Post by Wild on Apr 13, 2007 21:08:44 GMT
THIS IS A PRIVATE INTRO FOR A FRIEND!
'Oh gentle winds 'neath moonlit skies,
Do not you hear my heartfelt cries?
Below the branches, here about,
Do not you sense my fear and doubt?
Side glistening rivers, sparkling streams,
Do not you hear my woeful screams?
Upon the meadows, touched with dew,
Do not you see my hearts a'skew?
Beneath the thousand twinkling stars,
Do not you feel my jagged scars?
Seek not my mournful heart kind breeze,
For you'll not find it 'mongst these trees.
Love. What a word. Something he was destined never to really have. He had to marry a girl he had never met, he had to have a family with her and he had to have her as his queen. Sad it was surely. How could it be anything else? It was impossible to be, especially for a man who held the same view as as a phantomistic writer in a great love tale, he believed in love above all else. He wanted that, if only that. love and nothing more, no more was important. Only love. If nothing else. But what love would he have? The heir to a kingdom if nothing more, due to marry a girl he Had met once, due to make someone his queen, someone he could barely remember.
He remembered that conversation with his father, that time he had been campaigning his right to choose a wife he knew and loved. But could you guess the words his father used to console him? No, you wouldn't want to.... he had said 'You dint have to love her.' This had drawn confusion from the boy, What did Theo know of this? He was a man with a heart built only to love, love if nothing else. And what Had his father meant? Their conversation explains itself.
'What do you mean! You don't have to love her? You love mother, right?' Theo said indignantly, not believing this.
'Yes, but she is not the only woman I love.' Replied his father.
WHAT! His Father didn't love his mother? No he hadn't said that, he Had said that he loved someone else as well..... who?'
'What do you mean Father?' He spoke carefully, slowly.
'I mean that without my dearest Mistress, I believe I would of left your mother a good 20 years ago.' Theo frowned. He would of left when he was 1? Who would do that to their own child? What kind of a man was he?
'So what are you suggesting. That I have a mistress?' He shook slightly with anger as he spoke, but he had been long since trained to hide his emotions.
'Yes, if it keeps your marriage together. Your mother keeps one too.'
This more than shocked him, he hated that image.
'I wont be doing that.' He spoke softly, and his father replied.
'You will marry that girl, if you refuse, you shall be forced. You cannot escape it.'
That is what he had been told. It had been made clear to him that this was the only option for him, if he tried to do anything else he would either be killed or he would be renounced from the throne and announced as banished from the country. So that was the only option for him. Pity really wasn't it?
He was truly handsome. I mean beautiful (well as male standards go...) although it is a hard thing to describe without the listener having seen such a beautiful person before? He was Italian from origin, and it showed. Tanned skin, olive colored and striking against the dark cut of his brow and the strong prominent cheekbones. His jaw was square and his nose long. He had the kind of beauty that normal people craved, the kind of beauty that might make him more of an angel than a human, but it went beyond that. He Had strange hair too, it was a very dark blackish brown, yet in light of any kind it seemed outlined in gold, of course not at night. No at night he was silver, just as he was gold in the day time. The daytime, the golden prince. The nighttime, the said silver minstrel, lost to the world but to his facade of day.
His eyes, you may of been thinking why I had not yet mentioned them. They were unimaginable. That is why, they were deep rust brown, like dyed blood, flecked with yellow and some blue. They were the most dangerous element of this amazing male. For they were what hooked the bait, the thing that his kind possessed. More beautiful than normal means and hypnotizing. A strange thing, his eyes were too different than either his parents they were something aside, something inhuman and brilliant, few words can describe such.
The golden prince was he, Locked in a cage of terrible means, the cage of obligation and high birth, he could do nothing about it.
He did not request to meet his bride, he did not ask because he knew he would be denied. But he wanted to. He really did. Perhaps if he did he would fall in love with her, and ot have to worry about the matter's his father provided. No, that was too unlikey to happen, he could barely even hope.
The simple words, that fell from his lips, so simple indeed but when clothed in his deep rolling Italian accent seemed to become so much more. Dipped in honey dripping from a silver spoon, lovely sounds and as pleasing to here as the first bird song of spring. They were the words that made your heart melt. So he was a brilliant beautiful prince with words of honey and ways of refinement? Or was he simply a caged bird, wanting to escape from the obligation of life. But no, even in death his life would haunt him, he could do nothing.
It's scattered 'cross the moonlit skies,
Accompanied by heartfelt sighs.
It's drifting o're the gentle rain,
A symbol of my silent pain.
It's buried 'neath the meadow fair,
Conjoined with all the sorrow there.
It's lost among the stars this night,
Too far to ease my quiet fright.
No gentle winds, seek not my heart,
For simply ... it has torn apart.'
[/center][/size]
'Oh gentle winds 'neath moonlit skies,
Do not you hear my heartfelt cries?
Below the branches, here about,
Do not you sense my fear and doubt?
Side glistening rivers, sparkling streams,
Do not you hear my woeful screams?
Upon the meadows, touched with dew,
Do not you see my hearts a'skew?
Beneath the thousand twinkling stars,
Do not you feel my jagged scars?
Seek not my mournful heart kind breeze,
For you'll not find it 'mongst these trees.
Love. What a word. Something he was destined never to really have. He had to marry a girl he had never met, he had to have a family with her and he had to have her as his queen. Sad it was surely. How could it be anything else? It was impossible to be, especially for a man who held the same view as as a phantomistic writer in a great love tale, he believed in love above all else. He wanted that, if only that. love and nothing more, no more was important. Only love. If nothing else. But what love would he have? The heir to a kingdom if nothing more, due to marry a girl he Had met once, due to make someone his queen, someone he could barely remember.
He remembered that conversation with his father, that time he had been campaigning his right to choose a wife he knew and loved. But could you guess the words his father used to console him? No, you wouldn't want to.... he had said 'You dint have to love her.' This had drawn confusion from the boy, What did Theo know of this? He was a man with a heart built only to love, love if nothing else. And what Had his father meant? Their conversation explains itself.
'What do you mean! You don't have to love her? You love mother, right?' Theo said indignantly, not believing this.
'Yes, but she is not the only woman I love.' Replied his father.
WHAT! His Father didn't love his mother? No he hadn't said that, he Had said that he loved someone else as well..... who?'
'What do you mean Father?' He spoke carefully, slowly.
'I mean that without my dearest Mistress, I believe I would of left your mother a good 20 years ago.' Theo frowned. He would of left when he was 1? Who would do that to their own child? What kind of a man was he?
'So what are you suggesting. That I have a mistress?' He shook slightly with anger as he spoke, but he had been long since trained to hide his emotions.
'Yes, if it keeps your marriage together. Your mother keeps one too.'
This more than shocked him, he hated that image.
'I wont be doing that.' He spoke softly, and his father replied.
'You will marry that girl, if you refuse, you shall be forced. You cannot escape it.'
That is what he had been told. It had been made clear to him that this was the only option for him, if he tried to do anything else he would either be killed or he would be renounced from the throne and announced as banished from the country. So that was the only option for him. Pity really wasn't it?
He was truly handsome. I mean beautiful (well as male standards go...) although it is a hard thing to describe without the listener having seen such a beautiful person before? He was Italian from origin, and it showed. Tanned skin, olive colored and striking against the dark cut of his brow and the strong prominent cheekbones. His jaw was square and his nose long. He had the kind of beauty that normal people craved, the kind of beauty that might make him more of an angel than a human, but it went beyond that. He Had strange hair too, it was a very dark blackish brown, yet in light of any kind it seemed outlined in gold, of course not at night. No at night he was silver, just as he was gold in the day time. The daytime, the golden prince. The nighttime, the said silver minstrel, lost to the world but to his facade of day.
His eyes, you may of been thinking why I had not yet mentioned them. They were unimaginable. That is why, they were deep rust brown, like dyed blood, flecked with yellow and some blue. They were the most dangerous element of this amazing male. For they were what hooked the bait, the thing that his kind possessed. More beautiful than normal means and hypnotizing. A strange thing, his eyes were too different than either his parents they were something aside, something inhuman and brilliant, few words can describe such.
The golden prince was he, Locked in a cage of terrible means, the cage of obligation and high birth, he could do nothing about it.
He did not request to meet his bride, he did not ask because he knew he would be denied. But he wanted to. He really did. Perhaps if he did he would fall in love with her, and ot have to worry about the matter's his father provided. No, that was too unlikey to happen, he could barely even hope.
The simple words, that fell from his lips, so simple indeed but when clothed in his deep rolling Italian accent seemed to become so much more. Dipped in honey dripping from a silver spoon, lovely sounds and as pleasing to here as the first bird song of spring. They were the words that made your heart melt. So he was a brilliant beautiful prince with words of honey and ways of refinement? Or was he simply a caged bird, wanting to escape from the obligation of life. But no, even in death his life would haunt him, he could do nothing.
It's scattered 'cross the moonlit skies,
Accompanied by heartfelt sighs.
It's drifting o're the gentle rain,
A symbol of my silent pain.
It's buried 'neath the meadow fair,
Conjoined with all the sorrow there.
It's lost among the stars this night,
Too far to ease my quiet fright.
No gentle winds, seek not my heart,
For simply ... it has torn apart.'