nike_ravus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nike_ravus) wrote2011-06-23 09:52 pm
nike_ravus) wrote2011-06-23 09:52 pm
Entry tags:
Poem 50
Title: Poem 50 (High D'Haran Love Poetry 9/13)
Author: Alsike
Fandom: LotS
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Berdine/Raina
Disclaimer: Not mine, and as always the poems belong to Catullus.
Word Count: ~1400
Summary: Mord'Sith, poetry, some tiny semblance of plot.
Poem 51
Poem 2b
Poem 92
Poem 99
Poem 8
Poem 70
Poem 15
Poem 85
"You know, for the longest time, I was sure you were trying to make a fool of me."
Berdine blinked up from her reading to where Raina was sitting on the desk, legs swinging, puzzling out a section of a translation of a classical play. "What do you mean?"
"This is terrible." She held up the sheet. "What on earth is going on with this woman's weasels? Does it really say, 'and none of your weasels will fart less powerfully than you'? And why are people hitting each other with..." she frowned at the words. "Penis on a stick?"
Berdine laughed. No one had ever said classical things were classy. "That's what it says."
Raina glared. "You always talk like it's nothing, it's like gossip, or camp jokes. And it really is. I wouldn't have believed it before." She waved a hand at the books. "It all looks so impressive, and it was something I had no access too. It was like a mystery religion."
"Most of those are gossip and dirty jokes too," Berdine said. "People are people."
Raina frowned at her. "I was so frightened of you. And then you were acting like an idiot, and I was even more frightened. But you weren't just playing the fool. You're... not that much of a threat."
"Not to you."
"Hm."
Berdine went back to her reading, but there were eyes cutting through the leather on her back. She waited. There was rustling of paper and another small noise from Raina.
"Here it is."
Berdine listened.
"'I'm not too eager, Rahl, to wish to please you. Not even to know whether you are a white man or black.'"
Berdine smiled. The translation didn't really have the punch the original did, but it was still sly and intriguing, even with such clumsy words. "I don't recommend saying that one too loud. It's seditious."
"And your favorite poet." Raina raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
Berdine grinned at her rude expression. "I have dangerous taste."
Raina scoffed, but didn't disagree. "But it's not that seditious, on the surface. It's just... snotty. You said a little rich boy wrote it, and his friends probably all laughed."
"They probably thought it meant 'I'm not going to suck your cock, even to see how big it is, because you're ugly.'"
Raina laughed, just a little burst like she couldn't help it. Then she shook her head and looked back at Berdine, eyes sly and seeing, seeing far more than they ought. "But it doesn't really make sense, the way it is, right? He knows whether Rahl's skin is white or black. And, the way it's structured, it seems like wanting to please him and knowing should be parallel. It's an epigram, epigrams are parallel."
"Gold star."
Raina glared. "And white and black are omen colors, right? So, what he's really saying is, 'I don't want to serve you, Rahl.'" She frowned, and looked up at the bust of Alric Rahl on the shelf near the ceiling, and almost addressed him with the next words. "'Because I think you might be bringing death to us.'"
And that was a true interpretation, perfectly said. "Yes," Berdine looked away. The epigram had been written long ago, back before the bond, before the Rahls held perfect sway. And that was how far you had to look back before you could find such doubts. All later ones had been suppressed.
"That's like you." Raina said, crossing one leg over the other, stretching slightly, alluringly.
"What?"
"You're not a threat like this isn't a threat." She waved the paper. "It's a joke. It's insolent. It's only a threat if you see what's underneath."
The words behind the words. And Raina could hear the thoughts behind the thoughts. Berdine sat back in her chair and watched her. Raina looked half pleased and half suspicious. She waited for a reaction, relaxed and ready, and intent, eyes open, and seeing her, really seeing her, not like others did, as just the shadowy outline of a threat, or a tangled whirlwind of confusing words and actions, too bewildering to make sense of.
"I think you've just given me a compliment."
Raina groaned. "I'm done now. I have training." And she left.
* * *
"You've been spending too much time with her. It's interfering with your work."
Berdine scowled at Cara. "Who says that? She's assisting me."
"Stupid." Cara wrinkled her nose in a sneer.
"What?"
Cara caught her arm and jerked her into a side hallway. There she glowered. "Don't you understand? Everyone knows that's a lie. Everyone knows that she'll never be promoted higher than she is because she can't use a journey book. And she can't use a journey book because she can't read. There's no way she's assisting you in any other way but getting off. And honestly, even Denna isn't that insatiable. What does she do for you? Rub her tongue all over your-"
"Shut up!" Berdine hit her, and Cara, taken by surprise, crashed into the wall. "Don't speak of her like that. I'm not lying, and I haven't slept with her."
Cara recovered slowly, staring at Berdine, her expression puzzled. "You're telling me that you haven't slept with her?"
"I haven't."
"Why would you say that? Even if it's true, you shouldn't..." Cara closed her eyes. "It's true."
"Of course it's true." Berdine pressed her lips shut, looking down, knowing that it would sound like something to be ashamed of, but in truth she was far more ashamed of her inability to stop desiring her. But she was not the one who had the right to choose. She had made her offer, and that was all she could do.
"Why not! You've been obsessed with her for... for months!"
Berdine stared at her hands. "I don't know how."
Dead silence followed. "You... don't know how?" Cara punched her arm as if trying to wake her up. "I have first hand experience saying that you know how."
Berdine looked at her, compact frame, sturdy shoulders, expression of utter incredulity. She was not the girl who had needed a mistress, needed someone whose status was within reach, to let her fight again without being ground into the dirt when she lost. She had needed to remember how to lose without losing everything. It was an easy enough lesson to teach with sex, because even when you lost, you still halfway won. "I don't want it to be like that. I don't want to take her."
Cara frowned. "She doesn't have the status to top you."
"And she knows it." Berdine scowled and kept moving. "And there's nothing I can do about that."
* * *
Berdine had made a promise, to steal no more kisses, but it was hard, harder than she had imagined. The more time Raina spent in her library, leaving her image there, her scent, the echoes of her words and her laugh, the harder it became to forget her.
Berdine forgot her own work for one day, and spent it instead teaching poetry. Metrics, rhymes, stresses, assonance, she made it a game, writing little insulting poems about various Mord'Sith of their acquaintance. Raina had a flair for an insightfully cutting remark, and a good enough ear to put together a lay. The time slipped away without Berdine noticing at all.
When Raina pushed herself up, saying she had to go, still happy and pleased over the last effort, Berdine had glanced to the window, and noticed in surprise how late it had gotten.
"I'm sorry for keeping you."
Raina flashed a smile and shook her head. "Don't be." She dropped the quill on the table with a casual gesture, and Berdine pulled in air through her nose, keeping herself taut and under control. She would not reach out. She would not fall to her knees and beg for just a little more time, a little more closeness.
She could not let herself hate the way it felt, having to stay so far away.
And after I left your charm and your wit behind,
I began to burn,
so much so that neither food could help me,
nor sleep cover quietly my eyes,
But untamable, I was tossed and turned about on my bed,
by encompassing passionate love,
Longing to see the light of day,
so that I could speak with you,
and also so that I could be with you.
But afterwards my limbs became exhausted by this labor,
Half dead, they lie ill in bed.
Darling, this poem I made for you,
And please see through it my grief.
Now, beware of being bold, we beg you,
Beware of despising our request, darling,
Lest Nemesis claims a penalty from you.
She is a violent goddess, beware of offending her.
Part 10
Author: Alsike
Fandom: LotS
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Berdine/Raina
Disclaimer: Not mine, and as always the poems belong to Catullus.
Word Count: ~1400
Summary: Mord'Sith, poetry, some tiny semblance of plot.
Poem 51
Poem 2b
Poem 92
Poem 99
Poem 8
Poem 70
Poem 15
Poem 85
"You know, for the longest time, I was sure you were trying to make a fool of me."
Berdine blinked up from her reading to where Raina was sitting on the desk, legs swinging, puzzling out a section of a translation of a classical play. "What do you mean?"
"This is terrible." She held up the sheet. "What on earth is going on with this woman's weasels? Does it really say, 'and none of your weasels will fart less powerfully than you'? And why are people hitting each other with..." she frowned at the words. "Penis on a stick?"
Berdine laughed. No one had ever said classical things were classy. "That's what it says."
Raina glared. "You always talk like it's nothing, it's like gossip, or camp jokes. And it really is. I wouldn't have believed it before." She waved a hand at the books. "It all looks so impressive, and it was something I had no access too. It was like a mystery religion."
"Most of those are gossip and dirty jokes too," Berdine said. "People are people."
Raina frowned at her. "I was so frightened of you. And then you were acting like an idiot, and I was even more frightened. But you weren't just playing the fool. You're... not that much of a threat."
"Not to you."
"Hm."
Berdine went back to her reading, but there were eyes cutting through the leather on her back. She waited. There was rustling of paper and another small noise from Raina.
"Here it is."
Berdine listened.
"'I'm not too eager, Rahl, to wish to please you. Not even to know whether you are a white man or black.'"
Berdine smiled. The translation didn't really have the punch the original did, but it was still sly and intriguing, even with such clumsy words. "I don't recommend saying that one too loud. It's seditious."
"And your favorite poet." Raina raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
Berdine grinned at her rude expression. "I have dangerous taste."
Raina scoffed, but didn't disagree. "But it's not that seditious, on the surface. It's just... snotty. You said a little rich boy wrote it, and his friends probably all laughed."
"They probably thought it meant 'I'm not going to suck your cock, even to see how big it is, because you're ugly.'"
Raina laughed, just a little burst like she couldn't help it. Then she shook her head and looked back at Berdine, eyes sly and seeing, seeing far more than they ought. "But it doesn't really make sense, the way it is, right? He knows whether Rahl's skin is white or black. And, the way it's structured, it seems like wanting to please him and knowing should be parallel. It's an epigram, epigrams are parallel."
"Gold star."
Raina glared. "And white and black are omen colors, right? So, what he's really saying is, 'I don't want to serve you, Rahl.'" She frowned, and looked up at the bust of Alric Rahl on the shelf near the ceiling, and almost addressed him with the next words. "'Because I think you might be bringing death to us.'"
And that was a true interpretation, perfectly said. "Yes," Berdine looked away. The epigram had been written long ago, back before the bond, before the Rahls held perfect sway. And that was how far you had to look back before you could find such doubts. All later ones had been suppressed.
"That's like you." Raina said, crossing one leg over the other, stretching slightly, alluringly.
"What?"
"You're not a threat like this isn't a threat." She waved the paper. "It's a joke. It's insolent. It's only a threat if you see what's underneath."
The words behind the words. And Raina could hear the thoughts behind the thoughts. Berdine sat back in her chair and watched her. Raina looked half pleased and half suspicious. She waited for a reaction, relaxed and ready, and intent, eyes open, and seeing her, really seeing her, not like others did, as just the shadowy outline of a threat, or a tangled whirlwind of confusing words and actions, too bewildering to make sense of.
"I think you've just given me a compliment."
Raina groaned. "I'm done now. I have training." And she left.
* * *
"You've been spending too much time with her. It's interfering with your work."
Berdine scowled at Cara. "Who says that? She's assisting me."
"Stupid." Cara wrinkled her nose in a sneer.
"What?"
Cara caught her arm and jerked her into a side hallway. There she glowered. "Don't you understand? Everyone knows that's a lie. Everyone knows that she'll never be promoted higher than she is because she can't use a journey book. And she can't use a journey book because she can't read. There's no way she's assisting you in any other way but getting off. And honestly, even Denna isn't that insatiable. What does she do for you? Rub her tongue all over your-"
"Shut up!" Berdine hit her, and Cara, taken by surprise, crashed into the wall. "Don't speak of her like that. I'm not lying, and I haven't slept with her."
Cara recovered slowly, staring at Berdine, her expression puzzled. "You're telling me that you haven't slept with her?"
"I haven't."
"Why would you say that? Even if it's true, you shouldn't..." Cara closed her eyes. "It's true."
"Of course it's true." Berdine pressed her lips shut, looking down, knowing that it would sound like something to be ashamed of, but in truth she was far more ashamed of her inability to stop desiring her. But she was not the one who had the right to choose. She had made her offer, and that was all she could do.
"Why not! You've been obsessed with her for... for months!"
Berdine stared at her hands. "I don't know how."
Dead silence followed. "You... don't know how?" Cara punched her arm as if trying to wake her up. "I have first hand experience saying that you know how."
Berdine looked at her, compact frame, sturdy shoulders, expression of utter incredulity. She was not the girl who had needed a mistress, needed someone whose status was within reach, to let her fight again without being ground into the dirt when she lost. She had needed to remember how to lose without losing everything. It was an easy enough lesson to teach with sex, because even when you lost, you still halfway won. "I don't want it to be like that. I don't want to take her."
Cara frowned. "She doesn't have the status to top you."
"And she knows it." Berdine scowled and kept moving. "And there's nothing I can do about that."
* * *
Berdine had made a promise, to steal no more kisses, but it was hard, harder than she had imagined. The more time Raina spent in her library, leaving her image there, her scent, the echoes of her words and her laugh, the harder it became to forget her.
Berdine forgot her own work for one day, and spent it instead teaching poetry. Metrics, rhymes, stresses, assonance, she made it a game, writing little insulting poems about various Mord'Sith of their acquaintance. Raina had a flair for an insightfully cutting remark, and a good enough ear to put together a lay. The time slipped away without Berdine noticing at all.
When Raina pushed herself up, saying she had to go, still happy and pleased over the last effort, Berdine had glanced to the window, and noticed in surprise how late it had gotten.
"I'm sorry for keeping you."
Raina flashed a smile and shook her head. "Don't be." She dropped the quill on the table with a casual gesture, and Berdine pulled in air through her nose, keeping herself taut and under control. She would not reach out. She would not fall to her knees and beg for just a little more time, a little more closeness.
She could not let herself hate the way it felt, having to stay so far away.
Yesterday, an idle day,
We played many games in my notebook,
Until we had become as ones addicted to pleasure,
Writing verses, and both of us
Playing with meter and measure, this measure and that,
Passing them back and forth amongst jokes and wine.
And after I left your charm and your wit behind,
I began to burn,
so much so that neither food could help me,
nor sleep cover quietly my eyes,
But untamable, I was tossed and turned about on my bed,
by encompassing passionate love,
Longing to see the light of day,
so that I could speak with you,
and also so that I could be with you.
But afterwards my limbs became exhausted by this labor,
Half dead, they lie ill in bed.
Darling, this poem I made for you,
And please see through it my grief.
Now, beware of being bold, we beg you,
Beware of despising our request, darling,
Lest Nemesis claims a penalty from you.
She is a violent goddess, beware of offending her.
Part 10