Sanders Sides Oneshots and Short Stories

The Ballad of Reading Gaol

Not requested.

Ship: Platonic Logince

Category: Fluff

Warning(s): None

Summary: Sometimes, Roman practices dramatic interpretations of sonnets and ballads if he finds one that strikes his fancy.

(also happy birthday Roman!!)

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Roman shuffles slightly to one side, ensuring he's in full view of the mirror, then sits down. He adjusts his sash. He smiles at his reflection briefly, but quickly drops the expression for a more serious one.

"He did not wear his scarlet coat," Roman begins, quiet and somber. "For blood and wine are red / And blood and wine were on his hands-" He glances down at his own hands, pretending to gaze upon them in mock-horror. "-when they found him with the dead / The poor dead woman whom he loved / And murdered in her bed." Sinking into a kneel, he traces his fingers down an invisible woman's cheek.

Unbeknownst to him, right outside his door, Logan is pressing his ear to the wood, straining to listen. The ballad is fairly familiar to him, as is Oscar Wilde, but he'd never heard such an emotional recitation.

It's captivating.

"He walked amongst the Trial Men / In a suit of shabby grey / A cricket cap was on his head / And his step was light and gay-" Roman strolls across the room, a bounce in his movements, fitting an invisible cap atop his head. "-but I never saw a man who looked / So wistfully at the day."

The door opens just a smidge, allowing Logan to peer inside. Roman stands near the window, head tilted slightly, eyes fixed on something far off in the distance.

With every line, Logan inches farther inside, completely taken with Roman's act. Roman seems so into it, so dedicated, that if Logan wasn't literally the embodiment of logic, he would think Roman is the very man the lines describe.

"Yet each man kills the thing he loves / By each let this be heard / Some do it with a bitter look / Some with a flattering word / The coward does it with a kiss / The brave man with a sword!"

For each of these descriptions, Roman brings it to life. He casts a dark, cold glance over his shoulder, then his expression shifts entirely into something flirtatious. Next, he blows a kiss to someone invisible, and draws his sword from the sheath to swing dramatically. As soon as it started, the slate is wiped clean, and Roman starts up the following verse.

"Some kill their love when they are young / And some when they are old / Some strangle with the hands of Lust / Some with the hands of Gold / The kindest use a knife because / The dead so soon grow cold."

Roman continues in the same tone as before, light yet powerful, a strange resonance to his voice. Logan frowns in confusion. The rooms don't have an echo.

"Some love too little, some too long / Some sell and others buy / Some do the deed with many tears / And some without a sigh / For each man kills the thing he loves / Yet each man does not die."

The last phrase seems to bounce off the walls and ring with finality. Roman's thoughtful, solemn expression really sells the whole message.

When the theme veers into religious, Roman's whole demeanor becomes reverent and almost holy. He sweeps into a kneel, hands clasped as if in prayer, eyes closed and face tipped to the ceiling.

"So never will wine-red rose or white / Petal by petal, fall / On that stretch of mud and sand that lies / By the hideous prison-wall / To tell the men who tramp the yard / That God's Son died for all."

Leaping into a standing position once again, Roman does not let a hint of hope enter his expression, but merely a sort of wonder, or disbelief.

"Yet though the hideous prison-wall / Still hems him round and round / And a spirit man not walk by night / That is with fetters bound / And a spirit may not weep that lies / In such unholy ground."

Roman kicks at the ground, whirling away as if he cannot bear to look at it for more than a moment. Then, his movements slow, and he extends one hand like a showman after a concert.

"He is at peace, this wretched man / At peace or will be soon / There is no thing to make him mad / Nor does Terror walk at noon / For the lampless Earth in which he lies / Has neither Sun nor Moon."

At the word 'sun', the lights in the room abruptly brighten, making Logan wince, then quickly followed by a dimming, to such extent that Roman is nearly shrouded in darkness.

"They hanged him as a beast is hanged," Roman exclaims, accenting sharply the word 'beast'. "They did not even toll / A requiem that might have brought / Rest to his startled soul-" He draws his hands up to his chest, eyelashes fluttering. "But hurriedly they took him out / And hid him in a hole."

Logan isn't sure how long he stays there, but the ballad is lengthy, and Roman only makes a few mistakes throughout the entire recitation. It's certainly an impressive feat. Once the ballad is over, Roman collapses into the wooden chair with a long sigh, grinning.

Feeling irrationally like he's seen something sacred, Logan retreats back into the hallway, leaving the door slightly cracked behind him.

Captivating.

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