Year of the Boar, Seventh Month, Day 8.
My hand shakes so much, I can barely hold my brush straight. I have already managed to spread ink all over the parchment and all over my sleeves but I must record this latest ... what, incident? Episode? I hardly know what to call it. I am alone for now... Nanami became frustrated with my refusal to speak a short while ago and burst into tears before fleeing my chamber. I wanted to confide in her but I just could not bring myself to show her and feel that shame all over again. The Diplomats decided that there was too much to be done in order to get me to the Talks this morning and so rather than hand me their papers leaf by leaf, they simply left a great pile of things needing my attention on my tea table. I looked through them idly, half reading and then I came upon it...
Oh, I do not know that I can even make my brush form the characters on my page... my cheeks are flushed so deeply with shame and my belly is a knotted mass. A scroll... a scroll bearing his seal. Why did I open it? Why? I could have held it over the glowing end of the stick until it caught fire and never have read it. But if I had, I would never have been able to rest. What am I saying? I cannot rest now... He has written to me. Not a terribly long letter but long enough... Oh... gods... even from his own House he has the power to terrify me, to sicken me... Now that I have seen this, I cannot go to the Talks. Protocol be damned. I will not go and sit across a Table from him while he leers and delivers subtle threats detectable only to me... I cannot... I cannot bear the thought of being in the same House as him... and after I read the letter, I thrust it in my sleeve so that Nanami and the other maids could not see and I sat dumbstruck, held hostage by my own fears.
I can barely breathe as I kneel here, doubled over my writing table, my head spins and I know that in a while I will vomit. I will not be able to stop it. I am afraid to let go of this feeling; if I do, I will begin crying again and I do not think that this time, I will be able to stop. Why... why is he doing this...? He has had his pleasure, surely he could just... let me be...? The letter rustles in my sleeve, crumpled against my arm but I am afraid to remove it. Business to resume as usual once the Talks begin, he says. He reminds me of our agreement and says it is far from dissolved. He is divorcing his wife and intends to spend more of his time at Dying Crane since he cannot properly keep his agreement and defend my borders when he is at Fallen Sakura. In graphic detail he tells me what he wishes to do with my body.
Things I am sick at the thought of... things he never did while I paid my tribute 'willingly'.
I cannot let him touch me again. I cannot look into his fish-like eyes and see the hunger in them again. I cannot leave Dying Crane. I will not. I wish that I had refused him or tried somehow to stop him when I was a child. There are plenty who think I should lie in the bed I have made myself but do I deserve this, now? This... sickness, this pain?
He is right when he says that I cause grief wherever I go but is being his bedmate really all I am good for...? Gods, help me. Please, please help me...
Oh, I do not know that I can even make my brush form the characters on my page... my cheeks are flushed so deeply with shame and my belly is a knotted mass. A scroll... a scroll bearing his seal. Why did I open it? Why? I could have held it over the glowing end of the stick until it caught fire and never have read it. But if I had, I would never have been able to rest. What am I saying? I cannot rest now... He has written to me. Not a terribly long letter but long enough... Oh... gods... even from his own House he has the power to terrify me, to sicken me... Now that I have seen this, I cannot go to the Talks. Protocol be damned. I will not go and sit across a Table from him while he leers and delivers subtle threats detectable only to me... I cannot... I cannot bear the thought of being in the same House as him... and after I read the letter, I thrust it in my sleeve so that Nanami and the other maids could not see and I sat dumbstruck, held hostage by my own fears.
I can barely breathe as I kneel here, doubled over my writing table, my head spins and I know that in a while I will vomit. I will not be able to stop it. I am afraid to let go of this feeling; if I do, I will begin crying again and I do not think that this time, I will be able to stop. Why... why is he doing this...? He has had his pleasure, surely he could just... let me be...? The letter rustles in my sleeve, crumpled against my arm but I am afraid to remove it. Business to resume as usual once the Talks begin, he says. He reminds me of our agreement and says it is far from dissolved. He is divorcing his wife and intends to spend more of his time at Dying Crane since he cannot properly keep his agreement and defend my borders when he is at Fallen Sakura. In graphic detail he tells me what he wishes to do with my body.
Things I am sick at the thought of... things he never did while I paid my tribute 'willingly'.
I cannot let him touch me again. I cannot look into his fish-like eyes and see the hunger in them again. I cannot leave Dying Crane. I will not. I wish that I had refused him or tried somehow to stop him when I was a child. There are plenty who think I should lie in the bed I have made myself but do I deserve this, now? This... sickness, this pain?
He is right when he says that I cause grief wherever I go but is being his bedmate really all I am good for...? Gods, help me. Please, please help me...
posted by Lady Yuika | 00:34
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