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 Posted: Fri Jul 30, 2010 10:29 am
This is a Dream Diary for Juridian Soul.
Please do not post if you are not he.
1st Post
- The Dreamer
- The Dream
- The Book
- Links
- Free
- Free
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Posted: Fri Jul 30, 2010 10:33 am
Who Am I?
Name: Seth Richard Ordain
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Personality:
Seth is a tragedian through and through - more than on the stage. He loves dark things, and his imagination plays in the realms of death and despair with gusto.
He has a HUGE imagination, at that, and will often sit and write poetry, or lines from a play that he one day hopes to have time to write.
His acting career takes up much of his time, but he still makes room in his life for reading, partying, and recording poems, dreams, and thoughts.
History:
Extra:
Thoughts:
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Posted: Fri Jul 30, 2010 10:35 am
[I will pretty this up later] To Die, Perchance To Dream... "The King wishes your company, M'lord."
The fair Ophelia spoke from the shadows, standing amidst the columns of the ruined gardens, in which Hamlet sat in contemplative thought.
"He may wish for a day to become a bird, yet flight suits him not. I will be with him by and by." he answered, waving a hand dismissively at the girl. "By and by."
"Very good, M'lord. I shall away, to tell him of this..."
She turned on her heels, and made good on her word. Hamlet heard her heels on the stone, running off to tell his father of his reluctance. He would surely hear no end of it from Cladius now. Fie! Let him speak what he will. Hamlet was no son of his, and never would be. Ah, but there were times when he missed his father...
Enough on that. He would start to cry before too long, and it would not be fit for a Prince to cry.
"Ah Horatio... my Horatio... Where could you possibly have gone?" Hamlet murmured quietly, dipping his fingers in the rainwater collected in the old fountain he was sitting on.
"Dost thou not remember thy beloved Hamlet?" he asked the noncommittal water, closing his eyes to remember the nights they had shared, and the days.
But the ruse had to be kept. It was not 'seemly' for a Prince of his caliber to be seen with other men... despite the fact that most of the monarchy could have their way with whomsoever they chose. No, Hamlet was no allowed to spread the news of Horatio's profession of love to the world, and they had to remain simple... friends. Such a pity.
A nearly heartbroken sigh slid from his lips as he rose from the old fountain, and strolled past where flowers would be in bloom, had this courtyard not been reclaimed by moss and time. The Queen, his mother, was distraught, and had not been herself, since his father died. It was only fitting. She wore robes of black, and rarely showed her face to any but him... and his uncle. Ah, but that dog! He would wish a curse on the wretch... but his heart forbade it. Such a soft heart. Some said it was a weakness...
Moving along the outside of the courtyard, he made his way up to the marble dias in the middle. Smoothing his fingertips across the broken stone railing, he remembered a time when things were simpler... when he could scarcely remember pain or conflict. When his father had still been alive.
Hamlet did not believe that nonsense about snakes in the garden for one instant. Surely, it was his heart, or too much good wine... Yet the palace physicians were both liars and serpents of their own right. They would sting any who stood in the way - and the Prince had no doubt they would sting -him- too, if any of these private thoughts came to light. No matter.
Dark thoughts of other natures raised their heads with forked tongues, hissing in his ear, vile eyes boring into his skull. He would draw his dagger, but for the fact he knew it would do no good, no harm to these serpents. They were inside his head, and no mortal hands could wrest them aside.
He bore their ire with a patient nature until they fled his mind again, curling in some dark corner. There were days where they had been writhing within him, that he could not remember what had occurred. Could HE be the one responsible for his father's death? Surely not...
Yet, there was a part of him that wondered...
With those thoughts in mind, and much more pleasant visages on Horatio's less visible parts circling around his mind, he exited the dias, and made for the landing back into the castle, calling down the hallway.
"Tell the King, his nephew comes!"
Upon which, he took off running. Must not be late for an audience with the king...
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Posted: Fri Jul 30, 2010 10:36 am
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