tushanshu | video;

[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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That is very like you, Harry, to see it as poetry, but I suppose it is fitting for Anafiel to have lived such a life. There was always great sorrow in him when I knew him- and I wish I had had the chance to know Rolande... though if I had I doubt my own love would have had even the small success it did.

[He's under no delusions that Anafiel loved him as much as he had Rolande. He isn't capable of that level of self-deception. But he still values the sweetness he had with him.]

They must have been remarkable people. I would have liked to have known them as well.

Well, perhaps you will get the chance. I think you would like him- unless it happened that you were too much alike and you took a dislike to each other instead. I have known such things to occur.

[But he's not seriously worried about that, his tone is light and a bit teasing.]

I would be saddened if that were the case. If nothing else, however, I would happily express honest admiration for his literary talent, and that is no poor beginning of an acquaintance.

He does like praise as much as any other man, as long as it is honest.

I have always believed in being scrupulously honest with praise. It saves much awkwardness later.

That you for sharing the poem, Alcuin. I should like to see more sometime, should you be so inclined.

An excellent policy, I think.

It was my pleasure. I will happily lend it to you when I am done reading it- though that may be some time.

[He wants to savour every word.]

Of course. Take your time and enjoy it, dear boy.