Hamlet นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Cam didn’t look like he bought the lie, but he shrugged, cleared his throat and spoke again. “Till today, Ophelia’s cause of death remains a mystery. We know how she died, but we never knew the notion behind it. Since you’re a big Shakespeare fan, tell us what you think about her death.” Cam asked and Simon looked around at everyone, lines of confusion etching across his forehead. “Are we talking about Hamlet?” He asked such a stupid question and Cam cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, we are.” “I thought you said it was Othello.”

Being one of the originals, it was a big deal which is why she had more options than most were allowed. You’ll probably hear a lot about pure bloods through this tale. It basically means that we never mixed with mortals. Our blood is old, powerful and untainted. I really don’t get into how that’s possible. More Hail’s cup of tea as he’s the Caretaker. Boiled down this simply means Hail is my right hand, and a historian slash advisor. Roman’s my left, and Kai is kinda the legs I stand on.

“Jeez, calm your tits, Emilia. Mark’s right, you’re so dramatic sometimes.” “Right?” Mark shrugged in a casual way and frowned at Em. And then, focusing his attention on me, he said, “So you have a couple of broken ribs. The patient, Jack, is his name, I guess. So yeah, schizophrenic, had something against you. Not sure if you remember but the nurse who witnessed the attack said the dude first punched you in the ribs, broke a couple of them, which caused you to fall back and pass out.

Then he stood and walked to the clear banister with the silver railing and turned his back toward me. "Montague?" he asked, looking out onto the city's lights. "I don't suppose Shakespeare wrote a play about your family?" "Different Montagues, I believe." He turned around, his arms crossed over his chest. The position pulled the seams of his shirt, straining them against his shoulders. "As in Montague Corporation—tobacco." "Yes."

Michael asks as we come closer. Lana points to a page on the journal, “Le destructeur de tous et de ses proches, la mort, la guerre et la Pestilence, récolteront la destruction de tous. Le sacrifice de l'humanité sera son champion. Si l'amour et la bonté prévalent, le monde sera sauvé. Si la mort et l'avidité réussissent, la fin sera un nouveau commencement rempli de mort, d'assujettissement et de destruction.”

"I am now." We stayed like that for a long moment, a silent acknowledgment of the violence that underpinned our fragile peace. The king had defended his fortress, and now he was returning to his queen. He stood, pulling me to my feet. He led me to the desk, his eyes falling on the open copy of Hamlet.

He smirked and leaned back on the chair, “A bit small for the ruler of the largest pack in the realm, don't you think?” “I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Keyleth stepped to my side, her arms folded against each other. “Tell us about the rot and we might just let you live.” “What shall I call you?” The wolven asked again, the smirk on his face dropped. “Oliver. Just Oliver.” — “Koren?” The word rolled off Keyleth's tongue as the male looked with obvious annoyance. “Soren.” He snapped at her, turning a sharp gaze towards me. “Soren stris, the dark wolven rises, and the realm falls.”

“Are you under attack, Fran?” I was able to mirror his smile. “I think we can say so, yeah.” The waiter brought the bill and Harry handed him a black credit card. “How much? I mean, you need me to hold you, kiss you, just rest a casual hand on the small of your back?” “Grab me by the hand to leave.” “That’s subtle.” Harry chuckled softly. “Breathe, Fran. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Or a Haunter. The Haunter Supreme, to be accurate. I was still seeing him. And he was still staring at me, like wishing oh so bad his eyes were knives.

“Dear Havermouth, How is it that a sexually active boy is a stud, But a sexually active girl is a whore? Her name and reputation become mud, Whilst him you continue to adore? When Havermouth turns a blind eye To the actions of your son Havermouth’s daughters die Just so he can have some fun. I do not need to name Those on both sides of this shame But let’s play a little game And you tell me who is to blame? The Secret Keeper”

I places the book I had in my hand and go to him. " I think you're really allergic to dust. I'll help you.", I say and take out a book from the upper row. The play is apparently Hamlet. " Oh..this is a tragedy play.", I say and read out the blurb to Michael. " Mm..it's interesting.", he says and takes it from my hand. I then take another play from the rack, which is Macbeth. I read it's blurb to Michael and he listens carefully. " It's also g..good. I'm confused which to choose. Hamlet or M..Macbeth ?", he asks.