Scene 8 - 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy

[tender_juliet]

I fear all good intents have been for naught, for I do see such sickness about. Find thou a physician, I beg thee all, 'fore little troubles grow and cause thee thy deathbed for to seek.

Dearest cousin, and dear friend Dawn, I shall brew thee tea and sit by thy sides as oft as I might. And pray thy hurts and sickness pass anon.

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[tangodelamuerte]

With tender angels tending to my wounds methinks I've perished and sent to the pearl constructed gates.

How fairs Juliet?

[tender_juliet]

The attentions of angels are only what Tybalt doth deserve.

Well and well, dear cousin. Only fearful for all who by illness are taken.

[tangodelamuerte]

All Capulets art a step away from halos and wings. For are not all cats? So many times brush against the cool, curved scythe's side to then disagreeably hiss and return to all fours on the ground. In the black, Michael runs his fingers down feline spines to commend little warriors.

Surely it is all in passing. Worry not.

[tender_juliet]

Ay, and Tybalt most of all, and least of all. For he is sharp of wit and fleet of foot and Lady Fortune loves him best of all her children.

Worry I shall, I fear, 'til thou art whole and home, and friends are no longer stalked by plaguey threat.

[tangodelamuerte]

Be this true or false, one can't say. The proof methinks may lie in company. Juliet is most dear to Fortune's favors. Her claws remain clean as her whiskers, she sits in sunshine bathed windows. There do angels see thee and sigh, touching thy back in sleep. Blessed are we.

By and by I'll return. And so with happy, healthy company together reunited shall make a feast.

[tender_juliet]

Thy loving words do much to warm my heart and ease my mind, dear cousin. Blessed are we indeed. Juliet shall speak no more of woe, but only raise hymns of gladness for Tybalt's comfort.

I shall hold thee to thy word, both of return and health and feasting. We shall make merry, and chase all cares from our door.

[tangodelamuerte]

Count me thus as a successful cousin. Smile still, woe and grief pass as dour clouds o'er the star that brings us luck and joy.

Consider my word binding. I am tightly held. Nor shall I think to do anything else.

[tender_juliet]

Smile I shall, an it bring good Tybalt joy. And smile ever through all troubles may come.

Thy word is honor defined, and thine honor without question.

...But I beg thee, Tybalt, watch thyself. For the man thou speak'st to is Warden.