BtVS: Bonfire Night (1/?)
Nov. 5th, 2005 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alixtiiTitle: Bonfire Night (1/?)
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. The poetry quoted by Dawn, as well as Madelyn's ramblings, are all from Eliot's "The Hollow Men." You can find it 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.
“Is that what he looked like? Sort of blank-looking, you know.”
“Dawn, did I make fun of your culture’s traditions when I was living in your country?”
“Hmm, let me think about that one, Rupert. Yes.”
Giles nodded in concession as he placed the effigy on top of the large bonfire. “Well, I didn’t do it in front of children,” he said, glancing at Madelyn,
“We were children. Hell, I was hardly older than Madelyn when we first met.”
Giles stopped, took off his glasses. “Do you have to mention that fact, love?” he asked as he polished them.
“It is sort of gross, Aunt Dawn,” Madelyn chimed in.
Dawn shook her head and returned to adding kindling to the internal structure of the bonfire. “I still say that thing doesn’t have a face.”
Giles sighed. “Madelyn, would you mind running into the house and getting a marker so that we can draw a face on Guy Fawkes for your aunt?”
The girl nodded and raced off into the mansion. Dawn watched her go, then picked up a bottle of kerosene and began to sprinkle it liberally over the bonfire. “You know, back in the States, we usually had holidays when somebody did something good, like discover a continent or free the slaves or chop down a cherry tree. But try to blow up Parliament? How exactly does that earn you a holiday?”
“It sends a signal,” Giles explained, laying the last large timber in place. “Don’t mess with the English, or we’ll burn in you in effigy for all eternity.”
“Here you go,” Madelyn said as she ran out of the mansion with a permanent marker and handed it to Giles, who promptly drew a crude smiley face.
“Should he really be smiling if we are about to set him on fire?” Dawn asked. She walked up to the effigy, straightened it. “Those who have crossed with direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom remember us—if at all—not as lost violent souls, but only as the hollow men,” she quoted. “The stuffed men.”
“Shape without form, shade without colour,” Madelyn said, her face suddenly very pale. “Paralysed force, gesture without motion.”
Giles looked at his niece, surprised. “Why yes,” he said. “You’ve read the poem?”
The girl shook her head violently. “I can sense them, their dried voices. They whisper together, are quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass.” She dropped to her knees.
Dawn shot a quick frightened glance at her husband, then dropped down next to Madelyn. “It’s okay, dear,” she said. “It’ll be all right.”
Madelyn didn’t seem to hear. “Eyes I dare not meet in dreams, in death's dream kingdom,” she continued, inchoate. “These do not appear.”
Dawn looked up at Giles in alarm. “What are we going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Giles said. “Bonfire Night isn’t usually associated with any convergence of energies. And Eliot was far from being an occultist. Come, I’ll help you get her into the house. You can stay with her while I check the books.”
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. The poetry quoted by Dawn, as well as Madelyn's ramblings, are all from Eliot's "The Hollow Men." You can find it 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.
“Is that what he looked like? Sort of blank-looking, you know.”
“Dawn, did I make fun of your culture’s traditions when I was living in your country?”
“Hmm, let me think about that one, Rupert. Yes.”
Giles nodded in concession as he placed the effigy on top of the large bonfire. “Well, I didn’t do it in front of children,” he said, glancing at Madelyn,
“We were children. Hell, I was hardly older than Madelyn when we first met.”
Giles stopped, took off his glasses. “Do you have to mention that fact, love?” he asked as he polished them.
“It is sort of gross, Aunt Dawn,” Madelyn chimed in.
Dawn shook her head and returned to adding kindling to the internal structure of the bonfire. “I still say that thing doesn’t have a face.”
Giles sighed. “Madelyn, would you mind running into the house and getting a marker so that we can draw a face on Guy Fawkes for your aunt?”
The girl nodded and raced off into the mansion. Dawn watched her go, then picked up a bottle of kerosene and began to sprinkle it liberally over the bonfire. “You know, back in the States, we usually had holidays when somebody did something good, like discover a continent or free the slaves or chop down a cherry tree. But try to blow up Parliament? How exactly does that earn you a holiday?”
“It sends a signal,” Giles explained, laying the last large timber in place. “Don’t mess with the English, or we’ll burn in you in effigy for all eternity.”
“Here you go,” Madelyn said as she ran out of the mansion with a permanent marker and handed it to Giles, who promptly drew a crude smiley face.
“Should he really be smiling if we are about to set him on fire?” Dawn asked. She walked up to the effigy, straightened it. “Those who have crossed with direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom remember us—if at all—not as lost violent souls, but only as the hollow men,” she quoted. “The stuffed men.”
“Shape without form, shade without colour,” Madelyn said, her face suddenly very pale. “Paralysed force, gesture without motion.”
Giles looked at his niece, surprised. “Why yes,” he said. “You’ve read the poem?”
The girl shook her head violently. “I can sense them, their dried voices. They whisper together, are quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass.” She dropped to her knees.
Dawn shot a quick frightened glance at her husband, then dropped down next to Madelyn. “It’s okay, dear,” she said. “It’ll be all right.”
Madelyn didn’t seem to hear. “Eyes I dare not meet in dreams, in death's dream kingdom,” she continued, inchoate. “These do not appear.”
Dawn looked up at Giles in alarm. “What are we going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Giles said. “Bonfire Night isn’t usually associated with any convergence of energies. And Eliot was far from being an occultist. Come, I’ll help you get her into the house. You can stay with her while I check the books.”
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
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-07 09:53 pm (UTC)and of course, the Eliot.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-07 10:25 pm (UTC)I was originally just goin't to quote a bit from "The Hollow Man" to be pretentious and be done with it. But then it took control of the fic, and I spent all of Sunday writing more parts to this fic than I really should have, with The Complete Poems and Plays open beside me.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-08 02:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-08 01:20 pm (UTC)