video;

[virginprice]

[The acute observer may notice two things different about Alcuin. The first is that there's a faint pattern of lines on his forehead that seem to form some kind of mark. The second is the bruise on his temple- the edges are fading to yellow and green, but it's still dark purple at the heart, though somewhat hidden under his hair.

But he doesn't seem to be minding either of them, instead looking pleased as he holds a small book in his hands.]

Some of the fruits of our docking at that city were sweeter than others.

[That's a joke. Definitely a joke. He hasn't been in evidence much, besides going to work everyday. Landfall was rough.]

A friend of mine was kind enough to gift me one of his discoveries- a book of poems written by my lover, Anafiel Delaunay. I cannot guess how it came to be there, but I am so glad that it was.

[He runs his fingers over the cover fondly.]

You see, back at home these poems were banned. It was unlawful to speak them aloud, or even to own a copy- not through any fault of the poetry, there were politics involved. But I would like to read you one of them, one of my favourites. It will be the first time that it has been spoken in public in many years.


O, dear my lord...
Let this breast on which you have leant
As close in love as a foe in battle,
Unarmed, unarmored, grappling chest to chest,
Alone in the glade
Where birds started at our voices,
Laughter winging airborne, we struggled
For advantage, neither giving quarter;
How I remember your arms beneath my grip,
Sliding like marble slickened;
Your chest pressed to mine
Heaving;
As our feet trampled the tender grass
Your eyes narrowed with tender cunning
And I unaware
Until your heel caught my knee; I buckled,
Falling,
Vanquished, O sovereign adored,
To be pierced ecstatic by the shaft of victory;
Sweet the pain of losing,
Sweeter this second struggle...

O, dear my lord,
Let this breast on which you have leant
Serve now as your shield.


[He closes the book, smiling softly- caught in a reminiscence of Delaunay. After a moment, he remembers the camera and turns it off.]

Comments

[video]

[poeticverses]

[Jehan get the distinct feeling that this was sexual. It certainly sounds sexual, and that's why he's a bit pink when he turns on the feed]

Your Anafiel was very talented.

[video]

[virginprice]

He was. He would have been the King's Poet, if matters had turned out differently. Though you may not think much of such a post. [He's teasing.]

Video

[bindsthedead]

Er... [Don't mind Sabriel, she's blushing a little as she hears the poem, though she's more concerned about that bruise.]

I can mend that bruise if you like. And- show you some of the marks for a healing spell.

Video

[virginprice]

[He's going to get a lot of blushing, isn't he?]

Oh, would you? I would like both- learning to heal would be wonderful.

video

[epigrammatical]

Your Anafiel would have gotten along splendidly with the poets I knew in London and Paris, I think.

[Then, noticing the bruise, his expression grows concerned.]

...my dear boy, were you injured?

video

[virginprice]

Well, he was very good company, and a noted host.

[He touches the bruise lightly, making a bit of a face.]

There was an incident on the mainland. Pray do not trouble yourself over it, Harry, it is quite in the past.

[dracobin]

[An appreciative rumble.] Oh, that is a very nice poem; pray, why was it banned?

[virginprice]

Thank you, Temeraire. Are you fond of poetry? [He smiles.]

All of Anafiel's poetry was banned- it is a complicated situation, but I will strive to explain it as best I may.

Edmee de Rocaille, a dear friend of his, was set to marry the Dauphin, Prince Rolande de la Courcel, but she was killed in a hunting accident. Anafiel suspected that it was her rival, Isabel L'Envers who had arranged for her saddle girth to be cut. There was no proof, but he wrote a satire on the matter and so she was derided as a murderess. Since Isabel married the Dauphin, she had the power to demand that Anafiel be punished. The Dauphin loved Anafiel, so he was not exiled- the ban on his poetry was the lighter sentence.

video;

[saisamour]

[He listened to like one eighth of that poem and then nope-d out tbh

But he's still slightly red in the face when he asks,]

Are you recovering well, monsieur?

video;

[virginprice]

[Oh please it is not that scandalous what is everyone blushing about.]

Yes, very well. Thank you for your help, Messire Pontmercy, it was most kindly done.

video;

[insecrets]

Your lover was incredibly talented. Thank you for sharing it. [From one poet to another, he can appreciate it.]

Did you end up in a fight, Alcuin? [Squinting now.]

video;

[virginprice]

It was my pleasure. [He smiles at the compliment, glad for Anafiel's sake.]

Ah- there was a protest while the turtle was docked at Atamischar. They did not appreciate it.

[iwillnotlookback]

He has a deft talent at such tender words, this paramour of yours.

[virginprice]

Truly. He would have been the King's Poet, had matters fallen out otherwise- his talent was well-known.

audio;

[amonfire]

Hardly the stuff of scandal. [ wow people banned this wow what ] It is good to see you well, Alcuin.

audio;

[virginprice]

It was not banned for content; there was a political upset. [D'Angelines love their erotic poetry.] How are you? Have your injuries been much trouble?

[video]

[cynisme]

[Unlike the rest of his compatriots, he had no intention of pointing out that bruise on Alcuin's head. His own are just as yellowing, after all, it's not really a thing. Neither is being scandalized by the poem either, though he very well could be. It's...well, it's sexy. Almost uncomfortably so, to be hearing in public.

He's well read in Byron, in Shelley, in Casanova, but those are all within the privacy of his own home. Still, it's more exciting than it is scandalizing, so he raises an eyebrow and, for a moment, has a hint of a smirk. Still too sober and too sore to be truly pleasant, but he's fallen far off of the withdrawal wagon, enough to not give a damn about rationing his wares well anymore.

He whistles.]

Alors, now that was a poem. I can see why they were banned.

[video]

[virginprice]

As I have said before, it was not the content for which they were banned. He was quite celebrated at one time, and the ban was a matter of politics. This is one of his earlier works, when he was the lover of the Dauphin.

[But he appreciates the lack of scandalized blushes.]

[afirewithfashion]

Your head-- were you hurt, Alcuin?

[virginprice]

Do not trouble yourself, Cinna. It is a remnant of the landfall, that's all.

[video | standard encryption]

[cowled]

[Well, that's interesting. Both the poem, the bruise, the mark on Alcuin's forehead and the mention of Delaunay, of whom Favrielle had spoken.

He promised her he'd look after Alcuin as best he could, and it's with that in mind that he speaks,]

Favrielle mentioned he was a poet. I'm glad you have something to remember him by.

[video | standard encryption]

[virginprice]

[Alcuin smiles at Bruce politely, unsure of how this conversation is going to go after the last couple they've had. However, he will make it as pleasant as he can.]

Yes, it is. I had never read these- I heard a few of them from him, but to see them written is a different matter.

video;

[trainwrecked]

[... you know. That. Might have made Bucky flush a little. Because, while he is not exactly a poetry type of a man? These words bridge a connection that he - couldn't figure out. Couldn't understand.]

[But he's a soldier. He's a soldier who followed one person beyond what's sane, and will again. And while that's not something he would ever ever allow himself to think, let alone feel, with regard to Steve? Ah.]

[It lets him understand. His eyes are brighter, and, yes, he's taking in the damage on the younger man, too, but - his brain is working too hard on the other aspect of this.]

I... see.

video;

[virginprice]

[Alcuin hesitates, then smiles a little.]

Ought I to ask what you see? Or would it be better to ask how you are?

[audio]

[polyhistor]

I'm not exactly a fan of poetry, but the composition the author used there is exceptional.

[He's never been good at reading the emotional nuances of poetry, but. He's trying.]

[audio]

[virginprice]

Are you not? In my age, poetry was essential to a scholar. I suppose things have changed greatly.

[He isn't judging, actually- he's just noting the difference between their worlds and centuries.]

But thank you. I am certain he would be glad of your praise.