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Post by Jimmeh on Apr 24, 2010 0:52:51 GMT -5
Within seconds Arthur had lost both Francis and Matthew in the crowd. Certainly, one of them was probably having the time of their life, he thought, and if not, perhaps it would be his turn. Carefully making his way to the edge of the cluster of various people, he caught sight of Kiku behind him. He was unfamiliar to the Englishman--there was no way to tell he was a Capulet or not, since he was surrounded by people from various houses. Arthur turned to a stray, somehow bored-looking servant, an eager tone in his voice. "What man is that, which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?" His glance was barely focused on the other man he had mentioned--half his attention was fixated on Kiku, and the other half on pretending to be only mildly interested.
"I know not, sir."
"O, he doth teach the torches to burn bright," Arthur breathed. In his daze, he nodded politely towards the servant before turning to speak to no one in particular, watching keenly. " It seems he hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. The measure done, I'll watch his place of stand, and, touching his, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!" He paused briefly before taking a deep breath and beginning to take a few hesitant steps forward, and muttering: "For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."
From across the room, Gilbert stiffened, overhearing Arthur speaking to himself. "That, by his voice, should be a Montague," he growled under his breath, before getting the attention of the servant, who had been standing dumbfounded. "Fetch me my rapier, boy," he snapped, and turned on his heel, not taking any steps, but looming in a small bout of anger while he waited for his sword to be brought to him. "What dares the slave come hither, cover'd with an antic face, to fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, to strike him dead, I hold it not a sin."
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Post by Tiger on Apr 24, 2010 13:37:27 GMT -5
The social circle in which Roderich had been conversing broke apart when one of the noblemen noticed that a lizard had crawled into his boot. He ran away, screaming, while the others scattered. Roderich, meanwhile, shook his head and wandered across the hall just in time to catch Gilbert's demand for his rapier and the growling thereafter. "Why, how now, kinsman?" he asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head a bit to the left. "Wherefore storm you so?" Clearly, he had had just enough schnapps to make him forget the Prussian's short temper and love of mischief; under normal circumstances he would not even have to ask when this sort of thing happened.
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Post by Jimmeh on Apr 24, 2010 15:53:19 GMT -5
"Uncle," he began, gesturing with a limp hand towards Arthur behind him, who was mingling with a few others who had greeted him in the crowd. His talking grew faster as he continued, nearly seething with anger. "this is a Montague, our foe, a villain that is hither come in spite, to scorn at our solemnity this night."
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Post by Tiger on Apr 24, 2010 20:46:07 GMT -5
"Young...uh..." He paused, trying to recall the Montague's name. "Arthur, is it?" Despite his deep-seated hatred for members of the opposing house, he never really concerned himself with knowing what they called themselves. Surely they cared about such epithets no more than he did, and surely none of it mattered at all. Very few things really mattered to him.
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Post by Jimmeh on Apr 25, 2010 0:09:37 GMT -5
Gilbert nodded curtly, shifting his weight between his feet to contain his growing anger. Briefly, he wondered what could possibly taking the servant so long to find his sword--it was only quick change between rooms to take it and bring it back. Perhaps time was passing slower at that moment, he thought, just to torment him. "'Tis he, that villain Arthur."
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Post by Tiger on Apr 25, 2010 12:55:47 GMT -5
"Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone," said Roderich, remaining perfectly content and peaceable. "He bears him like a portly gentleman, and, to say truth, Verona brags of him to be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth. I would not for the wealth of all the town here in my house do him disparagement! Therefore, be patient; take no note of him. It is my will"--here his voice grew lower, quieter, and more serious--"the which if thou respect, show a fair presence and put off these frowns and ill-beseeming semblance for a feast."
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Post by Jimmeh on Apr 25, 2010 15:39:21 GMT -5
"It fits, when such a villain is a guest," Gilbert replied bitterly, stopping his motions and settling with clenching and unclenching his hands. It was not very rare that he would get himself worked up over something that had not entirely been deciphered or understood, like Arthur's appearance, and the brandy he had ingested earlier was not easing his anger in the slightest. "I'll not endure it!"
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Post by Tiger on Apr 27, 2010 20:56:04 GMT -5
"He shall be endured!" shouted Roderich, taking a step forward as though he was thinking about seizing Gilbert by the collar of his shirt. "What, goodman boy! I say, he shall...go to--am I the master here, or you?--go to; you'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!" He whirled around and paced down a few steps before turning back and assuming his previous stance. "You'll make a mutiny among my guests!"
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Post by Jimmeh on Apr 28, 2010 17:16:58 GMT -5
Gilbert took a few steps back tentatively--even someone as reckless as him knew it was best not advised to drive Roderich into one of his infamous moods, especially under the influence of a few schnapps. Nonetheless, he held his ground, although he injected a slightly saccharine tone into his voice. It was not the best tactic to resort to, but it would have to suffice for starting a scuffle about it. "Why, uncle, 'tis a shame."
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Post by Tiger on Apr 30, 2010 20:28:14 GMT -5
"Go to, go to," Roderich grumbled, wringing his hands in irritation. "You are a saucy boy--is't so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what: you must contrary me!--Marry, 'tis time. Well said, my hearts!--You are a princox; go, be quiet or--more light, more light!--for shame, I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!" With a final glare at Gilbert, he trotted off to attend to the obscure baron of an obscure town whom he had been carrying on the secondary conversation with.
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Post by Jimmeh on May 2, 2010 0:43:56 GMT -5
"Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting!" Gilbert half-shouted towards Roderich, but paused. The servant, who had reappeared, hesitantly handed him his sword, but he flicked it away, irked. "I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall," he muttered to himself, and stepped back into the crowd to force a conversation with a few other guests.
Wearing a grin he hoped seemed thoughtful but appeared to be more reckless than anything else, Arthur edged his way past a few passing dancers, murmuring soft apologies to those he bumped into. He nearly feared that the straight line he moved in towards Kiku, though he seemed to be looking off in several other directions, would look blunt if he were to be noticed. After a few more steps, he was within talking distance of the Capulet. Bowing his head politely first, he delicately brushed Kiku's hand, proud of the act he was putting up. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." [/color] [/size]
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Post by Tiger on May 2, 2010 16:11:25 GMT -5
A faint red color rose in Kiku's cheeks and his hand tensed but he did not draw it back. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this: for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch...and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss." He spoke a bit slyly, stringing together the syllables carefully, thinking over every word like he always did. Above all he was interested in this stranger, who seemed so...so...he could not even think of a word to describe Arthur; he seemed drawn to him like iron filings to a magnet.
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Post by Jimmeh on May 2, 2010 17:50:43 GMT -5
"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?" Arthur asked thoughtfully, glancing out towards the crowd. He was not talented in wit, but these words came naturally to him--it was an actual question, in its own right, he thought. This was the first time he had ever acted so relaxed in front of someone--perhaps, he wondered, this man was more than just a pretty face.
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Post by Tiger on May 2, 2010 18:01:37 GMT -5
Kiku drew his free hand up to his chin and let it rest there as he pondered Arthur's words. "Ay, pilgrim," he began, letting his arm fall back to his side, "lips that they must use in prayer." Although not confident, his voice was far from meek, almost casual--a rarity for him in any right. Yet it possessed a certain guarded edge of a man who had been isolated in his youth.
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Post by Jimmeh on May 2, 2010 18:16:36 GMT -5
"Oh, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do!" He paused for a short moment before he continued, a speck of nervousness flickered behind his eyes briefly before returning to the confidence he still was not entirely used to returned. "They pray. Grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." [/color]
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