@Cypr3ss
(So sorry for the long wait! Been a bit tired as of late.
Almost took like 3 naps today!)
"Ah, I believe I know of just the poets to call forth and handle both of these requests!" He proudly shifts his rose around as he coils up. "My prince Balthazar and Sir Verdis? Are you here?"
"Why yes. I am delighted to write for an aspiring forgemaster."
"Wonderful! And er, Verdis?"
"He's away for now. Maybe I can help write.~" She slinks in behind Janvier and ruffles her red feathers.
Janvier looks mortified. "Oh, mother please no-!" He tugs his hat down to cover his face while waving his wing over her. "D-ju-wh-! Please, please put something more decent on, you're embarrassing me.."
"I'll write for the other request, in Verdis' stead.~" She hums and gently shakes Janvier's head by his horn. "Ohh, love-pie don't you worry.~ I'm not so terrible a poet you know.~ I may be a smidge better at it than I am at-"
"Mother-! Mother mother mother!" He hastily interrupts and pushes her aside in sheer embarrassment. "Please! Erm, w-wait your turn. Ahh, you see, Prince Balthazar has the first request. Isn't that right majesty?!~"
"Oh. Well, that much is true." He smiles kindly. "But if your mother wishes to show her skills first, I will happily step aside."
"No." He groans in sheer bewildering defeat. "No no no no no..."
"Well, it seems I've no choice.~ Thank you so kindly majesty.~ I very much plan to, show my skills.~" She brushes past and takes a sultry posed seat, brushing her smile with the quill. "Ohh, what are you so worried about Janvier?~ Don't you know I don't quit until I make the customer happy?~"
He coils up into a knot and hides himself in his hat with a yelp of disapproval. "mmrmgmmmohouumm!"
She sets to writing without another word and every so often stokes her puffy feathers aside and nods. She eyes the parchment with a cold but dreamy gaze, as if taking control of dictation. She then tosses her head back and shuts her eyes in thought, humming, before returning to the parchment.
Once she is finished, she sets down the quill and smiles, patting her jaw with a claw and pushes forth the parchment, her poem written.
"That was nice.~ Janvier, you really must see.~ No?" She chuckles with luscious amusement at his adamant coiled up, grouchiness. "Oh well.~ Too bad.~ Here you are.~ Thank you for stopping by my darling love-pie's parlor.~ Enjoy.~"
(So sorry for the long wait! Been a bit tired as of late.
Almost took like 3 naps today!) "Ah, I believe I know of just the poets to call forth and handle both of these requests!" He proudly shifts his rose around as he coils up. "My prince Balthazar and Sir Verdis? Are you here?" "Why yes. I am delighted to write for an aspiring forgemaster." "Wonderful! And er, Verdis?" "He's away for now. Maybe I can help write.~" She slinks in behind Janvier and ruffles her red feathers. Janvier looks mortified. "Oh, mother please no-!" He tugs his hat down to cover his face while waving his wing over her. "D-ju-wh-! Please, please put something more decent on, you're embarrassing me.." "I'll write for the other request, in Verdis' stead.~" She hums and gently shakes Janvier's head by his horn. "Ohh, love-pie don't you worry.~ I'm not so terrible a poet you know.~ I may be a smidge better at it than I am at-" "Mother-! Mother mother mother!" He hastily interrupts and pushes her aside in sheer embarrassment. "Please! Erm, w-wait your turn. Ahh, you see, Prince Balthazar has the first request. Isn't that right majesty?!~" "Oh. Well, that much is true." He smiles kindly. "But if your mother wishes to show her skills first, I will happily step aside." "No." He groans in sheer bewildering defeat. "No no no no no..." "Well, it seems I've no choice.~ Thank you so kindly majesty.~ I very much plan to, show my skills.~" She brushes past and takes a sultry posed seat, brushing her smile with the quill. "Ohh, what are you so worried about Janvier?~ Don't you know I don't quit until I make the customer happy?~" He coils up into a knot and hides himself in his hat with a yelp of disapproval. "mmrmgmmmohouumm!" She sets to writing without another word and every so often stokes her puffy feathers aside and nods. She eyes the parchment with a cold but dreamy gaze, as if taking control of dictation. She then tosses her head back and shuts her eyes in thought, humming, before returning to the parchment.Once she is finished, she sets down the quill and smiles, patting her jaw with a claw and pushes forth the parchment, her poem written.
"That was nice.~ Janvier, you really must see.~ No?" She chuckles with luscious amusement at his adamant coiled up, grouchiness. "Oh well.~ Too bad.~ Here you are.~ Thank you for stopping by my darling love-pie's parlor.~ Enjoy.~"
Every Rose
Every rose
Has a gown, flowing,
flowering, velvet color
rich with life,
and a shawl of gentle
cowering, night pulls
shut the soft petals.
Every rose
Has a stem, stretched
tall or small, green
firm and robust,
a tight leg to linger upon,
seated with sepal, a
regal particular cushion.
Every rose
Has a scent, fresher,
finer, sublime, alluring,
sweet aroma travels,
and beckons all to touch, to
bend and kiss, take in and
savor life's sweet caress.
Every rose
Has a color, so pale,
so rich, so dark, love's
dance runs with red,
and sweet peach,
flesh-soft and virgin white,
so they may sway among
green towers and
the blue light above.
Every rose
Has thorns, protecting,
collecting, perfecting a
beauty, a gift of Eden,
to be shared and repaired,
to save from living so brief,
or to inflict a penalty,
for treading over petal and leaf,
save for the rose itself
entire,
all live and grow,
all multiply,
and expire.
Every rose
Has a gown, flowing,
flowering, velvet color
rich with life,
and a shawl of gentle
cowering, night pulls
shut the soft petals.
Every rose
Has a stem, stretched
tall or small, green
firm and robust,
a tight leg to linger upon,
seated with sepal, a
regal particular cushion.
Every rose
Has a scent, fresher,
finer, sublime, alluring,
sweet aroma travels,
and beckons all to touch, to
bend and kiss, take in and
savor life's sweet caress.
Every rose
Has a color, so pale,
so rich, so dark, love's
dance runs with red,
and sweet peach,
flesh-soft and virgin white,
so they may sway among
green towers and
the blue light above.
Every rose
Has thorns, protecting,
collecting, perfecting a
beauty, a gift of Eden,
to be shared and repaired,
to save from living so brief,
or to inflict a penalty,
for treading over petal and leaf,
save for the rose itself
entire,
all live and grow,
all multiply,
and expire.
+~She/Her Majesty/Her Highness~+
Boop snoots
Not boots
