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[ OPEN ] ; Network: Chainsawd; Video; Story Time;
[ The video opens to Ronan, sitting in a high-backed chair. He makes a motion towards the camera, and the shot changes to an aerial view of what looks very much like a library, books to the rafters, vines and tree branches gently curling around shelf upon shelf. The light is dusty, but natural. Chainsawd swoops back down, settling once more in front of Ronan, filming him.
It's obvious he's not alone - there's a shoulder against his, and he's leaning against whoever is sitting next to him in what seems like obvious habit of sharing space. On his lap, Ronan has a large volume open, the pages yellowed and crinkly with age. He doesn't smile as he looks at the camera, but he looks sort of relaxed.
Without much introduction, Ronan looks down, and starts reading, his voice nuanced; he has the tone and rhythm of someone used to telling stories. ]
Now when Sarpedon saw his comrades, men who wore ungirdled tunics, being overcome by Patroclus, son of Menoetius, he rebuked the Lycians, saying, "Shame on you, where are you flying to? Show your mettle;
I will myself meet this man in fight and learn who it is that is so masterful; he has done us much hurt, and has stretched many a brave man upon the ground."
He sprang from his chariot as he spoke, and Patroclus, when he saw this, leaped on to the ground also. The two then rushed at one another with loud cries like eagle-beaked crook-taloned vultures that scream and tear at one another in some high mountain fastness.
The son of scheming Saturn looked down upon them in pity and said to Juno who was his wife and sister, "Alas, that it should be the lot of Sarpedon whom I love so dearly to perish by the hand of Patroclus. I am in two minds whether to catch him up out of the fight and set him down safe and sound in the fertile land of Lycia, or to let him now fall by the hand of the son of Menoetius."
[ He took his time, reading. It was a book he loved, after all - and he always wanted to give it the recognition it deserved. On screen, Adam's face was visible, now, as he leaned closer to read, too, his chin almost hooked on Ronan's shoulder. Sometimes, you could see him glance fondly at Ronan. ]
And Juno answered, "Most dread son of Saturn, what is this that you are saying? Would you snatch a mortal man, whose doom has long been fated, out of the jaws of death? Do as you will, but we shall not all of us be of your mind. I say further, and lay my saying to your heart, that if you send Sarpedon safely to his own home, some other of the gods will be also wanting to escort his son out of battle, for there are many sons of gods fighting round the city of Troy, and you will make every one jealous. If, however, you are fond of him and pity him, let him indeed fall by the hand of Patroclus, but as soon as the life is gone out of him, send Death and sweet Sleep to bear him off the field and take him to the broad lands of Lycia, where his brothers and his kinsmen will bury him with mound and pillar, in due honor to the dead."
The sire of gods and men assented, but he shed a rain of blood upon the earth in honor of his son whom Patroclus was about to kill on the rich plain of Troy far from his home.
[ Ronan finally looked up, an eyebrow raised at the camera. ]
Now, children, I know my dulcet tones have probably lulled you to sleep with this epic tale of heroism, but who can tell me - what's this book I'm reading from?
It's obvious he's not alone - there's a shoulder against his, and he's leaning against whoever is sitting next to him in what seems like obvious habit of sharing space. On his lap, Ronan has a large volume open, the pages yellowed and crinkly with age. He doesn't smile as he looks at the camera, but he looks sort of relaxed.
Without much introduction, Ronan looks down, and starts reading, his voice nuanced; he has the tone and rhythm of someone used to telling stories. ]
Now when Sarpedon saw his comrades, men who wore ungirdled tunics, being overcome by Patroclus, son of Menoetius, he rebuked the Lycians, saying, "Shame on you, where are you flying to? Show your mettle;
I will myself meet this man in fight and learn who it is that is so masterful; he has done us much hurt, and has stretched many a brave man upon the ground."
He sprang from his chariot as he spoke, and Patroclus, when he saw this, leaped on to the ground also. The two then rushed at one another with loud cries like eagle-beaked crook-taloned vultures that scream and tear at one another in some high mountain fastness.
The son of scheming Saturn looked down upon them in pity and said to Juno who was his wife and sister, "Alas, that it should be the lot of Sarpedon whom I love so dearly to perish by the hand of Patroclus. I am in two minds whether to catch him up out of the fight and set him down safe and sound in the fertile land of Lycia, or to let him now fall by the hand of the son of Menoetius."
[ He took his time, reading. It was a book he loved, after all - and he always wanted to give it the recognition it deserved. On screen, Adam's face was visible, now, as he leaned closer to read, too, his chin almost hooked on Ronan's shoulder. Sometimes, you could see him glance fondly at Ronan. ]
And Juno answered, "Most dread son of Saturn, what is this that you are saying? Would you snatch a mortal man, whose doom has long been fated, out of the jaws of death? Do as you will, but we shall not all of us be of your mind. I say further, and lay my saying to your heart, that if you send Sarpedon safely to his own home, some other of the gods will be also wanting to escort his son out of battle, for there are many sons of gods fighting round the city of Troy, and you will make every one jealous. If, however, you are fond of him and pity him, let him indeed fall by the hand of Patroclus, but as soon as the life is gone out of him, send Death and sweet Sleep to bear him off the field and take him to the broad lands of Lycia, where his brothers and his kinsmen will bury him with mound and pillar, in due honor to the dead."
The sire of gods and men assented, but he shed a rain of blood upon the earth in honor of his son whom Patroclus was about to kill on the rich plain of Troy far from his home.
[ Ronan finally looked up, an eyebrow raised at the camera. ]
Now, children, I know my dulcet tones have probably lulled you to sleep with this epic tale of heroism, but who can tell me - what's this book I'm reading from?
no subject
u still sound the fuckin same
panciky lil bitch without g to call heel
listne bitch im only gonna say it once
cuz ive had to say it 5 fuckin times 2 ur other multverse clones
im different
& ure somebody elses fuckin problem now
no subject
and you definitely sound super different, for sure
using the same insults, trying to rile me up like i give a flying fuck what you think of me, or gansey
newsflash, it didn't work back home, it still won't work here
i've never been your problem, dickhead
funny though, you talk like you want nothing with me
why did you even reply to this message
you're pretty fucking transparent, kavinsky
[ Back in the day, Ronan would have been agitated by now. itching for a fight, for a race. But aside from a bad feeling under his skin, he's completely calm, Kavinsky's badly spelled words bouncing right off of him. ]
no subject
im re plying 2 this message cuz we fucking neighbors again, lynch
multiverse keeps vomiting yo ass up out of nowhere liek i said & i never fuckin know which model im gonna get
whether im stuck in cuddle fuckin city or this post apocalypti cfairyland
now i kno
stuck in war wit a sullen bitch who learned all bout gay from the ancient greeks
worse ways 2 learn
no subject
no subject