Wasn't exactly unusual, that no one wrote love songs for fat, bluff Edward of Aumerle. Art loved the queer nexus of excess and asceticism that Richard and Robert could inhabit; it was interested in the kind of bone-deep longing that could never be satisfied by having. It had little to say about contentment.
*loves*
This was all lovely, but that was my favorite bit.
no subject
*loves*
This was all lovely, but that was my favorite bit.