WHO: Fitcher, Marcoulf, Bartimaeus (+) & YOU WHAT: Ye Olde Catch'all WHEN: Nowish WHERE: Kirkwall, The Gallows, le Misc. NOTES: Starters in comments; if you want something/someone who isn't here, just hit me up and I'll scrape something together.
"By all means. Recite away," she invites him, setting the pipe between her teeth. A few pulls encourage the weak ember burning in the bowl to swell, and for the tobacco to catch properly. "I'm a great fan of other people's passions."
And then he clears his throat, and recites. On every stressed iamb, he gently taps a finger, soundless, onto the wood of their table.
"A wreathèd garland of deservèd praise, Of praise deservèd, unto Thee I give, I give to Thee, who knowest all my ways, My crooked winding ways, wherein I live,— Wherein I die, not live ; for life is straight, Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee, To Thee, who art more far above deceit, Than deceit seems above simplicity. Give me simplicity, that I may live, So live and like, that I may know Thy ways, Know them and practice them: then shall I give For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise."
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It's charming.
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And then he clears his throat, and recites. On every stressed iamb, he gently taps a finger, soundless, onto the wood of their table.
"A wreathèd garland of deservèd praise,
Of praise deservèd, unto Thee I give,
I give to Thee, who knowest all my ways,
My crooked winding ways, wherein I live,—
Wherein I die, not live ; for life is straight,
Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee,
To Thee, who art more far above deceit,
Than deceit seems above simplicity.
Give me simplicity, that I may live,
So live and like, that I may know Thy ways,
Know them and practice them: then shall I give
For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise."