

━━━━too s c a r e d━
━━just to━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━ we both ━━━━━━━

━━━we're g o i n g to━━
━━━━━━━━━━━━;;━━


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━━━━━━us even m o r e━━


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━are━━━━━

━━━i n t o ━━━━━━━━

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16th November, 1536
Alistair,Stand down, I pray you.
Thou art dying, and I… I do not want this to be the end. I do not want to keep fighting until thou art gone from this world, and I ne'er again get to look upon thee as aught other than the foe I ne'er wanted to see that way.
This war can end now, I beg o' thee. We have done enough. We are forspent. Let this end ere 'tis too late. I do not want to hurt thee.
I may be their prince king now, but a vampire who refrains from blood holds the respect o' none, and I am beholden to a council that would'st see thee and thy kind fordid. They would'st overrule me, and I have held them back as best I can. I am too weak to have a hope o' stopping them. It hath to be thee.
I do not e'en quite understand how we have ended up this way. What hath become o' us? Wherefore have we become foes when I want only to hold thee in mine own arms?
I wast not mocking thee when I asked, that day. I remember only thy face, and blood, and guards, and flameth. And fear. So much fear.
I cannot bring myself to fathom causing thee pain. I don't- but withal the way thee looked at me withal such betrayal as thee called for thy men, I must have, right? I bit thee? I am the cause o' thy wound that shall ne'er heal, thy unending pain?
Amore Mio, how could thee think I would'st harm thee willingly? How could thee think I would'st betray thee? How could thee clepe for guards, when thee knew that wast what mine own own family had done? Thee saw them that day, when they named me a monster for a second time. Thee asked o' mine own feelings when we were far aroint and safe in the snow. Thee heard mine own pain, and I learned I could love thee.
We were planning to find our own Eden, to find a way to stop all this, to take it for ourselveth an we could not find it so we nay longer had to be secret. Wherefore would'st I forsake that? Forsake thee?
Amore Mio, Amore Tesoro, I pray you wot I am sorry,
xxxThy Carlo, still
[398/400]
Visual of Allegro's Letter wrote:
Early Modern English and Italian to Modern English Translation wrote:(If this is seen as a second letter given how some parts are mostly the same, please either ignore it or count it as an extra if applicable. The main translations to know in that case are:
wherefore = why
wot = know
amore mio = my love
tesoro mio = my treasure)
- Code: Select all
Alistair,
Stand down, please.
You are dying, and I… I do not want this to be the end. I do not want to keep fighting until you are gone from this world, and I never again get to look upon you as anything other than the enemy I never wanted to see that way.
This war can end now, I beg of you. We have done enough. We are tired. Let this end before it is too late. I do not want to hurt you.
I may be their Prince King now, but a vampire who refrains from blood holds the respect of none, and I am beholden to a council that would see you and your kind destroyed. They would overrule me, and I have held them back as best I can. I am too weak to have a hope of stopping them. It has to be you.
I do not even quite understand how we have ended up this way. What has become of us? Why have we become enemies when I want only to hold you in my arms?
I was not mocking you when I asked, that day. I remember only your face, and blood, and guards, and flames. And fear. So much fear.
I cannot bring myself to fathom causing you pain. I don't- but with the way you looked at me with such betrayal as you called for your men, I must have, right? I bit you? I am the cause of your wound that will never heal, your unending pain?
My Love, how could you think I would harm you willingly? How could you think I would betray you? How could you call for guards, when you knew that was what my own family had done? You saw them that day, when they named me a monster for a second time. You asked of my feelings when we were far away and safe in the snow. You heard my pain, and I learned I could love you.
We were planning to find our own Eden, to find a way to stop all this, to take it for ourselves if we could not find it so we no longer had to be secret. Why would I forsake that? Forsake you?
My Love, My Treasure, please know I am sorry,
Your Carlo, always
Nocturne to Allegro wrote:16 November, 1536
'tis within the dark and the cold that I find myself hither, ere the fire, reflecting upon the nature o' our companionship. The raging o' the winter wind outside mine own window is a fitting allegory for the chill inside mine own heart.
I do not wot wherefore i am putting quill to paper, but haply 'twill help to calm the endless torment within me. I do not wot that i shall e'en send this to thee, but an I do, wot this-
I despise thee. I despise thee withal e'ry fiber o' mine own being for condemning me to this fate which is worse than death, which finds me weaker e'ry day than the one ere. Is this what thee wanted? Mine own pack's pitying gazeth follow me across the room as I pace restlessly, trapped inside where cold cannot reach. Where thy foul influence cannot reach, either. I may be one o' their leaders now, but I am aye scarred by the events o' that fateful night, and i wot that they are attending for me to show one true sign o' weakness to tear me apart. We are not like thee and thy kind, lofty in thy castles, born into power and prestige. Hither we have to fight for e'ry scrap o' respect that we want to get.
But thee knew that, didst thou not? Wast that not wherefore thee took advantage o' me, used me for thy own purchase? I have had many a year to reflect upon the events o' that day and I cannot say that I blame thee, in the end. Thee received what thee had still wanted - power, reputation, and a rank to suit thy grandest ambitions. I hope everything wast worth it.
And yet, despite the pain and the scars thou hast caused, I love thee still. Mine own hand trembleth as I write these words, but I cannot help but be honest. I love thee. I love thee. I love thee. The one true being who saw through mine own exterior into mine own soul, who shared withal me his own in return. How could I not have loved thee, and love thee still? Thou wert the moonlight o' mine own night, the argentine o' mine own blade. Mine own making and mine own undoing.
I love thee. I hate thee. And I am running out o' time.
Early Modern English to Modern English Translation wrote:
- Code: Select all
[i]16 November, 1536[/i]
It is within the dark and the cold that I find myself here, before the fire, reflecting upon the nature of our companionship. The raging of the winter wind outside my window is a fitting allegory for the chill inside my heart, deadening me to all.
I do not know why I am putting quill to paper, but perhaps it will help to calm the endless torment within me. I do not know that I will even send this to you, but if I do, know this-
I despise you. I despise you with every fiber of my being for having condemned me to this fate which is worse than death, which finds me weaker every day than the one before. Is this what you wanted? My pack's pitying gazes follow me across the room as I pace restlessly, trapped inside where the cold cannot reach. Where your foul influence cannot reach, either. I may be one of their leaders now, but I am forever scarred by the events of that fateful night, and I know that they are waiting for me to show one true sign of weakness to tear me apart. We are not like you and your kind, lofty in your castles, born into power and prestige. Here we have to fight for every scrap of respect that we want to get.
But you knew that, did you not? Was that not why you took advantage of me, used me for your own gain? I have had many a year to reflect upon the events of that day and I cannot say that I blame you, in the end. You received what you had always wanted - power, reputation, and a rank to suit your grandest ambitions. I hope everything was worth it.
And yet, despite everything, despite the pain and the scars you have caused, I love you still. My hand trembles as I write these words, but I cannot help but be honest. I love you. I love you. [i]I love you.[/i] The one true being who saw through my exterior into my soul, who shared with me his own in return. How could I not have loved you, and love you still? You were the moonlight of my night, the silver of my blade. My making and my undoing.
I love you. I hate you. And I am running out of time.
visual of Nocturne's Letter wrote:
Note wrote:Because this is a lot of songs (we sent them as we planned and didn't realize it was this many) it is 100% okay to just read through the lyrics, as that's why we picked them. Just be aware this version of Wicked Game uses "I wanna fall in love" instead of the usual "I don't wanna fall in love" <3
And although we did our best to double check, if we've misunderstood and multiple playlists aren't okay for extras, please only count the middle one!
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