ive: (Cherry branches)

I am grateful for your life. The world is greener under your tread.

I don't know who said it, or to whom. I have a feeling it doesn't even matter.

ive: (Default)

Today is Ive and Jariel's anniversary. Many happy years, my loves.

Also, Michael is molting. You would not believe the chaos a bunch of birdfeathers can cause in a household.


Feb. 9th, 2007 12:33 pm
ive: (weaponofcreation)

The word for 'man' is Ive's language is "hikane," with the accent on the I.

This dish sounds very much like something his mother would have hidden a drug in, if she needed to place someone in a compromising position.

Count Nesselrode, the 19th-century Russian diplomat, lived and ate lavishly and had a number of rich dishes dedicated to him. The most famous is Nesselrode pudding, developed by his head chef Mouy. It consists of cream-enriched custard mixed with chestnut puree, candied fruits, currants, raisins and maraschino liqueur. This elegant mixture is often frozen, or made into a pie or dessert sauce.

ive: (Default)

I feel a bit bad for never keeping up their journal. I always mean to, but time is always fleeting.

Anyway: Teany vanilla berry hibiscus: this is what Ive would drink if he were five years old and being given summer tea with lunch in the garden at a high white wrought-iron table.


Jan. 29th, 2006 02:25 am
ive: (Cherry branches)

They say I am different now than I had been. If so, it is they who have changed me.

She wishes to remember to write the things that are said. "To make them real," she says, pressing her forehead against my shoulder.

ive: (Cherry branches)

it takes only very small things to please [him].

I was walking down the street outside of work, and turned to look up at the tall church-steeple, pealing in the mist. The moon was visible only as a pale outline above it; further down the road, light rose into the air. I felt him turn and look, and keep looking, as if he travelled forward with his gaze, and yet could hold everything absolutely still.

ive: (Default)

She rousted me out of bed to write a letter, chuckling at my state of undress. I pulled on a bed jacket and swung out my legs, bending to kiss her shoulder. She is bleeding still, from her time down, in slow drops that take days to well and glisten.

She did not speak it, only pointed to the letter and chided me for being asleep. I said to her "You are the one who isolates yourself." She snorted and looked at me, asking how precisely this got the letter written.

I told her: "You hold on to pain because it is the only strong emotion that comes to you of itself. Anything else you feel needs to be built from the ground up, like these tiktoks and mechanics you are so sympathetic toward. It is a natural force, so you mistake it for the truth."

"Are you saying i'm cold-blooded?"

You are. I also say you should put more faith in what you create."


Jul. 24th, 2005 07:06 pm
ive: (Default)

I have decided that very small children of the just-reliably-ambulatory stage amuse me. It does not seem as if their legs should support them, and yet they do. With great prejudice.

She turns over in her sleep, and mutters about "being chased by hedgehogs." Quite.

ive: (Default)

She is having short moments of riding with me today, as we would do with her.

Thus far, she has completely avoided anything useful, and is currently wishing to write extensively about knitting. And also her book.

It is strange when her ears listen in one direction and her eyes face another.

ive: (Default)

[He] drew me out of bed, quite gently, and set the book in my hands and her knitting. He was leaving, at last, after hours of watching him sleep, to go and sit over her.

[He] is torn; wishing to stay and draw out our husband's anger, knowing that this needs to be done. But it is day, and she will need watching. Where our husband is, I do not know.

It seems we are obliged to speak for each other.

ive: (love overwhelms)

Today, while at lunch, we both (Gabriel and I) saw Ive sitting in the great room, after we had wandered around the Cloisters all morning. He was sketching a cloister-garden (with quince trees, lace maple and dyer's herbs) on a pad in his lap. Tiny pots of watercolors were open on a table by his knee, and he dipped a tiny, delicate brush into one and started to touch color to a small patch of flowers.

He was wearing soft grey pants ("Yoga pants." Gabriel says.) and his feet were bare, bouncing idly.

ive: (weaponofcreation)

She said, on the edge of sleep: "Sometimes going to find [him] is like dreaming about walking in museums."

ive: (Ive)

One to engage, and another to hunt.

ive: (Default)

I sense an imminent crash in her; He feels it as well, has said so with one of the rare glances he spares me.

And as I say it, so she knows.

ive: (Default)

The first betrayal is self-betrayal.

ive: (Default)

>~Shryant and Damon:
[snip Damon spilling the beans - in an oh so polite manner, of course.]
>The truth seemed to be the best way to
>take Shryant's attention away from the matter. It meant that there was
>nothing more to see here.
>"Well, looks like it's all taken care of,
>Lucy," said the wild red-head. "So let's talk. You too,
>Sevvy." He looked specifically at Ive and then Damon. "You other
>two, scram." Truthfully, he didn't care if they stayed or went, but there
>was something fun about bullying snotty prettyboy gits around. Briefly, he >thought of them tied up in a dungeon, but kept his mind focused on what >needed to be said. Business before pleasure, after all.

"I hope you take no offense, sir, but i prefer to remain in the company of my Lord," Ive purred, throwing a posessive look at Lucius' back. He had given up on the "plaything" bluster for dead, but the salacious flicker in Shryant's eye - brief, but so very well known to him that he would have recognized it from a lizard - had given him an idea. The story abandoned, then - but not the teller. The courtesan's disguise flowed over him like water. He had always found it easier to think beneath its cool surface; so few delved beyond a willing mouth.

Ive slipped into Damon's arms, expertly fitting their bodies together. In composition, one Malfoy was very like another. He laid his head on Damon's shoulder and sighed gustily, looking at Lucius again. No doubt to the observer this little display was blatantly calculated to make Lucius jealous.

"Forgive me for using you like this," Ive muttered into the hollow
of Damon's shoulder. He twisted, making a subtle show of squirming. "And though this mangy wolf no doubt soon receives its waiting kick in the teeth, we know not what may stay their hands. Better to know the nature of the beast." This last addressed to the pale font of his throat, the words transmitted as much by thrum and breath as sound.

He found a space between moments enough to shoot an apologetic glance at Snape. He doubted the man was no more entangled now than before, but he still felt a twinge of guilt. Had they not been invited for a celebration, after all..? 'I'll find some way to make it up to him later,' he thought, 'Though aught might do save a red ribbon 'round that boy's neck and a noose for someone else's.' He hid a smirk.


lovely players. it seems like whenver i start getting twitchy, they get up and start moving of their own accord. do they read our journals, or is it just the MGB at work again? who can say?

we still think they need to lighten up a bit, though. come on. corpses, toddlers, sex and Malfoy tea parties. what's not funny about this? heh.

anyway, feeling much better about the whole thing, much less cranky.

ive: (Default)

this makes us dizzy and sick with implication. It's far too close to heart and much too near the bone.

ive: (Ive)

>"There you are," Damon said, coming up behind Lucius. He'd departed from
>the study after Ive and Snape had completed their spell to determine the
>cause of death, but having heard Lucius' voice, he'd found his father right
>back at the study, along with the red-headed. . .thing.
>"I was just looking for you to tell you about all this," he added. Around
>Shryant, he chose to keep things brief and vague. The slimy, slovenly man
>was obviously looking for anything to pounce on and sink his teeth into.
>"This dull attempt at a party must have bored her to death," Shryant
>commented, snickering at the looks of distaste he received from the three
>men in reply. "But really, how'd you do it, Lucy-poo? Or better yet, why?
>Aren't you glad it's just me asking, rather than the Ministry?" He grinned
>a feral grin. "Oh, that would be a real cryin' shame, it would."
>With a swift motion, he blocked Professor Snape and Ive's passage out of the
>room. He didn't much like being ignored, and especially hated it when
>people expected common courtesy from him. The only person entitled to a
>thing like that was the Great Lord himself, and nobody was going to tell him

     //Merlin's capering testicles,// spat the small voice in the back of his brain. Ive allowed himself a moment of real horror before using the rest of the split second to think. Shryant was still here, in Lucius' company, and most telling, still concious. That meant the elder Malfoy could not move immediately against It, for whatever reason. Moreover, it was both enjoying Lucius' discomfiture immensely and seemed not the least suprised to find a dead body on his host's grounds. That spoke of mech more than a passing association.

     Time to move. Without sparing a glance for either Snape or Damon, his next step took him to Lucius' side. He stood intimately close, angling his body in the ways he knew would fit them together; the line of ribs here, the tilt of the hip exact. He angled his head up, pretty mouth curved in a moue of dissapointment. "Oh, Lu- my Lord. The preperations were botched again - she was dead before we could even begin to use her properly." A gesture to the unmarked skin of the corpse. Ive folded arms across his slender chest, both in seeming reproach and self-defense. "I knew we should have taken her deeper into the house, but the servants said they had taken care of things and it would be all right if we played with her here. Honestly, they never rotate the stock of Aestivatus Draught.."

     He prattled on in this vein for a few more sentences, alternately berating the house-elves and bemoaning the loss of yet another plaything. It was a risk - oh, it was a risk. But he if knew Lucius' "associations".. Time to wrap up.

     "Sev' was being kind. He only wanted to watch, like always, but when we saw she was dead - well, she's got to be disposed of." He raised his fingers; stopped a breath shy of trailing them down Lucius' chest, twisted a smirk into an ingenue's smile when he felt the taller man's hand automatically pass itself around his back.

     "You'll forgive us, won't you? She must have been too delicate, anyway - we'll even get rid of her ourselves, as penance." Tilted eyes seemed to notice Shryant for the first time, blinked at him appraisingly, then returned to Lucius' jaw to await his answer.


we simply can't wait to see how they take this. meanwhile, Ive is absolutely squirming. "I haven't had to resort to tricks like that since I was seventeen. Subtle as stinkrose, and I'll have to find ways to make it up to both Damon and Snape.. *puff of annoyance*"

ive: (Ive)

When confronted with a witness you cannot eliminate, entangle him inextricably.

ive: (player natter)

ergh. could someone please remind this Aries to always let a post sit a while and reread it before sending it in to the game? typos i can deal with, but we writhe with irritation at turning in substandard writing, espeically when it could have been so easily fixed by just coming back to ten minutes later.

too late now, but maybe i'd ought to write myself a post-it or keep a kitchen timer on the desk or something.

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