[ handsome. anyway: aquila does not seem to mind dragons! or maybe just not this one? either way, they reach out and pat porridge on the head in greeting, and then laugh. ]
Do I seem like the dark and dreary type? [ teasing, though. they continue, a little more thoughtfully. ] As loving as this is, it is... kinda bittersweet, huh? The past tense feels like someone remembering, and the fall instead of the spring of new love...
...I do like the imagery, though. Consider me charmed. [ stop. ] Who wrote it?
ooh, that expression. you can't see aquila's, but theirs might just match; there's a sort of playfulness to their gravelly tone. ]
I dabble. [ please. ] Can't you tell?
All sounds about up my alley, though, I'll check it out. Raunchy included. Can't say it's a name I've ever heard before, but, then again, 's probably not that weird. Library's chock full of 'em.
Is Neruda a favorite of yours? Or just one you like.
[He shrugs one shoulder and waves a hand dismissively.]
I like his stuff alright. It isn’t bad. He is good with words. [Thoughtful for a moment.] Kind of a fan of Thomas Hardy. Wordsworth. Buson Yosa. Wu Zao.
None of those are ringing any bells, either. Thought I was pretty well read!
Thomas Hardy, Wordsworth, Buson Yosa, Wu Zao. [ they tilt their head as they say the names... and then snap their fingers. ] Ah. Wait, Buson. That's haiku, right? Estelle showed me a book of those the other day. I've been practicing them here and there.
Yeah. Think there's something to it, isn't there? Something that paints an image. There's a poem I like... Lessee.
[ another head tilt, and then they recite, clearly; ]
You ask O why I’ve chosen to live in the mountains green; I smile without replying, my heart sedate, serene. Peach flowers on rivulets gambol, then ramble out of sight; ’tis Heaven and earth with a difference, not of the world we’d been.
The style's a bit longer, but it's similar in imagery, isn't it?
[He keeps that amused smile on his face while they recite the poem, kind of like anyone would when someone is reading poetry aloud, especially when it's so poignantly powerful.]
Yeah. It's called imagism. It's... I guess a modern bastardization of the haiku, if you want to be quite honest. [White people.] A return to simplicity. Maybe you should see if the library has Doolittle. Or some Williams. You know.
[His voice doesn't halt during the recitation, but there's a kind of lull to the tone of his words that follows the breaks:]
[ oh, they make an appreciative noise as that one finishes, quiet. their eyes are likely closed, reflective. ]
...Williams, you said? I ought to keep a running list. [ this is why there's a library. it's for nerd people. this white people bastardization is acceptable for now i guess. ] What a poignant image. Only poetry could make something like Tsurumaru's pet so lovely.
[ that last bit's joking. probably. bobchansan you weird chicken. ] Do you have a particular style you prefer, Jason? Or is it just whatever you can get your hands on?
[He glances away sort of thoughtfully, then shrugs a bit.]
Just like reading in general. A nice way to escape for a while. [Sometimes you read because it's easier not to think about your shitty childhood when you do. Then it's easy not to think about your shitty adulthood later.] A like a little darker or heavier stuff. Like epics too. Beowulf, Iliad.
But I wouldn't turn my nose up at something like Romanticism. Or something simple.
[ they sound genuinely very interested in that offer, actually, leaning a little against the desk. anyway that is... deeply relatable! but you know. it's fine. jason doesn't get to know that. this is metatext.
anyway they listen, nodding along, and then murmur; ] Journey to the West. [ adding to the list of epics, thoughtful in their own right. ]
...Mhm. Maybe we should trade off recommendations - an escape might not be a bad idea. A lot of the literature here isn't familiar to me, so, I've been stealing Gemini's books and scouring the library in my spare time. [ there's a wink there in their voice, playful. ] Don't tell on me.
A bit of a boyish smirk curves his lips, and he snorts. He moves over to rummage around by the desk for a pen and piece of paper. So he can write down the list of names he's already rattled off like a nerd.]
Hey. I'm not a tattle tale. If you keep my secrets, I keep yours.
[No pleased cat energy. Jason is too dog for that. He puts the pen down and slides the paper in their direction. It has a list of the names. It also has a miniature someone in an employee get-up with feathers starfished.]
[ the title, your majesty - something about that is very funny, actually, and they put a hand over their heart. ]
This humble servant would be flattered by your kindness. [ stop this. aquila takes the paper, though, fingers tapping briefly over it, before they fold it up and slide it into their sleeves. if they have anything to say about this little starfished feather employee they... don't say it! instead, they hum.] Thank you. I'll let you know what I liked the best.
[ after a moment, they produce a sheet of paper from their sleeve and pass it back across, followed by a pen. apparently they are not going to write these down for jason and he has to write them himself? wow. ]
For my own, after weeks of library exploration - ci poetry, particularly Li Bai and Du Fu. One Hundred Years of Solitude. Flowers in the Mirror. Birdsong by Faulks. The Shih Ching. To start, at least.
[AQUILA, YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE. But it's fine. If Jason didn't like writing, then he probably wouldn't like reading. So he takes the pen so he can jot things down as they're spoken.
He taps the first two.] Read some Li and Du when I was learning Chinese. [Hmm. He glances up at them, the corners of his lips rising.]
I almost put One Hundred Years in your box actually. But then I decided to do some poetry. [He peers at the list thoughtfully for a moment.] Want to take a walk to the library?
Did you know he was a drunkard? Li Bai. [ this makes them laugh, a little, as they push off of the desk. ] "But the moon doesn’t understand drinking, and my shadow follows my body like a slave." Fine wine and fine literature pair together no matter the universe, it seems.
[ amused, though - and approving, over the shared title, clearly so even without seeing their voice. they nod at the suggestion. ] Let's. Could use a chance to stretch my wings.
[ a little wryly, in the way that it's actually terrible, or maybe in the way that it's familiar? who knows.
either way! off they go. aquila could just shadow transport them, but they do not, hands folded behind their back and enjoying the stroll. ] Do you do any writing of your own?
Jason doesn't not seem to mind not being transported, but that's because he is a jock as much as he is a nerd. Jason gives Porridge a little whistle, and the dragon toddles after the two of them.]
[ sometimes you have coping mechanisms and they're bad "who is this about" dont worry about it
anyway. they glance back briefly at porridge, amused, and then hum. ] Only one way to find out, isn't there? Promise not to make fun of your drafts too much. [ hehe ]
[Mood. He keeps walking, but sort of bends down quickly and briefly to pet Porridge on the head. Just so, like, he knows he is a good dragon.]
Pft. What, you trying to get me to pen you some love poetry for real? [He shrugs, almost like he's a little dismissively shy.] I... could try, I guess.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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And he has Porridge with him. Hope Aquila likes dragons.]
I thought you could use a few pointers. Maybe a little pick-me-up rather than the dark and dreary.
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Do I seem like the dark and dreary type? [ teasing, though. they continue, a little more thoughtfully. ] As loving as this is, it is... kinda bittersweet, huh? The past tense feels like someone remembering, and the fall instead of the spring of new love...
...I do like the imagery, though. Consider me charmed. [ stop. ] Who wrote it?
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So you do like poetry.
[He smiles boyishly; there is amusement in his eyes.]
Pablo Neruda. He has some real raunchy ones if you’re into that. But a lot of his other stuff is about war, politics, and history.
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ooh, that expression. you can't see aquila's, but theirs might just match; there's a sort of playfulness to their gravelly tone. ]
I dabble. [ please. ] Can't you tell?
All sounds about up my alley, though, I'll check it out. Raunchy included. Can't say it's a name I've ever heard before, but, then again, 's probably not that weird. Library's chock full of 'em.
Is Neruda a favorite of yours? Or just one you like.
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I like his stuff alright. It isn’t bad. He is good with words. [Thoughtful for a moment.] Kind of a fan of Thomas Hardy. Wordsworth. Buson Yosa. Wu Zao.
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Thomas Hardy, Wordsworth, Buson Yosa, Wu Zao. [ they tilt their head as they say the names... and then snap their fingers. ] Ah. Wait, Buson. That's haiku, right? Estelle showed me a book of those the other day. I've been practicing them here and there.
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Haiku, yeah. Sometimes you like a little simplicity is all. You like what Estelle gave you?
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[ another head tilt, and then they recite, clearly; ]
You ask O why I’ve chosen to live in the mountains green;
I smile without replying, my heart sedate, serene.
Peach flowers on rivulets gambol, then ramble out of sight; ’tis
Heaven and earth with a difference, not of the world we’d been.
The style's a bit longer, but it's similar in imagery, isn't it?
no subject
Yeah. It's called imagism. It's... I guess a modern bastardization of the haiku, if you want to be quite honest. [White people.] A return to simplicity. Maybe you should see if the library has Doolittle. Or some Williams. You know.
[His voice doesn't halt during the recitation, but there's a kind of lull to the tone of his words that follows the breaks:]
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
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...Williams, you said? I ought to keep a running list. [ this is why there's a library. it's for nerd people. this white people bastardization is acceptable for now i guess. ] What a poignant image. Only poetry could make something like Tsurumaru's pet so lovely.
[ that last bit's joking. probably. bobchansan you weird chicken. ] Do you have a particular style you prefer, Jason? Or is it just whatever you can get your hands on?
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[He glances away sort of thoughtfully, then shrugs a bit.]
Just like reading in general. A nice way to escape for a while. [Sometimes you read because it's easier not to think about your shitty childhood when you do. Then it's easy not to think about your shitty adulthood later.] A like a little darker or heavier stuff. Like epics too. Beowulf, Iliad.
But I wouldn't turn my nose up at something like Romanticism. Or something simple.
no subject
[ they sound genuinely very interested in that offer, actually, leaning a little against the desk. anyway that is... deeply relatable! but you know. it's fine. jason doesn't get to know that. this is metatext.
anyway they listen, nodding along, and then murmur; ] Journey to the West. [ adding to the list of epics, thoughtful in their own right. ]
...Mhm. Maybe we should trade off recommendations - an escape might not be a bad idea. A lot of the literature here isn't familiar to me, so, I've been stealing Gemini's books and scouring the library in my spare time. [ there's a wink there in their voice, playful. ] Don't tell on me.
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[It's agreement to the list addition.
A bit of a boyish smirk curves his lips, and he snorts. He moves over to rummage around by the desk for a pen and piece of paper. So he can write down the list of names he's already rattled off like a nerd.]
Hey. I'm not a tattle tale. If you keep my secrets, I keep yours.
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[ teasing. they don't watch him do that, instead leaning back on their elbows against the desk. very much radiating pleased cat energy. ]
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[No pleased cat energy. Jason is too dog for that. He puts the pen down and slides the paper in their direction. It has a list of the names. It also has a miniature someone in an employee get-up with feathers starfished.]
Your list, Your Majesty.
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This humble servant would be flattered by your kindness. [ stop this. aquila takes the paper, though, fingers tapping briefly over it, before they fold it up and slide it into their sleeves. if they have anything to say about this little starfished feather employee they... don't say it! instead, they hum.] Thank you. I'll let you know what I liked the best.
[ after a moment, they produce a sheet of paper from their sleeve and pass it back across, followed by a pen. apparently they are not going to write these down for jason and he has to write them himself? wow. ]
For my own, after weeks of library exploration - ci poetry, particularly Li Bai and Du Fu. One Hundred Years of Solitude. Flowers in the Mirror. Birdsong by Faulks. The Shih Ching. To start, at least.
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He taps the first two.] Read some Li and Du when I was learning Chinese. [Hmm. He glances up at them, the corners of his lips rising.]
I almost put One Hundred Years in your box actually. But then I decided to do some poetry. [He peers at the list thoughtfully for a moment.] Want to take a walk to the library?
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[ amused, though - and approving, over the shared title, clearly so even without seeing their voice. they nod at the suggestion. ] Let's. Could use a chance to stretch my wings.
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Trust me, he wasn't the only one. It seems like the curse of being able to write is you've got too many demons and a bottle to get rid of them.
[He folds the paper and sticks it in his back pocket as he turns around. He flicks a hand ahead of him, but starts walking too.]
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[ a little wryly, in the way that it's actually terrible, or maybe in the way that it's familiar? who knows.
either way! off they go. aquila could just shadow transport them, but they do not, hands folded behind their back and enjoying the stroll. ] Do you do any writing of your own?
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Jason doesn't not seem to mind not being transported, but that's because he is a jock as much as he is a nerd. Jason gives Porridge a little whistle, and the dragon toddles after the two of them.]
Not really. Don't know if I'd be any good at it.
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anyway. they glance back briefly at porridge, amused, and then hum. ] Only one way to find out, isn't there? Promise not to make fun of your drafts too much. [ hehe ]
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Pft. What, you trying to get me to pen you some love poetry for real? [He shrugs, almost like he's a little dismissively shy.] I... could try, I guess.
What kind do you want?
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Something to sweep me off my feet?
[ terrible ]
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You want love poetry seriously? It's probably going to be garbage, so don't get your hopes up.
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