Post by devilinthedetails on Aug 15, 2022 3:21:55 GMT 10
Series: Winter Tales
Title: Youthful Wickedness
Rating: PG-13 for sexuality
Event: Up to No Good
Words: 1428
Summary: Shinko, Roald, and the youthful wickedness confessed in a Persopolis garden.
Youthful Wickedness
“Tell me,” Shinko said to Roald as they strolled through one of the eleven enclosed gardens surrounding the Persopolis castle. Eleven gardens symbolic of the eleven wells and springs that provided water for the people and plants of Persopolis. Including the plants of the castle gardens that were sustained by the water ferried from the wells and springs into this verdant, emerald oasis by tunnels the Bazhir called qanat.
Tunnels that channeled into the long pool that she and Roald walked beside. Admiring its cerulean surface smooth as glass. Its unfrozen surface. It might have been late winter in Persopolis, but still the sun beat down golden and orange with no hint of chill in the air except at night. Desert nights were always cold. That had been one of the first harsh truths of the desert Shinko had learned during the Royal Progress’s sojourn to the Great Southern Desert. To the land of the Bazhir who called her future father-in-law their Voice. She went on,“What was the worst thing you ever did as a child?”
She and Roald were still at that stage in their relationship where they were peeling back one another’s layers. Discovering what lay hidden beneath the polite skin each showed the world. Delicately probing what was within.
“The worst thing I ever did as a child,” Roald repeated. Stroking his chin as he considered the question.
They had moved beyond the pool now to a portion of the garden path shrouded by palm trees imported at what Shinko was certain must have been substantial cost from Carthak. The trees, Shinko saw, were cleverly planted into a ditch. A ditch that was no doubt designed to minimize evaporation and grant water quick, easy access to the tree roots. Water was a precious resource in the desert. The Bazhir would be shrewd in its use. Maximizing its effectiveness when they created beautiful gardens amidst the sand.
“Well, most of the mischief I got into as a small boy involved Kally.” Roald grinned. Almost ruefully. “She was my gleeful partner in crime. I remember we would escape our nursemaids and tutors to run through the royal portrait gallery. We would jump off the benches too. That was quite wicked of us. I’m sure the kings and queens of the past looked down on our antics with disapproval.”
“That’s high-spirited play.” Shinko smiled slightly. Imagining her betrothed and his favorite, closest sister dashing through the royal portrait gallery. Footsteps echoing off its marble floors. Leaping off the benches. Laughter fountaining from their lips and shining from their eyes. “Not wickedness. That can’t be the worst thing you ever did as a child.”
“Kally and I did like to sneak down to the crypts even though our parents forbade it. It was scary down there, but we took a perverse pleasure in horrifying ourselves when we were young. In a strange way, we delighted in being terrified and in knowing we were defying our parents’ orders. ” Roald sounded both amused and ashamed of his past self as Shinko recalled the deep, dark cold of the Conte crypts as she visited the catacombs where her future husband’s ancestors were buried beneath stone effigies.
The deep, dark cold that settled into her bones. So different from the sunlight that warmed her skin through her silk kimono as she walked through this Persopolis garden with her intended on a winter’s afternoon that did not feel at all like winter. The desert was radiant with light from the sun. Harnessing the effect of that light through carefully chosen trees, statues, and trellises would be an important task of the garden’s architects and gardeners, Shinko knew.
“That was only exploring.” Shinko flicked her fan in dismissal of this account of youthly transgression. “Chilish curiosity. There is nothing evil in that.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.” Roald recited the cliche common to the Eastern lands that was unknown to the Yamani Islands where cats represented good luck and protection. Not curiosity that could kill. He continued with another story starring him and Kally as miscreants. “When we were little, Kally and I used to resemble each other more than we do now.”
“I could see that.” Shinko could indeed envision it. How alike Roald and Kally would have been before puberty set in. Before Roald’s shoulders broadened. Before Kally’s body developed the curving shape of a woman’s.
“We could pass for twins if she wore a shirt and breeches.” Roald’s expression was reminiscent. Softened by fond memory. “And tucked her hair under a cap, of course. Our nursemaids and tutors hated that trick. Only our parents could tell us apart when we did that.”
“Of course they could. You have different eyes and noses.” Shinko’s keen gaze had noticed that as it did so many things. Roald’s eyes were shaped like his mother’s; Kally’s like their father’s. Roald’s nose was a strong K’miri one inherited from his mother; Kally’s was hooked as her father’s. A parent, a mother or a father, would be attuned to such differences. Such minor variations in the face. “But that is a matter of dress-up and disguise, not wickedness.”
“You are determined to excuse all my childhood wickedness.” Roald chuckled quietly.
“So–” Shinko flapped her fan, creating a breeze to cool them– “share a youthful wickedness I can’t excuse.”
“Well.” Roald bit his lower lip. Suddenly hesitant. “It doesn’t show me in the best light.”
“That is the point of me ferreting out your worst youthful wickedness.” Shinko was calm. Unruffled as the pool they had passed earlier. “Your youthful wickedness is not supposed to cast you in the best light but in your darkest shadow.”
The play of light and shadow. That was what this walk was all about, Shinko had decided. The aesthetic and purpose of this Persopolis garden.
“There was a time when I was six.” Roald continued to chew on his lip. Nudged into speech by her words. “My curiosity got the better of me. I decided it would be a good idea to creep like a thief into my father’s study and try to break through the shielding wards around the Dominion Jewel so I could touch it for myself even though I was very much forbidden from doing so. I ached to feel it in my hands because I had heard so many tales about it. How powerful it was.”
“That was truly wicked!” Shinko exclaimed. Astonished and appalled that her betrothed could ever have been so defiant. So impulsive and imprudent. So reckless and unfearing of danger. She had never been that uninhibited. Even when small.
“Papa was furious at me.” Roald’s cheeks were burning red embers. “I don’t think I’ve made him that angry since. Not that I ever want to make him that angry again. I have some survival instincts now. No longer being six-years-old.”
“He had a right to his anger under the circumstances.” Shinko tapped her betrothed’s wrist gently with her fan as they approached a pavilion. Carved from limestone and topped with a dome. A pavilion so different from any that would have been found in a Yamani garden though the shade provided from the blazing sun would be more valuable and appreciated in this dry desert heat than in the damp island mists of her homeland.“You cannot blame him for it.”
“He did, and I do not,” Roald agreed. Giving a sober nod before his tone took on a teasing air. “I have one more wickedness I should confess, Shinko. One I very much hope you can forgive me for.”
“Go on,” Shinko prompted when he remained quiet. “A crime unconfessed can never be forgiven.”
“I have an overpowering temptation to kiss you.” Roald leaned toward her. Didn’t kiss her. Just murmured into her ear as if he were confiding a scandalous secret that could destory him if broadly circulated.
“I am your betrothed.” Shinko’s face flamed. Her eyes dropped to the ground. Modesty seemed to demand that she avert her gaze from him in this moment when her heart was suddenly racing in her chest. When her pulse was pounding, and it was hard for her to breathe. To maintain her composure and dignity as a properly reared Yamani woman. Expected to display impeccable etiquette at all times. To never waver in doing so. “I suppose we can forgive you that desire.”
Surely, she thought, it would be more wrong if he didn’t desire her at all. If she wasn’t a temptation to him in this garden that smelled of cypress and pomegranate trees.
Title: Youthful Wickedness
Rating: PG-13 for sexuality
Event: Up to No Good
Words: 1428
Summary: Shinko, Roald, and the youthful wickedness confessed in a Persopolis garden.
Youthful Wickedness
“Tell me,” Shinko said to Roald as they strolled through one of the eleven enclosed gardens surrounding the Persopolis castle. Eleven gardens symbolic of the eleven wells and springs that provided water for the people and plants of Persopolis. Including the plants of the castle gardens that were sustained by the water ferried from the wells and springs into this verdant, emerald oasis by tunnels the Bazhir called qanat.
Tunnels that channeled into the long pool that she and Roald walked beside. Admiring its cerulean surface smooth as glass. Its unfrozen surface. It might have been late winter in Persopolis, but still the sun beat down golden and orange with no hint of chill in the air except at night. Desert nights were always cold. That had been one of the first harsh truths of the desert Shinko had learned during the Royal Progress’s sojourn to the Great Southern Desert. To the land of the Bazhir who called her future father-in-law their Voice. She went on,“What was the worst thing you ever did as a child?”
She and Roald were still at that stage in their relationship where they were peeling back one another’s layers. Discovering what lay hidden beneath the polite skin each showed the world. Delicately probing what was within.
“The worst thing I ever did as a child,” Roald repeated. Stroking his chin as he considered the question.
They had moved beyond the pool now to a portion of the garden path shrouded by palm trees imported at what Shinko was certain must have been substantial cost from Carthak. The trees, Shinko saw, were cleverly planted into a ditch. A ditch that was no doubt designed to minimize evaporation and grant water quick, easy access to the tree roots. Water was a precious resource in the desert. The Bazhir would be shrewd in its use. Maximizing its effectiveness when they created beautiful gardens amidst the sand.
“Well, most of the mischief I got into as a small boy involved Kally.” Roald grinned. Almost ruefully. “She was my gleeful partner in crime. I remember we would escape our nursemaids and tutors to run through the royal portrait gallery. We would jump off the benches too. That was quite wicked of us. I’m sure the kings and queens of the past looked down on our antics with disapproval.”
“That’s high-spirited play.” Shinko smiled slightly. Imagining her betrothed and his favorite, closest sister dashing through the royal portrait gallery. Footsteps echoing off its marble floors. Leaping off the benches. Laughter fountaining from their lips and shining from their eyes. “Not wickedness. That can’t be the worst thing you ever did as a child.”
“Kally and I did like to sneak down to the crypts even though our parents forbade it. It was scary down there, but we took a perverse pleasure in horrifying ourselves when we were young. In a strange way, we delighted in being terrified and in knowing we were defying our parents’ orders. ” Roald sounded both amused and ashamed of his past self as Shinko recalled the deep, dark cold of the Conte crypts as she visited the catacombs where her future husband’s ancestors were buried beneath stone effigies.
The deep, dark cold that settled into her bones. So different from the sunlight that warmed her skin through her silk kimono as she walked through this Persopolis garden with her intended on a winter’s afternoon that did not feel at all like winter. The desert was radiant with light from the sun. Harnessing the effect of that light through carefully chosen trees, statues, and trellises would be an important task of the garden’s architects and gardeners, Shinko knew.
“That was only exploring.” Shinko flicked her fan in dismissal of this account of youthly transgression. “Chilish curiosity. There is nothing evil in that.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.” Roald recited the cliche common to the Eastern lands that was unknown to the Yamani Islands where cats represented good luck and protection. Not curiosity that could kill. He continued with another story starring him and Kally as miscreants. “When we were little, Kally and I used to resemble each other more than we do now.”
“I could see that.” Shinko could indeed envision it. How alike Roald and Kally would have been before puberty set in. Before Roald’s shoulders broadened. Before Kally’s body developed the curving shape of a woman’s.
“We could pass for twins if she wore a shirt and breeches.” Roald’s expression was reminiscent. Softened by fond memory. “And tucked her hair under a cap, of course. Our nursemaids and tutors hated that trick. Only our parents could tell us apart when we did that.”
“Of course they could. You have different eyes and noses.” Shinko’s keen gaze had noticed that as it did so many things. Roald’s eyes were shaped like his mother’s; Kally’s like their father’s. Roald’s nose was a strong K’miri one inherited from his mother; Kally’s was hooked as her father’s. A parent, a mother or a father, would be attuned to such differences. Such minor variations in the face. “But that is a matter of dress-up and disguise, not wickedness.”
“You are determined to excuse all my childhood wickedness.” Roald chuckled quietly.
“So–” Shinko flapped her fan, creating a breeze to cool them– “share a youthful wickedness I can’t excuse.”
“Well.” Roald bit his lower lip. Suddenly hesitant. “It doesn’t show me in the best light.”
“That is the point of me ferreting out your worst youthful wickedness.” Shinko was calm. Unruffled as the pool they had passed earlier. “Your youthful wickedness is not supposed to cast you in the best light but in your darkest shadow.”
The play of light and shadow. That was what this walk was all about, Shinko had decided. The aesthetic and purpose of this Persopolis garden.
“There was a time when I was six.” Roald continued to chew on his lip. Nudged into speech by her words. “My curiosity got the better of me. I decided it would be a good idea to creep like a thief into my father’s study and try to break through the shielding wards around the Dominion Jewel so I could touch it for myself even though I was very much forbidden from doing so. I ached to feel it in my hands because I had heard so many tales about it. How powerful it was.”
“That was truly wicked!” Shinko exclaimed. Astonished and appalled that her betrothed could ever have been so defiant. So impulsive and imprudent. So reckless and unfearing of danger. She had never been that uninhibited. Even when small.
“Papa was furious at me.” Roald’s cheeks were burning red embers. “I don’t think I’ve made him that angry since. Not that I ever want to make him that angry again. I have some survival instincts now. No longer being six-years-old.”
“He had a right to his anger under the circumstances.” Shinko tapped her betrothed’s wrist gently with her fan as they approached a pavilion. Carved from limestone and topped with a dome. A pavilion so different from any that would have been found in a Yamani garden though the shade provided from the blazing sun would be more valuable and appreciated in this dry desert heat than in the damp island mists of her homeland.“You cannot blame him for it.”
“He did, and I do not,” Roald agreed. Giving a sober nod before his tone took on a teasing air. “I have one more wickedness I should confess, Shinko. One I very much hope you can forgive me for.”
“Go on,” Shinko prompted when he remained quiet. “A crime unconfessed can never be forgiven.”
“I have an overpowering temptation to kiss you.” Roald leaned toward her. Didn’t kiss her. Just murmured into her ear as if he were confiding a scandalous secret that could destory him if broadly circulated.
“I am your betrothed.” Shinko’s face flamed. Her eyes dropped to the ground. Modesty seemed to demand that she avert her gaze from him in this moment when her heart was suddenly racing in her chest. When her pulse was pounding, and it was hard for her to breathe. To maintain her composure and dignity as a properly reared Yamani woman. Expected to display impeccable etiquette at all times. To never waver in doing so. “I suppose we can forgive you that desire.”
Surely, she thought, it would be more wrong if he didn’t desire her at all. If she wasn’t a temptation to him in this garden that smelled of cypress and pomegranate trees.