Whys

Madeline was recently on punishment for trying to bury her journal. She wanted to rid herself of possibility, and to forget what was. In her wishing, she did forget. She forgot that those pages contain our history, not just that of the men that came Before. As Gorean men we learn that hiding how we feel is unhealthy, that such supression is dangerous, and lowers us to the status of those unable to live in a world where expression of feeling and control of outlying factors are incompatible. And yet, I see it everyday here now, men who prefer the slaves to keep quiet, not cry or show their inner struggle. Why? Because they feel they must keep up a facade, and not show that the slaves' hurt touches them. In the end, I am not sure who suffered the most during this punishment time. Her or me. I've grown used to having her in my couch every night, long length of her in satin skin perfection, and honey toss. Using her in the middle of the night, when she isn't quite expecting it, and listening to moans that could be from both pleasure and sleep deprivation. With all the punishment, and back and forth explanations, I don't think she really understood until we were in the shop and I told her the truth. 'It hurt, you see.' Men aren't supposed to confess that anyone has that ability, we're supposed to be indestructible, especially where slaves are concerned. But how many wars have been fought on this planet, because of the love of one man, for one woman?

I haven't asked her when she decided she loved me. I'm not sure it would make any difference. She has not asked me either, perhaps because it does not matter. Interestingly, however, she has not asked why. Why? Not just because she is soft, sensual blond, although there is certainly that. She is intelligent, and it's not something I'm sure that many people understand. I love her because when I was at my worst, when I was apathetic to everything in this world except my son, she appeared again. And kept appearing. No matter what I was throwing at her, what traces I was putting her through, even though she did not belong to me. How long would it have gone on, if she had not asked why I continued talking about men besides myself wanting to buy her? If she had not revealed that it was me she wanted over her? I don't know. And how long would it have gone on, if the new owner of the cafe had not sold her? Knowing she was mine, in all but legality? Again, I don't know. I know that working with her, forcing her limits, and seeing her improvements reminded me of things I had forgotten. I had to return to being something besides the Scribe. Something besides Julian's father. I had to return to being a man, for myself, and so that she could be a woman.

We loitered at the hot springs yesterday, for ahns. It was too warm, but I didn't want to leave. By the time we left, everyone had been gone awhile. I wanted to take her there, pressed her hand against me so she would know, but instead presented her a new goal. One implement, and a presented argument of why I ought to use it on her. I am curious to see what she will bring, and why. We encountered Skirt at the fountain last night, and while I was engaged in conversation with Nash and a new student, I think Madeline might have discussed the matter with the Pepper Half.

Afterward, we all came back to Stylus, and Julian knew there was company. He insisted on seeing everyone, and followed Madeline into the kitchen when she went to get drinks. He was drawing her along into the main room a few moments later, and I wonder now what they talked about in their absence. She seemed more at ease with him, and it was the longest the two have ever been in one another's company, though he talks about her often to me. He is his father's son, and once his father had put him back into his couch for the night, his father finished the interlude with the blonde slave. Why wait for the implement to be introduced?

Between Father and Son

'Nonny say Madeline may miss Casta Anne.'
"Yes, that is possible son, she very well might."
'Yes, yes. Miss her. Miss her. And so Juli Anne ask Nonny if we make doll look like Casta Anne for Madeline. Nonny say yes. Fate help.'
::pause::
"That reminds me son, there was something I've been meaning to tell you."
::Julian arranges Kurby next to him for the night, large blue eyes in wide peer at his father::
"Fate and I have been trying, to have a child together."
::another pause, this one longer, and Julian's face has fitted into that expression of utmost contemplation::
'Will new baby be my brother or sister?'
"Yes, that's right."
'Is Fate my momma?'
"No, your mother went away, just as I told you."
'Fate went away. Nonny say so.'
"She did, but she isn't your mother, and she came back to us."
::another long pause::
'Fate will be baby's momma though, like Aunt Th'rise is Casta Anne's momma? And Syril Truff momma?'
"Yes, that's right. Just like that."
'New baby look like truff first?'
"Right, yes, the new baby will look like a truff first. But, it may take awhile before there is a truff. I will let you know."
::Julian nods, and squirms further down under his covers::
'We need go Cos, Da. See Casta Anne for Madeline. Juli Anne ask Casta Anne about truff. Then ask truff about Fate.'
"I think that can be arranged. What are you going to ask about the truff and Fate?"
'Is secret.'
::Julian rolls over, and falls asleep soon after, his father unsuccessful in finding out what the secret happens to be::

Lacking

Something must be cataloged so that I don't forget, but the motivation is lacking.

I've been working a great deal lately, after the incident surrounding Kasra, Zeb, Portia, and Skirt, Madeline, and myself all left to wander the desert. I had gone walking one evening, and come back the next morning to discover the camp had been moved in my absence. I walked into Kasra, rented a room in an inn, and bathed. After this I went into the market, and found Madeline. Zeb came along shortly thereafter, and we eventually convened to eat dinner. Having been contacted by one of Lucien's men, we left for Salacious Steel. Except that when we arrived, it was to find the group had already embarked for the house were it was believed Corinn was being held. When we arrived there, we found a few that had stayed behind in a camp among nomads, but no sign of the Ubar's general group. I waited until the next day for direction, and receiving no word, returned to Ar.

Last night, I walked about in search of Madeline. I found her at the cliff with Portia and Ups. She was attempting to bury the journal she has been using, the journal she'd had Before, and that I allowed her to continue scripting her thoughts in. I think my pointing out that it is mine, not hers, came as an epiphany. When I mentioned that she was basically disposing of all the lessons learned in the time Before, and since, she said she had not thought of that. Which is rather the point. I'm not sure she understands yet, but I had her sleep on the furs in the main room last night, while I did not sleep at all.

On a better note, Fate and I have been working toward our common goal. No sign of anything yet, or anyone to be more precise, but we've only been able to meet twice. We use the guest room at the far end of the second floor, which has a nice view, and stays warmer than any other room in the house due to its position and size. I gave her a few items I thought she might make use of later, and one for now, one that never was used by the person for whom it was originally intended. It's not love, at least not in the sense of romantic attachment, but it's still important. Our children, girls she believes they might be, will have a set of devoted parents. I think she felt I might be angry about girls, finding them lacking, but the first person I ever raised was a girl.