Mystical Raven's page

Raven is a bold and dashing, cloak and dagger type of raven. There is a audacity in the way his beak is curved, a certain untameable wildness in his forehead feathers. He doesn't like to talk about his left foot middle toe, he thinks the claw is a bit dull. That's what he thinks, anyway. To any human he looks a perfectly normal, stereotypical raven.

Raven is a hopeless romantic, deeply honest and a friend of good company. He can be annoyingly abrupt and has a habit of bringing a conversation by dropping a single one line out of context without comment. He is also a friend of stormy and uninvited entrances. Sometimes the finer points of conduct simply ellude him. However, he can be a remarkably good listener and brings forth what is in the heart of people.

There are many fragments of the story which are missing, for example that there is supposed to be a bust of Pallas above the chamber door (and not of Aphrodite or Athene). The single one key fragment that's missing, however is the single one word Raven is supposed to say: "Nevermore."

He does remember that what he is supposed to say is somehow important, but he doesn't even know that it's only a single one word.

Once upon a midday drowsy, all her thoughts so free and frowsy
Over many quaint and curious kith without their own folklore
While she squirmed, hungry longing, suddenly their came a flapping,
As of some boldly landing, landing at the window board.
"Hello, raven" did she mumble, "welcome to my window board."
Only this and nothing... else.

Quoth the raven: "Croak!"
This he said, and nothing ... in addition.

However, he must have figured out that this is not a proper way to chat up a pretty young woman, so after a somewhat awkward smirk and a yawn from her he added. "Hello Rapunzel. Sorry to burst in here, didn't realize your were sleeping."

She came over to him and gave him a kiss upside the feathery black head. As a raven he was unable to blush of course, so he stepped from one foot to another and winded his in embarressment. Of course Rapunzel realized that the raven had quite a crush on her, but she also knew that he was way too much gentlebird to ever become unpleasant. Thus she was happy he was there, and didn't mind that raven saw her lightly dressed.

For it was a negligée
This she wore, and nothing... to cover her legs.

"It's alright", she answered, "some company would actually be nice, I suppose." While she did try to appear cheery as always Raven didn't miss the somewhat said subcontext.

"Your prince still didn't check up on you?" he asked carefully.

"No, he did not. You wouldn't happen to know whatever skirt he is chasing today?"

The raven did try to sound as innocent as he could but failed horribly, just because of it. "He may be looking for Hope."

"Hope! I can't hear it anymore! That rotten **** hopefully chokes for all the **** after her! She is worse than those blasted Tyranny and Anarchy!"

Quoth the raven: "Croak"
This he said, and nothing ... to elaborate.

There was indeed little to be said about it. Hope did like to play hard-to-get. And she did it with enthusiasm with every single fairy-tale-prince in the village. Every single one was looking for Hope, trying to be the first to get her and while she kept uncouraging them, as far as Raven knew, none ever managed to get a hold onto her. She was worse than any Siren. He did try to meet her once and talk some sense into her, but once you find Hope, you're completely lost for her and there is no way to resist that. So the only thing good about it was that she did stay out of the village.

Raven absolutely did not understand Rapunzel's prince, though. She was nice, lovely, a bit of a homebody, sure, but the same could be said about the old man, his only room mate and story counterpart. Raven absolutely adored Rapunzels deliberately rough and cute, fey-ish short hair cut. Gave her something authentic, very fey-ish. She fit a lot better into this world than most other damsels in distress, like Snow White, Star Money, Cinderalla and whatever their names were. All just a mindless icon of girlishness and outdated ideals of perfection. Snow white and her six dwarves with all this and her starlet stepmother were the worst. Rapunzel was, well, a an honest, upright fey who spoke her mind and didn't fold into preconceptions in turn. Admittedly, that might indeed make it harder for her to get back into her story. So Raven was a little ashamed that he even encouraged her, he just liked her that way.

"Did anyone ever tell you have an abrupt way with words?" She sighed. "I hope he doesn't find Hope. Well, true love is even harder to find."

With a bit of a misunderstanding Raven replied: "She is indeed. I don't even know why anyone would want to ban her (or 'him' from your perspective) from the village. It's not like True Love tried to fool anyone, she just is. She may not be as pretty as Hope or young love or as lush as Desire, but she's the kindest person you could possibly think of."

"We had this conversation before" she replied with a grin. "If you cast Tyranny out you can't ask True Love to stay. And she likes to be hard to find, so she wouldn't stay even if we asked her to. And don't tell me it's a matter of principle now, it just wouldn't work, what does it matter whether she is allowed to stay or not if she won't just come to us without us lookinig for her, anyway."

"Yeah, you're right." he croaked, hardly convinced, but he knew that Rapunzel would get the better of him in this discussion. "How's the old crone?" he tried to switch the topic and asked about her own room mate.

"Old crone! You could be a bit nicer, you know? She may be a bit overprotective, but she had been certainly nice to me. We made built this flower together in only a couple of days and she did by far most of the work. Keeps bringing me flowers and all kinds of lovely teas, flavoured with nectar."

"Don't you think you're a bit too nice every now and then?" he couldn't help himself, he just had to be a bit practical at this point. "I mean... I know how you hate me saying this, but... sometimes it's not so bad to consider how things were supposed to be in order to get back."

"I agree to that, will you stop calling my landlady a 'crone'?"

Quoth the raven: "Deal"
This he said and nothing... else might have been said about the matter.

"How's your own partner in crime?" She sat down with a gleam of curiousity in her eyes. Raven already knew what she would be asking next, but he replied nevertheless.

"Well, he thinks we need a bust for the story. So, he's been all kind mythical kith to pose for him. I offered to help him - my beak makes me good at wood working, even though I am not as good as a woodpecker. It seems to be personal to him, however, so I let him go. Aphrodite shot him down, cold and elegant as she always is. Athene seemed to be seriously agitated by the simple request... like we reminded her on something painful. He's just trying to recreate it from faint memories now."

"And..." continued Rapunzel prodding him with a sly grin on her face: "What's your story as far as you can remember?"

He just knew it. She would ask him about his own half remembered story. It was painful to go through all the little details and trying to figure something out of the fragments of a dream. Most kith didn't like to talk about it and if they did it was very personal. He sorted his thoughts while she leaned forward, nose to his beak and watched him patiently. Well, alright. Not for anyone else, but Rapunzel is just too... heaven young women should not be allowed to be that lovely.

"I... I am afraid I don't think it's a very nice story. Basically one of a misunderstanding. I remember it's a cold and stormy night. I remember this old house, with the little library and the old man, my room mate, sitting in it. He seems a bit lost. Lonely. Obviously can't really sleep, but isn't fully awake, either. Sooo... I think, let's find some nice place to rest for myself and cheer the poor guy up. I try get in, but the window is locked..."

"You do have a habit of abrupt entrances." she remarked as he paused. "Please go on."

"Well, eventually he figures out that I am at the window, not at the door, and lets me in. But that's where things get awry. I say something to him, but I can't remember what. It unsettles him a little, but at first he's all nice and so. I figure he's still not over the death of his wife and so, try to convince him he should go on with his life, leave the past behind, smile a little... but he gets it all the wrong way. He actually goes nuts as part of the story. Very frustrating. Something that I say upsets him, make him completely loose it, even though I do mean well. But... I don't know what it is. I don't have a lot text... I think it may even be somewhat repetitive..."

"Are you sure you want to get back to that story?"

"I don't want to. But that's where we belong, isn't it? We're dreams, reflections of emotions, concepts, stereotypes... while it may not be pretty we all represent something that makes the world go round, and without that... there is little meaning left." He fluttered and added with a mumble: "I am sorry for the Old Man, though."

"You know, sometimes I wish we could just change our stories, though. That you be my prince and I was a raven damsel-in-distress. So we could fly out together."

"And the... your landlady?"

She grinned. "Alright, I think I'll continue my nap. Will you watch out for me?"

Quoth the raven: "Sure."

She went back to her bed and slumbered a lot more peaceful now.

And the Raven still is sitting, still is sitting on the window board.
Shall be leaving... some time soon.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

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 above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further 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."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!