Universe: India
Universe: India - Part 2
Title: Tutor
Author: deleerium
I dress methodically, the ritual of donning my teaching garments opening and calming my mind.
For these many years I have been entrusted with a willing task: the gentle taming of spirit and teaching of a boy, now grown into a man.
Through intricately carved wood, I have listened to the shadows sigh about the gift who walks with grace and beauty not seen for many lifetimes - truly worthy of his place. I have heard the sing song melodies of the washing maids tell of his midnight curls and doe-hunted eyes, his long brown limbs and starlight smile.
And yet I, every day that is not taken by other tasks, sit with him thus. See the dark curls, delight and annoy the doe-eyes, touch the brown silk skin and stray, glowing, under starlight for a time.
I have filled his mind with questions and answers, taught his hand to follow my own, carving language and learning on the rough silk of parchment and page. I have spent hours tracing the tree of the noble families, demanding and correcting the smallest flaw in his lowest bow, the tilt of his chin, the sincerity of his address. Until he flows effortlessly through the rituals of grace, respect, knowledge and symetry of body, heart and mind.
My charge is the Untouched, he who is kept for consort to the Maharajai as he reaches his majority - a pure child born as the fatherless gift of a temple priestess on a calm, clear night. And the child is taken, secreted away in the meandering maze of the inner palace - nurtured, loved and guided until the princeling reaches his throne-year, and the gift - perhaps - becomes the Chosen.
My mind has wandered, and I am running out of time.
I reach for the fine linen pants, billowing at my knees as I pull them over pale hips. The ritual of the thrice round girdle belt calms my heart and clears my mind.
Today, I am heart heavy at what is before me.
After today, I will no longer be his teacher.
It is the Maharajai who will have him tonight.
And I am…afraid.
The soft black robes are heavy even in the cool of morning, and I let them slide over my head and neck, settling them loose about my shoulders. My hands rub across the over sleeves, remembering long fingers plucking for my attention along their length.
And this makes me smile. And remember.
”If your heart and mind were also here, your hand would follow thus.”
My charge tosses down his quill and rises from the couch, arms dark against the white of his long robes, stretched to engulf the entire garden, glorious and singing in the sunlight. ”What god or man or beast could be still and learn triffling matters on a day such as this? And he spins wide and smiles at me.
And I melt, heart loud and uncontrolled in my chest at the radiant joy I see before me.
And I must snap at him to return to his triffling matters, as my time with him has grown rare and is more important than his boyish day of dreams.
He is the consort to a prince, and eventually a king.
He. Must. Learn.
And I wince at the lowered arms, the disgruntled purse of soft lips, and marvel at the instant and unquestioning obedience as he once again settles next to me. Warm. And soon smiling again. Plucking at my sleeve.
I pick up a length of dark slashing fabric and wind it round my head, arms practiced and easy with the movement, the final draping cowl along the curve of my neck.
I watch the morning shadows and hurry through my routine, slipping on the plain brown sandals and two copper rings.
He will be waiting.
+
I can not help the rush of longing in my eyes at the angry words, his frustration with tonight so clearly focusing on loss - not gain.
I feel no anger, only unavoidable pain. "To be a consort of the prince, is not to be a sexual possession. In truth, I believe you will find the Maharajai your willing slave, and not at all what you seem to expect."
He looks at me as a child questioning the sanity of his elders and I cannot help but laugh softly at his barely concealed disbelief.
His eyes sparkle with shared humor, and his smile creeps quietly upon me.
I can not stop, only feel and see as my fingers touch the beautiful curve of his cheek - wandering as if in a dream across the soft skin, the color racing under their slow caress.
I touch his chin, lifting gentle and touch my lips to his. Just once.
Sanity is heavy and thundering through my heart as I pull back and stand swiftly, staring for a long moment. Carefully, I put my hand over my heart, my feelings surely echoing off me in great waves of half excitement, half betrayal as I bowed to him. Tonight, an equal.
I turn, knowing he would speak and step away before he can. Only a desire more desperate than the ache between my thighs stops me.
I turn, for this must be said his eyes to mine.
”I would say this. Though you have not seen the Maharajai, he has watched you. He has seen you in your coming and goings and he has desired to be a part of you since first sight.”
I hold tightly to my breath, sending it calm and blank through the hollow of my chest.
”And while you have not seen him, you have seen his great love for you. Daily.
I turn and flee.
+
Almost-night hangs in a curtain of purfume and fauna outside the hidden arches of my chambers, dancing along the crystal waterfall and sharing nature’s rhythms with the hum of the garden come to life.
I am heavy everywhere, from the balls of my feet, the cup of my palms, the hanging weight of arousal and the breath tumbling unsteady from my lips.
And there are footsteps, softly crossing the pebbled path, their pattern muffled as they step onto the grass.
I love.
And for the first time, I am afraid.
Title: Tutor
Author: deleerium
I dress methodically, the ritual of donning my teaching garments opening and calming my mind.
For these many years I have been entrusted with a willing task: the gentle taming of spirit and teaching of a boy, now grown into a man.
Through intricately carved wood, I have listened to the shadows sigh about the gift who walks with grace and beauty not seen for many lifetimes - truly worthy of his place. I have heard the sing song melodies of the washing maids tell of his midnight curls and doe-hunted eyes, his long brown limbs and starlight smile.
And yet I, every day that is not taken by other tasks, sit with him thus. See the dark curls, delight and annoy the doe-eyes, touch the brown silk skin and stray, glowing, under starlight for a time.
I have filled his mind with questions and answers, taught his hand to follow my own, carving language and learning on the rough silk of parchment and page. I have spent hours tracing the tree of the noble families, demanding and correcting the smallest flaw in his lowest bow, the tilt of his chin, the sincerity of his address. Until he flows effortlessly through the rituals of grace, respect, knowledge and symetry of body, heart and mind.
My charge is the Untouched, he who is kept for consort to the Maharajai as he reaches his majority - a pure child born as the fatherless gift of a temple priestess on a calm, clear night. And the child is taken, secreted away in the meandering maze of the inner palace - nurtured, loved and guided until the princeling reaches his throne-year, and the gift - perhaps - becomes the Chosen.
My mind has wandered, and I am running out of time.
I reach for the fine linen pants, billowing at my knees as I pull them over pale hips. The ritual of the thrice round girdle belt calms my heart and clears my mind.
Today, I am heart heavy at what is before me.
After today, I will no longer be his teacher.
It is the Maharajai who will have him tonight.
And I am…afraid.
The soft black robes are heavy even in the cool of morning, and I let them slide over my head and neck, settling them loose about my shoulders. My hands rub across the over sleeves, remembering long fingers plucking for my attention along their length.
And this makes me smile. And remember.
”If your heart and mind were also here, your hand would follow thus.”
My charge tosses down his quill and rises from the couch, arms dark against the white of his long robes, stretched to engulf the entire garden, glorious and singing in the sunlight. ”What god or man or beast could be still and learn triffling matters on a day such as this? And he spins wide and smiles at me.
And I melt, heart loud and uncontrolled in my chest at the radiant joy I see before me.
And I must snap at him to return to his triffling matters, as my time with him has grown rare and is more important than his boyish day of dreams.
He is the consort to a prince, and eventually a king.
He. Must. Learn.
And I wince at the lowered arms, the disgruntled purse of soft lips, and marvel at the instant and unquestioning obedience as he once again settles next to me. Warm. And soon smiling again. Plucking at my sleeve.
I pick up a length of dark slashing fabric and wind it round my head, arms practiced and easy with the movement, the final draping cowl along the curve of my neck.
I watch the morning shadows and hurry through my routine, slipping on the plain brown sandals and two copper rings.
He will be waiting.
+
I can not help the rush of longing in my eyes at the angry words, his frustration with tonight so clearly focusing on loss - not gain.
I feel no anger, only unavoidable pain. "To be a consort of the prince, is not to be a sexual possession. In truth, I believe you will find the Maharajai your willing slave, and not at all what you seem to expect."
He looks at me as a child questioning the sanity of his elders and I cannot help but laugh softly at his barely concealed disbelief.
His eyes sparkle with shared humor, and his smile creeps quietly upon me.
I can not stop, only feel and see as my fingers touch the beautiful curve of his cheek - wandering as if in a dream across the soft skin, the color racing under their slow caress.
I touch his chin, lifting gentle and touch my lips to his. Just once.
Sanity is heavy and thundering through my heart as I pull back and stand swiftly, staring for a long moment. Carefully, I put my hand over my heart, my feelings surely echoing off me in great waves of half excitement, half betrayal as I bowed to him. Tonight, an equal.
I turn, knowing he would speak and step away before he can. Only a desire more desperate than the ache between my thighs stops me.
I turn, for this must be said his eyes to mine.
”I would say this. Though you have not seen the Maharajai, he has watched you. He has seen you in your coming and goings and he has desired to be a part of you since first sight.”
I hold tightly to my breath, sending it calm and blank through the hollow of my chest.
”And while you have not seen him, you have seen his great love for you. Daily.
I turn and flee.
+
Almost-night hangs in a curtain of purfume and fauna outside the hidden arches of my chambers, dancing along the crystal waterfall and sharing nature’s rhythms with the hum of the garden come to life.
I am heavy everywhere, from the balls of my feet, the cup of my palms, the hanging weight of arousal and the breath tumbling unsteady from my lips.
And there are footsteps, softly crossing the pebbled path, their pattern muffled as they step onto the grass.
I love.
And for the first time, I am afraid.