{CLOSED, COMPLETE} The rain fell softly on your face

[chainsaw_juliet]

WHO: Opheli Grell Sutcliff {chainsaw_juliet } and Prince Hamlet {potentpoison }
WHAT: A gift from Fate's deathly Star; The Prince's future manifested in hard copy
WHERE: In a flower field outside the town
WHEN: Day 202 dusk

Comments

[potentpoison]

[ooc: OMG GRELL. YOU JUST MADE MY MORNING~! ♥ ]The prince was wary of this meeting, true

[chainsaw_juliet]

Grell did not answer at first, shouldering the scythe against his shoulder and bending to pluck a bright red poppy free from its stem before threading it through the Prince's buttonhole- just as he had when first they met

[potentpoison]

[ooc: No problem~! I hate stretching pages, too. Also, this log is making me squee. X3]

It took the Prince a lengthy while to speak,
His mind enraptured with the leather-bound
Volume upon whose pages his eyes danced.
But soon thereafter he looked up again,
And tentatively took Death's hand in his,
His other shielding his life from the rain.

"I thank you, for I know that this offense -
To show a mortal that which only suits
The eyes of gods - has cost much deeper than
My puerile mind can grasp." He kissed his hand.
"I am forever in your debt, even
As my immortal thread is in your hand.
I shall, I think, muster the strength to read -
Whatever thoughts or madness comes to me -
For ne'er would my heart or mind find peace
If never did my quest for answers cease."

[chainsaw_juliet]

"I am sure Fate can offer me a little discretion." Grell smiled, the mischief clear in his green eyes. For a moment as he looked up at the Prince, he seemed the spectre of love once more; a beauty so touching because of its fragility. Rosy red blushed his cheeks, the back of his hand burning as he contemplated what the Prince had just done. Slowly he pressed an ear to the man's chest, listening to the heart that beat so strong and yet so submissive to Fate

DX So late, so sorry! So dead from school.

[potentpoison]

It was the custom in the Prince's land
To draw one's sword when metal kissed one's skin,
But Death inspired more than just the will
To preserve one's life by crossing one's blades.
Ophelia he was not, and Hamlet knew,
For reason was now more his master than
The grief from knowing Fate's cruel, twisted plans,
And more the prince than he had been before,
He drew himself away from Grell's embrace,
Avoiding Reaper's blade with a deep bow.

"There is thy sting," he said with a small smile,
"And here thy peace so bound within a tome.
If yet I may I thank thee once more, Death,
And beg thee cry no more a tear for me,
For even here must I adhere to that
Which drove my soul to Hell in my own house."
He bent a final time to kiss his hand,
For courtesy, and nothing more than that.
"And 'til the stars decree that we next meet,
I pray that you will grace and fortune greet."

*squishes* 83

[chainsaw_juliet]

The Reaper regarded him with sad eyes despite the smile on his lips. Nodding, he stepped back and fell into a deep bow.
"In turn, I pray your heart finds the strength to persevere as your eyes devour your Fate written upon those pages."

"Perhaps, Fate's cruelty to you will here be turned to kindness now that you are no longer in Denmark. Perhaps here, you are given a blank tome, to write your own destiny and defy the stars."

Grell offered the Prince a final glance before turning heel and walking away. One step, another and then he had vanished into the shadows.