Ryqo's Poetry Corner

[Ryqoshay]

   A young woman walks towards center stage. Her cheerful gait causes her ebony twin ponytails to sway back and forth across the back of her white and purple school uniform. Upon arrival, she taps the microphone in front of her before flinching and stumbling back a bit as the shrill squeal of feedback fills the room.

   "Kyaaa..." she cries, causing more cacophony. Opening her cendrée eyes, she notices the signal that the proper adjustments have been made. A toothy smile crosses her face and she steps forward and moves the microphone to suit her short stature.

   "C'n ya hear me now?" she quips, as she scans the crowd and sees several affermations. "Good." She says with a nod. Opening her arms wide, she begins, "Good evening! Konbanwa! Bonsoir! Aloha ahiahi! Buenas noches! Guten Abend! Wǎnān! Mel'pal'voyenu! Bonum vesperum! Dobryj večer! Noswaith dda! Jó estét..." She trails off as she notices a growing number of confused expressions. After a brief silence, she clears her throat.

   "The Fifth Son's Tavern proudly welcomes ya all to the Executor's Lounge. Do be sure ta examine our extensive menu an' inquire 'bout the specials from yer server. I am Rebecca Bouteillevoix, better known as Ryqoshay, and I'll be yer host for t'night's en'ertainment." She pauses for some applause, the most enthusiastic of which, coming from her father.

   "Our first guest, many a' you may already be familiar with. For those who do not know her, no, she is not my younger sister, nor is she my doppelganger, she jus' 'appens ta look a lot like me. It is sheer coincidence, I assure you." A quick glance at her father earns a defensive gesture from him and a few scattered chuckles from the audience.

   "So, withou' further ado," she holds her arm out in the direction of the approaching guest, "I give you Anita Scythryn Zainthrony!"

   The girl sauntering over to the microphone could most certainly pass as a sibling of the host. Her hair is practically an identical shade, though it is loose and down save for a small tie-off high on her left. The differences continue with her eyes, as only one is grey while the other is dark enough to be considered black. Though white is still the primary color of choice in her wardrobe, she wears priestly robes trimmed in gold and yellow. And while the aura she extrudes is equally playful and energetic, there is a darker, more feral feel to it. The cuteness of the stuffed panda in her arms is counteracted by the ominous presence of the ornately runed scythe on her back.

   "Hi~~!" She waves childishly at the crowd before realizing she has to lower the microphone further. "I wrote a poem! I hope you all like it!" She pulls a crumpled sheet of paper out of her robe and tries vainly for a moment to smooth it out. "I call it 'To Build A Bridge'"

"Bury one deep at the foot of your bridge
And it will never fall
But be ever warned, for you it awaits
The grimmest fate of all

"For under the bridge there shall lurk a troll
With large and toothy maw
And it shall seek out all those who have killed
And rend them with its claws

"And hung upside down, your corpse on display
For all the world to see
A mason's secret, slayer of children
For no one heard their plea

"The bridge will remain steadfast and sturdy
And weather will not wear
With child below and builder above
Make quite the lovely pair"

   Silence.

   Ryqoshay walks quickly back to center stage and takes the mic. "Ah ha ha hah... Th-thank you, Anita. That was... uhm... lovely..."

   "Hee~! Thankies! I have more!" Anita replies, pulling out more paper.

   "I'm sure you do, I'm sure you do..." the slightly taller girl maneuvers herself to be fully in front of the stand, blocking the other. "Le's... give someone else a turn, shall we?"

   "Awuuu..." Dejected, the shorter girl trudges off stage.

[Ryqoshay]

   "A~nyway..." the emcee begins after the first guest has exited the stage. "Movin' on, our next guest is one a' my favoritest peoples in the world." She bounces up on her toes in excitement as she speaks. "She's one a' the elite warriors of the guild an' even killed a white dragon just ta make me these pretty hair clips outta its crest." She turns her head to show off the accessories.

   "For the record, it was only a welp." A crimson-haired woman strides across the stage. The armor she wears has been dyed a similar red, leaving it up to the imagination how much blood may or may not be left on it. The pair of longswords strapped to her back and the multitude of daggers sheathed along her waist only add to the visuals. With the armor hiding her figure, one may almost be forgiven for assuming she is a younger man, had the host not used particular pronouns to designate her gender. "And the clips were an afterthought because I was actually hired to stop the beast from harassing a town."

   "I know, I know..." the girl sighs as her exaggerations are revealed. "In any case, allow me to present the lovely Vivian Sexton, formally known as the Lady Sanguine, an' now better known as Valkyrie! Wha'cha gonna read for us?" She asks just before relinquishing the mic.

   "The piece I have prepared for tonight is entitled..." Valkyrie's face contorts slightly for a moment before she resumes. Those paying close attention may notice her voice has become just a little deeper. "'The Reaper and the Men.'"

"There is a Reaper, whose name is Sang,
   And with her swords so keen,
She reaps the bearded men at their pain,
   And all that stand between.

"'Shall I have naught that is fair?' Saith she;
   'Having naught but killed all the men?
'Cause the blood of them smells sweet to me,
   I cut and cut again.'

"'I have need of their blood to flow free,'
   The Reaper said and smiled
'Dear droplets of their life force it be.'
   She giggled like a child.

"'Their bodies shall rot in graves and holes,
   Transplanted by my care,
Where demons do battle for their souls
   Because they cannot share.'

"All the mothers cried tears of sorrow;
   Their sons had been taken.
But all life is fleeting and borrowed;
   Forever forsaken.

"Forsooth in cruelty, and in wrath,
   The Reaper came that day,
'Twas an angel borne of the red earth
   Who took the men away."

   Silence.

   A young man and woman in the audience glance at one another. From the title, they had both assumed the poem was going to be about him. After a moment, he shrugs and she responds with a curt nod before they both return their attentions to the stage.

   "Mohhh... why did *she* have to take over..." Ryqo complains, making her way quickly back to the microphone. "And that wa'n't even original, I know I've heard it somewhere before..."

   Valkyrie's face contorts again and she turns her head as though to alleviate a crick in her neck. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

   "Don' worry 'bout it." The younger woman dismisses casually, despite her prior perturbation. "Did you have something you wanted to read?"

   "I do, in fact."

   "Very well, carry on."

[Ryqoshay]

   "No fair!" Anita cries, suddenly appearing out of the æther beside Valkyrie. "Why does she get two turns in a row?"

   "Well, I..." the red-haired warrior begins.

   "My turn! My turn! My turn!" the girl shoves the barbarian aside. "All you boozers are going to like this one! I call it 'Three Quarts!'"

"Three quarts of ale, three pints of gin
Will help you to forget again
All worries and cares
And everyday wares
The numbness calls, so just give in

"Three quarts of ale, three pints of rum
A potent mix that's most welcome
When life gets too tough
And you've had enough
Drink up! Drink up! 'till you are numb

"Three quarts of ale, three pints whiskey
Drink it down and you will see
The world off kilter
Through boozy filter
The numbness is always the key

"Three quarts water, three pints and more
Lest you wake with your head sore
The numbness shall wane
Leaving behind pain
Until it's time to drink once more"

   Finally, applause. Mugs are lifted, shot glasses are emptied. The girl was right, the audience did indeed enjoy her poem, though it may have more to do with the subject matter than the poem itself, but she doesn't care. She takes a bow.

[Ryqoshay]

   "Well, I suppose that was pretty good..." Ryqo admits, "but it's still Valkyrie's turn."

   "I know, I know, I know!" Anita retorts before huffing indignantly and crossing her arms. "Ok, I'm done, it's all yours, do your little story." As quickly as she had appeared earlier, she disappears, meaning she had already teleported before and her illusionary double had actually spoken.

   The emcee sighs and her shoulders slump for a moment before she recovers. "Well, I guess the stage is yours." She holds out a hand to the waiting warrior.

   "Thank you, Mistress." Valkyrie replies with a nod and steps back to the mic. She clears her throat and begins,

"Blessed are the blades and bows
That fight for the girl known as Ryqo
Her Roughnecks serve with pride and passion
Especially her guard assassin

"Blessed are the spells and magicks
That keep our missions more dramatic
And the healers that keep us alive
To ensure our guild will always thrive

"Blessed are the Roughnecks, we
Who fight for more than just money
For we are brothers, sisters, all
And together we stand tall"

   A brief pause before generous applause. Many members of the audience stand and cheer while one young ninja sheepishly shrinks into her chair. Of course, the loudest ovation came from the girl's father.

   For her part, Ryqoshay pretends to wipe a tear from her eye and giggles. "That was amazing, Val, made me wanna cry. Absolutely lovely! A gem! I loved it! Can I have a copy?" Anyone surprised by the gushing praise would be unfamiliar with the spoiled guild leader's reputation.

   "Thank you, Mistress." The barbarian woman says yet again before turning and taking her leave.

   "So, who's next?"

[Ryqoshay]

   "Oooo! Ooooo!" Anita raises her hand excitedly as she bounces on the edge of her seat.

   Ryqo raises an eyebrow. "You've been up twice al..."

   "Not me! Envy!"

   "Envy has a poem?"

   "Uh-huh!"

   "Dare I ask the subject?"

   "He calls it 'Conan's  Lament.'"

   "Hrm..." the emcee thinks for a moment. So far the night has included such topics as the archaic myth of burying children beneath bridges, reaping men like flowers and excessive drinking. What harm could one brain in a jar do at this point? "Fine, c'mon up."

   Electricity arcs through the fluid between the disembodied brain and its container as the entire horrific creation levitates up from Anita's arms. It floats listlessly over the audience to take its place at the microphone.

   "Why is he here?" Valkyrie asks Ryqo as they both walk off the stage. "Aren't we supposed to be separated by centuries? Either he shouldn't have been created yet or you and I should be long..."

   "You worry too much, Val." The girl replys with a shrug. "This is all outside a' continuity. Nothin' we do here matters. 'Sides, you don' think clothes like these exist in our normal timeline, do ya?" She twirls to show off her outfit.

   "Well, no..."

   "C'mon, get with the program. Lose that armor of yours and find something more modern!" She urges. "It's not every day we get to do something like this. Gimme something good to describe to our readers."

   "But I like my armor..."

   "Suit yerself." Finally, she turns back to towards the next reader. "I think he's about to start."

   A voice enters the consciousness of the audience. No audible sound is issued forth as the undead creature lacks any means to create it. Instead, its psychic powers broadcast its thoughts directly into the minds of everyone present. The 'mind voice,' as Anita is fond of calling it, fluctuates in tone, volume and intensity making it difficult to identify a gender and leaves one questioning the sanity of its owner.

"The song plays and she starts to fall apart
But you can't blame it for breaking her heart
No, that fault is mine
She sits on her stool, listening to the song
She tells her lies like she's done for so long
She's not really fine

"By the second verse
Thought I heard her curse
Can't lie anymore
She heads for the door

"But when the bridge hit you could see her crack
She killed the jukebox with a mighty whack
It put up no fight
She stood there a moment, holding back tears
But soon she broke down, gave into her fears
Ran into the night

"Wish I could have been
Right there for here then
It's not meant to be
She can't see me

"I want to tell her...

"Girl don't you fret and don't you fear
The one you love's already here
I'm never out of sight
I'll always solve your plight
So don't you shed a single tear

"I'm with her every night and every day
May as well be a million miles away
Feels as such to me
I think she suspects, she knows me too well
She doesn't let on, so it's hard to tell
What her thoughts may be

"It pains me to see
Her break 'cause of me
I do what I can
Because I'm her man

"I call her often to tell her I'm fine
Her voice trembles on her end of the line
Both know it's not true
If she knew the truth, she'd be in danger
She'd be better off if we were strangers
So what can I do?

"I can't let her see
Who I am is me
She wouldn't believe
How could she believe?

"And so I must still live this lie
I bite my tongue and watch her cry
I want to go back
But the method I lack
Regret will last until I die

"I want to tell her...

"Girl don't you fret and don't you fear
The one you love's already here
I'm never out of sight
I'll always solve your plight
So don't you shed a single tear

"I want to tell her..."

   Silence. A few soft sniffles can be heard before a quite and hesitant, though respectful applause begins.

   Ryqoshay reaches to wipe a tear from her eye. This time, she does not need to fake it. Who knew that a such a sappy romantic lay under Envy's usual insanity?

   "Turn off the bubble machine'a... Please turn off the bubble'a." the mind voice starts. And just like that, everything returns to normal, if such a term could be applied to anyone or anything in the whole of Lillyville. "Thank you Envy for that lovely number! Wun'erful'a wun'erful'a! And now on..."

   "Ok, Envy," the emcee arrives and places her hands on the ornate décor surrounding the jar so she can gently maneuver it away "let's move on to the next guest, shall we?"

   "The bubbles don't come 'till the end of the program'a."

   "Yes, yes, we'll make sure the bubbles come at the right time."

   "I can't see the cameras."

   "There are no cameras." Thankfully.

   "Hit the theme boys."

   "I..."

   "A one and a two..."

   Once again, Ryqo sighs.

[Ryqoshay]

   Ryqo urges the floating undead creature off the stage. For its part, moves lethargically and continues to babble. It changes voices back and forth as though having a conversation with itself. Something about a mirage, a catchy shanty and bubbles. Why bubbles? At some point, it even began humming the song.

   "Anita..." the emcee pleads.

   "I here!" the summoned girl announces, appearing out of the æther. "Come with me, Envy, Envy!" She wraps her arms around the jar and in a moment, both are gone.

   "So, on wid da showum..." Ryqo clears her throat. "I mean 'on with the show.'" The madness must have rubbed off on her a bit. "Our next guest is..." She squints at the paper in her hand. "Adexaleen? No, that can't be right." She cocks her head and turns the paper the other way. "Adaxa... Axle? Ada... Abracadabra!" She makes a broad sweeping motion with her arm towards the mic. "Poof! Our next guest appears!"

   "Aðallín" a young woman corrects, making her way through the crowd. The hem of her white, silky dress may only reach her knees, but her fluid movement still gives the illusion that she is effortlessly gliding along the floor. Her short white hair barely moves as the air itself seems to part to allow her passing. All in all, the effect gives her an aura of maturity and confidence, the likes of which would rival Ryqo's on the rare occasion the guild leader is in the proper mood.

   "Ada-who?"

   "Aðallín." She repeats calmly, as though used to the mispronunciations.

   Ryqo raises an eyebrow and looks at the paper again. "Ro~ight then, take it away Adal-lin!"

   "Thank you." The new guest nods as she arrives at the mic. With little hesitation beyond inhaling, she begins.

"It's sought by many
The light carved by light itself
Yin, but where is Yang?

"He's Hated by many
The dark feared by life itself
Ah, there is your Yang

"You take the goodness
You leave the bad for all others
You have no badness

"You Left the Badness
You took the Goodness from us others
You have the Goodness

"But you have but one
Only One part of this cycle
We have the other

"What you do not see
One requires the other
To exist and live

"Happiness exists
Because sadness exists too
One and the other

"Sadness exists
Because happiness exists too
One and the other

"The two craft meanings
Meanings made for each other
Made for Each other

"So now do you see?
Please bring my love back to me
So that I may hate

"Please Bring My Hate Back, so that I may love once again..."

   Silence

   Different silence than before. Before, many were stunned or taken aback by the audacity of the topic choice, but now, the silence seems more contemplative.

   K-twhump!

   The silence is shattered as a drunken man slips off his chair an onto the floor. All eyes turn to him and when they recognize him, many roll.

   "Ahmohkesh!" the drunkard assures everyone as he staggers to his feet. "Izusht sha poem wash sho deep, I jus' cou..." he cuts off with a loud belch.

   "Someone get 'im another beer, he c'n still stand up on his own." Ryqo quips.

   "Thansh!" He holds up his empty stein and grins stupidly.

   "Don' worry," she says quieter, clamping a hand on Aðdallín's shoulder, "stick around these parts long enough and you'll get used ta the likes a' him."