#me frantic to avoid thee and flee
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Twisted Tonelico (An Ar Tonelico x Twisted Wonderland AU) Book 01, part 2
Phase 01- Part 01, Part 03, Part 04, Part 05, Interlude
Phase 01: Book 01: Dia rosa rudje
Previously: Adding insult to injury, Grim laughs at Ace’s retreat. “Look at you. Cowering away like a baby all because a girl one upped ya! Ha ha!!”
Ace growled, his annoyance and anger bubbling over. “SHUT UP!” He flicked his pen causing a wind spell to fly to Grim. It almost hit its mark if Grim hadn’t avoided it at the last second. “Stupid cat!”
Grim snarled at the red head. “I’m not a cat!” And blasted fire back in retaliation.
And so began their fight.
~Twisted Tonelico~
Ace and Grim casted their spells at one another, dodging each attack as well. Despite the protests of both Deuce and Meryu, these two weren’t stopping anytime soon. Worse off, it was gaining more attention from other students as well wanting to see them fight.
If this keeps up, they’re gonna break or destroy something! Meryu panicked. She frantically tried to figure out how to stop Ace and Grim’s fight. Looking at the young man that accompanied the red head troublemaker, Meryu ran towards him (and dodged some fire balls and wind balls) hoping to get his attention. “Excuse me!” She called out.
Deuce, sensing her presence, turned to the panicked girl. “Y-yes?”
“You know magic, right?” she asked.
“I do!”
“Do you know a spell that can stop them?”
Deuce quickly thought about one, and quickly pulled out his pen. “Stand back, ok Ms?”
Meryu did as he asked and went back behind him.
“I CALL UPON THEE, CAULDRON!!!” A huge Cauldron fell from the sky, falling towards the fighting duo.
Ace and Grim were still so busy fighting, that they failed to notice too late the Cauldron’s descent. As they casted their spells once more, the giant pot hit the ground causing the duo’s spells to ricochet away from their targets…
With both wind and fire magic leaving burn marks on the statue of the Queen of Hearts.
Deuce and Meryu gasped at the sight. "THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!/ OH NO!!" They shouted in unison.
The other duo’s jaws dropped, freaking out that one of the statues was ruined.
“Aw shit! Look what you did, you dumb cat!” Ace shouted.
Grim retaliated. “ME?! YOU STARTED IT! I WAS DEFENDING MYSELF!”
“YOU-”
“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?!” A new voice cut through the crowd and the quartet froze in fear of who that was.
The Headmage walked through the crowd of students slowly dissipating and fleeing to class at the sight of his presence. He paused in his walk, taking the horrifying sight before him! “What have you done…” his voice was a whisper, before shouting at the four people in front of him. “WHO’S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?!”
~In the evening: Dwarf Land Forest~
“I can’t believe this… I tried so hard.”
“There, there.” Meryu tried comforting Deuce as they made their way to the abandoned mines. Her eyes were downcast as she reflected back on the incident with the Dire.
~Flashback~
“YOU FOUR, FOR CAUSING PROPERTY DAMAGE, ARE EXPELLED!!”
“WHAT?!/ EH?!”
“Sir, wait! Let us explain-”
“SILENCE!!” The four suspects in question ceased. “You four started a fight on school property one the first day, and you’ve damaged one of the statue’s of the Great Seven in the process.” Crowley reprimanded.
After the events of Ace and Grim’s fight, the Headmage had called them plus Deuce and Meryu to his office. The feathers on his coat were ruffled from what he had witnessed. Their actions today were something he could not overlook.
Despite their pleas, Crowley would not change his mind about expelling them all. When Deuce pleaded about something they could do to make up for the incident, the Dire was about to dismiss them again, until he came up with a ‘task’ for them to repent for their actions, and maybe he would revoke their expulsion (and MAYBE give Grim a chance to enroll).
~End of Flashback~
And so here they were, out in the Dwarf Woodlands, a forest area far from the main campus that is… mostly abandoned. This forest used to thrive with life; countless mines that used to be filled with majestic Crystals and Magestones. Nowadays, they are vacant due to the mines all dried up of these gems. Abandoned by all except for supposed monsters and ghosts.
If they can find at least one to make up for the trouble they cause, Crowley might change his mind. Something all four of them are hoping for before morning arrives.
The forest is near pitchblack it makes seeing in the dark almost impossible. Luckily, Ace knew a simple flame spell to light their path, and Grim’s fiery ears also provided a secondary source of light. The quartet walked further until they stumbled across a small opening where some moonlight showed through the trees. Within the opening, appears a small home.
“Feels like something could pop out,” Grim cried.
Meryu, holding said feline, gave him a slight squeeze. “There, there. Nothing is going to scare us.”
The ace of hearts rolled his eyes at them. “C’mon. Let’s see if anyone’s here.” Heading to the house by the mines, he goes to open the door and peek inside. Deuce, Grim and Meryu following behind.
What greeted them was silence. The house was a vacant, but messy place. Cobwebs all over the place from the chair legs to the ceiling. So many layers of dust on every household item, no signs of personal belongings.
It was completely empty…
“One, two, seven- So many!” Ace exclaimed ,counting the amount of chairs in the main dining room.
“This must’ve been a home to the dwarves that lived close to the mines.” Deuce explained.
The Reyvateil gulped. “I wonder what became of them? Did they leave after the mines stopped working?”
“Probably.”
With no sign of anyone home, the group left the house and walked further into the woods. Not too far from where they were, the very mine they were looking for was up ahead. The entrance was total pitchblack, it was difficult to see if there was any sign of magestones or, if they were unlucky, any monsters.
The lone girl shivered at the cold breeze coming from the opening. Wish I had a jacket. Or a good fire spell…’ Her shivering caught the trio’s attention.
“Um, Melenas-san?” Meryu turned to the Spade. “Are you ok?”
“I-I’m f-ff-fine…” she replied, hoping to brush off their concerns.
Ace stayed quiet for a few moments before doffing his school jacket and covering Meryu by her shoulders. This surprised the woman for a moment, and before she asked, he cut her off. “Look. I don't want you getting all sick on us. Last thing I- we want is for you to be honest.”
Ace marched on ahead, trying to cool off his reddened face. The others followed after, with Meryu hiding a small smile within Grim’s fur.
~The Dwarf Mines~
The inside of the mines, contrary to what they saw outside, strangely still had sprinkles of light all throughout parts of the main path. Thanks to the lighting, what laid before them was a roller coaster of a near maze-like cavern. Mine carts were either left on broken tracks or strewn across the ground in broken pieces. Splintered, wooden support beams decorated the walls. Their withered structures are still durable even after years of being neglected. Pieces of faded geodes-none were magestones sadly- stuck out from the walls.
However, they knew that they couldn't cover the whole mine just to find ONE working, usable magestone. For the sake of not losing time and getting lost altogether, the students and their plus one stuck together.
Since searching for the stone was one their minds, Meryu thought to ask them a question. “So… this Magestone we’re looking for. Is it super special?”
Ace, wanting to be ‘nice for once’ answered her. “All mages use Magestones. It’s to help us cast our magic without going to overboard. At least that’s how my grandma nags me about it.”
She “Ahh’d” at his answer. “They sound quite different from Hymn Crystals.”
“Hymn-a what?” Grim said.
“Hymn Crystals. They usually are made by people like me. Sort of. They’re sort of like your Magestones, but instead of a wand- or pen in this case- they are downloaded inside of us.”
Suddenly the heart and spade duo halted their pace and stared at the girl. The boys stared at her like she said something insane. “Down…loaded inside of...?”
Before she could answer any further, the students heard a voice.
“On’t…ive…wou”
“Wh-what was that?!”
“St…one…ssss…mine”
“I-I think it’s getting closer…” Deuce said worryingly.
Slowly, out of the shadows of the many mine shaft paths, came a huge, grotesque monster.
The beast itself oozed a black, ink-like sludge wearing a worn and torn red tunic. Its head the shape of a round glass bottle filled with the same ooze. One arm was decrepit and holding a lantern; the other… was a whole pickaxe from the elbow down! As it grew closer, it bellowed out through the cavern.
“STONE………IS MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!”
~Phase 01: Book 01: Dia rosa rudje- tes biron~
A/N: No Hymmnos translations this time, but I did borrow some lines of dialouge from Shel_BB's Eng Sub translation of the Prologue chapter for the Mine scene. And yes, I also cut out the ghost chase sequence to save on time and my sanity! (:
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"Carrion Comfort"
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
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Carrion Comfort
BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
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A poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Carrion Comfort
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
(1844–1889)
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Carrion Comfort - Gerard Manley Hopkins
#poem#poetry#carrion comfort#god#god is dead#atheism#antitheism#i wretch lay wrestling with my God#why wouldst thou rude on my thy wring-world right foot rock?#not choose not to be#hope#night#me frantic to avoid thee and flee#depression#anxiety#agnosticism#creator#redeemer
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Carrion Comfort
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–1889)
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Carrion Comfort
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
#this is in many ways actually quite a simple poem‚ in terms of the sense of it‚ despite all the grammatical contortion#and i'm not sure the sonic play actually serves it?#but the movement from 'not' to 'god' that hinges on that question of 'why?' which is also an answer—#and the chiastic entwinement of the divine 'hero' and 'me' that becomes an equation—#'o which one? is it each one?'#and that last astonished acceptance of '(my god!) my god.'#those really are good moves.#plus of course the lionlimb.#good stuff‚ gerard.#poetry#gerard manley hopkins
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Carrion Comfort
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me or, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, cheer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, foot trod
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Carrion Comfort
BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
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Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
#✦│ little voices left to rot & plot. — ❪ emathenan bellanathe / musings. ❫#for those who cant read gerards stupid ass prose#this is a poem abt choosing not to give into despair despite the fact that it would be a kind of carrion comfort#to just let despair 'feast on thee'; choosing not to give up; choosing to 'not choose not to be' / choosing 2 not die#but at the same time wresting against and struggling with the thought that the speaker's (supposedly loving!) god would cause#all this harm 2 them in the first place; would give the speaker such reason 2 despair in the first place#'im proud of my strength but who should i thank for it? me for surviving? you (god) for trying to kill me and making me strong?#and regardless im now left wrestling with (my god!) my god and what it means that my god would do this to me'#anyway its a big fucking emathenan mood cos she loves the maker and the elven pantheon so much#but. shes suffering so greatly#esp post trespasser this is the kinda shit she feels and thinks abt constantly#maker how could you do this? ive been good. why would you hurt me?#anyway i love this poem
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Carrion Comfort
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
— Gerard Manley Hopkins
#poetry#english lit#lit#ros takes kirillov out for coffee#this poem was very important to me in high school and it continues to echo at the back of my mind sometimes#ask to tag#gerard manley hopkins
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“Carrion Comfort”
Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins
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