I wanted to write something like this IC, but I'm nota good enough writer to manage straight tragedy without it being risible, so a vulgar parody of Nat King Cole will have to suffice. --Jacob
A fireplace that bears a fireball’s traces,
Scorches on the walls in unusual places,
A burn on my arm still stings...
These foolish things remind me of you.
A pyrokin in the next apartment,
That biting scorn about “correct deportment”,
A kender’s coloured strings,
These foolish things remind me of you.
You came, you saw,
You ignited me.
When you did that to me,
I knew somehow this had to be.
A pair of lovers stop and turn and falter,
A priest of Ishmund kneeling at an alter,
The way a limpet clings...
These foolish things remind me of you.
The first undead being at once belaboured,
And desperate fights behind the lined-up tables,
The spells you used to fling...
These foolish things remind me of you.
The Church of Ishmund when the bell has sounded,
The College of Fire and the roads around it,
The beauty that is spring’s ...
These foolish things remind me of you.
How strange, how sweet
To find you still,
These things are dear to me,
They seem to bring you near to me.
The sight of tenacles and dirty tankards,
Lies in the Gossip being met with anger.
Oh, how the ghost of you clings!
These foolish things remind me of you...
These foolish things remind me of you.
Aww. I feel... mostly flattered, I think. Glad that I created such a well-remembered and loved character, I guess. Yay. I would hug you but you'd kill me. --Pufferfish