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tamingthemuseTitle: Succumbing To Temptation
Fandom: Folklore
Pairing: Implied
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: He was stuck in a tannery with the shutters closed on the hottest day of the year.
The streets were silent as a church, the windows shuttered and the doors to the houses closed, even against the sweltering heat. The silence was shattered by the cry of a child, hushed hastily against a breast behind the barriers that blocked the lane from sight.
Thomas Tanner sat in the center of his shop, mopping the sweat from his brow with a spare piece of cloth. He realized the import of the situation; it didn’t seem that big a deal now that his eyes were burning from the chemicals and solutions that he used everyday. Every other day he was able to vent the toxic fumes with the open doors and windows. Today, when the processes were at their most delicate stage, he was locked behind closed doors and windows with not a breeze in sight.
There was nowhere that he could go to get relief.
The Lady’s bargain had been struck and the edict had been issued and he was stuck in a tannery on the hottest day of the year. Of course, since he was on the farthest end of the city, she would pass by him last, forcing him to endure the entire hour instead of the few minutes those closest to the castle would.
He looked around the shop in a strange haze of desperate hope. If there was a crack, a small space that he could press his nose against, he needed to find it before the fumes overtook him. He stood and staggered over to the back door, the lesser of two evils, and looked at the shutters that blocked the light.
They were well made, smooth and stained with years of exposure to tannins and dyes. He could find no flaw in their surface, his fingertips brushing against the wood.
It was suffocating him. He was distantly aware that his breathing was becoming more shallow and pained as he moved around the edge of the wall to the next window.
He inched his way around the shop until he reached the front window. His hand brushed against a knothole in the wood, about a third of the way from the top edge, rough against his seeking fingers. It had swollen slightly, the edge separating from the solid wood around it and rejecting the flaw.
Nature’s defense would be his saving grace. With a knife from his apron pocket he pried at the raised edge of the knot, finally hearing it pop free from the tight wood’s viselike grip and fall to the floor. The sweet rush of fresh air was intoxicating and he stood on tiptoe to force his nose out of the hole to breathe in relatively untainted air.
The slow clopping of hooves echoed off the shops around him and he dropped to his heels once again. She would choose now to pass his way! It had been years since he’d seen her up close. Not since the last time that she had snuck away from her nurse, right before she married Dyson. She had kissed him that last night, her mouth sweet as the berries that they had shared. He could still feel his heart pound at her memory.
Deliberately, he raised slightly onto his toes, his eye seeking the knothole, yearning for a peek. Just a glance at what he missed, what dreams would have filled his nights had things been a little different and class did not exist.
He could see the tails of her escorts’ horses, flicking back and forth violently. The flies at this end of town were especially bad. He saw the grey nose of her mount as it entered his view and waited, holding his breath.
She slowed, sensing that she had an observer. He drank her in—her lush breasts barely covered by her shift, her long golden hair spreading over her shoulder to cover all but the tips from his sight. Her curvy buttocks filled the leather saddle that he had crafted with his own two hands, fitting her seat perfectly with cupped hands like a lover.
He looked at her face and saw the tears of embarrassment in her eyes. “Oh, Tom,” he saw her whisper as she gestured with her hand. Blackness descended and he fell back from the window, her face the last in his memory.
He woke hours later, his sight still gone. He was too despondent to rail at the unfairness of it all. He had succumbed to the temptation and he paid the price. Oh, what a price it was.
Fandom: Folklore
Pairing: Implied
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: He was stuck in a tannery with the shutters closed on the hottest day of the year.
The streets were silent as a church, the windows shuttered and the doors to the houses closed, even against the sweltering heat. The silence was shattered by the cry of a child, hushed hastily against a breast behind the barriers that blocked the lane from sight.
Thomas Tanner sat in the center of his shop, mopping the sweat from his brow with a spare piece of cloth. He realized the import of the situation; it didn’t seem that big a deal now that his eyes were burning from the chemicals and solutions that he used everyday. Every other day he was able to vent the toxic fumes with the open doors and windows. Today, when the processes were at their most delicate stage, he was locked behind closed doors and windows with not a breeze in sight.
There was nowhere that he could go to get relief.
The Lady’s bargain had been struck and the edict had been issued and he was stuck in a tannery on the hottest day of the year. Of course, since he was on the farthest end of the city, she would pass by him last, forcing him to endure the entire hour instead of the few minutes those closest to the castle would.
He looked around the shop in a strange haze of desperate hope. If there was a crack, a small space that he could press his nose against, he needed to find it before the fumes overtook him. He stood and staggered over to the back door, the lesser of two evils, and looked at the shutters that blocked the light.
They were well made, smooth and stained with years of exposure to tannins and dyes. He could find no flaw in their surface, his fingertips brushing against the wood.
It was suffocating him. He was distantly aware that his breathing was becoming more shallow and pained as he moved around the edge of the wall to the next window.
He inched his way around the shop until he reached the front window. His hand brushed against a knothole in the wood, about a third of the way from the top edge, rough against his seeking fingers. It had swollen slightly, the edge separating from the solid wood around it and rejecting the flaw.
Nature’s defense would be his saving grace. With a knife from his apron pocket he pried at the raised edge of the knot, finally hearing it pop free from the tight wood’s viselike grip and fall to the floor. The sweet rush of fresh air was intoxicating and he stood on tiptoe to force his nose out of the hole to breathe in relatively untainted air.
The slow clopping of hooves echoed off the shops around him and he dropped to his heels once again. She would choose now to pass his way! It had been years since he’d seen her up close. Not since the last time that she had snuck away from her nurse, right before she married Dyson. She had kissed him that last night, her mouth sweet as the berries that they had shared. He could still feel his heart pound at her memory.
Deliberately, he raised slightly onto his toes, his eye seeking the knothole, yearning for a peek. Just a glance at what he missed, what dreams would have filled his nights had things been a little different and class did not exist.
He could see the tails of her escorts’ horses, flicking back and forth violently. The flies at this end of town were especially bad. He saw the grey nose of her mount as it entered his view and waited, holding his breath.
She slowed, sensing that she had an observer. He drank her in—her lush breasts barely covered by her shift, her long golden hair spreading over her shoulder to cover all but the tips from his sight. Her curvy buttocks filled the leather saddle that he had crafted with his own two hands, fitting her seat perfectly with cupped hands like a lover.
He looked at her face and saw the tears of embarrassment in her eyes. “Oh, Tom,” he saw her whisper as she gestured with her hand. Blackness descended and he fell back from the window, her face the last in his memory.
He woke hours later, his sight still gone. He was too despondent to rail at the unfairness of it all. He had succumbed to the temptation and he paid the price. Oh, what a price it was.
