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December Cygnets (3) (1 Viewer)

Darkkin

WF Veterans
Return to Peach Blossoms Weeping


Charcoal fleecing, tatters o’er cobalt, a deep sighing December night.
Tippets, rain whispers through a mist, ahead peach blossoms snowing.
There he waits, a patient wraith, all that remains of Jackaby Wright.

A triskulk ‘cross the Tide bounding bathed by the golden firefly light.
Tails sweeping, tippets reaching, a gap from the danger swiftly growing.
Charcoal fleecing, tatters o’er cobalt, a deep sighing December night.

And he saw it falling from the deep, a beast of fearsome scarlet might—
The Trioctopi of Coral Deeping, seeds of terror ripe, ready for sowing.
There he waits, a patient wraith, all that remains of Jackaby Wright.

Off the moonglade, to the heart of the Tide, triskulk in desperate flight.
Vixens of silver and white, a sooty warrior in Star’s steps, leading—going.
Charcoal fleecing, tatters o’er cobalt, a deep sighing December night.

From the Strait it rose; the drifts of blossoms glowing snowy and bright.
The Crossroad of Peach Blossom Weeping, a place of peace and knowing.
There he waits, a patient wraith, all that remains of Jackaby Wright.

In a hush of paws the triskulk reaches the midnight sand, a welcome sight.
The Trioctopi of Deeping suddenly thwarted by tides of fireflies glowing.
Charcoal fleecing, tatters o’er cobalt, a deep sighing December night.
There he waits, a patient wraith, all that remains of Jackaby Wright.




The Fate of Jackaby Wright


‘Twas at Deeping she wrecked, so lay the bones, the Jeanette Isabelle.
Bones of the frigate upon the shingle beach, salted, cold, so bitterly white.
Bravely he served, by The Thumb he swore, yet Jackaby Wright still fell.

His duty fulfilled as Miri Lowelle morphed, a Selkie sleek, breaching swell.
Safely away, in the company of Echo she went this Guardian of Bright.
‘Twas at Deeping she wrecked, so lay the bones, the Jeanette Isabelle.

Into the fray Jackaby had charged, against the Huntsman, a fiend of hell.
Jackaby Wright the Highwayman of Madd, a truly reckless errant Knight.
Bravely he served, by The Thumb he swore, yet Jackaby Wright still fell.

That fiend, the Huntsman with his Cussers dark surged, a malignant spell—
O’er the bones o’ the Belle, covering her, a cloak of gore, splattered blight.
‘Twas at Deeping she wrecked, so lay the bones, the Jeanette Isabelle.

To the hold, upon his stallion grey, Jackaby fought, a tale for blood to tell—
He saw a face, small and sweet, a face revealed by an aureole silvery bright.
Bravely he served, by The Thumb he swore, yet Jackaby Wright still fell.

In the argent glow of the Selkie’s blood he saw that face, knew it well…
The Rule of Thumb, a star in the black, lead him to his fate that night.
‘Twas at Deeping she wrecked, so lay the bones, the Jeanette Isabelle.
Bravely he served, by The Thumb he swore, yet Jackaby Wright still fell.


An Ember of Truth


It was truth reflected; Jackaby’s fate meted upon the shore, a bright aureole.
Ring in hand, memories flooded in fleshing the bloody bones of the Belle.
Echo and Miri, quicksilver flowing, the embers of his line, fires of his soul.

At Deeping she wrecked, the Jeanette Isabelle, Miri watching from the knoll.
To the Trioctopi, scarlet tentacles snatching, sister of the Night Galleon, fell.
It was truth reflected; Jackaby’s fate meted upon the shore, a blazing aureole.

Miri’s hell bright curls on the knoll were the final trace light as Jackaby let go.
Down to the depths he was taken, a final breath forsaken to Deeping’s Well.
Echo and Miri, quicksilver flowing, the embers of his line, fires of his soul.

Astride faithful Hermes, Miri plunged into the sea through flotsam and shoal—
Seeking for a sign of Jackaby Wright, but he was gone, taken with the Belle.
It was truth reflected; Jackaby’s fate meted upon the shore, a blazing aureole.

Jackaby Wright at last knew the truth; ‘twas more than life the Huntsman stole.
From the bones of Belle he snatched it, a light born of hope, not fires of hell.
Echo and Miri, quicksilver flowing, the embers of his line, fires of his soul.

A relic that ignited the stars each night, kept the constellations hale and whole.
It was a torch, lighted by Helia of the East, the Tortoise of the Gilded Shell.
It was truth reflected; Jackaby’s fate meted upon the shore, a blazing aureole.
Echo and Miri, quicksilver flowing, the embers of his line, fires of his soul.



The Passing of Jackaby Wright


By the Rule of Thumb, his ring in hand; a spectre he, was Jackaby Wright.
Memories lost, the Highwayman of Madd, born the night old Jackaby died.
A wraith, along the shores of Deeping he rode, over Miri, watching by night.

Until the Huntsman, a hell souled fiend, returned to quash Miri's gentle light.
On a chase, twining down to Deeping shore she rode, fought with n'er a cry.
By the Rule of Thumb, his ring in hand; a spectre he, was Jackaby Wright.

To his memories, the bitter truth, Miri, a Selkie grey, held, clung limpet tight.
Echo, to Ebb the Dark Swan bound, Miri, now alone, beached, high and dry.
A wraith along the shores of Deeping he rode, over Miri, watching by night.

An echo, a father taken by the sea, Miri, a secret kept until the time was right.
‘Twas at Deeping, as Echo cast her coat about her that Miri broke, finally cried.
By the Rule of Thumb, his ring in hand; a spectre he, was Jackaby Wright.

Jackaby Wright, Highwayman of Madd, challenged the Huntsman’s might.
That old demon and his Cussers plunged into a fight they could not deny.
A wraith along the shores of Deeping he rode, over Miri, watching by night.

With the Rule of Thumb, his sword in hand, Jackaby fought to save the Light.
He, the Highwayman of Madd, a phantom rider under a storm cloaked sky.
By the Rule of Thumb, his ring in hand, a spectre he, was Jackaby Wright.
A wraith along the shores of Deeping he rode, over Miri, watching by night.


Bones in the Tide


With the ebbing Tide, Miri, a Selkie swam, away from Deeping Shore.
Salt tears bleeding to brine, she plucked them from the sea, those bones—
The bones of her father, good Jackaby Wright, a name fading into lore.

To Echo they passed, the Firefly Tide offering up the ring he once wore.
A spectre by stormlight battled, a sword, bloodied, clattered to the stones.
With the ebbing Tide, Miri, a Selkie swam, away from Deeping Shore.

The Huntsman, ranks sundered, retreated, revenge a blood debt he swore.
To the pocked face of Deeping he went, ushered by the wind’s dying tones.
The bones of her father, good Jackaby Wright, a name fading into lore.

Last glimmers of the storm’s ire limned Madd’s blade darkened by gore.
In a clatter he scampered, O’, all senses tense, reflexes quick and honed.
With the ebbing Tide, Miri, a Selkie swam, away from Deeping Shore.

Hermes, faithful beast, saw O’ dragging a sword, making for a lost door.
A door where no door should be—A door whose lock was made of bone.
The bones of her father, good Jackaby Wright, a name fading into lore.

Away from Deeping to the Peach Blossom Weeping, that drifted shore—
They gathered; Hermes, Miri, Echo n’ O’—bones now rest ‘neath a stone.
With the ebbing Tide, Miri, a Selkie swam, away from Deeping Shore.
The bones of her father, good Jackaby Wright, a name fading into lore.
 
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