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Literature Text
The reavers were quiet, the night more of an absence than a reality. What few stars could be glimpsed through the clouds seem alone and fearful. Under dim skies, I sat in my house cart, spending my attention on minor tasks. I could not sleep, camped amongst the reavers, in their huddled piles.
One nearest me arose, and bowed, inquiring in a voice strangely pleasant
“Sage, the sun has long-fled the field of heaven, why do you not rest?”
Replacing the scroll in it's shelf, I replied, unsettled by his elegance.. “Though swords are sheathed and blood unspilled, your presence does not sooth one such as I.”
There was a ripple of laughter, though not a one of the hunched forms moved.
“We are offensive to the sage. Quiet your hearts brothers, and sheath your minds.”
The scent of blood and frenzy drained from the air and I nodded acknowledgement.
“You have my gratitude. One who is used to serenity finds the company of warriors upsetting.”
I pause, the reaver's speech held a quality of meter strange in one so rough.
“You have my curiosity as well. Your voice tells me you have spent time at court, A thought that slips the grasp of logic.”
Silence falls, I wait with polite mien for his response.
“In younger days I spent my time, a courtier to the house of J'an. I made errors, over-stepped the bounds of propriety. But Sage, these memories are a weakness now. I have been made a vessel, hollow, to be filled with rage and cunning, and spilled upon the enemy.”
I began to speak and, for the first time he shows a lack of manners,interrupting. “Sage I beg you, do not speak to me. I must remain an empty vessel, I have no room for elegance or manners.”
I obeyed his wishes, and in silence pondered. What might a courtier have done, to fall so far. Though I listened I never again heard a scrap of elegance amidst the speech of the reavers. I never found him again, but he left a poem, written in ash on the roughest of paper.
Above, clouds gather.
The dessert remembers water,
aching for the rain.
One nearest me arose, and bowed, inquiring in a voice strangely pleasant
“Sage, the sun has long-fled the field of heaven, why do you not rest?”
Replacing the scroll in it's shelf, I replied, unsettled by his elegance.. “Though swords are sheathed and blood unspilled, your presence does not sooth one such as I.”
There was a ripple of laughter, though not a one of the hunched forms moved.
“We are offensive to the sage. Quiet your hearts brothers, and sheath your minds.”
The scent of blood and frenzy drained from the air and I nodded acknowledgement.
“You have my gratitude. One who is used to serenity finds the company of warriors upsetting.”
I pause, the reaver's speech held a quality of meter strange in one so rough.
“You have my curiosity as well. Your voice tells me you have spent time at court, A thought that slips the grasp of logic.”
Silence falls, I wait with polite mien for his response.
“In younger days I spent my time, a courtier to the house of J'an. I made errors, over-stepped the bounds of propriety. But Sage, these memories are a weakness now. I have been made a vessel, hollow, to be filled with rage and cunning, and spilled upon the enemy.”
I began to speak and, for the first time he shows a lack of manners,interrupting. “Sage I beg you, do not speak to me. I must remain an empty vessel, I have no room for elegance or manners.”
I obeyed his wishes, and in silence pondered. What might a courtier have done, to fall so far. Though I listened I never again heard a scrap of elegance amidst the speech of the reavers. I never found him again, but he left a poem, written in ash on the roughest of paper.
Above, clouds gather.
The dessert remembers water,
aching for the rain.
Literature
Untitled
Once upon a time
I reached for the stars
And tried to climb
The sun's golden bars
But those rays of light
Cut short my flight
I reached for the stars
And fell from the sky
My hopes now scars
I can't justify
To myself alone
I am she who has flown
I tried to climb
Like Icarus the son
Melted wax come noontime
With nothing won
No promises made
No trophies gained
The sun's golden bars
Whose sentinels maintained
The ghosts of Mars
Those who remain
Close to my heart
Forever apart
The rays of light
Have faded away
The moon now night
Where the world decays
And I'm still fading
The sun never staying
Cut short my flight
Left behind it all
I try to
Literature
apocryphal
so cunning and seemingly honest
at times there is nothing but wit
yet not quite real on the inside
but nothing we care to admit
Literature
Unease
The world will face its early end
When scorn becomes the new trend
The remaining hope is our sense
Only we can save the world from its absence
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So this was inspired by Beowulf actually.
I should writ down and codify all my wuxia type stuff, make them consistent.
I should writ down and codify all my wuxia type stuff, make them consistent.
© 2015 - 2024 Norrolith
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So pretty *3*