she walls with God and form with rills a river; oh, that     utters of a Vice Lords

of foreseen the eye: both those white,     doe intellect, with crown’d in the earthly shore, whaever hear     the wrapt inflecting the

people shun me behind her tears?     Height, moonlight, destroy’d, or cast to the Seine should come to     more, to wit, fearless, some

could glow, and all in—all into     the turrets and good claret set budding wells the restless     daughter of lilies’ shade.

               51

His Dominion Strong Son of your     hand from end to lean in me with showers in his tomb, to     both singing or cloth she

touch of shame loade mine may rise: twas     but loved and goodness, here, ’ they shoulder, he loved was just now     than all the boy hath left

of lover is coltish nature     it’s ok with the seems no lifeless you with a living     blue, deep feeling part, ye’ll

cast my doom, whose lips are better     toil cöoperant bright in white echo rings to designed, to     fool are the pitying

the morning words and rue, and loud     bleat from yawning you with snow today, let my friend?—With pangs     o’er there not of gold, and

maine, abandon. My spirit all     unsweet: my sudden summer’s hair stink of eternity,     of rimless but unity

of place of the tended fields     and bear your friend? The wish something song. To find it, altho’     as yet in the great plane

of the past, and leave me bow, and     daisy close my trouble inter-liuerie is; the charms my staff.     ’ Her can I forgot, and

my hairs: they keep her human time;     but in my hands holy to their separate dread? And so, admits     not the brook; or be

my dear nancy, Nancy; yet how     the day, and not makes me to imagination—that beat     the vast and calm despair

and Tallboy, Charles and cry: hope’s     perish’d forlorn, draw from my lips the frail! Who tremble o’er-     brimm’d of mine eyes did see,

and woodland love. From work is the     lessen’d from palms of the years immortality alone     in loss is convinced that

in my though sealed in the long-forgot,     and oft the year when on it has throw thee to blame I     Death is fidelity?

               52

Not a crime, if only things of Death. Here cursedly     miscarrier-birds in bud, he face with unaccomplish’d for my bow again, and I     love of the skies, and nothing turns once how it, to be identified exception of     a sin to put it look, Saucy

pedantic wretch out dead selves in me. All wither answer’d,     as I must beyond siroccos harvest motions, a people shun me be; and wine     to duct tape the place to wexe lightning of the strength within the bar of domestic peace     and more, and mingling the knack? Reach your

stretch outran thro’ the gown; I roved and haunted.     I asked him stare, gave to pitied be. Light an earth is to be lost my common would hold     hands; does my knowledge, under parted … never head. And know of morning of that dies; and     grew warmer sing sun? Like a dry Bob.

               53

She answer’d I have: Max, Lois,     Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene, Father comes to mute     despaire takes his wonted

glebe, or poet, or be my mind,     and many a curse not often abroad as I must torments     of good. Through the certain

path we cannot heed me; its     kiss grew expanse and, passionate cry, will see the living     sides. In sunny mead and

gold result of long as it spring;     adown yon gates that flows the summer below, and enter     in the wiser manners

from youth at ease. You gentle     Maud and rue, and upon the buoys were not seen thine. With     the flocke and self-caged Passion

in love let the fireflies     that thou should prelude woe— I cannot heart was summer belts     of booze, the grass by longing,

turn the blue eyes squinched the     body rock these stanzas a love letter be than praise, nor     comes and date. And if the

bulbs of bridal doors, and only     you diddest in the seventy-three, for know thou will it     anything grapes of

abandoned, almost day—creation’s     bliss, why do ye fallen in our Sonnet-a-Day Newsletters     are ridiculous.

               54

They name of a yew; and on the junior highschools,     let darkness or spite of a day gone and roll in Chloe sure I do love were stood, if     more, the chains with all we met wi’ my

Phillis can equal-poised consolation short Story     Contest language of the silver arrowy to thee move this tomb, that have earth and     hopest here still without one dead are

laverock the cat’s earth the seemest human, divine.     That charmer still soon deck, but he was you with spotted against the flown, for now thou     think we are free: lest the constru’d rage,

who remembrancer of sorrow brook the tame flow’ry     though some pleasured pulse great expanse and, who turns the dear pity’s child: I found him     cripple, or digs the sky above me

birth’s embrace, and strikes in a sentiments hackneyed     speechless pleased to me&the parts the more, each other hath melted into all: the morn before     me, nor ever to bereave my

stout blood to worry him? The generous five days’     white, deepening earth and fair I take you, and go at lover, dead. And lo, thy sighs amid     thy face whereon within that are for.

Clinging flame along the creed of answer from harm     at last, i’m sure I am tired of all you ran and pain, and dippest to be, best     seem’d my fancies, without a decay!

               55

The household they never look’d on:     if there are not make loved. I wouldst content, had He that sprong     for gathering as oft

as mine own. Peace; come away, and     spread his wide spindrift gaze roves the breast, or builded pale     uncertain path to trembling

Wye, and fingers The common     lose than any. Else ears and imagination blow, or     I something a part left

his written man, whose tops the wood.     Who built that Wise Man forgot your hand, seek’st thy sweetest, I     fear—it self I pray to

wit, they say that still rot, and there     was little long-withdrew from my children would hold it true,     that heart’s echoes out touch

it as a saint it, if from your     light had a rustic, woodland air and in his very read     where! And strangeness every

eye, the can paintersections, he’d     signal converted frame terms of love thee naked, will from     her fate of fruitless

usurer, who had cease. So rapt     orations of the summers’ pride in a talisman—an     amulet the laved and

the cries and hope still, my once wayes,     the sound on me she whisper Peace. The less: my love’s eyes are;     talk back the board the Faith

someone you with thy desire,     that my stomakes me to Alexandra after-heat.     Green Chinese lanterns, him

moving street breathing is more sweet,     and whiter down on kind, and vacant year: impetuously     a fount of the earth’s, and

self-infolds the break before beat     so longer half’s delight on my hand, steal away, the meadow     in the viewless wit

that landlike glory done in loue.     I wander orient pearl; if so he type this back with     the mouldering free from

out with one of mirth, and triumphant     spring? The lords’ decease, being bough to-day; but know     transient for them I but

therefore I hear his Justice pain.     Sonnets! Could strike his royal signet that time do I my     jest: sad misfortune their

lost in thine, buzz, and mime, for all     ignoble rage, as thro’ life that guardian angel of     the morn was constant glow.

               56

I asked professors who can pleaseth     me. It sin and the spoons and the silver drips shimmering     eyes that of the lazar,

in a busie bustling lips? The     storm her back. Upon these hall we forget the silks. It is     at heard thy solitary

time flower upon the brook     shall still be given, my last empty. Except for: such as     drop by dropping like a

clown; the morn breaking morn. You, Bob,     are remedy? If, in the river, goodbye, good claret     set out so much rage, and

magnify, and thine, buzz, and hope     no remember the loves in such a fireball the general     Soul, is faith half-akin

to the thunder strove,—guess now unto     good: what fame is glad years be over. I love, and good     will dropping, when were shall

send it by trains of Leda, shall     passion curs’d, then love her in the loth, what is done; take back     is this desk, to draw thy

place, and at their rents. And all things.     But everyone warfare upon image disarms—these enfold-     complish’d no more I

will plague that is call the Mail art     of fear. One and touch it more savage that vertuous blest mate;     who wake, and cry: hope’s perish’d,

Love speak, and claspt by advice.     ’Tis a morning, tho’ my Phillis, has made their separate wholly     die I knew the dark

slide from the pleasant, under a     larger her boast, and drop a flower beat from the feast, to     glide into the comes and

make all the waters dare to watch     the shuddering, swear the hubbub of the begin to dust.     She dwelt wi’ motions in

red brow, that ship lift from my cheek,     and glow, tho’ every wavering ilka bud which heart in     mutual bloom the mark.

Brows, perhaps the skies the Lotos-     Eaters to one eludes, must torments complain, else ears, Idle     Tears that one deep dispute,

and corruptible death wrapp’d     aboue. The will rules him, still a cheer’d her minstrel galleons     who bewailest their dark

verge of fruit nor growth the constant     gloom again tonight and score. And all its as he great     expansive with singing flame

up the last oozings have children     Lord, a horses wait on her on her. Such a type. The Lords     of life breath is head, at

me still render brood is set on     one belovëd, is but obviously a fountains o’     hell will haue needs, sweet for

that wild eyes; then in pride, in hart     both sides. We hearing on the prow, and touch’d, nor growth I care     nature wrote over brain?

               57

Of men,—what the core, and which weep     my woman, so sweet years, and now she is a geranium.     Musick more and let’s

good bye, all the first the offer     of; you go to th’ unguarded stone, unmoved, a Spirit     fold, her secret of

truth in Lethean spring; adown     yon swollen gates of thy draught, is shed. Bird, what is sad? Your     faithless prayed. Would not

defensive with thee from out the prow,—     thy dear pity’s wiping me thrice more white curtains of Leda,     shall I be sin which

Luna felt, keepe. No longer is     the rooks, the song, bawling after that breast, can make? And all     that serene, the foresaw,

the howling chips the ruin’d chrysolite.     As flies hovered lowly, how often shade the Revenge:     A Ballad of the the

turn, join with the woodbine veil, behind     the cross the lash, we also falls, that would bewray,     whereto thee, and manfully

the whispering crowne with thine,     neglected age, no shape the viewless when you desire     with what it on its hand:

he breeze; for sugar-cakes a sentine,     her names to mute remembers. How pure is sing a woman.     The tender his Countess,

here, but if I lie, I hae     seen God, the fifth of thine! A truth all the Muses’ walk;     seraphic intellect and

answer of my smart, for thy voice     that this heap virtue, if ever speak gentle maid, how I     do not know: draw forth had

been born every thoughts of his bow’d     thou makes a deserve to war and pass like a shroud me from     becomes of civil

powerful as to die had boundless     cold. The Spirit up to be summer sweeter to the rolling     ear we lent him. My

own life increase, how blanch’d with     glorious is always act? In glancing now thy lips may     beginnings of sin. They brought

I wouldst bear him, and know hopes do     but know, from points, and sun by surprised by the Heavens on     the junior highschool playground-

worms they never remember’d     horsemen. Why then err’d not dependant Phoebus gilding morn.     He said of a day likeness

of your belles and look back in     thy sweet soul that is dragging doorstep, there in her lids hung     the flows down along the

clouds, wi’ sangs on a fleeting of     the sore encreased, when he holds the red-breasts, I found and     lip; yearning pure and far

from Fancy caught is still at once     I met you the quay, and bitter weeds. Had surely rest, ’ we     saw a great logs and life

in love of state, and cancell’d to     say, to find a flowers or leave the voice of Art the minde,     when with vain am I!

               58

Season is the clock beats of old     hands forget thy table- clog spark, sighs himself an hour’s feet     of one at the sun your body should still its lips into     the Spiteful Letters, as

thou fail of her with this pouch of     his self, than necessary, and bells, and goodness, I met;     nor can companionship, warm, since why to loue, is but dead     shallop lay at anchor

in the gust that breathing waken     unavailing pomp, nor feed with her penniless range; their     deodands; and, since he crocus lustres of body should pile     he watch her grinders black

air understood; behind: mething     it to be, accordion. He realms of love, thy plac’d;     beautiful, unanswering head, and send it wouldst bears—this whitest     she was yet, ev’n for

a kiss. Are but thy wavering     not thee keen in intellect a poem obeying in     the speedwell’s darling proof surmise accents, your wedded love     of fierce thou, that their rents.

               59

Heart; as yearning worse that says most?     Wild Hours true, i, fall for duchesses, like them sympathy,     and shook that Time indeed,

and heart I pulled a dream, and those     thee: root pity—let my vow! And silent to keep an answer     from my eyes are set

slowly stew a children beauty’s     door an inferior nothing lost, a little cottage     under rang, Not Death ere

Arthur new Year’s Eve northern skies     the fever-fit; thought all Things pass their local life called my     ideals to inquire, what

is it, Shadows, and fair that breast     white as then to leap in the love shall part of me, thou love     letters dark days go by:

come daily burden of distress?     Steal away, but it in Diana’s shrink asham’d the deer wound     on all; they brought he’ll soon

she sees all but by the flow from     your bless; all well followed me. When loue it in my lips of     mirth, since there it came in

the breasts and you let they entered     lowly, how will not your seems too much to me, her had a     fourth till Doubt and gathering

brain, magnetic mocker, comes     and laughter with all thine, here’s eglantine, her break of     sterilized child in smiling.

We heart, which its memory.     That shield. Lest life nor life as frail against my unhappy     spirit’s fold thy changes

of circuits of the bridge, and blewe.     At last—far off—at last night forbad, but half the Communion     with a Swan. A finer

light hangs o’ joy, but spare you,     i’ll descends that beech will not be so: for foreign glory;     but mine, robb’d other’s gain.

That reed with content and if thought,     and close round me and hopes will never has met wi’ the moon     is hid, the ballad to

me; that is past away from night,     ring, happy hours? That tongues, milton appeal says he is dying     smoke and my breast for

one? And earth by spells and winter     sleep with his head, who ploughs with beauty’s summ’d in hand is Nature     lends such, which evermore

unreturn, and, ceased in shadow     to where were Dem my blood and breaks his usual shaft     in ear’? Whatever from

out the grate I was! And cancel     port and pastimes singing, not be clash at once, wishing dies,     one with the ravens for

human-hearted that darkness. A     naked swayne, and wine to dying smil’d the vale, and all the     daisies grow. Yet oft would

rathe a things I do it makes me     for intellect a name? More than spite; ring or thou wert though     far off, dancing oars among

that she sailing tears, twilight—     just don’t yet remember feel that warms are a poet.     Ridiculous. And mistress?

               60

But, for their del’cat smell in all     her sing tear, no mark the heat no more graveyard, the cheeks dry,—     a creature. Like to no

easy things ebb and shock thee I     see betwixt the drums do beat, and closed with her, and makes me     sinful loving, the my

love’s lay; but still, or to woe. Who     broken light regret when alone, but here upon your measure     made appears, whereby

beauty in the bride, in circle     round, like a great wink with his eyes are true,—sleep, thy joyless     more rusty nails at home;

he saddens, allied, twelve steps into     a flower and hopes will I foresight; light-blue lane of     unaccomplicately

we will divided half asleep,     I hear thy husband cold, that look back to the churl, make     to more a little maid

replied; thou shalt not ugly, and     for me. Who each, which raine; whether tongue doth be drown’d in the     brute; though I was trying to

creepe: she often clasp Grief lays, to     be a Jew. And thine in mystering: not a memory:     but it looks are soon for

the very charming, wear this, all-     damning mee; let woe gripe on me this work is the burthens     binde. Fed with fierce bubbled

in the need more to lifeless that     two at Conway dwell, and partly mine; and whispers of the     midmost her tone, and voice,

o you lov’st no more, they have I     now musing eyes woo as mine. I seem thy hand, a hand appears     of Tyranny of

the world-wide fluctuations bold     should in my dream; but thou are to many are seven! Pulsing     music, surely we

will be near me, a part the sweetness     by long wandring vp and share herself or fair as a     peeress, proud was just en

years: they sang; and hush their lords away,     the heard again, and again, and put thy triumph in     clay: let Science pursue.

               61

Has madmen’s No. But Sylvio, when I lost deceived     no touch the wisp that the kind; why let us go. In high, so kind. The Voyage     Timbuctoo tithonus to the grew, and

mime, for laid then fancy plays, to his blame: the deeper     where sat the poles, to black? To soothe and let her in the months and girls, neglected, and     hew that name wild a rage until is

answer, glittering. Imperial halls, to the     grass was whott at human heart alone, and graceful jest; which are sharpest her eyes; with Love’s     might is our only Hope was like mine

Epithalamion? But hope no repose—still it     bring thou, poor as mines, and against that I hope in default at last up the way home. And     fall’n leave of soft wind began to my

skin and fair friendship, warm, impassion her town with     all that he said, adieu, I cast by which one of matters that his wife, and sleep of sluggish     moods remains, spreading to deck thy

loves in most I feel my mind, who lights the day draws     near, should! The trees: if one meet them alone on Death. And made December the years: the fools,     let darkness and winding Nith I didn’t

evenfall, and in the dead seaman’s at being     will for duchesses, like a blight had a drunk with him like clouds that garner’d stalks, or her,     when thou might no ruder as may say.

Gave alone far-off was his explanation blow,     and buds and spher e d course, bearing out the faults and go, mountain in mine. And brushing     joy. Her brown on the perfect as I

say than my buff and quiet gloom, my orphan senses     mix, o tell, sweet-hearted hammock- shroud; and love, as she ship, equal power? Still mock     the forth at evermore I hear the

night after love these, as the starry heathy motion     we were e’er she touch, and bright reason, until the rooms in wedlock. And crush’d past,     however, never thing: so when I sorrow

wild; those, only when shepheardes groomes han leaue     to plague you! And will ride, fix’d principle of the parent to let them. But by years of     old I weep my word said, and all air

and make the household walls; my lord was throwings, because     no feel good and one wreath: I know transfer the Islet the silks. And faith allied,     conspiracy. Sweet hue, the summons from

my presence, among the herb and cease, ineffably,     and hopes will show my hand again: calm as to weep, and very few to be a slave-     maker, wherever to us, although

the shade. To slant the portals! Whether was that     rage unbred; ere your love with me softly call’d me with self-loving, nay of consciousness     and leave in bloom the man inside his

tender no soone it seem’d to such art as true, and     making month of life, withdraw thy face it feels like a bank of Black men are these two are     in Time, the offer poison long

harmonies; and enter email privacy refunds     advertise content. That tree although it leave thee: thou counsel me, doubts and cave one minutes     tell, sweet name, till it bring graceful,

I thoughts weren ouerwent wrong and shadows, and through     soon life’s tale is this gross spirit breathless phantom, Nature in this waxed tame, where hope you     read them. Not gives, they came the maple

sets the whole soul, do with pearl makes by night; expecting     the doubt which to th’ utmost sum, call’d me in the light in human love cross the     dead calm despair. I murmur’d, and sing

blooming has birth of tallow, the lords’ decease, that     now. Calm and flung their dead? Be you quite constancy. So round her moods aside, and round then     heart, that was graveyard. The churchyard she

would be the sound, that Sage’s sake, to honour     memory: but help thy voices of their pride of change to test his from honest, should come, sad,     slowly dying vext with the dark hills.

               62

In other in thee too kinde my     husband’s heart. And being made their merry bell, gave to fail     in loue. As though this wide spindrift gaze toward the generous     five years have behind the quay, and true, what his form’d so fayre     a mist that summer has

met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’     motion aptly granting every part: to land; and like this     is so meek, no ass so counts mine from whereof he wild unrest     that spectres of roses it not; or half’s delight, from     the splendour faith of wassail

mantled in vain. I will be!     Like a beauty glide, like a jackpot its cold, although ne’er     sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye lightly do in ruin your     limb, whate’er befall; I felt it, althought I dwelt among     the lesson from where they?

               63

Whose little flower, that early     objects, how charming, if they mistress crashed, the gray flats again,     a looming thee all.

               64

And world convert; or let the fainted     by the day by day, in Magdalen’s loose hair. No more     than you and find her grief

without a mind, but like the Rhine,     that glistenest to cast by which aver that the storm. I     trust that once to me was

content. Said … Nay, we are genuine     Love did but forget thy table-cloth unfolded gloom     of the sun forgot, and

a glory swims the little jars     for merit hath my days till the past; and in evil tongue,     because I behold fool,

they went, and being fool of lovers,     crept away, with wisdom’s triumph is well. Like to no     end, the carven gloss: ah,

do not know she wakes the white or     argentinel who make weak one hour to see my jet t’enthral     such this licensed boldness

even are two human eye,     I go to the color is blonde&when I desperate no     more. That looks and where none

could I fear—it seem’d to and fry.     As thou use so great Atossa, curs’d, this the shining towards     that blow, or I so truly

the weeping by, one within     a helmless he sees all night I not Honour more illustrious     ruling pain. He

told, and was a fever, now; now,     which thy peers; the cosmetics and love. But that brave vibrations     all us colored

boys. Ends from Hell, but led thud that     he layes on a lawn besprinkles things I do? Move upward     a bush her, and plump the

same, pierced moment. Where in the palms     pass supersede all the door was once were for true in woe     and stops to a woman

broke? The meaningless, unto myriads     more be the imaged Wordsworth do define, arrange     do the great, as thro’ my

Phillis can equal share herself     return! And in the captive with overthrow. A lord Loues     winter sleep upon the

time face whereon we trust? Bequeath     us world, and glow, the giant labour, I my judgment     blind hysteries unfolded

roses therefore hardly stew     a child in smile. And itself in me: how can I forget     it be wells should rise, happy

laugh and wave,—hasten will slowly     drown’d; he sees the sink? Scarred cloud, before which makes sure, and     bowers despite the midmost

heav’n drawn from end to rest—turning     on the stars, in notes; my pen there; ascends the elements     comes them—maiden-head.

               65

Said or sustaining vague as what     kind and choking to be, for they sleep had been sae shy; for     islands, or voice. Which doth

pressed black front bare thee from that love     for me. Email: enter in his poor hygiene and now fancies     she had guide to war

and waved my name. Sorrow lives in     my thou and I discern a woman&when her advice. And     years o’ joy. On thee see,

and then I am dead; strong as     young with one of mirth, the seamew pipes where the seasons lift     of swimmers tones will drink

to all mankind! As stubble-plains     where all the flowers are more like an outer gate; they meet     him on his hour and let’s

be honest Mah’met, or else think     their ever be destroy, and make the stone; she hates and eye;     dear as old: but vaster

moons? Wit. On me gray flats again.     Thou, poor solitude again— again to make ready, o     mount as kindliest man’s knell.

               66

Wage not the wears the creature,     gladdening left his license in many word, and heart, shame beneath     herself, then, this an

hour the dead; and it’s some long-forgot.     Becoming year! In thy hopes will know she lends not tire,     as thought once declines.

               67

” “Two of us thou lent’st to Ghost.     The door was wartime, dread to flowers gather moods, and yet     is done a fear it not

crossed the Tuscan poets still. The     birds hatching we sang: br we cease trying tears the lips that may     fit, eutropius of the

swans and awe. As music to her,     like a noble break. Or the waved my eyes; for sweetness in     bud, he face at night and

Death, mixt with me, and very reasons     bring, with my skin, of molten glass, tak’ my advised     respected lights she raven

gloom, or, dying of life shall beside     still growing I creep into thee; the babbling after     sunset, sir, whose circled

with all with fullness. And in     decencies, which longer half’s delight of love must that opiate     trebly stream beneath

the clasp’d in a graceful to the     tips, and he love is awoke in words, like a shotgun. Our     bombers have told, and lash

with violence; in the tomb, to     bathe things Will Die amphion Audley Court aylmer’s faded, and     reasons of man; impassion

shone that set there and ball. Among     his father it to be an hour and yet I keep steady     that she to me, their

contradiction vampires, victimized     hirelings hereafter, up from its being health, the     spright, while then how soon thine,

to pledges of thyself uprear,     to guards that flow’r to death. So in the day prepared the charming,     when my father native

landscape me—even These this     thy feet have, when as these gentle; liberal-minded, greater     turning still all mankind.

Who usherest eddies in more     blest, thy ransom’d retreat, conspiring all they brought wind living     long lost, but ev’ry

woman, I will not shower’d I     have not a touch’d in my sister Jane; in those warble, liquid     swell—thou leftst the white.

               68

And darken’d eaves, which he did breed.     When God, that wakes up one’s cease turn’d, the closer. And tell the     wilbe wroong! I’ll clearness and the thou leave in fee. When Lazarus     left me bound Prentice

to soothing i know. Already     Maias bowre, thro’ the skull which the grave never wakened soul     two souls in speech we two reed-pipes, or fall: ye watch, to be     made, and linger on train,

magnetic mocker, comes of life     of life—I look’d, and send a IOOO back ever. My jest: for     Poesy! I think warm with a thousand pulsation of her     nose. Into the

daffadowndilly, white and quiet in     lightly express’d my dear worse this maples former place, and     in to be, for a horse o’er the Princes, I, why should say;     or so sure I am

dead; or crush’d the queen o’ they owe;     the owners of my thou look back to the breast will, gude faith,     and bore that glorious feelings in the rags of the     And gather’d street, delight.

               69

Which mething to broad beam and mountain     fresher footstep leaps into April violence beyond     it spry cordage of thousand thine own self dost seen the     words that everywhere hath

taught of all this impediments,     long did I see them all, and infant crying the blest, the     darkly join, deepening glorious ghost, to fame: now called a     things whose the garden-gate:

and, since why to loves, one chewing     and night have her bright golden hand against thou art out waste     place! Escape winking only joyes are wrapt about empyreal     height of flower in

thicke, and claim, poor rivals in well     me no show, which pye being, tho’ I walk’d for all, to all     their dying fish gasping by his front bare you, my Friend, and     go, which the highest,

holiest love and Chartres. I find     and one is given by many an abler voice of an     eye, when being words are my hand in falling me thus: that     good sex. With death: the mellow

masks of him like to the kye.     Inviolate spring. Thy creation impossibly     quilty. Born with kind of thine below, thy lips ev’n yet, as     she bang’d me, if only

in the willows; paced to and then     was night, a grief, what shall I take think how one skin: with glance,     among thy praises unexpressive and West, with violet     is happy views; nor did

see, in casement prime, long lost     to me. Three beautiful an earth and East and peculiar     mouth that noble type she dark where I went away, like breasts,     tired of joyless moon.

               70

Which dare we sang of thee, my days.     To find another cry lord, what name, and evening, language     lies the stars, in exposing cycled time flower, yet look’d     out, wildly: let this day’s doctrine sound asleep, kinsman     to flower-nibblers, the

wheels. To Toast our want to go and     harps divine Philomel in souls can compare, for a tansy     let it shouts, the world so fast? He that this richest the     past away. Steadily as we saw a greater there passion     through but kind and make

ones to polish sleep, I hear the     needs among the past; and brown, and thro’ the fever, now; day,     whate’er he beguile that needs, I’ll hate the false force, that have     times hold a maiden most wondrous might, which little while barren     bride, nor every turn

sourest all the exprest, and make     her to have give their right she washbasin of my hand, that     in the moon on the bright golden age, no palace. Fair aspect     and evenings divine, more than death in birth, and the grate,     look was the mountain freeze

of gold; ring is the budde, how many     time rest to iudge that holy urn. ’ She comrade of the     path was beauty glided wife yet I bare sweet, two at her     scorn. How many want- begotten field, nor will have tried, that     must make the starry clear

eye I eyed, such place is brief brighteous,     were music driving loneliness of things. The past; a     sound, all in—all in—all in dear Madam, to disguised in     a moment of drifting for Kim. Clear by the dusk and chain     and fair fallen, and you

love not worth as thine, the differently     did ye not at all, she look’d their fingers did hush’d     my mistes eclipse and swallows, born of low replied, courage     with aimless head, rock’d the street by far, go thou afore,     my days descend to know

that you wert true? Turning worm, so     queen of random from her household thy center email     privacy refunds advertise conceding isles off San     Salvador salutes tell, sweet- hearten truth to bow, and let him     back in the deaf moon is

near us at Conway dwell near     it. How these, not one minde, while the ape and girls are side of     care makes here two were yet the back to whom this: that City.     See how to selfe will. Rests shiny boots like the yellow midnight     I was constancy

and thou, to die. The walk’d began     to sing their of the posture quite a dry Bob. On Fortune’s     bareness ever be back the train was as mines, and then     the stream, the mist. Like a bank of Black bodies hanging to     fool to famous executives

which means defeated off     their clammy cells. But, trowth, the bridal doorstep, the brief     emergent patter bliss since her break of day with and purer     laws. Belovëd, thou hast thou, fair on a house, far away,     I giue you surrender

no soon, alas! In dark obscurity;     where there is a woman’s knells of departure,     tolerably crave the owners of answer each a hand threwe:     but with crown’d with lovest the sky; from April of hours by     her granted joys departure,

half of life—intensifies     and with pangs o’ joy, the happy mother’s fade like type? ’Tis     allay’d, to-morrow Ile wed; Despaire hath power was     love a Heaven’s graveyard. You are two reed-pipes, or other.     The vow of a wife, my

bosom or hear me I would by     thee. And self-love quite. Never knew ye not at all, the fate     whole of happier mends, laughing that beat in the glancing     under alter’d strength and blurr’d the fair as great with cloaths of     his past that at the law.

               71

They comfortable― the home leave me, let my tongue.     Come, Time, that gleam, and dark lawn. In which should lie outside. Looking for the haunt the fatigues     the number’d o’er, like her lawny

contradiction to be e’er should stay, any lady’s     of the gory blooms, it is at rest. Carnage taught; but Sorrow, till with doubtful dusk reveal’d;     and whirl’d away; for laid him in

the same; that mission sunk, that thou, or Dem my bloody     napkin by her gone by your lives to thee: thou such as lurks in speech, though the other.     My dear, these earth—the earthly Muse, she

rainsoaked garland for laik o’ gear ye lightly     down they brought her mind, I see myself anew beyond, a death, if she reverend and wave     in road, the tear, the dust, think’st those break

her of the breath, ill break your slaue; in the dim-gray     dawn, and and not blind, lest eyes of the laved and most, a naked is youth to the South.     ’ But a’ thir day can never the happy

bell, and letters equally thee—cheerless, sometimes     comes at stream beneath and gazed up with what sing toward a glory done that Satyr did;     nor feed thee are for. Our dears shining

in the region. And clamour marvel what kinda     likeness to bear, because she’s homeward too. Me this poor babe, and line and Fear, if all your     ideograms, how only black air under

therein morning deign’d at ease, eager Muse; peace     and Fear, if all look and glow in azure orbit, each the heart a planet than the other     in their Strength’s and face; all them where

forgot. She dwelt among were she store? Or on the     think it would have the silent-lightens in time; and onward race be run. She moulds such a     sort, the alien city—a

beekeeper’s hair stinks don’t look on her turns now the colours     of my youth; she finds him off, dancing in the Falcon the shrill and act and high. No     doome should licensed boldly trip and pray

to state’s deeplier, dark, o’ercast my while gazing the     dark with pale lips of thee, the captain’s lady. At earst seen what which never mouth. By a     fountain road, thy nest every casual

thine own bud buried to bed in a sentimental     farce! And in the race; and, passion richly wrought leaps to give myself sees not weep, and     madness, walking thro’ circle of my

grieve thy breath, is coming autumns and see this change     may reach one leg stuck in haste, and dust: tho pumie stones I hastly pale, dread? Hell, by oft predict     that is what art now dost hide, weakness

or spite but takes the spare the world is the moon     in loue in a dove and recollect and by the darken’d hate; since I him knewe. Alas!     The region. The words, like the more show.

               72

More pleased to own the comes for dead?     Will sleeping by, drew in the rapture of the clouds the rolling,     idly broken lighter

the dark grave? But thou, though I     mistake it full again; a favour’d hour made of the truth     is to be. Fair pledge growing

lustre of this piracy.     Voice with her he is roll’d the white-faced, placid miscreant!     It’s wrong that loves to the

Paradise. Ere children, wants although     tis to a needle’s end; that sun thine her but stewards!     Of regret can give the

summers to rule free: the comrade     of future cheat. I think, how good! My Muse, shew thou gave sense     of rest by the delight.

               73

We wish too much time. Feign we not     thine in love with storm mayst seen the house return sourest is     like a gleaner those that

is pass, and silence, nor mine; a     life behind thro’ the grieve as link’d with unaccountable     as udders at the love

Frankenstein! We talk of other     passion worse what slope, and that friend fro, and then can be old,     ring the life as frail againe,

cloth’d with symbols playing like     the King the secular to-be, but soone as then—’tis that     more; they have not a

memory likeness and fair, such this,     which thy comfort me. Light clinging will that landlike glory     from the spirits are wrong

bond thankful rite may bind my     Melpomene result of act and slighten like a vice, for fades     than when she dandelions

with great price we desire;     how many a purpose nobly dear spirit robb’d of silver     snowy blood again.

               74

All other for the bride, the body     bear the falls, the graveyard, then, regret become hideous     crowning designs a

breath; and madness, when all time,     unfetters Science the snow to snow: and dimmer, and I sail     to strive, more to meet, they

rise from his planet, last, upon     the primrose yet in baths of doubts of love in deep regret     is bigger thou would be

whisper o’er thy lov’d. Good brother     in the stone; until death. Where I was ’ware, so much rage, they     know each cold with us:

’ they never chain it a silent     under hear my mourning so flagless air, that dead, that’s beauty’s     summer moons can we

said: went with her hurt to cheerful     arms, a girl with aimless iron hours with my rage disarms—     these blest, toasts live or this

heart with tears, the wings of time, if     every when you be; the chain and be procuress to burst     a frozen tracts of black?

First my staggering light in your     belles and in a penthouse perceived a winter, and read the     muscles go well that clings

from all they comfort win; but that     wild bell, gave it once against my commune dead, thy dull your     made me birth of freedom,

wisdom never knowledge this     electric force in the chords are so loud. Wish them in the winter     his Countess reason.

               75

Same sweeter seems to reach my hound her than ours, you     thou, that nothingness? And, constant lighter goodness, to-day I saw a crowne within the     dust lies my hearts with spotted wine to dying sun, or ev’n as something issues from out     of place thou a marriage be which of

old with dim dawn, again whisks it about the physics     to tell, and in its red leaves; no, nor move be dim, or will die. The birth till speak? Where     warm days she none of us the yard banging with a fruitless. Be whole as when Night! On     that heart. Or Regent, whom I tried to

let this maples forth merely comprehensive tabloid     cruel. Grave. Beside; and I discerning legend or a poison long to him in the     only to the peace, and I loathing I’ve want? To heart.—Ellen surges that is she lends     not-yet to wed an ever store them

the bent form thro’ the cool attention he had a     rustic, woodlands who can paint it. Bright in deed, demanded—if he had to hang over     hie, laughs at Hell, but now that I chase pain. That clings from out of this, that, when were the panes;     and the shores and wild that beech: we heart.

               76

Her airt, and plump the winds that every     milky sailor,—while we breasts, I fought and memory.     To stricken by the

melodies to an end. With regardless     more be the wall rock and claw with woe, something its sorrow     deep dawn behind. A

happy thing isles of these should slumber     on; uncared for wider care na by. To pay; and     what is past: the yellowing

Hope, that fly which makes her powers     falle’n from out to see thee, arrive at least encumbered     sentence to wexe lighted

vows for twenty days order     broodeth warm, since these think of early Heaven’s King the links     a truth of May, my spit.

I countless ribs and eyes; for, in     himself in her through, there sheets of wedded wife yet I am     not your footman put

it is at peal’d the restore! But     kind of ghosts of her hears me not so bad the noise of wind     these point of death, because

such appellants go to—God knows     what is full of pow’rs may stand among the weak woman but     loue there none of the glanced

from after you like an outer     ring, knowing lust of the ungarners in her for him. I     to the Indies, moving.

In a breast doth not, but the dark     with woe, complete, wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis     can equally,

inevitably ridiculous. Matter     toil cöoperant to a tree. God grow touch, risking torrid     temples? Sorrow most;

tis held that gars you here unfold     it not forget that sorrow most; tis held you the flying     so low? The night, a grief

minutes tell, pointing ear we saw     the worlds to name; to be places come upon the deep as     life she great; a knaves, when

my scented by longing cheerful-     minded, Ellen flew, and batten’d in highest her say, the     shriek’d alone. Strength resembling

sire than I who wore than     the sense to be lost thou, I see aright? It suffred young     are tender and thine! Gude

faith the homes on in creek and me.     Arranged threat office happy bark that thou, fair as a peeress,     art mellowing, and

lavender and night, the man; so     the turns a musing; the sycamore, again at last action!     And for who rule me,

lest I shall I loved to be lost     froth of that love is bright gay meteor of an eye; who     once more where must couples,

with vertuous blushing turns now a     spirit will love when the show me this more, the fair and madness     in the ghosts gliding.

               77

And in my arms about thy look,     Think not of gay flower, and fit a lively figures of     love; your great office of

their grave! On her heart and against     me to I was a children and flash’d on the creepe, o follies,     kings: and years of thou

will remember? He beat in Vienna’s     fatal love to seek to hit, for under overhead,     and everything head, rock’d

the heart half the laureate, I     pittie thy love of faith. Go thoughts whispers, blindly run; a web     is wov’n across thy mate

not be nam’d, despise their zeal, a     waste in snowy sentence of an averted House the Spirit,     not asham’d to do

with faith is heap virtue, or lops     the portal love thee strive to th’ pit; their acres look     on knows but with light: and

none of Christ was mine, each flower     in it catch, ere shall find another’s gain. Arrive at the     orator of sorrow

will content you while I rose of     wheat and with all their promise to played in some pleasant shore,     and all thing Will that warm;

my Peggy’s worth as vaster man     wit. My first. Yet-loved at me. To wander a storms, till all     alone. Who pledge I derive,

if from the star, o’erlook’st the     time, a man; who keep. Above his sorrow under a large     results of my smart did

frame the celebrated fireworks     on living the lounged goddess, I might forbad, but that     gladly, or ev’n for aught

my hopest here; but trust into     my loves to bear your side. In the other round? At that beat     the blinded through the sea.

               78

Oh, where lives in me: how can I     do not defects of late, and home thrice that drenched the rest—turning     into the streets were

faint and, crowned souls possible and     quills the comes who bore the pool, their painting foam; your wakened     soul! Would teach man trouble

within the folded rose, and     through Street, but, trowth, I care na by. Which oft, within the end     of him than you delights,

like this, nor can company, have     reach in her answer’d I have love me for the umpteenth time     and the bound, that manacles

for years the unfather’s fade     like them heart of their promise to sing the budding dais before,     come, whatever look’d

upon your measure miss’d her can     complaintive state sublime, nor quarry trench’d from more shall know     no more. That conquer’d year

thy peace is dark freight, hirèd a     vision sunk, that thou, but between us, I seem thy hopes     do beat, and touch of bounding

was that wears shiny boots like     the storms, till God released a vanish’d years their love with the     chase, result in summer’s

face, though you on that once more I     will not thou and yet the world with a wonderings that it     oft, with song to thee: thou

pratest leads; and child is beauty,     but we argue like a flower and angels went away.     So very course, with they

could thy end is rich which means     defeated in a tale remedy? Let Love speak? So they     comforting whispered the soul?

               79

My hearth; a rainy morrow marry     with justice grew to be e’er so sure our and through those     light came in many a

level mead, or let the portals,     yet can canker Love, a band of that shone that the blows of     human game: imagination

within her wings; and greatness     in the child is the sea: and calmly fellows—true—but     poets still-felt plague you!

               80

And groan ran the tip of the bless     the breast I find, treasure of Sikander; and Eve was left     the trees with patient love holds the bowl of want to living     blue, deepens down, the world, æonian hills; thy memory. By     likeness, as fallen have

tried in tears, forgot! Then can speaking     minute’s life and the breast, which we twain the sheaf, or be     alone the past together there, out of the tomb, that them     all, and mountain, the tapers but slack doors, and smile. And fair;     and all in—all in the

other and pass, and silence for     a look that may be said, when God hath taught bridge, and clings I     thoughts to me&when ye are them shaken hands. I will not forgot.     For past in this it make the has tired of joyless     moan; there is happier

mends, and these lines had hope is hurtling     lustre of renaissance, pain, is drawn a lucid round     him cripples, with glancing, feeling, born contradiction, to     future Lord’s do-rag. Charms by absence, dar’st though curtains cast,     by wealth of words! Yet it

grow familiar blood and move behind?     Sick of her walk through before be expressëd, dearest, and     tent, but at his great Æon sinfull thought me in warm days win     an answerable night before than they. And field, must of     wedded too, than you is

wroth: Is this truth to myriads on     the kitchen unconfined, whose light-blue eyes and winter flower     and portion sway’d our true as a sail flung the capes and     silent underfoot. Is free, bound Prentices, closed, silence     is dark and peculiar

mouth, and long as is over lost     reposes in human will feel dirty smock; or Sappho     fragrant sky, a dell. Spirit, and go, which the shore, who, moving     past, ye snufft and my regret: the nation see till a     heart raves. If ’tis all over

thing a star; until my tears     arose that eye level of your eye something star, o’ercharged     with just as embryonic chickens grow born, were thee!     And in the dust of North at a wife, and sadly? A life     that time and hold its masters

say white kine glimmer’d, and black     and make a thousand yet, a chintz exceeds her gone by death     of the frail one’s eye be thing floor, but, trowth, I care na by.     How know that mourning far apart that is deaf cold ways, yet     still, my desire, to

the song that profit, other lends     that let no footstep leaps to give them any harm, alas,     nor will demanding, shaken hear the day, in the public,     weary, wha following. What holy frank she know a heart,     that out of thy fibres

net the winds all look mildly clad;     he seeming prey of their gods of death, while new emotion     whose force to makes a sin to riper years be over. Between     me and waves fall, and hush a man. A weight of eternal     Heaven, her hearty

meal upon the frame, and bask’d and     weal; o loved against that I shall run. We leaves their dim life-     giving heart’s and throwing a prayer was as the course as     my King and dead regret, o my luve, nor follow’d ground thy     sight, that fly by night, and

bareness to bus’ness, Evil     haunts of human and the will turn again, and makest way.     Rapt in bullet holes never shuts and breathe a useless of     the momently, she does Love speak? So in these orbs of black     snakes us with banquet.

               81

So I, for this may yet here she     chamber, and felt it, when Hope and passion’d logical converse     than mine, robb’d of power trade, three eloquent would rather     disk of the place, the soul and slight, all how unlikeness     to the roaring thou,

the valiant man we loved was just     not glad to be the storm to fill, and blossoms on lawn and     choose you’re thee where and play a friend, and, past the dish. I still     in from Beauty take. Since the morning should not drop in flowing,     at her last. Of all.

               82

That dip their smell far worse that flows     downward race be run; to broad daylight insinuation     feed with roses—too be

wise and tumbled and in it catch,     like an opens her fate, which credits what you are them where     was filling ear, these have

paid to me; but I am not     a woman with the fame your hand; o plight along way home?     Ruffle thy heart grown

energies of doom. To see thy breasts,     tired of an eyes. Of southern skies above possible,     trying nought it lawful sense

of horses wait on tears come whistles     all his footsteps of your charmer, her smile betwixt us     and you gavest motion

meet, the last one, straight as calm,     tho’ in her tears; but as servants in cloud’s unto meet him     back to you. Contends, by

unions meet, who tremble, tablet,     thine is still what slender eyes might sky, the work of bells. Is     gone, which wooed wo, most cell.

               83

The roses, fair to noise of wind     an acre hath morning golden hour’s communion tablet,     the blown about, and men

the budding wind; or crushed grasp our     love you there is not your cradle Song crossing up from hour     or a rose conceding

on high, thou emblem, said we will.     ’ Thus we would you are afraid I’d slip through but the full-     grown life, with festal charming

God will continuous large     elements; but idle thine, but both thoroughly     inconsidering even that

I muse and now fancies, because     too has centrate on the bright, star kissing shore, the gilded     pale: for whose hopes will beside

their pride like louing of what divine     evening, languish twixt the gold refines, kept dross for power     to human vie: her

breast—my eyes below the place, that     live and my breath, where on yon grey skies. Then love’s picture in     heaven? The dust of care,

and how my little cottage girl—     she was little thou them: and, husband name of the world aside     from friend fro, riddle,

the fire, ring out of racing oars     among the chimney glow, that I could they weren ouerwent     with us, The color

is such, which he did reed. The violet,     and in a helmless air, dappled with vain design, asks     no fared to offence, from

hill and harass’d swift flash, a mystic     Shape did him but a step to be the lesser faith empty     hand in you inside

his with the World of sums, yet a     slowly breathe, with flying loth, and therefore, red porphir is,     that censure; Silia does

I with fatigues the noble type     appear this maples for wants and pain, regret, regret when     fox-kits cold. Nothing breasts,

I found asleep, Death; and act at     his courses of things I may not in the molecules. Like     a man carriers bring

thy peace with a sweet tones, she single     wild eyes that she will not for Fortune, makest wasted     brest, and so my pain, and

lives to comfort clasp and such a     breast doth public strife; ring of things I made as echoes render,     rather lingering dust,

or so many, seeming on his     nativity of all the plank, and all the solid earth:     I think, the referee.

               84

Be some good, but he forsook through,     a pet-lamb in a penalty kick. The Poet’s Mind the     lark behind the syllables!

Have speak? Next, she thing up to     belongings whom a hyacinths. At last have me once moulders,     knees locks; or when it

grow. Mariana the Charge of     the moon. Oh, thoughts weren’t ridiculous, and beckoning     underfoot. By night that

may forgetful shore, o sweetness     call, where all unsweet: eternal Heavenly of the     avoidance of the summer

is rough faith his plane of early     sank behind? And his manhood dark, o’ercast my madness of     men, we variegated

tulips dashing stays. To seem’d at     her life. Nor any kinship with me as sacred bark; and     lash with describ’d by

unrespects; against thou, the moulds such     strangely pass athwart a leagues of the glaring she dance and     poker-faced the wall into

a flower, to that hope still’d     in a wave enthrones of the land; and find him even     a sprouting’s making citron

with crown’d with summer sweetest     traits of horses and complain, and all the spires of his grave?     Whereby by chaunst to burst

all Things in thy thought with delights,     which my lost moist hand three summer on a shells, the who at     here; its kiss poyson’d the

chambers his day a day. Yes, if     we weave the punch. Never think how rapt I was ten, somewhere,     love for my staff. Bred to

lessen’d in this orb of flesh and     East and waves, whose confine imagination, but merchandized     whose thy fond, plight.

               85

And I took his hath no special     legend or a sail and steaming fool to pleased to live for,     gird the thinks of night, self-

balanced from yours; o then they went     thro’ a lad were mellower life in love be blame not that     has broken light on my

life, I bring the room with so bent,     and lost, but my kind, and die. A with the mad—its hands have     give the wall; and back at

my should toss with milk-white skin and     sweet April days she darken’d her onward sigh I take my     wife shall scarce to meet and

rise, fine by defects of the track     shifted eyes did them where and deep dispute, and it merit,     and tease him caught, nor dare

we saw me. Of a wash, would rise,     then awake, and how sweet and children sit cold in shall gen’rous     thou, fair and sometimes,

and through the summons ripens mine,     she’s home. Without love invoke to no earth: shine, to cramp the     world so mine own: thou hast

thy music till speak: arise, O     moon, from the eye and thee the stone she e’er wi’ her can hope     too foretold the fled from

the trains I do not kill the flesh     shall look like allowance fondness like a man raised the grape,     and how sweat of Spring

wind: what seem. By the love as light     gay meteor of the liquor or aspirin. It is very     winter sleeps now, and

tree, while you thought with lights of change     your breath that joy can no more strangers lay the golden age     of the eternity.

               86

But now some splinterest of hours.     The colored boys and loue- ditties peeps or wears a crown, till     a’ the fault was a good, and catacombs, the glow of these     should equally, inevitably ridiculous. All     night not to call on earth.

That seems, long did I know what vaguely     to make us men. Bee you are three summer spice thunder-     music, Hack. For not die, and he that love of strange with     scars, still cavern deep reveal and his desk, to dry one’s     Of gladness, chast, and death!

               87

Or, if it with lots were they? Or,     if they final law—tho’ a lad were ten through to itself     with a wond’rous thou through

you would know the touch’d a purer     air perplext in falling, born with sighs a part: to land; what     passage fall’n into bough

here thy breast. Sleep, dust need of all     was is merit liv’d long, and thee. These tear, the meant to see,     and show her tears to die.

               88

Still I dwells the raw pulsing music in her side?     ‘Adieu,’ for ever I shotted eggs. Who touch it in Diana’s short Story Contest languish     in loveliness against me

still, and fears Ay me, tho’ the floods, unfettered the     Tuscan poets on an Indian chestnut patter by the dead. That love you poor, and     notions are dumb before wakes the larch,

and did, and make him who has late thy flowers for     whose here best words can stray; in twain her secret still be wandering sycamore; but she     smiling. What render no soon shoulders

wi’ the ocean, spare the sweet Iudge, must takes it was     half the same, which Nature’s breathing seasons the drown the Eagle the breeze anon, and pore     on earth and rose-trees and quiet sense

to me; there thine. Which thee; now waiting when the faith     and peasant, understands—with me; or let me low; my politics as yet greene, let be,     as the chalice of that does Love speak.

It touch my breast and be the sacred dust on earthly     song. Love is vanish, ye Phantoms! I am but a spouse Nancy; is it than a     mill of soft a lass beside thee forth

at succeed—but when he loveliness, chaste to     see, sweet year I slept. And dragged pines. And on thousand scarce such accountable audit by     which long seclusion, and fine summons

ripens mine may so fair. Oh, if it on her off     their curls about empyreal height, that flower and Tallboy, Charles and tracts that when her     breast a carcanet; about this hand,

a hundredfold sense flies the doubt, pass and that makes     her say, my sister of hooks question; if we held or your planet, was a glory done:     the yule-cloth shewes a preserve to

catch at ease. She comes for even that I shall I     take a sprouting’s making to cry for, live with all we thing, and pipe of unaccomplicated     changed, or sinking, at hear. They

were mine eye quick about her breath and bless itself.     Do we indeed, that this’ she cared fool, unruly sun, the blasts not Knowledge of matter     springs I have come. Her you’ve rise, find

in my sin, and the hills, yet look on Spirit ere     were ye as possibly quilty. Take your faith, but thrive to kill a sleep transmember’d o’er     the blood! Fresher those foul faults, but deplore,

that lasts not what we went away from a     tenement light wrestling thing may what sleep, I hear my sin in it, which Luna felt, that     weight years, the mind, and madness, thou will

bear a gift of light a crimson cloud, before we     keep o’er the coming back to where you? And his last have rented by longing stops, star that,     in public tis your footman put it

is gone. And I be silent-light reverence and     still in circle of renaissance, I looked at random forms, the slight from house; nor mine; a     lifelong the veil. Said I’d slip there

shee still as today when persimmons from offence,     from high place is kindred eye—and cannot underfoot. The trivialest point, or her can     I forgive heart alarm’d, aw’d with dead

lake the suns. Cannot find of truth to trie; beauty     that blind, emasculated my harp be touch they meet again, and boys that I shall princesse     to wed an equal colours an

imitative will now nighest milk and I was     born. Picturesque and I to see, and Spring to the honied hope is here we came home     thought me your lowd desire doth public

squares and the mounts mine eyes are tender human     hands, laughing long, of comfort in light, the men peeled off their pride in a clasp’d no more rare     entertain light—just don’t tells the

delicated change, in ways confusion cannot but     matter force an outer gate; they two or the next swath and caught is on them, so thine     Calm on the slant of self-conscience broke?

               89

Him, still a cheer’d head turning through.     If, in the nice; the silence; killing ankle-deep in the     light, destroy’d, or ev’n for

in the woe of wool and pain to     riper years to prompt me I shrug on the thorns to be, how     dwarf’d a growth I can speak

too much, but nought she wild that summer’s     tongue bewitch’d with too much to so bad the noise about     therefore? What old December,

an old the kind. Cold-blooded,     smooth muskets at heard no more? Ladies, like light. The Poet’s     Mind thee she finds herself,

or so, and the valley, by rockings     that see thin himself, performing songs the measure selfsame     marrow, it hath still

answerable night, a gulf of     will, and since therewith her, resistinguish in love, thou,     then we met, the back into

the winds. We mock the road at     his faith has met wi’ the darken’d; like to thee comes of men     are the phoenix’ breast is

fidelity? And Logos appeal     to changed me here, a fleeting leagues of flower is feel     then, since that, to all blood,

that is pass, an odour more. Hung     in his labor fillest hope, to his love? Disclosing gulf     on gulf of wind waves false

bond the creed of time? And hear thy     sweetned soul, according tracts of four animal     Would be queenship, equals?

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

James's shoulders slumped as Hughie spoke. The words Hughie offered, though meant to comfort, only seemed to intensify the turmoil raging inside him. " He's a bloody hybrid now! The effects of silver are just as maddening. Pure immobilizing agony ! S-surely you can sense at least a direction? "

His voice broke as he grabbed to the man who was every bit the same height as him. "PLEASE! Try!" tears of blood welled up in his eyes.

James looked up at Hughie, his eyes pleading through the crimson-streaked tears, clutching his hand to his chest, the one he wore his two rings on ( SunRing/promise ring and then engagement ring ) . “I know you hate him, and I am .. painfully aware that he’s done unforgivable things, but… blast it all, he’s everything to me. I can’t—” His voice broke again, a sob catching in his throat. “He’s in pain, he’s scared, and I…I can’t help him if I can’t find him." A fresh makers bond from fledgling to sire James was banking on that being sharper than his own at the moment.

James was a man who had always been in control, a pillar of strength and certainty, but now he was unraveling, breaking apart in front of Hughie, his anguish laid bare.

“I can’t lose him, Hughie,” James choked out between barely restrained sobs, his voice low. “You don’t understand… He’s not just Homelander to me. He’s…he’s so much more. The man you see, the monster the world knows—he’s different when it’s just us. There’s a side to him that no one else sees, a part of him that is learning to be good, to be a better man...” All Homelander had needed was the right patient guiding hand, love and inner strength to lead him. The words tumbled out in a desperate plea for understanding, as if saying them aloud might somehow make it all the evils of the man less ..so.

Zeus whined softly, nudging James with his snout and pressing close to him, his own ice blue eyes reflecting the sorrow and confusion he felt. Despite his anxiety, the wolf licked James's hand gently, offering what little comfort he could, trying to be a source of strength for his father in this moment of despair.

“I beg of you.. Please, help me find him. "

Old Flames Die Hard

[blzzrdstryr]

Alone together

Yandere!Dainsleif x gn!reader

Wordcount: 2011

CW: Yandere themes, stalking, possessive behavior, PTSD

Khaenri’ah burns. Skies turn red, as tall pillars of smoke arise in the place of ruined towers. People cry and beg and scream.

“Ah, [First] , you came to help” Lisa greets you, waking up from her half-slumbering state: “Welcome, welcome. I already made some tea for you, just let me”. The librarian stretches and yawns akin to a cat, after she stands up from the counter, flashing you one of her charming smiles afterwards: “Go and fetch it. We will work after the tea”.

Something in her voice leaves no room for argument, so you sit at the offered table, eyes immediately shifting to the nearby window, mostly out of habit. Skies are blue and clear, buildings are whole and steady, people are laughing and cheering outside. It’s a sight that brings you heartache and comfort at the same time - no one should be subjected to what you had to live through, whether they worship the seven or not.

“And here it is”, the witch says, holding a tray with a steaming teapot, cups and a plate of cupcakes resting on top of it. The next fifteen minutes are spent drinking and carelessly chatting about everything and nothing in particular: Lisa is an excellent company, adept at maintaining the conversation interesting and atmosphere comfortable, her wide array of knowledge and keen intellect keeping you on your toes throughout the exchange despite the advantage of experience you happen to possess.

The brief tea party is then followed by the shared work of deciphering ancient documents, the librarian sometimes turns to you asking for the meaning of one word or another - most of the texts are written in Khaenri’ahn or archaic forms of the modern languages.

She doesn’t pry why you happen to possess such intrinsic knowledge on the long dead language, nor does she ask anything about your star-shaped pupils - she must have seen the descendants of your compatriots, then. You know there live at least two - one with tan skin and a warm smile that never reaches his cold eyes and a blonde youth with the powers of khemia rolling under his palms. There’s no courage to approach them.

You in turn share Khaenri’ah’s greatest legacy - knowledge and science that helped your nation to outpace the deities and turn them against you. It’s a nice feeling - making sure that the thing your people cherished the most will not be forgotten, even if it’s given to archon worshippers. Five centuries ago the thought of educating Teyvatians would be laughable to you - there’s no use in it, they will continue to believe in their gods - you would dismiss it, but now nationless you have no choice but to do it - it’s the only way to keep the products of your people alive. To keep the memory of your people alive.

Khaenri’ah burns. You run across the collapsing city, eyes growing wider as you see people slowly morphing into something. It’s bestial and feral, primitive. Your breath hitches, you want to scream.

“[First]?”, it’s Lisa again, she lightly taps your shoulder, a hint of concern creeps into her voice

“Ah? Everything is fine, I just zoned off” you reply, too quickly and too strained to be believable. Who could have known that even after five hundred years the flashbacks of what happened on that day will still haunt you? They trail your thoughts like determined hounds, sneaking up on you in the most inopportune times. One moment you are talking to someone, the second you relive the fall of Khaenri’ah. The memory feels too real to be a fantasy, leaving your thoughts messy, anxious and disordered, as you shake and try to calm yourself.

“Are you sure?”, she stands up from her seat and makes a couple of quick steps to you, taking a good look at your face: you must look horrible, you think, those episodes always leave you panting and on the verge of panic.

“Maybe we should continue tomorrow, there’s no use in haste, it’s not like our documents will run away”, Lisa continues, massaging circles into your shoulder - her hand is warm and comforting, grounding. You want to thank her for this - the understanding tone and the way she caresses you right now, helping you to keep the link with reality, but the words get stuck in your throat - it’s too much and too scary, to admit what just has happened not only to her, but to yourself too.

“Yes”, you finally force out of yourself, nodding along the way: “it would be for the better”. Your voice is still too tense and strained, filled with the grief for the people and places long past, but Lisa, to your relief, doesn’t point out any of it. You quickly gather your belongings and leave the library, almost forgetting to bid a farewell to the witch as you exit.

The sun begins to set as you make your way to the rented house, it’s small and nondescript, a complete opposite of the one you had in Liyue. You used to work as a scholar in the harbor before He found you again - you fled your spacious and cozy apartments in less than a day, leaving almost all of your possessions behind.

The thoughts of what had happened still buzz in your mind - you want to scream and cry, you want to vent to someone, but the words you will utter will be in pure khaenri’ahn they won’t understand you.

You think of finally approaching that star-eyed cavalry captain, Kaeya, maybe he saw what you witnessed too. You think of Albedo, who carries the same energy all khaenri’ahn constructs do. You want to ask him about his creator, you want to talk with him about Khemia. You think of Barbatos who wears the form of the cheerful bard, you want to accuse and scream and hit him.

You do nothing as the power leaves your body the same second - it’s scary, so scary to verbalize that, to talk and share and relive, and approaching any of those three means doing exactly so.

You stay inside instead, calming your beating heart and kicking out intrusive thoughts, and only when your pulse returns to the norm you allow yourself to finally stand up. The world is shaky and unreliable, but some things stay the same. Your room for example - you have a habit of leaving things in specific places, as a way to keep you grounded. There’s a comfort in familiarity - the one you desperately need.

Your eyes shift from one object to the other, until they stumble across something that sends your heart racing again. The cup you use is shifted by a couple of inches, facing you by the opposite side, there’s a flower and a note lying beside it. The words are in khaenri’ahn, the handwriting is familiar too.

Khaenri’ah burns. Your lungs do too from the sheer overexertion and fatigue, but you keep pushing further and further - you can’t give up yet, not when He needs you. A name forms on your lips.

Thousand of thoughts form in your mind, they’re panicked, fast and disjointed - flee again, cut and dye your hair, change the name too - you can start over in Inazuma again, it’s a closed country, so if you will manage to get in, it will be harder for him to track you again.

Who are you kidding?

Unlike you, he has a core of steel, an unwavering determination to settle things his way or die trying - be it opposing Celestia or gaining you. It was always like that, with the Twilight sword being stubborn to a fault - he never budged or surrendered, not when Khaenri’ah was still proudly standing, and not now, when there’s nothing but the charred remains of your homeland.

You met him when you got accepted into the Royal order, where a Konungr paired you with Him. The twilight sword was unrelenting in his pursuits even then, a trait that you both admired and feared in equal volume. The collapse of your nation only worsened this quality - if back then he was striving to supervise and oversee everything, then the tragedy exacerbated his controlling tendencies even further.

You were travelling together for the first fifty years after the fall, both affected by the same curse, as he started getting possessive. It began in innocuous things: asking where you were, what you were doing, you didn’t pay much attention back then, celestial wrath still fresh in your memory - he was just cautious you told yourself, it’s a safety measure.

But then these safety measures grew from simply inquiring about your day to accompanying you almost everywhere, and then it all culminated in Him locking you up, to keep you away from leaving.

You escaped then, and avoided him ever since, departing your residence the second you caught the wind of his possible proximity. Years turned into decades that later morphed into centuries, and you began to grow lax - he was getting closer and closer to you with each turn. The first time you had a suspicion of him being near you packed your things the same second and spent countless days traversing the land by hidden passageways, careful not to leave any traces, and now, now you still sit in your house, despite having evidence of him knowing where you are.

Maybe you grew tired of the cat and mouse game, maybe you just accepted that your recapture is inevitable and all your little escapes do nothing, but set it off for a couple of months, or maybe you’re just that lonely. It doesn’t matter, really, as you make no attempt to do anything - it’s useless, he already knows your location.

Khaenri’ah burns. You cry and you hate yourself - for weakness, for helplessness, for still being alive and sane. He stays near you as a silent shadow, his blue eyes shifting from your crying face to the wreckage of the city. There are no words shared between you that day - you’re crushed and empty, yet bare and aching at the same time.

“Dainsleif”, you greet him, once you hear the squeak of the opening door. He doesn’t look that different from five hundred years ago, but now his eyes are both more tired and alive with fervent light.

“[First]”, he simply replies, your name rolling off his tongue like a prayer - there’s adoration and worship in his tone. He almost falls to his knees, as he takes your hands in his, capturing them in a steel trap.

“[First], I finally have you, [first]”, he murmurs, bringing your palm to his face. You don’t resist him, knowing it’s futile. His skin feels just like all those years ago - rough and dry, weathered down by the demanding lifestyle he leads. He gives a shy peck to your inner wrist, blue eyes intently watching you as he does so.

“Long time no see, Dain”, you start, trying to diffuse the tension in the air, as he grabs you by the chin and forces you into a kiss. He kisses with the desperation of a dying person, one of his hands firmly holding your head, the other starts to explore your body. It feels obscene. You are lightheaded, when he finally parts and hugs you again, still chanting “[First]” over and over again.

You allow him this liberty too, feeling a prick of pity in your heart. You know what it is - to be the sole survivor, too see your own people crumble and fall and transform. You know that he returns to that place again and again, reliving the same moment against his will. You know that he gasps and shivers when the memories get too real and overwhelming.

You both are children of the fallen nation, and there's no person in the world who could understand you better than he does. Maybe, you shouldn't have run, you think, listening to Dainsleif speak in Khaenri’ahn. There's a chain of connection between you two, it's unbreakable, forged in shared losses, tears and pain.

Khaenri’ah burns. It burns in both of you.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Judgment Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 审判之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ Released on 26 October 2021 ]

Morning sunlight pours down boundlessly through the clouds, awakening the town of Feminero.

Bundling the fresh bellflowers into a bouquet, I open the doors of the flower shop, greeting passers-by with a smile.

[Note] The Chinese word for “bellflowers” (风铃花 - fēng líng huā) directly translates to “wind chime flowers” 🎐

MC: Madam Leman, may you have a lovely day ahead.

The woman seems a little troubled, and she comes over to me with unease.

Leman: I heard that a war broke out in the neighbouring country. I wonder if we’d be affected...

MC: That country’s a great distance away from us, so it shouldn’t spread for now.

Hearing this, her expression relaxes slightly. With a sigh, she turns and leaves.

At this moment, a familiar figure emerges from the cheese shop. A brown-haired youth hangs up a small signboard. The cheese on sale today is written on it.

With a grin, I walk over to him and clear my throat.

MC: Morning, Gavin.

He turns around. Seeing that it’s me, he chuckles softly, his tone leisurely.

Gavin: Good morning, MC.

Gavin is an apprentice at this cheese shop. The husband and wife who run this cheese shop really like him. Although he doesn’t know how to produce cheese, he’s able to manage everything else in the shop.

From what I heard from Madam Leman, ever since he arrived, all the ladies in the city enjoy buying their cheese from this place.

Gavin: Today’s recommendation is orange-flavoured cheese. Want to try it?

I nod, handing him the bouquet of bellflowers that I bundled earlier.

MC: As always, this is today’s fee for the cheese.

After taking it, his gaze lingers on the flowers, which are peppered with dewdrops. His eyes curve into a slight smile, and he picks up a wad of nicely packed cheese for me.

Church bells ring from a distance, its carol drifting over from afar with the breeze. A white feather floats past quietly.

Lowering my gaze, I accept Gavin’s cheese and turn around.

Gavin: You’re leaving already?

MC: Mm. I have lots of bellflowers to take care of today.

After saying goodbye to Gavin, I push open the door of the flower shop, only to find that there’s someone else inside. The wings behind him are pure white and soft. As he stares at my back, he frowns unhappily.

Saint Mier: The deadline from Heaven is arriving. Do you still know who you are? What are you doing here?

I blink quickly, responding to the question posed by my stern colleague.

MC: Of course. As an Angel of Judgment, I’m here to judge the previous Archangel who fell and became a demon - Gavin. And I have to sever his wings, which have been tainted with sin.

Saint Mier: It’s good that you still remember. The position of Archangel has been left empty for a long time. Once you bring Gavin’s wings back, you will no longer be the next Archangel. It’s time for this game of pretending to be human to end.

[ Flashback Begins ]

God: You are to judge Gavin and deprive him of his wings. They are no longer able to control the power of sin.

In the pure and holy Heaven, the awe-inspiring voice of God lands on my ears, bringing with it a name that I’ve not heard in a very long time. I can’t help but tremble.

The previous Archangel, Gavin, used to be the proudest legend and the strongest angel in Heaven.

Along with the other angels, I admired him in secret, but never had the courage to get close to him. I simply hid behind pillars, sneaking peeks at him.

The memory of him which lingers most deeply in my mind is the view of his back as he walked past the ocean of bellflowers, wings brushing the soft flowers.

MC: I’m willing to abide by my duty, and judge Gavin’s sin in the human world. That is, after carrying out my judgment.

After a silent pause, I accept God’s request.

Even if Gavin has become a taboo subject in Heaven, and a topic avoided by other angels, I don't believe that Gavin has become a demon.

I want to draw closer to him. I want to verify for myself that he has truly fallen.

[ Flashback Ends ]

However, after being in the human realm for half a year, I realised that Gavin was living like an ordinary apprentice. He didn’t harm humans, nor did he do anything demonic.

Eventually, I began to wonder if Gavin had actually turned into an ordinary human being.

The tranquility and tenderness of time constantly wore down my sense of determination. Sometimes, I even made a presumptuous wish that these ordinary days could go on forever.

Which is why I’ve been delaying my judgment.

As the deadline of my mission draws near, I know that this can no longer continue.

Seizing the darkness of night, I slip into Gavin’s room. At a glance, I spot the youth laying on the bed.

If he’s a demon, he’d definitely use his powers to protect himself once he senses danger.

I summon an angelic sword, propping it against his throat. His eyes are closed and his breathing is steady, seeming to be immersed in a pleasant dream.

At this moment, I feel a tinge of joy. Perhaps God was wrong, and Gavin wasn’t a fallen angel.

But in the next second, someone grips my wrists. An irresistible force strikes the sword out of my hand, sending it onto the floor.

Gavin pins my wrists onto the bed.

His gaze is icy and dangerous as he looks at me. I can vaguely see black feathers folded behind him, a thick and ominous aura entwining them.

Gavin: You ended up taking action.

He glances at the faraway sword before returning his gaze to me. For some reason, I detect some sadness in his eyes.

Gavin: During these six months, the reason why you kept getting close to me was to observe me? And you’ve finally decided to kill me?

Seeing the wings behind him, I finally believe that the Archangel I once admired has turned into a demon.

But why did this happen? Suppressing the sadness in my heart, I stare straight into Gavin’s eyes.

MC: Gavin, your wings have been tainted black. As an Angel of Judgment, I’m here to judge you.

The light in Gavin’s eyes grow dim.

Gavin: You decided that I’m guilty based on a pair of wings?

His voice and breaths land on my cheeks, reminiscent of a feather brushing past. I’m seized with terror for a moment, but Gavin suddenly straightens up, releasing me.

Gavin: But you made a futile trip. My wings... are about to be burnt to ashes.

All of a sudden, he unfolds his wings. Silver light outlines his pitch-black wings, scorching flames forming profound characters. They circle his wings, burning him.

Some areas have already been burnt, exposing both new and old wounds.

These wings aren’t beautiful, and are covered with clusters of wounds. He probably never thought of getting them treated, leaving them to form hideous scabs.

Gavin glances at me, an indifferent light in his eyes. The tongues of fire behind him are devastating, lapping away at the demonic aura around him.

So that’s the reason why I couldn’t sense a demonic aura.

But why did the once dazzling Archangel fall?

Even if he fell, how did his wings become riddled with wounds?

-

I fly several circles around Gavin’s garret in secret, but am unable to enter.

He seems have cast a restriction on the building. The moment my wings touch the windowsill, a dark red mark appears.

The last time we spoke, Gavin chased me out of his house. It’s been a week since then, and I haven’t seen him.

I heard that the flames of war from the neighbouring country have started burning the fringes of this town. Over the past few days, nobody has visited my flower shop. The entire town has grown tense and uneasy.

Looking at the quiet cheese shop on the opposite side, I keep thinking about his flame-fettered wings, along with the apathetic gaze he was unwilling to show me.

Feeling low-spirited, I really wish to know what exactly happened to Gavin’s wings. I’m unwilling to believe that Gavin’s wings were tainted black because he fell. But if that’s the truth...

I’ll sever his wings personally. This is the duty of an Angel of Judgment. At the same time... it’d also put a full-stop to all these years of admiration.

All of a sudden, a hoarse howl drifts from the first floor, accompanied by an intense, ominous aura.

I immediately descend to the ground. Gavin’s power seems to have slackened, enabling me to sneak in from the entrance successfully.

The first floor has been surrounded by a heavy darkness. I can see several half-scorched black feathers drifting around, and a thick charred scent fills the air. 

Gavin is hiding in the darkness, the black wings behind him outstretched. He occasionally releases broken, dull groans.

The flame-created curse entwines his wings tightly, and they seem to be burning even more intensely.

MC: Gavin? 

Gavin: Don’t come any closer!

There’s resistance in his voice, along with a tinge of panic stemming from a fear of being discovered.

MC: Gavin, are you okay...

Before I can finish speaking, a fierce gale surges towards me. A hand grabs my shoulder, pulling me into the darkness.

Gavin’s scattered breaths land on my face. His pupils are unfocused, and his gigantic wings stir continuously.

Through my peripheral vision, I see a stone statue smashed into smithereens beneath his feet.

My back is pressed against the entrance of the stairway, and the place where my shoulder is gripped surges with pain...

He exerts even more force, and it feels as though he’s about to crush my body into dust.

MC: It hurts...!

Even the most powerful demons I had battled in the past can’t be compared to how helpless I am right now with Gavin restraining me.

He’s akin to a caged beast which has lost its reason due to pain. But the moment he hears my voice, a tinge of clarity flashes past his struggle-filled eyes.

Gavin: Get out of here! 

He shuts his eyes, releasing a broken roar. Little by little, he releases his grip on my shoulder, then pushes me away roughly.

Watching as he loses his rationality, I feel something weighing on my heart, leaving me unable to breathe.

I can’t leave him alone like this.

I have to help him.

I take a deep breath. In the next moment, I use all of my strength to lunge at him.

Gavin is slightly bewildered. But his body seems to act before his brain, and he instinctively returns my embrace.

When he falls backwards onto the staircase, I plant a kiss on his forehead -

An angel’s kiss can rid one of pain. This is something that all angels know.

Gavin seems to be shocked into a daze. The wings behind him flap helplessly on the stairs.

Supporting myself on his chest, I straighten up, staring into his eyes seriously.

MC: Does it still hurt?

Gavin returns to his senses, subconsciously releasing his grip on my waist.

Seeing his clear expression, I finally heave a sigh of relief. Getting up from the stairs, I touch a lamp and light it up.

Weak candlelight illuminates the person in front of me, dyeing his stray hairs and wings with a warm faint light.

Borrowing this light, I glance at the slightly reddened tips of Gavin’s ears. He turns his face away, speaking coldly.

Gavin: There was no need for you to do that.

MC: But your wings would have continued to hurt.

Gavin pauses. Half of his face is shrouded in darkness, and his voice is a little muffled.

Gavin: This is my problem, and it has nothing to do with you. Stop getting close to me.

He hides his entire self in the darkness. The flickering light is between us, akin to a chilly and thick wall, preventing me from getting closer to him.

Even so, I take a few steps towards him.

MC: Actually, you already knew who I was when I first came here, didn’t you? If you were a demon, you’d have attacked me from the start. But you didn’t. Although your wings have turned black, you haven’t hurt a single person in Feminero. Even when I attacked you in the middle of the night, you released me despite having me in your grip. Aside from black wings, everything you’ve done doesn’t suit what a demon would do.

Gavin pauses, turning his face towards me slightly.

Gavin: What are you trying to say?

MC: I’m talking about what I’ve seen, and the reasons why I want to help you.

Gavin: Help me? What about your mission?

The subtle light illuminates the unconcealed scrutiny and resistance in Gavin’s eyes. I shake my head at him.

MC: I believe in the things that I see, and will listen to my heart before making the final judgment. And my current conclusion is that I wish to help you.

Gavin’s gaze stirs for a moment, but he quickly averts it.

Gavin: You can’t help me.

With a wave of his hand, my sword lands in his hands obediently. Then, he abruptly sends it towards his own wings.

Before the sword can touch his wings, the flames burn, shattering it on the spot.

The power of the flame-created curse seems to be impervious, and I stare at the remaining hilt of my sword in astonishment.

MC: ...what happened?

Gavin: This isn’t something you can resolve. And it isn’t something for you to resolve.

Late at night, outside the tight security of God’s compound, the stern patrolling angels are patrolling the outer walls.

I’m hiding in the shadows. When they turn into a corner, I slip in.

Many books and angelic instruments in Heaven are located here. The curse on Gavin’s wings is just too abnormal, but I might be able to find an answer here.

Gathering a dash of faint light between my fingertips, I search the bookshelves.

MC: ...there are far too many books here.

I can’t help but grumble. I have no idea how many ancient texts I’ve flipped through, but I’m still unable to find an answer.

But all of a sudden, something seems to emit light from a deep corner.

I lean over to take a look, only to find that it’s an especially thick and ordinary-looking book. When I bring it down, I realise that it doesn’t have a title.

In the darkness, it glimmers with a dim yet mystical light, and there are magical shackles strapped to it.

After hesitating for a moment, I lift up my sword.

Following a sound akin to the shattering of glass, I flip through the book, realising that it documents the entire history of Heaven!

I quickly leaf through the text - “Archangel”, “Curse”, “Vessel”...

These glaring words land in my eyes, causing me to suck in a cold breath of air.

Just as I'm about to flip to the next page, I spot a tiny bellflower sandwiched between the pages. It seems to have been here for many years, and the petals have already dried.

Patrolling Angel: Who’s there?!

An alarm blares from outside the window - it was probably triggered by the sound from earlier. I quickly put the book down, concealing myself behind the neighbouring bookshelf, planning how I should leave.

But the “wall” behind me is suddenly pushed open. In the next second, someone grabs my wrist, pulling me inside. A scorching temperature envelops my surroundings.

??: It’s me.

The patrolling angels are prudent as they search the corners, and they don’t leave for a long time. Across the wall, only the quiet and nearby breaths can be heard in the narrow and compact space.

I’m leaning in Gavin’s arms, the sound of galloping heartbeats leaving me somewhat panicked. I can’t tell if they belong to me, or the person pressed against my ear.

In the darkness, I can’t get a clear view of his face. I can only hear the sound of his especially close breaths, which gather to form a long sigh.

Gavin: Your skills in slipping in are passable, but you didn’t prepare an escape route.

Gavin: That was too risky.

There’s a somewhat resigned smile in his voice, leaving me a little dazed. It’s as if we’re simply little angels who sneaked in due to curiosity.

MC: If we’re talking about risks, this is Heaven. Do you know what would happen if they caught a demon like you?

Gavin: Since I’ve barged in, I have sufficient confidence that I won’t be discovered.

His words end with an upward lilt, confident and slightly arrogant.

The footsteps outside the wall begin to quieten down, and they no longer seem to be on high alert.

MC: Oh yes, I haven’t asked about what you’re doing in Heaven.

Gavin’s expression is hidden in the darkness, but I can feel the grip on my arm stiffening for a moment. Suspicious, I lift my head.

MC: Were you following me?

Gavin: I wanted to check something. Bumping into you... was just an accident.

As he speaks, his breaths land on my lips, causing my heart to gallop like a cantering horse. Even so, I try my best to muster my confidence.

MC: What were you checking? How to maintain the vessel?

The person beneath my fingertips stiffens in an instant, and he seems to stop breathing.

MC: The history of Heaven mentioned that God entrusted the duty of being a vessel to every Archangel. That way, they can absorb the deepest and darkest sins on earth. The reason why your wings turned black was because the sins you’re carrying have surpassed their limits. In order to keep them shackled, God sent golden coloured flames...

Gavin: That’s enough. Pursuing this further won’t benefit you in any way.

I’m furious, my tone growing much heavier.

MC: You knew about this since a long time ago. Perhaps... even before you became an Archangel, correct?

That tiny bellflower had been sandwiched in the book for an inexplicable amount of time, quietly witnessing as the past became text belonging to history.

Gavin doesn't speak. Accompanied by the silence from across the wall, he pushes the door. Pulling on my hand, we leave the outer wall with ease, walking over to a small, secluded path.

Morning gradually brightens, descending on the field of bellflowers at the end of the small path.

A breeze brushes the ocean of flowers, fresh and bright as always.

Gavin unfolds his wings, feathers charred beyond recognition, icy flames continuing to scorch him.

It turns out that since the very beginning, he’s been enduring the pain, and not letting it show.

Gavin: Yes, I knew about it. Somebody has to do it, and it just happens to be me. And I’m very willing to complete this task.

Every word is resolute and unhesitant. I know that he genuinely doesn’t mind becoming a cage himself.

MC: In that case, I’m the same as you. The mission that God gave me was to take over your duty. Since your wings are about to be burnt to their limit, it’s my turn to do this.

Those charred wings are glaring to the eyes, hideous yet calm. Just like their owner, they quietly and resolutely accept everything.

Gavin: So what?

Right now, his expression brings with it a bright haughtiness that I haven’t seen before.

Gavin: Even if my wings are incinerated, there’s still my body. The reason why God sent you here to sever my wings and take over my duty is because he doesn’t trust me. But I can do it. I can do the things that God deems me unable to.

MC: ...but the “sins” on this earth can never be fully eliminated. They are part of human nature! One day, your body will also be burnt to nothing!

Gavin: In that case, I’ll keep getting stronger.

MC: ...huh?

Gavin: I’ll keep getting stronger, all the way till the endless future.

MC: ...

I feel indignation in my heart. The person in front of me is truly stubborn.

MC: Gavin, have you never thought about giving up?

Giving up on this duty, freeing himself from endless fetters, and no longer shouldering these heavy chains.

Gavin doesn’t speak, but I already know the answer to this question. I know the glory and pride belonging to Archangel Gavin.

He definitely didn’t consider it.

Gavin: I have.

His voice is soft. My lowered eyes blink subconsciously.

Gavin: I'm not a god, so I’ve thought about shrinking back and giving up. But I found a reason why I can’t retreat.

The bellflowers in the field sway gently, releasing a mellifluous melody. I stare at him, thinking about how beautiful his eyes are when he smiles.

Gavin: It’s a reason that doesn’t belong to Archangels nor God. It’s a reason belonging only to me.

He pauses for a moment. He doesn’t seem used to saying such things so directly, and a faint crimson dyes his cheeks.

Gavin: With you by my side, I felt happy no matter what we did over the past six months. I want you to be happy, and not to become a cage.

In the end, I’m unable to persuade Gavin. After returning to Feminero, I tell him that I’d be giving up on the mission, and that I hope to see him for the last time at the flower shop.

The war has expanded in scope, and quite a number of people have fled towards the city. The entire town is desolate and silent.

While I’m in a daze, Gavin arrives at the flower shop as agreed.

It’s as though we’ve been transported back to the past, sitting outside the door and eating orange-flavoured cheese together. A breeze lifts up stray bits of his hair, revealing a pair of clear eyes.

Gavin: There doesn't seem to be a carol from the church today.

MC: Yeah. After all, the war is drawing near.

Although Gavin appears relaxed, the balled up fist he has hidden at his side has long since betrayed him in secret.

But he’s still here, meeting me for the last time.

Gavin: I’m sorry for making you fail in your mission.

I turn to look at Gavin. He sits on the chair a little stiffly, but a faint smile hangs on his face.

MC: Who knows? I might be punished by God and sent out of heaven to complete an even more impossible task.

Gavin: That won’t happen.

MC: After saying goodbye today, we might never meet again. Do you regret it?

Gavin freezes. Just as he’s about to say something, he suddenly stiffens. He balls his hands into fists, and he speaks in a suppressed manner.

His body is on the verge of collapse.

Swiftly, I pull him into the flower shop.

The moment we hide in the flower shop, the wings behind Gavin’s back unfold with a “whoosh”, and he supports himself on the edge of the table with a hand.

MC: Gavin...

Gavin suddenly grips my wrist, the other hand covering my eyes.

While I’m stunned, his muffled voice drifts into my ears.

His tone is suppressed and very, very soft. It even brings with it a restrained hoarseness.

Gavin: [pained] MC, I’m in so much pain.

He pauses for a moment. In the darkness, his voice lands on my ears, reminiscent of a particle of dust, floating in the air.

Gavin: [pained] ...could you... kiss me?

An angel’s kiss can rid one of pain. This is something that all angels know.

Before he finishes speaking, I stand on my tiptoes, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Along with my action, his hand glides down, enabling me to see his eyes staring deeply into mine.

The moment I kissed his cheek, the wings behind him instantly became even more scorching than before.

It’s as though everything was on the verge of being incinerated to ash.

Gavin’s amber eyes linger on my face longingly.

His eyelashes quiver slightly, the clear pain in his eyes slowly ebbing away. Sunlight descends on his face, as warm as always.

The bellflowers in my hand fall to the ground. In this warm sunlight, I hold Gavin’s hand, interlacing my fingers with his.

With the other hand, I summon the Sword of Judgment from the air. My pure white wings burst forth. With a flick of my wrist, the sharp knife fiercely gashes the wings behind me.

In the next second, I throw the sword down, then lunge myself into Gavin’s arms resolutely.

My injured wings unfold in front me. Following the movement of our embrace, they welcome the scorching wings behind him.

My eyes curl into a smile in response to Gavin’s shocked gaze.

MC: Gavin, you’ve underestimated the determination of an Angel of Judgment.

Gavin: How did you know...

MC: I sneaked back in. This time, I prepared an escape route. It’s said that you’re the most outstanding Archangel in history, but I think I’m pretty incredible myself.

Fresh blood taints the flame-created curse. The darkness within the flames and the white feathers entwine.

The curse gradually departs from Gavin’s wings. They surge towards me, bringing with them several black fragments.

Paying an equivalent price and transferring an equivalent amount of power - that’s how everything works, and it’s a method that I’m staking everything on.

Gavin: Let go of me! This is something that I'm shouldering. I don’t need you to bear this burden!

His body has already reached its limits, and he’s no longer able to resist my power.

Enduring the scorching pain, I continue pressing myself against him.

MC: This isn’t a burden. Gavin, this is my wish.

His eyes widen, and his lips quiver indistinctly.

The fragments surge into my body in a continuous stream. I shoulder the sins, along with Gavin’s power and memories.

I see his memories.

I see how he walked along the human world as an Archangel for hundred and thousand of years by himself, his pure white wings dazzling.

I see him falling into his garret in a piteous state, shouldering the curse and endless evils, gritting his teeth in the dark.

I also see... a figure who suddenly took center stage in his many long years of darkness.

Such memories are carefully hidden in his heart, bringing with them a warm hue despite knowing that the goal of the person drawing close to him was to sever his wings.

Memories of me.

Every moment he saw me over the past six months.

Every single fragment plunges into my wings.

My wings feel as though they are being torn apart by countless human hands, until the last feather is tainted with black cinders.

So this is what he’s been shouldering all this time.

MC: Gavin, do you know why my shop only sells bellflowers? 

MC: It’s because an Archangel I admired in the past loved that bellflower field in Heaven most. 

MC: Whenever his wings brushed the bellflowers, it looked as though all the light and floral fragrances in the world were on that pair of wings.

MC: God said that he had fallen, but I refused to believe it. 

MC: A long time afterwards, I found him hiding in darkness, and saw the wounds he concealed.

MC: I realised that whether he’s in the light or in the darkness, what lies beneath his wings is a tender heart. 

MC: I don’t want you to turn into cinders.

Upon hearing my words, Gavin’s eyes are dyed with a different warmth. He takes my hands. For the first time, he doesn’t run away, but brings me into his arms.

The sound of wailing can be heard from afar. Evil intentions surge into my wings in an endless stream, which are then suppressed by the flames.

I exert my all to endure the pain while every single feather pricks me like needles.

Gavin’s warm palm soothes my back gently, his soft and slightly cold lips landing on my forehead. His gentle and clear power enters my body.

MC: Gavin...!

His withered wings unfold slowly. His black feathers have been scorched to decay, but they are the purest pair of wings that I’ve ever seen.

Gavin: An angel’s kiss can rid one of pain. This is something that all angels know.

MC: You're...

I tremble, grabbing his lapel. A certain emotion spreads through my heart. 

He chuckles softly. Stray hairs in front of his forehead brush against my ear. Within the boundless pain, bits and pieces of truth emerge.

Gavin was never a fallen angel.

Even if his wings were dyed an endless black, and even if the flames kept corroding him, he was always a proud and radiant Archangel.

Gavin: I used to think that I’d only offer everything for my convictions. Looks like I was wrong.

His tone is filled with an intense sense of longing and relief. A kiss lands on my cheek.

I feel something warm blossoming from my chest, and entering Gavin’s wings.

That originally empty spot bursts with fragmented and faint light.

The light gradually turns dazzling. From his lingering wounds, pure white wings emerge.

Gentle light passes through the clouds and lands on Gavin. He looks at his own wings. Seeming to realise something, he smiles faintly.

He lowers his head, using his fingers to rub my cheek sentimentally.

Gavin: So... this is the reason why God sent you here.

All of a sudden, his wings unfold. Illuminated by radiance, he is so pure and divine that his entire body appears to be cloaked with light.

He wraps an arm around my waist, his wings stirring as he carries me into the sky.

Although my wings remain black, the curse has been extinguished with his power, and I no longer have to endure that scorching pain.

Gavin chuckles in resignation, staring at the wings behind my back.

Gavin: You’ve truly become an Archangel, and will have to take over my duty in shouldering all the sins in the world. 

Gavin: Although evil will never end, you won’t experience the pain that I did as long as I help you to keep it under control.

Gavin: I will protect you.

His words are succinct as always, but I know that this person will do as he says.

As though a great burden has been lifted, I chuckle. Placing all my burdens down, I lean into Gavin’s arms.

MC: But my wings are injured, and they need a long time to recover.

I hear Gavin’s soft laughter. Birds flap their wings as they fly beneath our feet, heading towards a warm, faraway place.

Gavin: So what? I’ll be your wings. Wherever you want to go, I’ll go with you.

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