Do we? Perhaps it's because we take all words at face value.
[But he still laughs just a little, closing his eyes and batting back at Jehan with his head lightly.]
So, the poetry is open to interpretation, not only to the one reading it, but the one who wrote it. I should not care to lose these words any time soon, might I add. You must promise to replace them with something else when I must eventually rinse them away.
Ooohhh... [Jehan gave a playful cringe at that. There were few people he felt so comfortable with as to be sportive, but after what had happened especially, and its aftermath... this came with an ease he would not give up for anything.] At face value only... the price would be expensive, but the worth cheap. You lawyers use words like fishing-men use hooks; many, and crooked, and with damning purpose.
[He was, again, teasing... for the most part, anyway. Some lawyers were certainly of that make, yes. But Courfeyrac had a silver tongue, and a golden heart to accompany it. Thereby;] But I do not put you with such a make of man. I would say you use words more like a harpist; to a tune that's ever-delightful, often important, and yet floats away with such ease that sometimes one remembers the ditty better than the lyrics.
[That said, he peeked down at what he had written, admittedly a bit thrilled with the idea of his liking it so much as to make it a sort of game, or tradition. What a pretty notion...]
The words will be with you always; as ink sinks in, a little. Down to your very blood, therefore, it is written. [Well, he couldn't help being himself; sometimes his ideas were a little bit beyond the pale.] And the sentiment of them is yours, also, for as long as you'll keep it in your heart. But, if it is your wish, I may repeat it.
Written word, my love. Lawyers do not use such flower prose in written word.
[But he's smiling still, burying his face in Jehan's neck for a moment since he can. Since it's there, why not?]
The words will never leave me, for they've even become ingrained in my mind. The ink in my blood and words in my mind, I'll never lose them. [He smiles and presses a kiss to Jehan's neck, though the fabric in his way.]
I would not mind for you to repeat it whenever inspiration strikes. I would enjoy it more than anything.
They write in deeper riddles still! [He laughed lightly, perhaps tilting his head just so in order to provide him more room; for who did not enjoy attention to the neck, however debilitated by fabrics?] Poetry is easier to grasp the meaning of than a text of law; jouissance! I'd rather own the flower prose than the technical vocable.
[Tracing his fingers still against his arm, he could not help but give way to another smile, quite in his element, and cosy.] I will make a promise to you of another, then. I will never write those I give you anywhere elsewhere; they are yours.
[A beat, before, deciding to vex him playfully;] Really, there is nothing you would enjoy more? Then I have very little work to do, for you.
[Courfeyrac laughs as he continues with the attention, then, since there is more room provided.]
I'd rather you own the flower prose, I cannot imagine you any other way. It is why we fit so well, I believe.
[He was ready to respond to the promise when Jehan continued. Letting out a slightly exasperated sigh against his neck, he tried his best not to laugh.]
You knew what I meant, cher. Poor word choice on my behalf when you're clearly in such a teasing mood, I see.
I cannot bear to argue with anything you believe fits us.
[He assured, shifting in bits, enough to face him a little more properly, without entirely dislodging his current... efforts, so to speak.
Though, he did then have to bite back a laugh of his own as he assured impishly,]
You say lawyers have an exact nature, in their words. So, you have been exact with me. I have heard, and understood. I won't dream of putting you to bed without poetry to keep your affections warm; it is a wonder you have ever resorted to anyone besides a poet, if that is what makes your heart race and keeps you content.
[Well, you did really set yourself up for it, Reynaud. And as it wasn't so easy for Jehan to joke regarding the actual nature of what they were discussing without becoming a blundering mess; current company considered; it was much simpler to do it in this double-context.]
[If his goal was to exasperate, he's succeeded. He raises his eyebrows at Jehan, now that they're facing each other more properly. But, instead of walking into what was set up, he smiles slightly and nudges his nose against Jehan's cheek.]
You are what makes my heart race and what keeps me content. Not just your poetry.
[He does, however, colour a little at the correction, given rather sincerely rather than following in line with the joke. Batting his head down just a little, and picking up a hand to toy with one of the buttons of Courfeyrac's costume, he relented,]
Well... then I suppose I cannot abandon you with just letters at night. You are very sweet, even when I am being so prickly.
[Which earned a nudge in return and a contented slump.]
[He closed his eyes at that and made a little bit of a face. Not because what Courfeyrac said offended him in any sense; no, of course not; but because it was so sunny and kind that it was almost difficult to accept, without some form of deprecation. Jehan was not very used to a constancy of compliments, and was very timid of snapping them up so easily, without protest.]
I cannot continue; you've cut me off, I'm afraid. You're impossibly... [Generous? Gentle? Good?] ...impossible.
[He decided, leaning into him, and returning the kiss to his cheek.]
You are amiable enough to make even an Aztec funeral mask smile, and I feel sure you could turn a pebble into a seed and have it blossom, if you spoke kindly to it for long enough.
And now you've the upper hand. Indeed, such is your effect.
[It's sometimes a miracle of all the saints that he is able to still think after something Courfeyrac has said, much less to speak.]
I get a little joy out of feeding it, if I am honest. Too large and it may knock me over; but pleasantly kept, and I have no trouble in coddling it. Please forgive me that.
[He didn't see himself running out of praises any time soon.]
[He gave back at the comparison, still predictably a shade of pink from the aforementioned actions. He did finally go to return those kisses, though less in number; one to his chin and the other to the corner of his mouth.]
I feel as if it is lucky we are among the stars... on earth, surely one god or another would be jealous over my having so much.
[He sincerely felt that way; over-fortunate, in having such a person love him in return.]
[Well, since he had the rare occasion of having his eyes open while Courfeyrac had his closed...
He took the opportunity to press a butterfly kiss to each lid, and smile softly.]
No one could punish you on that count, surely, God or man. I believe; and will hold no argument against; that I am the luckier of we two. It is a pretty thing, to be so enamored. And while I am prone to it, you... that is. Never quite to this extent.
[Admitted, softly, before--]
Ah. Do you know what 'Roman de la poire's' design is, cher?
[He flicked his gaze to the side at him when he agreed that it had never been to this extent for himself either, then smiled.]
Roman de la poire is medieval French romantic narration. The manuscript is by Thibaut, and uses mainly allegory to describe love, in large part from the lover's own perspective-- revolutionary, at the time.
In it, a woman gives a fruit she has peeled with her teeth to her lover. The man, in reply, gives her something too.
[Shifting, he picked up both hands, and used his two pointer fingers and two thumbs to form a heart, then peeked back again at him with another little smile.]
An illustration shows him to offer his heart, in this shape. It is the first time in recorded literary history that the heart was used as a metaphor for love, or that this shape; which you recognize, no?; was the associated design for the human heart in love.
[Courfeyrac listened with unwavering attention, nodding as Jehan explained what it was. He maneuvered his arms around him to copy the way he held his hands.]
So that is the reason for the simplified heart drawing to represent love? It was created that long ago?
[He took the chance to nuzzle his nose into Jehan's cheek.]
[Unhinging his own fingers after Courfeyrac had the shape, he went to trace the version he had made with two fingers, smile re-alighting at the prod of a nose against his cheek.]
It is, and it was. Of course, it would be a French invention; it seems we grow a culture of the best and worst things in humanity. But this, surely, is one of the best.
[Still tracing his fingers, he settled in on the bed finally, kicking off his shoes as nimbly as he could manage before getting onto the mattress properly to join him.]
It's true of most men too, isn't it? Great, balancing with terrible. Yet I think...
[He tapped his fingers again before letting his hands fall back lightly against his own lap.]
...That when one feels like this, the flaws seem few, and are designed so that they only add to the greatness.
[He would cease with this now, really. But he was very grateful that Courfeyrac, and what feelings he did have for the man, kept him from becoming as bleak as he felt he may have upon returning.]
[He glanced up, nearly going a bit cross-eyed, to try to stare at Courfeyrac after his statement... then kept from shaking his head, if only not to knock his chin, which was pleasantly placed.]
Fair, absolutely. But I don't think it makes so much sense as all that. There must be something to it beyond our understanding, no? There must be something more to it-- but what, I scarcely know. I don't think I would want to. Life is sometimes better being mysterious, don't you think?
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 02:49 am (UTC)[But he still laughs just a little, closing his eyes and batting back at Jehan with his head lightly.]
So, the poetry is open to interpretation, not only to the one reading it, but the one who wrote it. I should not care to lose these words any time soon, might I add. You must promise to replace them with something else when I must eventually rinse them away.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 03:03 am (UTC)[He was, again, teasing... for the most part, anyway. Some lawyers were certainly of that make, yes. But Courfeyrac had a silver tongue, and a golden heart to accompany it. Thereby;] But I do not put you with such a make of man. I would say you use words more like a harpist; to a tune that's ever-delightful, often important, and yet floats away with such ease that sometimes one remembers the ditty better than the lyrics.
[That said, he peeked down at what he had written, admittedly a bit thrilled with the idea of his liking it so much as to make it a sort of game, or tradition. What a pretty notion...]
The words will be with you always; as ink sinks in, a little. Down to your very blood, therefore, it is written. [Well, he couldn't help being himself; sometimes his ideas were a little bit beyond the pale.] And the sentiment of them is yours, also, for as long as you'll keep it in your heart. But, if it is your wish, I may repeat it.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 03:17 pm (UTC)[But he's smiling still, burying his face in Jehan's neck for a moment since he can. Since it's there, why not?]
The words will never leave me, for they've even become ingrained in my mind. The ink in my blood and words in my mind, I'll never lose them. [He smiles and presses a kiss to Jehan's neck, though the fabric in his way.]
I would not mind for you to repeat it whenever inspiration strikes. I would enjoy it more than anything.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 04:12 pm (UTC)[Tracing his fingers still against his arm, he could not help but give way to another smile, quite in his element, and cosy.] I will make a promise to you of another, then. I will never write those I give you anywhere elsewhere; they are yours.
[A beat, before, deciding to vex him playfully;] Really, there is nothing you would enjoy more? Then I have very little work to do, for you.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 04:31 pm (UTC)I'd rather you own the flower prose, I cannot imagine you any other way. It is why we fit so well, I believe.
[He was ready to respond to the promise when Jehan continued. Letting out a slightly exasperated sigh against his neck, he tried his best not to laugh.]
You knew what I meant, cher. Poor word choice on my behalf when you're clearly in such a teasing mood, I see.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 04:44 pm (UTC)[He assured, shifting in bits, enough to face him a little more properly, without entirely dislodging his current... efforts, so to speak.
Though, he did then have to bite back a laugh of his own as he assured impishly,]
You say lawyers have an exact nature, in their words. So, you have been exact with me. I have heard, and understood. I won't dream of putting you to bed without poetry to keep your affections warm; it is a wonder you have ever resorted to anyone besides a poet, if that is what makes your heart race and keeps you content.
[Well, you did really set yourself up for it, Reynaud. And as it wasn't so easy for Jehan to joke regarding the actual nature of what they were discussing without becoming a blundering mess; current company considered; it was much simpler to do it in this double-context.]
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 04:55 pm (UTC)[If his goal was to exasperate, he's succeeded. He raises his eyebrows at Jehan, now that they're facing each other more properly. But, instead of walking into what was set up, he smiles slightly and nudges his nose against Jehan's cheek.]
You are what makes my heart race and what keeps me content. Not just your poetry.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 05:01 pm (UTC)[He does, however, colour a little at the correction, given rather sincerely rather than following in line with the joke. Batting his head down just a little, and picking up a hand to toy with one of the buttons of Courfeyrac's costume, he relented,]
Well... then I suppose I cannot abandon you with just letters at night. You are very sweet, even when I am being so prickly.
[Which earned a nudge in return and a contented slump.]
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 05:15 pm (UTC)I'm sorry... But every response that was on the tip of my tongue was just as sweet. I was unable to speak anything but the truth.
[He presses a kiss to Jehan's brow and laughs a bit.]
You may continue to be prickly, if you want.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 05:32 pm (UTC)I cannot continue; you've cut me off, I'm afraid. You're impossibly... [Generous? Gentle? Good?] ...impossible.
[He decided, leaning into him, and returning the kiss to his cheek.]
You are amiable enough to make even an Aztec funeral mask smile, and I feel sure you could turn a pebble into a seed and have it blossom, if you spoke kindly to it for long enough.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 05:46 pm (UTC)[He cannot help but jest back at him.]
You say such things, I can gladly test those theories of yours... But I'm afraid you are all but feeding my already too large ego.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 05:54 pm (UTC)[It's sometimes a miracle of all the saints that he is able to still think after something Courfeyrac has said, much less to speak.]
I get a little joy out of feeding it, if I am honest. Too large and it may knock me over; but pleasantly kept, and I have no trouble in coddling it. Please forgive me that.
[He didn't see himself running out of praises any time soon.]
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 06:40 pm (UTC)[Pressing kisses along his brow softly, he chuckles.]
Though, since I am not nearly as good with words, I'll be content to returning the favor with actions.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 06:46 pm (UTC)[He gave back at the comparison, still predictably a shade of pink from the aforementioned actions. He did finally go to return those kisses, though less in number; one to his chin and the other to the corner of his mouth.]
I feel as if it is lucky we are among the stars... on earth, surely one god or another would be jealous over my having so much.
[He sincerely felt that way; over-fortunate, in having such a person love him in return.]
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 06:51 pm (UTC)[Closing his eyes at those kisses, he smiled a little more.]
How lucky we are, yes... I would hate to tempt any higher being into punishing us for being so lucky to have found each other as we have.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 06:55 pm (UTC)He took the opportunity to press a butterfly kiss to each lid, and smile softly.]
No one could punish you on that count, surely, God or man. I believe; and will hold no argument against; that I am the luckier of we two. It is a pretty thing, to be so enamored. And while I am prone to it, you... that is. Never quite to this extent.
[Admitted, softly, before--]
Ah. Do you know what 'Roman de la poire's' design is, cher?
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 07:12 pm (UTC)Never quite to this extent. Yes. But I do believe we are both the lucky ones.
[At the following question, he opens his eyes and looks at him questioningly, shaking his head.]
I can't say that I am familiar with it, no.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-23 10:22 pm (UTC)Roman de la poire is medieval French romantic narration. The manuscript is by Thibaut, and uses mainly allegory to describe love, in large part from the lover's own perspective-- revolutionary, at the time.
In it, a woman gives a fruit she has peeled with her teeth to her lover. The man, in reply, gives her something too.
[Shifting, he picked up both hands, and used his two pointer fingers and two thumbs to form a heart, then peeked back again at him with another little smile.]
An illustration shows him to offer his heart, in this shape. It is the first time in recorded literary history that the heart was used as a metaphor for love, or that this shape; which you recognize, no?; was the associated design for the human heart in love.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 12:24 am (UTC)So that is the reason for the simplified heart drawing to represent love? It was created that long ago?
[He took the chance to nuzzle his nose into Jehan's cheek.]
no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 12:35 am (UTC)It is, and it was. Of course, it would be a French invention; it seems we grow a culture of the best and worst things in humanity. But this, surely, is one of the best.
[Still tracing his fingers, he settled in on the bed finally, kicking off his shoes as nimbly as he could manage before getting onto the mattress properly to join him.]
no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 04:01 pm (UTC)As Jehan shifted and settled himself in the bed, Courfeyrac moved so he could easier join him.]
Yes, I would be mad to disagree with that. It is only fair to the other cultures that ours balance out our best with some terrible...
no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 04:36 pm (UTC)[He tapped his fingers again before letting his hands fall back lightly against his own lap.]
...That when one feels like this, the flaws seem few, and are designed so that they only add to the greatness.
[He would cease with this now, really. But he was very grateful that Courfeyrac, and what feelings he did have for the man, kept him from becoming as bleak as he felt he may have upon returning.]
no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 05:29 pm (UTC)That's only fair, isn't it? If the flaws weren't so flattering, it would be impossible to get along so well.
[At least, that makes sense in his head.]
no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 07:24 pm (UTC)Fair, absolutely. But I don't think it makes so much sense as all that. There must be something to it beyond our understanding, no? There must be something more to it-- but what, I scarcely know. I don't think I would want to. Life is sometimes better being mysterious, don't you think?