♛ | 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

[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]

"Er." She hesitated for a moment, then checked the page she'd marked. "It's called The Way Through the Woods, by a poet named Rudyard Kipling. It really is rather nice, isn't it?"

[ann_withane]

"Nice doesn't begin to describe it!" Anne said, her voice a mixture of wonder and reproach. "Nice is how you describe a quilt or a cake that isn't quite perfect. No, that was divine."

[primrosella]

Rosella couldn't help but raise an amused eyebrow at that description. Divine? It was a lovely poem, to be sure, but she didn't think she'd go so far as to call it divine.

"Well, I'm certainly glad you enjoyed it," she said after a beat, trying not to chuckle.

[ann_withane]

Anne could tell Rosella was holding back a chuckle -- adults always seemed to be amused at what she said, and she didn't know why. She was always perfectly serious. It was really quite vexing, and Anne resolved anew that when she was an adult, she would never, EVER even think about laughing at a child who was being completely serious.

[primrosella]

She did, in fact, manage to restrain her chuckling, and settled for grinning instead. "Are you by any chance familiar with Rudyard Kipling?" she asked, opting to smoothly change the subject. "I'm not, unfortunately. This was the first I'd read of any of his poetry."

[ann_withane]

Anne shook her head. "I'm really only familiar with the Romantic poets," she said. "There aren't many books where I'm from."

[primrosella]

"Which ones are the Romantic poets?" Rosella asked curiously. She could think of plenty of romantic poems, of course, but she couldn't help but wonder which poets were classified as Romantics.

brain crashing. will probably have to stop tagging soon orz

[ann_withane]

"Poets like Keats and Blake," Anne said.

not a problem, I am totally cool with backdating if you want

[primrosella]

"Ah, I see." She didn't, exactly, but at least now she had two more names to look for, the next time she found herself scouring poetry books. She made a note to look into them. "I'm rather partial to Shakespeare, myself."

/butts in <33

[had_not_lived]

"Byron and Shelley, too," Neil added with a grin. "I love the Romantics." He'd been considering reading himself-- not that he was reluctant. When it came to poetry Neil was anything but shy; but he wanted to make sure everyone felt comfortable, and included... didn't want to hold center stage.

OMG Neil GTFO no just kidding <3

[primrosella]

"Oh, will you read something of theirs?" Rosella asked, smiling encouragement. "I'd very much like to hear it, if you like them so much."

he sees how it is sob.

[had_not_lived]

Well, it seemed an opportune moment. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, where he'd been playing with it all evening; rolling and unrolling it, folding it til the crisp line in the center had softened, scuffing the ink. Neil wasn't entirely certain this had been the best choice-- it was a sad poem, and he knew that Todd at least would understand why it hit him so strongly-- but somehow he wanted to share it.

"The flower that smiles today
Tomorrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies;
What is this world's delight?
Lightning, that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.

Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship how rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But these though they soon fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.

Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilst eyes that change ere night
Make glad the day,
Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Dream thou - and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep."