Prithee tarry with me Guest 1977

[Earthgoddess]

Oh good Sir once again you delight my eyes and heart with words so soft that I dreamt they were a shower of petals from the sweetest rose. Your thoughts of me are so noble and pure I fear my true self shall disappoint-tis better that I would be as you think me-unsullied and clear, a spring in which there lies no stones or silt.
Would it be that I might be as a sheet of parchment, and your words penned upon my flesh? I have walked this earth as many years as Christ himself-as man walked, and in all that time no voice has stirred me as yours.
Forgive this brazen sheet-my thoughts dance away from me like bees on a summer breeze. Yet like bees they find their way to flowers with nectar rich,and craving these gifts hover ripe with expectations.

 

[Guest 1977]

Oh good Sir once again you delight my eyes and heart with words so soft that I dreamt they were a shower of petals from the sweetest rose. Your thoughts of me are so noble and pure I fear my true self shall disappoint-tis better that I would be as you think me-unsullied and clear, a spring in which there lies no stones or silt.
Would it be that I might be as a sheet of parchment, and your words penned upon my flesh? I have walked this earth as many years as Christ himself-as man walked, and in all that time no voice has stirred me as yours.
Forgive this brazen sheet-my thoughts dance away from me like bees on a summer breeze. Yet like bees they find their way to flowers with nectar rich,and craving these gifts hover ripe with expectations.

Once more sweet lady, thou uses harsh words to describe thyself.

Do the stars themselves not fill the heavenly vault?

Does their light not cause the sable blanket to be interrupted in the most unlikely of places?

Yet does their very brilliance not enhance the tapestry above, to heights, beyond the ken of man? Would not the same words apply to thee, sweet lady?

The very flaws thou decries, are but sparks of the spirit of flame within thy beating breast.

How could such a radiance, which makes the sun blush in shame at its feeble rays, be akin to the murky depths of the ocean floor as thou would suggest?.

Nay, most humble and gracious of ladies, thou art far too severe with thyself, as all here present shall avow too.

Why dost thou not rejoice?

For is thy soul not free to appreciate the gifts bestowed upon thee by the Goddess and Mother of All??

Do the messengers of death circle over thy heart?

Do the calls of the crow and the raven and the wolf's lonely howl chase away all rapture from the subline guise which is thy soul?

Why dost thou not chase them away with the fire, which burns within thee? For they can not withstand such splendour, and not find themselves without power or form.

Have faith in thyself lady of enchantments true, for then thy dreams shall become as real as the soft light of the moon as she shines upon thee at the days most holy.

 

[Earthgoddess]

What magic is this?Thou hast cast a spell about my life so that entranced I must leap unto these pages and hope against darkness that there be a ray of light awaiting mine eyes.
I cast a net of doubt in effort to deter thee from my hedonistic ways-but you Selkie like have slipped past my webs and declared yourself.
I walk the old ways and along forest paths rich still with the fey. This world too modern for my ways, yet you call to me in words the like my ears have not heard in many years.
You speak of me as though you know me better than I know myself-my own mirror would not describe me in such silken tones. Yet as I read your words,nay cherish them-my skin past maiden's blush, finds roses blooming there. And my hands now work weary, ache to touch the cloak of the word mage.
As the wheel turns towards the spring Equinox I ponder the turns that have brought you to me.
Dare I speak freely and tell you that my dreams are now edged with tatters of your words?
Dare I gaze too long at these words now written as if in stone for all to see?
Thou art a delicious mystery to me,mummer quiet in your description-no place in which to address thee in private...My questions grow with the passions now raised.
The fluttering of my heart a butterfly newly born from it's caterpillar death, and seeking light and warm breezes and soft words. Oh the questions that tumble in my mind during dreams that roar through my nights.

 

[Guest 1977]

What magic is this?Thou hast cast a spell about my life so that entranced I must leap unto these pages and hope against darkness that there be a ray of light awaiting mine eyes.
I cast a net of doubt in effort to deter thee from my hedonistic ways-but you Selkie like have slipped past my webs and declared yourself.
I walk the old ways and along forest paths rich still with the fey. This world too modern for my ways, yet you call to me in words the like my ears have not heard in many years.
You speak of me as though you know me better than I know myself-my own mirror would not describe me in such silken tones. Yet as I read your words,nay cherish them-my skin past maiden's blush, finds roses blooming there. And my hands now work weary, ache to touch the cloak of the word mage.
As the wheel turns towards the spring Equinox I ponder the turns that have brought you to me.
Dare I speak freely and tell you that my dreams are now edged with tatters of your words?
Dare I gaze too long at these words now written as if in stone for all to see?
Thou art a delicious mystery to me,mummer quiet in your description-no place in which to address thee in private...My questions grow with the passions now raised.
The fluttering of my heart a butterfly newly born from it's caterpillar death, and seeking light and warm breezes and soft words. Oh the questions that tumble in my mind during dreams that roar through my nights.

No spell have I cast, milady. Just a knight questing am I, unskilled in the Art Arcane, though more so in exploring the darkness which abounds.

All I have done is speak truth, as I see it. That being one of the few gifts bestowed upon me by the Creator, the ability to see what no one else does see. In one story, perhaps known by thee or perhaps not, a wizard is cursed to see death in life, all things withering before his hourglass eyes. The opposite is true of me, I see life in bloom, though too often this has also hidden away the thorns of the roses I dared touch.

Thy faith is clear for one with eyes to see, thy very name suggests it. Though t'is knowledge granted by one who once held my heart, before returning it broken in shambles, that told me how to address thee with the greatest deference possible.

Look once more upon thy mirror milady and bid it to speak truth. He will then tell you the same thing I have, for to love life in all its varied facets is not wrong, nor is the pleasure which the flesh grants. The goddess wouldn't have given us this ability if she deemed it wrong. *gentle smile*

It pleases me though, that my words have made thy dreams gentler to bear, more rewarding for one of such gentility.

Though I fear, that the reality of my being would turn thy blissful dreams into the darkest nightmares possible. Hence, the secrecy around my being. Like Vincent, I too prowl the nights, far away from my fellow man. T'is better this way, for I know well how the tale between Vincent and his Katherine ended, and you my fair lady dost deserve so much more than that.

So let your dreams be filled with light and hope, with softly whispered words and stolen kisses. With caresses most gentle to further stir the fire within, till it grows so hot that only the soothing waves caused by thy bliss could quench it.

This is my wish for thee gentle lady, the companionship and contentment thou so richly deserves for abiding by thy Rede when so few others will.

May Lady Luck smile upon thee.

 

[Earthgoddess]

Will thou seek to deny my quest? Simple knowledge is my only wish-dost thou fear the release of your secrets? And in so fearing thrust me into silence?
Vincent and Katherine-my knowledge of these names may or may not reveal you-but to what end are you a beast-and one so brave to ander the subterranean world of poor Vincent.
My own flesh and blood scarcely knows the tender link of soul that those names call forth.
My mind reels at the idea that you would travel in darkness, and fear my base reaction to such a thing.
My life has led me into darker places than you could with a cadre of brave men ever seek out-I ponder your words yet I also ponder my own need to solve-poor sleuth that I am,this enigma that sits before me.
Not even an alchemist spending nights trying with his soul spent to turn metals into gold, could be more curious-what gold lurks within thee?
And to whom is granted my inner thoughts? Who dares to speak for my preferences and hopes? Am I not best qualified to seek my own pleasures-and if I desire to tarry anon with thee, who rules me so that I must not know more of thee?
My name was chosen to reflect all of myself-my given name is not such a reflection. All you have done is to raise my ire and make me thirst for more knowledge-if thou continues to deny me this small fragment I may be stunted-a flower denied it's light only blooms for the briefest moment.
Did I not warn you I am a shrew-demanding and snide when you hunger for a soft shoulder and sweet words? Alas it is my downfall-my sharp tongue takes its rightful place when honey does not bring my way.

 

[Guest 1977]

"Will thou seek to deny my quest? Simple knowledge is my only wish-dost thou fear the release of your secrets? And in so fearing thrust me into silence?"

Nay, most beguiling of ladies. I wish not to deny thee, just to warn thee of the path upon which thou treads. Is it not best to scout ahead the road upon which one plans to travel, before thy journey truly begins?

"Vincent and Katherine-my knowledge of these names may or may not reveal you-but to what end are you a beast-and one so brave to ander the subterranean world of poor Vincent."

There are many forms of darkness milady, but even the very depths of the World Below pales in comparison to the abyss which is the human soul. In the end, Vincent lost his battle and was lost in the clinging shrouds of oblivion. I skirt the very edge of the bottomless pit within me, trying to find ways to bring light into darkness, to fill that yearning maw before it devours me whole.

"My own flesh and blood scarcely knows the tender link of soul that those names call forth."

I would beg to differ, oh damsel of the caring heart. All of man and all of women knows the tenderness and longing in their bond, all of them have the potential to reach such similar heights, though hopefully without the fall. The answer lies buried deep within thee still, in parts where none have tarried, in places where none has deigned to look. But there it'll surely be, just as the sun doth rise in the East.

"My mind reels at the idea that you would travel in darkness, and fear my base reaction to such a thing.
My life has led me into darker places than you could with a cadre of brave men ever seek out-I ponder your words yet I also ponder my own need to solve-poor sleuth that I am,this enigma that sits before me."

Fear is based upon expectation and sometimes on a little knowledge, which can truly be a dangerous thing. But when knowledge and expectation meet hand in hand, when rejection is indeed what one finds, where then is the wrongness in caution before letting another close by?

"Not even an alchemist spending nights trying with his soul spent to turn metals into gold, could be more curious-what gold lurks within thee?"

Be wary sweet lady, for I would not want thee finding Pyrite instead of the fleece of legend.

"And to whom is granted my inner thoughts? Who dares to speak for my preferences and hopes? Am I not best qualified to seek my own pleasures-and if I desire to tarry anon with thee, who rules me so that I must not know more of thee?"

I have no wish to order thee about, as if thy were some type of servant. Thy can do what thou wants, yet am I not allowed to worry about thy choice? May I not warn thee of the troubles which may lay ahead, upon the path thou seems intent to explore? What type of man would I be, if I were not honest with thee and give thou fair warning, that not all that shimmers is gold indeed.

"My name was chosen to reflect all of myself-my given name is not such a reflection. All you have done is to raise my ire and make me thirst for more knowledge-if thou continues to deny me this small fragment I may be stunted-a flower denied it's light only blooms for the briefest moment."

A thirst for knowledge is a commendable trait, though one must take care, for what one learns, one cannot unlearn. Furthermore, some things were best meant forgotten.

Still.. Ask thy questions and if I can, than I shall answer. Though I ask of thee, that thou allows me the right to be as cryptic if not more so as the ancient oracle, and as confusing as the sphinx with her riddles.

Often enough the most precious knowledge of all, is that for which one must perform labours most gruelling, before one is allowed to be privy to the secrets such knowledge might reveal.

Does thou still wish to know more of me?

"Did I not warn you I am a shrew-demanding and snide when you hunger for a soft shoulder and sweet words? Alas it is my downfall-my sharp tongue takes its rightful place when honey does not bring my way."

A shrew thou art not, merely impatient, though that trait is common enough in both woman and man.

Demanding?? T'is not the word I'd use, extremely curious perhaps. Anxious to gain knowledge is another. Though thy wish is not unreasonable at all, least not to one as curious as myself.

Snide?? Milady, I have heard and endured much worse than that. This was like the tender gust of wind which brings a person some relief from the brooding summer heat, I've endured the icy blasts of a blizzard most ferocious.

As for the sharpness of thy tongue, it may be sharp, though I have not felt its edge so I cannot say. But that which is foremost upon my mind, is at how deftly thou wields it.

Though it is my hope that thy supply of honey has not stilled, for it should flow freely from its comb. While, that makes the art of savouring all the tender sweetness all the more pleasing, and ensures that not a drop is wasted.

May Lady Luck smile upon thee.

 

[Earthgoddess]

Aye and with the honey so come the bees Good Sir-small stings, swords of the lowly insect-yet designed to protect that which they love without knowing their queen. Your ability to writhe from beneath my questions intrigues me even more, snake like you twist and turn away from my dirct gaze and instead call to me to sit upon the rock and watch you sun.
Aye, I shall heed your warning, but you too have been warned now-yet I remain drawn to thee. Curiouser and curiouser grow I, what deep secrets will thous divert my prying eyes-oh would that my gifts led to scrying, would even the Goddess herself reveal more to me in a shallow bowl of dew. For one who seems to know me well I still know nothing of thee...and perchance for now to know that the knowing will be a journey, tis enough.
Yet as I peruse the small pieces of information,pieces of a tantalizing puzzle-I wonder more...if speaking here in the open woods of this fair land erotic is too bold a move, thee may take the path of haste and send the sweet messenger of the air to slide a simple note into my warm and cozy box. For unlike my tongue the box that holds my messages has no sharp edges, instead tis velvet soft and most inviting. Fits a lucky few like a precious glove, but often men are held off by the glittering blade of my wicked Celtic tongue-tis but a few who dare to tempt the fates and befall it's wicked ways. Yet I have been told that when my tongue takes a honeyed path it can be a most delightful experience.

 

[Guest 1977]

"Aye and with the honey so come the bees Good Sir-small stings, swords of the lowly insect-yet designed to protect that which they love without knowing their queen."

And thus they attack, and thus they die after having discharged their duty to their liege. But no matter how many they be, no matter how ferocious their attack. They cannot penetrate through scales of hardened steel, which sparkle in the noon sun. Patient must be the hunter, no matter what its quarry. Dost thou have the patience required to catch a wisp of smoke, the wind's sigh, the flickering sparks of light from a lit candle?

"Your ability to writhe from beneath my questions intrigues me even more, snake like you twist and turn away from my dirct gaze and instead call to me to sit upon the rock and watch you sun."

Did thou not claim, that thou knows nothing of me? *grins* For thy observation is more true than thou dost realize. Three snakes intertwined in a flame filled orb, two dragons circling in a droplet of Hell's fiery brew, that is the device upon my shield, upon the tabard which keeps me warm from the haunting cold. Pray tell, what other things dost thou see.

"Aye, I shall heed your warning, but you too have been warned now-yet I remain drawn to thee. Curiouser and curiouser grow I, what deep secrets will thous divert my prying eyes-oh would that my gifts led to scrying, would even the Goddess herself reveal more to me in a shallow bowl of dew."

Then let thy journey commence, though I hope that thou will forgive the uneven path filled with debris. The last traveler made quite a mess.

Though I would warn against an attempt to see beyond what the eyes can see at this point. Tightly the dark velvet cloak dost surround me, hiding me from both a common glance and the seeking eye. Waste not thy energy on a task so fruitless.

"For one who seems to know me well I still know nothing of thee...and perchance for now to know that the knowing will be a journey, tis enough."

Thou has seen more than thou knowest though. And more I shall not say on this topic.

"Yet as I peruse the small pieces of information,pieces of a tantalizing puzzle-I wonder more...if speaking here in the open woods of this fair land erotic is too bold a move, thee may take the path of haste and send the sweet messenger of the air to slide a simple note into my warm and cozy box."

Hast thou given me permission to call on thee this weekend with these words??

"For unlike my tongue the box that holds my messages has no sharp edges, instead tis velvet soft and most inviting. Fits a lucky few like a precious glove, but often men are held off by the glittering blade of my wicked Celtic tongue-tis but a few who dare to tempt the fates and befall it's wicked ways. Yet I have been told that when my tongue takes a honeyed path it can be a most delightful experience."

Most welcome a haven thou dost paint in my mind's eye, a place where a weary traveler can find warmth and good cheer and plenty of fluids to drink down. Most tantalizing a picture indeed.

And as for thy most unusual weapon, one can only hope that thou not minds the clash of blades, of steel upon steel, before they return to the sheath, waiting for their next call to battle.

Sweet water and light laughter to thee.

 

[Earthgoddess]

The mystery doth grow more entangled, and my words grow far too bold for my own good. More clues I seek, now a clumsy bear that seeks the nectar of the hive could not be bolder.
A query or two to ease my thoughts-or awaken them...

How dost thou know me-what lands have we walked together? Are you from the land of the Stones?
Bold knight what liege hath received your fealty, or like me is your fealty to thy self alone?

There my questions are now bold enough for now, more bold I may not be, a coward's cloak for now-my hand hath written far too much.

I eagerly await thy answers thou serpent of fire, your scales will deflect the most direct questions from me...basilisk, that thou may be.
I tread carefully since the knowledge I seek may be far more than ever I should.

 

[Guest 1977]

"The mystery doth grow more entangled, and my words grow far too bold for my own good. More clues I seek, now a clumsy bear that seeks the nectar of the hive could not be bolder.
A query or two to ease my thoughts-or awaken them..."

Thou art as clumsy as a gazelle milady, thy grace and pose blind all to any mistakes thou couldst make.

"How dost thou know me-what lands have we walked together? Are you from the land of the Stones?"

The wearines within my soul, suggests that I've walked this world for centuries untold. The eternal cycle of life to death to life once more through rebirth. I've seen the hidden cities in Turkey, I've traveled along the flow of the Nile, the Highlands in Scotland have made me realize the place of man in the universal plan. The hills and valleys in Eire have enchanted me to tarry overlong. The Isle where the sea doth strike against the white cliffs, where Arthur was said to have ruled, there too have I wandered for many a mile. Yet the scent of the peach blossom in bloom on distant shores is not that unfamiliar to me either. Nor is the sight of the tiger hidden in the forests of bamboo. I have felt the cold of mountain passes, where the condor dith at one day rule.

All these things I remember, though at times they seem like mere dreams. This incarnation has traveled a little in the Old Country at the centre, in the New Lands to the west, and through one of the lands in the distant East, in the girdle of Emerald to be exact.

"Bold knight what liege hath received your fealty, or like me is your fealty to thy self alone?"

Unless through some cosmic joke, the words of the scribe Moorcock be more than mere flights of fancy, that the eternal champion doth exist and indeed serves the lords of Chaos. Then my service doth not benefit any being at this point of time. Though he who is loyalty and she who is mystery are both dear to my heart

"There my questions are now bold enough for now, more bold I may not be, a coward's cloak for now-my hand hath written far too much."

I hope that my replies answer thy questions and doesn't leave thou thirsting for more. And if they do, than ask me more in the epistel I will send thee on the day of the sun.

"I eagerly await thy answers thou serpent of fire, your scales will deflect the most direct questions from me...basilisk, that thou may be."

Does my sight turn thee to stone milady? Dost my breath strike you down by way of the vilest poison? Dost thou see the mark of the rooseter and toad upon my appearance??

Snakes and dragons I may be, but not such a vile being as the basilisk.

"I tread carefully since the knowledge I seek may be far more than ever I should."

Caution is the mark of the wise, for only fools rush forward blindly.

 

[Earthgoddess]

Fear not brave knight-no basilisk thee-just an attempt at needling, by a seamstress of hearts.
Thou answered so beautifully and poetic-yet answers not as simple as I dost desire.
What aside from my bold and bawdy nature hast drawn thee to me-have we met in this incarnation?
Hath the wheel turned so far around that finally the sun warms us both after so many lives apart?
Chaos is no easy master-and there is no such creature as an easy mistress. For your best efforts are often rewarded by lips that pout where they ought to have been drenched with wine and firmly kissed.
I await the words that next I shall read...my curiousity so catlike creeps softly about-but the words are a soothing balm for my troubled brow. Succulent in the reading art thy phrases, and like a ripened peah must be savored slowly and thoroughly lest a drop escape my eager tongue.

 

[Guest 1977]

My epistel has been sent to thee oh lady of fiery kisses.

 

[Earthgoddess]

My fog hath lifted and once again air flows into my befuddled brain. I have missed thee.

 

[Guest 1977]

My apologies for my tardiness, milady. My next epistle should explain to thee my lack of approachability. I do have a good reason for not responding to thee as swiftly as I would've liked.