Taming Hope: Part One: Difference between revisions
mNo edit summary |
(Minor corrections to text to match in-game source) |
||
| Line 5: | Line 5: | ||
| quote = A plain, unadorned note. | | quote = A plain, unadorned note. | ||
| book text spoiler = | | book text spoiler = | ||
| book text = | | book text = [Korrilla's transcript of a conversation between Raphael and her sister, Hope] | ||
[Korrilla's transcript of a conversation between Raphael and her sister, Hope] | |||
<br><br/> | <br><br/> | ||
Raphael: Did your mother sing you nursery rhymes?<br> | Raphael: Did your mother sing you nursery rhymes?<br> | ||
Hope: What?<br> | Hope: What?<br> | ||
Raphael: Little Miss Teffle, sat on her kettle, steam blowing between her lips. Along came her oven, in need of some loving, and soon she | Raphael: Little Miss Teffle, sat on her kettle, steam blowing between her lips. Along came her oven, in need of some loving, and soon she had scalded hips.<br> | ||
Hope: That's funny.<br> | Hope: That's funny.<br> | ||
Raphael: And yet you do not laugh. | Raphael: And yet you do not laugh. Come, Hope. Don't look so aggrieved. This little realm around us, this house, you have mastery of it.<br> | ||
Hope: And you of me.<br> | Hope: And you of me.<br> | ||
Raphael: Sing me a song. Hope? I'm speaking to you. Now don't go silent. I'd hate to have to slit a child up the navel and rinse you in their insides.<br> | Raphael: Sing me a song. Hope? I'm speaking to you. Now don't go silent. I'd hate to have to slit a child up the navel and rinse you in their insides.<br> | ||
| Line 18: | Line 17: | ||
Raphael: Then sing me a song, I say! Nursery-sweet. But don't demean. I'll know if you do.<br> | Raphael: Then sing me a song, I say! Nursery-sweet. But don't demean. I'll know if you do.<br> | ||
Hope: (after some moments, she does. I remember our mother used to sing it to us, a gentle melody laden deliciously like plump young arms laden with autumn-ripe apples. When the song concludes, Raphael sighs and looks at my sister)<br> | Hope: (after some moments, she does. I remember our mother used to sing it to us, a gentle melody laden deliciously like plump young arms laden with autumn-ripe apples. When the song concludes, Raphael sighs and looks at my sister)<br> | ||
Raphael: You're something, my dear. Really rather something. I would have you master your own fate. Let me | Raphael: You're something, my dear. Really rather something. I would have you master your own fate. Let me give you free reign to do so. Let's abandon this whole ugly imprisonment. Serve me willingly. Things would be as merry and jubilant as that song you've just given me.<br> | ||
Hope: Sweet Raphael?<br> | Hope: Sweet Raphael?<br> | ||
Raphael: Yes, Hope?<br> | Raphael: Yes, Hope?<br> | ||
| Line 28: | Line 27: | ||
| camp supplies = | | camp supplies = | ||
| single use = | | single use = | ||
| rarity = | | rarity = common | ||
| weight kg = 0.05 | | weight kg = 0.05 | ||
| weight lb = 0.1 | | weight lb = 0.1 | ||
Latest revision as of 13:20, 19 May 2024
A plain, unadorned note. Contains Korrilla's transcript of a conversation between Raphael and her sister, Hope.
Properties
Books
Rarity: Common
Weight: 0.05 kg / 0.1 lb
Price: 14 gp
Where to find
On a Padded Ottoman in Archive at House of Hope X: -6528 Y: 2927
Text
[Korrilla's transcript of a conversation between Raphael and her sister, Hope]
Raphael: Did your mother sing you nursery rhymes?
Hope: What?
Raphael: Little Miss Teffle, sat on her kettle, steam blowing between her lips. Along came her oven, in need of some loving, and soon she had scalded hips.
Hope: That's funny.
Raphael: And yet you do not laugh. Come, Hope. Don't look so aggrieved. This little realm around us, this house, you have mastery of it.
Hope: And you of me.
Raphael: Sing me a song. Hope? I'm speaking to you. Now don't go silent. I'd hate to have to slit a child up the navel and rinse you in their insides.
Hope: You're some pervert.
Raphael: Then sing me a song, I say! Nursery-sweet. But don't demean. I'll know if you do.
Hope: (after some moments, she does. I remember our mother used to sing it to us, a gentle melody laden deliciously like plump young arms laden with autumn-ripe apples. When the song concludes, Raphael sighs and looks at my sister)
Raphael: You're something, my dear. Really rather something. I would have you master your own fate. Let me give you free reign to do so. Let's abandon this whole ugly imprisonment. Serve me willingly. Things would be as merry and jubilant as that song you've just given me.
Hope: Sweet Raphael?
Raphael: Yes, Hope?
Hope: Eat. Shit.
Raphael: But...
Hope: Stuff your maggoty tongue in some other woman's ear.
Raphael: (here he looks upon her with such longing and hate I think he might actually kill her) Oh that was in error, my dear. In grave error. I shall see you soon.