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Hoist By Her Own PetardPairing: Sophia/Noel
"Oh my Goddesses!" Noel let out a shrieking laugh as soon as she and Sophia were out of earshot of their, er, occupied companions. "I saw it, and I still can't believe it!"
Sophia, walking beside her with matching strides, only sighed in response to her overly-excited lover's overly-loud and overly-shrill exclamation, though the slight quirk of her lips gave her amusement away.
"Seriously? Seriously?! Teresa and Irene of all people? I mean, come on! Who knew she even had a heart? I thought she might have a snowball or something instead," Noel laughed again, "She did come from the North, right? So it's either a snowball or a chunk of ice."
Sophia's amused smile twisted into a frown of displeasure, and she gripped Noel's upper arm tightly, forcing the shorter woman to stop and look at her. "That was uncalled for, Noel."
Noel scowled back and tried to yank her arm away, but Sophia's grip was too firm.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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