driftfleet | voice

Entry tags:

voice

Who: Sorey
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Huntress
When: Immediately!

Does anything rhyme with silver? [somebody's finally trying his hand at writing poetry]

Also if anybody's seen the SS Huntress's welding torch, please let me know! It is a wreck in here, honestly. ...wait, maybe we don't have a welding torch.

[ACTION]

[Sorey can be found half-buried in the guts of engineering, muttering words to himself as he tries to fit them into his rhyming scheme. Occasionally he'll crawl back out of the maintenance panel to write something in a grease-smudged notebook that contains...truly dire but very enthusiastic poetry.]

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Chilver rhymes with silver, but I don't think that's really what you're looking for. [ She pauses, considering. ] I don't suppose half-rhymes would work?

Go for slant rhyme. If you force it, it'll just come out stiff and unnatural.

Or better yet, just don't put silver at the end of a sentence.

Ohh, they could! If it matches up with what's before it. But what does 'chilver' mean?

But 'silver' works so good here! [someone has not learned how to kill his darlings] Should I use a different color...? Is there a color for white-blue?

[...]

Kil... ter? No...

[Nah man he sucks at poetry too]

[You know how sometimes seraphim are annoyingly quiet on their feet and can sneak around unnoticed?

Yep. The next time Sorey climbs back out of the guts he'll find Mikleo sitting cross-legged just outside the grate, the open notebook in hand. Just how dire is this poetry, anyway? More importantly, how dire is Mikleo's face in response to it?]

[ Silver, huh? ]

Perhaps another word would work. Chrome? Or make it into silvery. That'll make the poem easier on you.

Pilfer!

Ahh, no, that doesn't fit in at all. I am having a lot more trouble with this than I thought I would.

Clay, epic poetry is hard.

[Sorey does that little jump he does when Mikleo shows up somewhere Sorey didn't expect, but he turns it into a grab for his rag and he wipes off his hands.]

I see you found what I'm working on. You're not the only writer in the gang! What d'you think of it?

Chrome? [what is...oh that's a new metal] Huhhh...maybe silvery. That'll change the syllable count though, I'd have to take it from somewhere else.

Hey Obi-Wan, you seem like you have really high class tastes! How would you say the following:

Skin soft as silk, pale as snow
Awash, alight with heaven's glow
Hair spun from the finest silver...

...and that's where I'm stuck.

[He's a little bit horrified, to be honest. Like when they'd found that ridiculous love poetry book in Ladylake. He'd always known Sorey had weird taste, and his rhyming technique had always been very, uh, purple, but this is bordering on absurd.]

It's... very you.

I would leave the first two lines. Perhaps . . . .

[ He pauses. Poetry or the arts is not usually his expertise. Still . . . ]

Hair spun from the brightest moonbeams
Which flows as swift as streams

It'll certainly remove the problem of silver but keep the right colour for your poem.

I know! I was the worst at poetry in my English class!

[He just kinda talked about stars and shit so that helped, but still! WHAT RHYMES WITH JUPITER???]

Maybe you could go with something like it? Like, um... something to do with stars?

[bro]

I knew you'd suggest that.

Edited 2016-02-19 05:41 (UTC)

Aww, Mikleo. [BLUSH. Yup, that's what frosts his cupcake: Mikleo telling him that his art is reflective of his personality.] It's the first time I've ever tried to write something that wasn't purely academic! I wanted to make sure it sounded like me.

Moonbeams...

Oh my gosh, that's perfect! Wow, you seriously have a way with words. Okay! You have to help me out with the next part, you would not believe how few words rhyme with purple. And don't even get me started on lavender.

[He gives a sheepish little laugh, and then - okay! Focus on the poetry!]

Come on, I'm being serious! Like, um... What's the line you're trying to do?

I can't say I do. I've never had much of a romantic soul.

[ Sure he's flirted with others from time to time, but he's never been verbose at it. And all his romances, so to speak, happen to be unconventional. ]

How about violet or mauve?

[He's glad Sorey's accepting it as a compliment, because he's pretty sure it was not one, originally.

He flips the page, making a face.]

But still. Don't you think you should keep the individual stanzas more... balanced?

Mauve...no, definitely not mauve. Violet, maybe. Is there something in nature that's like, stunningly beautiful but also purple? I'm trying to think of something.

Skin soft as silk, pale as snow
Awash, alight with heaven's glow
Hair spun from the finest silver...

But I'm having a hard time rhyming that. Maybe I should just move on ahead to later verses and come back to this one...

[Sorey's torso has already disappeared back into the guts of the Huntress, so his voice echoes against the bulkhead plating as he tries to loosen a particularly stubborn nut.] Ghgh, balanced how? The syllable count is off?

[ He knows what it is. He doesn't want to say it, but his mind rebels against him. ]

Satin. . . I believe. It's a kind of weave that tends to catch people's eyes.

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