There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream ( Read more... )

[Iago sounds pretty chill. A little too chill. Maybe even drunkenly chill.]

Of all base passions, fear is most accursed.

Isn't that what they say? Or what he says? Why do you suppose that is? Since we're so focused on analyzing literature lately, shaming those who call the worlds inside those books home, I simply thought this would fit in with ( Read more... )

[Iago doesn't seem well.There are dark circles under his eyes, since he hasn't slept since the night before the flood started. Paranoia isn't a good look for him. Especially this sort of paranoia, which is the same kind he was inflicting on Othello for so long. The paranoia that he's being betrayed behind the scenes. It's been getting worse since ( Read more... )

Define loyalty. In both a personal and, well, professional sense.

( Private to Sexby and Marquis )

Consider those of innocent minds, this advice once given.

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a flying:
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

Dying. Not dead. Not alive. Dying. In the process of death. We can deviate from the rest of the poem to this one particular point that, admittedly, is quite off topic, but ( Read more... )

Does it seem strange to anyone else that there seem to be no...families here? Just individuals, who have all lost their memories. Don't families usually come on cruises together sometimes?

And, speaking of which, I think I have a missing spouse wife. I have a wedding ring, at any rate, and a vast collection of poetry. I'm not sure what those two ( Read more... )

What is friendship? True, selfless friendship?

I thought I understood once. But I always knew it was wrong. I always knew I was wrong.

[Private to the Marquis]

I have reached the lowest point, I believe. I think there is really no way to go but up. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I'm just tired of it all. Tired of being frustrated, ( Read more... )

Virgins promised when I died,
That they would each primrose-tide
Duly, morn and evening, come,
And with flowers dress my tomb.
--Having promised, pay your debts
Maids, and here strew violets.

[Private to the Marquis]

It has been a week, has it not? Now what?

[Private to Judas]

How are you faring?

I have heard it once said that a mirror does not lie. That it reveals the best and the worst of a person, without judgment, without fail. Perhaps this is true in most cases. Perhaps in most worlds. But not here.

Yet another thing the Barge is not consistent on.

I hate this body.

( Private to the Marquis and Judas )

Who honestly believes this is a lull? There is always death, destruction and deceit aboard this Barge. There is never calm, if you sit still enough to see it. Ripples in a calm pond can mean mayhem under the surface.

I need something new to read. I have gone through Whitman, Frost and Keats. I need something...new to calm the spirit.

[Private to ( Read more... )