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Aria of St. Francis
Aria of St. Francis
By: Myron and Kuroinami
Yon wintry fowl now gaze upon the mark of youth,
Half-set in joy and risen in heart his song.
Who would expect such reason to hold, uncouth?
Thus to flight his wings, azure, shall long.
His call, lost breath, as fierce to Want as flame,
Her breast impassioned with rhythm untold,
So taut the charged sweetness that keep her name,
And in this day with mate together hold.
The blossom free from crafting self will fall.
In autumn light recall the spring now gone.
Enrapt with native dreams, the shame of all,
Wrought with age, the bird awaits the ancient Dawn.
Hide, dull plumage, against the winter snow,
Ghost song renewed in Springs fair youthful glow.
Chapter Nine: A Bridge too Far (Or how knitting can save your life.)
The next morning was hard on most of the group. For one thing, hangovers are nasty business, and for another, that storm that had started the night before was starting to flood the town! Though they stumbled down the stairs, the heroes knew what they needed to do and were already strapping on their gear, weapons, and other essentials. Parry had also started knitting frantically in a much wider stitch than she normally used.
Cin and Feiskar started to organize the people that were milling about outside the tavern (the people knew that a group of adventurers were inside and were counting on the fact that they would not run away and leave the helpless townspeople to their own devices.) Luckily for the people of the town, these were indeed true heroes (or substitute heroes, but that is just a technicality), and they would not leave a soul behind. Those without a soul,
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
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