Beneath the Ice

"Beneath the Ice" from the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Original Soundtrack

Tis a morning for nostalgia...


Color Me Softly: Tis alright, noble knight. Pray abide here a while and perchance divulge more informations to me as pertaining to your characters that I might deem what is worthy of Aisthesis.

Mania: I graciously accept your pardoning of mine absence. Perchance we might conspire inhuman abilities to delegate to mine characters, which I do strive to sculpt to become most worthy of joining those in the most noble ranks of Aisthesis.
The decision to alter our current diction and tongue into that of a more colloquial nature would be most understandable, as would the opposing action to continue with our esteemed speech for, Nay! dost our combined company dare let the mere thought of any such actions as would perchance pose as a challenge drift away from our most daunting mits. For we are made of greater things than such to let any missed opportunity as said prior occur! Narry a challenge that dares enter our midst shall go unsiezed nor accepted.

Color Me Softly: Your words are laden with truth, noble knight. Though I must admit I am quite astonished at the speech you have so beautifully dictated. Do tell, however have you come across such riveting vocabulary such as you posses? I find your choice of words quite becoming.

Mania: My most exalted Lady, oh how thou dost maketh mine cheeks turn flushed from their usual fair pallor by your praise! The nature of mine diction mayhaps can be sourced to a trio of past occurences, two of which still occur near daily: Nay, I revoke said number and replace such with the numeral of IV. The first of which being mine most eager fixation towards works of literature. Oh how mineself dost cherish bound tomes! Though of few are those of which that are inscribed with our current tongue, mayhaps less than what one can count with the fingers of one's hands hast I read. Of said manner I do mean, for I have read many a tomes! Some of said nature however are by that of the playright Shakespear, a most favorite scribe of mine. to the second cause of which: mine history with translating the deceased language of old spoken by the Romans. Our curriculum's selection of pieces that were to be translated, when done correctly and directly from the words' orignal meanings translateth to our current diction. Phrasing such of this often occers subconsciously after a long days work of study oh how mineself dost enjoy clever wordplay with mine close acquaintances! We wxchange words of such nature frequently and often spontaneously. fourthly and of last: several changing seasons ago mineself hast aquired a digital application designed for mobile cellular devices. The original location of which twould be on the internet in the domain of dictionary.com. Said application has a marvelous thesaurus function which minself dost frequently indulge in mulling over in mine spare time to feed mine hunger for a moat rich vocabulary. most rich. My deepest apologies for the length of mine second speech. When in such selection of tongue my words doth become most lengthy, even much more so than mine usual blathering self.

Color Me Softly: Bravo, noble knight, and might I indulge in a toast to you and your eloquent speech. Twas not boring at all. It has been far too long since my mind has been graced with such a delightful conversation. I have recently rekindled my desires for the English language in all its scrumptious glory of long forgotten words and speeches. Predominantly, the forefather of this rekindled love would be Les Miserables of Victor Hugo, a text of which I devotedly devour. I scour more such texts in all their long, driveling glory, for though they droll and rant, they offer such a rich language I become enraptured. Perchance my mother dearest also gave to me a delightful new dictionary of Shakespeare's words that I have dedicated myself to reading and studying all the way through. Though I do admit, I am not quite as proficient as you are, I do strive to learn and practice to achieve the ability as such you possess. Perhaps you could allow me the pleasure of picking your brain with talks such as these that I might learn from you the art of this fine craft called language.

Mania: Oh my exalted Lady! Do not put thyself below the tier of mine own verbal abilities! I shall allow no more thoughts of such become entangled in thous most fair head, for the nature of our individual vocabularies merely differs in its selection and content, not in quantity nor value! The tongue of yours which thou dost-dare I say- foolishly, declare to be lesser than mine own, is looked at from mine own eyes to be of greater worth than mine own tongue which thou dost put before thou's own. For long hast mineself looked upon thou's words with magnificent awe, for I have become ensnared by the nature of your vocabulary as you have by mine own. Therefore let us not merely look upon one another as any less than equals on the grounds of vocabulary worth. Let us divulge in mutual appreciation of the other's most choice utterings and seek to learn together!

Color Me Softly: Ah, dear one, our roles might surely now be reversed, for I see in us great potential and knowledge of the use of our vocabularies, but perhaps a title of lady and knight for myself and yourself respectively is not proper. You have all the grace and poise of a Shakespeare. The words that flow from your fingers to your keyboard and here upon my screen are whim and beauty and passion all mingled and tossed in the clouds and torrents of a world let free in art and the essence of youth. Your are a sprite, a wood elf, a nymph in your speech. Free to breathe the air and let the world hearken to the nature of your glorious prose. But I am the sailor off at sea. All storm and salt and battle. My words, though eloquent in their own way, are not fit for a stage nor a gleaming world of color and youth. I am harshness and stature, with none of your gentle poise. I may not stumble oft or fault, but I do not have your learned mind and your extensive talents. You play the words as an instrument, and I tend mind as I would sail a ship. On and on and battering a storm as I attempt to reinvent myself and find my muse of language once more. I believe, fine beauty, you may agree with me perhaps.

Mania: Many of such things you have said I doth most immediately agree with. That of which I do not believe in worth quite the sum of their stated manner, if you mayhaps shall follow my thoughts towards such, twould be directed towards the perception of mine words' nature.

Color Me Softly: I suppose I ought to pose the question: of what do you not believe in?

Mania: While I most graciously receive your elegantly stated words of praise exclaimed through a most wonderful series of naturally flowing comparisons, I must disagree with how such as thou hast stated is perceived to be the whole and honest nature of mine works. For while you describe them to be that of nature's romanticism and fantasy, they do not simply spring forth as such at first conception. Much altering of sentence order, word replacing, deletion and insertion occurs. Tis still a process I seek to advance my skill in to where I require less time to post mine works. The process of mine writing begins with the conception of raw forms, often colloquial, greater in brevity, and simplistic in concept. Often such is first created in mine own primal dialect of the deep south. I suppose the process could be compared to that of creating literal physical works of art, such as a painting. The first concept; intangible, invisible, unable to be captured in visible form until it is refined to such degree. Once what the artist desires to show the world enters the plane to which it is now capable of physical capturing, it may be presented in the raw on paper or canvas- a sketch. The general idea is laid out. To some of lesser experience, such simplicity is seen as satisfactory, but to those with more practiced minds and skilled hands can see the layers of possibility that may be laid upon it to create complex yet easily flowing work. Refined lines are placed atop the raw forms. Basic blockings of solid colors are applied to create a more defined statement, but it is still flat. The artist has yet to capture the space, value, and form of the concept yet. More layers are added, rhythm is heard, the texture of the words- soft, rough, malliable- is felt, the contrasts of structure through value is seen through illuminating and shadowing words. Although the artistic process is viewed by many to be something of beauty, to those with certain eyes-  not that I call out your perception to be naive or false, simply incomplete, as I know and have observed firsthand how you are obtaining near mastery of the craft- the process is arduous and often hard to make ones self do at times. I simply omit the visibility of mine process to most. I would be lying if I said writing was simply something that came easy to me. It is the truth when I say that I am a naturally good writer, but it doesn't take much to be good. What I strive for is to be great, not among the ranks of the greatest, but my works' forethought and devoted craft visible. Oh how I end up leading my original point astray! I shall redirect thus back to mine first statement.

Mania: Goodness how my thoughts become scattered about at times, one of such being currently.

Color Me Softly: Ah my beauty, if only I had such a patience to form my own sentences so eloquently. For within the secret of your craft that you have divulged to me, I see where my struggle lies. For I am always set upon accomplishing the improbable within the moment or the hour and not within the foreseeable future. I had not the patience in my own art, that of pencil and paper and a brush dipped in watercolor, but as I came to find that patience, so blossomed my talent most readily and noticeably. Forthwith, I shall endeavor to find patience in the art of language craftsmanship and take all you have shared to heart. And as to your last proposed point, I agree wholly that it is quite easy to become lost in the muse of prose and forget oneself in this devious art of conversation. Now I do close our gaieties with a goodnight, as I must retire abed and entrust myself to sleep. For I have a duty tomorrow at six in the morn that must be met if I wish to not bear a burden of ponies emaciated by my carelessness in not feeding or tidying them, and I am in the need of currency and my tending of aforementioned equestrians provides my earnings. So now I bid you adieu and bonsoir.

Mania: Multis gratis, meus amicam. One difference I have noticed between our words is how you are able to capture broad conceptions in narrow space without losing their magnitude, while I amble about such in round about manners when they could be like your eloquent brevity. I wish you a bene nocturna meus amicam.

Color Me Softly: Bene nocturna.

Ermg.

And that was all written in those little tiny cboxes where you only had like 15 words at a time D:

This was all done around the time Aisthesis was first being made. Apparently I saved this conversation somewhere in its middle while Mania and I were going on and on. My goodness.

If my brain wasn't melted down, I could probably write like that again...