Entry 183; Day 436
{Screened from the Wicked Eyes of Those Who Wish Harm on the Sultan}
Summer's heat and the same troubles as ever-- chases me out of my palace in the hopes of finding even a breath of wind. The weather is exceptionally fine, though, even if hot. I suppose even kings must endure summer's heat.
I will spend the day in the walled garden, among my flowers. And if I must take audiences, I'll take them there as well. The three guards will accompany us to the gardens though I am still suspicious of all three of them--but one does not turn down a gift from an uncle--.
My grand vizier will quite possibly follow us and keep watch on everything. He shall try to convince me to attend to things when it's entirely too hot and I've no interest in them whatsoever. They can wait. It's always waited before, save some of the audiences. I doubt they'd mind the gardens, really.
Come away from your books, your fineries, your diversions: it will all be there tomorrow. Today I wish to see all the passing fair and strange blossoms from all the corners of the earth that have come into my hands.
Such a quiet day. I am tempted to begin a storytelling contest, as in the stories--stories about storytelling, ha ha! I've a foreigner--a foreigner even among foreigners--here whom I know weaves such remarkable tales. Hmm, but what should the prize be? I shall think on that.
Coffee in the morning and wine by afternoon. Boy, bring the cups around, and mind that you do not spill a drop.
Come, come, cherry blossom, fiery orchid, red and white roses, sun-golden sunflower, bright poppy, tiny crocus, delicate clover, silk peony, lotus pearl...
And later shall I visit her, or perhaps she will visit me?--
And what shall we do in the evening? We shall have to rest from the stories, you see, and have music a while. Not a celebration, but some entertainment. I have singers, surely, and musicians, and dancers. Let the singing flowers sing, then, and the dancing flowers dance. I know there is one who can spin fire and swords while she dances. Let her dance tonight, when the evening has cooled. We won't mind the fire of the burning flower, then.
Despite the heat, it shall be a very good day, indeed.
Let me see you in the gardens soon.
~C.
[ooc: Screened from DELILAH, basically, and links are not IC. Journal post or COMMENT LOG for anyone from the harem who might like to join in. And that invitation to be in the harem is still open, of course. The walled garden is...the cursed-up back garden of the opera house, I think... Be prepared for a spoiled royal brat and ridiculous pet-names. I think I may be going to hell for this post. Victorian Orientalism = my sincerest apologies for historical and cultural (and political?) incorrectness. I'm playing off Disney's "Aladdin" and tales of Turkish kings today. Cain still thinks he's the Turkish OG. Logging for lulz?♥]
Summer's heat and the same troubles as ever-- chases me out of my palace in the hopes of finding even a breath of wind. The weather is exceptionally fine, though, even if hot. I suppose even kings must endure summer's heat.
I will spend the day in the walled garden, among my flowers. And if I must take audiences, I'll take them there as well. The three guards will accompany us to the gardens though I am still suspicious of all three of them--but one does not turn down a gift from an uncle--.
My grand vizier will quite possibly follow us and keep watch on everything. He shall try to convince me to attend to things when it's entirely too hot and I've no interest in them whatsoever. They can wait. It's always waited before, save some of the audiences. I doubt they'd mind the gardens, really.
Come away from your books, your fineries, your diversions: it will all be there tomorrow. Today I wish to see all the passing fair and strange blossoms from all the corners of the earth that have come into my hands.
Such a quiet day. I am tempted to begin a storytelling contest, as in the stories--stories about storytelling, ha ha! I've a foreigner--a foreigner even among foreigners--here whom I know weaves such remarkable tales. Hmm, but what should the prize be? I shall think on that.
Coffee in the morning and wine by afternoon. Boy, bring the cups around, and mind that you do not spill a drop.
Come, come, cherry blossom, fiery orchid, red and white roses, sun-golden sunflower, bright poppy, tiny crocus, delicate clover, silk peony, lotus pearl...
And later shall I visit her, or perhaps she will visit me?--
And what shall we do in the evening? We shall have to rest from the stories, you see, and have music a while. Not a celebration, but some entertainment. I have singers, surely, and musicians, and dancers. Let the singing flowers sing, then, and the dancing flowers dance. I know there is one who can spin fire and swords while she dances. Let her dance tonight, when the evening has cooled. We won't mind the fire of the burning flower, then.
Despite the heat, it shall be a very good day, indeed.
Let me see you in the gardens soon.
~C.
[ooc: Screened from DELILAH, basically, and links are not IC. Journal post or COMMENT LOG for anyone from the harem who might like to join in. And that invitation to be in the harem is still open, of course. The walled garden is...the cursed-up back garden of the opera house, I think... Be prepared for a spoiled royal brat and ridiculous pet-names. I think I may be going to hell for this post. Victorian Orientalism = my sincerest apologies for historical and cultural (and political?) incorrectness. I'm playing off Disney's "Aladdin" and tales of Turkish kings today. Cain still thinks he's the Turkish OG. Logging for lulz?♥]
