fierybluebird | [Video/Written] For Whom the Bell Tolls

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[Video/Written] For Whom the Bell Tolls

[Marco's a little wearier than normal, his voice is composed and deadpan, but his overall amusement is clearly worn a little thin today.]

Thanks to everyone who joined in the dodgeball tournament, eh? It was a lot of fun, and if you missed out, keep an eye on the next S.O.S. Brigade event, I'm sure it'll be a blast. [ooc: It's still going on! Feel free to join in!]

My littlest brother's been taken by the Malnosso, so if anyone's still looking for New Feathers, keep an eye out for Sabo too please. Hopefully he'll be returned soon.

It got me thinking though, about a poem I found by John Donne.

For Whom the Bell Tolls
by John Donne

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

The smartest woman I've ever known said once that we're all connected here. Friends, allies, or enemies, we do all have in common that we're trapped in this enclosure together, for better or worse. It's something to think about I guess.

It's nice having a lot of books from other worlds to read, eh. Does anyone else have a favorite poem they'd like to share?

[The following is filtered from Ace 75%:]
I have a favor to ask of all the cooks in the village. Or rather, of any of the cooks in the village, or anyone interested. Ace isn't alone in having a rough time here lately, so I'd like to do something to help cheer him and the others up. Sometime before Christmas if we could all throw a feast and come together, I think it'd be good for everyone, eh? We could have cooking contests for amateurs or try new recipes or anything. Anyways, if you think it's a good idea, and you're interested, let me know.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Like? What could you take from me? And what makes you think I would allow you to? I have eyes everywhere, Whitebeard.

Clothes, books, booze, virginity, want to try me Straw Hat?

Virginity? [She laughs softly.] If anything I'll take yours.

[She rests her chin on her hands]

So go ahead and do your worst.

But I warn you...

[And because she can see you, arms blossom from the bed and the wall, and blossom from eachother, wrapping around you and pinning you to the bed and she appears as well, over and braced in the web of arms and hands, staring down at you]

I fight dirty.

[Gulps.]

Aha.

So I see....

[Smirks up at her and tries to play with the web pinning him down. He'll break free yet! Just you wait...]

You're assuming though I even have any virginity left to take.

Tell me then Robin, what do you treasure most? [Playful leer, trying to distract her so he can cutie escape!]

[Unfortunately, you're going to have to save your cutie escape for another time because she can't hold this for very long. She has just enough time to murmur in your ear]

I'd find one.

[Before disappearing in a shower of petals. As for what she values most, she's just going to smirk]

What do you think?

I think I'd like to come see you now and find out for myself just how much virginity can be stolen, eh?

Your welcome if you wish.

[Though she's not in the particular mood for that, she'll indulge you for a little while]

If you think Firefist-san won't mind...

Let me handle Ace, eh.

I'll be over in a bit.

[He's not actually in a flirty mood, so much as he just wants phoenix snuggles and soothing pats to his head and to be reminded that he's not a terrible big brother.]

I'll be here whenever you need me.

[You might notice a slight wince, so quick you might miss it. Why is it so easy to say this to Marco but her own nakama....]

[He does catch it and pauses.]

Something amiss?

[Part of him was ready to let it slide, to not call her out on it, but his instincts tell him not to do that this time. Not if he really cares, and he does.]

I'll see you when you get here, Marcchan.

[She ends the feed. She doesn't want to get into it. Not now. Not like this. Perhaps they can sort it out when he arrives but before then, this is for the best]

[He just nods solemnly and flies on over. It's after dinner, after he settled thing down with Leanne and Ace, so by this point he's good to go. He brought a book; the works of Edgar Allen Poe, he thought she might get a kick out of it, and an added blanket just in case.

Before long though, she'll hear a familiar tapping at her window.]

[Robin is tucked up in bed with two cups of tea steaming on the bedside table and a book on her lap. A pair of hands will open the window long enough for you to get inside and shut again to keep out the cold.]

Good evening, little bird. Did you bring me a present?

Aye, a book. Though I haven't actually finished reading it yet.

[He flies inside and gives her a phoenix hug and affectionate birdie nuzzle.]

It's a compilation of many stories and poems by the same author.

[She slips an arm around him, pulling him close and nuzzles him back, pressing her lips to the yellow flames before settling the book on her lap]

Edgar Allen Poe? [She traces his name on the cover] He lived a sad life from what I can remember. He died in the gutter. [What a horrible way to end up but she supposes everyone comes close now and again. After a moment she glances at him.]

Would you like some tea? It's chamomile. It's said to be very relaxing.

[He chirps happily at the kiss and snuggles a little closer into her lap. All the love for Robin forever... At the question about tea, he answers with a quick nod.]

Yes, please.

[Which reluctantly requires him to switch back to human, however. #Firstworld bird problems.]

I could use a bit of relaxation, eh.

And Poe's a bit... Well, I'm beginning to get a theory on poets, but I could be wrong at any rate.

Edited 2012-11-25 03:54 (UTC)

[She shifts a bit to accommodate his form and then hands him his tea, but keeps an arm resting lightly against his back. She takes her own tea and opens the book, glancing at the words. You might think I'm mad indeed]

He is a bit...

[She can tell just by looking at it]

What is your theory?

[And she'll rest her head against your shoulder and listen]

That they're all even more manic depressive than Ace.

[Wraps an arm around behind her waist and reads over her shoulder.]

That and their words a byproduct of it. [Sips his tea. He likes it burn-your-mouth-off hot.]

Firefist-san is manic-depressive?

[She's not entirely sure what that means exactly, other than a faint notion of the concept. As for his other statement...]

I suppose that would depend on how you define a poet. Anyone can write poetry after all. Do you mean all published poets? All poets of a certain type?

Nah, I'm just kidding about Ace. He's more... fiery. Hotheaded temper and all that. Which I'm sure you've seen.

Published poets and those that I can find books of. Robert Frost just seemed a little depressed, but Emily Dickinson... she was definitely manic depressive. I'm not even sure what was up with Lewis Carroll, eh.

It's strange how the best poets and stories are often the saddest. There is no joy without tragedy.

[Though that is part of life. Some people have an easier time finding the joy than others. Yet, in the end, everything ends in a tragedy. No one lives forever. Though Brook has the closest shot of anyone. She starts to read the tale of the madman who obviously killed someone and is obviously wracked with guilt. She says half to herself]

I can't tell if he was mad to begin with or driven to it.

I suppose so, eh. Or at least there's more depth to be had when things get sad as well. Nothing to learn from without dark times.

[Glances up at her.] You read Lewis Carroll too? [He might be a little off on who that was referring to.]

No, I was referring to this story. [She taps the page. Though she is not terribly in the mood for reading stories of madness and murder just now.]

Light can be found easier in the darkness, ne? [She slides down a little to rest her head on his shoulder, and briefly nuzzles his neck. He is her light. Even though he shouldn't be.]

Maybe only the mad survive.

[Which means all of her nakama are fine]

Ah... of course. Should have known. What's this one about, eh?

[Grins at the small snuggle and wraps both arms around her to hold her protectively close, before giving a small dark chuckle at her last comment.] Then my crew will all be safe. [Great minds think alike in this case?]

Something about a murder and a heart.

[she's not entirely sure. In any case she relaxes into Marco's warmth, closing her eyes. It's almost strange how good this feels. How nice it is just to be with someone]

My crew will be safe, too. Though, if nothing else, we'll make history, ne?

[Though unfortunately to make history usually required one to be dead first]

Tell me something about the New World...

[Video/Written] For Whom the Bell Tolls

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