Mar 14, 2006 16:15
The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands
The delicate sound of the the thunder's deep voice whispered through the wind and the rain. The room was lit dimly, by the soft light of candles and glowbulbs. The stained glass window that loomed behind Ishamael was dark, darker than the night outside. A looming man in black on the pane, an image from a favorite book of his. Calm, composed, immobile Ishamael sat on the couch. White dressing gown seemed almost luminous in the low light.
The icewater in his hand abandoned for a glass of pe'ri, a drink made from the juice of pomegranates. Just slightly alcoholic, not even perceptible really. Not enough to matter.
His lady sat on the couch perpendicular to him, curled up, almost huddled. A barely touched glass of the dark fluid beside her. She was tense, very tense. It would be remedied in time, of course.
DA
Couched in silence, the pair sat for a moment as the storm raged around them, the thunder echoing over the dry landscape of the room.