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Sivart Reborn

Dragonsworn
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Posts posted by Sivart Reborn

  1. Moiraine's kin

    in Kesiera

    Posted

    Far dais Madi? (forgive my spelling!)

    The Madiens of the Spear are a far cry from the Game of Houses. So I think your first one is more correct regardless if it is right or not.

     

    I'm with the mass death of Mo's family theory myself. NS led me to believe that mostly because of that 'Mo on Throne' thing.

  2. Random VII

    in Chatterbox

    Posted

    Hmm... aren't people odd everywhere?

     

    I know yesterday was odd, like watching my life so far in rewind. Spent they later morning early afternoon with a person I've known now for 13 months, then people I've known for 4 years, then someone I've known just about all my life. I'm closer to the people I've known for shorter amounts of time... which is a scary thought.

    @Kati: I don't get your longer post... I'm lost!!! :P

  3. Poetry

    in Inspiration

    Posted

    Love is good or bad depending on whether it is really love or lust. Then if it is lust, it all depends on the people involved.

     

    If poetry is pompous then it is arguable that writting prose is pompous. Or any expression in an artistic form is so. Simplicity is the best part of writting or art in general.

    The answer of life the universe and everything is: Find someone, get laid. Repeat.

    Not true in the case of many people. Sex is a form of release (I know that is a really bad play on words...) for a lot of people but many don't view sex casually. Many don't view writting casually, and that is their loss. Point being that "I'm sad and etc. etc. hold me." doesn't add in most cases. I'm currently in a very comfortable relationship myself, so that rules lonely out. I don't need to ask to be held, which works quite well for me. I don't like asking. Neither am I sad. My life at this moment is slow but very good to me and many people have it a lot worse.

    The assumption that I write depressingly because I've known various sorrows is correct. Everybody does. But assuming further that I don't know various joys is false. I could write a dit about being in love, but the general way I think and write gives most everything a darker overtune. Therefore a poem about being in love comes off as guilty love, mostly because the writer thinks it sounds better.

    Writting in general is my pastime, I wrote some prose which I posted here and some I haven't. I have a good many poems I haven't posted here, all of which are in the same dark mood. My prose also carries a less happy and more serious note. However, that doesn't really reflect me as a person. I am often not serious at all, and I probably laugh more than I should.

     

    I think that people are comfortable writting along their lines of flow. I like how dark poetry sounds, and I like writting about sad simply because it sounds better to me. I also know people who write very upbeat poems, but can't write a sad one. Like I said, even if someone showed me a way to write nice happy poems and make them sound right to me, my mind makes words flow in slow, more sorrowful notes.

     

    Which brings me to my second reason to post... Tosh, I just realized you have my sister's nickname.

    Try my hand at something here...

    Oh the surprise and overawe,

    Oh the wonders of the world,

    We have a newcomer, another one,

    What are they like, we all wonder,

    Are they quiet, are they nice,

    Perhaps they are like flowers,

    Maybe more like clouds,

    But all in all, the ways things go,

    This is a welcome, a belated one,

    But welcome, welcome the MW,

    Where insanity is encouraged,

    And Marie is watching you.:P

  7. Poetry

    in Inspiration

    Posted

    I failed you all!:o

    I cannot write happy poetry!;)

    So I'll write a sad poem to that!;)

     

    Oh the inadaquacy,

    That tortured agony,

    My pen ever falters,

    The verse never sings,

     

    Of happiness I make not,

    I hereby make this tomb of mouring,

    And mayhap that one raises that sword,

    And frees the poet from an early grave,

     

    But no glory is found in this,

    And lastly we have come to miss,

    The pleasures of a smile or laugh,

    So we all come to the lesser of things,

     

    And if one can release this,

    Then maybe we will go,

    But more than likely,

    We'll stay here, in our dark.

  12. My Second Fanfic!

    in Inspiration

    Posted

    Thanks!

    Going over this, this is one of the few things I've ever written (prose-wise) that I don't have an overwhelming urge to redo. It kinda came to me on the spot after reading about Walker's death and Allanon's shade rising to take him to the beyond with him. It reminded me sharply of Allanon's death and Bremen taking him. Then the connections came to mind and it all kinda fell into place.

  16. Confessions!

    in The Books

    Posted

    I confessed that I liked things! So there! :lmao:

    I confess that I deleted the unfinished stuff!

    I confess that now I wish I hadn't!

    I confess that I don't like typing I confess before each statement!

    I confess that I intend to reread WoT books 1-5 at the start of next year!

  17. Confessions!

    in The Books

    Posted

    I liked Rand in the middle of the Eye of the World, and that was it.

    I liked the Eg/Rand pairing.

    I liked the Lan/Mo pairing.

    I liked Eladia for about 1 second.

    I liked Faile. *don't shoot, please*

    I liked Perrin/Faile.

    I liked the idea of a Mat/Silverbow pairing, although I can't make it work in a fanfic.

    I semi liked the Thom/Mo pairing.

    I liked Thom in the first three books. After that he became kinda "zzzz" for me.

    I didn't like Mat until book five.

    I don't really like any of the female roles by book eleven except for maybe Falie and Mo if she'd just show up.

    I find most men in the books to be mildy disturbing at times.

    I liked Ishy/Mordy.

    I disliked all the other Forsaken. They remind me of American politicians.

    I too have spent time placing my friends in ajahs. Male and female.

    I've started several WoT fanfics and finished none.

    I did not read the first page of this topic, but the second all the way to this.

  21. My Second Fanfic!

    in Inspiration

    Posted

    Unfortunatly... not a WoT one. I can't ever keep one going, sorry all!

    It is a Shannara one, so Ajit, there might be spoilers! I don't know how far you are in the series.

    I dedicate this to Kate because she actually asked me to post another a loooooooooooong time ago but I never got around to writting one! :lmao:

    Author's Note: I always wanted to type that, but anyway, this is considerably shorter than my other one, so less suffering for all readers!

     

    Everything I Hated

     

    The man that had been born Walker Ohmsford, took upon his mother's maiden name of Boh, and later simply became Walker now was totally left alone in his mind. He'd spent the first part of his life trying to escape the Druid legacy that had been placed upon Brin Ohmsford; only in the end to embrace it and become the succesor to Allanon. In doing so he, in many ways, became Allanon, as well as the rest of the Druids throughout the history of the Council. He was no longer Walker Boh, but he wasn't truly Allanon, or Bremen, or Galaphile. He was still Walker. So he spent the second part of his life trying to be a better person than Allanon. At first perhaps he even hoped that he could be the better Druid, but in the end he realized he couldn't.

    Allanon was the only Druid for five hundred years, perhaps in many ways the greatest Druid; but at the same time, Allanon was the worst. He guided the Races alone, but he did so through manipulation, not teaching. He fell upon the Ohmsfords for the last century or so of his life, relying on the legacy of Shannara where his own magic, the most powerful magic since Brona and his Bearers of the Skull, failed. Allanon had not gone to seers, relying on only the vague and shaded foretellings of the Hadeshorn shade of his father to guide him. He brought about the end of the Warlock Lord and Skull Kingdom, over-matched the Dagda Mor in single combat, sealed away Paranor and battled a Jachrya to the death. He led the quest for the Sword of Shannara, gave the Elfstones to the Ohmsfords in the first place and was indirectly responsible for the birth of the wishsong. He gave Brin Ohsmford the trust to carry his legacy as well as that of her forebears. That cursed Druid legacy.

    Walker lost an arm before he accepted that he would become the next Druid and he never regained it. He lost himself to the legacy of the Druid Councils. Walker, a grown man, forced to submit to the will of a dead Druid that stood for everything he wished to avoid. Everything he hated. Looking back on it, perhaps he should've come willingly. Allanon had. And Allanon had lost more than an arm before becoming a Druid. His background was never revealed to the Ohmsfords, but when Walker used the Black Elfstone to bring back Paranor, he been given Allanon's past as well as that of the whole order. Allanon's entire family was killed when he was twelve by the Warlock Lord's army toward the end of the Second War of the Races. Bremen was only an adoptive father, and Allanon was the one who did the adopting. He also asked to be a Druid against the elder Druid's advice. But he hadn't wanted to be the mystery to the Races, the manipulator of those he protected. Yet he believed there hadn't been another way. Walker had been determined to beat him there, find a way around it. He was dying now, in the arms of the Shade of Allanon, being taken to the afterlife, and realized he hadn't done so.

    Walker was not Allanon's equal by any chance. He wondered for the shortest moment what Allanon might have done in his positions and then stopped. It didn't matter. Allanon was dead and gone when all these things happened, he had relied on Walker to act for the Druids instead. Walker had done what he could, and nobody, not even Allanon, could ask for more. The man who was once Walker Boh had done his best.

    He reflected further on what he and Allanon had in common, realizing that Allanon also had felt inadaquate for his tasks. Allanon never did find another person in the world to be a Druid with him or even directly after him in his lifetime. He had to return as a Shade three hundred years after his own death to do so. Walker had marked his successor. Neither of them had been right at all points. Both of them lived their lives alone, not knowing the love of a family. Both of them acted the way they did in order to better the Races. Both used the Druid magic to protect the good things in life and both had been fatally wounded in the final battle of their lives. Allanon with a creature of a time before the Forbidding and Walker with a thing of the Great Wars. But in the end both destoryed their oppenent. Both ensured the Druids would continue. Both were the only Druid of their time, Allanon being a boy of fifteen when he realized that. Walker had spent most of his life trying not to be Allanon, but in the end he was Allanon. Perhaps a cheap mockery, he thought of himself bitterly. But he was still everything he had hated.

    As they began to submerge into the waters to the afterlife, Walker looked up at Allanon's face. The Shade of the Druid didn't look scornful or disappointed. His face was as hard as it had been in life, but his eyes revealed acceptance. Approval. Allanon was proud of his successor. Allanon was proud of the Druid Walker. Walker had spent all his life trying not to be Allanon, but he failed. He had become everything he hated, but he didn't hate the man anymore. He now, as he drew in his last breath, understood the Druid. They were two of a kind. Grianne would refound the Council, she wouldn't be a lone Druid. He and Allanon had been. The man that was Walker now closed his eyes and let the peaceful rest of death take him over. He had done well enough.

  22. Poetry

    in Inspiration

    Posted

    All I can write is tragic romance, peh.

     

    Something newer but is a few weeks old by now.

     

     

    Ice is cold,

    Her love is colder,

     

    Her eyes are deep,

    Such is my need to see her,

     

    The games I play with myself,

    Trying and reaching only the further,

     

    I cannot do it,

    I cannot sever,

     

    The link unwittingly made,

    The love I didn't discover,

     

    No, I was wrong,

    I am no master,

     

    It found me,

    Hiding only deeper,

     

    Hiding from what I knew was the truth,

    And such is the nature,

     

    Such is the nature of the heart.

     

    Also about a month old...

     

    He is wrapped in his own shadows,

    Forgetting what he might grasp,

    Haunted by only what happened,

    Suffering only the past.

     

    He loved her only too late,

    He didn't realize what he could've,

    He let his grip slip and now there is no new slate,

    Only what was and what will be.

     

    Perhaps he is wrong,

    I may have misconceived,

    But most likely it is set to song,

    And no more will it be received.

  23. Blues are not not Deep.

    in The Books

    Posted

    That seems to fit Momo and Siuan from New Spring fairly well.

     

    Although to me, blue was always overused. Blue blue blue. Heck, tonight I'm going to a football game in mostly blue. Then again... I am scatterbrained.

    Ajah wise, I think Blues are the most practical.

  25. Random VII

    in Chatterbox

    Posted

    Thom/Rand?

    Kate, we need to talk about matters of human... well... sanity. I don't even think Ishamael is that insane. Or Rand himself, and certainly not Thom. He set his sights way to high for Rand.

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