♛ | Dead Poets Society Meeting : June 05

[had_not_lived]

When; Evening of June 5th
Rating; probably not past pg-13?
Characters; Neil Perry [had-not-lived], Todd Anderson [mumbled_truth], Robin Goodfellow [winewomenand], Cain Hargreaves [misterblackbird], Anne Shirley [ann_withane], Rosella [primrosella], Kate Bishop [girlwithabow]; IF I MISSED SOMEONE / YOU ARE INTERESTED IN JOINING, FEEL FREE TO PING ME!
Summary; The first official meeting of the City Chapter of the Dead Poets Society.

Comments

[ann_withane]

Anne shivered with delight as she listened to Neil speak, as though he were not merely quoting the words of a philosopher, but conjuring the spell of some ancient, primal magic.

She had always dreamed of something like this -- no, that wasn't true. She had never even thought to dream of something as wonderful as this, but from the moment Neil and Todd had told her about it, the idea had taken hold of her soul so strongly, it seemed to be a part of the very fiber of her being. It became a part of every waking fancy. That the reality managed not only to live up to her imagination, but surpass it, was astonishing.

The Dead Poets Society. Even the name gave her a thrill.

She looked around, excited but also nervous, as she was by far the youngest one there. The next youngest was sixteen or seventeen at least. Anne almost felt as if she didn't have the right to speak, when there were so many older and wiser people about. But while fear had often told her to hold her tongue, it rarely managed to make her do so. She gulped nervously

[had_not_lived]

"You can start if you like." He smiled at Anne. It hadn't surprised him that she'd leaped at the idea; and though she was a bit younger than the rest of them, he thought she fit the spirit of the Society quite naturally.

"Here."

Neil turned the book over to her gently, letting the pages fall closed. He hadn't marked anything yet; he felt a pang, thinking of Keatings' worn copy of Five Centuries of Verse, dog-eared and inkstained and perfect.

"Find something you like."

[ann_withane]

Anne knew what poem she wanted to recite. It was the poem of her heart, her comfort in times of loneliness and thwarted need. At this point, she didn't even need to read it.

She waited for Cain to finish reciting, closing her eyes and letting his words flow over her. And then, without introducing it or herself, she began reciting.

" On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott. "

She recited the entire thing with her eyes closed, her spirit no longer in the room but there in the tower with the lonely lady.

[misterblackbird]

Cain had to smile a bit in recognition of that one. Lady of Shalott. It was its own story, but the ties it had in his memory were strange ones.

[girlwithabow]

Kate didn't tell neither Bill or Ted where she was headed. In fact, she took it upon herself to sneak out of the apartment because if she got caught (like she would have been anyway), the 'going on patrol' excuse wouldn't fly. Not tonight, what with her dressed in jeans and a hoodie rather than her regular uniform.

She didn't embarrass easily, but Kate had her secret interests and this was one of them. How could she explain to the two geeks at home that she was going to the woods to listen to some guys read poetry? Right. That one would fly just great.

Listening to Neil recite Thoreau's written lines, Kate looked around at all the other faces, some she knew, some she didn't. She wasn't sure if she fit in here, but hey, Kate'd try anything once.

"Sooooo," she drawled when Neil had finished. "We get started doing what?"

[had_not_lived]

"Poetry," he sad, with an oddly conspiratorial little grin. It was hard to explain; and as far as Neil was concerned, the primary worry was that it wouldn't just happen, the way it had at home. But damned if he wasn't going to do his best to encourage it.

He nodded in Anne's direction. "You can take the book next if you like, if you haven't got anything in mind." Neil turned back to Kate and smiled, trying to seem encouraging. Her invitation had been a bit sudden, after all, and she'd had less time to get used to the idea-- much less prepare.

{Open}

[misterblackbird]

How did one start a meeting like this one? Did one simply start reading a poem? There had been mentions of writing poetry, but he'd had enough of that in one curse or another--at least for the time being

{Open}

[had_not_lived]

"Sure. Someone has to." He laughed, a little nervously; not entirely sure how to kick things off, to get everyone comfortable. It had been simpler with his classmates-- they knew each other well already, and as such feared no more than average ridicule, which wouldn't differ whether or not they read well. Taking a group from among his acquaintances in the City was a little different.

"Did you have something in mind, already?"

{Open}

[misterblackbird]

"I found something, since it seemed only right to bring something. Though it's not what we'd talked of before."

He drew the book from its hiding-place behind his back and found with his thumb the bookmark he'd put in it. He'd thought this poem seemed rather fitting for the group, a poem about poetry, or of great poets. It followed well enough. It was dark, and the pages were dim. Still, he could read well enough:

"Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor,
Most gracious singer of high poems! where
The dancers will break footing, from the care
Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more.
And dost thou lift this house’s latch too poor
For hand of thine? and canst thou think and bear
To let thy music drop here unaware
In folds of golden fulness at my door?
Look up and see the casement broken in,
The bats and owlets builders in the roof!
My cricket chirps against thy mandolin.
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
Of desolation! there’s a voice within
That weeps . . . as thou must sing . . . alone, aloof."

{Open}

[ann_withane]

Anne was utterly enthralled with Cain's reading. Chills ran through her body.

[primrosella]

Getting to the meeting place in Xanadu had been quite an adventure for Rosella. It was tricky enough, trying to Rollerblade in a long skirt and cloak without getting them all tangled up in her wheels; doing it while balancing a basket full of cookies and a bag of poetry books was a whole new challenge. But she'd made it without incident, and she was excited to see what Neil and Todd had in store for that evening.

She listened intently as Neil spoke the opening message, occasionally glancing around at the others joining them, but mostly watching him read. If she'd had any doubts about how solemn and important this society was to her two friends before, they all would've disappeared the moment the proceedings began. She was far from familiar with Henry David Thoreau, but there were a lot of names and poets she didn't recognize, and that was all right with her, really. She didn't have to be familiar with him to recognize the implications behind the message--carpe diem, as the boys always liked to say. Seize the dayWhen Neil was finished

[had_not_lived]

Neil caught Rosella's smile out of the corner of his eye, and grinned back at her, settling against a wall for the moment. She at least seemed comfortable, if quiet. He was glad she'd come, and reminded himself to say thank-you later for the cookies.

[primrosella]

"Well, I..." Rosella drew a slow breath, reaching for the bag at her side and withdrawing one of the books. Cain and Anne had both read a piece, and she supposed that now it was her turn, wasn't it? There was a poem she'd marked in one of her books that rather seemed to fit the mood of the event--and she'd marked quite a few of them, just in case. But she rather liked this one, and once she found the page, she continued, "I suppose it's my turn, then, isn't it

[ann_withane]

When Rosella finished reading, Anne let out the breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. "That was beautiful," she said quietly. "What is it called?"

[primrosella]

It really was a lovely thing, seeing Todd so excited about all this. Rosella remembered how he'd looked when she'd paid a visit into his dreams, smiling and confident and genuinely happy; this was something similar, she noted, and it made her happy to see him looking so lively.

She flashed him an encouraging grin when he looked her way, idly wondering if he planned on reading any of his own poetry that evening. She hoped he would, sometime--if not tonight, then at one of the subsequent meetings. But of course, only time would tell, wouldn't it?