Shipping itp

[Kaelaroth]

@Kael: Your ships are super-awesome, just to let you know.

Thank you.

I want Kaela to write Kaela/someone love.
Please? D=

Hmm... Maybe.

[RabbitHoleLost]

No, not someonenonotyou. Just, someone of Kaela's choice.

[PhoeKun]

The thing that impresses me most about these letters is how absolutely authentic they sound. This ranges from the wonderful to the horrible, but they're all quite real, to the point where I wouldn't be surprised if some, at least, were.

Also...

@Curly: I'm particularly pleased to find you enjoyed my offering so far. Also happy you've enjoyed being King Arthur. But... kindly put away your cooking spices. I promise, I'll write more!

edit: Blech and a half. So not a fan of MI week...

[CurlyKitGirl]

Wait... I don't understand what you're saying here. The story was mighty sad though.
...I have a terrible wisdom penalty, methinks

Yeah, basically, it's X's letter to 'zira. X is unknown and entirely fictional.

@Kaela: how about . . . Kaela/Cobra?
Kaela/Terra?
Kaela/YPU?
Kaela/DD?
Kaela/DRider?
Kaela/Serpy?
Ego/Serpy?
Ego/Kaela?
Or if you want random go to the Shipping permission thread and pick the closes to these posts who give permission:
Page 2; second post down and . . . page four, third post from the bottom. Or closest to them.

[Cobra_Ikari]

...oh noes, I has Kaela love?

[Kaelaroth]

...oh noes, I has Kaela love?

Why is this a bad thing?

[RabbitHoleLost]

Why is this a bad thing?

Is not.
He's imitating me, and I say 'oh noes' as an exclamation of surprise.
Also, I approve of Cobra/Kaela, and will be writing it after I finish Rai/George

[Kaelaroth]

Is not.
He's imitating me, and I say 'oh noes' as an exclamation of surprise.
Also, I approve of Cobra/Kaela, and will be writing it after I finish Rai/George

*calms down*

[CurlyKitGirl]

The thing that impresses me most about these letters is how absolutely authentic they sound. This ranges from the wonderful to the horrible, but they're all quite real, to the point where I wouldn't be surprised if some, at least, were.

Also...

@Curly: I'm particularly pleased to find you enjoyed my offering so far. Also happy you've enjoyed being King Arthur. But... kindly put away your cooking spices. I promise, I'll write more!

edit: Blech and a half. So not a fan of MI week...

Weeell, let's say that some of the emotions are the way I (personally) feel and others are just me drawing on others experiences. But yeah, there's a fair amount of realism in them. Just reread them after all the reviews and they do feel realistic.

*puts away spices*
I await the next part with glee and very eagre anticipation.

And I agree with the MI thing. I thought RHL was Cobra because of the avvie. And then vice versa.

[Tengu_temp]

My Elitest
The saga continues!
And I'm sure you wish it didn't.

Chapter 7

Spoiler

Show

EE and I held our pale white hands with black nail polish as we went upstairs. I was wearing red Satanist sings on my nails in red nail polish (AN: c doez dat sound lik a Maru Sue 2 u?). I waved to Vampire. Dark misery was in his depressed eyes. I guess he was jealous of me that I was going out with EE. Anyway, I went upstairs excitedly with EE. We went into his room and locked the door. Then…………

*curtain, family-friendly forums* when all of a sudden I saw a tattoo I had never seen before on Evil Elitest’s arm. It was a black heart with an arrow through it. On it in bloody gothic writing were the words………… Vampire!

I was so angry.

“You bastard!” I shouted angrily, jumping out of the bed.

“No! No! But you don’t understand!” EE pleaded. But I knew too much.

“No, you fu**ing idiot!” I shouted. “You probably have AIDs anyway!”

I put on my clothes all huffily and then stomped out. EE ran out even though he was naked. He had a really big you-know-what but I was too mad to care. I stomped out and did so until I was in Vampire’s classroom where he was having a lesson with Professor Tengu and some other people.

“VAMPIRE NERDORAMA, YOU MOTHERFU**ER!” I yelled.

Chapter 8

Spoiler

Show

Everyone in the class stared at me and then EE came into the room even though he was naked and started begging me to take him back.

“Rutee, it’s not what you think!” EE screamed sadly.

My friend Terraoblivion smiled at me understatedly. She flipped her long waste-length gothic black hair and opened her crimson eyes like blood that she was wearing contact lenses on. She had pale white skin that she was wearing white makeup on. Terra was kidnapped when she was born. Her real parents are vampires and one of them is a witch but Frosty killed her mother and her father committed suicide because he was depressed about it. She still has nightmares about it and she is very haunted and depressed. (Since she has converted to Satanism she is in Slytherin now not Griffindoor. )

“What is it that you desire, you ridiculous dimwit!” Tengu demeaned angrily in his cold voice but I ignored him.

“Vampire, I can’t believe you cheated on me with EE!” I shouted at him.

Everyone gasped.

I don’t know why Rutee was so mad at me. I had went out with Vampire (I’m bi and so is Rutee) for a while but then he broke my heart. He dumped me because he liked Britney, a stupid preppy fu**er. We were just good friends now. He had gone through horrible problems, and now he was gothic. (Haha, like I would hang out with a prep.)

“But I’m not going out with EE anymore!” said Vampire.

“Yeah fu**ing right! **** off, you bastard!” I screamed. I ran out of the room and into the Forbidden Forest where I had lost my virility to EE and then I started to bust into tears.

Chapter 9

Spoiler

Show

I was so mad and sad. I couldn’t believe EE for cheating on me. I began to cry against the tree where I did it with EE.

Then all of a suddenly, an horrible man with red eyes and no nose and everything started flying towards me on a broomstick! He didn’t have a nose (basically like Frosty in the movie) and he was wearing all black but it was obvious he wasn’t gothic. It was…… Frosty!

“No!” I shouted in a scared voice but then Frosty shouted “Imperius!” and I couldn’t run away.

“Crookshanks!” I shouted at him. Frosty fell of his broom and started to scream. I felt bad for him even though I’m a sadist so I stopped.

“Rutee.” he yelled. “Thou must kill Vampire Nerd-o-Rama!”

I thought about Vampire and his sexah eyes and his gothic black hair and how his face looks just like Joel Madden. I remembered that EE had said I didn’t understand, so I thought, what if EE went out with Vampire before I went out with him and they broke up?

“No, Frosty!” I shouted back.

Frosty gave me a gun. “No! Please!” I begged.

“Thou must!” he yelled. “If thou does not, then I shall kill thy beloved EE!”

“How did you know?” I asked in a surprised way.

Frosty got a dude-ur-so-retarded look on his face. “I hath telekinesis.” he answered cruelly. “And if you doth not kill Vampire, then thou know what will happen to EE!” he shouted. Then he flew away angrily on his broomstick.

I was so scared and mad I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly EE came into the woods.

“EE!” I said. “Hi!”

“Hi.” he said back but his face was all sad. He was wearing white foundation and messy eyeliner kind of like a pentagram (geddit) between Joel Madden and Gerard Way.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No.” he answered.

“I’m sorry I got all mad at you but I thought you cheated on me.” I expelled.

“That’s okay.” he said all depressed and we went back into Hogwarts together making out.

It's still not over yet!

[RabbitHoleLost]

L'Angelo Misterioso (If anyone gets the background behind this name, they get an internet cookie. No, not if you know what it means. WHY I chose to use it)
Raistlin1040/George Harrison (The Beatles)(With Cameos by RHL and Kaelaroth, though not as a pair)

Spoiler

Show

"This is going to be so lame." Raistlin had muttered as RHL tugged him by the hand into the magic shop.
"Rairai," The girl pouted, her eyes wide with pleading. "It'll be fun, I promise. My past life was super cool. I was a hippie and everything." She winked from behind her glasses and stopped at the counter, upon which random stones and crystals for scrying and blessing were neatly organized, intricate and beautiful mortars and pestles set out for purchase.
"Um, hello?" RHL called out to thin air, it seemed, looking for an attendant or sales person. Raistlin just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he contemplated the many ways to get out of that place as soon as possible.
"I have an appointment for-"
"Past life discovery. At the price of your eternal soul."
Raistlin's eyes widened in shock, glancing to RHL, who was only smiling.
"Don't scar the poor boy, Kaela. He already doesn't know what to think of this already." While the two snickered and Kaelaroth set up the materials (including a big screen and hooking Rai up to several different wires and devices), Raistlin frowned, conveying his utter disapproval.
With much fanfare, Kaelaroth began the spell (or, as Raistlin thought, science experiment. What magic used technology?).
It wasn't long until there was a flicker of something on the screen...
---
The man sitting casually upon a stool, a guitar perched expertly on his knees, from which his fingers coaxed sweet melodies and face-melting riffs alternately. With his face pointed downwards (not at the guitar, as it was plainly obvious he was above watching his fingers do their work) and long glorious hair obscuring the vision of his visage, it was impossible to guess who it could be.
Well, if you were stupid.
---
"Sweeeettt.." Raistlin grinned.
"Shh."
---
The man (or, what appeared to be an older Raistlin) stood to roaring applause, other band members slightly coming into focus, though there was nothing to note of them. He seemed pleased enough with himself, and the vision followed him backstage, where a particular familiar face came slowly walking up.
A boyishly charming face, perfectly full lips...
---
"No, no, there is no way that's..." RHL seemed incredulous, though Raistlin smirked.
---
"George..." The two men grinned at eachother for a moment, before pulling eachother into a tight embrace.
---
Raistlin's eyes glowed with triumph in reaction to RHL's glowering jealousy.
"Not only did I know George Harrison, I was close with him."
"It looks like it was more than that." Kaela, who had been relatively silent until that point, chuckled and pointed back to the screen with a delicate finger.
---
Raistlin's face turned to place a gentle kiss on George's cheek, his hand winding through the other man's. It was the picture of pure adoration and affection between the two musicians and...
---
The screen went blank with a sizzle and RHL's hands were crossed irritatedly over her chest, pouting.
"That was quite enough of that."
Raistlin and Kaela, on the other hand, disagreed.
"It was just getting to the good part, too!"
"This was your idea."
Overwhelmed by the two teaming up on her, RHL finally gave in.
"Yes, but it isn't fair; I was just a drunken teenager!"

Not nearly as cool as I was hoping it to be...

[Cobra_Ikari]

L'Angelo Misterioso (If anyone gets the background behind this name, they get an internet cookie. No, not if you know what it means. WHY I chose to use it)
Raistlin1040/George Harrison (The Beatles)(With Cameos by RHL and Kaelaroth, though not as a pair)

Spoiler

Show

"This is going to be so lame." Raistlin had muttered as RHL tugged him by the hand into the magic shop.
"Rairai," The girl pouted, her eyes wide with pleading. "It'll be fun, I promise. My past life was super cool. I was a hippie and everything." She winked from behind her glasses and stopped at the counter, upon which random stones and crystals for scrying and blessing were neatly organized, intricate and beautiful mortars and pestles set out for purchase.
"Um, hello?" RHL called out to thin air, it seemed, looking for an attendant or sales person. Raistlin just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he contemplated the many ways to get out of that place as soon as possible.
"I have an appointment for-"
"Past life discovery. At the price of your eternal soul."
Raistlin's eyes widened in shock, glancing to RHL, who was only smiling.
"Don't scar the poor boy, Kaela. He already doesn't know what to think of this already." While the two snickered and Kaelaroth set up the materials (including a big screen and hooking Rai up to several different wires and devices), Raistlin frowned, conveying his utter disapproval.
With much fanfare, Kaelaroth began the spell (or, as Raistlin thought, science experiment. What magic used technology?).
It wasn't long until there was a flicker of something on the screen...
---
The man sitting casually upon a stool, a guitar perched expertly on his knees, from which his fingers coaxed sweet melodies and face-melting riffs alternately. With his face pointed downwards (not at the guitar, as it was plainly obvious he was above watching his fingers do their work) and long glorious hair obscuring the vision of his visage, it was impossible to guess who it could be.
Well, if you were stupid.
---
"Sweeeettt.." Raistlin grinned.
"Shh."
---
The man (or, what appeared to be an older Raistlin) stood to roaring applause, other band members slightly coming into focus, though there was nothing to note of them. He seemed pleased enough with himself, and the vision followed him backstage, where a particular familiar face came slowly walking up.
A boyishly charming face, perfectly full lips...
---
"No, no, there is no way that's..." RHL seemed incredulous, though Raistlin smirked.
---
"George..." The two men grinned at eachother for a moment, before pulling eachother into a tight embrace.
---
Raistlin's eyes glowed with triumph in reaction to RHL's glowering jealousy.
"Not only did I know George Harrison, I was close with him."
"It looks like it was more than that." Kaela, who had been relatively silent until that point, chuckled and pointed back to the screen with a delicate finger.
---
Raistlin's face turned to place a gentle kiss on George's cheek, his hand winding through the other man's. It was the picture of pure adoration and affection between the two musicians and...
---
The screen went blank with a sizzle and RHL's hands were crossed irritatedly over her chest, pouting.
"That was quite enough of that."
Raistlin and Kaela, on the other hand, disagreed.
"It was just getting to the good part, too!"
"This was your idea."
Overwhelmed by the two teaming up on her, RHL finally gave in.
"Yes, but it isn't fair; I was just a drunken teenager!"

Not nearly as cool as I was hoping it to be...

Cute, dearest. *smiles*

I love your writing. *snuggles*

[Dragonrider]

curly, I LOVE your letters.

*is feeling the urge to 'ship somebody*

*doesn't know what to do*

[Lex-Kat]

curly, I LOVE your letters.

*is feeling the urge to 'ship somebody*

*doesn't know what to do*

You can ship me anytime, anywhere.

[PhoeKun]

Beatrice and the Green Phoe

Part II-a

Spoiler

Show

This adventure had Curly of handsels first
When young was the year, for she loved to hear tales;
Though they wanted for words when they went to sup,
Now are fierce deeds to follow, their fists stuffed full.
Beatrice was glad to begin those games in hall,
But if the end be harsher, hold it no wonder,
For though men are merry in mind after much drink,
A year passes apace, and proves ever new:
First things and final conform but seldom.
And so this Yule to the young year yielded place,
And each season ensued at its set time;
After Christmas there came the cold cheer of Lent,
When with fish and plainer fare our flesh we reprove;
But then the world's weather with winter contends;
The keen cold lessens, the low clouds lift;
Fresh falls the rain in fostering showers
On the face of the fields; flowers appear.
The ground and the groves wear gowns of green;
Birds build their nests, and blithely sing
That solace of all sorrow with summer comes

ere long.
And blossoms day by day
Bloom rich and rife in throng;
Then every grove so gay
Of the greenwood rings with song.

And then the season of summer with soft winds,
When Zephyr sighs low over seeds and shoots;
Glad is the green plant growing abroad,
When the dew at dawn drops form the leaves,
To get a gracious glance from the golden sun.
But harvest with harsher winds follows hard after,
Warns him to ripen well ere winter comes;
Drives forth the dust in te droughty season,
From the face of the fields to fly high in the air.
Wroth winds in the welkin wrestle with the sun,
The leaves launch from the linden and light on the ground,
And the grass turns to grey that once grew green,
Then all ripens and rots that rose up at first,
And so the year moves on in yesterdays many,
And winter once more, by the world's law,

draws nigh.
At Michealmas the moon
Hangs wintry pale in sky;
Beatrice girds her soon
For travails yet to try.

Till All-Hallows Day with Curly she dwells,
And she held a high feast to honor that knight,
With great revels and rich, of the Round Table.
Then ladies lovely and lords debonair
With sorrow for Beatrice were sore at heart;
Yet they covered their care with countenence glad:
Many a mournful man made mirth for her sake.
So after supper soberly she speaks to her aunt
Of the hard hour at hand, and openly says,
"Now, liege lady of my life, my leave I take;
The terms of this test too well you know -
To count the cost over concerns me nothing.
But I am bound forth betimes to bear a stroke
From the grim woman in green."
Then the first and foremost came forth in the throng:
Kaelaroth and and RabbitHoleLost, and others of note,
Sir Cobra le Ikari, the Duke of Random Banter,
Lex-Kat and Lissou and LightWraith the good,
Sir Fri and Sir Frosty, big men both,
And many knights more, with Midnight de le Son.
All this courtly company comes to the queen
To counsel their comrade, with care in their hearts;
There was much secret sorrow suffered that day
That one so good as Beatrice must go in such wise
To bear a bitter blow, and her bright sword

lay by.
She said, "Why should I tarry?"
And smiled with tranquil eye;
"In destinies sad or merry,
true men can but try."

She dwealt there all that day, and dressed in the morning;
Asked early for her arms, and all were brought.
First a carpet of rare cost was cast on the floor
Where much goodly gear gleamed golden bright;
She takes her place promptly and picks up the steel,
Attired in a tight coat of Turkenstan silk
And a kingly cap-a-dos, closed at the throat,
That was lavishly lined with a lustrous fur.
Then they set the steel shoes on her sturdy feet
And clad her calves about with comely greaves,
And plate well-polished protected her knees,
Affixed with fastenings of the finest gold.
Fair cuisses enclosed, that were cunningly wrought,
Her thick-thewed thighs, with thongs bound fast,
And massy chain-mail of many a steel ring
She bore on her body above the best cloth,
With brace burnished bright upon both her arms,
Good counters and gay, with gloves of plate,
And all the goodly gear to grace her well

that tide.
Her surcoat blazoned bold;
Sharp spurs to prick with pride;
And a brave silk band to hold
The broadsword at her side.

When she had on her arms, her harness was rich,
The least latchet or loop laden with gold;
So armored she was.
Then she comes to the queen and her comrades-in-arms,
Takes her leave at last of lords and ladies,
And they clasped and kissed her.
By then Gringolet¹ was girt with a great saddle
That was gaily agleam with fine gilt fringe,
New-fursbished for the need with nail-heads bright;
The bridle and the bars bedeckled all with gold;
The breast-plate, the saddlebow, the side-panels both,
The caparison and crupper accorded in hue,
And all ranged on the red the resplendant studs
That glittered and glowed like the glorious sun.
Her helm now she holds up and hastily kisses,
Well closed within iron clinches, and cushioned within;
It was high on her head with a hasp behind,
And a covering of cloth to encase the visor,
All bound and embroidered with the best gems
On broad bands of silk and bordered with birds,
Parrots and poppinjays preening their wings,
Lovebirds and love-knots as lavishly wrought
As many women had worked seven winters thereon,

entire.
The diadem costlier yet
That crowned that comely sire,
With diamonds richly set,
That flashed as if on fire.

Then they showed forth the shield, that shown all red,
With the pentangle portrayed in purest gold.
About her neck by the baldric she casts it,
That was meet for the woman, and matched her well.
And why the pentangle is proper to that peerless princess
I intend now to tell, though detain me it must.
It is a sign by Solomon sagely devised
To be a token of truth, by its title of old,
For it is a figure formed of five points,
And each line is linked and locked with the next
For ever and ever, and hence it is called
In all Playground, as I hear, the endless knot.
And well may she wear it on her worthy arms,
For ever faithful five-fold in five-fold fashion
Was Beatrice in good works, as gold unalloyed,
Devoid of any villainy, with virtues adorned

in sight.
On shield and coat in view
She bore that emblem bright,
As to her word most true
And in speech most courteous knight.

And first, she was faultless in her five senses,
Nor found ever to fail in her five fingers,
And all her fealty was fixed upon the five wounds
That Christ got on the cross, as the creed tells;
And wherever this woman in melee took part,
Her one thought was of this, past all things else,
That all her force was founded on the five joys
That the high Queen of heaven had in her child.
And therefore, I find, she fittingly had
On the inner part of her shield her image portrayed,
That when her look on it lighted, she never lost heart.
The fifth of the five fives followed by this knight
Were beneficence boundless and brotherly love
And pure mind and manners that none might impeach,
And compassion most precious - these peerless five
Were forged and made fast in her, foremost of people.
Now all these five fives were confirmed in this knight,
And each linked in other, that end there was none,
And fixed to five points whose force never failed,
Nor assembled all on a side, nor assunder either,
Nor anywhere at an end, but whole and entire
However the pattern proceeded or played out its course.
And so on her shining shield shaped was the knot
Royally in red gold against red gules,
That is the peerless pentangle, prized of old

in lore.
Now armed is Beatrice gay,
And bears her lance before,
And soberly said good day,
She thought forevermore.

She struck her steed with the spurs and sped on her way
So fast that the flint-fire flashed from the stones.
When they saw her set forth they were sore aggrieved,
Fearing for their fellow, "Ill fortune it is
That you, Bea, must be marred, that most are worthy!
Her equal on this earth can hardly be found;
To have dealt more discreetly had done less harm,
And have dubbed her a duchess, with all due honor.
A great leader of lords she was like to become,
And better so to have been than battered to bits,
Beheaded by an elf-angel, for empty pride!
Who would credit that a queen could be counseled so,
And caught in a cavil in a Christmas game?"
Many were the warm tears they wept from their eyes
When goodly Beatrice was gone from the court

that day.
No longer she abode,
But speedily went her way
Over many a wandering road,
As I heard my author say.

Now she rides in her array through the realm of Ego Slayer,
Beatrice, though it gave her small joy!
All alone must she lodge through many a long night
Where the food that she fancied was far from her plate;
She had no mate but her mount, over mountain and plain,
Nor man to say her mind to,
Till she had wandered well-nigh into North Board Issues.
All the islands of Vs. Threads she holds on her left,
And follows, as she fares, the fords by the coast,
Comes over at Media Discussions, and enters next
The Wilderness of of You Threads - few were within
That had great good will toward man.
And earnestly she asked of each mortal she met
If he had ever heard aught of a Phoe all in green,
Or of a Green Chapel, on ground thereabouts,
And all said the same, and solemnly swore
They saw no such Phoe all solely in green

in hue.
Over country wild and strange,
The knight sets off anew;
Often her course must change
Ere the Chapel comes in view.

Many a cliff must she climb in country wild;
Far off from all her friends, forlorn must she ride;
At each strand or stream where the stalwart passed
'Twere a marvel if she met not with some monstrous foe,
And that so fierce and forbidding that fight she must.
So many were the wonders she wandered among
That to tell but the tenth part would tax my wits.
Now with serpents she wars, now with savage wolves,
Now with the wild men of the woods, that watched from the rocks,
Both with bulls and with bears, and with boars besides,
And giants that came gibbering from the jagged steeps.
Had she not bourne herself bravely,
She had met with many mishaps and mortal harms.
And if the wars were unwelcome, the winter was worse,
When the cold clear rains rushed from the clouds
And froze before they could fall to the frosty earth.
Near slain by the sleet she sleeps in her irons
More nights than enough, amond naked rocks,
Where clattering from the crest the cold stream ran
And hung in hard icicles high overhead.
Thus in peril across country till Christmas Eve,

our knight.
And at that holy tide
She prays with all her might
That Light may be her guide
Till a dwelling comes in sight.

By a mountain next morning she makes her way
Into a forest fastness, fearsome and wild;
High hills on either hand, with hoar woods below,
Oaks old and huge by the hundred together,
The hazel and the hawthorn were all intertwined
With rough raveled moss, that raggedly hung,
With many birds unblithe upon bare twigs
That peeped most piteously for pain of the cold.
The good knight on Gringolet glides thereunder
Through many a marsh and mire, a woman all alone;
She feared for her default, should she fail to see
Shelter of a sire on that same night.
No sooner had Beatrice thought thus thrice
Than she was ware, in the wood, of a woundrous dwelling,
Within a moat, on a mound, bright amid boughs
Of many a tree great of girth that grew by the water -
A castle as comely as a knight could own,
On grounds fair and green, in a goodly park
With a palisade of palings planted about
For two miles and more, round many a fair tree.
The stout knight stared at that stronghold great
As it shimmered and shone amind shining leaves,
Then with helmet in hand she offers her thanks
To all forces that watch her and are gentle both,
That in courteous accord had inclined to her prayer;
"Now fair harbor," said she, "I humbly beseech!"
Then she pricks her proud steed with the plated spurs,
And by chance she has chosen the chief path
That brought the bold knight to the bridge's end

in haste.
The bridge hung high in air;
The gates were bolted fast;
The walls well-framed to bear
The fury of the blast.

The woman on her mount remained on the bank
Of the deep double moat that defended the place.
The wall went in the water woundrous deep,
And a long way aloft it loomed overhead.
It was built of stone blocks to the battlements' height,
With corbels under cornices in comeliest style;
Watch-towers trusty protected the gate,
With many a lean loophole, to look from within:
A better-made barbican the knight beheld never.
And behind it there hoved a great hall and fair;
Turrets rising in tiers, with tines at their tops,
Spires set beside them, splendidly long,
With finials well-fashioned, as filigree fine.
Chalk-white chimneys over chambers high
Gleamed in gay array upon gables and roofs;
The pinnacles in panoply, pointing in air,
So vied there for her view that verily it seemed
A castle cut of paper for a king's feast.
The good knight on Gringolet thought it great luck
If she could but contrive to come there within
To keep the Christmas feast in that castle fair

and bright.
There answered to his call
A porter most polite;
From his station on the wall
He greets the errant knight.

"Good sir," said Beatrice, "Wouldst go to inquire
If your lord would allow me to lodge here a space?"
"Certainly!" said the porter. "For my part, I think
So noble a knight will not want for a welcome!"
Then he bustles off briskly, and comes back straight,
And many servants beside, to recieve her the better.
They let down the drawbridge and duly went forth
And kneeled down on their knees on the naked earth
To welcome this warrior as best they were able.
They proffered her passage - the portals stood wide -
And she beckoned them to rise, and rode over the bridge.
Men steadied her saddle as she stepped to the ground,
And there stabled her steed many stalwart folk.
Now come the knights and the noble squires
To bring her with bliss into the bright hall.
When her high helm was off, there hied forth a throng
Of attendants to take it, and see to its care;
They bore away her brand and her blazoned shield;
Then graciously she greeted those gallants each one,
And many a noble drew near, to do the knight honor.
All in her armor into hall she was led,
Where fire on a fair hearth fiercely blazed.
And soon the lady herself descends from her chamber
To meet with good manners to woman on her floor.
She said, "To this house you are heartily welcome:
What is here is wholly yours, to have in your power

and sway."

"Many thanks." said Beatrice;
"May I your pains repay!"
The two embrace amain
As girls well met that day.

Beatrice gazed on the host that greeted her there,
And a lusty person she looked, the lady of that place:
A woman of comely mold, and of middle age;
Long, bright was her hair, of a beaver's hue,
Strong, steady her stance, upon stalwart shanks,
Her face fierce as fire, fair-spoken withal,
And well-suited she seemed in Beatrice's sight
To be a master of men in a mighty keep.
They pass into a parlor, where promptly the hostess
Has a servant assigned to her to see to her needs,
And there came upon her call many courteous folk
That brought her to a bower where bedding was noble,
With heavy silk hangings hemmed all in gold,
Coverlets and counterpanes curiously wrought,
A canopy over the couch, clad all with fur,
Curtains running on cords, caught to gold rings,
Woven rugs on the walls of eastern work,
And the floor, under foot, well-furnished with the same.
With light talk and laughter they loosed from her then
Her war-dress of weight and her worthy clothes.
Robes richly wrought they brought her right soon,
To change there in chamber and choose what she would.
When she had found one she fancied, and flung it about,
Well-fashioned for her frame, with flowing skirts,
Her face fair and fresh as the flowers of spring,
All the good folk agreed, that gazed on her then,
Her limbs arrayed royally in radiant hues,
That so comely a mortal never was born

as she.
Whatever her place of birth,
It seemed she well might be
Without a peer on earth
In martial rivalry.

₁ Sorry folks. I can't give the horse a playgrounder name, too...

[PhoeKun]

Part II-b

Spoiler

Show

A couch before the fire, where fresh coals burned,
They spread for Beatrice spendidly now
With quilts quaintly stitched, and cushions beside,
And then a costly cloak they cast on her shoulders
Of bright silk, embroidered on borders and hems,
With furs of the finest well-furnished within,
And bound with ermine, both mantle and hood;
And she sat at that fireside in a sumptuous estate
And warmed herself well, and soon she waxed merry.
Then attendants set a table upon trestles broad,
And lustrous white linen they laid thereupon,
A saltcellar of silver, spoons of the same.
She washed herself well and went to her place,
Men set her fare before her in fashion most fit.
There were soups of all sorts, seasoned with skill,
Double-sized servings, and sundry fish,
Some baked, some breaded, some broiled on the coals,
Some simmered, some in stews, steaming with spice,
And with sauces to sup that suited her taste.
She confesses it a feast with free words and fair;
They requite her as kindly with courteous jests,

well-sped.
"Tonight you fast and pray;
Tomorrow we'll see you fed."
The knight grows wondrous gay
As te wine goes to her head.

Then at times and by turns, as at table she sat,
They questioned her quietly, with queries discreet,
And she courteously confessed that she comes from the court,
And owns her of the sisterhood of high-famed Curly,
The right royal ruler of the Round Table,
And the guest by their fireside is Beatrice herself,
Who has happened on their house at that holy feast.
When the name of the knight was made known to the lady,
Then loudly she laughed, so elated she was,
And the men in that household made haste with joy
To appear in her presence promptly that day,
That of courage ever-constant, and customs pure,
Is pattern and paragon, and praised without end:
Of all knights on earth most honored is she.
Each said solemnly aside to his brother,
"Now displayes of deportment shall dazzle our eyes
And the polished pearls of impeccable speech;
The high art of eloquence is ours to pursue
Since the mother of fine manners is found in our midst.
Great is our luck, and goodly indeed,
That a guest such as Beatrice comes to us here
When men sit and sing of the season's mirth

in view.
With command of manners pure
She shall each heart imbue;
Who shares her converse, sure,
Shall learn love's language true."

When te knight had done dining and duly arose,
The dark was drawing on; the day nigh ended.
Chaplains in chapels and churches about
Rang the bells aright, reminding all men
Of the holy evensong of the high feast.
The lady attends alone; her fair wife Lykan sits
In a comely closet, secluded from sight.
Beatrice in gay attire goes thither soon;
The lady catches her coat, and calls her by name,
And has her sit beside her, and says in good faith
No guest on earth would she gladlier greet.
For that Beatrice thanked her; the two then embraced
And sat together soberly the service through.
Then Lykan, who longed to look on the knight,
Come forth from her closet with her comely maids.
The fair hues of her flesh, her face and her hair
And her body and her bearing were beyond praise,
And excelled the queen herself, as Beatrice thought.
She goes forth to greet her with gracious intent;
Another lady led her by the left hand
That was older than she - an ancient, it seemed,
And held in high honor by all men about.
But unlike to look upon, these ladies were,
For if one was fresh, the other was faded:
Bedecked in bright red was the body of one;
Flesh hung in folds on the face of the other;
On one a high headdress, hung all with pearls;
Her bright throat and bosom fair to behold,
Fresh as the first snow fallen upon hills;
A wimple the other one wore round her throat;
Her swart chin well swaddled, swathed all in white;
Her forehead enfolded in flounces of silk
That framed a fair fillet, of fashion ornate.
And nothing bare beneath save the black brows,
The two eyes and the nose, the naked lips,
And they unsightly to see, and sorrily bleared.
A beldame, she may well be deemed,

of pride!
She was short and thick of waist,
Her buttocks round and wide;
More toothsome, to Bea's taste,
Was the beauty by her side.

When Beatrice has gazed on that gay lady,
With leave of her lady, she politely approached;
To the elder in homage she humbly bows;
The lovelier she salutes with a light embrace.
Bea claimes a comely kiss, and courteously she speaks;
They welcome her warmly, and straightaway she asks
To be received as their servant, should they so desire.
They take her between them; with talking they bring her
Beside a bright fire; bade then that spices
Be freely fetched forth, to refresh them the better,
And the good wine therewith, to warm their hearts.
The lady leaps about in light-hearted mood;
Contrives entertainments and timely sports;
Takes her hood from her head and hangs it on a spear,
And offers her the honor thereof
Who should promote the most mirth at that Christmas feast;
"And I shall try for it, trust me - contend with the best,
Ere I go without my headgear by grace of my friends!"
Thus with light talk and laughter the lady (named Phoebe) makes merry
To gladden the guest she had greeted in hall

that day.
At the last she called for light
The company to convey;
Beatrice says goodnight
And retires to bed straightaway.

On the morn when each person is mindful in heart
Of spirit of season, regardless of creed,
No household is blithe but for this blessed sake;
So was it there on that day, with many delights.
Both at larger meals ad less they were lavishly served
By doughty lads on dais, with delicate fare;
The old ancient lady, highest she sits;
The lady Phoebe at her left hand leaned, as I hear;
Beatrice at the center, beside the gay Lykan,
Where the food was brought first to that festive board,
And thence throughout the hall, as they held most fit,
To each one was offered in order of rank.
There was meat, there was mirth, there was much joy,
That to tell all the tale would tax my wits,
Though I pained me, perchance, to paint it with care;
But yet I know that our knight and the noble Lykan
Were accorded so closely in company there,
With the seemly solace of their secret words,
With speeches well-sped, spotless and pure,
That each prince's pastime their pleasures far

outshone.
Sweet pipes beguile their cares,
And the trumpet of martial tone;
Each tends his affairs
And those two tend their own.

That day and all the next, their disport was noble,
And the third day, I think, pleased them no less;
The joys of St John's Day were justly praised,
And were the last of their like for those lords and ladies;
Then guests were to go in the gray morning,
Wherefore they whiled the night away with wine and with mirth,
Moved to the measures of many a blithe carol;
At last, when it was late, took leave of each other,
Each one of those worthies, to wend their way.
Beatrice bids goodbye to her goodly hostess
Who brings her to her chamber, the chimney beside,
And detains her in talk, and tenders her thanks
And holds it an honor to her and her people
That she has harboured in her house at that holy time
And embellished her abode with her inborn grace.
"As long as I may live, my luck is the better
That Beatrice was my guest at Christmas feast!"
"Noble madame," says the knight, "I cannot but think
All the honor is your own - may heaven requite it!
And your woman to command I account myself here
As I am bound and beholden, and shall be, come

what may."

The lady with all her might
Entreats her guest to say;
Brief answer makes the knight:
Next morning she must away.

Then the lady of that land politely inquired
What dire affair had forced her, at that festive time,
So far from the queen's court to fare forth alone
Ere the holidays wholly had ended in hall.
"In good faith," said Beatrice, "you have guessed the truth:
On a high errand and urgent I hastened away,
For I am summoned by myself to seek for a place -
I would I knew whither, or where it might be!
For rather would I find it before the New Year
Than own the land of Ego Slayer, so help me!
Wherefore, ma'am, in friendship this favor I ask,
That you say in sober earnest, if something you know
Of the Green Chapel, on ground far or near,
Or the lone knight that lives there, of like hue of green.
A certain day was set by assent of us both
To meet at that landmark, if I might last,
And from now to the New Year is nothing too long,
And I would greet the Green Phoe there,
More gladly, than gain the world's wealth!
And I must set forth to search, as soon as I may;
To be about the business I have but three days
And would soon sink down dead as desist from my errand."
Then smiling said the lady, "Your search, ma'am, is done,
For we shall see you to that site by the set time.
Let Beatrice grieve no more over the Green Chapel;
You shall be in your own bed, in blissful ease,
All the forenoon, and fare forth the first of the year,
And make the goal by midmorn, to mind your affairs,

no fear!
Tarry till the fourth day
And ride on the first of the year.
We shall set you on your way;
It is not two miles from here."

Then Beatrice was glad, and gleefully she laughed:
"Now I thank you for this, past all things else!
Now my goal is here at hand! With a glad heart I shall
Both tarry, and undertake any task you devise."
Then the hostess seized her arm and seated her there;
Let the ladies be brought, to delight them the better,
And in fellowship fair by the fireside they sit;
So gay waxed the good hostess, so giddy her words,
All waited in wonder what next she would say.
Then she stares on the stout knight, and sternly she speaks:
"You have bound yourself boldly my bidding to do -
Will you stand by that boast, and obey me this once?"
"I shall do so indeed," said the goodly knight;
"While I lie in your lodging, your laws I will follow."
"As you have had," said Phoebe, "many hardships abroad
And little sleep of late, you are lacking, I judge,
Both in nourishment needful and nightly rest;
You shall lie abed late in your lofty chamber
Tomorrow until mass, and meet then to dine
When you will, with my wife, who will it by your side
And talk with you at table, the better to cheer

our guest.
A-hunting I will go
While you lie late and rest."

The knight, inclining low,
Assents to each behest.

"And Beatrice," said the good hostess, "agree now to this:
Whatever I win in te woods I will give you at eve,
And all you have earned you must offer to me;
Sweat now, sweet friend, to swap as I say,
Whether hands, in the end, be empty or better."
"Of course!" said Beatrice, "I grant it forthwith!
If you find the game good, I shall gladly take part."
"Let the bright wine be brought, and our bargain is done,"
Said the lady of that land - the two laughed together.
Then they drank and they dallied and doffed all constraint,
These ladies, as late as they chose,
And then with gaiety and gallantries and graceful adieux
They talked in low tones, and tarried at parting.
With compliments comely they kiss at the last;
There were brisk lads about with blazing torches
To see them safe to bed, for soft repose

long due.
Their covenents, yet awhile,
They repeat, and pledge anew;
That lady could well beguile
Men's hearts, with mirth in view.

Coming soon: the every virtuous Beatrice is alone in the castle with Lykan for three days! What passions might unfold? Will Phoebe kill a boar? A deer? Will she tie an oddly named fox to a stick? Is that even canon? Stay tuned, and find out.

Comments are very much appreciated, everyone. It's difficult to explain exactly how much work I'm putting into this...

[Lyinginbedmon]

I'm still waiting

[randman22222]

You know, after my current shipfic, I'm thinking of changing 'mediums'. I want to write some music...

[SMEE]

Phoebe, dear, I'm loving the tale. It's great.

Now... every virtuous Beatrice? Only in fiction indeed.

[Dihan]

I'm still waiting

Darn you! I thought Salmon was back!

Anyway. Me and Calamity should be shipped again. Not that the first one wasn't good, I want a longer one!... Please?

[Calamity]

Anyway. Me and Calamity should be shipped again. Not that the first one wasn't good, I want a longer one!... Please?

I support this idea.

[randman22222]

I'm still waiting

It's coming! I'm writing it as we speak. You're not one of the main characters, but it's coming nonetheless.

EDIT: Oh joy. Writer's block again.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Well.
Let's adress something I never expected to come up. I received some PMs in response to some of the Letters, mainly guessing as to whom 'I' was writing to or (in a few cases) apologising for no reason.
So I shall say this once more:
The letters, though realistic, are not intended for anyone at all. They are realistic (surprisingly so considering the number of PMs I've got), the Harsh One was based on one Best Friend got (but adapted for romance) and most importantly of all, the names are chosen at random for the most part.
I try my hardest to match to name mentioned to the letter wrote, and only added my name to the first letter because I couldn't think of who to say it was from.
But I won't stop writing the Letters. Just know that they're not intended for anyone in particular.

@Phoe: *stunned silence*
Encore!

@DRider: thankee, thankee.

And now for a fic based on a mutual favourite of the two involved. The title is, aside from the pronoun change, as direct a quote as I can do without looking it up.

Curly/DRider:

Her Hair. It's Soft Like Feathers

Spoiler

Show

Her breath didn't rasp like sandpaper being dragged across concrete any more. And her face was no longer torn between flushing a bloody red and draining to chill ice. Curly hated it when the lady's face did that. It made her think of her brother, left behind in a cold grave with no Mama or sister to look after him. He never knew his Papa so that was okay. And the red made her think of that flag that took her real Mama away. And of the blood she left behind on her brother's blank grave.
But the lady wasn't ill any more. Papa had said that she had nearly died down in that dank cellar with the ropy cloud anchoring the painted sun to the sky.

Winter was too cold down there. It bit and gnawed at the skin.
Even her and her new Papa with the silver eyes didn't go down there in the winter. Mama and Papa didn't want the lady down there either; but she had insisted.
But she came up for the fires at night. Trying to melt away the ice around her soul, melt away the guilt. Trying to keep warmth locked inside before she returned to that prison cellar.
And then they saw that she was ill. Deathly ill. She and Papa and Mama didn't want her to die. They cared for the Jew lady who arrived on their doorstep grey with terror.
And they didn't know what to do with the corpse of a dead one. "We can't just say we found it in the cellar!" she hear her Mama hiss to Papa one night as the two of them huddled in the kitchen, thinking she was asleep. Papa only rolled another cigarette and said he knew.
That night she had walked over to the sleeping lady and touched her hair. It was like twigs. Long, crackly twigs.
She wanted the lady to get better. She didn't want another person in her family to die or get taken away from her.

But the lady was better now. And after four days Mama had given the broken lady a bath to get away the scent of illness and the almost-death.
She was sleeping now. Timidly the little girl reached out to touch the hair scattered over the hard pillow. It was so beautiful, so curly like a living thing, so soft.
"Curly," said the soft voice of her Papa, "Let DRider sleep."
"Papa. Her hair. it's soft like feathers."
DRider, having drifted awake while the girl had stroked her hair smiled and her swampy green eyes had smiled beneath her eyelids. And she let her lips smile too. And then she slept again.

And if you don't know the book, and the scenes I amalgamated together I shall disown own you as my almost - twin.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Curly: I know I've read it. There's something amazingly familiar about it, but I just can't put a name to it.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Curly: I know I've read it. There's something amazingly familiar about it, but I just can't put a name to it.

At least you've read it. Prolly. I wrote about it in my blog recently.
It's a shame I can't write anything near as good as the author in question though.

[Kaelaroth]

Death, himself, would be proud, Curly. That's good, very good. If not our favourite incarnation of doom, then Zusak would be.

[Dragonrider]

Curly/DRider:

Her Hair. It's Soft Like Feathers

Spoiler

Show

Her breath didn't rasp like sandpaper being dragged across concrete any more. And her face was no longer torn between flushing a bloody red and draining to chill ice. Curly hated it when the lady's face did that. It made her think of her brother, left behind in a cold grave with no Mama or sister to look after him. He never knew his Papa so that was okay. And the red made her think of that flag that took her real Mama away. And of the blood she left behind on her brother's blank grave.
But the lady wasn't ill any more. Papa had said that she had nearly died down in that dank cellar with the ropy cloud anchoring the painted sun to the sky.

Winter was too cold down there. It bit and gnawed at the skin.
Even her and her new Papa with the silver eyes didn't go down there in the winter. Mama and Papa didn't want the lady down there either; but she had insisted.
But she came up for the fires at night. Trying to melt away the ice around her soul, melt away the guilt. Trying to keep warmth locked inside before she returned to that prison cellar.
And then they saw that she was ill. Deathly ill. She and Papa and Mama didn't want her to die. They cared for the Jew lady who arrived on their doorstep grey with terror.
And they didn't know what to do with the corpse of a dead one. "We can't just say we found it in the cellar!" she hear her Mama hiss to Papa one night as the two of them huddled in the kitchen, thinking she was asleep. Papa only rolled another cigarette and said he knew.
That night she had walked over to the sleeping lady and touched her hair. It was like twigs. Long, crackly twigs.
She wanted the lady to get better. She didn't want another person in her family to die or get taken away from her.

But the lady was better now. And after four days Mama had given the broken lady a bath to get away the scent of illness and the almost-death.
She was sleeping now. Timidly the little girl reached out to touch the hair scattered over the hard pillow. It was so beautiful, so curly like a living thing, so soft.
"Curly," said the soft voice of her Papa, "Let DRider sleep."
"Papa. Her hair. it's soft like feathers."
DRider, having drifted awake while the girl had stroked her hair smiled and her swampy green eyes had smiled beneath her eyelids. And she let her lips smile too. And then she slept again.

And if you don't know the book, and the scenes I amalgamated together I shall disown own you as my almost - twin.

That isso awesome. Of course I know what it is! And it's so cool! *love love love* that book.


Edit: any effort to write a shipfic will be severely delayed, as I am in the midst of a crucial part of my "real" writing. 4000 words in the last 2 hours. And while quantity does not equal quality, it feels right. Yay for that!

[Kaelaroth]

Apologies, I'm tired. But read this mediocre effort anyway.

Meetings: A follow-up, to A Mere Conversation.

Spoiler

Show

17:22
The girl, hair auburn, eyes joyful, stepped off the bus, and looked up at the shopping centre, many miles from home. In her hand was a scrap of paper, slightly ruffled, from the constant rereads and merry clutches. Not even the foul weather could stop her; the foreboding grey sky, which crackled with faraway lightning did not fase her, as she skipped into the building, smoothing her new dress as she did so.

17:41
Curly grinned. This was the day. Today! Yaay! She sat in the small cafe, at a wooden table, staring at her coffee, ripe with delight, clutching the letter in hand. That little cafe, by the bookshop? See you then. Today was the day she'd see him again.

17:42
Curly grinned happily as her little biscuity, crumbley thing arrived, which she nervously picked apart with her bitten-nailed fingers. Admittedly, she was early, but she was still anxious. He'd said he'd been thinking of her!

18:00
Her watch blipped angrily, snarling up at her, but she ignored it, her joy undented. He'd be here soon, and not even the rain hammering against the plexiglass above, or the odd looks of the serving staff could worry her.

18:42
Coffee, cold.

19:53
The doors of the shopping centre burst open, and the girl burst out into the rain, her hair instantly cringing under the water, her dress clinging to her, like a second skin. Her mascara (a first time buy, eagerly applied), morphed to panda eyes, but, at least, her tears were indistinguishable from the rain. As she got on the bus, a kindly lady gave up her seat, but Curly stayed standing, as she threw a crumpled ball of paper out onto the puddled pavements. And as the vehicle pulled away, taking Curly out o' this wretched city, Bath's letter melted away, as the rain fell.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Apologies, I'm tired. But read this mediocre effort anyway.

Meetings: A follow-up, to A Mere Conversation.

Spoiler

Show

17:22
The girl, hair auburn, eyes joyful, stepped off the bus, and looked up at the shopping centre, many miles from home. In her hand was a scrap of paper, slightly ruffled, from the constant rereads and merry clutches. Not even the foul weather could stop her; the foreboding grey sky, which crackled with faraway lightning did not fase her, as she skipped into the building, smoothing her new dress as she did so.

17:41
Curly grinned. This was the day. Today! Yaay! She sat in the small cafe, at a wooden table, staring at her coffee, ripe with delight, clutching the letter in hand. That little cafe, by the bookshop? See you then. Today was the day she'd see him again.

17:42
Curly grinned happily as her little biscuity, crumbley thing arrived, which she nervously picked apart with her bitten-nailed fingers. Admittedly, she was early, but she was still anxious. He'd said he'd been thinking of her!

18:00
Her watch blipped angrily, snarling up at her, but she ignored it, her joy undented. He'd be here soon, and not even the rain hammering against the plexiglass above, or the odd looks of the serving staff could worry her.

18:42
Coffee, cold.

19:53
The doors of the shopping centre burst open, and the girl burst out into the rain, her hair instantly cringing under the water, her dress clinging to her, like a second skin. Her mascara (a first time buy, eagerly applied), morphed to panda eyes, but, at least, her tears were indistinguishable from the rain. As she got on the bus, a kindly lady gave up her seay, but Curly stayed standing, as she threw a crumpled ball of paper out onto the puddled pavements. And as the vehicle pulled away, taking Curly out o' this wretched city, Bath's letter melted away, as the rain fell.

D:
Two wee things - 1) I hate coffee, 2) I never bite my nails. I love the detail with which you wrote it though; my new redheadedness, the Londonphobia (it is London right), the lot. Got her/my anticipation across very well.
One enooooormous thing: Why? You - and - it - but we - and. And the way you wrote it even made me tear up. And the prequel was so happy. And then you -
Curse you and that ending! Way to put someone through a wringer. Fiction!Curly made Real!Curly upset for her other self.
Kaela/Bath/Everyone: don't you dare do that to anyone ever.

Bloody brilliant writing as ever though.

[PhoeKun]

It made me tear up, too. If I have any advice to offer, it's to let that bitter note be the end of that story. To continue would be to have Bath show up late from traffic, or go to the wrong cafe, or slept in, or had some excuse or another. And even if it can go on without an excuse, it won't match the poignancy of that moment. Not without grinding its heel into the throat of the reader... and that's needlessly cruel.

I'll say well done, Kaela. Now please don't write something like that again.

Minor update: I won't be writing anymore for a bit. I'm rather depressed about it right now...