You came to me that night, many days ago, and gave me this beautiful book and a fine pen with the most brilliant blue ink. The leather, tooled by your hands. In a deep reddish brown leather it was covered, with a moon and three stars embossed on each side of the outer cover, your initials and mine tooled into the inner cover.
And you told me not what to do with them, only to keep them close to me. "And to put anything you wish in them, but do remember... I will require them back in a few years," you said with a sweet but sly smile, as if to say I know what it is I will write.
And so here I sit, in a quiet corner outside a small cafe just across the way from the river bridge, here where I sit every night. And I writ, I writ of my past, of our meting... I writ of may things... I writ of myself, truly and perhaps... more honestly than I have ever been, even to myself.
These pages are from me to you...
I sat quietly on my father's couch, listening to him discuss the matter of my marriage with a well to do business man... This was back, far back; all the way to my mortal years...
... We where in my father's library... It was gargantuan in size, bookcases eight feet tall bordered every wall. Books, scrolls and all sorts of things cluttered all horizontal surfaces available, save my father's desk. My father's desk was the only sanity in that room. We had Plato, Ovid, Socrates, there was much of philosophy, the Holly Bible, many books on eastern religion, and even more on science and math. There was also one large bookcase filled only with stories, myths, and fables, mostly children's stuff.
There where two lushly overstuffed couches facing the fire place. I sat on one, pretending to read from Ovid's Amours, while I listened to their discussion of dowries, and customs, and title, of course. I was quite cretin I was to be sold of to this man of twice my age... Twenty-four, and what an outrageous man I thought he was, Marice, but never the less, he was a genius business man.
My father lay it out flatly ; she is to keep her money and property to her own title, you nor no other shall posses her belongings, the dowry we have arranged I will put into investments, and when they I die they will be turned over to her.
"My daughter," he continued, "she will be a woman of her own means, like it or not... Delila, she will have power over her future, at least in so far as her bounds of a wife. Speak now if you object, for my position is final."
Regarder soutient je sais maintenant ces whew les bonnes annes de ma vie mortelle.. Pour un petit pendant que j'ai ata laiss libre jusqu'� ce que j'tais d'tre mercredi. Mon pre m'a chri pour qu'il m'aurait toujours libre, me quand pous. Les dfenses, me pardonner.. Le memorie de mon bateau de litre d'enfance amne pour avoir des objections ma langue natale.*1
How I miss my home, the old Fanc, of Kings and Queens, and majesty and might. De tout le taht j'ai aim des remaines tellement chers et tellement petits.*2 So, so very little remaines...
As I look out all around me I see the ancient buildings of my mortal life; they still stand, and yet they are not the same. Do you know Demetree, do you know what it is to know all that you love and cherish is lost, gone forever? Do you Demetree? It is our uniscabaul fate to be alone. We may take on human friends from time to time. We may make fledglings as well. But they come and go, only leaves on the wind, and though we may be forever changed by their brief entrance into our lives, and though we may love them forever, and they may love us we will always end up alone. Alone even among friends whom we have shared bonds with for over a hundred years. We always end up alone Demetree, always. Lonyness, lonlyness and the lust, they are the eternal price we pay for our beauty, our strength, our speed, our grace... It is such a heavy price...Tout ceci, il dchire?mon me.. *3...
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*1 Looking back I knew these where the good years of my mortal life... This was the time I was set free for a while before I was wed. My father cherished me so he would not have me bound, not even in marriage. Please, forgive me...
The memorie of my childhood quart ship brings my first language to mind.
*2 Of all that I held so dear, so little remaines.
*3All this, it tears at my soul...
Chapter: The First Meeting(2)
You walked slowly toward the quart, looking all around;I called to you, Slowly now, do not raise suspicion... take your time, you will find me. Your intreats peeked, you looked up and met my gaze. Yes, child, I'm the one, I said with my mind, bending all my thought to you.
You came to me slowly , but I could read the eagerness on your face. Desire leaked from your mind, You are my passion, you are all my desire.
A lushes smile spread across my face, I know, Demetree, I know what it is you desire. Demetree startled a little, "She can re..." your voice trailed off in a whisper. Yes, Demetree, I can read thoughts, and I can send thoughts with my mind, I laughed, and smiled again. You came quicker now, like silver bells, you thought my laughter was. So sweet your thoughts, "Demetree, you are kind and gentle, and passionate, this is why I chose you."
I made my voice soft and velvety, smooth and soothing. You came to me quicker now, " Your soul makes me hunger for you."
You finally came to my side and you spoak your words with suck desire, "I've missed you so much, and yet I've never actually met you."
***To Be Continued...***