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The FiferWhat cheerful tune rose through your head, Édouard,
as your brush and paint knives marched with military precision
up and down the rough terrain of the canvas-fields?
What hypnotic movement of dancing fingers compelled you
to cadence color with bold marshaling strokes,
setting them en route to picturesque victory?
Whatever this music was is lost to the ears,
and the young guardsman has now marched past with imperial discipline
alongside the rest of his company, out of hearing range.
The mental orchestra stops, and in its stead
the hubbub of street chitchat falls back into place.
Luckily for you, your sketchbook has managed to trace the score.
You return to your studio with eyes raised high,
ready to set to work.
The commander does not complain when you ask for one of his boys
to pose in front of the canvas with his edgeless, fireless weapon poised,
raised to his lips at the ready.
Even though his instrument is far removed from a musket,
you tremble at its sound rising to meet you
RNI“Why did you call me?”
“Your mom’s in the hospital.”
“… What happened?”
“It’s her heart. She’s in ICU.”
“Yeah, but what happened, Dad?”
“Honestly, kid, I don’t know.” His father sounded hoarse. “You know she’s been like this for the longest time.”
Ian stayed quiet.
“… I’ll cover your plane tickets, Ian. She wants to see you.”
“What would be a convenient day for you?”
“I’ll buy the ticket, Dad. I’ll be home by Saturday.”
“Okay. Just call me when you figure it out, so I can go to the airport to pick you up.”
“I’ll say hi to your mom for you.”
“Stay safe, Ian.”
“I will. See you soon, Dad.”
Ian Che hung up the phone. The dust motes flew apart in their vortices as he breathed out a sigh into
Luna's ReplyHow my deeds pain me as time stretches long
How could I have hurt them this way?
So rest easy now, my punishment’s mine
The weight of my crimes are my own
But into that stillness you brought me your song
With your voice my company kept
For your tired eyes and sweet lullabies
In exile I pay you my debt
Once did a pony who gleamed like the moon
Look out on her kingdom and sigh
Dejected she cried, “Surely there is no pony
“Who loves me, or finds any love in my night.”
So great was her pain, she rose in rebellion
Against those who cared for her most
She let the Nightmare fall on those she ruled
And threatened to grip them in permanent cold
Lullay, dear Tia, good night sister mine
Rest now in starlight’s embrace
May this cool lullaby reach you in dreams
And ease you your passage of days
May my apologies find you this night
And may my sorrow in kind
Tia, you loved me much more than I knew
Forgive me for being so blind
Soon did her sister do what was demanded
(In Normandy, Amelia goes to see Kaidan first. She approaches him.)
Kaidan: Commander. Can I ask you something... personal?
Amelia: What's on your mind, Kaidan?
Kaidan: Well, I just... Do you think we have something special? You're special to me, Shepard. But I don't see myself measuring up...
Amelia: What do you mean? Of course you do.
Kaidan: I know, Commander. But there's something in the air I see around you that says that I'm not really on your mind as much as I could be.
Amelia: Kaidan, that's not true. I like you a lot. You're a sweetheart.
Kaidan: I appreciate that. But maybe it's not the right time for us right now. I know maybe it's none of my business, but maybe you've got something else on your mind you might want to take care of. *Pauses* ...I don't want to say anything else, Commander. You're in charge of your life here.
Amelia: ...You're right, Kaidan. But I will talk to you again later.
Kaidan: I'll be here.
(Amelia leaves to see Garrus downstairs and slowly watches him
Blue RoseBlue Rose of Illium,
entwine me with your thorns,
for the scars you leave on my skin
give more honor than battle-wounds.
Let my hands carry you
from the shadows of steel towers
into the hot sunshine,
so your petals may grow deep in color,
your leaves and stems more supple,
your roots firmly gripping the earth
where love plants you.
Blue Rose of Illium,
may I die with your name on my lips,
and fall close to where you stand
so my blood may enrich your soil,
and my bones wall you
against any who would uproot you
without knowing your true worth.
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More