Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Aug 29, 2009 20:41:44 GMT -6
Of Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax--Cabbages and Kings.
"And why the sea is boiling, and whether pigs have wings!" The pirate spoke across the gypsy fire burning brightly in the night, into the hearts of every Roma born son, and moon given daughter. Their eyes were wide, full of the adventure placed out by their 'King'. The golden haired gypsy born from the stars, and delivered by the golden rays of the sun.
His story rose when he did towards the heavens his arms reached to tell the tale once again of the dragon born prince, and his unicorn bride. Never once did the small mouths question for eyes only ever sold the truth. The fireside story, became not only of tradition, but for many it was their lullaby--written by the stars and sung by a scoundrel. The night had come to a full scale, reaching it's peak as each dirty faced child was placed upon their respected caravan camps, and dreamed of only happy things.
The fires would not die.
Embers burned brightly under the heated flames that lashed at the sky as if being tormented. It was an angry death, one that none should suffer, and as the pirate listened to the wind move through the trees; he was as well lulled into a sleepless dream. It was a time of long ago, where he walked the woods with a golden haired maiden, on a night much like this. This story would remain just as it was--a memory, brought to the surface only when forced. There had been many nights just as this, where he stood before a fire, or under an old tree--he felt for certain he heard her laughter. Time had come to heal all, but forever would his mind wonder over the memories like a hand brushing an old scar. Though the pain was gone, the reminder was there.
In the briefest moments today in the sun he watched as the leaves turned from green to gold, their autumn had started where his had left off. This was when he suffered the most, pushing away his entire world just to sit in his corner for only a little while. Peregrine was always known for his laughter, his smile to warm the coldest of hearts, captivating it had served him well--keeping his bed warm in the night, and his company entertained.
"One day someone will capture you again..hold you in their hand, but not for long..For who can hold the wind, hmm?"
He had pushed her away, the one who held him in her hands. He had pushed her back into her life, stepping away..running away with his tail tucked. He had fallen in love. In all her glory, in all her shame; somewhere a thin line was drawn that he dare cross. Adventurous. Fool. Rosalind, made it so easy, by making it so hard. She had not wanted him, refused his cheap tricks and tactless lines, turning up her nose as any born of wealth had leaned forced away fools as this.
Rosalind, had always been so simple, her hair pinned up--her gown plain, but it was in the night--while she slept did he marvel at her beauty the most. He thought of her then, how the moon would bathe her skin soaking upon her flesh, brushing it with gold though her color silver. He thought of how her hair spilled out over the fine fabrics of her bed clothes, and how she held tightly a pillow against her chest--waiting, wishing. He thought then of how dark her lashes looked against the pale surface of her cheeks, and how her lips were the color of a red red rose, when the night covered her in it's shadow.
She was so strong, always so cold to him, confusing him--doubting her love. Rosalind, was not so open with her heart, not for the world to see, just for him. He liked to think, it had always been that way, but she had loved another--lived for many--but loved so few. She had been married twice before, her son born out of neither, but he could never think any less of her. Had it been so easy to let them go? Finding duty before pleasure, but Colban's words made him think otherwise. Her son's father, thought very little of him, thought him to sporadic to do just to her duties, but how wrong he would be.
It was not like the wind to put out the flame, but to breathe life into it's beauty--pulling it back when it lost control.
Standing abruptly the small chatter surrounding him soon faded, becoming a distant hum in the thick path that lead through the trees--their branches calling with ancient songs, but tonight he would find no comfort in their loving embrace--simply the high he needed to get by.
The only comfort he wished was the silken sheets and the warm arms of the woman he loves..but he had told her to lock the window--his behavior had even perhaps thrown away the key.
