Dancer Between

[psycho_leo]

w00t!

[Misty]

In this holy
hour of night,
I give of myself,
As proper and right.

Knavery they remember,
theft none forget,
Swear they do
to repay such debt.

Smaller the songs
Of gifts left behind,
Oft keeping quiet
What they find.

This, too, is right,
Proper and good,
Silence of gifts,
Left in the wood.

No thanks we seek,
No glory we want,
Keep it quiet,
Do not flaunt.

Else you may find
In place of the present,
Something foul,
Smelly and unpleasant.

Take and give,
Give and take,
Active we are
Before you wake.

‘To better the People
Through lark and jest’,
Tis the command
To the Fey bless’d.

[Brokenbone]

Good stuff.

*stumbles across offering, keeps*

[Misty]

Time

Ever moving at his own pace,
Though it seems to crawl or race.

He watches, judgement absent,
Recording all our joy and torment.

A century and a half I now have seen,
Marvel I do at where I’ve been.

Secluded wood and bustling city,
All sorts of People, foul and pretty.

Followed the faun into the Ring,
Laughter, wine and wild dancing.

Love I found and friendships true,
Deepest despair and melancholy, too.

And wonder yet where I might go,
Whither will the winds blow?

All the while, with every dawn,
Ponder this: Time marches on.

[Misty]

The Conversation


Violins, tambourines, and voices call the dance, celebrating the impromptu wedding between Delawyn and Adellie. The groom’s full plate provided the bride with instantly bruised toes, but all laugh. I am happy for them, but cannot make myself want to dance. Natharric’s tale minds me of Kiksa, just enough to hurt. Beleg stands behind me, his warm breath in my ear, supporting me.

Natharric turns from the newlyweds to me, and I know that his lover relayed my wish. He lifts my hand in that courtly way most bards do, “Come. We shall speak.” Without a word, Beleg lets go, watching Natharric lead me to his guarded tent. “Will your lover worry much?”

I speak the hard truth of any relationship, “Probably, but he must trust me.” As if he heard me, Beleg turns to watch the celebration.

“Then he loves you,” he pulls back his tent flap with his free hand. “Come in.” I stop to look directly to his eyes, hood falling back while our hands remain clasped. Trust, or the lack of it brought us here, we both seem to think. Delawyn’s voice floats to us, blaming his plate and Adellie’s laughing agreement. Voices raise in a cheer as others join in the dancing. I enter the tent first.

“Paresia says you wish speak to me alone?” he whispers, only loud enough for me to hear, not his guards. If it is a trap, I can still escape. But I see his eyes, and it is not a trap. We share the same wound.

“Yes, I do,” I keep my voice low. “Away from the others. If you do not mind.”

“Is the tent not private enough?”

I hold his gaze as he drops the tentflaps. “It is. I find myself lost for words.” He tells me to speak from the heart. “I don't believe you are the horrible person Thrayldur makes you out to be. But then...” I stutter a little, then start again. “I know. I wanted vengeance. But did not take it. But you do? Or do not? I'm a little confused. I don't really care how many she slays.”

“Oh yes,” his eyes flash with that darkness I know so well. “Those that killed my love will pay. Thraryldur amongst them.”

“What happens when they're all dead?”

He watches my face a long moment, laughter from outside drifts to our ears. Sadness replaces the dark fire, “I had not contemplated that, Laurelin. Nothing, none of their deaths will bring her back. I know that.”

“But it will feel better, I do know that,” I almost smile, thinking to my time as a woodswalker. Nearly slaying the idiot in the full tavern thrilled me. Death for death, Spin, hide, strike, spin hide strike spinhidestrike! I would have finished if not for the paladin right there, ready to strike me down. “I do not condemn vengeance as my priest does.”

“Your priest is a hypocrite,” bitterness hisses at me. “I wonder if he would leave his bride here, to save her as he claimed earlier with the halfling bard? Do you believe he would?”

“I know his faults. Most priests are, yes,” but I am not here to talk about him. “Will Paresia slay you when she is finished?” He does not answer immediately. I probe again, “Will Paresia slay you when she gets bored?”

“She will likely try, yes.”

“You won't mind though,” I feel the sorrow. I know it. “Will you?”

“Love. Vengeance.” I can feel his heart retreating. “When they are done, what is there to live for? Love has passed me by.”

“You can love again,” I look down at our hands, he knows I do not offer.

“Some can,” the hardened heart answers. “I cannot. I shall not go quietly. A bard rarely does mind you.”

“I know. My bonded was a bard.”

Surprise brings him out of his shell, looking to the tentflaps towards where Beleg sounds like he is dancing. “Your bond was broken?”

I look up to him, painfully open. “He is not my bonded.”

“But you love him? I see the quiet strength in it.”

“I do,” hoping to stem the tears with a nod. “It isn't the same, but I do love him.”

He genuinely smiles, “I envy you then, Laurelin. Warm beds and willing arms are not hard to find. An open heart is a gem indeed. And that you can open yours again is a precious, precious thing.”

Tears leak out anyway, damn them. Damn the despair! “I don't see how. The black moods get blacker every time they come.” He asks after ‘they’, ready to fight ‘them’. “The depressions. It seems the only think Kiksa left me with.”

“Memories,” he smiles into the distance of his own, poetry spilling from his sad lips. “If you loved him, he left memories. They will make you smile unexpectedly. They will make you weep when you are happy. Who killed your bonded?”

“Either the Zhentarim, or the lord of Daggerdale. The bond broke,” I swallow around the knot in my throat. “It broke when they held him prisoner. It broke, because he would not betray his lord to save me.” It broke when he did exactly what he was supposed to do. Damn them all!

He sighs in understanding. He named me the Sympathetic, now he knows why. “Do you wish to pay vengeance upon them? Do you wish to make them suffer as you have?”

“I do. I had not yet, because I could not.” Because it is wrong.

“We all have talents. I will not judge your vengeance desire, for I understand it.”

“I want to slaughter the whole dale.”

“Even the innocents not involved?”

“Yes, for it was them he thought to protect.” Change it, girl. Now. “Can you control your lover? Or is it simply convenient for now?”

“Convenient mostly,” he shrugs. “Though Paresia does not know all my tricks.”

My eyes dry enough to see again, I find his, “If you can, be happy.”

“The Tale of Paresia, the child’s tale,” he explains, “speaks of her capture, binding, and banishment. So far I have used it simply to free her, she knows not the existence of the book. She is a minstrel, she just happens to be from the lower planes. Her songs move men to tears, lust and adultery. Men already weak. The strong have nothing to fear from her.”

“She enjoys her freedom, and speaks well of you.”

He gives a faraway smile, “we have an amicable relationship.”

“Yes, she shifts for you,” I smile, accepting his desire to pretend she is his dead love. “She holds talents no mortal can compare with. Do you hold the book? I said you do, but no one believes me here.”

“Yes. the Vistani have procurred it for me. It was held within the guild that Rhekka the Dark Flower, and Adellie the Bride, hold allegiance to. It was a shame about the Chauntean lovers,” his voice genuinely sad. “I did not know their forbidden secret at the time.”

“Secret well hid. They are together now, where they need not hide.”

“I do hope so. Should you seek vengeance upon your Dale Laurelin, find me.”

“Thank you. I shall try.”

“I understand, it is nothing to be ashamed of. It is,” he sighs with a smile, “the result of love.”

“Will you perform at the competition?”

He gives a playful smile, answering yes without saying so, “Anticipation, dear, is part of the show.” I almost laugh with him. “Come, let us join the others.”

Aware again that he still held my hand, I sought his eyes. “Thank you, for listening and talking with me.”

“My pleasure, dear,” he kisses my hand before we turn to the tentflaps.

He leads me back to the celebration, passing my hand into Beleg’s with a sad smile, “You have my envy.” He bows and retreats, rising towards the others as Beleg’s green eyes seek mine. I barely shake my head no, I cannot speak just yet. Victory, anger, despair, gratitude, spite all war within.

“Dance when it feels right, dear. I’ll still be here,” my love whispers, holding me close.

The revel lasts until well past dawn, but I remained on the outside, trying to keep my mood from poisoning this happiest of nights.

[Inwintersshadow]

Awesome:)

[Brimsar the Wanderer]

[Misty]

To the Chameleon I commit this tale,
Of redemption in the Shadowed Dale.

Once a man walked, named Silversong
Sweet of voice, fair and strong,
To the harp he did belong,
Until one night was he wronged.

A dancer fair caught his eye,
Twas then it all went awry,
For his friends did imply,
That she was naught but a spy.

Cornered and trapped, they did press
Intent to make poor Trena confess
That every touch and soft caress
Were naught but false love profess’d.

Wrong they were, yet trapped still,
Between harp and zhentarim will,
For his love, in the morning’s chill,
She leapt, ensuring her life did spill.

Despairing and lost, Silversong turned,
In his breast great bitterness burned,
His supposed friends he now spurned,
For the Devil’s Lyric he had learned.

Vengeance he vowed ‘gainst the friend
Who sent his love over the end
With aid of the devil he did befriend,
Darktune upon the Dale descend.

Men without the strength of heart,
Fell to her charms and fatal art,
Blissfully they did depart,
Though soon this plan fell apart.

Six they were, sometimes eight,
To interrupt Darktune’s hate,
The many deaths to abate,
And to thwart the darkest fate.

Bookworm, Hypocrite and the Bard,
Dark Flower and Angel Charred,
Greybeard claimed by Vistani card,
Shadowed Sympathy and her Guard.

To the Vistani were they led,
To speak to the Darktune dread,
Playful banter turned instead,
Joyously were the first two wed.

Drums and voice call the dance,
Celebrating sweet romance,
To guarded tent went his glance,
Where Sympathy took her chance.

Dancing lightly with each word,
Speaking so no other heard,
On love and pain uncured,
Could Redemption be conferred?

After the wedding comes contest,
With song, dance, revelry and jest,
Many arrive, finely dressed,
To see the Bard crowned The Best.

Darktune speaks with Angel fire,
After he performs on lyre,
Marking Angel before all retire
With the Devil’s hateful hellfire.

Paresia’s song is more than a tale,
To entertain children of the Dale,
To free or bind, depends on the male,
Who calls her down from the veil.

Into the hands of Sympathy,
Darktune placed this little key,
Renouncing claims of victory,
To her binding he would see.

The grand harp he played well,
Sympathies voice did compel,
Paresia to ascend from Hell,
Then the Marked called the spell.

Bound again in golden cage,
No more sadness upon the stage,
Darktune turned his last page,
No more shall his heart rage.

Once again, the night grows long,
Know he was good all along,
To the dark he did not belong,
Fare thee well, fair Silversong.

[Inwintersshadow]

Nice

[wvincenti]

*settles into his overstuffed easy chair with popcorn in hand,
puts his feet up*

More!
What's in the next act?



Love it.

-Bill

[Brimsar the Wanderer]

Misty.. that is beautiful. Thank you.

[danielmn]

Bravo, talespinner, bravo!

[Mizbiz]

Really wonderful stuff!

[Burt]

Not bad at all.

[Misty]

Tell me, Shadow, are you near?
Can you visit and taunt me here?

Are you coming? Do you care?
Or are you another to use my despair?

Lover, friend and enemy,
You likened yourself to all three.

Maybe you are right about this place,
Maybe I should go without a trace.

But then I wonder why want me gone?
Would you stay and cause some wrong?

Am I a threat to your desire?
Is my absence what you require?

Or would you stay with me, whither I go?
Over hill and dale, where the winds blow?

what is your plan Lover, Friend and Enemy?
Why do you want me to flee?