The Desert Prince 4
Aug. 14th, 2003 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lobelia321Title: The Desert Prince: A Fable
Part: 4 (Back to Part 3.)
Author: Lobelia; lobelia321@yahoo.com
Other info: See Prologue.
~~~~~
Fascicle the Fourth
After the meal, I wandered alone about the castle, while my beloved friend talked and bargained with the men, and night kissed the shadows of the moon.
I did not venture beyond the guarded gates but I walked freely within the compound in which we were housed, and none came by to stop me. The courtyards were white in the still moonlight, their tiles gleamed and felt cool to the touch, and the quiet was broken only by the song of the fountains and the nightingales.
Inside the houses, petroleum lamps had been lit, and the burnt smell of wood stoves wafted through the air. I had never smelled such fragrant air, not in the desert, not even in the largest oases we had visited, and I followed my footsteps as if in a dream.
Having wandered I know not where and how long, I came upon a small wooden door, set in a high stone wall at the end of a narrow passage. The door was locked. I thought I heard voices from within and, overcome by sudden curiosity, pressed my eye to the keyhole.
Through the hole, I spied the most gorgeous garden I had ever beheld. There were flowers and vines of every colour and aroma, there were fountains, there were paper lanterns hanging from branches, and there was a boy there. A young boy, even younger than I was.
The boy reclined on a low divan, loosely cradling a hookah in one hand and idly fishing grapes from a bowl with the other. He was wearing soft, wide trousers of a white gauze-like material -- organdie, possibly, or mull, it was hard to tell from this far away --, a waistcoat, embroidered with tiny mirrors and open at the front, and intricately worked leather slippers with upturned toes. His dark hair, uncovered and held together only by a narrow band of beads, fell over his forehead and cascaded down his nape.
When the boy looked up, I nearly cried out aloud in surprise at his eyes. They were as ice-blue as the noon-day sea. They were large and lazy like those of a dromedary in heat.
"Elijah!" someone called out, and the blue-eyed boy turned his head.
Another boy came into view, his chest naked, slick with oil and gleaming in the lantern light, his hair short except for one thin braid trailing down between his shoulder blades. He, too, was wearing wide trousers of the same soft, clinging stuff as the other's. Bracelets jingled on the braided boy's wrists and bells tinkled on his bare ankles. A snake-headed metal band was clasped around his upper arm. His neck was adorned with a silver chain, his ears with pearl pendants. He leaned down easily over the blue-eyed boy and, to my astonishment, planted a long and languorous kiss on the other's mouth.
"What is it, Dominic?" the blue-eyed boy asked.
"The Prince calls for you," replied the braided boy.
I thought I saw the blue-eyed one flinch. He dropped his hookah and his head.
"You must go to him. Now," said the other one and pulled the blue-eyed boy gently by the hand. "Come on, I will help you up."
The blue-eyed one stood up. I may have imagined it but he looked as if he were about to stumble and faint.
"Have you smoked enough, my friend?" asked the braided one softly. "And have you eaten those leaves I gave you earlier? They will help you. You won't notice much. And when you return, I promise you, I will make you feel better."
"Yes," the blue-eyed boy drawled, and it now occurred to me that his glazed gaze and uncertain foothold came from the effects of some drug he had imbibed.
The braided one put his arm around the drugged boy's waist and led him away.
I was left standing in that lone alley, shivering in the cold night air of the desert, above me the cruel glittering stars that care not about the lives and loves of those who crawl upon this earth.
That night, those two boys haunted my dreams. I saw them naked, cowering against a wall, clothed only in their jewels. Their arms were bound with ropes, and towering above them stood the Desert Prince, a shadowy shape outlined in tongues of flame.
I awoke in the dark, gasping for air. There was sweat on my chest but ice in my heart. Next to me, I heard the soothing sound of my beloved's breath in slumber. I touched my cheek to his, and he stirred briefly without waking.
I could not sleep again for a long time.
The dream had not shown me the Desert Prince's face. I would have to wait until the morrow for that and to discover the secret of his terrible might.
~~~~~
TBC
Part: 4 (Back to Part 3.)
Author: Lobelia; lobelia321@yahoo.com
Other info: See Prologue.
~~~~~
Fascicle the Fourth
After the meal, I wandered alone about the castle, while my beloved friend talked and bargained with the men, and night kissed the shadows of the moon.
I did not venture beyond the guarded gates but I walked freely within the compound in which we were housed, and none came by to stop me. The courtyards were white in the still moonlight, their tiles gleamed and felt cool to the touch, and the quiet was broken only by the song of the fountains and the nightingales.
Inside the houses, petroleum lamps had been lit, and the burnt smell of wood stoves wafted through the air. I had never smelled such fragrant air, not in the desert, not even in the largest oases we had visited, and I followed my footsteps as if in a dream.
Having wandered I know not where and how long, I came upon a small wooden door, set in a high stone wall at the end of a narrow passage. The door was locked. I thought I heard voices from within and, overcome by sudden curiosity, pressed my eye to the keyhole.
Through the hole, I spied the most gorgeous garden I had ever beheld. There were flowers and vines of every colour and aroma, there were fountains, there were paper lanterns hanging from branches, and there was a boy there. A young boy, even younger than I was.
The boy reclined on a low divan, loosely cradling a hookah in one hand and idly fishing grapes from a bowl with the other. He was wearing soft, wide trousers of a white gauze-like material -- organdie, possibly, or mull, it was hard to tell from this far away --, a waistcoat, embroidered with tiny mirrors and open at the front, and intricately worked leather slippers with upturned toes. His dark hair, uncovered and held together only by a narrow band of beads, fell over his forehead and cascaded down his nape.
When the boy looked up, I nearly cried out aloud in surprise at his eyes. They were as ice-blue as the noon-day sea. They were large and lazy like those of a dromedary in heat.
"Elijah!" someone called out, and the blue-eyed boy turned his head.
Another boy came into view, his chest naked, slick with oil and gleaming in the lantern light, his hair short except for one thin braid trailing down between his shoulder blades. He, too, was wearing wide trousers of the same soft, clinging stuff as the other's. Bracelets jingled on the braided boy's wrists and bells tinkled on his bare ankles. A snake-headed metal band was clasped around his upper arm. His neck was adorned with a silver chain, his ears with pearl pendants. He leaned down easily over the blue-eyed boy and, to my astonishment, planted a long and languorous kiss on the other's mouth.
"What is it, Dominic?" the blue-eyed boy asked.
"The Prince calls for you," replied the braided boy.
I thought I saw the blue-eyed one flinch. He dropped his hookah and his head.
"You must go to him. Now," said the other one and pulled the blue-eyed boy gently by the hand. "Come on, I will help you up."
The blue-eyed one stood up. I may have imagined it but he looked as if he were about to stumble and faint.
"Have you smoked enough, my friend?" asked the braided one softly. "And have you eaten those leaves I gave you earlier? They will help you. You won't notice much. And when you return, I promise you, I will make you feel better."
"Yes," the blue-eyed boy drawled, and it now occurred to me that his glazed gaze and uncertain foothold came from the effects of some drug he had imbibed.
The braided one put his arm around the drugged boy's waist and led him away.
I was left standing in that lone alley, shivering in the cold night air of the desert, above me the cruel glittering stars that care not about the lives and loves of those who crawl upon this earth.
That night, those two boys haunted my dreams. I saw them naked, cowering against a wall, clothed only in their jewels. Their arms were bound with ropes, and towering above them stood the Desert Prince, a shadowy shape outlined in tongues of flame.
I awoke in the dark, gasping for air. There was sweat on my chest but ice in my heart. Next to me, I heard the soothing sound of my beloved's breath in slumber. I touched my cheek to his, and he stirred briefly without waking.
I could not sleep again for a long time.
The dream had not shown me the Desert Prince's face. I would have to wait until the morrow for that and to discover the secret of his terrible might.
~~~~~
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-14 04:24 pm (UTC)I love how you're building the suspense here.
I can't wait to see the next part.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 05:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-14 06:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 05:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-14 06:06 pm (UTC)Next to me, I heard the soothing sound of my beloved's breath in slumber. I touched my cheek to his, and he stirred briefly without waking.
sean ben bean! *sobs* <3
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 05:53 am (UTC)I've written Bean once before, and that's it, so it's a bit of a revelation to me, writing Bean here. It's nice.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-14 07:16 pm (UTC)I should have commented on the last two parts, but I ama lazy arse, and deserve to be flogged!
This is so beautiful and rich, darling dear. The thing that gets me with each part, that gets better with each part, are the textures. You're language is beautifully convoluted, but not indistinct, and I can see these things, and feel them under my hands and in my mind, and there is nothing I like more than a story that can do that to me!
I want to feel the texture of the pants Elijah is wearing, and run Dominic's braid through my fist.
Bravo, my fuckable one!!!
*adores you*
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 02:59 am (UTC)Am loving this though, I like the lazy middle eastern biblical imagery.
Comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 05:58 am (UTC)Thank you for reading and commenting!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 05:56 am (UTC)Eep! Perhaps I should call you Ms Pinky, eh...?
Thank you so much about your comment about the textures and the language. I keep worrying that I'm not being consistent, that there are lapses, that the language is going downhill -- especially as there are some parts that I am writing from scratch and others that I am more or less typing up from my notebook. So I am relieved that (so far at least, and for you at least) it appears to be working.
It's the language that keeps me anchored in this fic. It erects a scaffolding of dos and don'ts, and it prevents me from hurrying ahead to future events. It keeps me in the here and now. And I do love, *love*, this kind of aesthetic -- what would it be called? Arab? Oriental? Islamic? At any rate, I thrill to it, so I like dwelling in that place.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-14 09:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 05:59 am (UTC)I spent some time last night googling Memphis Belle in an attempt to get *pics* - do you know I had no idea that Astin was in it? Not to mention Eric Stoltz! But I found no pics. Will now resign myself to reading this as origfic.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 03:56 pm (UTC)I know- there's a woeful shortage of Memphis Belle pics on the net. Hee. You didn't know it was Astin? And I'd been throwing my icon at you from time to time. *g* Oh dear. Now you'll never watch it. But Eric Stoltz! And Matthew Modine! And Harry Connick Jr! And HCJ sings! And vintage airplanes! So many reasons. I suppose it's not too difficult to read as origfic, and it's not like there was so much plot in the movie that you'll be completely lost without seeing it. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-16 01:55 pm (UTC)Ack. Icon recognition failure.
Well,
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-16 03:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-15 02:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-21 03:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-18 03:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-20 05:31 am (UTC)