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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 1524773" data-attributes="member: 13681">The group trails behind Raven's scouting. The crisp air takes Oliver's breath away, but he tugs the hood of his cloak low and settles his scarf more to his satisfaction. His hands brush the tinkling charms at his cloak clasp and he snorts, smiling. He slips the clasp on the charms and wraps them around his palm, making a fist, with the charms rattling over his knobby, gloved knuckles.He gives a wink to Niccolo and begins to shake the charms in a tinkling, rythmic cascade. It's an odd time... ostensibly twelve beats, but a few measures reveal that the rocking, hitching rythym is in eleven. He begins to sing, a whispery, strained tenor suited to the slow, moody melody.There once was a teacher of great renownWhose words were like the tablets of stoneBecause it's easier to learn than unlearnBecause we've passed the point of no returnGather your goods and follow meOr you will surely dieHis voice climbs higher and he raises his head, white hair wisping out from under the voluminous hood.I was only a child of the cityMy parents were children of immigrant stockSo we followed as followers goOver a mountain with a napkin of snowAnd ate the berries and rootsThat grow along the timberlineDeeper and deeper the dreamer of love sleeps on a quilt of starsIt's coldSometimes you can't catch your breathIt's coldLower again, his rasping voice continues.Time and abundance thickened his stepSo the teacher divided in twoOne half ate the forests and fieldsThe other half sucked all the moisture from the cloudsAnd we, we were amazed at the power of his appetiteDeeper and deeper the dreamer of love sleeps on a quilt of starsHis voice builds, louder, clearer - tone overcoming raspiness as he pushes the words through a cold throat.Sometimes we don't know who we areSometimes force overpowers us and we cryMy teacher carry me homeCarry me home my teacherCarry me homeCarry me home my teacherCarry me homeHe draws the last word out and ends with a rattling of the charms. And silence. He takes a deep breath and rubs his throat before settling the hood and cloak more warmly and hooking the charms back in place.OOC: Paul Simon, off of You're the One. An excellent album.</blockquote>

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