April Flowers Prompt #27, Quatrain
Title: Quatrain
Author: mrstater
Rating & Warnings: rated B for Bad, Very Very Bad Poetry
Characters/ Pairing: Palli, Caz/Betriz
Prompt: #27, poetry
Format & Word Count: drabble, 258 words
Summary: Cazaril's body is on the mend, but the same cannot be said for his poetry skills.
A nose by any other name at all
Could never smell as sweet, nor could enthrall
Me with its perch on my dear Lady's face
Long and slender, and upturned with such grace.
Betriz looks up from the parchment scrawled over in Cazaril's hand. If she was amused while reading his strange ode to her nose, she is fairly alarmed, now, by his broad grin.
Not losing her own smile, she leans toward Palli and says through her teeth, "Is he quite mad?"
Palli lays a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. "Fear not, Lady Betriz. His poetry was always this bad."
"And my nose always was rather long," says Betriz, her smile faltering.
"Long loved by me!" says Cazaril.
Betriz turns to Palli. "You are certain he is not mad?"
"Mad?" Cazaril doesn't make a good case for himself, with that irrepressible grin beaming on despite his evident concern. "Why should you be angry, my Lady? Haven't you always wished for me to express my devotion to you? What better vehicle than verse?"
"Er," says Palli, "Perhaps he is a little fevered, withal."
Wordlessly, Betriz turns on her heel and makes haste from the room, presumably to fetch the physician.
"When you return," Cazaril calls after her, taking up his pen from the bedside table, "I shall have composed a quatrain to your fingertips. Or perhaps an epic!"
"I think, old friend," says Palli, sitting himself down with a side, "your poetic endeavors are a little ambitious at present."
"Oh." Cazaril's smile wavers--briefly. "Perhaps just a couplet."
Author: mrstater
Rating & Warnings: rated B for Bad, Very Very Bad Poetry
Characters/ Pairing: Palli, Caz/Betriz
Prompt: #27, poetry
Format & Word Count: drabble, 258 words
Summary: Cazaril's body is on the mend, but the same cannot be said for his poetry skills.
A nose by any other name at all
Could never smell as sweet, nor could enthrall
Me with its perch on my dear Lady's face
Long and slender, and upturned with such grace.
Betriz looks up from the parchment scrawled over in Cazaril's hand. If she was amused while reading his strange ode to her nose, she is fairly alarmed, now, by his broad grin.
Not losing her own smile, she leans toward Palli and says through her teeth, "Is he quite mad?"
Palli lays a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. "Fear not, Lady Betriz. His poetry was always this bad."
"And my nose always was rather long," says Betriz, her smile faltering.
"Long loved by me!" says Cazaril.
Betriz turns to Palli. "You are certain he is not mad?"
"Mad?" Cazaril doesn't make a good case for himself, with that irrepressible grin beaming on despite his evident concern. "Why should you be angry, my Lady? Haven't you always wished for me to express my devotion to you? What better vehicle than verse?"
"Er," says Palli, "Perhaps he is a little fevered, withal."
Wordlessly, Betriz turns on her heel and makes haste from the room, presumably to fetch the physician.
"When you return," Cazaril calls after her, taking up his pen from the bedside table, "I shall have composed a quatrain to your fingertips. Or perhaps an epic!"
"I think, old friend," says Palli, sitting himself down with a side, "your poetic endeavors are a little ambitious at present."
"Oh." Cazaril's smile wavers--briefly. "Perhaps just a couplet."