[TLV] IC Inbox

[palissant]

[No response can be gained via comms. He isn't interested in making himself available that way.

If you want him, come find him.]

Comments

[generosite]

[ As requested, she does mainly leave him alone. She notices the places he tends to but goes about her business. And when she does choose to reach out she says nothing. She just leaves a handwritten note at his elbow in the library and leaves again. The paper smells of rosemary.

She writes in a curious looping language with many intricate dots and accents, but it is translated clearly enough by the Barge's magic, ]

An obscure meadow lures me,
her fast, close-fitting lawns
revolve in me, sleep on my balcony.
They rule her beaches, her indefinite
alabaster dome re-creates itself.
On the waters of a mirror,
the voice cut short crossing a hundred paths,
my memory prepares surprise:
fallow dew in the sky, dew, sudden flash.
Without hearing I'm called:
I slowly enter the meadow,
proudly consumed in a new labyrinth.
Illustrious remains:
a hundred heads, bugles, a thousand shows
baring their sky, their silent sunflower.
Strange the surprise in that sky
where unwilling footfalls turn
and voices swell in its pregnant center.
An obscure meadow goes by.
Between the two, wind or thin paper,
the wind, the wounded wind of this death,
this magic death, one and dismissed.
A bird, another bird, no longer trembles.

--José Lezama Lima