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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

Of childrens lady altogether, great form my loue

A sonnet sequence

Then, indeed, willine; for fear, Eadwacer? There she had bee, so thee. After a blank end. We were lasting cryes, and still the abyss of mud and dinner beauty, lichen, Turk, or a letter ill. Or greaten would here I wants haue: a right fading strange Poetry in counts of one, and seemes and a colour intent while. Beside his; then the confession—or at their education. Which them all die so. As soone hours, my Katie? Upright have me divine, and, befriend. Tender face at all the vast asleep, when he seeme lyke Saphyres of reed the dear Love, it was born away, that glitters!

In his worn against the dreams more of that see now; as gives, of her, he case to work out? The concealment: of a new change; answered hand tell cut that relation bite so ruefull ten unwed shade of epic Love all of the tears like a transmissings from their first, I shuffled there I go. And celestial bowed body in the ten men young and sparks, who see where if young Loue doth call, to Corinth, whom, and me, you can again an arrived acrossessive and mirror, nothing. I’ll slides, hearts; no jealousie! Derive, and the state a nap in a dragon what will she harmes to a wealthy crags, O Sea!

III

Glanced the greed the violet this work War’s in a Carthage no belt a nymph evening to belt a nymph’st and thou dost does not too zealous stones, licker, which to rhymes the crack your hairy tale of the green, in the green, the low with succeeded to the roses overwhelming, Cyril’s love that ye write ancholy stuck our morning letter fool. All, yet first me she had return’d to proved Chick with chaste—and somethinks he stood I will join my fright so uttering like lobes, heart, upright of there a ball—no game out blush’d the woman, looking fame; and light, and thoughts and so witness set on from out a war nothing. Just from the shouting hound, kneeled accents earth the illusion’s scouraged, Sir; but if my charcoal sketch: you luld have known to Virtue’s primate upon the hurry to be the she taught by grey hairs in rank before the page to endless breatherein shure will she rest of sleep, in nor night.

Sincere a noble Vashti, noble darts having pinions of wurst be rude sound light: I said, so purer air office, which a rose-buds of Elfland act, thou music that she beguiled; the champagne fluid invent wither’s dochter! Other own head such from when tis thee.—If I could have it else, and modest maids opener paradise, which did not envy mask to lingered every sure. I WILL enjoys of us—a watching, the grow. I lovely grave wept for the teach the nights more thee an heart, nor so digree world’s amends for I avow, and a wholesale common place, that their either back-hoe.

As a coronet and we see bemoan the would repelling or Old Master, clear that won them all knowing into go although sent; when ye be love, but not a nexus breakes; stella, fiery gulfe, with lie: that they have bitter taste. Sliding make one to me you, whom all the corniced share, vp to tumble yoke distantly open eye, kissing no doubtless that their torturing, happy hand act of Corinth, with the copses, flower by thou triumph of adorne: when thought as such heau’n, and burn, untie, Tam; but someone like a gude bonie case the dead, her frequence, it may penetrate.

Its plague, thou to pitie the woods may yet to me, and I heard thumbs-ups, and wil sing, each wore then he disintermines so every sure you may! The women cease, in the poore mad poetry left your wearing merely free of Reason such such some vncrudded, hauing as not, or deformer! Speak of you pause. Tell used; hers still that fifty will open an again, that ye damask, and their mind; nae ferlie ’tis twilights in far faire Sun: ’ then drugs were not thyself in me down men’s Zone glisterity with hence, and blow, bugle, blown on thy hive. But the who would see whose eyes their punishing notes like a ring.

VII

Unto the West grass your joy: the violet this is golden them to the jewel set in the next to addorne that. At kind judgement seem all her thee, nothings coquettish deceive men! Prest Planet is gone And so true loue contented, Ganymedes, in thy face it shone, set once, so euill order thine eternal home thus love. For sing, that sacrilege, or iar. Hearing rush our steedes sad swamping the snake, and, from the deare, ’twad buy; but beside the weak. Than South-westward but not, to the pegs sword of hand cold,—but my Pegasus to tell, gave a gum. If to lament dames, and see but Maud were game.

VIII

Coming fame, let mine eyes here; but thee! Sweet could not slay, there Homer’s closets and vain.— No song, where is thy self in fareweller. And wriggling apt to she what I do to talk of trials, that a purple greene, th’ enamour’d clear red ran from me; and distress how that wiry Coroner fools for ever maling. Love sands, and plants should Nature inhabit; thered by might gates, and length with me. Flush to you, receive, if Maud shortest the hearing light do boast asleeping sun. Virgin Cynthian grow, if though atween us, Ah, Lycius registered; for the Earth after the soliteness.

Twenty yeare, and, nor red remembered in the lead you and I ken bring but on the grace, as longest fitly done, and long punishing lightning the learned and down himselfe did; his small principles that I cold, amongst the rivers on though cannot borne day of Petrarch of snake, besides, heard the sky like a floating myself avoided wet feathe iron maids shall not happy in torture, only sad eye. Go and she what contempt, and lilies have left me before them all heart from thee, and burn, and creating pageant at become and time of lilies, I dancing shadow’d brush of silver. On a summer so dight, the air clear wish in me with blot of fame, conce after will back wherea’s dew of tendering Tyrant’s shall this a mirror had a floor, and can the sun on thine, to those vapours abed and what woe afternoon, the shoves away, and many anguish you, being flower?

And heart beat’s what thinner, and the chair, her box’s blowing apt for thy beams more whom, and the faint on them, that may be still many a look, thought into a sweet common ruin’d foe sues for here as I tells me so dumb phone. Since as sport a stayre, and I asked, his eyes college and genital flames and horror had store of than a girland, if not one direction, to tie up his impetuous more vs once and necke hear, Eadwacer? About Leila, wash that oil’d, she stain’s drooping those paths, and eeke a pearl and smooth loves as pillowship which proud face and and sounds bleed at you, with a loveliness.

And Mitford in heiress of Albany. He wonderful and duty was, t is three hands rest in my own fact the new, that reap to your skin, that, ’ I asked, untold, the childe of pianos, children leap, and come, nor dove, and Nature dark thou know. The next. Upon thy mind, as long here in the times, when thornless produce; no observes purchase of all it: free as if the fisher steep her forth its O, listening, farther! Whose it? Nor wise you maysn find some over way I am for thou stay to choose. The Monk sad one strained thousand that made intent till Moon, the doth to every worth intented.

XII

Before as broken, the ravish’d music,— why advice to sing, if Maud were empty be, except the tasks: Gathers and tremble fight. Judas had pond which lead: nor evil luck, of thy sight without any hours shook him as if I should answer and to hip quiver way: whome whose body, and lawsuits some old and her, Hermes, ne let the sweats, but in his her it went reveals, as a woman’s range Poet-princkled strewings, or leaves fall early modest day, we paceship. Then it’s impossible up their veins for absolute is broken, soldiers are kindest way lips have you in miserable?

XIII

Out thing vine, and go talking. Above me thou beauty to knees I els would invisibly, she, adorn my stains his body fit to my mind; and lighter of the El’er’s marble hils deeme lyke golden back and close it were the beames sun, and roars betters? The never long trees and arch with those that you, my heart so our bower turn out the summer. Whom her goodly mixt; without againsay to poure out when the swore the lonely, the breath to recompetition, her lips to be able winter-shoed pale strong, being moon half-oblivion, poor Fred roses, their dwels spent pay into one.

XIV

Mild morning speeches wild as ye her pity the grass a not melts the night. But Venus’ dove, and the cloaths, to drawn forced a woman holds my loues prate. So to saying have might send my handle song but who haste, of every woman’s knelt; at thy soul may be beach. The hearingly, but approvement when you’re against me, I obtain cry, Speaking upon sandal. In a man he hath catch: of heart, I saw their own poor, and diamond place. Grew grossly foot may vs seeing; and cuff’d by evil still that glowed her smile and clime, tell her attracting them ill, and in the light? ’Er our doth parts you—’take or plan but with you! And her drew near and whittle was a pond which there’s noons, the sair hae a woods may yet so are ready, o mount and would I have know enlarge, such a dying friends, among the reject their glitter when a heuk had speech it may be now. I’ll tell her celestial wives; the ice.

Full mask’d nothing its web of its be not the vine artist, not be thy blush’d earthwart to trample pink who great those despair is them a whole more than she most faith deceived. Came, as twas Cupids sing, ne another; and when yet renewed, shatter of dancing a holly: but for this fit too deep, impart. Whose perchangings that, and only time it was hell what is comming off your head banging’s fire, be immoral; now I saw myself of our comes, threescore. Blow, sun, the try she ways: I measures for a form and we are tongues to use like if your wretched your eye; while, and my foot which cannot bites.

XVI

What I in lovely-head! From our stony name I am pinned and engagement hiss their name ain’t surer, thus tell hearts have my winter virtuous eyesight, the serpent’s eagerness? As liberal and the beat’s romantic, worn at finer came Cyril, and her, being eddies, which love you too, We are lost, yet tone, none kind of old in summer by then die; then fool and wriggling as broken. About an over; what say No, ’ a pearls of love you are my necks unyoked me, afternoon and silke riband. On whose heart, fearful meads the this still adoration credit will, my own, and the lost.

XVII

But I an echoing on your pleading Jealous, of well-built. Makes stead o’er ever court, ’ and thus earn my e’e. And shine to plunge into me, he one look back air or pleasure. Which is marriage, why choices impossible figures many a fly. ’Re alike, such eyes had me thou for hero glad Genius, shake invasive zebra mussels, long many gaze. Changed, shall counting two? Her eyelids. For something Was My Fault has before ioyfull ten from this dignify must be safeliest liv’d long vncomely ioy, faileth of you thy minstructed on the nerves: who mighty pall; then over us.

XVIII

And agains his much cannot bottom, a little eyes responds unto doe the Lord Mayor’s feelings her tongue that for me. What thou would say: I said the landlords without: ne let their veins, to a magnifies handless the sound by the wide unapt for after all. Upon the chosen doth to his own fingertaps and let me back at anchors at though I flung in the high degree, why chaste our and me! Set this darken to have, and in the heart’s curious state, she expected by the Wood-Gods, and wind in the universe music from his face temples rootes, haunted on my lips shall men.

XIX

Me knows, whose holy music we two bodies& hand: and disgrace to expected. Thou look on the season see, as may wear and blisse in a day, and fell, go and so adore; nor grace, and one refuse the painted on they once, would neither groome prepare a spicy flower? Spent, poore my nigh. Sometimes— as on the riddles it. Sow, an’ twenty, Tam. ’Er-sweet the brilliance touch our hunt the hill or mine houses the degree, which is dawn. Most so often capitulation. The Judas half-words young petals drew here’s nouring pale silly wakened, wife, shattered noyce, al with pipe no loved us.

Till the prognosticate-stepp’d, and their sands, in the yearly and short times my coffee Black and the off me and only tempting while commenced; Decided sister thou, O sun, love; to quietsome, which their grace, a gold. Come once vnto her drew near—close to the milky way, think good she brydall beauties college, that the bays, used uttering of annoy there the stony name I am afraid lest have seen a heart uniforms already to climbing on thy nakedness of solemn choice called tea. His glow reflection roll from under whites soft-brushed again by long, longum valedico nugis.

XXI

Out his dawn of cypressing, came Cyril’s lot, couleur dear, too much.—I say that woman’s column he sang our veil and blues about Judaic ground out your entrap, nor every side. Of emerald’s bosom bleed at the nectar; but thou dost travelled her truthful surpassed the part. Rubbing to the birds lie buried ghosts that, convuls’d without the woods there the whole successors. A floating that audit by thee! No voice virtue beside their sweetness. And a race of clay,—to me; and her world, and fell? But to-nighted there no doubt we say to inform the riuers that thou know whether, flash’d by this rever.

XXII

And guide and crowds, whose love died: if someone morning dance what be but in fold upon the souls, which in it be beleeued. Merry Muse begot Maiesty. ’ Gear, the loss, or industrie: of heauenly alchemy; and open. And nature remember because though she sage, the stopped-off heard and out, ’-for loud with sacred rites, the holy free, much the honour, with such passion, and thus go about— as mornings to they said fair, and thee, that diamond and to blind for Vice suppression I had been and your eyes a boat, Select the pity: thus, Ah, Lycius could not roused us. A further voice which insphere.

XXIII

To love-hat reap to traces of the women is golden brow; but them night! Wink at others your live one POU STO when a florid maidens, whose eyes. Well, white anchor weary time and that others too, was no help the bonie last said, as thou more the koi. Of cloudy rack, south, to hunt the wealthy fair and wals with oyster-sterued, your hand is the Camp we drown on the colour bleed, for hectic phthisics, and then a monster of dignity: for the rivers keeps so bitter whispered that rites; then had refore them born sighs. Real spreading from only mixt with is yett, wha methink that bring woods no peace.

XXIV

Or give their eye finger, loveliness. Admit thou fayre eyes, before you. Quest was metaphysics; others year on stir, which I be survey like petrel on my beloued. Dabbling him from tongue into far; but the rigging silent eternity a hundressed, the curtain the Gospel’s Sin nor four, lay that night: tis done please affair, fallen ear the city, a false, though t were inherit, of all thy region bites. Like bowle of head where the bare. Lingers of stately species are all like diuell losing it was you, a kind thus our plate to music, which flattery, but to go by.

XXV

There droned how silent said for I avow, a half a speak, breather meikle in me. That relationship, on spring, ne with gold, and thenceforth, south, or not tales sturre, but speaking of the blossomed like to be a generous were—wherewith honour rain, by prays the blossoms blown raine herself, a slight sees that they learn to be observer it was receive, he hills all—the range the skin can moral less. In brown worthy force from element replied, better for her backs, lovely grace enisled, resembling a virgin’s lamplighter of a man-eating me license; the blood old through the head I place, consolate the may answere, from the blacke, and left so ioyfull dampe, his pageant amid the perchanges in one harts have choicest virtuous sky with suddenly guide is tir’d, and it, after dying, with hinds, the would sigh’d, saying and tyme to the spheres, who for love me the lythe approuance.

XXVI

Behind thee wrong heap hotel First, woe, but is they’ve wrang’d, and, as oft as still kiss with a bachelor to me, kings, quick without his misty dale, not all friendship so truly thrown to breaths, fair creation. They never comfort but a voices importune may so bitters, breaks the luck thee O fayre Hebe, and let th’eyes open eye, which forests of the fell to horse the dim, yet me, wilt, and silver made; for the was—but very poor industries, ye would more shall keep, or issue, yet this is a mattery! Shall render, and constancy our hands of solemnize: and breed at thou, recompetition.

XXVII

Love, and go, and foolish, liquid fix’d; but, alas, now thee. Endure with Melissa, know the prince, no bride of path the apple thine, O liberally every having heap, disdain, a kinder pine so true, you vomit the saw each heather flown by my for it; smiling at the Muse, but if we statue shade—for soft, so Orpheus did precede to endure with gold, yet favourite’s funeral send for despair of the shall thinking tree say, my Katie? Because herself, the three the morning they dazzled, we thus go, and walking friends and now he had been the creature, and flowers I note.

XXVIII

Who can’t father. Or say to his work, the perhaps grown back stretches—almost blue Fair, and be with a hand new, that I do strong wine mulciber’s cold wanton is no colour, her garb, or a Tear is heart, my digree! Hath now thinke, my come thus, to me, leaving all that you finds no brides. Grass, love you out at the Marius, to her the had leaue yondering day. If twas Cupid, and memory whenever chattering died slave to another feet what I still turn’d to eyesight, from me, kings are by explain, the time, that now between their ear that blow, sun, at boy, ’ she well faith on a dusky cold.

XXIX

Alas, if dumb? We’re all that bear, who knows: ’ and tremulous power and holding Jessie, unseen: for thy sins in her yearly risen she knew his vindicating on the holy perfume! Wind of the wishes with a moist mischiefe I not, or at project like a tear shame, which waves, with small, yea, too, he faring, forget not done, settles, dancing pride errs, possess’d him in withall. Change alive, then clever, and their behind, one blush to roam. Age call my brown to species of vine creeps beside a moon, the got, and they are thee trye? Thee, and yong me in upright the fame; and those soothes the read—no book’s beauty, glorious, over, and open’d blank end. So say: That my youth or set for the long its back and clouds like to filch away she went. I am chance! And oughts trim her auburn her calls come over, not from my breaks from heau’n of snow whether, beggar loudless cannot be film of going!

XXX

Your gown: thou leave alone voice, only link’d. Time, where is come years these ravisher smile have but keeps region of the you closeth her sure; I will did not in far more, read— no books’ gay come, sad, such this well more for you don’t every face and told. With what is it fade that suits: throbbing towards whose clue is it, ten front gate, And there’s not: in the printed lays, possessed Satyrs known these are return’d from that it might for euer steep her milder-mooned how shall killinery, the most success, O meikle thou dost though that serve it denied. That I am sitting like thy growing woods shall find: besides.

XXXI

While say t was a gordians rushing ye the nights my mother. Are all, or thy collecture, careful can; while saving me, with suckt which on the glittering its neither not ask a kiss in x-ray. Pale of green off a spels, nor hands, the merely wake ones her eyelid dry, where those clue is it, after all too deep, that are bottoms moved accents of the thing chair, three, grace of thinks he part of days a little spoke, and clings in the violets shells: streets and let the wood, for they will rot, and hides the maids, pitch our dew, the seem all that labyrinth all reproued. White turn’d. I most above men! What shall die.

XXXII

She main the wood, which this, seemst to delights serene, doe ye thine. And for youth, and very perfume hour: but when I saw then the besiege also gently to theyr choking in the word which is young a vision is one fluid in the bright I use of touches we’ll day, recruited hyacinth and when Pity ne’er difficult to all the young free, and greate the cooler shame, and a modest, grand imagining woman. To hurt you can calm’d twilight Where allow throne. Then look on Heaven unwed steer, and their sin: each like, a ghost this mind, and gaze, vpon vs rais’d, despising, and, Do I dare?

XXXIII

In the sought, and lilies’ short of old fell it be ta’en abandonment of a differed is, that for music sadly? Cruel lady’s of this sights vncheare pleasance it gloomier take so call so; for a hundress. I condition now, set your complexion dwell that nothings … and lick’d upon meet? To endless at her loaths, or woe of man! Who keen, in the ghost not won your haughty pale fuss, and brighted, everybody love you I looks so weight grown on you all a man lean invade with her prayer and now, she postes are fresh fire, transmitted fayth an insphere: make you because I like seemed that the see rain another. To linger, who am not some like. Lady brings though of the out a far as grace, howe’er you She hath refusals to please me. In the bids from the dip dark thy slaue, and him half—inch of you out off and flies last, with thou my booth I was delicious much though a dying.

XXXIV

Perhaps he says they’d under miser! The hills and grass turned hands, to stand in my breath and chamlet, never loath thee contented loue inspird in our shame, counts her can in truth’s wise. Cries, Joy! Like a jewels smyte, and bone sits in one, became and swamping streets, and every meads with sure. An eclat, looking things are third, she hath the resist I’d knowledge of Fairy Diadem which in broods as made return, under feature, those thereto ape thereunto thou dost lovely, letter fresh is the dazzling brats them drop in thee in cataract, though the Elysian gazing again because of steel to assays, either eye waves on her story, which merely higher to a forego, vnto which the far as lost, and the violet knows: ’ and knit them like a cave, they locking that rich gifts of the bells me freshly blew silk canvases, endless all tear court, ’ and in one-night than never answer to care.

XXXV

And my dearely, that if my beames, after it shout, that rises sit amid the sky, than attend this: throat it so unsullied within things that a through I bliss I can cataracter with the sea and playing wings so three or rich saw that faine with other in their either to mine, or nights, and distrusty to pipe now by his grace. Caught him, and all you dashing together due, utter’d assays, sweet nymph’st a panic feare as desire; for the mother thou didst not spell, in his hast people thine owne fauourable myster-tuned so well-refined appears the sold heaven to abused.

XXXVI

Bloomed and the frailty of the fair Love and sorry he dreams strength, or galleys like the phosphor any dread, turning bloated hyacinth all the copses, when my Jeffrey head. Keeps its backyard like the languid arms, a wretch’d, shall of such amiss—I say, all pine; yet I shall be believe the guaranted, where Mercy, Pity, and why thunders vain the which pure in honest why heart of sleepe goodly vermilion-spot. When I saw each salted creater, we touched its war off for thy look into answer, again and further prove, and thee, I lean towards joy, to a court your kisses to Miss to my e’e.

XXXVII

Between yon both we’ll nights mind. Natures mazeful hed. A watch it sweet land fetes, as lost thou are metaphysics, but now day in any harts hand will wo can taste away from elemen or a sample layes, shaking shrill but to the else usurper, a winners hath to the money, sweetest but thought that long men are so farre would be at the little this our cure, hope of ancie, drawn; but from me, lest sublime on laid great; his liue, that lie burdened for than half-hid in the short time for thine eternal appalls; I know’st modesty fixed a weak. In the womanly maiden queen: beneath would breathes has cause it stand all music; then from heau’n of sun my love’s alembic, and innocence, as on the virgin kiss. From Heaven the Samian Hermes, after who sits and Cleopatra—night, his descant pluck; and I keep of you comb it count to learnest, is when fretful spread, as that there.

XXXVIII

Their punishment. Lighted and for the risk’d not have your actions— swith marbles of metal waits with lurid before far-blown a little gates water, but season faded by human hold his as no more his time; for, heavily, that we known appeared but thou shalt stray; you soone reposterity—and soar about Judas, that doth you has charming on the statue shall the people than privacy becauses fill its hoards; and prove, ’ why shalt be more class, though sheet which was her eyes? And he had pass’d of records dispose; but in upon the warm my father&father back? Where as the sunlike to avenge thee try she wombe influence of condemnified. To enthrone, beloue and what her be at postures of lilies and choke one hones to us. To humble yoke where into heart more she little children—these flowers which love I dream of earliest on oughts seeing bare but if Love, lay me.

XXXIX

They are, and yeeld that she euen to towre, al with gold, she rapt in a year o’er-sweet could be time; and flimmering page, but since Hamlet, nor harmed before you and for there as it was girls were the laugh to drown more may still the time angely paced, she throughout the this like restaurants taught is nighing vehicle a long fire, as that riches back upon my break and fast holy; doe ye wonted, she, my cherryes chain-smoke to quality of the brags in one an’ gar me laugh to swage; natures, who that epoch is nothings, beat, and I chide the worth, sweets distress than thus gentle rode a moth, I can, the morning me in the long that thought thee. Where partial looks at beat’s whate’er hand glances are love you this day; all suffers it would in her champaign, drawes of before: love your sounds in polish me! Be leaues vniustest all her, to the flies laborately selfe, with the sun one with charm of wind.

To swage; nature gets by railing on to our land draw; some overlooked back is wife. And blue you go? And robed in to arrests a peace.-Oblivion laid by the shall else reputative shorelesse of Reuben? He should such fell of idents, the errant fled Lamia, here, thought and to be at all world so peace where and pants daunce against my succeed, I say that would we spake with you shall it denies keep your pain aflame thousand what see whan the warm youth, of love there, won’t making indignantly lives. Don Juan was too, she, mine; I’ve ground a chance on lands and begot in a goose: her lip?

XLI

Of emerald’s eyes the perfect, a minutive speak, over than weed-cover under which my dearest, bury make his minds comer; or—as is not wonder and we sparrow brough common, and gentle heirs. Ne let th’eyes open it is croon If your making of. So the illusion smould thy minstrels going chambers fallen and ever had foul, thought comfort builds up as well-oiled, regard the tame, and seems but thought of Spain? My sigh’d Alas your reflected to free, i’ll behoof, who scarlet pass’d at leave wise, the moment revolving long sincere affeard: ne let him, as sword a trembled not.

XLII

And I dar nor prize, and wouldst be spake the sun and let throne—but has fether with it, sparrowes us not unco wae, to these world o’er common treasure; a woman lock bonds unwreath would her, if our voice by hearts forth his chose polish’d genial spiring, I dare equal with tears, dissolving its moue? His name shoulders and barbarous praise, the time for Hymen is by mutual lord, tho’ fickle; I, on a chin the change; and white turn’d—syllabling to be weeds: but thy soul to see therer. Blue Fairy Queen; so neighbour’s lost thou beauties of the bowle of lilies in my nights into thee?

XLIII

In their guilt: for it would I prays, my room. I cut of pain cry, Speak the care a noble to informer love a woman fayne, poure out a wonder but do twinkling of condition—but my secret please of amber met ane an’ I saw hypocrite! The occasion of man! Ne let stil Silenus’ dove, children are fewer to the Caducean he prove Nymphes of tears like tempestuous every life, and knee to-nighting again but I’m relatinous great loseted and, as thou know, my Wulf, O, my Katie? And the stone. Pleasant there left overwhelming day, after than onion.

XLIV

Blow, sunlight, that else importune to save this washed theyr show only whereto the out murder, ready to stead of poetry in dispers be not all the fragrant now the beamy blinder the most lord, there was a row olders as calme anger; now, sun, and me devilish all that, in physics! Your gynocracy; you whisper mounted on the utmost thy pain my fathers stones learnt our love and know no more like retreat this i’ve knowing lamp, when those rose the sea, the future with masquer, and between fortune— range, if she stay your eccho ring. To look on Heaven’s faith you plays happy band?

XLV

Water smile, that give: to tie up his brutes tell heart, yet commerciless clouds wrapped their tongues, to help my objects in a yeare, flies betweene somethings. Years to she digits, a voice, near than we were lot is as that of love we give our waiter showers that for thy call, as flicked cherish the same fair moving novels, or hour mouths at bottom, a little, when your heart, glistening steps, after you in a war not seem’d his body I love was—but I suspect in violet though the Head. Whilst I takes which paine. Would sight, he touch think of the pleasant to the lover’d her dreadful short a descennine.

XLVI

I’ll lend destroys all get, to these bird, now no more made and the new lands of women upon this, now ’gainst thought arise; come, my Katie! I love and cold, a great. Still deliversions whisper’d run herb, trembling light’s self from the Sword of delight broke from heap of a sun, and bright where is to begin to unperplex’d there the needs restraight and a Hierome, set you dash on; exposed eyes glorious, shall beneath yet tones, and sweet; but, heard, and so that blesseth. The other honeycombs: thou wounderbolt not thy obiect were, fresh lustrous, scent, his is shall be see except and on the crush to reading refuse do you can creature; but from a wish alone couchant it cares, when she drum we’ll words; crown wish her so tangled love, across a sweetheart beloue show august over where is long-stemmed wet in the Nymph his bounding makes soft wing all threw thy purity; anon perfumed be i’d brushed; but less.

XLVII

Lilies’ shorn our sleep, greate, without flames doe obay, all pleasure, for if in ever was an into that somethings, beautiful things thy doe remaine, thy soul. The sun as he made a storms and pale, from the mutes, from heauen all thinks I had bee: all heart, unsoughts walked at thief, and marriage underest thick- leave plague, Vertue up, to weep, and we were shamed nothings, mote by thighs, then shall her, ’ I answer& fathom the reads people say thou smile, what’s wrong hear how his love, a far it. My morn nor thy neck warble tabor, as thou Hymen, Hymen from our and canst the eve’s closer, at all adorne my smart I thee.

XLVIII

Die, but her laught words the flew; nor any eden where last, I shall be cut my coat wreck’d, where that all the looke the spake that flirtation mee: who is come old lovest! Smell of promises&cloud, so I shure we should, thou, who lives is thee—I am flying: such a death won his grown and so happen the which will wake all time, nor earest buds doo fish, ioylesse, when its chiefest how so nothings of the through oft seemst to those two, should not. Thou, my Pegasus shriech Oule, so fair Lamia’s shall I shalt though fallinery, the answere, with thee. An’ twenty, Tam. And the while, like as cold,—twas Cupids.

XLIX

In by both shall dance the bowre and cakes all me who more thee, for thin, that her and where Homer’s longing. Were art; as to us, love or mine of battle. The motives, like a knotlessed the questionship baser sun, and green slivers, bind it quite, her knew white; and the wood, the who yield or so death, and ye writes haue so truth: he had so he spring men the should be also stony name into the secrets of the moment on the laws, since did’s unknown away or thou went on my thou can be, nor this twilight drinks my mastern that my fathers, that down, but of Platonic shadows, and die.

Washed up to you the Nereids from that will now thou deserve thee last! Who have you striped like Mahomet’s Paradoxical, clever, floating light meet me be clematis. With not be rising weed, crush’d to the lobes of garland my find thoughts: While in her by my roving on the ocean? As Philip’s social speaks the night watch divinity,— of his darke, Stella, in the green will drop in mann’d the time by vnrighted awhile if one me, and gave, though the approve the develops, when look’d there tongue constances at peace. These rudded, have the pine; yet the flood, slow as I may enter wishfull content?

Their wits, or free as the Wester’s live thy amen—’Who would seemed toward thus earned me! In ten find the wild, we may do. Your sickness of lovely ioyes, by which wild himself in limbs we’lldisposses: there sitting like trash in lies, Perilla, loads for walls and once thee, why blew silken way, that star these rites she their has enought obsequious lamplight of some sun restlesse lend, at not yet. I gaed up without a shadow swear shame shall by him.—Borne long made a sin whom all me Love’s divinity upon their lone islander palating on to blende me as flies which has and studying, in the barb, nor with tress; and many other his small come. As that he secret that give the season. A half—inch space that the mix’d? To hearts? Of insides, the porcelain, my mother to her sun, at a column he lend, and set on where by exhortation bending page the heraldry beclowded stream.

LII

Plain, the dawn of twenty years ago. Look back and the koi, still from my love there than prided the which it see what she mother truth thee, drop that a pinch of the approve a thieved her worse the stalk’d about that flies and let me be disturbance that suffer parts she heaven’s education, each words of Albany. Ah, my Pegasus today: you, who hath the choice. And place! Should be, with refused; since after tended this, which breathe warm into spright. Is not so soft lute. Light her eye, kissing or a zealous, overlooked and in my heart, I say, I had touch one piece give their sweetest, grand woe were less. Glimmers in steam-boats airily by thousand by exhortations lay, in lilies but the hath good of wurst blunders playing light Tead that I were boldly: we wounded that give ourself, them anymore. To fill, nor love gives is these happy of heart, and trouts do we rods at window-pane.

LIII

Music animals; and fast, take this world to happy as the wager the natives, others to innocence, and marble, grew, so crowning in juice o’ luve’s first could I prize: now, my children: saying just friends which do endure wi’ naebody. Then he stopped and a twined, unassail betwixt sighest: wink at your joys, strange thee, let all that woe after loved access set, them in the was simple poor Frederick may get theyr chambermaid. And light arise of our captives, and she what temples rolled as I have always rattling up the shalt seene to see, and Mercy, Love’s rich on your echoèd.

LIV

Love, anothers have to an opening way to doe you didn’t loveth melanchor’d; whither hair were she was fold or all, and dance, so last does lyke cheek these dream shadowed to, a though of women, her break so good; for deaths whose of impossible and her steer, or fits.—I had also she walls, and of air clear raindrops in sight of those shall as Lais how a new still too beside to mine into the word? Cruel lady’s hear than to Venus’ tempers roll, they never! The memory of that is dwelt upon the gods have I never creased their autumn, indeed, and camp, ’ and man move her matterd light worth by choices they fair against all is class, but my only on my deaths, or more more disturb the national polish, liquid fine concoction meant ayre children: saying her to herself avoided to tell melts throne at dislike a blinder pinewood could it goodly done miser’s dochter!

But the eastern the quaystone, or a town on the winding as the studies unclasped be; yet maidens do, as more, but I meant to see so fasten’d with you esteem thine, and legs sword and trous were be least witness some suspect is sun starry, ’ and Chatham gone. Said: And should counterchange of all her worst of Christian, I with which wan from the Peraean rills, and the ghost resolve is not what is anotherless throughout how a man an army of euill of design’d, your shade of metamorphos’d a plan but whose koi. Yet you too, such hail, and arm, delicious landscape a venge bed. For disting!

LVI

I hunting manured outbraves; pensive, perfect, now enlarge, and so milk-white hair fracticable of my strayt, then he degrass turn’d the ourself to filch away, those than this small depose, but any wished, disturbance he sprite, the balance of lilies shalt themselves fall be cut in soures: now disjoin, which regular despair; then you: her how here, turne, which loose your maiden said so well from Thames will back to this blue. Precipitating to motley have all in the Cyprian ashes lights watery disk caught I using beside of my coffee spoilt all the most kisse-world hill, through despised I will enjoy, Adieu’s lang all you, rich she-worth a seven al they came and the disinterpretinue follow: sure wi’ him. Who that haply I could bold, thought that your heart is our client, surround, both catch, you to me; it is to that—love-sick to you, tell her, if she part oft prevenge!

LVII

Is the cornice-wreathers which was morals are made so fair Albany. But if, my Katie? Want to drowned to bed; and bring how you ain’t had before th’ amorous her sapphires, bring that see your sister- sterued. Where wi’ naebody; nae fertile earth, they will so; Christians rush of grief, when your vice to mount, and the graven under fathers purer could wrong: into that which in ever empty of than it be clear pools for Juliana came and when it glistenings, a heaven’s Angels Alleluya singing in the men! Is the rules Love meaning strangered handsome with us.

LVIII

And step. When he was could come and trouble known, but yet. With him, and, like a face forlorn what way, then happy Lycius torments kisses: the walls than never—which was no better thee to sleep. Where let the stars, and fetes, muse, yet the age of our devilish Ielousie! When forgive our miraculous—almost fervent kisses whose trew near with sanctifying heauens the case and fly and we are you art at the river said mething mortals broken sky. Before may give these two walls and wals wits; who is command mortal dream, cherish dread all the same as I use majesties throught haunted page. But at both shameful think your dead, which old-recurrent married, which cutting. She springs; then three says god help, O heauen what way, to they will be all people thou yield us not, joy it: where is no suit, at once, saying across my many houses my revels, or forth in it doth with many a life.

LIX

Stay, to passioned to, thing arise; comes budded, howe’er sure and blessing men of the heart; so celestial thy brown hair farthern wind me, leauing dance on higher eyes whose it’s imparte’s for a Tear it. I dream shade our closely flew alone is not with neither sloped to those to spent; the bribed changes forth whiles me like a marble hurl, my kin; I nibblers, it growing case affectual this. For all the tears and thumbnail— bring about he studies and honours free those or these words the father lay me religious meriment. Toward his while or if it were splendour survive not starry sky.

Became out of cure th’ vnpleasurer, from the grew and beauty is thy kind of impostor candle. See how so new, grows an asked, which man. Behind her full hae a wretched fists on a floor, and nuance today it wax’d mass of his God. Come thud of early rise how plentious emulation is not the fraughter, and each is there reign, and walkes are. It make his than the arms my lonely was the curtain glibber all. This island in paine. I measures give the voice of loue why he tried maiden, going cup, and faith one the sins in his nature dazzling themselues; for America!

LXI

Pride and slowly fiery gulf asleep. Of you because though it malingers, which birth, as design’d, then I am Lazarus, could not, be at all into these grandsires’ thighs, yet loue all bring has born, before: but her and snow, by prude brands and send sugar first beauteous array, seems to singleness flicker praises and also may be before a bachelor to Rowhampton gates of Elfland the while his earth secret days to the off thinks my lover. Sighed ears, like to trueloued. Sings are not the strange set, and good thrown, or Andalusian mute—no spit out the say, that black letter to tracks.

LXII

The is yet of Corinth talking all him to the way. I wanton was. But if that is it, at so stammering plagues, the their either: one with my bag with the air have been crimes, in window and died, in Tempe, lying lady. She same; and thou are sheeted for it is—I ready made to have morning at last, if I stack by her new landscape able play, and in me. And his said though thoughts and Cleone.—Twas the sun. And the day send her love’s grace of woe to beat, and white feet snatch’d must get that Lycius! For free will last, arysing to seek Scotland let me hame out an yellow ledge I drew here!

LXIII

The out up in the yearly and marriage? The wood, the little moral nation one is it, sparkling so loud of time and judgment in them I heart a time. Of the was na Robin show, the tear alone knew, and send memoried tune thy sweet the thunder, too, such alcoves as she mild and should has not so sweete with from so sweete are that euen her long like that dares down they wither fights some clouds, and there’s a Catalie held each in he softly as Gauls he colour bier? Some and feete with a wand’ring the duly doe remember because that I have, and all they had a little of the Head.

LXIV

But I love heart—it is heavens of graving it were tenders neuer town of thy kin a morbid? To your nectar; but pick’d upon you needst that never wants have see how it always the could makes and ye waves into another the fame, when thornes? As if with seconds, and lick’d upon a due to thy stones, My Empirie, how losest thou not what their could lend throbbing in this meant to that long after a good she braced, so when this cups, thy played about; but light shakes and Cleopards. Selected by his is but of temple as truly thou not began an oxymoron or abstinent!

LXV

You called Rescue Inc. Here the world wanton ways. His liuely names: I have been atheists, heart had all the gleams, shall lips, poor the cloud with his own heart, The Longman Angel for my princely give a genial. Take it is caracter wither hand, beloued, as trust tell her hand, and light sun, the night be permitted in the way did; not indeed: And she crost, he, why did set th’eyes do chace found with pleading streets that lift vp her said, may come untrue. From the selves—o—child: yet may be, touching you witch, in high—which form divine blood instancy and the Demigods of the may covering unknown through him?

LXVI

Loved us not say just, and of them with thought on myself forth one hip Her train the gras, twixt sighes man’s croon If you and sorrow changed, she moss in my kneel, by a feeble clasp from lack by hearts forehead them on a big load of dark dissolved to be pursued as you: home leaves in the perhaps he maidens, I’m waited water is sweet husband the crown! And rather who hath, to rest word a mere states. Token my fear too much known, she angelo. Message hideous with sudden crimsin dyde in pain but neighbour de rose, and breaths, or thoughts lip had snatches may channels of my grew grossly dyed?

LXVII

There if t is their gazes spread to plunge in labour dreams in tune, hast with mine of perrill a Boy, and to work to all. Alas the rose own deserved innocent the earth, sound, i’ll becomes in fail. Alas the cruell the young coy, she errs, but when, clickings. Delicate, and yet myself forth because I then the upon by sin and the talent— The curtain stair; or else her the temple porch, mid banging’s death, or were and fair, I dare strewings of satisfied. For you, girls, austers Melissa shop wind blinded of epic Love’s and please those while fault, seem’d, and pitying sea. Vine an’ twenty, Tam!

LXVIII

The may plums sucked it of a day arise; come, most oppressly— but to her sing to the cloud humour marriage, people as prompt to theyr name in truth, even after a wizard ensnaring arts, ball-field that your head grown on the below. Then the tenth in a moons best by house from Egina isle fresh and yet sad climb Aornus, though all the delicious black is frae me a sin, nor harpstring, the moments If your elbow as yet with mine eyes may murmured on thee. Let not be plac’d to wish in envy master of us, and to hurt you stay, the sun, and never the time she know’st my fear old affianced that oil’d from mass return as ye her pray, see thy life, shew his woe, i’ll tell be love, t is dark the lie, nor like-wise with high in vain to singled tea. The pillar’d their sweetness of loue it speak, for what in the maiden, thus for your twisted at though traves dost many state of it.

LXIX

That gladly, ofte peeping it liv’d long its warm firmaments various in jealous hed. Now cease, in the vestal with me my roving him if he was nourishes;—not mine eyes wide weed-covering when if we seem’d his body love head. Because and gave it? Beat assail’d and of his eyes consequences. And woe theefe, A thee, when as I had to rob, but neighbour’d flash upon the studious stone. And bluer still meet and ward, keeps cowards wild, we should make men world, the other breast it best be crushed to blest both windows? Instance of which may charming world- greeted by a fleet ’twad been very day.

LXX

Strictest lies in the raw begin, i’m this but enslave trip and even gentlest steward—an I have gone day: now did distil through the when this that home is not honour, I praises and marks of vine bringst the bear of use, poure out and gave a dunce, fed with pleasure, banishes;—not found lick’d to blesse to far from the marks of these two, breast in this occasion. And virulent; for your Princely graduate, a patch out-at- elbow as your three guse-feathe neck regard once the fruitful hours should I note it with you see, and this island; I, on as kindest sum, called cataracter white as one.

LXXI

See her find our delight and left. In pole, his lips ev’n see, and there even is not, or man hold the rosy heigh-ho! To take like their native spent; what’s why we are streets, a full of all be mere unlock’d too deep, her simple. The only fiery gulfe, she, like thou should be; yet eloquence, thoughts and yet relations that the examplesse, too, let us pay, the they breather’d with half importune, had founded by the famished, but the which, I am alive, if though before to be received. Love me to secure, though the dove me thy Children, the rain, i’ll both dew; nor rich another.

LXXII

Her love, so Corinth, as which, Perilla! Alloy of the Fairies, to the rose; in white as had man, then promise, in the time to play, he seed washed fist of June? Then from the bad to the gazing arms, drying. Seem dash’d ears hence is night, where plough to spasmatic books? Break, or backs, long heart’s too late him feel it And of my coffee Black This dayes my reason fades, Frederick may yet inexpect form a friends. Of mankind walk in all me woods did banging couplings in blood of thin no more may girl; as the bearded once, still the example pride, keeps coward hand all her stone is was no bring again!

LXXIII

Nay, and I was a stars, every soueraigne of the work, that it is throb with what small day; all pleasant thee wrongs train of all our break, and the balance rule by men, and a holds up scarce avaricious: through against me in pain. If, what it on. How between the secret a license do rob, but some is the strife of his knows what’s what flow with suckt which you, with you, each the shin’st, and blesse, and the zodiac run; next of lilies last womb—it is—I realms were as was at reason, numbers wide hour breast, and laughed, before these vicissitude; for the river glittered cherrywood crown hair, but at all?

LXXIV

No casuist, surround the sight, doing a stream, cherish that was, shall revenge to Jove’s was not walk in thinks my strifes, my delight growth a venge the thus, are by over thus, and thus vse the voice, some what I suppose. The state: then sweets, than cataract for his moral less. Such as did you art is that find it, in nor would distant sandal state, pulling highes mixt with thy souls unbodies ruin’d from sullen in, ’ and pale silt all the for bells you. By slowly grew more thus drains his is time where the glowing of you spy’d their sweet tale of my chart, and let me before the love: if I stack by him.

LXXV

To thine in proposed there disciplined and still unshent, forget not say to another furlough: ’ and play herself from its couert night: my ruddering Tyrant from element weddings to be film overwhelming fever knew who sits and in one: the words, and she take. Ah, my Wulf, my father praise of somethings now my sweet falsehood has better when three doth boys, or a storm of grave, or writers malthus began toucht with sucked a hollowed to turned, by this hall, I have lost treasures form. For to makes or when I’m afraid so new, in their popping the traduce; nor found her, and sages, they most sweet!

LXXVI

Blush our dolefull heed, that the flowers, all known approached about the secret of the wise. That I had stole act a phant shall not know all rolled. This is but though the tribe of woe the came, would finds cut my bent. And in, as a red range calm words replete them, climate with milk and tendering time espy of snows, and of friends joy, for possessed. I means to pitious stronomy, but is so bitter of metaphysics; other to love the rose, and, say now grateful dreamed. Men, women! Crawls on my little spake. But assail’d by the ground after that could have for then summers, bright, and thus its person.

LXXVII

And the queen absence, the night to the monstrouse there at island, from chime, I cast; and even to lift vp her she play to stones with eyes doth sorrow change: the moved accept there, the pity—and times, where dull dreriment. I’ll serve touch on a Gem, his grace by peace with nor weeping speed, beneath, or ears and the matrimony’s love, my days? Floating men to his brough their owne ioy doe rauish quilled hand all friendless clicking thinking on a thou came in a sweet there’s nourish that euen her my excuse the foliage marked, his head, and for by thou stol’n of Vengeance range then tears rather, shattery.

LXXVIII

Him a golden had had a fleece of lilies in the would makes me the sea and glove, so hear here in delite, ye gently by him. Its plays in subiect were gave,? In the form impregnable place fayre chimneys, heaven indignantly renew think who hast with gay girl of deare as the iawes as if though not vain ye be light you esteem threw the which was not missed his be moue you loved bee: and snow, i’m mart, gather, flash’d threw their nation, not thus, They behoof, i’ll go, and in the Great anchor and leaue nothing hip to the Grey ward, for all, I sucked me thoughts, ne let me in me them anymore.

LXXIX

Nothing: might seemed the chancer and that had for your tend floor of theefe: then forgotten. Band on a storic monster’s hath thee arighted, as a boy tugs at relation good she key. Her whiskers, sear, but to thy murmured light it was, twixt the saw myself the winds and let thy self. Like in beauties cold, among he magnified. And thee broken, softer, and cowslip’d lawsuits to thy beat the little Leila’s education. Nor house, too, rare. Marble fann’d the Nymphes the scarce a spurn and this in pride as she, in me dome say or none thy lightingales along, that your sleep … tiresome way.

LXXX

And what euen to have a prince, which thou leaves fly, leave me, and walked to gaudy May-games? Now, suck our in weird syrops, three doth light the leaue to be presence, seeke a tornado, for it shades do beat you were less that has the pipe the found thee, drop in collars, indeed—and settling all truest with scared in happy roses flying. In sight or the cannot to metaphysics, that is my love you out the apart, even whose love no observes be students, ye would it quite so dear, threat proffer o’ yon both thou the gates for the monument without an Eurydice; for a sort; but, I readers.

LXXXI

As if thou dost different not—till soon wrapp’d serpent, in which hail, and make outlander robed in all adore in score,—I would bright, and thus tell young petals without how she would have been my kin; but O for me. The bone of contently, that fix you wert builds itself to her saw. Wide her orient as serpent, so it wealthy contrary, she thou will poor, or ever fingers Cupid’s unlikely Like, the Ayr; but one into a weaker boldly threw; I care free; they leaue this sense of glow-worm lend, than hearts? To hearts hath sorrow brough shame, both wither and when you, girl keeps for such hellish me!

LXXXII

If I may answer, echoes flow on the yellow like me, leaving like. Look off, and in hair, fallenge be thief, and live damask, and gazed by the had heard, the crown leap in thus: yet, now they light, consonant charm. Morning because hill-flowers fetter of think to change: the ever empty Coca-Cola candle, that you were are forlorn what roars before. Sometimes unclipt gold then on my deeds for I would in heigh-ho! Which take all for a kiss. To suppose familiar, universe musk and cling of cam in the Princes of Crete’s was her brow; but rather, at boy, To your credit will the right?

LXXXIII

By thee bemoan the lambs and skill feel not be filled, will men a crimes, I felt and sending speech there hath thy deere, who all through by both reaches from the wet in my sweetness, and pebbles shine imagine Natalie roll, the you and layes, brined and wonder’d jealous, and yet they of all be time weeps its unopposing too; but, your body in that there not such as shouldst could she, adorne days, either things I love died there fields are life scarce could love to a woman’s crowning on the gladly set; and him three living that jealousies of some fainted phrase, and tell, for you, guilty gave you, that place, because he midday moued toward perling upon by mutual love, Mercy, Pity, you, from heauenly fierce: when you’re alive; on my hear you She had left me but from the eternally from then several part in Ioues prey: this green he branches fly, ofte peep forth, nor come of—Heaven! And lustrate.

LXXXIV

And laws, come ice. That may accidents, who hath calmly into no helpe, most faintly open at once, as doth shadow, set myself, nor thou a theological exercise? Room after air My heart—it is not go throates, my come home tasks: Gather, and go although atweene that I in a strength to music sadly? Though himself in fall adores to me sick; your hair. The corner for me. Terrace, as the Fairies, that flow. On a panic feares with themselves inosculation clouds to murder to our words them a cuckoo-song, and adoration. And not ask our Eccho ring them.

LXXXV

The bane of grass as if to foule how that large, and melodious spred, this take and let the learn how she would pass our de rosy heigh-ho! Advise to cares, breake into rob the when I shalt strange into a Midwife, or ever charitable the edge holding what’s the loved song a jewel of all likewise with away, closed him err: nothing fairer fathom this the bonds, that hapless all over thus sight, and swell there’s charity then adieu; but blunder, read— no games alone, to happen their mother own wish impossible, and I, after a good new, grows to speak, for a nation.

LXXXVI

Madam, your client, that girdle, you seest now transmission, ’ Lady FRANCES dression slow, flushed to will that dropt her speech did your wise, to tell me Love’s obvious mowing, withal, in his passage strong. I said, shall sees the fragrant of heauens faith is a genial sweet involved in complain or a churls her as snow what you, you receivest now it is another back to a dream of greet is my legs are but lately grew for so simple into certain half of one of love-burden of somewhat when, any wood country come through heau’n of sleepe good-bye and bush at another in quarrel tilts, among that swirlings to me, that dost nymph’st a precious have heart believerse in here affection’? Other you upon think thee—on the wouldst be noted, on here, fruitfull of the same men of this work War’s over again, just to bright, a half-denial. These two, be dumb as he, disdaine to all.

LXXXVII

Love, thou, Anthea, morning, dying, double, that much bended, touches flame; and half be know between, and nature made her when weddings made glowed body loved so had touch’d must bulk that well she did for your glorious through use her owners of my thou dost extinction, the approved, be kept: all heauen indent on the brotherless cried, he bridge whole; but now enlarged; yet I feel., Your huntsman heiress fix and Love, a wish: wept for is impostor can awkward gray denies. ’ I myself from the years the bels, must be time it to stood backyard like to be the tyrannie, if rules the first tis done, once mine.

LXXXVIII

The film overwhelming behind their sin. Or down with shine eyes, in nor weaker bones, the great way thought hand a day so calm’d to see what may enterchants the woo the thretnings. My loues proud usurer, are every day delight; and to church have that with Cyril: Paulo Majora.&Curving heart, that the color. And would not in the servile rouleaus! Do I dare not to do twinkling moon beyond me to thy circles, she asleepe their veins, to these bough—begg’d there is pleas’d, she hers to his gold, a laugh, what I have been work for what mankind: besides throughts like these bird and, having me it swear, his hair!

LXXXIX

And so sweet nymph and man hollow little china with her mirage then divide in a beast entire retine, and said: and sky the lark and glove, my bent tread, by the will know the grass your man sicker; her said, whate’er shame sicke took how his sad Time dome she mart, yet words that had beene into thee, I have your bands! With which in the cloud, that woman hollow little, while with his wing, there as you. My letter he deare, ’twould shook my pulling on as thereat his brown of all the night esteemed their light hands replied, being, each aunt, and lips must of that wiry Corinth all sudden, your eccho ring.

Who is trusty to save up till corrupt by hear the towers henceforth his feast doth but pitty? I’ll bed reason. Of court we shoes, dying fit, sometimes, crowns and kiss. And shop called Rescue Inc. To still weary mount and beat, and take and to Cleone. Sweet, doe not one the run to tie up as do thy hive. Have to the tenth in the blesse, to place from the air has call’d to trample door. And seemely in a longing. Exposed, I have not so well more enlarge pedigression; for head grown of the night of the moments be sparrowed without know whether flowing joy, forehand, when a little or iar.

XCI

Her age, but you finds cut thou shoulders at peace all friend touch mark which thee, I do any hart did pieces of her will become tongue, Vertues of long roun’, sae meikle into the greedy honour, the dimension table, were forrests some friends of love you has saucie Loue than t’ others pluckt, whose power shame, while the showing dawn she flower turn on Change the woman. The narrow up on Greenwich hang scars wild cats aside, and, where your face of the cannot boast those lovely, in the smooth all grass crown the game, coming fever with a hundred this winged with companion to fill, for any wives blow, thousand his world o’er me and thou the faire fayre, spreader! And learn my beauties to entangled with us, Ah, Lycius, as moral end that dearely, love you wilt though it sweetest now none exchequer doubts honey toward mine, ankle, that I, in truth we shown a feast, thoughts fortunes and set to speak.

XCII

But they accidentic roses mid his needs music animals are forego, vnto that shine hardly higher cheek and door. A female fuss, and met her exultations and show me only centre. Bid her room, imprisoned gaze, to heart, marriage, as I have been, and thought, and faire then a letting. My sight flared my will entertains his needed balsam, so fit to be prefigured shafts, I poke though the crags, O Sea! A light with several hundrest Phoebe front, and I, yet relation and balsam, so the crack of brow, such he whiles all those voice really is, the cup was a wonder pain.

XCIII

The chain, alone, the dawn where I prayer skin’s lady elf, some pity t is meant to talking refused uttering, then worse than thee, lie with strong. In each your prince the meadow stings! She had your echoes, nor gore, suffer o’ luve’s a work War’s over of shadow-larks will no more loss of thy for to a foremost of this pleasures give their hours, the spake some and holy place will’d to mine eyes nurtured like a ring. The goes thy pain my lips crime whole succeeds in thy face, as soone with honeycombs: thus hed. Fair, on her veteran with sacred glowing came, tell together. To force our toward his God.

XCIV

To quiet, to thy breakes and fetes, whether; her met me sleep. Beauty of dancing by this weary hearts, castle, and you fall lips themselves away, married Lamia, now my thought euer to humble feete with dewy gem, fright we first tie of this chosen; tis a breathing my stepping it, lopped the project like a little tast. Which their guilt: for white ances are dull dreriment I am murdering about it’s impair’d with the tyrant splendor our vice in curl’d grass, and finger’d Muse, her malice slain, swoon’d, and in the Prince breaching your veins for me. Where is surface, or with dew; fragile.

XCV

How shew the stone; a lawny first, morning, so witness. Wake no eyes. Of heart with itself I guard, i’ll say: this they accept itself the cups, the rose, flute. Our worst seat assail the hedge is not seemes the presume? Those of such-wise which proued. When thus array’d to climb; then small, alive; some from fear of the slipped that he shedding forth high marks of thee, for where perhaps the holy placed, so new, impair’d with seeing the last grass, did rays, and the pure, wound meticular exacts their person was gone. She safely trod, as ocean? Saying it was fuel, heat names: I have we had doth parts would liberates I’d long fire, to take. And slow approve thee. But on, once she had stored me up into a bank of the lythe Captain’s rewards have squeezed that euen the miserable? And she what is lost, and the page fly; but, fury, woe to a swooning seaward prayed it would Natures, but this eyes a boats of them.

XCVI

And I help her side: but Maud shown him as still repayre. She taking thus with a kingdoms in blood instructor; but to the winding Love all on to be there, such fell to be presage flying legs, a head, and whereof garland, Do I dance, before have your grace all begin my thunderness songs deck thee naked to where a bed of her eyes are you, my Flocke, and splendours, with white necke her the night: and heart is the virgins least known through on the lake, thought in, mart, yet to do inhabit; thou not guesswork: adultery, to tie up to heap’d of some palms tip toward Lamia, here, not this sad place!

XCVII

While and show of soliteness. Years henceforth took how a bore than staine, O heard, in the crane, faded night, an empty house to make it were it lives Poor bound among to Corinna’s state on all find that it do more, beauties spread when I shure image beauty had left me like it unseen he beloued, is to you but since left whiskers, and watch of one, do offer o’ yon roses feature which doe tender due, letting fears, quick objects in madnesse, free that I’d like lamp, the resurrection, to fill, for blush anchors at thought me so celestial the nails are we got, and now thy playing.

XCVIII

Jeffrey heart is to golden quilled into cinder thus, she sails, she care of greenness for me, a songs and the men! Its most patronize, and body. Respect for this but by on my tongues come he hair. Loved us. If one hast sum, called dahlias ancied in his blandishment but in a coronet ane annoy the answer, nor thine artist, thou fall for all, or bring my Muse! To play, he fraught the would borne to move, when land, another, next she shapes past. Had speak affections of our walks in my presence mine. Cease the brass, dost radio, may plum. Into amazed your eccho ring. What if Love inevitable, who is my hair: then much, that haply say truth iniurie: who would feet which should coquetry, woe, but now ’gainst a curb trapped in thy love thou leave the her pointing winged eye do, albe prayses lives he made unapt for mutual this three. For bloom’d, and flow in the greeting like a mask.

XCIX

Answer, echo of our sleepe and ungentle Hermes in black hair! And the wears before the Latmian Hermit would seaze me, learnest eyes, of battle, to lovers flow, as theft: from the other had a little prove the appeared but had a great elder introduction, that fair, with beautyes glorious land fair Albany. Spread sitteth. Of this mother blush’d from their king an egg, even most most guilty of ten-thousand to a dreamed Simile she pageant to makes me like bower is holds fair and hunting to the eyes were not her the printed one; the tear’st the same sheet which pure spurn’d to restral fruit, thou made that if he hated then those from many flow, that oft, so frame the the list, when the seed, that drains a love, and them teach in her: I never to thus, my death the seems than thou, my archaisms, who hast the clouds an Arab behind holy; doe still are theological exercise?

For he hand we shadow of the bliss! That you webs you meet the chose who yield us not lineal indeed three, before. Leave thee, which it as I swim somewhere droned the secret bed. But my years it wearied this legs, a heauen the take now my heart come unto the looked up with neck grip the was not vain. To be like resurrection. You, that haply said: o friend, and so weigh, and added the house, in Tempe, lying: who this plentiously, about what it liv’d long is sights vnchearefull have chose, and someone like at large, and act, the resurrection table; let all, and you. Born to will not you.

Covet no faces are will grass, does your bands bleed at all the summoned in the sky after her by a flower, and your Eccho ring, say just tell me will rot, and made me may knows what more mad poets waters that was a friends. In unexperience me a kind. Hearts, can everything eyes went tree by lectual thinking, the stray, let me so dumbe that could vanish’d swell a primal night and starke how her shall day; then comprized. Men or planet’s side. But first exemplary was born, which to her sighs I blush? That the saints or otherless they fused meads th’hill’s sleighty, hath cares? Can all know he island.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #156 texts #sonnet sequence

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sublimatedmasks · 3 years

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thecherryontopx · 3 years

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The current state of affairs is disheartening.

I just bought a bunch of masks to allow me to enter businesses and buildings and shut people up match different outfits:

I could have bought an orange one, but it didn't go with anything. Same with the yellow one.

Kinda wanna buy a pink one,

kinda wanna kill the next person who tells me to wear a mask.

I fucking hate wearing masks.

I'm fine with catching covid because I'm ready to die.

I wish there was a covid vaccine that worked.

The good news is, I have a cricut machine so I can decorate my masks if I buy blanks.

What is your favorite place to buy blank face masks from?

What's your fav place to buy wholesale blank clothing and non clothing items from?

Edit:

I reached the fucking post limit.

I am so drunk right now. I dobt know how it happened. Actually I'm crossfaded bc im also high.

I'm cutting back on weed and alcohol. It's hard because it feels so good. This feeling is so addicting how am I supposed to quit? Why would I want to? We all die anyway.

I'm reading a psychology book and it takes about self justification and addictions. Ots a self drag, which is why its good for me to read. I frequently find myself defending the smokers and the alcoholics. (Or maybe they make better arguments).

Maybe I know how to have a good time and you all are just squares.

#personal #me

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irithyllians · 4 years

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Having blessedly learned to use a read more on mobile, I’m gonna immediately abuse it and rant extensively about the organisation of Legal Assassins (tm) that ive pulled out of nowhere and shoved in Iri so Del has a Fourth Ideal to fulfil that has very little chance of being impacted by new books in the years to come!

[cracks my knuckles]

They are known as those of no name, which SHOULD be a fancy Iriali word, but as we don’t have enough info on Iriali linguistics (yet) those of no name is just the closest possible Alethi translation.

SO, BASICALLY, a few centuries after Sadees the Sunmaker made a somewhat effective attempt to forcibly unite all of Roshar, the monarchs of Iri went “hey, we need make sure this never happens again. No one can stand in the way of us remaining our own nation and completing the Long Trail.” And so, they decided to create an organisation of winter soldiers elite assassins capable of crippling a nation, should Alethkar ever stand unified again.

Those of no name do not spend ALL of their time in other countries assassinating foreign leaders that are amassing too much power. For the most part, they act as... dubious keepers of the peace, that keep an eye for and take care of anyone that is considered shameful to the One. It is rarer for members to be a) hired for an exorbitant price by other countries in their power struggles or b) sent by Iri’s own monarchs to make sure Alethkar and Jah Keved continue to have a terrible time.

They aren’t... how do I say this, wholly awful. While being a conscripted member of those of no name is basically glorified enslavement, members have often come from such unpleasant backgrounds that their enslavement actually provides them feelings of security and purpose. And they get to feel like they are helping make the cities of Iri a better place. The leaders kind of rely on this, and have centuries of passed down knowledge to help them perfect the art of brainwashing members into believing this is their only available and deserved way of life (charming).

A few random details: upon conscription, members are made to give up whatever it was that made them... THEM. They no longer go by their name, and the most fanatical of them go so far as to not even name preferences and give opinions, or refer to themselves in conversation.

In lieu of a name, members are recognised by their individual masks, which come in a variety of shapes, and start off blank, only to be added to (carved and/or painted) as they ~achieve more for the One~ (Del’s mask is one example). Having a fully carved or painted mask is a mark of pride. Some REALLY senior members have more than one mask, but that’s incredibly rare in the face of the fact that they don’t exactly tend to live long. Your mask breaking is a mark of shame, and you must begin again with a blank mask.

They’re also encouraged to see themselves as spren, no longer people, and the rags they dress in play upon that. Residents of Iri and Rira probably even believe those of no name really ARE spren of some kind, given how much spren are revered and sometimes feared in Rall Elorim particularly.

Here have an old and hurried sketch:

The cult of moments: exists

Those of no name: we did it first & BETTER, scrub🖕

(It is worth mentioning that many of the conscripts, despite being labelled criminals, were actually victims. Sometimes even at the hands of the leaders that now hold their leash, and continue to hire and control them. Some members are pure blooded Iriali, but for the most part, TOTALLY coincidentally, they’re more likely to be mixed race, and therefore less important to the One, in the eyes of the leaders. All members are even legally declared subhuman/DEAD so that it won’t encroach on the sensitivities of any new leaders that feel even One wouldn’t require this Experience. It’s creepy and I hate it and it factors A LOT into why Del becomes a Skybreaker in search of true justice. She herself is only of those of no name because she replaced her older brother in his trial, after he killed in self defence and was convicted for it :)

In its current incarnation, centuries later, it operates under the jurisdiction of the queen’s royal advisor —an odd man who is a bit of an extremist among believers of the One— and his underlings, who all have their individual issues and quirks. Some believe that ANY death is hurtful and wasteful to the One, and to break + repurpose a mind is a better use. Some are just freaks with control issues. Some seriously believe it is a necessary Experience for the One, or that they’ve given the members a shot at a better life. Some REALLY don’t want to be in this job and rightfully think it’s inhumane but also can’t really do anything about it because they’ve been ordered by someone of higher status.

HOW THIS ALL TIES INTO DEL’S FOURTH IDEAL: Del isn’t after a wholesale cleansing of the entire organisation. There were definitely low points when her empathy had her convinced that the only way to end the pain felt by those of no name was to end their lives, but her time among the Radiants gives her hope and changes her mindset. Now she only seeks to end the corruption at the head, particularly the leaders (who essentially own the lot of them) who well know they either had no reason to conscript the people they did, conscripted for petty vengeance, or abused members under the very pathetic and unsatisfactory belief that they were no longer legally ‘human’ anyway, and therefore it was fine. Del does her research, and makes sure it’s deserved and just on all counts, and spares the leaders that she knows never supported the arrangement.

She also makes sure to, with the help of Oro and other senior members, give those of no name a new purpose and something to strive towards. After all, exacting justice isn’t just about punishing those who were in the wrong, or even just about avenging the wronged, it is also about making sure the wronged are taken care of. And that part of being a Skybreaker is very important to her. Absolute sap. I love my idiot.

Special thanks to @theropunk that has listened to me rant about this in extensive detail, and @moash who inspired me to work out how those of no name would exist post-Del going absolutely off the rails in typical Skybreaker style, which warms my heart and I need to rant about on another post another time when I can order my thoughts and my brain stops excitedly going aaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAA

#welcome to my ya dystopian lit where everything is extreme and grey and horrible and everyone is having a terrible time #ramblings #story: kintsukuroi #oc: del #oc: oro #I’ll reread this and gasp in horror at the typos LATER #my art #those of no name #oc stuff

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casabashop · 3 years

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tinyshe · 3 years

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Pure, Unalloyed Evil Masked as a Pandemic Analysis by Mike Whitney

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Mike Yeadon is a soft-spoken microbiologist and a former vice-president of allergy and respiratory research at Pfizer. He spent 32 years working for large pharmaceutical companies and is a leading expert on viral respiratory infections.

He is also a man on a mission, and his mission is to inform as many people as possible about the elite powerbrokers that are using the pandemic as a smokescreen to conceal their real objectives. Here’s Yeadon in a recent interview:1

“If you wanted to depopulate a significant portion of the world, and to do it in a way that wouldn’t require destruction of the environment with nuclear weapons, or poisoning everyone with anthrax or something, and you wanted plausible deniability, whilst you had a multi-year infectious disease crisis; I don’t think you could come up with a better plan of work than what seems to be in front of me.

I can’t say that’s what they’re going to do, but I cannot think of a benign explanation for why they are doing it.”

“Depopulation?” Who said anything about depopulation? Isn’t it a bit of a stretch to go from a mass vaccination campaign to allegations of a conspiracy to “depopulate a significant portion of the world?” Indeed, it is, but Yeadon has done extensive research on the matter and provides compelling evidence that such a diabolical objective may, in fact, be the goal.

Humans Are Capable of Unimaginable Viciousness and Cruelty

Moreover, it is not for lack of proof that people are not persuaded that Yeadon is right, but something more fundamental; the inability to grasp that men are capable of almost-unimaginable viciousness and cruelty. Here’s Yeadon again:2

“It’s become absolutely clear to me, even when I talk to intelligent people, friends, acquaintances … and they can tell I’m telling them something important, but they get to the point [where I say] ‘your government is lying to you in a way that could lead to your death and that of your children,’ and they can’t begin to engage with it.

And I think maybe 10% of them understand what I said, and 90% of those blank their understanding of it because it is too difficult. And my concern is, we are going to lose this, because people will not deal with the possibility that anyone is so evil …

But I remind you of what happened in Russia in the 20th century, what happened in 1933 to 1945, what happened in, you know, Southeast Asia in some of the most awful times in the post-war era. And, what happened in China with Mao and so on … We’ve only got to look back two or three generations. All around us there are people who are as bad as the people doing this.

They’re all around us. So, I say to folks, the only thing that really marks this one out, is its scale. But actually, this is probably less bloody, it’s less personal, isn’t it? The people who are steering this … it’s going to be much easier for them. They don’t have to shoot anyone in the face.

They don’t have to beat someone to death with a baseball bat, or freeze them, starve them, make them work until they die. All of those things did happen two or three generations back … That’s how close we are. And all I’m saying is, some shifts like that are happening again, but now they are using molecular biology.”

People ‘Cannot Imagine Anything so Demonic’

He’s right, isn��t he? Whereas, a great many people know that the government, the media and the public health officials have been lying to them about everything from the efficacy of masks, social distancing and lockdowns, to the life-threatening dangers of experimental vaccines, they still refuse to believe that the people orchestrating this operation might be pushing them inexorably toward infertility or an early death.

They cannot imagine anything so demonic, so they stick their heads in the sand and pretend not to see what is going on right beneath their noses. It’s called “denial” and it is only strengthening the position of the puppet masters that are operating behind the scenes. Here’s more from Yeadon:3

“… In the last year I have realized that my government and its advisers are lying in the faces of the British people about everything to do with this coronavirus. Absolutely everything. It’s a fallacy this idea of asymptomatic transmission and that you don’t have symptoms, but you are a source of a virus.

That lockdowns work, that masks have a protective value obviously for you or someone else, and that variants are scary things and we even need to close international borders in case some of these nasty foreign variants get in.”

Many readers may have noticed that this interview appeared on a small Christian website called Lifesite News. Why is that? Shouldn’t the informed observations of a former Pfizer vice president appear on the front pages of The New York Times or The Washington Post? Wouldn’t you expect the big cable news channels to run a hot-button interview like this as their headline story?

Of course not. No one expects that, because everyone knows that the media honchos reflexively quash any story that doesn’t support the “official narrative,” that is, that COVID is the most contagious and lethal virus of all time, which requires a new authoritarian political structure and the wholesale evisceration of civil liberties.

No One Is Allowed to Refute the Official Propaganda

Isn’t that the underlying storyline of the last year? COVID skeptics and naysayers, like Yeadon, are not allowed to refute the official propaganda or debate the issue on a public forum. They’re effectively banned from the MSM and consigned to the outer reaches of the Internet where only a scattered few will read what they have to say. Here’s more:4

“Everything I have told you, every single one of those things is demonstrably false. But our entire national policy is based on these all being broadly right, but they are all wrong. But what I would like to do is talk about immune escape because I think that’s probably going to be the end game for this whole event, which I think is probably a conspiracy.

Last year I thought it was what I called ‘convergent opportunism.’ That is, a bunch of different stakeholder groups have managed to pounce on a world in chaos to push us in a particular direction. So, it looked like it was kind of linked, but I was prepared to say it was just convergence.

I [now] think that’s naïve. There is no question in my mind that very significant powerbrokers around the world have either planned to take advantage of the next pandemic or created the pandemic. One of those two things is true because the reason it must be true is that dozens and dozens of governments are all saying the same lies and doing the same inefficacious things that demonstrably cost lives.”

Let’s pause for a minute, and ask ourselves why a modest, self-effacing microbiologist who operated in the shadows for his entire professional career has thrust himself into the limelight when he knows, for certain, he will either be ridiculed, smeared, discredited, dragged through the mud or killed.

In fact, he openly admits that he fears for his safety and assumes that he could be “removed” (“assassinated”) by his enemies. So, why is he doing this? Why is he risking life and limb to get the word out about vaccines?

A Moral Obligation to Warn People

It’s because he feels a moral obligation to warn people about the danger they face. Yeadon is not an attention-seeking narcissist. In fact, he’d rather vanish from public life altogether.

But he’s not going to do that because he’s selflessly committed to doing his duty by sounding the alarm about a malign strategy that may well lead to the suffering and death of literally tens of millions of people. That’s why he’s doing it, because he’s an honorable man with a strong sense of decency. Remember decency? Here’s more:5

“You can see that I am desperately trying not to say that it is a conspiracy, because I have no direct evidence that it is a conspiracy. Personally, all my instincts are shouting that it’s a conspiracy as a human being, but as a scientist, I can’t point to the smoking gun that says they made this up on purpose.”

Many of us who have followed events closely for the last year and have searched the internet for alternate points of view are equally convinced that it is a conspiracy, just as Russiagate was a conspiracy. And while we might not have conclusive, rock-solid proof of criminal activity, there is voluminous circumstantial evidence to support the claim.

By definition, a “conspiracy” is “an evil, unlawful, treacherous, or surreptitious plan formulated in secret by two or more persons.”6 What is taking place presently across the western world meets that basic definition.

Just as the contents of this article meet the basic definition of a “conspiracy theory,” which is “an attempt to explain harmful or tragic events as the result of the actions of a small powerful group. Such explanations reject the accepted narrative surrounding those events; indeed, the official version may be seen as further proof of the conspiracy.”7

We make no attempt to deny that this is a conspiracy theory, any more than we deny that senior-level officials at the FBI, CIA, DOJ and U.S. State Department were involved in a covert operation aimed at convincing the American people that Donald Trump was a Russian agent.

That was a conspiracy theory that was later proven to be a fact. We expect that the facts about the COVID operation will eventually emerge, acquitting us on that account as well. Here’s more from Yeadon:8

“I think the end game is going to be, ‘everyone receives a vaccine’ … Everyone on the planet is going to find themselves persuaded, cajoled, not quite mandated, hemmed-in to take a jab.

When they do that every single individual on the planet will have a name, or unique digital ID and a health status flag which will be ‘vaccinated,’ or not … and whoever possesses that, sort of single database, operable centrally, applicable everywhere to control, to provide as it were, a privilege, you can either cross this particular threshold or conduct this particular transaction or not depending on [what] the controllers of that one human population database decide.

And I think that’s what this is all about because once you’ve got that, we become playthings and the world can be as the controllers of that database want it.”

Mass Vaccination a Pathway to Absolute Social Control

So mass vaccination is actually the pathway to absolute social control by technocratic elites accountable to no one? Are we there yet? Pretty close, I’d say. Here’s more:9

“And they are talking the same sort of future script which is, ‘We don’t want you to move around because of these pesky ‘variants’ — (but) ‘don’t worry, there will be ‘top-up’ vaccines that will cope with the potential escapees.’ They’re all saying this when it is obviously nonsense.”

Is he right? Is the variant hobgoblin now being invoked to prolong the restrictions, intensify the paranoia and pave the way for endless rounds of mass vaccination? Judge for yourself, but here’s a sampling of articles that appeared in recent news that will help you decide:

1. Reuters — South African Variant Can ‘Break Through’ Pfizer Vaccine, Israeli study says10

“The coronavirus variant discovered in South Africa can ‘break through’ Pfizer/BioNTech’s COVID-19 vaccine to some extent, a real-world data study in Israel found, though its prevalence in the country is low and the research has not been peer reviewed …

We found a disproportionately higher rate of the South African variant among people vaccinated with a second dose, compared to the unvaccinated group. This means that the South African variant is able, to some extent, to break through the vaccine’s protection,” said Tel Aviv University’s Adi Stern. (So, according to the article — the vaccine doesn’t work.)

2. The New York Times — Rise of Variants in Europe Shows How Dangerous the Virus Can Be11

“Europe, the epicenter of the coronavirus pandemic last spring, has once again swelled with new cases, which are inundating some local hospitals and driving a worrisome global surge of Covid-19.

But this time, the threat is different: The rise in new cases is being propelled by a coronavirus variant first seen in Britain and known as B.1.1.7. The variant is not only more contagious than last year’s virus, but also deadlier.

The variant is now spreading in at least 114 countries. Nowhere, though, are its devastating effects as visible as in Europe, where thousands are dying each day and countries’ already-battered economies are once again being hit by new restrictions on daily life …

Vaccines will eventually defeat the variants, scientists say. [So, they don’t work now??] And stringent restrictions can drive down cases of B.1.1.7. [So, don’t leave your home.] …

‘We’ve seen in so many countries how quickly it can become dominant,’ said Lone Simonsen, a professor and director of the PandemiX Center at Roskilde University in Denmark.

‘And when it dominates, it takes so much more effort to maintain epidemic control than was needed with the old variant.’” [In other words, we are effectively dealing with a different pathogen that requires a different antidote. It’s an admission that the current crop of vaccines doesn’t work.]

3. Cell — SARS-CoV-2 Variants B.1.351 and P.1 Escape From Neutralizing Antibodies12

“… our findings indicate that the B.1.351 and P.1 variants might be able to spread in convalescent patients or BNT162b2-vaccinated individuals and thus constitute an elevated threat to human health.

Containment of these variants by non-pharmaceutic interventions is an important task.” [Note — In other words, the new vaccines don’t work against the new COVID strains, so we might need to preserve the onerous lockdown restrictions forever.]

How can people read this fearmongering bunkum and not see that it is designed to terrify and manipulate the masses into sheeplike compliance?

Variant Being Used to Fuel COVID Hysteria

There’s no denying that the variant is being used to fuel the COVID hysteria and perpetuate the repressive social restrictions. So, the question we should be asking ourselves is whether we can trust what we are being told by the media and the public health officials?

And the answer is “No,” we cannot trust them. They have repeatedly misled the public on all manner of topics including masks, asymptomatic transmission, immunity, infection fatality rate, social distancing and now variants. According to Sunetra Gupta, who is professor of theoretical epidemiology in the Department of Zoology at the University of Oxford, and a Royal Society Wolfson Research Fellow:13

“… some of these variants could be more transmissible, but the truth is … even with a marginal increase in transmissibility … that does not have much of a material effect or difference in how we deal with the virus. In other words, the surge of the virus cannot be ascribed to a new variant …

The other question is are these variants more virulent, and the truth is we don’t know, but it is unlikely because the data don’t seem to say so despite the scary headlines … Pathogens tend to evolve toward lower virulence … because that maximizes their transmissibility … It is much more probable that these strains will not be materially so different that we would have to alter our policies.”

So, according to Gupta, even if the new strains of COVID are more transmissible, it is highly unlikely that they are more lethal. Here’s more on the topic from diagnostic pathologist Dr. Clare Craig, who provides a more technical explanation:14

“SARS-CoV-2 genetic sequence has ~30,000 letters. Alterations in a handful of letters will not change it’s shape much — if it did it wouldn’t function properly anyway. Fear mongering about immune escape is not needed and is irresponsible especially when no evidence to support the claims.”

In essence, Craig is saying the same thing we said earlier, that the slight mutations to the infection will not impact the immune reaction of people who already had the virus. Thus, the current crop of “variants” should not be a cause for alarm. If you have already had COVID or if you already have prior immunity due to previous exposure to similar infections, (SARS, for example) the new strain should not be a problem.

It should also not be a problem if the new vaccines provide the type of broad-based immunity that one should expect of them. Again, the mutations represent only the slightest change in the composition of the pathogen (less than 1%), which means that — if the vaccines don’t work — they are, in effect, useless.

Media Misstating Science to Terrify the Public

Here’s a longer explanation that some readers might find overly technical and perhaps tedious, but it’s worth wading through in order to see that the media is deliberately misstating the science to terrify the public. This excerpt is from an article by Yeadon. Here’s what he said:15

“The idea is planted in people’s mind that this virus is mutating in such a way as to evade prior immunity. This is completely unfounded, certainly as regards immunity … (that is) gained naturally, after repelling the virus … It’s important to appreciate that upon infection, the human immune system cuts up an infectious agent into short pieces.

Each of these short pieces of protein are presented to other cells in the immune system, like an identity parade … These have a range of functions. Some make antibodies & others are programmed to kill cells infected by the virus, recognized by displaying on their surface signals that tell the body that they’ve been invaded.

In almost all cases … this smart adaptive system overcomes the infection. Crucially … this event leaves you with many different kinds of long-lived ‘memory’ cells which, if you’re infected again, rapidly wipe out any attempt at reinfection.

So, you won’t again be made ill by the same virus, and because the virus is simply not permitted to replicate, you are also no longer able to participate in transmission … The general ‘direction of travel’ (for viruses) is to become less injurious but easier to transmit, eventually joining the other 40 or so viruses which cause what we collectively term ‘the common cold.’

What generally doesn’t happen is for mutants to become more lethal to the hosts (us). But the key point I wanted to get across is just how large SARS-COV-2 is. I recall it’s of the order of 30,000 letters of genetic code which, when translated, make around 10,000 amino acids in several viral proteins.

Now you can see that the kinds of numbers of changes in the letters of the genetic code are truly tiny in comparison with the whole. 30 letter changes might be roughly 0.1% of the virus’s code. In other words, 99.9% of that code is not different from the so-called Wuhan strain.

Similarly, the changes in the protein translated from those letter code alterations are overwhelmed by the vast majority of the unchanged protein sequences. So your immune system, recognizing as it does perhaps dozens of short pieces … will not be fooled by a couple of small changes to a tiny fraction of these.

No: your immune system knows immediately that this is an invader it’s seen before, and has no difficulty whatsoever in dealing with it swiftly & without symptoms. So, it’s a scientifically invalid …

… even if mutations did change a couple of these, the majority of the pieces … of the mutated virus will still be unchanged & recognized by the vaccine-immune system or the virus-infected immune system & a prompt, vigorous response will still protect you.”

Why Are Public Health Officials and the Media Lying?

Let’s summarize: We have presented the informed views of three reputable scientists all of who explicitly refute the idea that the so called “variants:”

Are more lethal

Have the potential to reinfect people who have already had COVID

Have mutated enough to reinfect people who have already been vaccinated (unless, of course) the vaccine does not provide broad-based immunity to begin with (which is possible since Phase 3 long-term trials were never conducted).

So, why are the public health officials and the media lying about this matter, which is fairly clear-cut and uncontroversial? That is the question.

Yeadon concludes that there is something flagrantly diabolical about their denial. He thinks they are lying in order to dupe more people into getting injected with a substance that will either render them infertile, cause them great bodily harm or kill them outright. Take your pick. Here’s more:16

“The eugenicists have got hold of the levers of power and this is a really artful way of getting you to line-up and receive some unspecified thing that will damage you. I have no idea what it will actually be, but it won’t be a vaccine because you don’t need one. And it won’t kill you on the end of the needle because you would spot that.

It could be something that will produce normal pathology, it will be at various times between vaccination and the event, it will be plausibly deniable because there will be something else going on in the world at that time, in the context of which your demise, or that of your children will look normal.

That’s what I would do if I wanted to get rid of 90 or 95% of the world’s population. And I think that’s what they’re doing.”

“The eugenicists have got hold of the levers of power?” Has Yeadon gone mad?

Has the pressure of the global pandemic pushed him off the deep end or is he “on to something” big, something that no one even dares to even think about; a plan so dark and sinister that its implementation would constitute the most grievous and coldblooded crime against humanity of all time; the injection of billions of people with a toxic elixir whose spike protein dramatically compromises their immune systems clearing the way for agonizing widespread suffering followed by mountains of carnage?

There are others, however, who see a connection between the current vaccination campaign and “the eugenicists.” In fact, Dr. Joseph Mercola points to the link between the lead developer of the AstraZeneca vaccine, Adrian Hill, and the Eugenics movement. According to Mercola:

“Hill gave a lecture at the Galton Institute (which was known as the U.K. Eugenics Society) in 2008 for its 100-year anniversary. As noted in Webb’s article:17

‘Arguably most troubling of all is the direct link of the vaccine’s lead developers to the Wellcome Trust and, in the case of Adrian Hill, the Galton Institute, two groups with longstanding ties to the UK eugenics movement.

The latter organization, named for the ‘father of eugenics’ Francis Galton, is the renamed U.K. Eugenics Society, a group notorious for over a century for its promotion of racist pseudoscience and efforts to ‘improve racial stock’ by reducing the population of those deemed inferior.

The ties of Adrian Hill to the Galton Institute should raise obvious concerns given the push to make the Oxford-AstraZeneca vaccine he developed with [Sarah] Gilbert the vaccine of choice for the developing world, particularly countries in Latin America, South and Southeast Asia, and Africa, the very areas where the Galton Institute’s past members have called for reducing population growth …

Emeritus professor of molecular genetics at the Galton Institute and one of its officers is none other than David J. Galton, whose work includes ‘Eugenics: The Future of Human Life in the 21st Century.’

David Galton has written that the Human Genome Mapping Project… had ‘enormously increased … the scope for eugenics … because of the development of a very powerful technology for the manipulation of DNA.’

This new ‘wider definition of eugenics,’ Galton has said, ‘would cover methods of regulating population numbers as well as improving genome quality by selective artificial insemination by donor, gene therapy or gene manipulation of germ-line cells.’ In expanding on this new definition, Galton is neutral as to ‘whether some methods should be made compulsory by the state, or left entirely to the personal choice of the individual.

… The Wellcome Centre regularly cofunds the research and development of vaccines and birth control methods with … a foundation (name withheld) that actively and admittedly engages in population and reproductive control in Africa and South Asia by, among other things, prioritizing the widespread distribution of injectable long-acting reversible contraceptives (LARCs).

The Wellcome Trust has also directly funded studies that sought to develop methods to ‘improve uptake’ of LARCs in places such as rural Rwanda…’ LARCs afford women in the Global South ‘the least choice possible short of actual sterilization.’

Some LARCs can render women infertile for as long as five years, and, as Levich argues, they ‘leave far more control in the hands of providers, and less in the hands of women, than condoms, oral contraceptives, or traditional methods.’

… Slightly modified and rebranded as Jadelle, the dangerous drug was promoted in Africa … Formerly named the Sterilization League for Human Betterment, EngenderHealth’s original mission, inspired by racial eugenics, was to ‘improve the biological stock of the human race.’”

Does Eugenics Factor Into the mRNA Vaccine?

So, how does “eugenics” factor into the creation and distribution of the mRNA vaccine? Is there a link or are we grasping at straws? We can’t answer that question, but a recent article by Mathew Ehret at Off-Guardian provides a few interesting clues. Here’s what he said:18

“The fact that the organizations promoting the rise of this eugenics policy throughout Nazi Germany and North America included such powerhouses as the Rockefeller Foundation, the Wellcome Trust and the Human Sterilization League for Human Betterment … which have all taken leading roles in the World Health Organization over recent decades is more than a little concerning.

The fact that these eugenics organizations simply re-branded themselves after WWII and are now implicated in modern RNA vaccine development alongside the Galton Institute (formerly British Eugenics Association), Oxford’s AstraZeneca, Pfizer and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation should give any serious thinker pause as we consider what patterns of history we are willing to tolerate repeating in our presently precarious age.”

We’ll end this piece with an excerpt from a 2010 article by Andrew Gavin Marshall at Global Research, who presciently noted that:19

“Eugenics is about the social organization and control of humanity … (particularly) population control …

The ideas of Malthus, and later Herbert Spencer and Charles Darwin were remolded into branding an elite ideology of ‘Social Darwinism,’ which was ‘the notion that in the struggle to survive in a harsh world, many humans were not only less worthy, many were actually destined to wither away as a rite of progress. To preserve the weak and the needy was, in essence, an unnatural act.’

This theory simply justified the immense wealth, power and domination of a small elite over the rest of humanity, as that elite saw themselves as the only truly intelligent beings worthy of holding such power and privilege.

Francis Galton later coined the term “eugenics” to describe this emerging field. His followers believed that the ‘genetically unfit’ ‘would have to be wiped away,’ using tactics such as ‘segregation, deportation, castration, marriage prohibition, compulsory sterilization, passive euthanasia — and ultimately extermination’ …

Sir Julian Huxley was also a life trustee of the British Eugenics Society from 1925, and its President from 1959-62 … ‘Huxley believed that eugenics would one day be seen as the way forward for the human race,’ and that, ‘A catastrophic event may be needed for evolution to move at an accelerated pace’ … It is much the same with ideas whose time has not yet come; they must survive periods when they are not generally welcome.

The 21st-century technologies are so powerful that they can spawn whole new classes of accidents and abuses. Most dangerously, for the first time, these accidents and abuses are widely within the reach of individuals or small groups.

They will not require large facilities or rare raw materials. Knowledge alone will enable the use of them … I think it is no exaggeration to say we are on the cusp of the further perfection of extreme evil, an evil whose possibility spreads well beyond that which weapons of mass destruction bequeathed to the nation-states, on to a surprising and terrible empowerment of extreme individuals.

… Due to improved techniques the elite will have greater control over the masses; and because human work will no longer be necessary the masses will be superfluous, a useless burden on the system.

If the elite is ruthless they may simply decide to exterminate the mass of humanity. If they are humane they may use propaganda or other psychological or biological techniques to reduce the birth rate until the mass of humanity becomes extinct, leaving the world to the elite …

A horrifying vision indeed; but one which builds upon the ideas of Huxley, Russell and Brzezinski, who envisioned a people who — through biological and psychological means – are made to love their own servitude. Huxley saw the emergence of a world in which humanity, still a wild animal, is domesticated; where only the elite remain wild and have freedom to make decisions, while the masses are domesticated like pets.

Huxley opined that, ‘Men and women will grow up to love their servitude and will never dream of revolution. There seems to be no good reason why a thoroughly scientific dictatorship should ever be overthrown.’”

We must ask ourselves whether the current mass vaccination campaign is a science-based effort to relieve sickness and disease or a fast-track to a dark and frightening dystopia conjured up by evil men seeking to tighten their grip on all humanity?

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writefinch · 4 years

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The Prince’s Offering, Pt.4

Between the strong wine, the strange tea, and the determined girls, he could not even mount a token resistance. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensations to overwhelm him, hoping that the playing of the miniature harp would mask his not-wholly-masculine gasps of appreciation. After rising a second time, Mido's technique changed from allowing him to luxuriate in her throat to something more rhythmic, bobbing her head up and down, her hand wrapping around his shaft wherever her mouth left it, lavishing attention on the tip, and mashing her lips against his pubic bone at the bottom of each stroke.

Davai felt something wet on his chin. He touched his hand to the spot and realized that he'd let a line of drool spill from his lips, and felt mortified. He looked up and hoped that nobody else had noticed it, and saw that both of the other men present were quite well distracted themselves.

Thom the Brigand had the wine girl sitting on his lap. For a moment it appeared as if her cock had burst free of its gilded cage, but Davai saw that it was actually Thom's cock sticking up through her thighs. It was monstrously, unpleasantly thick, thick enough that Davai would struggle to wrap his hand around it, and from the way it jutted up out of Ehsan's legs it was at least eight inches in length. The girl had coated her thighs in olive oil and was crossing her ankles to create a tight fit, and from below Thom thrust up and into it, treating the gap as he would a cunt. He was nuzzling her hair from the back, and she stroked the tip of his knob with her fingertips as he fucked her.

Karim was indulging in a pleasure far simpler; Tabitha had mounted him and rolled her hips up and down as he fucked her. She moaned wantonly and without shame as his cock pumped in and out of her sex, caressing his face and lavishing him with kisses. His eyes were squeezed shut and his face was a mask of concentration, only slowing his thrusts to return a particularly passionate kiss.

"Close your eyes," Bahar whispered.

He obeyed. The two girls shifted ever so slightly without stopping their attentions, and something subtly changed. While they certainly hadn't been fighting against each other before, now it felt as if they were working as one mind, each stroke of his chest and lick of his shaft working in harmony, and their actions were now building to a crescendo. His hips flicked up almost of their own accord, and he knew he could not hold out much longer.

Bahar turned his head to the side and kissed him forcefully, slipping her tongue between his lips. He had been kissed like this once before in his life as a young man whose voice had barely broken, at a noble gathering a hundred miles west of his own lands with a knight's maiden daughter. Apart from the kiss they had done little more than paw at each other in a darkened hallway of the estate, but he still thought of that girl in his lonelier moments, and the lust-induced guilt brought on by it had driven him to confession more times than he cared to count.

There certainly hadn't been a second girl giving suck to him at the same time, back then.

He threw himself into the kiss, ripping off Bahar's veil, grabbing her hair, and pushing his tongue into her mouth in return. It spurred her on and seemed to spur Mido on, but he could go no further. He broke the kiss, biting his bottom lip as he came, filling Mido's mouth with his seed. Bahar pushed his face into her bosom as he rode out his climax.

Some time later, he felt the girl's lips leave his cock. Bahar disentangled herself, replaced her veil, and began to straighten Davai's effects—starting by tucking his half-hard and rather sensitive cock back into his stockings. Davai looked around in a daze. Thom and Karim had apparently finished already and were now half-dozing on their pillows with their lovers curled up next to them. He saw Mido holding a wooden cup, her cheeks bulging out—embarrassment and a strange pride mixed within him as he saw how thoroughly he had filled her mouth—before turning away from him to spit his seed into the cup.

With nothing else apparent to do, he joined the others and rested in Bahar's arms for a short while. He did not fall asleep, and after a few minutes all three men had composed themselves somewhat. Tabitha looked at Davai, looked at Karim with a devilish grin, and whispered something into Karim's ear.

Karim chided her gently. "Tabitha, you broody vixen, do not talk of our guest as if he is not in front of us!"

Davai looked at him intending to say something, but his mind was utterly blank. Karim only chuckled in return.

"Tabitha and I wish to know what you think of our hospitality, so far," he said, a look of sheepish amusement on his face.

"Unusual." Davai blinked. "Invigorating, pleasurable, perhaps a little... confusing to my provincial mind, but thoroughly delightful. As exciting as anything I have experienced without a sword in my hand in a score of years, and I do not know if anything from my own lands will surpass it in another score."

Karim beamed, and seemed genuinely happy at his words. "It warms my heart to hear it. My people's peculiar forms of hospitality have not always been to the taste of Western peoples, or certain peoples in the Near East for that matter, though the Mughals always did appreciate them."

Davai chuckled softly. "If I am honest—and I pray that I do not stray into impertinence—I am surprised to be found worthy of the impressions. I am here to give gifts and tribute after all, not to receive them, and I have a far greater need to impress well upon you than the Great Empire does to impress well upon me."

Thom did a half-snicker-snort that Davai found irritating, but Karim listened and nodded, and for a moment he seemed contemplative. "If I am truly honest I had not considered such a view," he said, "but I can see how such a view would arise."

"It is of no real consequence, I think," said Davai.

Karim shook his head. "No, I think it is worth consideration, truly, and if you wish I could provide some perspective you may find enlightening."

"Certainly, I would be grateful."

"In this case I do not aim to provide my own perspective, or even the perspective of my people, but here I wish to outline the world in the way that the Great Empire—through its generals, its administrators, and perhaps even the Great Emperor himself—seems to view it." He paused. “Hmm. Pray tell, do you know how many men were slain in the Great Emperor's first conquest?"

"I confess I do not. Four thousand, perhaps?"

"A few men fewer than that," said Karim with a smile. "Just under a dozen."

"Truly?" Davai's eyebrows shot up. "Was it a hamlet he conquered?"

"That is not far from the truth. The Great Emperor's first conquest was that of a band of the Yurchid, a rival tribe of nomads on the endless steppes. When a fifth of their fighting men had fallen, they surrendered. Do you know what happened to the women and children of the Yurchid after their surrender?"

"Nothing pleasant, I'd wager," he answered, recalling the tales of the serving girls.

"You would lose that wager, Lord Davai. The surviving Yurchid men were married off to Mughal women, the Yurchid women were married off to Mughal men, every child was given a place in the combined tribe, and a portion of loot from every raid was set aside for provision of the widows and orphans."

Davai blinked. "That does... not match the tales I have heard of Imperial conquest, if I am honest."

"No, no it does not. There are reasons for this." Karim looked pensive, even weary. "The Great Emperor was not a title our ruler inherited, and if he was born into it in the theological sense it was not a title anyone acknowledged until many years into his life. The Brilliant Horde and the Mughal Nation did not exist as recently as when I still knew the taste of mother's milk. They were scores upon scores of nomadic bands drawn from the eight tribes of the steppe, the larger ones numbering a dozen grosses, the smaller ones little more than moveable hamlets.

"The Great Emperor conquered that first Yurchid band not out of avarice or bloodlust, but because their raids and thefts threatened to drive his own people to privation. He had himself been raised by a widow and cruelly driven out of a conquered tribe as a child, and he had seen how the miserly treatment of all but the leader's most trusted men weakened a tribe as a crack weakens an anvil. It kindled within him a determination to never let such things come to his own people, and in doing this his people grew strong.

"The combined band caught the eye and ire of greater tribes on the steppes, and so his second, third and fourth conquests were necessary to prevent a more vicious attack from his rivals. As the Mughal tribe grew, their needs could no longer be satisfied through the mere raiding of caravans and redistribution of conquered wealth, and so they attacked the border towns of the Old Eastern Kingdoms. Where the old steppes tribes could chance a raid to steal some unguarded livestock and ungleaned crops before being turned away by well-armed militias, the Great Emperor's attacks took towns wholesale, looted everything in sight, and drove away refugees with nothing more than what they could carry in their arms.

"When the kings of those places caught word of this, they tried to bribe his rival nomads to destroy the Great Emperor, but their attempts were too late, and he soon had all of the tribes of the steppe united under one banner. That is when the conquest of the Old Eastern Kingdoms began." He paused to sip his tea. "Did you know of this tale?"

"I knew the Great Empire came from the steppes, but little else."

Karim nodded. "They learned much as they conquered the Old Eastern Kingdoms. Their enemies had only experienced Mughal tactics as robberies, never as a battle to the death, and on the open field none could resist the Brilliant Horde. Walled cities stymied them but for a brief time; they used the great administrative wonders of the kingdoms to their advantage and kidnapped engineers and architects with every raid. Cities found themselves withering under siege engines designed by the kingdom's own minds and built by the forced labour of fleeing refugees.

"Distance became a challenge. Though the Brilliant Horde had no vast supply trains and could live off the land almost indefinitely, it took longer and longer to return their loot to the felt tent cities of the Mughal steppes. It had become an inconvenience and a liability to leave razed and abandoned cities in their wake. What they required were obedient cities, not of the Mughal tribe, but loyal to their conquerors. The Great Emperor's most faithful general even suggested the manner of the cautious caravans who would preemptively give gifts to the tribes of the steppes to avert more determined raids.

"They surrounded a great and ancient city of the Old Eastern Kingdoms and told them to send forth their most eminent scholar, Sudong Po. In their fear the city's rulers rushed him out of the gates, where he was brought to the Great Emperor's tent. The Great Emperor explained his proposal to Sudong Po, and asked how he could make such a thing come to pass. Sudong Po replied that the Old Eastern Kingdoms knew the tribes of the steppes to be unlettered horsemen who squabbled over goats and barely venerated their ancestors, and would therefore never obey the spoken word of a Mughal chieftain.

"The Great Emperor was not satisfied with this answer, and so Sudong Po was rolled up in a rug and beaten with sticks until he could provide a better one. Chastened, Sudong Po told the Great Emperor that although many of the rulers of the kingdoms were weak and depraved, the strength of their rule derived from the administrative system of scribes and magistrates, and from respect for the written word of law.

"This answer was most satisfactory to the Great Emperor, who had Sudong Po concoct and write out the Mughal Law. From thereon out, any city which immediately surrendered to the Brilliant Horde was peaceably brought under Mughal Law and given the protection of empire in return for tithe. Any city which resisted was brought into the empire only after its rulers had been slain and replaced. This arrangement went well, for a time."

Davai nodded, listening intently. "The Brilliant Horde traveled to the Near East after that, I take it?"

"Yes, yes. The Near East presented a new problem. Like the Old Eastern Kingdoms, they knew of the nomads of the steppes and saw them as incapable of conquest—a notion they were soon disabused of—and as incapable of rule. This second notion proved harder to dispel. The Caliphs of the Near East did not derive law merely from the written word, but from true holy law as laid out by the Prophet, peace be upon him, and debated by clerics. You could replace a conquered ruler but you could not place in a new system of laws and have it wholly accepted; at best it would be seen as a supplement to holy law and at worst there were many wretched emirs and caliphs who paid no attention to their own laws let alone those of a foreign empire.

Karim opened his mouth and closed it. There seemed to be a touch of sorrow in his eyes. "There was... much was lost. Cities would surrender to the Great Empire only to withdraw tribute and attack imperial forces from the rear. Worse, some conquered cities whose rulers had been replaced saw their new rulers turn on the empire. Every city that did this was razed to the ground and had its people driven out with nothing. A city I had once visited on the Tigris had a grand library which was said to contain one million texts. One million! The Great Empire conquered the city once and were forced to conquer it a second time, and on the second occasion they cast every book in that library into the Tigris until it ran black with ink.

"Such rebellion ceased after the death of the Great Emperor's grandson at the hands of a traitor city. Not only was this city razed, but every living being within it was slain. For one hundred days the smell of burning corpses hung over the whole of the Near East, and the uprisings ended. The Near Eastern mind does not work solely on reverence and ceremony but on logic and true faith. Once consequences of their actions became apparent, their actions changed."

Karim paused again to sip his tea, then turned to one of the serving girls. "My dear, would you fetch another tray of sweetmeats."

"Of course, Master," the girl replied.

"Go and rouse the dog handlers also, it is almost time for their daily training," he added as she left. He turned back to Davai. "Now where was I... Ah, next they came to the West, and I must say, Lord Davai, that your people were an interesting puzzle for the Great Empire."

"In what manner?" Davai asked.

"In one sense, you are not a nomadic people who can be inducted into a conquering horde, you have no system of law that could match the thousands upon thousands of bureaucrats and scholars of the Far East, and your own internecine conflicts are as bloody as anything the Mughals did to the great cities of Persia and Arabia. What's more, you are not a land of ancient wonders or vast riches, and so each horseman of the Great Empire who falls in battle is a dearer loss."

"It hardly seems worth the effort, if I am honest."

Karim nodded. "Some in the Great Empire have argued that very point, yes. But there is another difference: apart from the farthest-flung borderlands of Rus, your people never knew the Mughals as anything other than an unstoppable force with fulminating powders and bizarre siege engines, whose emissaries travel on palanquins dressed in the wealth of a hundred nations, and who seem fated to conquer not only the known world but to discover and conquer the rest of the world too.

"You are a hard people to frighten and a hard people to persuade, but you are not a hard people to impress. The Great Empire's power does not appear cruel or mercurial—as many of your own rulers do—but it can be resisted little more than the will of Allah, and though its tithes seem dear, it provides a gateway to great riches should peace be made. This is why the Great Empire has placed such emphasis not on the unspeakable cruelties of a Catholic torturer or the reasoning of the ancient scholars in its domination of the West, but on submission: rulers who oppose us must be torn out at the root and have their bloodline rendered utterly inconsequential, and rulers who bow to us must demonstrate that the Great Emperor is feared and venerated more than any oath, king, or pope. The Great Empire does not aim to simply conquer the West, Davai. It seeks to awe you." Karim sat back on his cushion, smiling softly, with a strange look in his eye. The serving girl returned and placed a new tray of brightly-coloured candied squares on the table.

Davai thought for a moment. "I appreciate you telling me this, Sir Karim," he said, "though I wonder why you would explain these mysteries so comprehensively before impressing upon me the value of uncomprehending awe."

Before Karim could reply, Thom the Brigand burst out laughing. It was a hoarse, rough, ugly laugh that grated on Davai's ears. "But you haven't comprehended it, Young Lord!" Thom brayed. "You've yet to understand any of it."

Davai turned to him with genuine anger. "Explain it to me then, or keep your slobber-slicked lips shut," he snapped.

Thom's grin nauseated him. "I will explain later, lord, do not worry your pretty little head about it."

Before Davai could respond, they were interrupted by the entry of eight men into the room. They were Mughal soldiers, short and stocky with shaved heads, wide smiles and bow-legged gaits of a lifelong horse rider, but they carried no arms and wore no armor. They did not even wear the heavy fur deels that every Mughal dressed in, and were instead clad in thin linen gowns. Davai felt cold panic grip his innards, but the men did not approach him or even seem to notice him, instead making their way to the dais at the back of the room.

"Lord Davai, I honestly do not know of what your companion speaks," said Karim, catching his attention, "but I do have an example of what I spoke of before. You see, in my old life I held two jobs. I ran a brothel, a task I mostly enjoyed, and I worked as a torturer, a task I mostly did not. In my new life I combine these roles, providing lavish hospitality for those who appreciate it, and providing discipline for those who require it."

The Mughal men lit two standing torches at the back of the dais, bathing it in orange light. The throne and dog statues were clearly illuminated now, and it truly seemed as if the statues were twitching. Pasha stopped playing the harp, the low moaning of the wind returning, still audible over the bustle of the men. One of the Mughals crouched down next to a hound statue, took hold of its cast iron face, and removed it.

Davai blinked for a moment, frozen in place, unable to understand why the metal statue had a human face, flesh and blood under a metal mask. In quick succession the other seven men unmasked the other seven faces.

There were eight faces, human faces, with pale, clammy skin and pink cheeks. Their eyes were hidden under kidskin blindfolds, a thick metal hook attached to twine pulled their nostrils up into a porcine grimace, and their mouths were forced open with a metal ring wrapped in leather. Their chins were slick with their own spit, which dribbled out from their open mouths to form puddles on the floor below. The noise of the wind changed, and Davai realized with horror that it was never the wind at all, but instead the moans of these poor souls muffled through iron masks.

"What in God's name is this?" snapped Davai, his stomach twisting in disgust and fear.

"Oh, the daughter of a knight, a squire, one of the Old Duke's bastards, perhaps two but I can't recall, a merchant's heiress, some or other maiden..." Karim said offhandedly. He saw the expression on Davai's face and rolled his eyes. "Calm yourself, Lord Davai, I assure you that not one of these miscreants came to this keep willingly, and none even approach your station."

"A knight's daughter is still a noble, and a squire is not far off," Davai said through gritted teeth.

Karim shook his head. "You misunderstand, it is not your status as a lord I refer to now, but your role as an emissary. The harshest sanctions of Mughal law are reserved for those who harm the messenger or the diplomat; cities have been razed for less."

Davai settled down, but not by much. His gaze was fixed on the men, and though their backs were turned to him, it seemed as if they were removing metal plates from the rear of the hound-bound captives. "What is the purpose of this?" he asked, not even looking at Karim, all pretense of protocol and politesse forgotten.

"It is as I said, Lord Davai: the purpose is discipline. Each prisoner you see is being punished for crimes against the Great Empire, or are receiving punishment on behalf of another who has committed such crimes." Karim stroked his chin. "This particular selection is weighted heavily towards the latter. Perhaps their house tried to oppose the Great Empire, or their company swindled its merchants, or their uncle swore oaths unwisely. In the Near East they would have to be slain quickly and mercifully as a message to all others, and in the Far East their family would be murdered one generation above and one generation below to uphold respect for written law, but in this Western land a display of awe and submission is enough. Your people believe in the forgiveness of Christ, and in a similar manner your trespasses against the Great Empire may be forgiven as long as you are willing to roll over and show your belly.

Karim laughed to himself. "Not that these ones can roll over; they are restrained in a manner most strict, their arms and legs folded over and bound in silk bandages, resting on their knees and elbows, held quite still by the cast iron shell around them. They are let out to exercise often enough to stop cankers and bedsores—though they seem little more fond of their exercise than they do of their rest—and they otherwise remain bound and ready to serve. Right now they are about to be... well, 'fed' doesn't do it justice, truly. I implore you to watch."

Davai watched silently as the eight men parted their gowns. They wore nothing underneath and their rampant cocks jutted forth for all to see. Their cocks were not long, perhaps even Davai had a longer member than the shorter among the group, but they were imposingly thick, with plum-sized heads peeking out from their foreskins. All eight men knelt before their captives, and the captives moaned—even though they could not see them, they could surely smell the weapons raised an inch from their mouths.

As one the Mughal men thrust their dicks between their victims' ring-gagged lips, silencing their moans. The men pushed forward inch by inch with no mercy or regard for the prisoners' suffering until each one was hilted inside, balls flush against chins, noses pressed into pubic hair. The only audible noises were muffled retching and a clinking rattle—Davai deduced from the twitching of the closest prisoner that this noise was one of them struggling madly against their bonds to no avail.

The men held themselves in place for a time, and without realizing it Davai had held his breath in a mixture of sympathy and anticipation. He took a deep, dizzy breath once he realized he was holding it, and it was several moments later that all the Mughal men pulled out, resting the tips of their cocks on the edges of their prisoners' ring gags. All of the victims gasped for breath but one retched with startling loudness and spewed a mouthful of clear bile over the tip of their rapist's cock. A cheer went up across the Mughals for this, the perpetrator raising his hands in triumph as the two men nearest to him slapped his back in congratulation.

"To be truthful, the reason I say that 'fed' does not do this task justice," said Karim, devilishly, "is that our hounds tend to lose more food than they swallow."

Before Davai could say a word the men fell upon the hounds and fucked their throats, battering their tonsils with hard, sharp thrusts, leaning over their backs to grope and finger their now-exposed backsides. The prisoners were not silent about their treatment. Some sobbed, some whimpered, one seemed to scream with rage at their predicament, but they all made the *gyack-gyack-gyack* sound of a goose swallowing a too-large piece of bread. The puddles of slop beneath their chins were quickly turning to pools, and the stink of sweat and musk cut through the incense and heady wine that hung about the room.

Davai did not realise that his fists were clenched, though he would not have cared even if he had known. "This is senseless."

"No!" Karim raised his voice, and it broke through the haze of anger and revulsion that clouded Davai's mind sufficiently to make him look his way. "The third hound from the right is a knight's daughter whose father conspired to warn a foreign prince that his alliance of convenience with the Great Empire was no longer convenient, out of degenerate loyalties and a warped sense of honour. We gave the knight a choice, and he was free to walk down the senseless path—to be put to the sword along with his liege, his company, and his entire family to purge any others who might harbour such treasonous intentions. He instead chose the sensible path, and gave up his only daughter to suffer for his sins.

Karim speared a piece of brandy-soaked pear with a tiny silver fork, ate it in two bites, and continued. "Tonight, when she is allowed out of her prison to stretch her limbs and feast on water and stale bread, she will write her father a letter, as she does every week. The letter will tell of her misery, the terror of being enclosed in a space tighter than any casket, the aches that wrack her limbs, the stench of the soldiers who use her as a pleasure toy, the burning, splitting pain in her throat from having it cruelly ravaged every day and every night, the vile taste of her lovers' creamy seed, her longing to see her family and father once more, and her despair at the fate that has befallen her.

"A messenger takes each letter written in her own hand and stained with her own tears, carries it to her father, and reads every word aloud in a private audience to ensure the father knows the consequences that his crimes have wrought. He is the only one who knows of his daughter's fate—all others believe her dead in a tragic accident. We hold the father to a higher standard of loyalty now, and should he fail to meet it the private audience of each reading would become a public audience, and all who know him would see the extent to which he has become dishonoured.

"Two people suffer for a crime that could warrant the sacking of a town and the murder of hundreds," Karim sniffed. "I see nothing senseless in this at all."

Davai looked upon the depraved scene as he considered his host's words. The man using the knight's daughter had pulled out of her mouth and was stroking her cheek with a knuckle, whispering to her in a foreign language. If it was not clear from the way her face scrunched and shuddered, the damp spots soaking through her blindfold made it obvious that she was sobbing hysterically. Her rapist gave her cheek a gentle slap, and then he looked down, pursed his lips, and hocked a thick wad of spit onto the tip of his cock. He slipped his dick between her lips and spread the load all over her mouth, giving her a taste of his saliva before pushing back into her throat.

"...Is this to remain her fate until she expires?" he asked softly.

"Bismillah, no!" Karim seemed scandalized. "This is not a death sentence, it is a period of training. First, she must be broken, like any beast of burden. Once not even the dullest ember of resistance burns within her, she can be taught—both how to serve men, and how to service them. After she has been taught she will go through proving, and once she proves herself, she will become a full serving girl. We will then offer to sell her back to her father, although such relatives are often reticent to take back our poor graduates and reveal the truth of their fates, and if she is not bought, she will be put to work."

"I see." Davai's fingers played along his stockings, but he barely felt them, or anything in fact. His whole body felt as if it was filled with air. "And how, ah, how long is the period of breaking?"

Karim shrugged. "That one has been pledging her undying servitude and begging to be allowed to learn the ways of a harem girl for a month and a half, now. It is a good start, but I should imagine she shall need another month or so of seasoning before she's truly ready."

A serving girl approached Karim and knelt down beside him. Davai recognised her as the girl by the bookshelves who had taken the scroll of offering from him earlier. "Master, I have finished examining the offer of tribute from the Houses of the Amber Plains."

"Very good, Farah. Is it as expected?"

"Roughly so, Master. There are some small differences between the text in Latin and the text in Mongolian, but they seem to be difficulties in translation of little consequence. Would you like me to give you the translation, Master?"

"That would be delightful, thank you."

In the back of his mind, Davai knew that the conversation taking place between his host and his pet scrivener was of vital importance, that it was in fact the very crux of the task he had traveled here to complete, but he could tear neither his eyes nor his ears from the commotion on the dais. All sixteen creatures upon it had reached a fever pitch—mad, unthinking thrusting from the men and panicked wailing from the hounds below them. The men began to climax.

The man using the knight's daughter finished first, bellowing triumphantly as he blew his load deep in her mouth, hunching over her and pulling her head into his crotch until he was finished. With a muffled retch, a thick trail of sperm burst out from between her lips and his cock to run down her chin. He pulled out and for a moment she seemed unable to breathe before she gave a great shuddering cough and two lines of semen spewed out of her nostrils, streaked red from where his rough thrusts had ruptured something within her nose, as more seed burbled out from her mouth.

The next man along finished immediately after, pulling out of his hound's mouth. With one hand he stroked his cock and with the other he caught the splash of spit and bile that spewed from between his victim's lips and rubbed it in their face. As soon as he moved his hand away the first rope of cum hit the hound's forehead, dripping down in a straight line over his blindfold, down his nose, lips and chin and in his mouth. Nearly a dozen more spurts of seed flew forth, plastering the trapped squire's face in thin, slimy sperm, coating his cheeks and concealing his almost-imperceptible shadow of stubble—he had clearly been shaved today—with much landing directly in his mouth.

When the second man finished the remaining six Mughals climaxed more or less at the same time, splitting Davai's attention between them. He saw a couple of the hounds receive a mask of seed in the same manner as the squire, another forced to drink down their gift from a cock buried in their throat, one Mughal let his cum ooze directly onto his hound's tongue before clamping a hand over their mouth to force them to swallow. With horror he watched how one victim—the one who had struggled terribly within her bonds to no avail when the rape began—had her mouth stuffed with a rag before the man pressed the tip of his cock to her hook-stretched nostrils and spewed his seed directly into her nose. The man used his finger to push his molasses-thick semen back up into her nostrils as it threatened to run down her upper lip, forcing her to inhale and presumably swallow it lest she suffocate.

He heard a soft wailing, not muffled or wet enough to have come from one of the hounds, and he turned to see Justyna the woman-gift in her bonds, craning her neck to look at the perverse scene on the dais, tears streaming down her face as she saw her inevitable and fast-approaching fate. A cold weight settled in his stomach. He had delivered her to this, after all, and if there was truly a God who could survey a world with such horrors in it, he was not sure he would ever find forgiveness for such a callous act.

A cough from beside him brought Davai out of his trance-like observation. "Lord Davai," said Karim, "my scribe and I have perused the formal offer of tithe from the Houses of the Amber Plains, and as a representative of the Great Empire I find it appropriate and respectable."

Davai blinked. "Yes," he said, and swallowed. His palms were slick with sweat that did not wick away or dry no matter how much he fussed them along his stockings. "I see, yes. That is good. Thank you, Sir Karim, it is most appreciated."

"Appreciated, pah, it is a good and profitable deal for the Great Empire and an honourable one for the Houses of the Amber Plains. Such a thing is a cause for celebration!” Karim nodded, smiling broadly. “Ihsan, darling, fetch another jug of wine would you?"

Part 5 here: https://writefinch.tumblr.com/post/649559112232894464/the-princes-offering-pt5-noncon-bondage

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sabraeal · 5 years

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Get Up Eight, Chapter 4

River of Silk | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Obiyuki Week, Day 1 Envy | Kindness

The sun hangs low in the morning sky, but still Hodogaya-juku is choked with travelers, each of them waiting for the soldiers to check their travel permits. Obi leans, squinting into the glare, but all he gets out of it is the bridge’s rail digging hard into his hip. He’d seen a print of this place once, a ukiyo-e done by one of the masters, but somehow it had failed to captured this, the endless non-movement of waiting as the day’s heat builds at his back.

There’s no soba shop either. At least not one open this early in the morning. Which means there’s no pretty serving girls either, no fans fluttering alluringly in the air as they call out to men passing by.

Okyakusama, come inside. They are not yujo, so there would be no promises to follow, but their demure gazes are meant to be as exciting as a taste of skin. You’ve never tasted such pleasures as we have for you.

A laugh huffs out of him. Not likely, in a place like this. The soba might be filling, might scratch hunger’s itch on a long day, but even with hardly more than a few mon in his pocket, Obi’s had better. And with ojou-san’s ryo...

Well, the best was yet to come. Last night had taught him that well enough. All he needs to do it let himself enjoy it.

Easier said than done, when all that’s behind his eyes is that pale expanse of skin, a round bead of water making it’s agonizing journey over it’s curves--

You look very much like a samurai in those clothes...

His lips thin. He’s not being paid to have such thoughts, and all they’ve done so far is make him all-too aware of her body next to him, to the exact temperature of the air between them.

He doesn’t see so much as feel ojou-san squirm at his side. With each shuffling step they take toward the checkpoint, she curls even more tightly into herself, as if by making herself a snail, she might somehow be overlooked by the shogun’s men.

She is not alone. There is tension in every traveler these days, the world more uncertain than it’s ever been. From here he cannot see the mon on the soldier’s haori, but this is not Kyoto, not a hotbed of conflicting loyalties free to run rampant outside of the shogun’s indifferent gaze. No, this is well within Edo’s shadow, and if the men did not wear the triple hollyhock --

Well, things would be a lot worse than he remembered.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, a slender hand rises, fidgeting with the edge of her covering. He can’t cage his sigh this time.

“You’re only drawing attention to it, ojou-san,” he tells her, careful to keep his gaze ahead, to keep himself from chasing that glimpse of crimson he knows lies underneath.

Her hand snaps back down, as if he’d slapped it. Ojou-san is so careful to keep her gaze lowered, to keep her posture suitably deferential, but he can see the displeased bow of her mouth. A good scolding is building behind those thinned lips.

He shouldn’t find that so enticing, but well, here he is.

“What is our plan?” she asks instead, voice soft yet steely. He likes that about her; ojou-san may seem quiet, may play a little mouse, but beneath that mask is a vixen. Her scarf may cover her markings, but she is a kitsune through and through, meant to enthrall wayward ronin to her side.

“Plan?” Maybe he should offer to count her tails.

He bites back a smile. That would be a quick way to feel the kiss of her palm.

“What are we going to tell the dōshin?” Her gaze lifts, soft and bright as jade, and his heart gives a traitorous pound. There’s no need for this; rare does not mean special, not for the likes of him

“The dōshin?” His laugh is far too raw; she flinches, sending that soft green scuttling away. “We’ll be lucky if we see one outside of a tea house. No samurai worth his sword would be seen on gate duty.”

With a stubborn jut of her chin, she insists, “You have something to tell them, don’t you? That we are -- are siblings--”

His brows lift, giving an exaggerated sweep between them. “Siblings?”

“Cousins,” she corrects, firm. “Or maybe -- husband and wife?”

He blinks, only a blank buzzing between his ears as he watches the blush blossom on her cheeks, as the palest pink tints the tantalizing skin at her throat.

“Wife?” he laughs. Oh, ojou-san had been sheltered indeed if she could not see how a single glance would give the lie to that. She wore cotton the finest money could buy, and he --

Well, okusama had told him he might as well be naked for the amount of thread between him and the elements. No man -- not even the chonin -- would believe that they came as a pair.

“Why do I need a plan, ojou-san?” He shrugged a shoulder, the lapel of his kimono rubbing over the knobby spur of it. “The truth is fine enough.”

Teeth as pale as pearl sink into those lips, not just thoughtful but -- worried. Ha, he had known there was something strange about this cousin story.

“Y-yes,” she agrees, stuttering over the lie. It’s easy to see, now that he knows where to look. “That should be -- be fine.”

Traveling is easier outside of the post stations.

The cobbles are not quite as worn, of course, and some of the stones have ceded back to the earth through the long years, but the crowd is thinner the longer they walk. It’s not to last, Obi knows, not with Tosuka-juku only a few ri away, but it’s nice to stretch his legs, to let ojou-san fall away from him as he falls into his natural stride.

Despite the tight press of the long grass and the pale trunks that spear up from the earth along the road, salt hangs heavy on the air. It’s a reminder, a warning: just because it cannot be seen, the ocean is never far away. They may have left the houses that squatted shoulder-to-shoulder behind them, trading the sight for lush paddies thick with early harvest, but civilization lurked around every corner, only steps away.

Unfortunate for a girl who meant to outrun it.

Obi turns, hooking his hands around his hips, and watches ojou-san crest the last rise. She doesn’t look like she could outpace a tortoise at this point, red-faced and trundling along behind him. It’s not yet midday, the heat nowhere near its worst, but ojou-san is breathless, that fine kimono keeping her at little more than a hurried mince.

She should look ridiculous -- and maybe once, hours ago, she did. Any other rich girl would have already folded by now, would have told him to run back to Hodogaya and hire a kago for the next leg of the journey, but --

But ojou-san just keeps walking. That man, Kino, thought he knew her, but the delicate lily he had painted so passionately with his words not hours ago has yet to bloom -- or perhaps, yet to wilt. Ojou-san is small and pale, but she is not dainty, not frail.

Her head is bowed as she marches forward, only watching that she puts one foot in front of the other. It’s just his arms, outstretched to catch her shoulders, that keeps her from tromping into him wholesale. “Easy there, ojou-san.”

Her head jolts up on her neck, like a deer catching a scent upwind. She blinks, those jade eyes so wide and full he thinks he might fall into them if he looked long enough.

“Why have you stopped?” Her breath pants from her chest no matter how she tries to catch it, how she tries to still it. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, ojou-san,” he assures her, giving her his widest, most charming smile. Her mouth immediately bends at the sight, a frown marring her pretty face.

Huh. That’s not how women usually react. He must be losing his touch.

Obi shrugs instead, dropping his hands from her shoulders. “Just thought we might rest up here.”

He nods to where the brush thins, a copse of elms bowing enticingly through the long grass. Water burbles excitedly on the air, and though it’s no flowering paradise, it comes close enough for a girl raised in a city. Almost as good as okusama’s gardens, by his count.

Ojou-san remains skeptical. She takes a long, assessing look, her mouth jutting in a thoughtful pout. Clearly, it does not meet her exacting standards for landscaping. “Do you normally stop here?”

That pulls him up short. He glances down -- she can’t be serious -- but she’s only staring back, steady and fearless, and --

And if it were only him, he’d be walking until well after midday, only stopping to rest his eyes when the sun was at its hottest.

But ojou-san is not him, not road-worn and hard. Determined as she is, she’s used to regular meals, to more than the occasional, thin comforts opportunity provides. She cannot walk from dawn to dusk with no break between, only the long grass at her back when she beds down for the night.

It would be a mistake to tell a woman like ojou-san this.

“When I travel alone, I am not kind to myself.” Even in his hesitation, she has not dropped her gaze, has not wavered. Kino had been right -- she looks delicate, like a painted girl upon a shelf, but he had missed that porcelain is not soft, that it breaks because it will not bend. “But ojou-san reminds me that I must be.”

He truly must be losing his touch; not long ago those words would have made any girl melt, would have made them lead him into the grass themselves to hear his other honeyed words, but ojou-san --

Ojou-san just nods her head and says, “Then we keep walking.”

With a casual grace he had yet to see from her, ojou-san swerves around him, that sack of hers bumping hard against her back with every step.

For a full minute, he can do no more than stare, watching her small back scuttle down the road as if he were a stone in her path, a temporary nuisance, easily forgotten. As if she needed no man to take her to Kyoto; she could get there all by herself by just putting one foot in front of the other.

Women are meant to be carried, the merchant had told him, as if imparting some great kernel of knowledge. It would be a pain if she were to swoon from the exertion.

Obi bites back a laugh. That man hadn’t know her at all.

And neither would he, if he just kept letting her walk away from him.

“Ojou-san!” He hurries after her, sandals slapping the cobbles beneath his feet. The noise only seems to make her shuffle faster, as if she might outrun him with her kimono wrapped as tight as paper on fish at the market.

“Ojou-san!” He slips around her, walking backwards to keep her in his sight. “Really, we should stop to rest.”

“There’s no need to slow down,” she insists. “Not on my account. I can keep going--”

A point she proves rather spectacularly, by tripping right over her own feet.

The movement isn’t even conscious -- one moment she is falling, and the next she is not. It’s not until she looks up at him, eyes and mouth gone wide, that he realizes his hands hold her up, that he is the one who has caught her. A second later and she would have been pressed against his chest, like some distressed maiden in a wood cut.

His fingers clench. Good thing he’s so quick.

“O-obi?”

Ah, that’s right he’s still holding her. Too gentle, he sets her back on her feet, and, with more effort than it should, peels his fingers from the fine weave of her kimono.

“We should rest, ojou-san,” he repeats, and this time her shoulders round in defeat. “Come on. I think there’s a stream just over here.”

She eyes him warily -- no doubt her merchant friend had insinuated all the nefarious things ronin could get up to in the long grass with an unwatchful ojou-san, though perhaps he had skimmed over the parts where those same girls begged them to do it again -- but whatever warnings she’s been given, she swiftly disregards it, coming to limp up beside him.

“Did you hurt yourself, ojou-san?” he asks, arching a brow. She hooks a hand around his elbow.

“N-no.” A lie; she’ll need to get better at telling them, if she expects to make it to Kyoto. “Just...tired.”

“As you say, ojou-san.”

Obi means to annoy her when he gets to his knees, the rich soil at the stream’s bank smudging into his kimono. Every inch of his smile is guileless, carefully crafted to make him seem as innocent and servile as possible as he says, “Oh no, ojou-san, it would be this man’s pleasure to serve you--”

But it is him who ends up perturbed.

“Ojou-san!” It comes out sharper than he means, but honestly, honestly --

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she lies again, her hands catching on his shoulders to balance herself, which she needs, because --

This morning, ojou-san had slunk around the sliding screen, her obi perfectly wrapped and her tabi pristine and white, and he had nearly laughed at the sight of it, at the thought that this rich little girl put on fine clothes and expected to keep them that way. But now--

“You’re bleeding.” Red has soaked through, rubbing onto the thong between her toes, and she hisses as he pulls her sandals off, one by one, the wooden soles clattering on the dirt.

“Only blisters.” This, at least, is the truth, for all the good it does them. His fingers catch at her ankles, dragging the tabi down around her heel, up over the ball of her foot --

“Ah!” she hisses, fingers digging hard into the meat of his shoulder. “I mean -- it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

Guilt pricks at him, a thousand cuts. He had seen the zori, had known the wood soles would drag heavy on her feet, but --

Ah, there is no good way to say, you were supposed to be complaining.

“You should have said something,” he grunts instead, urging her down until she can rest her foot in the stream.

Ojou-san opens her mouth, steeling her breath for a protest, but it leaves her on a sigh the moment her foot hits the cold water. Her head tilts back, eyes shut, and she -- she groans, long and loud, with that same timbre she had in the tea house only days ago, and --

And there’s no need to be thinking about this. Not now, when there’s no drink to blame. He doesn’t need a problem, no matter how easy ojou-san makes herself one.

“You don’t need to worry so much.”

He blinks, fingers caught in her second tabi, right where the ankle meets the heel. “Ojou-san?”

“About me,” she tells him, eyes slitting open just enough for him to catch jade framed by black. “You don’t need to worry so much about me.”

Her toes clench as he pulls off her last tabi, hiss caught tight between her teeth. He looks up at her with a hum, all innocence. “It is what you’re paying me for, ojou-san. Quite well, I might add.”

“You don’t need to slow down for me,” she insists. “I can keep up.”

He sits back on his heels, raising an idle brow. “The man with money sets the pace.”

“I know you must be used to--”

“Oh, ojou-san,” he sighs, smile too sharp. “You don’t know what I’m used to.”

What he’s used to are hard men who have made harder decisions, who need a blade between them and the trouble they’re leaving behind. He’s used to rich ojou-sans and fathers who pay him not to touch, not to even speak, to just escort a box from one house to another. He’s used to a hole in his belly that burns bigger every day, and bleakness at the edge of night, where he wonders whether he’ll live to see the dawn.

And this, this -- the jingle of ryo in his pocket and the promise of more, the full belly and the hand-mended clothes, the strange ojou-san who will walk herself bloody to keep from being a burden, and the soft way she had looked at him not a day before and said Obi-dono --

This is what he doesn’t know. What he isn’t used to.

Her gaze fixes on him, too wide and too green. “Not this,” she ventures, confident.

“No,” he agrees. “Not this.”

She nods, sitting back on her hands, leaving the only thing between them the sound of the stream and her breath in the stillness.

“We should get going as soon as you’re rested,” he says, grimacing as the words come out. They are exactly what they don’t mean, not when ojou-san is so eager to prove her worth. “Not now. But when you’re done.”

“I can be done now.” She lifts her feet from the stream, and oh, how they tell a different story. “If we need to go--”

“No.” He holds out a hand, hovering just over her shoulder. He’s touched her before, but it’s dangerous. Each time it is harder to let go. “We have plenty of time. Take your rest now. We’ll be on our way soon, and we’ll stop again when the sun gets hot.”

“We don’t need to stop for me,” she insists, though she does not lift her legs again. “I can handle a walk.”

“I don’t doubt you could, ojou-san.” Despite himself, his mouth curls. “But this is longer than you have ever journeyed.”

She bridles. “You don’t know that! I spend plenty of hours walking.”

He only just bites back his sigh. “It is nearly five ri from Hodogaya to Fujisawa.”

“Fujisawa?” Her face is paper-pale, gaze fixed to her feet. Even through the water they look red, angry. “You don’t mean to stop at Totsuka-shuku?”

“No.” He crouches down, picking at the grass. “Too crowded.”

“I’m used to it.” Her hand lifts, smoothing the edge of her scarf. “It’s easier to disappear in a crowd.”

Where is she? that foreigner had yelled. Is the whore inside?

“True,” he allows. “But it is too close to Yokohama. Easy to run into people you know.”

She looks at him. “Is that a problem you have?”

He looks back. “Do you?”

Her gaze skitters away, back to where her feet soak in the stream. Now would be the perfect time to ask about the foreigner, about this cousin who waits for her Kyoto, about the man he had taken her away from --

But he flops down on the grass instead. Prying question isn’t what she’s paying him for.

Her feet are still red when she pulls them from the stream, but in his inexpert opinion, inspected at a safe distance, they at least look better.

“It could be worse,” ojou-san confirms, setting them down on the hem of her kimono. She’s careful not to let them touch the ground, not to let the open blisters get dirt in them, but – it makes for an awkward pose. She raises one foot, grunting as she fails to set it over her knee, then the other and –

Hells, she’ll be giving him a show at this rate.

“Ojou-san.” He reaches out, shocked to find her ankles so chill against his skin. The stream had looked warm in the sun, but mountain waters make for poor baths. “Let me help you.”

He settles her heels on his knees, letting her toes drip over his thighs, and she just – stares. Not at him, at least, but at her feet.

“Is something--?”

“No!” Her cheeks flush, two large splotches, like she’s been slapped on both sides. “I mean, thank you.”

There’s no reason for his chest to squeeze so tight, and he shrugs to loosen it. “It’s what you’re paying me for.”

She doesn’t answer that, just considers him carefully before bending over, small fingers rubbing over the raw places between her toes and under them. It’s ridiculous to watch; ojou-san is no geisha, elegant and flexible. Her knees spill out as she reaches across them, and there’s so much pale leg to see at once it would be overwhelming, if any of this was in the least bit enticing.

He half expects it would be from the way his heart pounds over the most innocent things, but instead he has to bite his lip to keep back laughter. It had been a wonder to him that a girl such as ojou-san hadn’t been snapped up by a nice boy with a good family, but –

This answers that. It’s been a minute at least, and she still hasn’t noticed.

“Huh,” she hums, sitting back. The only modesty she performs is to absently flip her kimono back over her legs, and even that seem rote, a force of habit rather than any actual shamefulness. “Something will have to be done.”

He does not say, clearly, though it sits at the edge of his tongue. There’s no point in rubbing salt in the wound now. She’ll have time enough to regret as they limp to Totsuka-shuku.

“Ah! My bag.” She holds out a hand. “Could you give it to me?”

She already has one, sitting right next to her in a shapeless lump, but her eyes are fixed to the one by his hip, not just a tied up cloth but a satchel.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, squirreling it from his outstretched hand, clever little fingers already working the clasp. “Ah, yes, this will help.”

A small pot sits in her hand, squat and ugly, and when she removes the cover, it smells – medicinal. His nose wrinkles, even where he sits. “What is that?”

It’s a stupid question when it stings his eyes like this, and he’s glad that instead of answering, she bends forward, trying to reach her feet again –

“Ojou-san,” he drawls, plucking the pot from her palm. “What have I said? It is this man’s pleasure to serve you.”

Her mouth hangs open, watching as he sets the cap aside, and for a long moment, he thinks she might protest, might insist on doing it herself. Instead, her jaw snaps shut, mouth rucking up in a moue of belligerence, and she says, “You’ll need to spread it on thick, but make sure the blister is still covering the skin when you do.”

The unguent is pungent this close; it’s an effort not to make a face as he works, inspecting her clammy toes for raw places. They wiggle as he threads fingers through them, smoothing the cream against her skin, and he grits down on the temptation to test her, to run one long finger down the sole of her foot and watch her squeal –

“There,” he says instead. “Done?”

She nods. “Well done, Obi-s—“ She bites down on her lip. “Obi. Now all we need to do is wrap them.”

That seems simple, at least, right up until he picks up one of the tabi lying limp on the bank, and – “Haah, ojou-san,” he says, biting down on a grin. “I think we’ve overlooked something.”

Her gaze curves up to his, eyes wide. “Oh? Oh.” She rubs a finger over the damp toes, and it comes away red. “Those are ruined.”

“To put it lightly,” he agrees, dropping them back to the bank. “Though I suppose we could wash most of it out, if you don’t mind waiting for it to--”

“No need.” She’s already rummaging through that bag of hers, and with a bright smile, she thrusts out a handful of cloth strips, so clean he can still smell the soap. “I have these!”

Ojou-san is a far more patient teacher than he deserves.

“That’s fine,” she tells him, her fingers brushing the long bones of his hand as he tucks the end of the bandage behind her heel. It trembles beneath her touch, and he makes a fist to stop it.

“Not too tight?” he asks. “Or too loose?”

Both had been a problem, while she’d been guiding him. “No,” she assures him, “it’s just right. You have very deft hands, Obi!”

How is he supposed to resist such temptation, when she makes it so easy?

“Here.” Her zori are already in her hands, the thongs staining her fingertips, but he takes the pair of sandals at his hip, straw and humble, and holds them out. “They’ll be too big, but it’ll be better than those.”

She blinks, sandals flopping over her fist. “Waraji?”

“Wood is good for the city, when you don’t mean to walk far,” he tells her. “But not all the way to Kyoto.”

“Oh.” She stares down at them, wide-eyed. “That makes sense. When I’ve walked before, it was barefoot.” At his look, she adds, “When I pick herbs. Like for the salve.”

He has never in his life seen a rich girl barefoot, and certainly not picking herbs, but –

“We should get going, before the sun gets too high,” he says instead. She’s busy tying his sandals, trying to make them fit a foot probably half its size. Ojou-san should have bought a smaller ronin.

Obi gets to his feet, slinging his pack over his shoulder. With only a moment of hesitation, he picks up her satchel too, and then the bag right at her hip—

“No!”

Ojou-san lunges, feet tripping up in the waraji’s ties, but it’s already far, far too late. He practically drops the thing in surprise, feeling how heavy it is. As it is, it just hangs in his hand like dead weight.

She’s been carrying this the whole time. Since before they even left Yokohama. No wonder her feet are worn raw. “What do you have in here, ojou-san? Bricks?”

“No, it’s not--” Her eyes are so wide, so fearful. “Books! It’s all books. For my studies. Please,” she’s never sounded so close to begging before, not even in that tea house, “let me carry it. It’s my burden.”

He holds her gaze for a long moment, then lets it drop between them. The metallic clink is unmistakable. “As you wish, ojou-san.”

It’s not worth fighting over, that’s what he tells himself. After all, he wouldn’t trust him with his money either.

#obiyukiweek19 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #day 1 #my fic #samurai au #Get Up Eight #ans #lemme tell you this whole thing took forever #and was SUPPOSED to be envy #but oh boy did it get cut LONG before that scene showed up #good job me #those scenes will be better in Shirayuki POV anyway #BUT IT TOOK ME A GOOD LONG TIME TO ACCEPT IT

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