Equius Zahhak (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stayb100ponyboy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caughtinanetwork2012-02-21 09:47 pm
stayb100ponyboy) wrote in caughtinanetwork2012-02-21 09:47 pm
Time for some culture, everyone
[The camera flicks on, showing a young troll sitting down, a large book open on his crossed legs. There's a stack of books behind him, and the gentle lighting and general hush all around him indicate that he's in the library.]
I found this book of human poetry, and found a beautiful poem. I had no idea you humans had it in you. This is true highblood lyricism; if I didn't know better, I would think this Samuel Taylor Coleridge fellow was a blueblood.
[He clears his throat, then begins reading from the book.]
To a Young Ass, Its Mother Being Tethered Near It, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
Poor little Foal of an oppresséd race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head.
But what thy dulled spirits hath dismay'd,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young)
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic fears anticipate,
Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate?
The starving meal, and all the thousand aches
'Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes'?
Or is thy sad heart thrill'd with filial pain
To see thy wretched mother's shorten'd chain?
And truly, very piteous is her lot--
Chain'd to a log within a narrow spot,
Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen,
While sweet around her waves the tempting green!
Poor Ass! thy master should have learnt to show
Pity--best taught by fellowship of Woe!
For much I fear me that He lives like thee,
Half famish'd in a land of Luxury!
How askingly its footsteps hither bend?
It seems to say, 'And have I then one friend?'
Innocent foal! thou poor despis'd forlorn!
I hail thee Brother--spite of the fool's scorn!
And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell
Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell,
Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride,
And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side!
How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,
And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay!
Yea! and more musically sweet to me
Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!
[He carefully closes the book, his face as close to beaming as he's willing to get in public.]
Magnificent.
I found this book of human poetry, and found a beautiful poem. I had no idea you humans had it in you. This is true highblood lyricism; if I didn't know better, I would think this Samuel Taylor Coleridge fellow was a blueblood.
[He clears his throat, then begins reading from the book.]
To a Young Ass, Its Mother Being Tethered Near It, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
Poor little Foal of an oppresséd race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head.
But what thy dulled spirits hath dismay'd,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young)
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic fears anticipate,
Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate?
The starving meal, and all the thousand aches
'Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes'?
Or is thy sad heart thrill'd with filial pain
To see thy wretched mother's shorten'd chain?
And truly, very piteous is her lot--
Chain'd to a log within a narrow spot,
Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen,
While sweet around her waves the tempting green!
Poor Ass! thy master should have learnt to show
Pity--best taught by fellowship of Woe!
For much I fear me that He lives like thee,
Half famish'd in a land of Luxury!
How askingly its footsteps hither bend?
It seems to say, 'And have I then one friend?'
Innocent foal! thou poor despis'd forlorn!
I hail thee Brother--spite of the fool's scorn!
And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell
Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell,
Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride,
And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side!
How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,
And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay!
Yea! and more musically sweet to me
Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!
[He carefully closes the book, his face as close to beaming as he's willing to get in public.]
Magnificent.
and suddenly you saw *nothing* also private
D --> Neither of them are
private
D --> They're being rude
private
D --> Nothing better can be expected from them
D --> But for now you must simply be polite and let them think they're better
D --> I still have a use for the braggart yet
private
D --> Okay
D --> Are you going to stab him in the back
private
private
private
private
D --> I want to help
private
D --> Complicated
D --> I do not want you to get involved as much as I am
private
private
D --> Yes
D --> Although you do want to be careful with toying with your kismesis' matesprit
private
[He just didn't want Darkleer having all the fun without him.]
D --> I know, that complicates things
D --> Hey
D --> I found a poem about us
private
private
D --> One moment
[Equius switches from text to video.]
It's by a human poet who was quite famous.
Eleven November, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Centaur, Sagittarius, am I,
Born of Ixion's and the cloud's embrace;
With sounding hooves across the earth I fly,
A steed Thessalian with a human face.
Sharp winds the arrows are with which I chase
The leaves, half dead already with affright;
I shroud myself in gloom; and to the race
Of mortals bring no comfort or delight.
[He looks up from his reading and points to the sign on his shirt.]
See, it's about Sagittarius, and that's us.
private
It was very nice, Equius. Thank you for it. Sagittarius is the word for our sign then?
private
See, there are stars around Earth that the humans named after us, and they know our signs, and assign our signs to themselves. Do you know Dave Strider? He's a Sagittarius.
private
private
[Equius sets his SFC down and walks away. A few minutes later, he's back with another book, which he opens and flips through until he finds the part he wants.]
Humans borns between November twenty-second and December twenty-first are Sagittarius. I'm... not quite sure what November and December are; maybe they're the human names for the perigrees? Here's what it says about us:
Independence is Sagittarius' principle, they crave adventure and excitement and welcome change with open arms. Sagittarius is the sign of the philosopher and the explorer, they will go as far as road will go and explore every corner thoroughly in their ever eternal search for wisdom. Freedom is so important to Sagittarius that they will actually make decisions based on the amount of freedom that is given by the choice they have made, as a result, sometimes a good opportunity is turned down because of it's high commitment need, but this is their choice so it is a good choice for them.