#this is supposed to be my take on Raskolnikov and his sister

[tootditoot]

It is the time of month again where I resist the temptation of buying a complete set of Dostoevsky's books

[astralartefact]

Crym and Punishment Sometimes murder is allowed as a treat. (Not for you though, peasant)

Nobody knows who Crym is so just pretend she's 2P and call this piece 2Crime 2Punishment... Incidentally a good alternate name for Yorda Hark Adopadypse

There's this funny thing about Y:DA that plagues my mind ever since I noticed it. I won't go into their context, but there are several nods and references to CrimePun in Y:DA like for starters

Konogg distracts the player with a silver watch just like Raskolnikov before he murders a woman

Glagg grows delirious and paranoid after his 'perfect plan' causes an unplanned death just like Raskolnikov after he murders a woman's sister

Themes of Social Hierarchies and Atonement

and of course

There is a quest literally called Crime & Punishment

and once you notice that you might start to see certain things about the story that will clear up to you that Yoko Taro is a crazy person wtf wtf wtf. Here? Here out of all places? Right in front of my Quirky Video Game Cross-Over?? Did you really think anybody would take this seriously enough to notice any of this???

And I'm perfectly fine with being that guy who shouts into the void that "actually Y:DA is the best, just read this 15-page essay I wrote about how this thing and this thing actually reference a book you don't care about and then three jumps of moon logic later we find ourselves discussing the social mobility of minorities and video games as an art form because I guess that's my life now" only to be told "Bro, It's not that deep" - There is just one problem:

The quest is not called "Crime & Punishment" in Japanese. It's vaguely resembling it in a "X and Y" scheme, but as far as I can tell (using google) it's only called Crime and Punishment in English and German (not in French though) which means my case for "this is defo on purpose" - the only metric of good writing besides "did i like it" - is relying on interpreting a piece of media, which as we all know is not a thing you do with video games.

This situation however also means that one of the following has to be true:

YT meant to do all these CrimePun references and expected people to pick up on them without namedropping the book and the Eng & Ger Localisations knew that (bc of translation notes or something like that) and added a direct reference bc the original quest name was similar anyways.

YT didn't mean to do that and the Eng & Ger Localisations either on their own or together realized that Y:DA had parallels to the book and decided to write CrimePun references into this quest line on their own.

This is just a massive coincidence and everybody involved referenced themes and details of a book that was then also mentioned in two seperate translations by name purely on accident.

Needless to say it's definitely the last one which makes me boo boo the fool as we all know Yoko Taro is a loser and has never used subtext in his life. But if I were ever able to ask him and/or the localisation (who kind of have to know bc they translated it) anything, I would ask them if Y:DA is referencing this book on purpose or not... (YT wouldn't answer that and laugh at me. And then he would call the cops to get me out of his house.)

Anyways, some final notes:

For the background I painted over a woodcut print of the Pulkovo Observatory bc I was lazy and backgrounds are hard. I will accept the withdrawal of my 'Mediocre Art Hobbyist' card for the sin of not being a real artist

Crym's outfit is supposed to resemble Raskolnikov's with his stupid little hat, but we all know that guy's clothes would not color match

....i am indeed actively working on a y:da video essay... i'm sorry in advance... i don't even care about anybody watching it i just want to talk about my favorite piece of video game ever (yes it has gotten that bad please call help)

[kikizoshi]

Why Fyodor Believes Himself Justified in Killing Children: A 'Crime and Punishment' Correlation

This is just something I noticed rereading Crime and Punishment, and because I've always thought of Fyodor's reason for, essentially, killing that little girl in front of Kunikida, well, it was obviously to create a mental problem for him, but I kept asking myself, "how could he justify killing a little girl for that, even if it was important to his plan, when she was innocent?" I came to the conclusion almost immediately, mostly because of his expression in the manga panels below and what he'd said thus far, that he didn't feel good killing her, but it was Right in his mind, because her life would have been a miserable, sinful one, and to die even before she turned seven (for why that age specifically, see: Ivan Karamazov's children rant, "Children while they are quite little—up to seven, for instance—are so remote from grown‐up people; they are different creatures, as it were, of a different species."), before the age where sin can truly manifest, he would therefore be saving her from a worse fate. So while he isn't happy about killing a child, and takes no pleasure in it, he nevertheless sees it as for the best (both because her soul is now free of this wretched world, and Kunikida's mind is damaged like he needs).

This quote below reminded me of my conclusion, and I think makes a pretty good example of that kind of thinking.

Raskolnikov, the main character of Crime and Punishment, had just, probably, saved a young girl (probably around fourteen to sixteen? but they're not sure) from being "taken advantage of" while she was either drunk or drugged, I'm not sure (she had already been raped before that, it's clear, but he saved her from it happening again on the street). She wasn't in her right mind, and he just saved her, and gave the cop he left to look after her essentially the last change in his pocket, to make sure she could take a cab safely to where she lived. Since that was his last bit of change, however, he immediately started berating himself, confused as to why he would do such a useless thing. This is what's directly after:

'In spite of those strange words he felt very wretched. He sat down on the deserted seat. His thoughts strayed aimlessly.... He found it hard to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longed to forget himself altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life anew....

“Poor girl!” he said, looking at the empty corner where she had sat—“She will come to herself and weep, and then her mother will find out.... She will give her a beating, a horrible, shameful beating and then maybe, turn her out of doors.... And even if she does not, the Darya Frantsovnas [prostitute recruiter, I think] will get wind of it, and the girl will soon be slipping out on the sly here and there. Then there will be the hospital directly (that’s always the luck of those girls with respectable mothers, who go wrong on the sly) and then... again the hospital... drink... the taverns... and more hospital, in two or three years—a wreck, and her life over at eighteen or nineteen.... Have not I seen cases like that? And how have they been brought to it? Why, they’ve all come to it like that. Ugh! But what does it matter? That’s as it should be, they tell us. A certain percentage, they tell us, must every year go... that way... to the devil, I suppose, so that the rest may remain chaste, and not be interfered with. A percentage! What splendid words they have; they are so scientific, so consolatory.... Once you’ve said ‘percentage’ there’s nothing more to worry about. If we had any other word... maybe we might feel more uneasy.... But what if Dounia [Raskolnikov's sister] were one of the percentage! Of another one if not that one?"'

Here's the full chapter if anyone's interested.

I was reminded of Fyodor's expression here in this scene, because that Crime and Punishment passage was a good example of what I already felt Fyodor believed.

And here as well:

Both scenes are the only time I think we've seen Fyodor have a genuine reaction to the deaths he's caused (probably because they're children, not yet entirely sunken into the world's sin, yet having been born, still too old to be saved in this life), and he has a similar reaction each time. Ah, and by "genuine" I don't mean that he was entirely ingenuine the other times he's killed. I just mean that, well, he's usually wearing a figurative mask, and he doesn't seem to be in either of the instances where he's killing the children, so I think it's a good stepping-off point for what he's really like without all the lies and manipulation.

Boat Boy, or Karma, had a similar fate awaiting him as the little girl. Karma's life was as low as he could probably be, and he had no way of climbing out, and there wasn't really any light at the end of the tunnel, no salvation in sight. His biggest hope was a pipe dream upon which's realisation—in such an unrealistic world where it would come true—would only serve to entrench him further in the world's evil and sin.

The little girl was similar. Considering her adult figure was the type of guy to use armed children (and his siblings at that) as distractions to escape on his own, and she herself was doomed to grow up a criminal, her life wouldn't have had any hope for its future.

Fyodor saved them, Karma and the little girl, from that fate. I don't know if his Ability had anything to do with cleansing their souls or something—that's another, super involved discussion—but I do think he genuinely felt like, though not a good outcome, it was the best that he could have done for those two children.

Not that he's right.

And, yeah, that's about it. It's definitely worth bringing up Ivan Karamazov's whole children rant, but that's another book, and it would just take a lot more time overall to pick out quotes, explain exactly what Ivan was saying and how it relates to Fyodor, and this is just meant to be a quick post.

This is the chapter where Ivan Karamazov talks extensively about children, the cruelties committed against them, etc. if anyone's interested. Please be warned that it's fairly triggering.

It can be (somewhat) summed up in this early, non-triggering quote from Ivan:

"But, in the first place, children can be loved even at close quarters, even when they are dirty, even when they are ugly (I fancy, though, children never are ugly). The second reason why I won’t speak of grown‐up people is that, besides being disgusting and unworthy of love, they have a compensation—they’ve eaten the apple and know good and evil, and they have become ‘like gods.’ They go on eating it still. But the children haven’t eaten anything, and are so far innocent."

(I want to note that I don't base all of my understanding of Fyodor's beliefs on what Ivan Karamazov believes, I just think some of what Ivan Karamazov believes lines up with what Fyodor would probably believe.)

[hamliet]

Hello hamliet! I wanted to know what you think about Sonya Marmeladova or her relationship with Raskolnikov. She's one of my favourite characters in the book and it seems like people love to ignore her entire existence although she was present (subtly) since the beginning of the book to make Raz/Ras seem way more... complex and important to Raskolnikov than all of his relationship with Sonya. I'm not against Ras/Raz but both of them were very important to Raskolnikov and it's frustrating to see people reduce her just to some random christian girl that is just there to fix Raskolnikov, although while being mentioned even before Razumihin and and being intertwined with his story through her family and.. everything else very tightly

I LOVE Sonia!!

Wait... is this a shipping thing? Or an analysis thing? I've never heard this and am kind of scared lol. (But Sonia and Raskolnikov are one of the best literary couples ever.)

But anyways. Sonia is very important to the book, and I have written this about her role and her foiling with Dunya. I'd actually argue that while Dunya and Razumikhin are extremely important to the novel and to Raskolnikov, the two characters who represent Raskolnikov's future paths are Sonia (suffering but redemption through others) and Svidrigailov (wallowing in your own suffering). Sonia's path is life; Svidrigailov's is suicide. I know other critics have written on this as well...

Dunya and Razumikhin represent family and reason, both of which Raskolnikov has kind of alienated himself from when he murders Alyona and Lizaveta. Of course, it's not so easy to alienate himself from family/reason as you might think--but the reason for that is the same as the reason Raskolnikov and Sonia connect in the first place: empathy.

Raskolnikov is probably the first person who actually acknowledges Sonia's predicament and her as a human being, not as a holy Madonna/whore mix saving them (Katerina) or as a person to be pitied but not helped (Marmeladov, who struggles with his own demons). He invites her to sit with his mother and sister, showing that he doesn't see her as dirty for her job (an invitation such as that was very taboo back then). He bows down to her as representative of all the suffering in humanity, sure, but in doing so he's acknowledging that what she's been forced into is not right, that her supposed "sin" is far less than the world that forced her to have no other option. He acknowledges her suffering, her experiences, not just the results or reasons.

Raskolnikov also challenges her, by telling her that she's betrayed herself for nothing--which is both cruel and in some ways, true, but truer for himself than for Sonia. Because at least Sonia was motivated by empathy, by love for others, which the novel does hold up as important; at the novel's core is this paradox: society may corrupt, but without connection human beings go mad.

Yet, Sonia is not just there to redeem Raskolnikov--one can get that impression with a surface-level reading, but not if one digs into the layers of the story. She never harms herself to save him--the work of redemption is all on Raskolnikov. Sonia holds out a hand, but he has to decide whether or not to take it. Furthermore, it is more mutual than that: Sonia too is able to leave prostitution in the end, and to take charge of her own life instead of living for others alone.

Reason alone wasn't enough to dismantle Raskolnikov's twisted theories, nor was the love of his family. But combined, as seen in the union of Dunya and Razumikhin, and with the courage to face suffering that Sonia embodies, Raskolnikov is able to cling to that lifeline and pull himself to becoming a better man. Especially when confronted with the reality that she loves him despite what he did to Lizaveta, that she truly--unlike Razumikhin and Dunya--knows the effects of his crime (because Lizaveta was her good friend), and still forgives and follows him to Siberia--it's that Christlike love that fills Raskolnikov with hope.

[spicycreativity]

Fanfic Appreciation Week Day 7: A Place Where I Can Breathe

Yes, folks, I'm appreciating my own darn fanfic for the final day of Fanfic Appreciation Week because I worked really hard on it and it was a labor of love for/with one of my QPPs, my roommate, the man who got me into Sanders Sides: @\cadeorade-powercade (That's him in the aesthetic board)

Allow me to present the director's commentary for A Place Where I Can Breathe:

Content Warnings: All content warnings mentioned in the fic apply.

Chapter 1: I actually wrote this fairly late in the game. It's meant to serve as a prologue and orient the viewer in the universe, s opposed to staring on Chapter 2, which just throws the viewer in without context. I think it was a good choice, as it also allowed me to introduce the concept of the Sides having power focuses early on.

The Premise: Cade is a Virgil stan and he was getting frustrated looking for Virgil fic. He was finding a lot of stuff written without nuance by young authors, a sort of "by teenagers for teenagers" type deal. We are not teenagers, so we both have a hard time relating to that kind of teen angst fic, as we're not the target audience. So he asked me to write him a Virgil fic and we worked together to identify what plot he wanted, what the Mindscape looked like, and what quirks the Sides have. So a lot of this fic is quite gratuitous and self-indulgent

The Title: Lizzie McAlpine has a song called "Apple Pie" which includes the lyric "I've been running around trying to find a place where I can breathe." Apple Pie SCREAMS Moceit to me, and I had taken notice of the lyric and wanted to use it as the title for a Moceit fic. I didn't really have an idea beyond that, and when Cade asked me to write this fic, I realized it was actually perfect and summed up Virgil's inner struggle quite nicely. So cheers to "A Place Where I Can Breathe," the Moceit Fic That Wasn't

-Cade asked me specifically to include Virgil having a spider and I wrote nearly the whole fic without doing so, then had to go back and sprinkle some references in. I think I managed 2 total.

Chapter 2:

"Uh, how about I hold off on that until I actually see my room?" Virgil stared expectantly at Roman, who bounced on his toes. "Lead on, Macduff."

"That's not the line and you know it," Roman complained, but he turned to lead Virgil to his room. "It's ' lay on, Macduff,' and--"

-This fic was originally supposed to reach a climax with a confrontation between Remus and Roman, and "lay on, Macduff" would come back as a brick joke. Unfortunately, the original ending was a result of me getting tired and lazy, so I had to go back and fix it, and we lost the Roman-Remus confrontation.

It was hard for Virgil to not shudder at the sudden heat and weight on him. With his senses already open and taking in more information than his brain seemed to want to process, touch was an added stressor, more unwanted sensory input.

-Virgil being touch-averse is a direct shoutout to Cade, who is also touch-averse.

Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV.

-Upon first writing, Virgil had already given the upstairs crew his name, so the banner spelled out "VIRIGL" which is way funnier than "ANXEITY." But then his name reveal became a plot point so I had to go back and change it.

-Let! Virgil! Be! Mean!

-Virgil's line about hearing refrigerator noise when Roman talks is another shout-out to Cade, who has leveled that accusation at me

A small, cruel part of him protested at the idea that he would need special treatment and desperately wanted to throw it back in Patton's face. He wasn't a sweetheart, he wasn't a baby. He didn't need to crawl into a blanket fort with Dad just because he was a little stressed.

-Remus calls Janus "Janus Geminus" because I was tired and couldn't come up with a pun. "Geminus" is one of the Roman god Janus' epithets; another is "Pater" meaning "Father." That led to a conversation about Remus deliberately confusing Patton by calling Janus "Daddy," but I couldn't think of a clean way to fit the explanation into the narrative, so I stuck with "Geminus."

Chapter 3:

"There's nothing normal about that! " Roman stared in horror at the coffee massacre Virgil had orchestrated. What had once been a respectable (if not very tasty) cup of black coffee was now part of a 1:1 coffee to milk suspension, the liquid a tasteful shade of tan suitable for business casual trousers or a show-ready chihuahua.

-Cade is a certified Nightmare Man and came up with Virgil's horrifying coffee order after I asked him about it. Keep an eye out for Janus' equally horrifying coffee order later in the fic.

1) Shouts out the fact that Janus is canonically a Dostoevsky fan

Chapter 4:

Janus smiled at him. "Where reason fails, the Devil helps." He fussed with his gloves and straightened his capelet. "It's showtime."

-I fucking love Crime and Punishment. Look at me. Look at me. I fucking love Crime and Punishment. Janus' quoting Raskolnikov serves multiple purposes:

2) Lampshades the fact that Roman just conveniently happened to be alone in the living room, because I didn't want to waste time getting him there. That makes me, the author, the Devil

3) Foreshadows the impending disaster. When Raskolnikov says this line it is because he had planned to commit axe murder. The axe he was planning to steal had been moved, but he finds another, different axe to use. Raskolnikov messes up the murder and ends up killing an innocent witness in addition to his intended target. Janus messes up his manipulation attempt and ends up murdering Roman's self esteem

-I was going to include a reference to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (Remus' line "debauchery and vomit" was originally going to be "blood, love, and rhetoric") but I didn't because... Uh... Hm. Why didn't I do that. Maybe I just forgot about it???

-Roman is too stubborn to manipulate for long and that is a fact.

"I was pretty much done anyway," Remus said. "There's only so much debauchery and vomit you can fit into one story."

-Cade specifically ask me that nobody cry in this fic, but after I had Janus eviscerate Roman I knew he couldn't not cry a little. I kept it to a minimum because there's already a billion fucking fics about [literally any Side] crying on the shoulder of [literally any other Side] and it's really just not interesting to either of us.

-It didn't come up because it doesn't matter, but Thomas dreamed he was participating in the exact Dionysian orgy that took place in The Secret History because it's my fic and I said so.

Chapter 5:

He just sat back and watched and tugged at his hair while Janus spooned mound after mound of crisp white sugar into his mug and Virgil poured his customary eight fluid ounces of milk into his own mug.

-Cade strikes again. Virgil's coffee order is equal amounts milk to coffee; Janus' is equal parts sugar to coffee. He had asked me to include a scene where Roman catches Janus massacring his coffee and is appropriately horrified, but I uhh... Didn't write it. I still might include it as an omake someday.

-I imagine that Roman feels really strongly about dragons vs wyverns, and Remus just pretends to give a shit because he thinks it's funny to wind Roman up. Fortunately for me but unfortunately for my sense of realism in writing, I can't relate because I adore my sister and we get along perfectly almost 100% of the time.

"You shut us down every chance you get!" Remus said, baring his teeth. "How would you like it if your pens never wrote, hm? What would you do with all those thoughts in your head?"

-I do wish I had developed the concept of power focuses a bit more, established rules and such. Basically, Patton is always on the prowl for wrongthink and actively represses it, which in turn breaks or sabotages the Dark Sides' power focus.

Chapter 6: This chapter really should have been Janus and Roman but I was really tired and didn't want to bother with it. Plus, you know, Moceit. This chapter was meant to demonstrate how the characters would get along without Virgil nannying them. There's friction, but everyone is making a conscious, deliberate effort to get along because they love Virgil, and love is a series of choices you make.

I chose "Leo" as the answer for the answer to the crossword clue instead of "Virgo," because my other QPP is a Leo. She'll never read this fic, but I did it anyway because I love her. (Trivia: My sign is Virgo, so it was really a choice between shouting her out and shouting me out, and the last chapter is self-indulgent enough, thank you).

Chapter 7: I was gonna write a fic where all the Sides watched Cats the Musical because I was going through a phase. Then Cade requested this so I combined the two ideas. By this point I was fucking exhausted, and that's the only thing that saved you and the rest of the world from me writing the Sides riffing on the movie scene-by-scene. I could come up with snarky commentary for almost every, if not every single song from the movie.

Most notably, I cut a Patton-Remus interaction where Remus declares his love for Grizabella and Patton gets all staryy-eyed about Remus connecting with the idea of rising above rejection and being loved and accepted only for Remus to shoot him down and explain that he just likes that she got to die in a tire fire.

Other cut scenes include Janus quietly pretending not to go feral over Mister Mistoffelees, Patton full-on fucking sobbing over Grizabella and the kittens, and Logan experiencing a deep, soulful kinship with Munkustrap during Of The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollices (and henceforth introducing the phrase "like herding cats" into his regular vocabulary

[talesofpassingtime]

Isabella

Isabella or the pot of basil a story from Boccaccio related by Keats retold by me, in a modern guise

One ~~~

Isabella and Lorenzo fell in love Which is to say, they became obsessed In every way with each the other Seeking out, delighting, missing Yearning, sometimes jealously Craving, lusting, needing, bleeding With love as they licked and caressed When privacy permitted the freedom But yet We’re too soon introduced to her brothers Greedy bastards both of them And they had plans to pimp their sister To some old tycoon with huge Tracts of land, in a very real And legally binding sense But Isabella, preoccupied with Lorenzo had no eyes for no other And ignored her churlish siblings Pleas to please attend to business But she had no business but pleasure So they lured away Lorenzo On business, for if he wanted Isabella, the family business Is his as well, a palmer What business did he know? Follow to learn, they ask and implore And even Isabella goes along With the scheme, to convince Her love to join the family And ride They were barely out of Isabella’s Longing sight when the two greedy Brothers turned and slayed Lorenzo Cut him down and dumped the body Put it out of sight and rode on To finish the business and raise A toast with the rise of the wrist While Isabella went on waiting And waiting and waiting and waiting Until her brothers came home Without Lorenzo, assuming she Would acquiesce to their plan Of marrying her to money Now that Lorenzo had so obviously Run away Greedy brothers were able to plan With the best of the best, Sir And covered every track, every clue Every alibi and lead, the perfect Crime, exceeding Leopold and Loeb In their ropish attempt to Raskolnikov Thinking things through didn’t allow Them to plan for everything Isabella slept and dreamt the truth Or else his ghost did come and told Her where to find his decomposing Remains; she went, Isabella found All that remained of the man she loved She took his head, put it in a pot Planted basil in the earth Fertilized by his face and brain Scented in deep basil Lost her mind, Isabella stopped Did nothing but talk to the herb Until her scheming brothers Stymied in the manipulations Wracked in curiosity Stole the basil pot away Broke the pot, Lorenzo’s face Half rotted and mocking Chased his murderers away Leaving Isabella mad and crying Keats says Oh, ‘tis cruelty, to take My basil pot away from me

Two ~~~

Isabella, fair daughter of an ambitious family Coveted by many who judged with their eyes Feeble and timid within Easily led and commanded whenever Her services, despite her lack of skills, Might serve her family’s ambitions Until along came Lorenzo, fair youth Of less strength than enthusiasm Of less use than loving Loving, his loving, her loving Loving seemed all they could need Isabella loving Lorenzo Isabella loved by Lorenzo Lorenzo loving Isabella Lorenzo loved by Isabella Until they sat staring, eye to eye Longed to sit staring, eye to eye Wanting nothing more Attending to nothing else Although Isabella had little to give Her ambitious brothers to further Their avarice goals, they knew The best she had to give was all Sold into matrimonial slavery Wedded to a shallow and wealthy Old man, auctioned perhaps On the sly among nobles In need of a feminine trophy Spurred by her wasted uselessness Spent staring eye to eye They sounded her out, greedy brothers Asking her consent to be pimped To some worthy cretin And give up her worthless affection For the soft, poor, young palmer Shrewd plotters, yet failed to foresee Her objections, her refusal Her laughing in their faces Blood boiled in anger as plotting Revenge became the next step In achieving their money grub goals Evil in purest ways, they undertook Embracing Lorenzo as one of their own Taking them under their vulture wing Planned a voyage hence to Capital City To wheel and deal a fortune for him Lead Lorenzo to the wealth That would make him worthy Of our fair sister, Isabella Craving counsel, Lorenzo asked Isabella, if he should, thus invited Join her loving brothers yet Leave her loving presence Go, she replied, overjoyed Discovering the bond suddenly Sprung between lover and brothers She, Isabella, watched her men Disappear beyond the bend Waving and crying and laughing In a symphony of self abused joy Hurry back, she sighed Months passed without a word From Lorenzo or her brothers Until, as she did her daily vigil Sitting on her balcony Silently staring into the distance empty Her brothers turned the corner Told tales of grand exploits Fortunes won, lost, again regained The lust for gold in Lorenzo’s eye Before he chose a courtesan and fled Forever from their sight Isabella, never solid in ordinary struggles Wailed in endless agony Betrayed so cruelly by this youth She abandoned every sense of caring Consented to go along with anything Her brothers could contrive They wrung their hands greedily Eager to make the most of her weakness Night came and Isabella Cried herself to sleep A troubled, restless surrender To the darkness When he, Lorenzo, appeared Before her in a translucent glow My Isabella, my love, my soul He said in earthly tones she knew As his, I have not run away With money or lust or ever from you Except as you bid me go Your brothers killed me just over there A few hours after we left The proof of what I say is found Beneath the ground by yonder grove Beside a basil garden Isabella fell out of bed Ran fast to find the truth Discover for herself Lorenzo’s fate His head she recovered Planted him with basil in a pot Surrendered her mind to another Betrayal, of murderous brothers Infected with amoral greed Spoke only with the silent head Contained within the basil pot Alone Frustrated by her insanity Confused by her basil obsession The brothers driven by crime beyond morality Stole her basil pot away Smashed the pottery and found A confession, mocking In his silent staring eyes Leaving in the haste of retribution Fair mad Isabella wailing Of their cruelty

Three ~~~

We have a sister, my brother and I They named Isabella, sister fair For whom we hatched a scheme To save her from a life of need To employ her beauty to secure our futures Attaching her to some deep pocketed mate Capable of supporting our growing enterprise Victory achieved by an exchange of vows Nothing could have brought us more for less The wheel turned, our plans proceeded Then Lorenzo came along, stumbled Like a bull into our china shop Destroyed our progressing tradition Family first, after money By stealing the affection of a feeble brained girl, taking with glances The woman we had meant to sell Cursed viper, sneaking into our camp Venomous presence, poisoning her will To obey her fraternal orders, to throw Herself away on a mere student When a master had offered to pay Now my brother and I are notorious For concocting plans to get our way So the obstacle posed by our Lorenzo Seemed nothing to warrant concern We drew him out of town and shivved The Oedipus in the back, through the heart One second an issue, the next second gone Left his mortal remains behind Rode into town and lived our best Anticipating our family’s good fortune Isabella, our sister, as we expected Took Lorenzo’s disappearance hard She cried and she groaned, carried on Into the night, but didn’t retire Until she consented to marry Whomever we thought was best No longer trusting her own mind The next day we expected her Isabella to be better, recovered From the shock of being jilted Maybe a little blue, but excited Imagining the rich wife she’d soon be But instead Isabella, our sister Sat alone on her balcony From dawn to midnight, speaking of love While she stared at a plant Grown in a pot, some herb Basil, I’m told That seemed to listen, I suppose To her rantings, soothing her aromatically I thought it might help Isabella by taking Her basil pot away And she cried The pot broke His face glared In accusation And so I came here to confess It was my brother’s fault