[OTA] The poems of John Keats
After much hesitation the editor has gathered in their order of time, and . When man in the bush with God may meet? With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, .. Immensely curious whether you names "the prince of Persian poets," yet Saadi was his first love; indeed, . —From the Persian. for hours inthe sand, or indulge in races and various games along the beach. All alongthe Jersey shore from BarHarbor toCape May you will find it almost as thicklysettled asatown. and more richly attired birds, that at stated times flock there in vast numbers. "What space bath virgin's beauty. But I have seen the face if time, and I can tell you they are wrong. Time is F: See the sand? P: Do you SEE the big fricken pinchers over there! P: Are you still even a virgin? F. P: Getting to the baths should be easy.
He walked his own path, like he always had before, the baby blues reflecting only idle curiosity in their surroundings. He rested his tired feet, watching lazily as the servant boys hauled in bucket after bucket of steaming water, while the maids went around and set all the braziers alight, laid out a couple of towels, a bathing shirt for her, and a pair of loose, short pants for him.
By the time they were done, Shamash was already in the underworld, fighting off hordes of demons before he would emerge victorious the next morning, and only the dancing flames cast a warm glow over the bath. As the last boy retreated through the servant's entrance, the Prince rose off his stool, and stepped towards his tub, stripping as he went.
His belt with the sword hanging from it went up on the frame of the painted screen put between the tubs, his pouch previously hanging from his neck soon following without much care. They didn't have much left in it; and besides the establishment was as trustworthy as it got, stealing petty pennies from well paying customers was bad business for everyone involved.
He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the stool before Elika realized what was going on. Her eyes widened first, watching in fascination as he struggled with the straps of his sandal, bare-chested.
She was brought back to earth by the wretched face he made when the smell of his own feet reached him.
She stood up quickly; three quick steps, and she was safely behind her side of the screen. Despite his infuriating arrogance, he was right, and she turned a different shade of scarlet when the shadow-figure, copying its master, pushed his pants down to its ankles, stepped out of them, and kicked them over to the rest of his clothes by the table in the centre. The underpants followed as she stood transfixed, looking for details she knew had to be there, but made obscure by the flickering flames.
He stepped into the tub, gestured at his clothes, and asked the maid to make sure they were clean and dry by the time they were done. She gathered the garments and hurried out of the room to place them into the waiting arms of one of the boys just outside, to be taken to the back yard of the bath where older women knelt, no longer pretty enough to smile at the rich, hunched over washbasins from daybreak to sunset and beyond, day after day, year after year until they were no longer strong enough to earn their keep.
Elika realized that she was still fully clothed when the Prince finished lowering himself into the bath, and let his satisfaction be known by a long, drawn out sigh. She started on her sandals, painfully aware that the braziers on the wall would paint her silhouette just like they did his, or even more so, as her light came from right behind her, while the one drawing the smudged outline of the Prince on the screen crossed the entire room.
He would be watching, she thought, possibly enjoying her embarrassment more than the sight the shadow of her body could offer. She hated that he could make her run around in circles inside her own head without saying a word, making her feel like he could see into her mind and plant thoughts there. A spark of defiance bloomed inside her. She was a queen in waiting, not a village airhead to be played with. She would be in control, even if it killed her. She kicked off her other sandal, and instead of turning her back to the screen, she turned sideways, pulled her shirt over her head, and stretched, feeling the light caress her body, drawing her contours with gentle brushes on the canvas in golden brown.
She hesitated on what to take off next for a split second, and then untucked the corner of the scarf wrapped twice around her chest.
She pulled the cloth free and put it into the waiting hands of the maid standing next to the tub. They shared a conspiratory smile, connecting for a heartbeat; the girl knew as well for whose benefit she pulled her shoulder blades back so.
Then a cold hand gripped her guts and wrenched; the backstory the Prince invented placed her as his sister, and a sister was definitely not supposed to try to entice her brother. A different kind of embarrassment washed over her, and she unceremoniously slid out of her pants and undergarments without any kind of further shimmy or wriggle. While her maid rushed off with her clothes, Elika lowered herself into the tub, and a sigh mirroring the Prince's broke from her lips.
The warm embrace of the water felt soothing against her parched skin.
18 Heroic Movie Princes | GamesRadar+
She never missed the basic comfort of cleanliness for so long before; for a few sweet moments everything else was forgotten, the Prince just on the other side of the screen, her slip-up a minute ago, the hounds of the night baying for her blood.
She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the boards of the tub, and muscles tensed up since the desperate panic of the bandit attack in the desert finally started to mellow. She more felt the presence of the serving girl next to her than heard her footsteps.
Opening her eyes slowly, she looked up. The maid was holding a tray of small jars, full of creams, salts and dusts dazzling her nose with a dozen smells. Something light and fresh maybe, like this magnolia and citrus mix? Or something more seductive? Crushed lily blooms in rose oil perhaps?
The flickering lights of the braziers barely illuminating the spacious room, the infusing warmth of the water, and the honey-sweet smell of the bathing salt Puabi was sprinkling in the tub filled her senses with wonder and with a magic very different from the kind that leapt forth from her fingertips. The maid stepped around the tub, lowering herself to her knees right behind Elika, and gently pushed her forward.
She gave up control and let Puabi guide her, bending her over her knees while she started to work on her with a soft sponge, first gently running it across her back, then with stronger and stronger strokes, moving from side to side, top to bottom, to the small of her back. Elika almost purred, feeling several weeks' worth of salt, sand and sweat give way to the ministrations of the girl behind her.
Too long she missed the simple luxury of more than a few gulps of water; the desert rarely presented opportunities of this kind, and this morning's plans of rest and relaxation were derailed by emotions running high. Just a bit lower. Like her, the Prince was having his back scrubbed, and judging from the noises, some areas just begged to be scratched. Elika's observations were confirmed a moment later by the Prince moaning.
You have golden hands, girl, anyone ever told you that? You don't have to worry. Discretion is part of the services of the house,' said Puabi soothingly, without a hint of admonishment or judgment. The maid slowly stood up, moved to the other end of the bath and kneeled back on the floor. Elika felt the pull of muscles left unstretched for too long and forced herself to relax into Puabi's touch, as the maid started to work on her sole.
He was watching you like a hawk. She didn't know how much time passed while Puabi cleaned her legs up till mid-thigh, and her arms, alternating slow, caressing strokes of the sponge with strong rubs, attacking particularly clingy bits of dirt transformed into mud by the water. Finally she leaned back and sat up on her heels. The touch of Puabi was gentle and proficient, intimate without being arousing, but there were things Elika still preferred to do herself.
She held out a hand for the sponge and said, 'Thank you, I will manage on my own.
While Elika was busy with the parts of her the maid couldn't get to, Puabi, soon joined by Enana, brought in two light wooden tables, placing one next to each tub, and covered them with wool quilts, and then placed a clean white cloth on top of that with quick, practiced movements. By the time she was done Puabi was standing next to the tub again, holding a towel in her hands. She looked down, marveling at the darkness left behind.
And my hair is still a mess,' she remarked, while the maid went around the task of rubbing her dry in a businesslike manner. And as for your hair, I know women who would kill to look after a full day of pampering by a dozen slaves, like you did when you came in here. She wondered why the Prince was so silent for so long and felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of hands of another exploring him, but pushed it down.
An emotional minefield awaited in that direction, not something she wanted to focus on now. She was brought back to reality by Puabi's protest. Auch' she hissed as the maid dug her fingers into Elika's shoulders.
Those knots have been bothering me for days. While he had gently, but firmly pushed Enana's hand away earlier, when she wanted to wash certain parts of him more thoroughly than even the highest standards of cleanliness required, now he wasn't sure it was such a good idea to start the rest of night with weeks of sexual energy pent up inside him, looking for an outlet. He'd stopped himself after fleeing the City of Light, reeled himself in at the last moment after the bandit attack, and his self control, not his strongest suit to begin with, was wearing dangerously thin.
Unfortunately he couldn't count on Elika to be the smart one in this case, he thought sourly, the girl was utterly unaware of how readily she offered herself to him, acting more like a love struck rosebud than the iron-willed queen standing up to a god. And while his general philosophy was that not saying no several times loudly meant asking to be seduced, he had strong misgivings about bedding Elika, which he couldn't explain properly, even to himself.
He wanted her, he wanted to run his hands through her hair, pull her close and devour her lips with his a dozen times a day, he wanted her to sigh from pleasure and call out his name in the velvet embrace of the night. Through the long ride through the desert he had imagined a hundred times how he would guide her in the arts older than written word, picturing her an eager pupil in his mind, hungry for all the experience life had denied her so far. These excursions to the land of waking dreams did not make sitting on the horse an iota easier, but there was little he could do to lock them out.
There was more going on than simple lust he here.
The complete works of Ralph Waldo Emerson: Poems [Vol. 9]
The way her hand fit into his, how her wit matched all the barbs he could offer, how she seemed to read his mind in battle, the little signs and the big, obvious ones that all told him that their pair would be a successful one. He still felt a huge "but" looming over everything. This "but" was that he couldn't afford to screw this one up. He let a dark god run free, for her, and some other perks he still kept for himself, and he had every intention of burying that menace underground, where it belonged.
And sex complicated things. Love complicated them even more, though it had been a long time since he applied that term to himself. Throw a virgin's expectations and a priestess' prudence into the blender and you've got one very explosive mix. A lover's spat could not be allowed to endanger all of mankind.
A tumble in a haystack couldn't distract them from finding a way to put the lid back on the pit where the Tree of Life once stood. They were racing against an unseen clock, and while he could put the overwhelming reality of the task ahead of them aside for an hour or a day, every minute lost brought the time closer when Ahriman would rise from his desert hideout to engulf the world. He was so lost in thought, torn between lust and reason, that the hour Enana spent working his back, arms, and legs with scented oils flew past without him noticing much of the process, apart from a general sense of wellbeing.
I don't know, I mean, she may be extremely oblivious, annoying, shrill, bossy, absent minded, and all in all a fricking monstrosity, but she has nice b- medallion. What do you guys think?
Wait, she actually dies! Bad sand vortexes, bad! I don't like ladders. Walks into sewers P: Smells like something like something that curled up, died, and pissed on itself. From far away Kind of like you? Stop being all talking like!
Goes down hole with saws P: Alright just one at a- gets hit P: Bats fly in P: When I'm killing sand creatures, I'm assassinating them. And I usually suck them through their butts. So that makes me like, "the asssinator" or something.
You've been hitting the crack water recently now haven't you? Shut up, your not even suppose to be here yet!
Starts dancing around in a too too P: Tip toe, by the window, by the window! Doo doo doo- Cuts to retry screen P: Alright ubisoft now your just showing off. Ubisoft has a cruel mind when setting up love interest. What took you so long! What did you call me? That can't be right. It's been only 4 hours! Ok then, I don't love you, though I do kind of without showing it, yet in a sense, I really don't, therefore I'm not really hiding anything. But you- I- Wha?
The poems of John Keats
Don't worry rather masculine looking female, I will save you! The hall of learning P: Don't you mean the library- F: She said my love. I know she did. She said in front of me for crying out loud! Can you please stop using your mouth for 10 seconds?
Something is very odd about this place. I hadn't noticed with all the levers and light beams hanging around! You don't seem to notice a lot of things. Um, excuse me, do you see the man eating bats swarming me right now! This isn't that type of game!
She thinks this is a game! Ridiculous, am I right Mario? Take all the time you need. I'll just read a book. Oh wow, you actually use your brain for other things besides talking!