The Dread Pyrate Methos, by Taz
Title: The Dread Pyrate Methos
Author: Taz, tazlet
Pairing: D/M, not rated (adult)
Why this must be read: Surely everyone will want to read a letter from Duncan to his cousin Connor, "discovered buried in the Chronicles of Connor MacLeod," that details, in an imperfect hand but sharp wit, the social and political goings-on of London in 1713, along with news and pen-portraits of their mutual immortal friends. There's a newsy item about Fitzcairn, and much complaining about Amanda and Rebecca, who have taken over his house and turned it upside-down with remodeling and who tease him -- "they are ever Codlin' each other before me, knowing exactly how it takes a man," and leaving tracts about "Onania" in his bed.
But the heart of the letter is a lavish masquerade ball, where Duncan (dressed in a "domino") meets a mysterious man dressed in Turkish clothes. He tells Duncan he owns ships that carry cargoes from the East, tea and spices and perfumed wood, silks and painted chinaware. Duncan is fascinated.
Sometimes he leaned close or Gestured to make his Poynte. Then his perfume came to me on ribbands of scented air, changing as I breathed from the bitter orange of Spanish gardens to the ocean tynge of Ambergrees then riche Virginian. His body was a censor. Odors possess the power of Infinyte things and There are Tempations it is not in the Power of Nature to resist.
The stranger slyly admits to having "arbitrary Tastes for which There Is No Accounting."
In the dark, his voice was merry. I thot I took his Meaning and say'd it was too bad of him, if he have China of other people and none by me for I knew where was a roll-wagon Nearby that might raise his Admiration. Scarce had the words left my mouth but I felt his hand seek the place where my Domino had bolstered. I had taken him right and Trule I meant to exercise alle Caution, but the argument of that hand was so cunning it reason'd me out of reason.
The Dread Pyrate Methos
Author's website: Tazwerks
Author: Taz, tazlet
Pairing: D/M, not rated (adult)
Why this must be read: Surely everyone will want to read a letter from Duncan to his cousin Connor, "discovered buried in the Chronicles of Connor MacLeod," that details, in an imperfect hand but sharp wit, the social and political goings-on of London in 1713, along with news and pen-portraits of their mutual immortal friends. There's a newsy item about Fitzcairn, and much complaining about Amanda and Rebecca, who have taken over his house and turned it upside-down with remodeling and who tease him -- "they are ever Codlin' each other before me, knowing exactly how it takes a man," and leaving tracts about "Onania" in his bed.
But the heart of the letter is a lavish masquerade ball, where Duncan (dressed in a "domino") meets a mysterious man dressed in Turkish clothes. He tells Duncan he owns ships that carry cargoes from the East, tea and spices and perfumed wood, silks and painted chinaware. Duncan is fascinated.
Sometimes he leaned close or Gestured to make his Poynte. Then his perfume came to me on ribbands of scented air, changing as I breathed from the bitter orange of Spanish gardens to the ocean tynge of Ambergrees then riche Virginian. His body was a censor. Odors possess the power of Infinyte things and There are Tempations it is not in the Power of Nature to resist.
The stranger slyly admits to having "arbitrary Tastes for which There Is No Accounting."
In the dark, his voice was merry. I thot I took his Meaning and say'd it was too bad of him, if he have China of other people and none by me for I knew where was a roll-wagon Nearby that might raise his Admiration. Scarce had the words left my mouth but I felt his hand seek the place where my Domino had bolstered. I had taken him right and Trule I meant to exercise alle Caution, but the argument of that hand was so cunning it reason'd me out of reason.
The Dread Pyrate Methos
Author's website: Tazwerks