amazon_syren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amazon_syren) wrote2006-09-16 01:44 pm
amazon_syren) wrote2006-09-16 01:44 pm
Entry tags:
The Rose and the Glass, Part II
Right-oh. Here we have part two of the Rose and the Glass. It's much, much shorter and, so far, contains no sex what-so-ever.
this is, in fact, where the sense of 'oh, shoot, that might have been a mistake' kicks in.
The intention is for it to be short-lived.
Is it *too* short-lived?
Help me, please!
Show White, Part I
(With some changes made).
The Rose and the Glass
Morning came, watery sunlight slanting through the windows. I turned over in my bed, felt the slip of linen on my skin, and remembered.
Oh, god.
What had I done?
I opened my eyes and saw my clothes, the linen petticoats lying where they’d fallen, the blue silk gown crumpled on the floor.
What if someone – one of the maids, anybody – what if they saw?
I feared the door would swing open at any moment and I would have only a sheet to cover myself. I scrambled from my bed, hastily donning my linen slips, wishing for the first time, that I could fasten my stays myself.
Surely, I though, I would burn for what I’d done.
I was burning already. I could feel the fire in my cheeks at the memory – oh, god, I remembered it all! My thighs grew slick at the memory of her mouth on mine. Even in my shame, I wanted her still. What had happened to me?
I heard a knock on the door, I heard my name, in a familiar voice.
Marianne.
The door swung open and I flung my arms around my body to hide myself.
“My dear,” she whispered, seeing my state, “what’s wrong?
I shook my head, unable to speak. I looked at the ground.
She came to me, then, reaching out her hand to touch my shoulder. When I flinched away, she understood.
“I— I thought you liked it,” she murmured.
I had. Oh, god, I had.
To my shame, tears leaked from my eyes.
“Marianne…” I whispered. “What have I done?”
She reached for me again, and this time I went to her, let her take me in her arms. I wept on her shoulder, my mother, my lover, and she stroked my hair, murmuring to me as I wept.
“My sweet, you’ve done no wrong,” she told me, softly. “It is no sin to seek knowledge,” she continued. “Thought the physicians would not say it, I know it is not unusual to want to learn the pleasures of your own body – my sisters taught me that.”
I looked up, at that. Surely she hadn’t—
She chuckled, seeing my expression.
“Certainly not,” she chided me, possibly amused. She plucked a comb from the dresser and lead me to my bed. “I have four older sisters,” she told me, sitting me down. “One is married to a viscompt in France, another to a chancellor in Austria, the third to a German Barron, and the fourth to a knight, here in Bavaria. I watched them marry.”
She drew the comb steadily through my hair. What a normal thing for a mother to do for a daughter. The rhythm of it calmed me a little, and I let myself get lost in it.
“Marriage is a duty,” Marianne went on. “But it need not be an unpleasant one. My sisters, every one of them, went to their marriage beds with joy, for they knew what to expect.”
She kissed my shoulder, but withdrew when I flinched.
“Oh, my dear,” she murmured. “It is no sin, what we did. There is not one word of holy writ that says there is, I promise you.”
“It is a sin for a man to lie with a man,” I began, feeling the tears welling in my eyes again.
“And are you a man?” she teased. “Am I?”
But I was in no mood for teasing.
She combed my hair in silence, then, and I thought on her words. It was true, I knew the passage she spoke of, and it only forbid women’s union with animals. I – we – had done no wrong by the authority of the word of god.
I knew it was only a technicality, but I seized upon it with all the hope of a drowning man clinging to a life-raft.
“There,” she murmured, running her fingers down the length of my hair. I felt them, faintly, on my skin.
She rose, retrieving my corset from the floor where it had fallen. “Let me help you with this,” she said, coming back to me.
I sat up, letting her fit the garment around me, feeling the linen settle against my skin. I lifted my hair over my shoulder, letting it fall into my lap. I felt her touch, for a moment, at the nape of my neck. She withdrew quickly, though, lacing the ribbons tightly, until the corset clung to my body like a second skin.
By the time she was done, I was trembling. Her fingers trailed down my back, when she finished, and I felt myself shiver. She brushed my shoulders, and I reached up to take her hand.
“Think on my words, my heart,” she murmured in my ear, her breath soft on my cheek. “But I pray you, do not think too long on them.”
She brushed her lips over my skin, the faintest of kisses, her hand trailing across my shoulders as she rose to leave. I turned to watch her go, suddenly wishing she’d stay with me. But go she did.
“I shall see you at breakfast,” she said, before the door swung shut behind her.
*****
Okay. I *know* that needs work. Beta me, please.
My intention here was to go from 'Oh, god, what have I done?' to 'Oh, god, why aren't we doing it again?' (or at least not more than two steps away from it... they do have get through breakfast yet) without making it either (A) clunky, or (B) extremely unlikely.
I don't actually think I've accomplished this.
What do you feel is missing? What can be done better? And what do you suggest? :-)
Help? :-)
this is, in fact, where the sense of 'oh, shoot, that might have been a mistake' kicks in.
The intention is for it to be short-lived.
Is it *too* short-lived?
Help me, please!
Show White, Part I
(With some changes made).
The Rose and the Glass
Morning came, watery sunlight slanting through the windows. I turned over in my bed, felt the slip of linen on my skin, and remembered.
Oh, god.
What had I done?
I opened my eyes and saw my clothes, the linen petticoats lying where they’d fallen, the blue silk gown crumpled on the floor.
What if someone – one of the maids, anybody – what if they saw?
I feared the door would swing open at any moment and I would have only a sheet to cover myself. I scrambled from my bed, hastily donning my linen slips, wishing for the first time, that I could fasten my stays myself.
Surely, I though, I would burn for what I’d done.
I was burning already. I could feel the fire in my cheeks at the memory – oh, god, I remembered it all! My thighs grew slick at the memory of her mouth on mine. Even in my shame, I wanted her still. What had happened to me?
I heard a knock on the door, I heard my name, in a familiar voice.
Marianne.
The door swung open and I flung my arms around my body to hide myself.
“My dear,” she whispered, seeing my state, “what’s wrong?
I shook my head, unable to speak. I looked at the ground.
She came to me, then, reaching out her hand to touch my shoulder. When I flinched away, she understood.
“I— I thought you liked it,” she murmured.
I had. Oh, god, I had.
To my shame, tears leaked from my eyes.
“Marianne…” I whispered. “What have I done?”
She reached for me again, and this time I went to her, let her take me in her arms. I wept on her shoulder, my mother, my lover, and she stroked my hair, murmuring to me as I wept.
“My sweet, you’ve done no wrong,” she told me, softly. “It is no sin to seek knowledge,” she continued. “Thought the physicians would not say it, I know it is not unusual to want to learn the pleasures of your own body – my sisters taught me that.”
I looked up, at that. Surely she hadn’t—
She chuckled, seeing my expression.
“Certainly not,” she chided me, possibly amused. She plucked a comb from the dresser and lead me to my bed. “I have four older sisters,” she told me, sitting me down. “One is married to a viscompt in France, another to a chancellor in Austria, the third to a German Barron, and the fourth to a knight, here in Bavaria. I watched them marry.”
She drew the comb steadily through my hair. What a normal thing for a mother to do for a daughter. The rhythm of it calmed me a little, and I let myself get lost in it.
“Marriage is a duty,” Marianne went on. “But it need not be an unpleasant one. My sisters, every one of them, went to their marriage beds with joy, for they knew what to expect.”
She kissed my shoulder, but withdrew when I flinched.
“Oh, my dear,” she murmured. “It is no sin, what we did. There is not one word of holy writ that says there is, I promise you.”
“It is a sin for a man to lie with a man,” I began, feeling the tears welling in my eyes again.
“And are you a man?” she teased. “Am I?”
But I was in no mood for teasing.
She combed my hair in silence, then, and I thought on her words. It was true, I knew the passage she spoke of, and it only forbid women’s union with animals. I – we – had done no wrong by the authority of the word of god.
I knew it was only a technicality, but I seized upon it with all the hope of a drowning man clinging to a life-raft.
“There,” she murmured, running her fingers down the length of my hair. I felt them, faintly, on my skin.
She rose, retrieving my corset from the floor where it had fallen. “Let me help you with this,” she said, coming back to me.
I sat up, letting her fit the garment around me, feeling the linen settle against my skin. I lifted my hair over my shoulder, letting it fall into my lap. I felt her touch, for a moment, at the nape of my neck. She withdrew quickly, though, lacing the ribbons tightly, until the corset clung to my body like a second skin.
By the time she was done, I was trembling. Her fingers trailed down my back, when she finished, and I felt myself shiver. She brushed my shoulders, and I reached up to take her hand.
“Think on my words, my heart,” she murmured in my ear, her breath soft on my cheek. “But I pray you, do not think too long on them.”
She brushed her lips over my skin, the faintest of kisses, her hand trailing across my shoulders as she rose to leave. I turned to watch her go, suddenly wishing she’d stay with me. But go she did.
“I shall see you at breakfast,” she said, before the door swung shut behind her.
*****
Okay. I *know* that needs work. Beta me, please.
My intention here was to go from 'Oh, god, what have I done?' to 'Oh, god, why aren't we doing it again?' (or at least not more than two steps away from it... they do have get through breakfast yet) without making it either (A) clunky, or (B) extremely unlikely.
I don't actually think I've accomplished this.
What do you feel is missing? What can be done better? And what do you suggest? :-)
Help? :-)