[Video] (Bad Garland, no touchy)
[When the video turns on, it shows Zidane, in the library of Alexandria Castle, book in hand. There's no one else around, apparently, which is lucky because he's about to do... this.]
Hear ye, hear ye! As it has been made known that there doth be romance in the air of the Mist Continent, romance binding two souls together whom could not be more different - one, a lady of much grace and splendor, filled with ideas of virtue and compassion for others, another, a lowly rogue who dreams of rising above his meager beginnings through the joyous birth of true love! Never mind that said enchanting lady is more than a foot above his own paltry height! Never mind that his own miniscule mind cannot comprehend our good lady's noble thoughts! Theirs is a love destined to last through the ages, if he could but express it! And as his tongue seems to be tied in so many knots around said woman that the florid language of love will never pour from his lips, it has been left to me, his stalwart brother, to make the lady known of the depths of his affections! Listen, fair Lady Mjrn, to a sonnet written by the illustrious Lord Avon, designed to fill your breast with love and euphoria!
[And he clears his throat dramatically, opens the book to a premarked page, holds one hand up dramatically, and begins to read in an overly theatrical voice and tone.]
So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure:
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight
Save what is had, or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
[He pauses, closing his eyes dramatically, then sweeps an overly elaborate bow to the camera.]
My lady Mjrn, if you do choose to return said lowly beggar's affections, then I must request you hasten to notify him of your acceptance. His heart bleeds every moment he must wait for word from you. And now, Adieu!
[Zidane can get away with this shit. He's spent his life on the stage and never had any shame, EVER. He's still expecting Blank to hunt him down and beat the shit out of him, though.]
Hear ye, hear ye! As it has been made known that there doth be romance in the air of the Mist Continent, romance binding two souls together whom could not be more different - one, a lady of much grace and splendor, filled with ideas of virtue and compassion for others, another, a lowly rogue who dreams of rising above his meager beginnings through the joyous birth of true love! Never mind that said enchanting lady is more than a foot above his own paltry height! Never mind that his own miniscule mind cannot comprehend our good lady's noble thoughts! Theirs is a love destined to last through the ages, if he could but express it! And as his tongue seems to be tied in so many knots around said woman that the florid language of love will never pour from his lips, it has been left to me, his stalwart brother, to make the lady known of the depths of his affections! Listen, fair Lady Mjrn, to a sonnet written by the illustrious Lord Avon, designed to fill your breast with love and euphoria!
[And he clears his throat dramatically, opens the book to a premarked page, holds one hand up dramatically, and begins to read in an overly theatrical voice and tone.]
So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure:
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight
Save what is had, or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
[He pauses, closing his eyes dramatically, then sweeps an overly elaborate bow to the camera.]
My lady Mjrn, if you do choose to return said lowly beggar's affections, then I must request you hasten to notify him of your acceptance. His heart bleeds every moment he must wait for word from you. And now, Adieu!
[Zidane can get away with this shit. He's spent his life on the stage and never had any shame, EVER. He's still expecting Blank to hunt him down and beat the shit out of him, though.]