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31_days2005-11-02 10:40 pm
mythicbeast.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-11-02 10:40 pm
[November 2] [Original] Cantata
Title: Cantata
Day/Theme: November 2//Life imitating art imitating life.
Fandom: Original
Character: Gale
Rating: G
Summary: Our greatest truths come out of our greatest lies.
Gale dreams in kings and knights and seers and sages.
"The red star's in the house of the Dog," she murmurs feverishly, hands twitching on the bedspread. "An uprising; revolution, and the balances will settle once more."
Another time. "My lady, will you not reconsider? The pass is treacherous in winter, and the snow is deep. You cannot hope to reach him now." A pause, as if waiting for a response, filled with shaky, shallow breathing. "Then I shall come with you, that you might not go unprotected. The sword of House Tremain shall stand by you in your time of need."
"I shall be everything you ever wanted--"
"--can count the stars in the sky? Man cannot fathom--"
"--wilt thou forgive me for the salt I hast left in thy bed?"
"I will love him now and forever, though he may ne'er return it, for love given freely is neither futile nor wasted, and it gives back tenfold the strength it takes away."
Gale opens her eyes after a period of silence, following that last, looking down at the foot of the bed with vague irritability.
"Really, my cariad," she slurs, scolding a slightly mussed-looking Palomir, reaching forward to tilt his face up towards her with a surprisingly gentle grip. "My bitter little duckling, my asinine sweet. You'll never make a good actor if you keep missing your lines."
Gale drops back again, and sleeps.
[A/N:
In oratory, the greatest art is to hide art. -- Jonathan Swift
Theater is but a reflection of the world it is performed in. 'All the world's a stage' and all that.
Cariad is Welsh for 'love', and bonus points to you if you know where I stole it.]
Day/Theme: November 2//Life imitating art imitating life.
Fandom: Original
Character: Gale
Rating: G
Summary: Our greatest truths come out of our greatest lies.
Gale dreams in kings and knights and seers and sages.
"The red star's in the house of the Dog," she murmurs feverishly, hands twitching on the bedspread. "An uprising; revolution, and the balances will settle once more."
Another time. "My lady, will you not reconsider? The pass is treacherous in winter, and the snow is deep. You cannot hope to reach him now." A pause, as if waiting for a response, filled with shaky, shallow breathing. "Then I shall come with you, that you might not go unprotected. The sword of House Tremain shall stand by you in your time of need."
"I shall be everything you ever wanted--"
"--can count the stars in the sky? Man cannot fathom--"
"--wilt thou forgive me for the salt I hast left in thy bed?"
"I will love him now and forever, though he may ne'er return it, for love given freely is neither futile nor wasted, and it gives back tenfold the strength it takes away."
Gale opens her eyes after a period of silence, following that last, looking down at the foot of the bed with vague irritability.
"Really, my cariad," she slurs, scolding a slightly mussed-looking Palomir, reaching forward to tilt his face up towards her with a surprisingly gentle grip. "My bitter little duckling, my asinine sweet. You'll never make a good actor if you keep missing your lines."
Gale drops back again, and sleeps.
[A/N:
In oratory, the greatest art is to hide art. -- Jonathan Swift
Theater is but a reflection of the world it is performed in. 'All the world's a stage' and all that.
Cariad is Welsh for 'love', and bonus points to you if you know where I stole it.]