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Post by himiko on Oct 7, 2007 9:22:34 GMT 9.5
ah thank you. more is coming (i just have to find time to type it. XP ) More, ye say? *sits in happy anticipation*
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Post by Lane of Magic on Oct 7, 2007 9:48:08 GMT 9.5
Oh, that sounds very promising!
*tries to wait patiently* *pesters a little* *keeps waiting*
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Post by Libitine on Feb 7, 2008 10:39:51 GMT 9.5
Porcelain Are you wasting away in your skin? Are you missing the love of your kin? Drifting and floating and fading away. He moved his fingers in a wave-like motion; up and down. He started with the smallest finger – his pinkie – and moved in rhythmic motion to his thumb. Merlin just loved the way the gloss looked in the soft candlelight. He had left most of it on, to be able to stare for longer. He had used it as a distraction during Frik’s lectures and as a fantasy during the time he should have been using to read. He used the trace print of her lips as a toy. The remnants of glitter reminded him of her eyes. You see, those eyes – her eyes – as hard as one tried, they could never dare be captured in something as impractical as a painter’s canvas could never capture the color, or the light held in her jade irises. Whoever had attempted the stone carving had been close to matching the curve of her eyes in their catlike wonder, but had not come close to retaining their luster. No one could in stone, unless one used real jade. No; not even actual stone would make a fair match. The very fact that her lips had graced his skin was enough to make the hairs on his neck stand in recognition of her presence. The image of her carven form - moving under the surface as the water rippled in wake of his breath – was still burnt into his mind. He remembered reaching into the pool and gently tracing his fingers over the ridge that formed her lips; her two perfect lips. He had thought at that very moment oh how sweet it would be to touch those lips as feel the warmth of skin; of being. Merlin had longed (he still longed) for the sensation of her faultless lips to his warm flesh. For he imagined, one could compare her kisses to the giving of gold. Beautiful, rare, priceless . . . once you have hold of it, you never let it go. Only the best of the best are granted with it; only her champions. One kiss, just one, would be enough for him. Even the thought – the dream; desires – of a simple touch of flesh to flesh made him stiffen in more ways than one. Oh, how she took his breath away. He smiled to himself at the memory of the stone image; so unreal and yet so beautiful. But she had been real. She had been touchable even chiseled from rock in a pool half filled with moss and leaves. Half lost in a forest. His smile then reminded him of her own smile. He loved to watch her lips grow bigger; her perfect cheekbones becoming more pronounced and those eyes (damn those eyes) shining with pleasure. Not pleasure meaning happiness, but silent, secret malevolence at her inner thoughts; desires. That’s right, she had desires too. He was one of them. She had told him; and of that he was sure. He had made himself sure. His success, and his presence in her world and everyday being was one of her desires. His hear pounded at the thought, the very thought of Mab, dear Queen Mab – beautiful Queen Mab – wanting him at her right hand. And what a lovely hand it was. Porcelain Do you smell like a girl when you smile? Can you bear not to share with your child? Drifting and floating and fading away. Fingers long and slender molded like feathers; the color sure to have been extracted from lily petals or snow-crystals or tears. Her hand, the bones slim and fragile, curved in his grasp. Her ring, in its blood-drenched glory, shimmering in his hand. Merlin opened and closed his hand. He could almost feel her beside him if he tried hard enough. He could envision them, hand in hand, and content, forever. He could picture her with him always, for he would always please her and he would always be there for her; for her to be pleased. What reason had he to leave? How could one being be responsible for so much chaos? How could one woman be the source of such turmoil in a young boy’s heart? But his heart beat so when she was around. He so wished she would never notice his pace quicken; the rubbing together or his palms, and the thin trail of sweat that appear on his brow. Every pore was excited at her entrance into the room. Her sway. Her gentle, breezy sway over the threshold of the door and into the same space as he was what sped his movements and slowed his concentration. The way her body glided over to stand beside him and how perfectly he imaged her body would fit next to his; skin to skin. They would be like two pieces to the perfect puzzle and by the gods! Their bodies would mesh. Merlin shuddered at the thought of her silken hair brushing his cheek. He shivered at the image playing in his head of her beside him. He flinched whilst trying to create her voice saying his name over and over in coy whisper; or perhaps in a desperate cry of pleasure. Perhaps, the feeling – the noise – he wanted most was that of her crow’s voice barking out his name in delight. Just hearing himself breathe her name made him jump, but to watch her mouth form the word ‘Merlin’ would drive him to madness. It would be his end. Was it wrong to love her so? Wicked, was it, to sit and think hour after hour of her long black fingernails tracing his spine on his bare back? It couldn’t be evil of him when it gave him so much hope; so much joy. In fact, he could find nothing out of the ordinary in loving someone. There was nothing horrible about being passionate. She wasn’t his mother. She wasn’t. He had had a mother. He had two. And Mab, Mab wasn’t one of them. Because she was different. She was one who he could eternally see himself loving. He could picture himself inside her, and she close enough to be inside him. He could picture himself loving her. Little lune All day Little lune Merlin allowed his fingers to make that rippling motion once more, this time pretending he had buried his hand deep inside her hair; covering his fingers with silk. What a blanket of night the strands of black would make while fanned out on his bed. Ah, she would look so nice wrapped in his bed sheets; her body contorted to fit his needs in love-making. She would be lovely. His hand gripped the arm of the chair he was sitting in. The fantasy was too real. He would grab her close, and kiss her with unmatchable passion. She would melt. He would whisk her to his bedchambers – or hers; as long as beds were involved. He would take exceptional care in removing her dress, being sure to put her in a state of un-knowing before ripping the fabric along the seams. He would tear it off piece by piece, kissing flesh as it emerged before his eyes. He would be the royal in this situation. She, his subject. He would be in command. She would bend to him. When he took her, he would apply the exact amount of roughness, taking special care not to bruise her porcelain skin while at the same time not letting her think he wasn’t strong enough for her. His desire was not to hurt her - she was never to cry out in pain – his only desire was to claim her. She was to be his. After their union; their becoming one, Merlin would gather her close and kiss her lips in silent, unspoken understanding. He was to be gentle. She was to belong to him. - - - - How naïve he was to think he had all the time in the world. If only he had been told he was the one to take her; not in the ways he dreamed, but take her from the world. Take her, and allow her to trust him, allow her to begin to love him, and then rip her apart. Take her and bend her and drain her and remove her from where she had once been in this world. Take her and destroy her place of power, annihilate her hopes . . . all over someone he had never met. If only someone had told him then, while he dreamed of seeing her bare, as she was meant to be and how she was, that he, Merlin, would be the one to drive the blade through her heart in the end. It would be he, Merlin, who would see her last breath, her last glimpse of the world. And yes, his name would be last. His name would engulf her last breath and devour her being. Yes, in essence, Merlin the wizard would get everything he had dreamt of in Queen Mab’s castle. Total control. If only Frik had taught him irony. Porcelain Do you carry the moon in your womb? Someone said that you're fading too soon. Drifting and floating and fading away.
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Post by Lane of Magic on Feb 8, 2008 22:13:02 GMT 9.5
That was really great – I especially loved the ending, which once again came like a blow! I mean, it was all nice and dreamy, and then suddenly, reality check. Good stuff!
Also, I like the use of lyrics was really nice!
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Post by Libitine on Feb 9, 2008 12:56:34 GMT 9.5
Ah thank yee! I was struggling with an ending and then was just like, hey! let's wokr some sad guilt into it. Hehe. Yeah. The last lyric reminded me of it.
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Post by Incapability on Feb 9, 2008 19:04:08 GMT 9.5
*drools*
The last line totally had me.
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Post by Libitine on Feb 10, 2008 0:08:36 GMT 9.5
Hehe. That is one of my favorites as well. Thanks for reading Incap.
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Post by Arwen17 on Feb 24, 2008 11:45:24 GMT 9.5
that was amazing! the ending was really sad.
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Post by Libitine on Feb 25, 2008 20:53:59 GMT 9.5
Merlin sighed deeply, turning the ancient page of the book in his lap. The print was small and after reading for hours, the text began to look like little ants, crawling and running about in fuzzy uncoordinated lines. The book itself was large and smelled of dust and mold; a stuffy choking smell that always made him wrinkle his nose when one of the books were opened. He imagined Frik didn’t have students in the castle too often. Neither he nor her Majesty was the best of housekeepers. The boredom was unreal and she hadn’t even been around to watch his practice that day. She had stopped coming after a little incident involving flowers.
You see, Frik had asked him to light a candle, something that should have been very simple after their weeks of practice. When she walked in, he froze. His palms itched and his fingers twitched, not to mention the funny feeling he got in his pants when she was around; near. He had gotten nervous. “Now Master Merlin,” Frik had said gently, to encourage him to perform to his best when she was in the room, so as Frik wouldn’t be punished. “Do show Madame what we have been learning.” He tapped his foot and cleared his throat. “T-the candle?” He had whispered nervously as she examined her sharp black fingernails with disinterest. He imagined those nails scraping the skin off his back as they traveled down his spine, leaving raised trails of red water.
“Master Merlin,” Frik had egged on, beginning to redden as the Queen had sighed, sitting in her chair and crossing her long snow-colored legs. In Merlin’s head, he could envision those perfect lengths of white wrapping around his body, one on his waist, the next entrapping his ankles. He would trace his trembling fingers from her heel to her hip, following the veins all the way up, leaving kisses were he pleased if he could ever tear his mouth from hers.
The gnome whimpered and Merlin blinked hastily, trying to clear his mind. “R-right,” He whispered and began the incantation. Halfway through, he glanced up at her. Oh what a mistake that was. His eyes caught her silken strands of shimmering black hair and his eyes watered. The image of the stone carving flickered into his head. The traces of flowers mingling in her raven locks. Flowers. The candle smoked, popped and then there was a clap of thunder. Three pairs of eyes slowly looked at the ceiling before a shower of white and purple flowers began. They landed almost perfectly around the Queen of the Old Ways and the young wizard could hear Frik whimper and recoil, shifting behind his student. Merlin had looked down when the thunder began and when he had started to see flowers land at his feet.
“Frik,” Came a raspy whisper. “I expect a full report by this evening.” Merlin heard the servant mutter quickly to her Majesty before a blinding flash in which she had left the room; unimpressed. Merlin’s face had been as red as the blood he had imagined flowing down his back. Frik was sweating bullets, quickly wiping his forehead with a handkerchief and shaking out his hands, as if to remove the recurring feeling of nervousness. “W-we sh-hould w-work on your, um, y-your spells, oh, M-master M-merlin.” He mumbled. “Oh gods, I am doomed.” Frik winced, crossing the room and setting a long line of candles up at the end of the table. Merlin had endured over two hours more of lighting and putting out candles while Frik tried to collect himself. While the pupil was assigned more reading, her Highness’s servant had to draft a formal report of progress for her little creation. Every once and a while he would stop and whimper and put his face in his hand, completely unnerved at the very thought of going one-on-one with his Mistress after that little display.
At the present moment, Merlin was alone; Frik had reported to present his report hours ago, without giving the young man any direction about dinner or how much he had to read. So there he sat, feeling utterly useless and incredibly stupid about what had gone on that day. Why did he turn into such a mess around her? Why did he screw up so badly? Why couldn’t he impress her? It was pitiful. How could he expect to serve her as the champion – as the wizard – she wanted if he couldn’t light a simple candle in front of her?
The door creaked and Merlin didn’t look up, expecting it to be Frik, come to teach him further or bring him dinner or direct to bed. There was a quick, wispy motion and then silence. Did Frik honestly expect him to acknowledge his presence? Merlin rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers on the spine of the book. “This is such a waste of time.” He muttered hopelessly.
“What is Merlin?” A hoarse whisper sounded from behind him. He turned with a start to see the Queen of the Old Ways herself, Queen Mab, standing behind his chair, her hands on the top of the chair, leaning in close. Her bright eyes scanned the text and she smirked. “I would see why the reading would be difficult, darling,” She purred. “Your book is upside down.”
Merlin sensed every drop of blood in his body flood to his cheeks and a burning feeling tingled his skin. “Oh, well, I was . . .” He stammered and looked down at the small words, trying to come up with an excuse. He turned his head slightly as she leaned in closer, taking in the gentle scent of lilacs that made every hair on his body stand up in respectful salute.
“You were . . .?” She said, playfully raising an eyebrow in amusement. He shrugged. What a fool he was. He had to learn to talk to her. “Nothing.” Merlin whispered. “I just wanted to apologize for this, um, this a-afternoon.” She tilted her head, eyes glittering in the gentle candlelight, skin glowing in radiance. “You just need practice.” She said gently. “Nothing I can’t fix.” He blinked slowly. “You?” Merlin whispered. “You want to teach me?” She nodded, walking to the front of the chair and past him. She reached the table and put her hands on the edge of the wood. “What do you want to learn?”
What a question. He watched her eyes; how they stared at him in malevolence. What did he want to learn? He wanted to learn how to make her scream for him. How to slap her and hit her and give her violent thrusts without bruising her tender skin.
“What can you teach me?” Merlin replied smoothly, standing from his chair and walking to the other side of the table. His eyes locked with hers. “Everything,” She whispered. “I can teach you everything you would ever want to know.”
He must have fallen out of time. It mustn’t have been him. Someone must have taken over Merlin’s body for a moment. For in an instant, he had crossed the room. He had taken her tightly in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She had responded positively, allowing his hands to explore her body. Merlin forced her back against the bookcase and she lifted herself up on the shelf, one hand gripping a wooden ladder used to reach books near the ceiling, the other tugging at his shirt. His lips tended to the skin on her neck without reserve and moved quickly down to her cleavage. She trembled, shuddered, and gave a gentle cry. He was so hard; so ready to take her. Her left leg moved away from the right one and wrapped around the ladder, giving him room. He unlaced her dress and it fell to her waist, black glistening corset in his sight. Her right leg coiled around his waist and she pulled him roughly into her, hips to hips, like a dream.
His hand worked on his pants and after the slightest delay he got them open. She gave another teased cry as he took her, slid up inside her body like poisonous snake. Her knuckles turned white gripping the wood of the ladder. He gave a hard thrust up and her back collided with the rows and rows of books. The skin bruised behind the thick bone corset and he knew but didn’t care. He pushed against her and she pushed back harder. His hand snaked up to her wrist and he pinned her to the bookshelf, pumping life all throughout her body. Like a dream.
She freed her wrist and drew herself up further on the shelf. Her hand flew to his back and her nails dug into his skin, tearing through the cloth and trailing down his spine. “Merlin. . .” She whispered. He stopped for half a second. “No, no.” She half gasped half laughed as red stained his brown sack tunic. “Don’t stop.” His hand grabbed her waist and she gave a sharp breath as he pulled her closer.
Dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, covering her darkened back and small strands floating over her eyes. He lifted his lips to hers and kissed them gently, gradually stopping in his brutal shoves as he removed himself from her. Her body slid down slowly, one leg dropping down against the shelf and the other used to support her weight. He let go of her waist and she brought her lips to his ear. “Someone’s coming.”
- - - -
“Master Merlin,” Frik whispered, shaking the young boy in his chair. “Master Merlin do wake up.” Merlin opened his eyes slowly and stared at Frik in wonder. “Mab?” He whispered, looking around the room. “What?” Frik said. “No, Master Merlin, Madame isn’t here. She had some business to attend to. Now the real question is, why are you still in here? You should have retired to your bedroom hours ago. Come now, Master Merlin, follow me. You need your rest.” Frik yammered. “Madame has a very busy day planned for you tomorrow. She wants you to get everything just right.”
Merlin sulked to his room. What a dream he had had. A dream. A farce. It had been so real. It couldn’t have been a dream. “Goodnight Master Merlin.” Frik said upon leading the young protégé to his room. “I will come with breakfast in the morning.” Merlin hadn’t time to respond before the gnome had disappeared in thin air.
He flopped onto his bed, burring his face in his pillows. “No.” He whimpered. He went to raise his arm, and as he did, felt a searing pain in his back. Slowly getting back out of bed, Merlin stumbled to the washroom to look in the mirror. Turning carefully and removing his tunic, he examined himself. Merlin’s flesh was streaked with red; four perfect lines marked expertly across his skin.
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Post by himiko on Feb 26, 2008 1:24:07 GMT 9.5
Ooooh, a surprise indeed to come on here and find a new part to the fic! Twas very good indeed. I liked the way you did the flower scene, LOL.
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Post by Incapability on Feb 26, 2008 4:48:47 GMT 9.5
Mmm. Very very nice indeed.
I'm sure that you'll find more scenes in the books that you can work into this series?
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Post by Lane of Magic on Feb 26, 2008 8:45:55 GMT 9.5
This was really great – and a wonderful surprise! I also loved the funny parts at the beginning, and naturally, the little twist at the end.
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Post by Libitine on Feb 26, 2008 8:54:13 GMT 9.5
Ah yes. I love my twists.
LOL. Himiko. I can incooperate more flowerses into bits if you wish.
And Incapa! I shall try. I was in an inspiration rut. And I hated how that scene in the book was so short. Hehe. Hope you gals don't mind. I changed it a bit. Or so I thought. :-P
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Post by hilloneko on Feb 28, 2008 16:07:56 GMT 9.5
That was wonderful ^^ *applause*
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Post by Libitine on Feb 29, 2008 8:47:51 GMT 9.5
Thank you muchly. There is still one more part (possibly two) to add.
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