(no subject)

In a tavern in Fulkeston, Tristran gained great renown by reciting from memory Coleridge's "Kubla Khan," the Twenty-Third Psalm, the "Quality of Mercy" speech from The Merchant of Venice, and a poem about a boy who stood on the burning deck where all be he had fled, each of which he had been obliged to commit to memory in his school days. He blessed Mrs. Cherry for her efforts in making him memorize verse, until it became apparent that the townsfolk of Fulkeston had decided that he would stay with them forever and become the next bard of the town ...

-- Stardust, p.247-248

( Can I keep you? )

(no subject)

"... Tristran and Yvaine were forced to sneak out of the town at the dead of night, and they only escaped because Yvaine persuaded (by some means, on which Tristran was never entirely clear) the dogs of the town not to bark as they left."

-- Stardust, p.248

"We would so love to keep you, Master Tristran," she mocks - voice a high-pitched falsetto, eyelashes fluttering - as she stalks forward, looking altogether rather murderous. "Just one more, please? Oh, my you do look strong."

She feels rather smug with the ease in which she remains distinctly not torn to pieces of any kind, and grins at her walking companion for a brief moment.

"You will forgive me," she drawls down at the hunting dog following along at her side, its dark shoulders set high near to her hip. "If I cannot quell the urge to vomit."

The trip to the room they've provided for Tristran isn't all too far, though the walk itself does manage to reign in her temper considerably, leaving her satisfied enough to ruffle the dog's ears fondly before she slips through the (unlocked - bloody moron) door undetected.

She pauses then and her eyes roll indulgently at the fact that he's already passed out, shoes still on and covers forgotten, and she pads forward quietly.

"Tristran," she singsongs, leaning over his sleeping form - one hand braced above his shoulder and the other hovering lightly over his chest. "Time to go now, Tristran."