Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I retraced my steps in the direction of the dormitorium, wondering if I was still expected to fulfill my duties that day, much troubled in heart and soul, turning over in my mind the tenets of the strange philosophy expounded to me by Sister Gwendolyn. Even more than the tableaux of the previous night these diabolical views shocked me to the core. She couldn’t have been serious. I had no idea what time it was or how many of my chores were neglected. I was tired and incapable of thinking clearly, a lingering result of the drugged wine combined with so many strong feelings and new sensations. I was not afraid of the Abbess though. I had a feeling she wanted my true work to lie in the rituals enacted in the Misericord. I thought of her, strong and imperious, bending the lesser sisters to her will. She would submit me to the same domination. It was to be my fate to be her toy, her thing, forever. I decided to go back to sleep. I twisted the neck of the Beautoix effigy continuously, taking out on it my frustration and confusion as I walked the grounds, absorbed in thought. Approaching the entrance to my dormitory I saw Sister Mary sitting on the stoop with an enormous black cat in her lap which she massaged with both hands, rolling its furred skin up and talking in a low sweet voice the way one talks with children. The animal blinked its alabaster eyes with pleasure. She smiled brightly, locking her tiny eyes on mine. She lowered the cat to the ground and rose to meet me. “Her name is Hecuba. She’s a good kitty. I’d like to come into your cell if you don’t mind. elvankent escort bayan We should talk.” “Can we talk another time Sister Mary? I am feeling a little out of sorts today. I would take a nap and refresh myself.” Her smile faded and she frowned with reproach. “Gwendolyn is not the only one bearing gifts.” She took my ugly doll, made a face at it, giggled and made it dance in the air before giving it back. “I also have my contribution but it is not such as I would wish the common sisters to see. Come now.” She took my hand and we walked into the dormitory, she leading me. We entered my cell. Mary sat in my lone wooden chair. I sat on the edge of my cot. She produced from the folds of her habit a heavy piece of rolled hempen fabric and placed it on my table. She smiled again, her teeth like miniature pearls. Everything about her was small. I spoke first. “I just talked with Sister Gwendolyn as you know. I could scarcely believe my ears. Is this really a coven of…pagans? And I am expected to join you? To participate in your lascivious rites?” She didn’t answer me right away. She listened intently but regarded me as one might regard some strange specimen of Nature. Was she listening to the meaning of my words or to the unspoken spirit they hid from view? “You silly witch. What are you saying? Your hypocrisy defies belief. I hear the insincerity in your voice even as you ask these questions. You don’t realize what a gift you’ve been given. We are free here. Now. Free to love and worship the way WE want Escort emek to. Samhain will liberate you. Gaia will liberate you. You will never look back. You will never wish to. Gwendolyn is silly and irreverent but she told you the truth.” Her tone was gently remonstrating, her voice puissant and rich; her eyes glowed mournfully like last nights embers. “What is Samhain? Will the dead really come back to life?” “Yes! Don’t be frightened. They merely ask for their due, a share of our living energy, once a year, so that they can sleep peacably in their graves and not be compelled to torment the living.” “Must we give them Beautoix? As much as I loathe the man, I do not wish to murder him!” “Whatever happens to Monsieur will be Gaia’s doing, not yours. And we will not know Her will until we are in Her presence and under Her inspiration.” “So what am I to do?” “The Abbess has instructed me to convey you to the Misericord at the appropriate hour. She seems to think that that hour will be marked by some sign from the dead. At any rate we will undergo certain preliminaries there and will then depart to our sacred grove of ancient oaks, to summon the nether spirits and worship our Goddess. More I cannot tell you.” “How will the Abbess ensnare Beautoix? He is rich, powerful and crafty. He rides with a bodyguard of ruffians at all times.” Thinking of this I remembered with a flash of anger that these men had murdered and likely violated my Cordelia. “Some men’s weakness is beauty, which the Abbess has in plenty but your husband seems eryaman escort the type to be motivated more by…” “Cupidity. Greed. Avarice.” I stated. “Yes, Monsieur’s ‘business’ in these parts is a carefully contrived ruse. And she means to deliver unto Gaia not only Monsieur but his entire entourage. Does this please you or do you pity these men?” I felt hatred in my heart, cold and pure, but I did not wish to confess this. My eyes went to the cloth bundle. Seeing my interest she picked it up. As she unravelled, its coarse pale gray darkened with moisture. Out of this she produced a lacquered and polished piece of wood covered in an oil that smelled of lavender and pine. It struck a chord in my memory. I saw clearly now in my minds eye those arcane objects mounted between pegs to the ancient stone wall, given a numinous mystique by concentric haloes of crimson light emitted by dozens of candles, and the thick smell of incense. I had been entirely puzzled, wondering in what their utility could possibly lay. I assumed this one had been taken from that dark room below. “This is for fun, during your long nights of dreaming of … sweet, sweet Cordelia… “ she mocked in a high-pitched imitation of a lovestruck girl. I then grasped the meaning and use of the object proffered. I thought I would faint. Did these sisters know no modesty at all? I put my hands on its slick surface and caressed it, letting my hands glide. It was smooth and of an exotic species of wood I could not identify. A deep brown with lighter veins running along it, around 8 inches long, from a bulbous base it tapered into a sort of stem capping with a mushroom-like knob, a fine piece of craftsmanship. Mary watched me. Though my attention was absorbed I could sense her interest. She looked as if she would love to touch the fetish but restrained herself out of courtesy. She sidled next to me.