[This is stupid. Dylas is sitting at one of the tables with his personal belongings—a water bottle, a journal, a snack. His attention is more focused on Yue and who his partners are and whether or not Monika approaches him. He's only here to make sure Monika doesn't stab Yue.
Whoever approaches the table will find a poem on a sheet of paper sitting there to be read.]
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”
The black chocobo, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
[As if that weren't bad enough, there are some unsettling clues about. Firstly, this poem is marked with a page number. It's also printed, not hand-written. Thirdly, there are tear-edges, because he clearly tore this out of a poetry book. It might be that poetry book over there on the counter. It is, in fact, that poetry book over there on the counter, that someone must have brought in (sorry Monika).
He might have a real poem with him, though. Who knows? He's not even making eye contact with whoever comes to share poems with him.]
no subject
Whoever approaches the table will find a poem on a sheet of paper sitting there to be read.]
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
The black chocobo, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
[As if that weren't bad enough, there are some unsettling clues about. Firstly, this poem is marked with a page number. It's also printed, not hand-written. Thirdly, there are tear-edges, because he clearly tore this out of a poetry book. It might be that poetry book over there on the counter. It is, in fact, that poetry book over there on the counter, that someone must have brought in (sorry Monika).
He might have a real poem with him, though. Who knows? He's not even making eye contact with whoever comes to share poems with him.]
Yeah, just...read it. Whenever you're ready.