Disclaimer: The characters and settings of The Lost World belong to
Telescene and not me, yadda-yadda-yadda.
Svegliati amore mio
Che la notte è già passata
Svegliati vieni qua fra le mie mani
Nasce il sole
Non pensare al passato
Quanta nebbia c'è là
Stringimi e parlami ancora
E vedrai si rivivrà
Legami con i capelli il cuore
Tu mia onda scendi dentro me
Stringimi che ormai io sono il mare
Questo brivido ti scioglierà
~Mille Lune, Mille Onde
--Andrea Bocelli, Cieli de Toscana
TRANSLATION:
Wake up my love
The night's already over
Wake up come here in my arms
The sun is rising
Don't think of the past
All the mists that lie there
Hug me talk to me again
And you'll see we'll live again
Bind my heart with your hair
You're my wave breaking inside me
Hug me for now I'm the sea
You'll feel the thrill right through
~A Thousand Moons, A Thousand Waves
–Andrea Bocelli, Sky of Tuscany
The night was of chaos.
The silver stars were cold, and the golden moon was trapped in shadowy figures; dark, eerie clouds; where it cast only an ominous glow. A wicked wind, icy its touch, blew down wildly from the night air.
Down to earth, it only became worse. Orange-and-red flames furiously roared from their path, devouring everything in its way, and casting off a suppressing smoke. Dusty-grey ashes hovered in the air, parts of it still glowing fiery red.
Inside the deadly circle of fire, a battle raged; a small village was under attack. Alas, the enemy, unknown to the villagers held strong opposes, and was on the winning side. The soldiers of the enemy had almost torched half of the village, while they brutally fought their opponents, outnumbering them almost one to a hundred.
The villagers' soldiers, which were few in number compared to the enemy, found it hard to keep up. Their numbers were quickly becoming vanquished and could not hold onto their defences much longer. Even with Challenger's scientific mind and inventions, along with Roxton, Malone, and Veronica among them fighting to help, they were still losing.
Meanwhile, in a small hut that had not yet been touched by fire, Marguerite layed tucked inside of a bed. She could clearly hear the battle raging outside in the dark night. She did not know where she was or why she was there; all she knew was that she was feeling an agonizing and writhing pain in her lower abdomen. Her grey eyes were filled with the signs of that agony. She felt freezing cold, yet she also felt boiling hot at the same time. Her body was covered in goosebumps, while beads of dribbling sweat rolled off her forehead. She was breathing heavily, almost as if gasping for air.
Suddenly, Marguerite screamed. Her scream echoed throughout the remains of the village, which reached Roxton's ears. Immediately, he knew that Marguerite was in pain.
"Marguerite!" he yelled. "I'm coming for you!"
Marguerite, of course not hearing Roxton's words, screamed again. The pain in her abdomen was getting more worse by the minute. She paused to take a breath of air. "Roxton!" she shrieked. "Roxton! Roxton! . . ."
"Roxton . . . Roxton. . . ."
Marguerite gasped and jerked up in her bed. She was still panting for air, and she still felt cold. Her forehead was covered in sweat.
But wait . . . everything was quiet now.
Shaking her head, Marguerite realized that she was in the safety of her room, way up high in the treehouse.
She had only been dreaming.
Marguerite sighed in relief. Pushing back aside a long lock of dark, wavy hair, her mind went back over her nightmare, trying to figure out what it all meant, when. . . .
Suddenly, Roxton, followed by Veronica and Challenger, burst through her bedroom door. Roxton gripped his rifle, while Veronica clutched a dagger. Challenger, also carrying a long rifle, scanned the room for any sign of intruders.
Roxton, dressed in trousers and a half-button shirt, quickly rushed to Marguerite's bedside and put a hand on her shoulder. "Marguerite!" he worriedly exclaimed. "What happened?! Are you alright?! Why were you screaming my name like that . . . we thought you were in trouble. . . ."
"Relax, John," came Challenger's calm voice. "As you can see, there are no intruders here, and Marguerite is clearly unharmed. She must have been having a nightmare."
"That must have been one hell of a nightmare," commented Veronica, lowering her dagger after seeing that Marguerite was fine, "I could clearly hear her screaming from the other side of the treehouse!"
Roxton, never taking his gaze off of Marguerite, still urged the panting woman, "Marguerite, are you sure you're alright? You gave me– all of us– a fright to hear you scream so loud like that."
"I . . . I . . . I'm fine, Roxton," she said, turning to look into his concerned, yet still handsome face, "you all know that if I were in trouble I would be able to take care of myself," Marguerite commented in her usual blunt fashion. But from the worried look in her eyes, it was clear that she was still under some slight distress.
At that moment, Malone stepped through the door. "I've searched all of the treehouse, and there are no traces of any intruders," he reported to everyone. He held down his pistol and turned to Challenger. "What happened here?"
"No need to worry, Malone," replied Challenger, "it was all a false alarm. Marguerite was just having a bad dream."
Veronica sighed. "Well, if I'm not needed here, I think I'm heading back off to bed." Turning before she left, she flicked her blonde hair, smiled sweetly and added, "Sweet dreams, everyone."
Marguerite rolled her eyes. Looking up at the three men left in her room, she managed a weak smile. "You three should all go back to bed too," she said, "I'll be fine. Challenger was right. It was just a bad dream. I've had those before, you know." But none as vivid and as real as this one, she added silently. She suddenly turned her head to avoid their concerned looks. "Really. It was nothing. Now, I need my beauty rest as much as you do so . . . please go back to bed."
Malone nodded. "All right then, see you in the morning." He nodded and smiled at his friend, and then left the room.
"If you're sure you're alright," Challenger urged.
"I'm positive I'm alright, Challenger."
"Very well. Good night, then." Before he left her room, he looked behind him at Roxton, his glance urging him to leave Marguerite to her rest. Then, he left.
Of course, Roxton stayed behind. He worriedly glanced at Marguerite, who was now beginning to shiver.
Marguerite quickly pulled up her blankets. "You heard me, Roxton. I said I was fine."
Roxton shook his head. "You know, Marguerite, somehow I find that hard to believe."
"Oh?" Marguerite asked, pushing her dark hair behind her shoulders. "And why's that?"
"Well come on, look at you, Marguerite! You're shivering with fright!"
Marguerite shook her head. "It's a cold night," she lied.
"Marguerite." Lord John Roxton raised his eyebrows. "You don't have to be embarrassed around me." He put his hand on her shoulder again, and smiled. His eyes lovingly gazed at the creamy-skinned beauty. Even though she was in the dark, Marguerite could feel her cheeks turning red at his gaze, and hoped that he couldn't sense it.
"It was a bad dream, Roxton. Why are you so concerned?" Marguerite coldly asked, looking away in embarrassment.
"Well, come on, now." Roxton held his smile. "You know that I hate to see you
so– frightened."
"Frightened– me? Ha!" Marguerite scoffed. She wiped the sweat off her brow. "Over some silly nightmare? You must be joking me." Marguerite sighed. But it was quite frightening, she thought.
"Would you like me to stay with you tonight?" Roxton asked.
Marguerite whirled her head around to stare right into Roxton's face. "What did you just say?!" she asked in annoyance, and yet with surprise.
"Come on. At least just until you fall asleep. Besides–" Roxton gave off another dashing smile, "if you call my name again, I'd be right here."
"Roxton–" Marguerite started to say. Suddenly, she paused. There isn't anything I want more right now– only to lie and feel safe in his strong arms, she thought, but it just can't be. It can't . . . can it?
Marguerite slowly looked up at Roxton and into his eyes. They held the other's gaze for a while, until Marguerite slowly began to nod. "Yes John," she said softly, "yes. I . . . want you to stay with me."
Roxton almost couldn't believe it. "Marguerite. . . ."
The flame of his affection for this woman suddenly began to burn strongly . . . almost more strongly than ever before. God knows I love this woman, he silently said, but does she love me back?
The truth was that Marguerite did return his feelings of love and affection. But it was secretly . . . so secret that sometimes she was hiding the truth from herself, too. The chains wrapped tightly around her heart were beginning to loosen, and the large, heavy lock would be opened . . . if John Roxton could provide the key.
So that night, Marguerite and Roxton stayed together, Marguerite's hidden desire only half-filled– she rested safely in his arms, not talking, not doing anything . . . just relaxing and feeling sleep overcoming them. Their hearts softly beat together, almost like one drum, until the hushed sound of Marguerite's sleeping filled the room. John Roxton, feeling more happy than he had in a long time, smiled as he watched Marguerite peacefully sleep. But soon, his eyelids began to grow heavy, like melting lead . . . and he too, fell fast asleep.
Svegliati amore mio
Che la notte è già passata
Svegliati vieni qua fra le mie mani
Nasce il sole
Non pensare al passato
Quanta nebbia c'è là
Stringimi e parlami ancora
E vedrai si rivivrà
Legami con i capelli il cuore
Tu mia onda scendi dentro me
Stringimi che ormai io sono il mare
Questo brivido ti scioglierà
~Mille Lune, Mille Onde
--Andrea Bocelli, Cieli de Toscana
TRANSLATION:
Wake up my love
The night's already over
Wake up come here in my arms
The sun is rising
Don't think of the past
All the mists that lie there
Hug me talk to me again
And you'll see we'll live again
Bind my heart with your hair
You're my wave breaking inside me
Hug me for now I'm the sea
You'll feel the thrill right through
~A Thousand Moons, A Thousand Waves
–Andrea Bocelli, Sky of Tuscany
The night was of chaos.
The silver stars were cold, and the golden moon was trapped in shadowy figures; dark, eerie clouds; where it cast only an ominous glow. A wicked wind, icy its touch, blew down wildly from the night air.
Down to earth, it only became worse. Orange-and-red flames furiously roared from their path, devouring everything in its way, and casting off a suppressing smoke. Dusty-grey ashes hovered in the air, parts of it still glowing fiery red.
Inside the deadly circle of fire, a battle raged; a small village was under attack. Alas, the enemy, unknown to the villagers held strong opposes, and was on the winning side. The soldiers of the enemy had almost torched half of the village, while they brutally fought their opponents, outnumbering them almost one to a hundred.
The villagers' soldiers, which were few in number compared to the enemy, found it hard to keep up. Their numbers were quickly becoming vanquished and could not hold onto their defences much longer. Even with Challenger's scientific mind and inventions, along with Roxton, Malone, and Veronica among them fighting to help, they were still losing.
Meanwhile, in a small hut that had not yet been touched by fire, Marguerite layed tucked inside of a bed. She could clearly hear the battle raging outside in the dark night. She did not know where she was or why she was there; all she knew was that she was feeling an agonizing and writhing pain in her lower abdomen. Her grey eyes were filled with the signs of that agony. She felt freezing cold, yet she also felt boiling hot at the same time. Her body was covered in goosebumps, while beads of dribbling sweat rolled off her forehead. She was breathing heavily, almost as if gasping for air.
Suddenly, Marguerite screamed. Her scream echoed throughout the remains of the village, which reached Roxton's ears. Immediately, he knew that Marguerite was in pain.
"Marguerite!" he yelled. "I'm coming for you!"
Marguerite, of course not hearing Roxton's words, screamed again. The pain in her abdomen was getting more worse by the minute. She paused to take a breath of air. "Roxton!" she shrieked. "Roxton! Roxton! . . ."
"Roxton . . . Roxton. . . ."
Marguerite gasped and jerked up in her bed. She was still panting for air, and she still felt cold. Her forehead was covered in sweat.
But wait . . . everything was quiet now.
Shaking her head, Marguerite realized that she was in the safety of her room, way up high in the treehouse.
She had only been dreaming.
Marguerite sighed in relief. Pushing back aside a long lock of dark, wavy hair, her mind went back over her nightmare, trying to figure out what it all meant, when. . . .
Suddenly, Roxton, followed by Veronica and Challenger, burst through her bedroom door. Roxton gripped his rifle, while Veronica clutched a dagger. Challenger, also carrying a long rifle, scanned the room for any sign of intruders.
Roxton, dressed in trousers and a half-button shirt, quickly rushed to Marguerite's bedside and put a hand on her shoulder. "Marguerite!" he worriedly exclaimed. "What happened?! Are you alright?! Why were you screaming my name like that . . . we thought you were in trouble. . . ."
"Relax, John," came Challenger's calm voice. "As you can see, there are no intruders here, and Marguerite is clearly unharmed. She must have been having a nightmare."
"That must have been one hell of a nightmare," commented Veronica, lowering her dagger after seeing that Marguerite was fine, "I could clearly hear her screaming from the other side of the treehouse!"
Roxton, never taking his gaze off of Marguerite, still urged the panting woman, "Marguerite, are you sure you're alright? You gave me– all of us– a fright to hear you scream so loud like that."
"I . . . I . . . I'm fine, Roxton," she said, turning to look into his concerned, yet still handsome face, "you all know that if I were in trouble I would be able to take care of myself," Marguerite commented in her usual blunt fashion. But from the worried look in her eyes, it was clear that she was still under some slight distress.
At that moment, Malone stepped through the door. "I've searched all of the treehouse, and there are no traces of any intruders," he reported to everyone. He held down his pistol and turned to Challenger. "What happened here?"
"No need to worry, Malone," replied Challenger, "it was all a false alarm. Marguerite was just having a bad dream."
Veronica sighed. "Well, if I'm not needed here, I think I'm heading back off to bed." Turning before she left, she flicked her blonde hair, smiled sweetly and added, "Sweet dreams, everyone."
Marguerite rolled her eyes. Looking up at the three men left in her room, she managed a weak smile. "You three should all go back to bed too," she said, "I'll be fine. Challenger was right. It was just a bad dream. I've had those before, you know." But none as vivid and as real as this one, she added silently. She suddenly turned her head to avoid their concerned looks. "Really. It was nothing. Now, I need my beauty rest as much as you do so . . . please go back to bed."
Malone nodded. "All right then, see you in the morning." He nodded and smiled at his friend, and then left the room.
"If you're sure you're alright," Challenger urged.
"I'm positive I'm alright, Challenger."
"Very well. Good night, then." Before he left her room, he looked behind him at Roxton, his glance urging him to leave Marguerite to her rest. Then, he left.
Of course, Roxton stayed behind. He worriedly glanced at Marguerite, who was now beginning to shiver.
Marguerite quickly pulled up her blankets. "You heard me, Roxton. I said I was fine."
Roxton shook his head. "You know, Marguerite, somehow I find that hard to believe."
"Oh?" Marguerite asked, pushing her dark hair behind her shoulders. "And why's that?"
"Well come on, look at you, Marguerite! You're shivering with fright!"
Marguerite shook her head. "It's a cold night," she lied.
"Marguerite." Lord John Roxton raised his eyebrows. "You don't have to be embarrassed around me." He put his hand on her shoulder again, and smiled. His eyes lovingly gazed at the creamy-skinned beauty. Even though she was in the dark, Marguerite could feel her cheeks turning red at his gaze, and hoped that he couldn't sense it.
"It was a bad dream, Roxton. Why are you so concerned?" Marguerite coldly asked, looking away in embarrassment.
"Well, come on, now." Roxton held his smile. "You know that I hate to see you
so– frightened."
"Frightened– me? Ha!" Marguerite scoffed. She wiped the sweat off her brow. "Over some silly nightmare? You must be joking me." Marguerite sighed. But it was quite frightening, she thought.
"Would you like me to stay with you tonight?" Roxton asked.
Marguerite whirled her head around to stare right into Roxton's face. "What did you just say?!" she asked in annoyance, and yet with surprise.
"Come on. At least just until you fall asleep. Besides–" Roxton gave off another dashing smile, "if you call my name again, I'd be right here."
"Roxton–" Marguerite started to say. Suddenly, she paused. There isn't anything I want more right now– only to lie and feel safe in his strong arms, she thought, but it just can't be. It can't . . . can it?
Marguerite slowly looked up at Roxton and into his eyes. They held the other's gaze for a while, until Marguerite slowly began to nod. "Yes John," she said softly, "yes. I . . . want you to stay with me."
Roxton almost couldn't believe it. "Marguerite. . . ."
The flame of his affection for this woman suddenly began to burn strongly . . . almost more strongly than ever before. God knows I love this woman, he silently said, but does she love me back?
The truth was that Marguerite did return his feelings of love and affection. But it was secretly . . . so secret that sometimes she was hiding the truth from herself, too. The chains wrapped tightly around her heart were beginning to loosen, and the large, heavy lock would be opened . . . if John Roxton could provide the key.
So that night, Marguerite and Roxton stayed together, Marguerite's hidden desire only half-filled– she rested safely in his arms, not talking, not doing anything . . . just relaxing and feeling sleep overcoming them. Their hearts softly beat together, almost like one drum, until the hushed sound of Marguerite's sleeping filled the room. John Roxton, feeling more happy than he had in a long time, smiled as he watched Marguerite peacefully sleep. But soon, his eyelids began to grow heavy, like melting lead . . . and he too, fell fast asleep.