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

[dracobin]

Very; I read a great deal of it, at home, and I have always wanted to try writing my own.

[He is quiet and attentive as Alcuin explains, and only twitches his whiskers once as the explanation draws to a close.]

I suppose it was not right of him, to accuse her so, when he had no proof; but I do not suppose it could have been very pleasant, to have one's own poetry banned, either. --You are right, it is complicated; much more than I had originally assumed.

[virginprice]

I have tried my hand at it and it is more difficult than it appears at first.

[He nods.]

I suppose I ought to have said he had no proof he could take to a court. He had proof that satisfied him, but it was not admissible for one reason or another- he felt that this was his only recourse, though he knew it would upset Rolande.

[dracobin]

I suppose it depends on the language, and the structure of the poem; most of the poetry I have read is Chinese, and there seem to be a great many rules one must follow, to write a proper poem.

Well, I suppose if he was convinced of Isabel's guilt, and he thought there was nothing else he could do, he was justified somewhat in his actions. It was in any case a very cowardly way to dispose of a rival; she had much better have it out with Edmee in public, I think, instead of sneaking about like that.

[virginprice]

Yes, there are many forms. If you would like I could teach you some of our structures, though I doubt they are much like the Chinese. Perhaps they may come more easily?

[He learned how they go, even if he can't write very good stuff.]

Yes, I agree, though I am not certain she intended Edmee to die. Still, it does not change the result of her action. She bore the shame of not being able to refute Delaunay's poem adequately- and so does her daughter, which I do not think is fair. The sins of her mother ought not to reflect on her.

[dracobin]

Oh, I should like that very much, if your poems are as nice as this one: is this particular structure specifically reserved for poetry about mating, or might it be extended to other subjects, as well?

[SAID QUITE BLITHELY oh well what are you gonna do]

It was not right of her to do so, even if she had only intended to scare her rival--but you are right; her daughter ought not be blamed for it, if she was not involved. Is this a common occurrence where you are from--that is to say, all of this plotting and intrigue?

[virginprice]

[Alcuin smiles, not all that bothered. Though a bit amused by the phrasing.]

That form is used primarily for matters of romance, but also sometimes for poems of nature. In Terre d'Ange, such subjects cross over.

Yes, quite common. I think it is so in any royal court- it is all tied in with power, and those who want power are always scheming for more of it. Those who have it must protect themselves, and it is a tangled web.

[dracobin]

Oh, I see; that is rather like something Jehan would enjoy, is it not?

It sounds very complicated, and a little underhanded besides, rather like the Chinese imperial court; I think I should count myself lucky I do not have to deal with anything like. Are you caught up in it, as well?

[virginprice]

Yes, I imagine so.

Oh, I was for a time. You are quite lucky, it is a difficult thing to be lying and lied to constantly. I prefer a quieter life. [Though he is very good at it, which is the unfortunate thing.]