he does not like mr robert gardiner, nor does he find his antics amusing now that he is forced to stay longer and speak about himself and his travels. his eyes shift among the party, and all appear interested in what he will say. except, of course, for mr hickinbottom, where annoyance is barely restrained on the man's thin face. how terrible is it to finally share a common understanding with mr hickinbottom? a more immediate urge to leave overcomes atticus before they come upon yet another agreement. distance and fresh air will aid in regaining his senses and dislike for the man.
atticus shifts in his chair, uneasy. corfu is an enigma. though he did not experience the level of brutality his landbound compatriots did, he also bore witness to unspeakable acts. he had partaken in them, readily even. still, to attach remorsefulness or ruefulness to his confessions of these acts would be misleading. he does not regret his actions taken in corfu. and yet, he avoids reminiscing too deeply about his time there. like a scar, it is faded, hidden, even forgotten until touched or a storm creeps over the horizon. )
Many sieges have happened there. It is, after all, the bulwark of the Christian states against Ottoman power. Peculiar, given the island's origins as a martial gift from Poseidon. ( his eyebrows knit together as if he just noticed the peculiarity of it himself. )
For centuries, the Ottomans have laid siege to Corfu, and the Venetians have triumphed each time. On this occasion, however, we besieged the island against Napoleon. ( his jaw works, and thunder rumbles in his ears. not napoleon but donzelot — gentle, charming, and capable in his abilities and duty. yet war makes devils of them all. he clears his throat, hoping that is enough to liven his sullen expression. ) But, I hesitate to expound as the siege is so recent and, thus, coloured by bias and secrecy. Regardless, this is neither the time nor the audience to recount the story. Corfu is beautiful, however. Rugged mountains, half-crumbled ruins from the Byzantine days, and pristine waters as clear and blue as the sky. And its people — Homer wrote they eclipse the world in sailing, nimble footwork, dance, and song, and I believe it is still true today.
( though that is hearsay as atticus never had the opportunity to see for himself. in vain, the british royal navy lays siege to the island, and, in vain, they have not succeeded, aside from capturing donzelot's library. he can only speculate about the beauty found in corfu. with a rather rueful tone, he says, ) I apologise, Mr Gardiner, if that does not satisfy your curiosity, but that is all I can say for now. With every hope, the war should be over by the time you are old enough to travel, and you can see Corfu for yourself.
( and perhaps, by that time, atticus will find the fortitude to see corfu for himself as well. war has not stopped him from travelling and seeing the world. so why should he allow mere memories of war to stop him? )
no subject
he does not like mr robert gardiner, nor does he find his antics amusing now that he is forced to stay longer and speak about himself and his travels. his eyes shift among the party, and all appear interested in what he will say. except, of course, for mr hickinbottom, where annoyance is barely restrained on the man's thin face. how terrible is it to finally share a common understanding with mr hickinbottom? a more immediate urge to leave overcomes atticus before they come upon yet another agreement. distance and fresh air will aid in regaining his senses and dislike for the man.
atticus shifts in his chair, uneasy. corfu is an enigma. though he did not experience the level of brutality his landbound compatriots did, he also bore witness to unspeakable acts. he had partaken in them, readily even. still, to attach remorsefulness or ruefulness to his confessions of these acts would be misleading. he does not regret his actions taken in corfu. and yet, he avoids reminiscing too deeply about his time there. like a scar, it is faded, hidden, even forgotten until touched or a storm creeps over the horizon. )
Many sieges have happened there. It is, after all, the bulwark of the Christian states against Ottoman power. Peculiar, given the island's origins as a martial gift from Poseidon. ( his eyebrows knit together as if he just noticed the peculiarity of it himself. )
For centuries, the Ottomans have laid siege to Corfu, and the Venetians have triumphed each time. On this occasion, however, we besieged the island against Napoleon. ( his jaw works, and thunder rumbles in his ears. not napoleon but donzelot — gentle, charming, and capable in his abilities and duty. yet war makes devils of them all. he clears his throat, hoping that is enough to liven his sullen expression. ) But, I hesitate to expound as the siege is so recent and, thus, coloured by bias and secrecy. Regardless, this is neither the time nor the audience to recount the story. Corfu is beautiful, however. Rugged mountains, half-crumbled ruins from the Byzantine days, and pristine waters as clear and blue as the sky. And its people — Homer wrote they eclipse the world in sailing, nimble footwork, dance, and song, and I believe it is still true today.
( though that is hearsay as atticus never had the opportunity to see for himself. in vain, the british royal navy lays siege to the island, and, in vain, they have not succeeded, aside from capturing donzelot's library. he can only speculate about the beauty found in corfu. with a rather rueful tone, he says, ) I apologise, Mr Gardiner, if that does not satisfy your curiosity, but that is all I can say for now. With every hope, the war should be over by the time you are old enough to travel, and you can see Corfu for yourself.
( and perhaps, by that time, atticus will find the fortitude to see corfu for himself as well. war has not stopped him from travelling and seeing the world. so why should he allow mere memories of war to stop him? )