It wouldn't be a proper Saltburnt fête without you, even if the festivities aren't always to your liking.
You and I were in a rowboat on the North Sea. It was night, a dark moon, the cluster of the Pleiades bright overhead. Venus nestled among the Weeping Sisters, a sorrowful evening star.
You were naked in the bottom of the boat, your wrists and ankles bound with black rope. I washed your hair with sea water from a crystal jug, and a star fell into the sea beside us, illuminating everything for one bright moment. You wanted to catch it but insisted upon remaining bound. I told you you could have one but not the other.
[ whatever he expected — and he expected a lot from jen, who has only grown more esoteric in her fame — it isn’t this. a series of images that leave him aching without knowing why.
the holy father speaks to all, even those who do not listen, in signs and dreams, words and visions. he recalls a homily from an american church, visited not so long ago, where they spoke of the man who asks for aid from god but denies the boat that sails to rescue him — waiting for the divine and failing to see it, in his messengers.
it wouldn’t do to dismiss jenevelle, even if he did not care for her (and he does). he misses the sea and the stars both. one, at least, he’ll find here at saltburnt. ]
[ No matter how long they've been apart, there will always be a small corner tucked away in her heart for Gale. A quiet shore with mournful seals that vanish beneath the waves when she watches them too long.
Shadowheart believes in soulmates, of course--she and Emmrich are two halves of one warm heart--but they come in all shapes, and not all are forever. Gale is a star in her own bright cluster, one she knows she'll find in the next life in one form or other. ]
I woke up before you could.
You'll tell me if the dream continues while we're here, yes?
Of course, though I’ve been too tired to dream much, of late.
[ he only recalls fragments, upon waking. libraries and far shores, eyes tinted gold by the sunset — a hallway of blackest obsidian, where he’s sure to find his doom. ]
Hopefully I’ll not haunt your dreams to compensate.
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The prodigal priest returns.
[ just some bible jokes for you. ]
Certainly, Jenevelle. I hope you know I always have time for you.
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You and I were in a rowboat on the North Sea. It was night, a dark moon, the cluster of the Pleiades bright overhead. Venus nestled among the Weeping Sisters, a sorrowful evening star.
You were naked in the bottom of the boat, your wrists and ankles bound with black rope. I washed your hair with sea water from a crystal jug, and a star fell into the sea beside us, illuminating everything for one bright moment. You wanted to catch it but insisted upon remaining bound. I told you you could have one but not the other.
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the holy father speaks to all, even those who do not listen, in signs and dreams, words and visions. he recalls a homily from an american church, visited not so long ago, where they spoke of the man who asks for aid from god but denies the boat that sails to rescue him — waiting for the divine and failing to see it, in his messengers.
it wouldn’t do to dismiss jenevelle, even if he did not care for her (and he does). he misses the sea and the stars both. one, at least, he’ll find here at saltburnt. ]
Did I choose, in the dream?
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Shadowheart believes in soulmates, of course--she and Emmrich are two halves of one warm heart--but they come in all shapes, and not all are forever. Gale is a star in her own bright cluster, one she knows she'll find in the next life in one form or other. ]
I woke up before you could.
You'll tell me if the dream continues while we're here, yes?
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[ he only recalls fragments, upon waking. libraries and far shores, eyes tinted gold by the sunset — a hallway of blackest obsidian, where he’s sure to find his doom. ]
Hopefully I’ll not haunt your dreams to compensate.
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I can bring you some of my passionflower and valerian tea, if you'd like.
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The guests at the manor are as deserving of forgiveness as anyone else.
Though they do…surprise and amaze.
[ he already has a migraine. ]
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[ To both points, perhaps. ]
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For your sins, at least.
For your taste in dalliances, however…
[ he’s actually referring to henry wright and NOT emmrich ]
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