Library, Sunday

[gavegoodface]

Sadly, due to his library shift, Face couldn't spend his Sunday building yurts and futons out at the campgrounds. Instead he had to spend it in the library, reading and stacking shelves.

Tragic that. Simply tragic.

Comments

Re: Talk to Face

[gavegoodface]

"Neruda, he was an Earth poet." Just in case she was under the mistaken impression he'd written it himself.

"There's more to it," he added, before starting in on the next stanza.

"Do not take away the rose,
The lance flower that you pluck,
The water that suddenly
Bursts forth in joy,
The sudden wave
Of silver born in you."

Re: Talk to Face

[seeks_truth]

Cassandra put her elbows down on the counter and cushioned her chin on her hands. "It's beautiful," she said.

Re: Talk to Face

[gavegoodface]

Face flashed a grin at her. "That's a relief, I'm only about a third through, it'd be awkward finishing if you didn't like it." Look, there was a reason this particular poem had spoken to him.

"My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life."

He kept his voice low, resisting the urge to declaim that he might have given into under other circumstances.

"My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword."

Re: Talk to Face

[seeks_truth]

Cassandra sighed.

She would never admit she had sighed, of course, but she did.

Re: Talk to Face

[gavegoodface]

And Face would never bring up that she sighed. Unless he wanted her to punch him. Which was always a possibility.

"Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

"Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die."

As he finished the last line, he went in for the kiss, because of course he did.

Re: Talk to Face

[seeks_truth]

Cassandra was more than happy to let him, because of course she was.

She cupped the back of his head and leaned into it, in fact.

Re: Talk to Face

[gavegoodface]

Face grinned into the kiss, palms flat against the desk for balance.

Yeah, this had definitely been a better choice of poem than one of the ones that used bread/breast similes.

Re: Talk to Face

[seeks_truth]

Much, much better.

Cassandra kissed him again, her fingers messing idly with the hair at his nape.

Re: Talk to Face

[gavegoodface]

There's been at least two of them, guy had had a thing for boobs and bread.

Face shivered, not unpleasantly, and gave a pleased little hum as he nipped gently at Cassandra's lower lip.

Re: Talk to Face

[seeks_truth]

Well, Cassandra wasn't exactly buxom, nor did she have any bread.

Nor a particularly great deal of experience with being kissed, which was why having her lip nipped at elected a little, surprised gasp.

Not a bad gasp, but still.

Re: Talk to Face

[gavegoodface]

To be fair, Face's actual experience didn't extend much beyond kissing.

But he was very dedicated to being good at the parts he was familiar with.