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27 September, 1310 — Cargese Suite - Rousse Residence
The sitting room of this suite is well-lit with a number of oil lamps. In addition, a finely crafted gilded silver chandelier hangs near the ceiling, the beautiful and elaborate scrollwork and crystals adding a sense of elegance to the room. To the left of the entrance a small seating area, furnished by a luxurious chaise and a small table, are balanced carefully on the other side of the room by a large bookcase with very few books upon it, instead holding various bottles and vials, both full and empty. The large, dark-stained oak desk beside it is pushed into the corner, papers kept neatly stacked decorating its face. The elegance is perhaps marred by the table set up on the other side of the bookcase within the bay window, and the various dried flowers that are neatly hung up from the ceiling in the area. It is a work area, and from the scents that surround it, for perfume. There is often some intoxicating, sometimes delicate aroma, drifting through the chambers.
At the far end of the room is a doorway that leads to the bedroom proper. Dominating much of the room, is a King-size four-poster mahogany bed. Every inch of it is expertly carved with a series of detailed floral and vine workings while the thick, warm blue sheets and down bedding seem to cry out for a body to wrap themselves around. Even the bed draperies which swag against the poster rails, colored in a deep green embroidered satin, carry their own flare of elegance as they are drawn back and bound to the posters by silver sashes. Nearby, one would find the wardrobes for clothing, along with a trunk at the foot of the bed.
The door opens, allowing Esmee to enter her chambers, the young baronesse positively glowing. Humming a tune beneath her breath, she slips off her shoes to allow herself to pad barefoot across the floor towards her bed. Uncaring that she might wrinkle her skirts, she throws herself across it, lying there and staring up towards the ceiling. "Naamah.. " Lost in thought for a while, she eventually rolls off of her bed to pad to her desk.
Seated there, she digs into a cubby to pull out parchment, taking a moment to find the perfect quill and inkpot. With furrowed brows, she begins to write, the scratch of the quill to fill the room otherwise silent. Before too long, a note is penned, blotted and sealed with wax. A name is written on the front, a servant rung for. "Take this to the La Rose Sauvage. Speak with the Second about having it delivered to the Novice." The servant dips his head respectfully to the baronesse before heading off to see the note delivered this night.
To the eyes of the Second, and to the Novice Piers, the following would be found in a very neat handwriting:
Novice Piers,
I hope that you would accept these paltry words.. inspired tonight by our conversation.
Till we next speak,
Esmee de Rousse
<FS3> Esmee rolls Poetry: Good Success. (8 7 8 2 5)
Clay Within Your Hands
If I was a piece of clay
where waiting for you I would lay…
Tell me…what would you make of me?
Would you submerge your hands
in warm, clear water
and bring them dripping
to a place above me
Would you hesitate,
watch, and contemplate
as the water drips warm on me
pondering just exactly what… to make of me
Would you lay your fingertips upon me
trace them all over my surface
infusing me with warmth and purpose
sensing how I absorb your every beautiful caress
Would you feel within me
where I need and thirst for more
and would you give to me
such that I would thirst no more
Would you study me
feeling me completely
the shape that I am
and what, in your hands, I could be
Would you let the feeling take you
watching what becomes of me
as your fingers knead me gently
to a yielding, pliant state… of ecstasy
Would you like the very feel of me
wet and soft upon your hands
worked into a private creation
Art and Subject understand
Would you delve in so completely
indulge in me so deeply
let your artistry complete me
coming together, so very sweetly
Would you take me then
in warm embrace
hold me in your sheltered space
keep me in that sacred place
within your embrace, completely encased
If I was a piece of clay
where waiting for you I would lay…
Tell me…what would you make of me?