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Sun, 05/27/2012 - 05:50
Tue, 06/05/2012 - 05:43
#2
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Tue, 06/05/2012 - 05:44
#3
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Mon, 05/28/2012 - 08:23
#4
Sense and Sensibility and
Sense and Sensibility and Spiral Knights.
Tue, 05/29/2012 - 00:50
#5
Arranged marriages XD
Well my mother does ask me regularly on the phone about when I will be providing her with some grandchildren, so I guess she wouldn't be too upset about an arranged marriage. I wonder if they sell Radiant Silvermail at Macy's ?
EDIT: Well obviously I should have kept reading before I assumed I would be getting married. Apparently St. Leone beat me up! Maybe I won't mention this episode to mother after all. Lol. :)
Fri, 06/01/2012 - 10:32
#6
The Ballad
Hehehe, oh you, Mawa~ ;)
Well, to do this post justice, and to give my take on it, here's a little prose for you:
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Amidst the dusty, bustling town square of Haven, a lone gunman sits in a corner, back flat against a sturdy brick wall. His fingers strum gently; a C chord, followed by an A minor, followed by a D. The soothing melody of the guitar reverberates throughout the crowd.
A young dragon stands amidst the human traffic, her radiance unparalleled, her body glowing with the luminosity of a thousand incandescent, dying suns. Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle, amidst the hundreds that gather to partake in the daily commerce, she ironically feels a pang of loneliness, a void in her heart, if you will. The music slows to a calming tune, the gunman slouching as he clutches the guitar loosely, almost caressing it. Does he empathize with the forlorn princess? Does he feel the melancholy vibes the pulsate from her luminous eminence?
The musky smell of a fresh kill fills the air. Crowds part, as the princess' heart palpitates faster, faster. Her head, previously angled downwards from ruminating over recent memories of her togetherness, now arches upwards as she gazes off into the distance, straight into the parting sea of mercantile Knights.
The guitar goes into an allegretto. Chords fly past as the fingers of the maestro enter a smooth cascade, seamlessly pelting out an upbeat tune, yet with a sublime undertone - not pure excitement, but something far deeper than that. His tune carries more than just happiness, but centuries of age-old tradition - a knight in shining armor, a hero for the damsel in distress, a matador returning to his senorita after yet another victory at the ring. A tall figure emerges from the crowd, a strangely familiar figure whom the princess recognizes immediately despite his looming stature.
She presses her head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his chestplate - no doubt he has returned from his hunt. A torrent of notes play in quick succession as he returns the embrace, caressing her smooth, dragonborn skin. His beastly, primal odor is slightly more overpowering than usual, but she likes it that way.
A final chord strums, and silence falls across the crowd.
"You're home."
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