BtVS: Bonfire Night (2/?)
Nov. 6th, 2005 09:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alixtiiTitle: Bonfire Night (2/?)
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Dawn/Giles, Madelyn
Rating: PG
Summary/Notes: A family celebrates a British holiday and suffers an attack of British poetry. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
karabair. This fic involves Eliot's poem "The Hollow Men." You can find it here.
First part can be found here.
Bath, England—November 5, 2019
Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason, and plot,
I see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent to blow up the King and the Parliament.
“Sightless,” Madelyn said, “unless the eyes reappear as the perpetual star multifoliate rose of death’s twilight kingdom.”
Giles entered, looking worried. “No change?” he asked.
Dawn shook her head. “She just keeps reciting Eliot.”
“I called the coven in Devon,” Giles said. “They said they had picked up some subtle fluctuation in the astral relays, but no one exhibited symptoms even remotely like Madelyn’s.”
“None of them are as sensitive as Madelyn is,” Dawn countered. “Not even Althanea.”
Giles nodded. “We can hope that, based on the particular Eliot poems she’s quoting, whatever is going on is tied somehow to Bonfire Night. Perhaps when the day passes, so will whatever this is that has its hold on her.”
Dawn looked at her husband. “We can’t count on that.”
“No,” Giles agreed. “We can’t.” He sighed. “Occult interpretations of Eliot’s poetry are a dime a dozen, considering the subject matter, but none are particularly plausible, and they all contradict each other. I’ve been trying to research the history of Bonfire Night, see if I can’t come up with some explanation for why this might happen tonight.”
“Any luck?”
“One of the Gunpowder plotters, Ambrose Rokewood, is commonly assumed to have been some type of warlock, and it’s speculated the plotters may have had a Star of Rivenok. It would be how they were able to keep their plans secret from the authorities so long.”
“Madelyn’s been talking about stars,” Dawn pointed out.
“Yes,” said Giles, taking a step forward. “It’s one of the poem’s leitmotifs. Along with eyes.” He picked up the copy of Collected Poems 1909-1935 and paged through until he came to “The Hollow Men.”
“Here the stone images are raised, here they receive the supplication of a dead man’s hand under the twinkle of a fading star,” he read.
“Stonehenge?” Dawn asked.
Giles shook his head. “Eliot’s poems are less about meaning and more about the vibrancy of its images, the sound of its words, the evocation of emotion.”
“Then why would demonic energies use it to manifest through Madelyn?”
“I don’t know,” Giles admitted. “I can only assume that it required Bonfire Night connection. There’s nothing in Pound’s or Lowell’s ouvre which quite fits.”
“And a single epigraph is enough to establish ‘The Hollow Men’ as a Bonfire Night poem?” Dawn asked.
“First horseman,” Madelyn said. “On its white horse.”
Giles glanced at his niece, then back at Dawn. “That’s not from the poem,” he said, then knelt down in front of Madelyn. “What is it dear?”
“First horseman, on its white horse,” Madelyn repeated. “Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the Shadow. For Thine is the Kingdom.”
Giles sighed. “She’s lapsed back into the Eliot,” he said. He looked over at Dawn next to him, both of them kneeling at Madelyn’s side. “We will help her, Dawn,” he said forcefully. He rested his arm on his wife’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.”
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow:
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!
TBC. . . . here
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Dawn/Giles, Madelyn
Rating: PG
Summary/Notes: A family celebrates a British holiday and suffers an attack of British poetry. For
karabair. This fic involves Eliot's poem "The Hollow Men." You can find it here.First part can be found here.
Bath, England—November 5, 2019
I see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent to blow up the King and the Parliament.
“Sightless,” Madelyn said, “unless the eyes reappear as the perpetual star multifoliate rose of death’s twilight kingdom.”
Giles entered, looking worried. “No change?” he asked.
Dawn shook her head. “She just keeps reciting Eliot.”
“I called the coven in Devon,” Giles said. “They said they had picked up some subtle fluctuation in the astral relays, but no one exhibited symptoms even remotely like Madelyn’s.”
“None of them are as sensitive as Madelyn is,” Dawn countered. “Not even Althanea.”
Giles nodded. “We can hope that, based on the particular Eliot poems she’s quoting, whatever is going on is tied somehow to Bonfire Night. Perhaps when the day passes, so will whatever this is that has its hold on her.”
Dawn looked at her husband. “We can’t count on that.”
“No,” Giles agreed. “We can’t.” He sighed. “Occult interpretations of Eliot’s poetry are a dime a dozen, considering the subject matter, but none are particularly plausible, and they all contradict each other. I’ve been trying to research the history of Bonfire Night, see if I can’t come up with some explanation for why this might happen tonight.”
“Any luck?”
“One of the Gunpowder plotters, Ambrose Rokewood, is commonly assumed to have been some type of warlock, and it’s speculated the plotters may have had a Star of Rivenok. It would be how they were able to keep their plans secret from the authorities so long.”
“Madelyn’s been talking about stars,” Dawn pointed out.
“Yes,” said Giles, taking a step forward. “It’s one of the poem’s leitmotifs. Along with eyes.” He picked up the copy of Collected Poems 1909-1935 and paged through until he came to “The Hollow Men.”
“Here the stone images are raised, here they receive the supplication of a dead man’s hand under the twinkle of a fading star,” he read.
“Stonehenge?” Dawn asked.
Giles shook his head. “Eliot’s poems are less about meaning and more about the vibrancy of its images, the sound of its words, the evocation of emotion.”
“Then why would demonic energies use it to manifest through Madelyn?”
“I don’t know,” Giles admitted. “I can only assume that it required Bonfire Night connection. There’s nothing in Pound’s or Lowell’s ouvre which quite fits.”
“And a single epigraph is enough to establish ‘The Hollow Men’ as a Bonfire Night poem?” Dawn asked.
“First horseman,” Madelyn said. “On its white horse.”
Giles glanced at his niece, then back at Dawn. “That’s not from the poem,” he said, then knelt down in front of Madelyn. “What is it dear?”
“First horseman, on its white horse,” Madelyn repeated. “Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the Shadow. For Thine is the Kingdom.”
Giles sighed. “She’s lapsed back into the Eliot,” he said. He looked over at Dawn next to him, both of them kneeling at Madelyn’s side. “We will help her, Dawn,” he said forcefully. He rested his arm on his wife’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.”
Poor old England to overthrow:
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!
TBC. . . . here
