On the beach a bonfire is burning, there's still light in the sky so its not at its fullest yet. Beside it cords of wood and driftwood are ready to be tossed on so it can go higher
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There's a table set up not too far from where Doc's never-ending cask of rum and some of the other drinks are. On it, there is a framed photograph of Doc (and the rest of the Regulators). At one corner of the photograph, sitting on the table, is a lit candle, and near the other corner is a steel green origami crane. Kate folded it herself.
(If we're being honest, this was about her one-hundredth attempt at getting the bird to look right. A few of the 'rejects' are currently sitting in her bedroom, on her desk.)
Also on the table are some fresh flowers, and a nicely framed poem:
"Lying on high seat in the south study, We have lifted the curtain - and we see the rising moon Brighten with pure light the water and the grove And flow like a wave on our window and our door. It will move through the cycle, full moon and then crescent again, Calmly, beyond our wisdom, altering new to old.
Our chosen one, our friend, is now by a limpid river - Singing, perhaps, a plaintive eastern song. He is far, far away from us, three hundred miles away. And yet a breath of orchids comes along the wind."
(It's the first poem he ever read to her, but besides bearing special memories, it seems hauntingly appropriate for the occasion -- scrawled as it is in his own handwriting.)
Laying flat on one end of the table is a large piece of paper, and several nice pens. This time, the words at the top of the page are in Kate's handwriting:
Let's not forget in celebrating an outlaw, we are celebrating a man, who lived justly, loved freely, and fought passionately. He was a friend, a fighter, a doctor, a teacher, a gentleman, and a poet. Let you, his friends, be the ones who complete the poem of his rich and generous life.
Write a few lines about Doc. They can be anything. Let it be a tapestry of all the lives he touched.
'Since the loss of you I've learned that when everything goes wrong, To never give up on what is right Because it can only make you strong.*'
*from the poem, "Since The Loss Of You," found here, because the mun was struck with a flailing fit of writer's block. :/
[ooc: for anyone who may be confused, this is just a little idea I had for your pup to put down one or two lines about how they felt about Doc or just anything in general they'd like to add. It doesn't have to rhyme. :)]
Fi stares at the words on the page for a long time. Maybe it's the smoke that's making her eyes water. Eventually, she picks up the pen and starts to write.
Of all the money that ere I had, I spent it in good company. And of all the harm that ere I've done, alas was done to none but me. And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I cannot recall. So fill me to the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all.
Of all the comrades that ere I had, they're sorry for my going away, And of all the sweethearts that ere I had , they wish me one more day to stay, But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise while you should not, I will gently rise and I'll softly call, "Goodnight and joy be with you all!"
(If we're being honest, this was about her one-hundredth attempt at getting the bird to look right. A few of the 'rejects' are currently sitting in her bedroom, on her desk.)
Also on the table are some fresh flowers, and a nicely framed poem:
"Lying on high seat in the south study,
We have lifted the curtain - and we see the rising moon
Brighten with pure light the water and the grove
And flow like a wave on our window and our door.
It will move through the cycle, full moon and then crescent again,
Calmly, beyond our wisdom, altering new to old.
Our chosen one, our friend, is now by a limpid river -
Singing, perhaps, a plaintive eastern song.
He is far, far away from us, three hundred miles away.
And yet a breath of orchids comes along the wind."
(It's the first poem he ever read to her, but besides bearing special memories, it seems hauntingly appropriate for the occasion -- scrawled as it is in his own handwriting.)
Laying flat on one end of the table is a large piece of paper, and several nice pens. This time, the words at the top of the page are in Kate's handwriting:
Let's not forget in celebrating an outlaw, we are celebrating a man, who lived justly, loved freely, and fought passionately. He was a friend, a fighter, a doctor, a teacher, a gentleman, and a poet. Let you, his friends, be the ones who complete the poem of his rich and generous life.
Write a few lines about Doc. They can be anything. Let it be a tapestry of all the lives he touched.
Reply
'Since the loss of you
I've learned that when everything goes wrong,
To never give up on what is right
Because it can only make you strong.*'
*from the poem, "Since The Loss Of You," found here, because the mun was struck with a flailing fit of writer's block. :/
[ooc: for anyone who may be confused, this is just a little idea I had for your pup to put down one or two lines about how they felt about Doc or just anything in general they'd like to add. It doesn't have to rhyme. :)]
Reply
And in turn our hearts reached towards you
And I wish that there had been more time
To do all the things that friends can do'
- Guppy, Frogs and Alex
Reply
Proud to fight beside ye an drink with ye. Hope the Lord welcomes ye. Will
Reply
Of all the money that ere I had, I spent it in good company.
And of all the harm that ere I've done, alas was done to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I cannot recall.
So fill me to the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all.
Of all the comrades that ere I had, they're sorry for my going away,
And of all the sweethearts that ere I had , they wish me one more day to stay,
But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise while you should not,
I will gently rise and I'll softly call, "Goodnight and joy be with you all!"
~ traditional
Reply
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