[ Much to her own surprise, Sylvarie found herself sitting amidst the outworlders with a thin leather-bound journal in her lap. Though she had already considered attending the club on her own, it was Primrose’s insistence that had truly caught her off guard. The moogle certainly has never made her disapproval for many creative arts unknown, yet this one she had deemed “suitable” and “ladylike,” whatever that meant.
Nonetheless, it had been years since she had last taken part in any sort of poetry or literature, so while she may have given her best effort, there was no denying the nervous hesitation in her voice when she extracted her poem. ]
This is… I’m not sure I was ever good at any of this, but I appreciate your taking the time to listen.
[ Breathing in, so began the steady rhythm, voice filled with melancholy as the words slipped past. ]
Memories from long ago Paint your waters with pitch black Storms above and rage below A vessel drowning with just one crack
Yet echoes from further still push forward with all might Sunshine bright and beauty bestowed Waves ebbing and sand white
Perilous is the might of the sea Her waters refuge for a monster’s den Yet the same sea does grant reprieve Breathing life, again and again
Many are the facets of the sea Merry yet sorrowful, her song a forgotten plea
Of the two distant echoes, which shall ring true? Days of laughter and joy, or the night when terror grew? All in due time, some would say Yet with each wave that recedes, so too do the days fray
[ Finished, she looked to her listener timidly. Criticism she could handle, but that made it no less intimidating when it came to such material. ]
no subject
Nonetheless, it had been years since she had last taken part in any sort of poetry or literature, so while she may have given her best effort, there was no denying the nervous hesitation in her voice when she extracted her poem. ]
This is… I’m not sure I was ever good at any of this, but I appreciate your taking the time to listen.
[ Breathing in, so began the steady rhythm, voice filled with melancholy as the words slipped past. ]
Memories from long ago
Paint your waters with pitch black
Storms above and rage below
A vessel drowning with just one crack
Yet echoes from further still push forward with all might
Sunshine bright and beauty bestowed
Waves ebbing and sand white
Perilous is the might of the sea
Her waters refuge for a monster’s den
Yet the same sea does grant reprieve
Breathing life, again and again
Many are the facets of the sea
Merry yet sorrowful, her song a forgotten plea
Of the two distant echoes, which shall ring true?
Days of laughter and joy, or the night when terror grew?
All in due time, some would say
Yet with each wave that recedes, so too do the days fray
[ Finished, she looked to her listener timidly. Criticism she could handle, but that made it no less intimidating when it came to such material. ]