Geeky
Chapter 27: The Drunk Man
Later they did not choose the last sentence for him, but the most touching one.
It is very charming to add human emotions to poetry. It is different from the sound of the pure melody of the blood race that seems to be played strictly according to the fictional score. It is a changing and fluctuating sound, sometimes low, sometimes high, sometimes hoarse, sometimes long, as you like , but always moving.
Later, Su Shi got drunk.
They could all see that he was drunk.
Although he doesn't know it himself.
He held the collection of poems motionless, as if he suddenly couldn't figure out how words worked.
Poetry becomes like this in his eyes:
quiet.exist.I.Will.flat.That.inside.some.have to,
because.for.quiet.flat.hour.Xu.land.Xu.drop.Down.Yes, come.
drop.Down.Come.clear.from.screen.morning.Of.inside,
arrive.That.cricket.Song.have.of.land.cricket.Sing.Square; [1]
He rubbed his eyes, but the words didn't line up neatly.
He tried to read it again, then raised his head and said innocently:
"Misprinted."
They graciously gave him another volume of poetry.
He watched it for a long time, so long that he forgot what he was going to do.So I put the book on the coffee table, suspecting that I had been sitting for too long, and prepared to stand up and move around.
But the place felt strange to him, reminding him that he was here for a reason.
He covers his eyes—
Let me think, what am I doing here?Dry……
Balaam?
Yes, Balaam.
I want to get him.
because……
Because I still want to eat his small biscuits.
He put his hands down and scanned the room.
They looked at him, motionless as if they were a living statue.
Every vampire looks exactly the same, with jet-black hair, jet-black eyes, pale and delicate face, wearing a dress that is gorgeous even in a single color.
Su Shi walked towards the nearest one.
It was a very unnatural face. The high nose bridge and thin cheeks had a cold taste, but the lips were sweeter than flower petals.
He touched his face and laughed:
"Cool."
He thought they were statues.
Balaam looked tense, stiff as wood.
They laughed at Balaam inwardly.
But when he came over and walked in front of them, they realized that anyone would be nervous.
In the heat of drunkenness, in the slight warmth of early summer, it is indeed a very comfortable thing to touch the smooth, cool and clean face of the nobleman.It feels good, touching people makes him happy.
He touched all the vampires present here.
Su Shi opened the iron "geometric plant curtain" and came to the other side of the afternoon tea room.There are many plant stands symmetrically placed on the four sides, covered with lily pads, or many scattered and regular drop-shaped glass vases, or glass cups like round cake boxes, covered with moss lawns Or small bluestones, planted with shrub-like ferns, put in the quaint towers made of miniature stone carvings, which look like microscopic hillsides and small forests... All these are amazing at first glance. Bright, and the miniature plant landscape bottles scattered with all kinds of works of art that have been meticulously carved by gardeners are even more thoughtful, and you must stop for it.All of this is beautiful enough, but it seems to be just to set off his existence, and the landscape vases placed around him make him feel like a dream.
He stood in front of the shelf, staring at the glass cup for a long time, then lifted the lid and poked the moss lawn with his finger to confirm that it was a real plant.
He staggered as he spun away, and three or four blood races stood up involuntarily.
He stood firm again.
Like stroking a big dog, I caressed a tree of lilies beside me, pushed open the glass door, and walked onto the large terrace, where the light yellow roses covered the fence like a thick blanket.
He leaned forward unceremoniously, his waist sank into the flowers, and crushed a lot of yellow wood fragrance.The petals of those flowers are as bright as icy amber, and now they have found a better destination than withering.Other flowers will envy them too.
When he lowered his head to take out a cigarette, they all felt for the lighter in his arms, or put their hands in their pockets and squeezed tightly.But he decided it was best not to, and put down the cigarette again.Their tensed arms relaxed again.
There are many pairs of eyes staring at him like a fog of dreams.
His figure is straight, his legs are slightly crossed, and he looks graceful in the wind, like a cedar tree reflected in the water.
He inserted his fingers into the hairline, and wiped the loose hair back. Before his fingers left, he turned his face to look this way, showed a perfect smile unintentionally, and then turned his head away.The smile was so fleeting that it was forever etched in memory.
At this time, the door of the afternoon tea room opened quietly, and a servant walked in.
He came to the place where he was supposed to be, but he felt uneasy about the silence of the room, all the people and things that seemed to be frozen in time.It wasn't until Balaam made a gesture that he stood aside, holding a black book covered with feathers, and began to read poetry in his voice like a pale flame:
"O people, I am as beautiful as a stone dream,
My heart that scars everyone sooner or later
Always ready to excite the poet's tenderness,
That tenderness is as eternal as matter and never speaks..."
He went indoors again.When approaching them, it seemed as if they would turn into a wisp of green smoke and drift away at any moment.
He stood up behind a wrought iron geometric glass curtain.
He rediscovered the curtain—
The small multi-faceted geometric glass bodies are linked together by beads by black iron chains, and they fall from the ceiling sparsely, forming a barrier like a door curtain.Triangular, prismatic or other polygonal transparent glass is inlaid on the wrought iron frame, making each glass geometry look like prismatic gemstones with shiny facets.Some of these "gems" are as big as wine glasses, and some are as big as lamps. Each bottom is filled with a pinch of small white stones or black soil, and small plants are planted in them - crystal grass, green halo, staghorn crabapple, small ball rose... Most of them are not rare species, but somehow they are more delicate and compact than the usual ones, and their colors are more pure.
——Discover the joy of looking at them across it.
"Like a mysterious sphinx I tower toward the sky;
Combining a crystal-clear snow-like heart with a swan-like innocence;
I hate the artificial lifelikeness of moving lines,
I will never have a face full of tears, and I will never have a face full of smiles..."
On the side of his face, there is a rhombus-shaped geometric gemstone. One cut surface is hollowed out without inlaid glass. It is used to ventilate and water the plants. The slender leaves of bluegrass protrude from it.
He hid his eyes behind the bluegrass, and his lips curved mysteriously.
He plucked the bluegrass with his fingers, as if plucking the strings in one direction.
Staring at them in the changing gaps of Ye, as if they were in his dream.
Didn't know he looked more like the man in the dream.
"Facing me as if imitating the most awe-inspiring monumental statue
The dignified posture that comes, the poets will have
Spent their time in assiduous pondering..."
Like a cup of stars, the shadow of bluegrass swayed in his eyes.
The shaking seems to be his eyes...
He laughed for no apparent reason, and they also laughed for no apparent reason.
Shi Shi read the last paragraph of "Beauty":
"...to charm these docile lovers,
I have my own mirror that makes all things appear more beautiful;
Those are my eyes, my big eyes that are always burning brightly! "
If he had been a child, they would have rubbed his head and scolded him reproachfully:
You disturbing child.
Look at you, how beautiful you are.
At this time, the butler Freeman walked into the room again, walked up to him, and carried a small tray with sweet papaya soup for sobering up, and a few round, fresh horseshoes that had been peeled off. He didn't say anything yet. He took the initiative to sit down on the chair and looked at the old housekeeper.
Freeman put the tray on the coffee table and thoughtfully passed the spoon to his hand.
He ate it sleepily.
Balaam got up suddenly and walked out of the afternoon tea room, Louis followed.
The door was closed.
Balan said, "About Mino Fan..."
He stopped talking, frowning slightly.
Louis asked, "What do you want him to do, Balaam?"
"I don't know, I'm not sure." Balaam raised a hand to his chin, and pressed his index finger to his lips.
"You want him to be your 'lover'?"
"Lover" is just a sentimental title, and its secret aliases are also called "blood donor", "slave" and "human sheep".
"Lover" is very popular among vampires, it is not the kind of relationship referred to in human society.Since the "Blood Clan Law" stipulated that blood clans cannot drink human blood, blood clans who want to enjoy "delicacy" have found another way, replacing "breeding" with "nurture" and "human sheep" and "blood slaves" with "lover", but in fact , in fact, only the form or title has changed, but in essence, the nobles still pay a certain amount of material, so that human beings can provide them with blood on a regular basis.
The physiology of the blood race is not exactly the same as that of human beings, and the sex/desire of the blood race needs blood to be stimulated.For example, blood men do not have a "morning erection". Even if they desire a sex/thing in their hearts, their bodies cannot be fully erected.The only way to awaken the desire of the flesh is to "exchange blood".The vampires don't just suck the blood of humans, they also suck the blood of the same kind, but the meanings of the two are completely different.Among vampires, sucking blood is a very intimate thing, even more erotic than kissing.If a husband catches his wife biting another male's neck, or is being bitten, then he knows he has green patches on his head.
According to the latest "Blood Clan Law", under no circumstances should a vampire drink human blood, even if he has permission from humans.
But the law defines smoking as "the act of inserting teeth into human skin and eating blood from it".
So some nobles played word games and called human beings "lover", so their behavior of sucking blood from human beings was no longer "eating" but "flirting".
"I didn't mean to suck his blood, Louie..."
Balaam was confused, "I'm not saying I don't like his blood..."
But what is it for if it is not for blood?
He likes his blood, but doesn't want to suck his blood; he doesn't want to suck his blood, but wants to have him.
So what does he want from him?
Balaam knew that Louis would not understand, after all, even he himself could not understand.It was impossible for Louie to grasp what he didn't know.
Louis said clearly: "So you want him to be your lover."
Balaam affirmed, "No."
They all seemed to mistakenly think they liked Mino, but Balaam knew that wasn't the case.
Mino liked Atossa, so he wouldn't do such a self-inflicted thing.
"I want him..."
"You want him to be close to you."
Louie changed his expression.
"That's it."
[1] "I'll have some peace there, for when peace trickles down,
Drops from the veil of morning, to where the crickets sing;" by Yeats
※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※
I found that when some readers want to give me opinions, they will throw a thunderbolt to protect themselves first.The feeling of writing is different from the feeling of reading. I have no way of knowing exactly what it feels like to read the novel I wrote, because technical issues have to be considered, which will interfere with the evaluation of pure reading feeling.When I was writing, when arranging the plot, I considered the concentration of the plot, details, stalks, and the precision of the scene design in a chapter... After some readers told me, I realized that I had neglected the element of time in the novel...
emmmmm... This auxiliary plot is almost finished, and it’s too late to delete the plot_(:з」∠)_ I have to mix it first
It is very charming to add human emotions to poetry. It is different from the sound of the pure melody of the blood race that seems to be played strictly according to the fictional score. It is a changing and fluctuating sound, sometimes low, sometimes high, sometimes hoarse, sometimes long, as you like , but always moving.
Later, Su Shi got drunk.
They could all see that he was drunk.
Although he doesn't know it himself.
He held the collection of poems motionless, as if he suddenly couldn't figure out how words worked.
Poetry becomes like this in his eyes:
quiet.exist.I.Will.flat.That.inside.some.have to,
because.for.quiet.flat.hour.Xu.land.Xu.drop.Down.Yes, come.
drop.Down.Come.clear.from.screen.morning.Of.inside,
arrive.That.cricket.Song.have.of.land.cricket.Sing.Square; [1]
He rubbed his eyes, but the words didn't line up neatly.
He tried to read it again, then raised his head and said innocently:
"Misprinted."
They graciously gave him another volume of poetry.
He watched it for a long time, so long that he forgot what he was going to do.So I put the book on the coffee table, suspecting that I had been sitting for too long, and prepared to stand up and move around.
But the place felt strange to him, reminding him that he was here for a reason.
He covers his eyes—
Let me think, what am I doing here?Dry……
Balaam?
Yes, Balaam.
I want to get him.
because……
Because I still want to eat his small biscuits.
He put his hands down and scanned the room.
They looked at him, motionless as if they were a living statue.
Every vampire looks exactly the same, with jet-black hair, jet-black eyes, pale and delicate face, wearing a dress that is gorgeous even in a single color.
Su Shi walked towards the nearest one.
It was a very unnatural face. The high nose bridge and thin cheeks had a cold taste, but the lips were sweeter than flower petals.
He touched his face and laughed:
"Cool."
He thought they were statues.
Balaam looked tense, stiff as wood.
They laughed at Balaam inwardly.
But when he came over and walked in front of them, they realized that anyone would be nervous.
In the heat of drunkenness, in the slight warmth of early summer, it is indeed a very comfortable thing to touch the smooth, cool and clean face of the nobleman.It feels good, touching people makes him happy.
He touched all the vampires present here.
Su Shi opened the iron "geometric plant curtain" and came to the other side of the afternoon tea room.There are many plant stands symmetrically placed on the four sides, covered with lily pads, or many scattered and regular drop-shaped glass vases, or glass cups like round cake boxes, covered with moss lawns Or small bluestones, planted with shrub-like ferns, put in the quaint towers made of miniature stone carvings, which look like microscopic hillsides and small forests... All these are amazing at first glance. Bright, and the miniature plant landscape bottles scattered with all kinds of works of art that have been meticulously carved by gardeners are even more thoughtful, and you must stop for it.All of this is beautiful enough, but it seems to be just to set off his existence, and the landscape vases placed around him make him feel like a dream.
He stood in front of the shelf, staring at the glass cup for a long time, then lifted the lid and poked the moss lawn with his finger to confirm that it was a real plant.
He staggered as he spun away, and three or four blood races stood up involuntarily.
He stood firm again.
Like stroking a big dog, I caressed a tree of lilies beside me, pushed open the glass door, and walked onto the large terrace, where the light yellow roses covered the fence like a thick blanket.
He leaned forward unceremoniously, his waist sank into the flowers, and crushed a lot of yellow wood fragrance.The petals of those flowers are as bright as icy amber, and now they have found a better destination than withering.Other flowers will envy them too.
When he lowered his head to take out a cigarette, they all felt for the lighter in his arms, or put their hands in their pockets and squeezed tightly.But he decided it was best not to, and put down the cigarette again.Their tensed arms relaxed again.
There are many pairs of eyes staring at him like a fog of dreams.
His figure is straight, his legs are slightly crossed, and he looks graceful in the wind, like a cedar tree reflected in the water.
He inserted his fingers into the hairline, and wiped the loose hair back. Before his fingers left, he turned his face to look this way, showed a perfect smile unintentionally, and then turned his head away.The smile was so fleeting that it was forever etched in memory.
At this time, the door of the afternoon tea room opened quietly, and a servant walked in.
He came to the place where he was supposed to be, but he felt uneasy about the silence of the room, all the people and things that seemed to be frozen in time.It wasn't until Balaam made a gesture that he stood aside, holding a black book covered with feathers, and began to read poetry in his voice like a pale flame:
"O people, I am as beautiful as a stone dream,
My heart that scars everyone sooner or later
Always ready to excite the poet's tenderness,
That tenderness is as eternal as matter and never speaks..."
He went indoors again.When approaching them, it seemed as if they would turn into a wisp of green smoke and drift away at any moment.
He stood up behind a wrought iron geometric glass curtain.
He rediscovered the curtain—
The small multi-faceted geometric glass bodies are linked together by beads by black iron chains, and they fall from the ceiling sparsely, forming a barrier like a door curtain.Triangular, prismatic or other polygonal transparent glass is inlaid on the wrought iron frame, making each glass geometry look like prismatic gemstones with shiny facets.Some of these "gems" are as big as wine glasses, and some are as big as lamps. Each bottom is filled with a pinch of small white stones or black soil, and small plants are planted in them - crystal grass, green halo, staghorn crabapple, small ball rose... Most of them are not rare species, but somehow they are more delicate and compact than the usual ones, and their colors are more pure.
——Discover the joy of looking at them across it.
"Like a mysterious sphinx I tower toward the sky;
Combining a crystal-clear snow-like heart with a swan-like innocence;
I hate the artificial lifelikeness of moving lines,
I will never have a face full of tears, and I will never have a face full of smiles..."
On the side of his face, there is a rhombus-shaped geometric gemstone. One cut surface is hollowed out without inlaid glass. It is used to ventilate and water the plants. The slender leaves of bluegrass protrude from it.
He hid his eyes behind the bluegrass, and his lips curved mysteriously.
He plucked the bluegrass with his fingers, as if plucking the strings in one direction.
Staring at them in the changing gaps of Ye, as if they were in his dream.
Didn't know he looked more like the man in the dream.
"Facing me as if imitating the most awe-inspiring monumental statue
The dignified posture that comes, the poets will have
Spent their time in assiduous pondering..."
Like a cup of stars, the shadow of bluegrass swayed in his eyes.
The shaking seems to be his eyes...
He laughed for no apparent reason, and they also laughed for no apparent reason.
Shi Shi read the last paragraph of "Beauty":
"...to charm these docile lovers,
I have my own mirror that makes all things appear more beautiful;
Those are my eyes, my big eyes that are always burning brightly! "
If he had been a child, they would have rubbed his head and scolded him reproachfully:
You disturbing child.
Look at you, how beautiful you are.
At this time, the butler Freeman walked into the room again, walked up to him, and carried a small tray with sweet papaya soup for sobering up, and a few round, fresh horseshoes that had been peeled off. He didn't say anything yet. He took the initiative to sit down on the chair and looked at the old housekeeper.
Freeman put the tray on the coffee table and thoughtfully passed the spoon to his hand.
He ate it sleepily.
Balaam got up suddenly and walked out of the afternoon tea room, Louis followed.
The door was closed.
Balan said, "About Mino Fan..."
He stopped talking, frowning slightly.
Louis asked, "What do you want him to do, Balaam?"
"I don't know, I'm not sure." Balaam raised a hand to his chin, and pressed his index finger to his lips.
"You want him to be your 'lover'?"
"Lover" is just a sentimental title, and its secret aliases are also called "blood donor", "slave" and "human sheep".
"Lover" is very popular among vampires, it is not the kind of relationship referred to in human society.Since the "Blood Clan Law" stipulated that blood clans cannot drink human blood, blood clans who want to enjoy "delicacy" have found another way, replacing "breeding" with "nurture" and "human sheep" and "blood slaves" with "lover", but in fact , in fact, only the form or title has changed, but in essence, the nobles still pay a certain amount of material, so that human beings can provide them with blood on a regular basis.
The physiology of the blood race is not exactly the same as that of human beings, and the sex/desire of the blood race needs blood to be stimulated.For example, blood men do not have a "morning erection". Even if they desire a sex/thing in their hearts, their bodies cannot be fully erected.The only way to awaken the desire of the flesh is to "exchange blood".The vampires don't just suck the blood of humans, they also suck the blood of the same kind, but the meanings of the two are completely different.Among vampires, sucking blood is a very intimate thing, even more erotic than kissing.If a husband catches his wife biting another male's neck, or is being bitten, then he knows he has green patches on his head.
According to the latest "Blood Clan Law", under no circumstances should a vampire drink human blood, even if he has permission from humans.
But the law defines smoking as "the act of inserting teeth into human skin and eating blood from it".
So some nobles played word games and called human beings "lover", so their behavior of sucking blood from human beings was no longer "eating" but "flirting".
"I didn't mean to suck his blood, Louie..."
Balaam was confused, "I'm not saying I don't like his blood..."
But what is it for if it is not for blood?
He likes his blood, but doesn't want to suck his blood; he doesn't want to suck his blood, but wants to have him.
So what does he want from him?
Balaam knew that Louis would not understand, after all, even he himself could not understand.It was impossible for Louie to grasp what he didn't know.
Louis said clearly: "So you want him to be your lover."
Balaam affirmed, "No."
They all seemed to mistakenly think they liked Mino, but Balaam knew that wasn't the case.
Mino liked Atossa, so he wouldn't do such a self-inflicted thing.
"I want him..."
"You want him to be close to you."
Louie changed his expression.
"That's it."
[1] "I'll have some peace there, for when peace trickles down,
Drops from the veil of morning, to where the crickets sing;" by Yeats
※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※
I found that when some readers want to give me opinions, they will throw a thunderbolt to protect themselves first.The feeling of writing is different from the feeling of reading. I have no way of knowing exactly what it feels like to read the novel I wrote, because technical issues have to be considered, which will interfere with the evaluation of pure reading feeling.When I was writing, when arranging the plot, I considered the concentration of the plot, details, stalks, and the precision of the scene design in a chapter... After some readers told me, I realized that I had neglected the element of time in the novel...
emmmmm... This auxiliary plot is almost finished, and it’s too late to delete the plot_(:з」∠)_ I have to mix it first
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