3 Gawain snapshots
3 based on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (because we discussed it in class today, and I wrote these instead of speaking up in class, and at least they aren't slash or my notes would be really embarrassing), for the last three daily prompts. ... from like a hundred years ago.
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Away
He has been away from his uncle's court for too many weeks, and he feels that he has almost forgotten the ways of civilization, out here in this lonely, elemental place, this raw breath of wilderness; he slips off his horse and kneels in prayer, using the words as a shield against the sky, but the prayer spins away on the wind, and he is as he was, alone on the earth.
Green
He dreams that night of a cavern green above and beneath, where everything his eye falls upon is green and dappled gold, like the inside of a leaf; closer to nature than he knew it was possible to be, he suddenly realizes that this trembling in his hands, this catch in his breath, this quiver in his heart, this is fear for his own sworn-away life (and in the morning, though the dream has gone, he keeps the leaf-green band against the fear he knows will come again).
Hot
It is the dead of winter, and by rights the world should be frozen, a barren sheet of ice, but here in this castle, the very idea of cold is laughable, for the lady's kisses are hot as summer and sweet as spring.
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Away
He has been away from his uncle's court for too many weeks, and he feels that he has almost forgotten the ways of civilization, out here in this lonely, elemental place, this raw breath of wilderness; he slips off his horse and kneels in prayer, using the words as a shield against the sky, but the prayer spins away on the wind, and he is as he was, alone on the earth.
Green
He dreams that night of a cavern green above and beneath, where everything his eye falls upon is green and dappled gold, like the inside of a leaf; closer to nature than he knew it was possible to be, he suddenly realizes that this trembling in his hands, this catch in his breath, this quiver in his heart, this is fear for his own sworn-away life (and in the morning, though the dream has gone, he keeps the leaf-green band against the fear he knows will come again).
Hot
It is the dead of winter, and by rights the world should be frozen, a barren sheet of ice, but here in this castle, the very idea of cold is laughable, for the lady's kisses are hot as summer and sweet as spring.