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The Book of the Blue House

I quite enjoyed this interaction between Matteo and Quinton. I am glad Matteo can be honest with Quinton without being hurtful. I look forward to reading about their night together. Great writing and I look forward to more soon. Christmas is almost over for me but just starting for you so I hope it is a nice day and ill look forward to more stories after it.
 
Oh, my goodness, what a Christmas it has been. I'm glad you enjoyed reading and I love Matteo and Quinton. As I said before, it's Christmas Night over here, and I assume I'll be talking to you later.
 
TONIGHT, OUR TALE CONTINUES



Above, in the warmth of their apartments, Conn drifted off to the fan turning in lazy circles, sending heat over him. Conn went to bed early that night, or at least he fell asleep on the great sofa almost as soon as he had come in from the cold. He wanted to sprawl and didn’t want to sprawl across Derek or Lorne or whoever else might climb inside the bed tonight, and so he took the couch. He knew he would be up in a little while.
Conn was surprised when he woke to only one small desk lamp and though there was the noise of subdued life in Cal’s room, Derek lay dozing on the bed, and Lorne was cocooned in his usual corner. There was not Matteo. When Conn got up, Cal and Gabriel were in the kitchen and told him there were some hotballs leftover. Conn took a plate of them back to the room he shared with Derek and Lorne and sipped sweet juice while he burned his tongue on the hot peppers dipped in cheese and fried. He felt his tongue burn and then took another one, enjoying the pleasure before he got up and went down the little hall to Derek’s old room, but tonight he was surprised to see little, merry baldhead Jon from Purplekirk, naked with his ass pointed in the air, spread over Nialla who was asleep. Jon was not quite asleep and he blinked and saw Conn, but was not embarrassed. Instead he smiled conspiritorialy and put a finger to his lips, then turned his head to the dark while Conn, admiring his form, gave the little man one last look and turned to undress and climb into bed beside Derek after he had blown out the light.

The next morning they all went up to breakfast on the seventh floor, Nialla and Sara and John as well as Conn, and close to them at their long table, Conn saw Matt sitting beside Quinton. Their heads were close together and both were blushing, and Matteo when he saw Conn, jumped up and came to him, saying, “I’m sorry for never getting back upstairs last night.”
Conn looked knowingly at Quinton who looked, though he never seemed unhappy, happier than usual, and said, “It’s not my place to guess or ask, but I feel like you may have had other pressing business.”
Matt cleared his throat and the young man with the wide apart eyes and the wolfish face looked momentarily shy, then said, “Well, yes.”
“Oh good,” Conn said beside Derek who was making a study of not caring.
“Shall we come to you all for lunch?” Matteo asked.
“Please do,” it was Derek who said it now.
Matteo grinned and walked off, and Cal was watching him but saying nothing.
“Does this mean that Matteo’s going to take up the novice now?” Derek said.
“It means he slept with Quint, but does that necessarily mean he’s going to be a Blue?” Conn said. “I mean…” he let it hang in the air.
“But Matteo came as a postulant and the intiation for a postulant is to be with a Blue,” Derek said. “You didn’t come as a postulant. ”
Derek added, putting too much mustard on his salad, “I’m not your initation.”
“You’re sort of my initiation,” Conn noted.
As they ate, Conn asked, “Would you like to see my become a Blue?”
“No,” Derek’s mouth shut like a trap.
“What if it’s my call?”
“It’s not,” Derek said, simply.
A moment later, Derek said, “Connleth, are you teasing me?”
“Maybe. Maybe a little,” Conn said.
“If it is your call it’s your call and that’s between you and the Lord Himself, but…” Derek shook his head, “I don’t think it is.”
Conn could tell that Derek didn’t want to discuss this.
But Derek’s mood was not the only thing on his mind. When Conn returned to the suite of rooms giddy and dizzied by so many feelings, he sat on the large bed and looked around the room. In the late morning in early winter, the lamps off,with only him and piled clothes, it looked strangely bereft. He was lost in his non thoughts when he heard a bustling from Derek’s room and then he heard Jon calling, “Anyone here?”
“Yeah,” Conn’s voice was dry. He swallowed and tried again. “It’s me.”
Jon came down the hall with his usual merry smile.
“I was getting the last of my things before I head back to the Kirk,” he said.
“Will you be here for lunch?” Conn asked him, closing his thighs over the boner he was getting.”
“Yeah,” Jon said. “Probably.”
Then, “I dunno. I haven’t shown my face there since last night.”
Jon was Sendic, blondish and palish like pale wood, blue eyed, his head shaven, his handsome face just a little monkeyish. Compact, he was even shorter than Nailla and now he slipped on the furlined jacket and pulled the grey skull cap over his head, He winked and gave Conn a thumb’s up, and turned to leave going down the hall toward Derek’s room.
But as he did, almost non chalanlty, he lowered his trousers so that Conn could look, once more on his fair ass, milky, smooth, round as two eggs. And then laughing, he pulled up his breeches and was gone.

But soon the new love or whatever it was between Matteo and Quinton, and Derek’s sudden onset of crabbiness not to mention the memory of Jon’s naked body linked with his sister, and the strange feelings it brought up in him all gave way as a whisper went down the tables and at last came form Gabriel and Cal to Derek and Conn and Nialla beside him.
“Ekkrebeth has come. Ekkrebeth is here, with the Abbot, in the Blue Temple itself, and they say he is preparing for war.”

That night was the first time Conn was in the Hall of Gathering. He had never been to the sanctuary, so he did not know that it rested on the otherside of the offering rooms that surrounded the offering pool, but one stepped down to this level and its thick, round pillars of cool, blue stone. All about the hall, lying about, squatting on their hams, legs folded under them, were the residents of Hyrum House, and Conn was always surprised by how many there were, and how different they all were. There were more dependents like him than he had suspected, and and they were all sitting down on the ground or on the steps. There were no tables and no chairs except the one that the man, in his own blue robes, but quite different from everyone else’s, was sitting in.
He was a Royan, his skin caramel brown with touches of red in it, as if a permanent sunset was upon him, and his head was clean shaven. He robe was voluminous and almost open at his breast, but it was an electric or sea blue different from the robes of everyone else in the House and his hands were long and red brown and somehow powerful, as was his face that was young and quiet, and seemed to be waiting, but not waiting for silence, for that was what he already had.
“Master Ekkrebeth, have you been to the palace?” Cal asked.
:”Have you been to the palace, and has the King had anything to say about what will come?” another asked, and Ekkrebeth looked around the room, and now Conn thought that he was not here to ask, but maybe to answer all of these questions.
“Will Prince Anson have to fight?’
“Have you seen the Prince?”
“If Cedd is the heir to the throne, then why does not Cedd do the fighting himself?”
“Do you think the King will go into battle or is he too old?”
“Will Chyr help?”
“Do you think the Dauman will cross our border?”
“Of course they won’t.”
“They did before, they did. For years they sat on the Throne in Ondres.”
“But never again. Never again.”
“How can you say that when half of us in here have the blood of Domans?”
And all this time, the man called Ekkrebeth said nothing. His face was still, and his eyes lowered, and occasionally he shared a glance with Abbot Hyrum, but it was the Prior, Eutropius who said, “You all ask so many questions and you do not give Ekkrebeth a chance to speak.”
Ekkrebeth smiled, and he said, “Firstly, I have not been to the palace. For that would be unwelcome.’
“But you are the King’s councilor,” they protested. “You are the king’s Voice. The King swore to always hear you.”
“Well, you know the Arcbishop and the High Prince are against that, and I wish to cause no trouble, so I am far off until I am needed again.”
Again there were outcries from the Blues against this, though it was mostly only the young speaking.
“There is more for me to do in Chyr, and in Rheged, in the old kingdoms, and in the secret places than standing in the court of an old king with new allies who do not want me,” Ekkrebeth said, “and I am headed off soon into the north, for the truth is war is to come. There will be war in the south, and I will look for help in the north and in the west.”
“But what of Prince Anson?”
“The Prince always leads his troops into battle. I have no doubt he will do so again.”
“Look at how calm he is,” Derek marveled, seemed almost outraged. “The Lord Akkrebeth is a man above me, for everyone knows he loves Anson and Anson loves him, yet now they are parted, and he must merely accept the way of things!”
“I came back here,” Ekkrebeth said, “to be among my brothers, and to take solace in the House of Annar before departing, to learn of your news, and you are here to learn of my news, before I return to the north.”
“He’s a Blue?” Conn said. “He does not seem like a… He is different.”
“He is different but he is part of us,” Gabriel explained as one old priest began to speak to Ekkrebeth in a quavering voice.
“He is a mage,” Derek said. “Ekkrebeth is a sorcerer of great reknown.”
“The only sorcerer I’ve ever heard about around here is Ashe of Margate.”
“Duckling,” Cal said tenderly, clapping Conn’s head, “That is Ashe of Margate. Ekkrebeth is his great name, and it is the name we give him when he comes here.”
“He is ours and we are his.” Gabriel said aoslmenly, almost like a chant.
“Will the Age of Love begin now?” Raphaelin asked.
“That is not for me to say. I am no prophet,” Ekkrebeth answered, “and as far as I see we are still very much in the Age of War. These matters are spoken of by the Annar Annarim whom you see on the streets, coming more and more westward from Nyssa. They have another vision of Annar which has been given neither to you or to I and I would believe them…”
“Akkrabeth is a different branch of the same tree,” Lorne explained, and Conn did not pretend he understood.
Derek shook his head.
“We are not explaining it well. We sound foolish. I will explain it to you later, Conn. That and a great many other things.”

AND THERE WILL BE MORE TOMORROW
 
That was some great writing! This story is becoming very interesting and more complicated but I am enjoying it. I don't know what is going to happen with Conn but I am excited to find out. I look forward to more tomorrow. :)
 
WHILE JEALOUSY MAKES DEREK RE EXAMINE THE COSTS OF BEING A BLUE PRIESTS, MATTEO LET'S GO OF HIS FEAR AND MOVES TOWARD HIS OWN DESTINY

“I need to talk to you,” Derek said. “I need to speak to you in private.”
Derek had been, frankly, irritated the whole day, and Conn wondered if Derek had some words of irritation to say to him. If he did, so be it.
“In your room?” Conn suggested.
“That would be best,” Derek said.
The room was unlit and Conn thought of the other night, when the moonlight had come in shining on the small naked body of Jon, stretched across Nialla and grinning.
Derek took a deep breath, and he was playing with his hands, and looking at the floor, not, in fact, looking angry.
“This is hard for me,” Derek said, “because I feel like a fool.”
“What?” Conn said.
“Please forgive me,” Derek told him. “I am jealous.”
“What?” Conn began, then stopped himself, realizing he’d just said that.
Derek turned around and held him lightly by the shoulders.
“When you first came here, when you first came to me, it wasn’t long before I felt the way I could not say, couldn’t even say until today, that you were mine.”
“But,” Conn started, not understanding, “But I am yours.”
“No, you’re not,” Derek said, as if informing him. “No one owns anyone else. You are not mine. And when you talked about being a Blue—”
“I wasn’t serious,” Conn began. Then he said, “Well, I don’t know. I wasn’t completely serious, but…”
“All I could think of was you with all those other people, and that’s not fair because, of course, I am a Blue. It’s not fair to be angry about you doing what I do at least three days of each week, what I have done for nearly four years. It’s just that, it was easier to do it when there was no one to come home to.”
Conn decided it was best to say nothing. It seemed like Derek was thinking things out and needed to come to his own words.
“Gabriel is not mine. Cal is not mine. Lorne is not mine. Not even Raphael when he was my partner was mine. No one has ever been mine. What we do together is… communal. We’re friends. There’s love, but it isn’t… exclusive. Isn’t…”
“Possessive?” Conn suggested.
“Yes,” Derek said. “And I feel possessive of you, and that’s wrong.”
“But you do possess me,” Conn said. “Or did you, with all that you do know, not know that?”
Derek looked almost comically in despair for a while and then he said, “How do I convince you that I love you?”
“It seems as if you are the one in need of convincing,” Conn said.
“No,” Derek shook his head and pushed his black hair from his face. “But how can you love me? Knowing what I do. What I will do? And how can I be envious of you looking at another man when…”
“When you more than look at several?”
“Yes.”
Conn shrugged.
“People are strange.”
Derek grimaced more than smiled, but he chuckled.
“Yes, Conn. People are. I am.”
“Maybe if you feel like this,” Conn began, “you should stop being a priest.”
Derek did not answer immediately, and then he said, “There… is something to that.”
Conn laughed outloud and he laughed so hard Derek turned around and looked at him with irritation.
“Oh, take that look off your face!” Conn said.
“I was fooling with you,” Conn told him. “A Blue Priest is what you are. I understand this and don’t think much about it. What you do with other men means little to me. Less than I thought it would. If you cannot grow up, I can. I am not only with you because I feel like I have to be. I have had no desire to be with anyone else but you.”
“Then know this,” Derek said, touching Conn’s hand. “A Blue is the only call I’ve ever known. It is a strong call. It is a vocation, truly, and when I serve in the temple it is pleasure to me. I feared you feeling the pleasure I feel with other men that I feel with them. But when it is done, and even when it is going on, I love you and you fit to me like no other, and when I am not serving, I look at no others. I long for no others but you.”
Conn thought, I wonder how that can be true, for the other night when he’d seen Jon twined with his sister, his first thought was envy, a hot wish that he was Nialla, a desire to run the back of his hand over the soft buttocks of Jon. He had never been with any other man than Derek simply because his longings were new, not because he was some creature of virtue, and he knew this. But he sensed that right now he could not tell Derek. He sensed that, as much as he was coming to love Derek Annaker, and as wise as Derek was in sex, he was not wise in love. So Conn said, “Tell me of Ekkrebeth, as you promised.”
“Ekkrebeth,” Derek began. Then, “Yes. We of the temple, we have a mild magic, all the ancient orders do. But once we were all mages. The Blue Mages now live in the north, and Ekkrebeth is of their number. He is the greatest of their number.”
“But who is Ekkrebeth?” Conn asked again.
“He is one of the Avayan.”
“And who are the Avayan?”
“They are the faces of the Gods. It is said the Gods are too mighty, to different from the world to enter it as themselves, and so they enter it through avatars. Annar entered as the Ard, this is what the New Faith says, and brought their new religion, and also he was Rava the Hero, and before that he was the Beloved Shepherd Adaon, whom we serve. It is said that he is Ekkrebeth as well, that Ekkrebeth is a face of the God Himself.”
“Is this true?”
“I do not know,” Derek said. Then, “I often think so, but cannot know for sure.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
Derek bawked at this.
“You do not ask someone such things.”
“Maybe you do not,” Conn said. “But if I ever meet him, perhaps I will.”


Earlier that morning, Matteo and Quinton had woken up together and Matteo marveled at the small muscular body in his arms, always deeply tanned with the royal blood Quinto must have had in hims. He looked like a southerner what with his red lips and his face the gentle plains of his face, his nose aquiline like Matteo’s only what Matteo could not see as beautiful in himself was beautiful in this young boy sleeping in his arms, even in his sleep looking as serious as he looked sweet. His hair smelled of the lavender he’d washed in and his body smelled of the lovemaking from last night. He had kissed Quinton gently, and then, tthinking he was done, kissed him again and again until Quinton laughed and turned over drawing Matteo to him with his strong arms.
They had made love in the shower on their way to breakfast, and it had been at that breakfast they had heard Ekkrebeth was returned. Matteo thought this must have meant something, but also thought it had little to do with him. He knew who Ash was, and that he was a mage of great power, but he didn’t think he would have much to say to him and, at any road, he was caught up with Quinton because Quinton was Quinton and also because Quinton was the first sex he’d known for some time.
He still remembered last night, as they had shut the door, and holding turned to kissing and the kissing was more demanding and they had stropped quickly. Matt’s awe of Quinton was gone. He felt like they were two boys in love, like he had wanted to feel, but never been able to, and they had come together, not able to get enough of each other, not able to get enough of wrapping their arms and legs together, of simply lying in bed holding each other and burying their faces in each other’s shoulders. Of kissing, oh, the tender firmness of Quint’s lips, the perfection of his kiss, and of his tongue, and the gentleness of his long delicate hands. Was it possible that they’d spent an hour just touching, just running their hands over each other and marveling one at th0e other.
Matt wanted to give himself to Quinton. The little man was so beautiful and so powerful to him, and when they lay together Quint’s sex had risen up and it was thick, almost like a club, and thicker at the head, and Matteo had startled Quinot by taking it in his mouth, taking it down to his throat, not having enough of him.
They didn’t turn the golden lamp out, and Matt rejoiced to think that everyone in the rooms around kenw that he was giving himself to Quinton, that Conn would know why he had not come and understand that love was here. In the dim light, Matt looked down over Quinton’s shoulders and saw his buttocks, like the most perfect, round brown apples, rolling as Quinton moved between his thighs, saw them flexing as, at last, he opened for Quinton.
Quint took Matt’s hands in his face while he fucked him. His lips were parted and his eyes feverish, his face went a little pale, and beads of sweat were on his brow, coming from under his hair. He did it deliberately, and Matt took joy in the slamming of their bodies, took joy in his own cries, Quint made no noise put bit his lip or opened his mouth, closed his eyes or looked into Matt’s and as Quint fucked him, it hurt, It was as if he could feel him growing bigger and bigger inside him, and Matt contracted himself trying to feel all of the pleasure and all of the ache of him. He cried with a little sadness when Quint shuddered and he felt him coming inside of him, knew it was over. But while it lasted it lasted forever, no quick coming, but a jutting and jutting and another jutting, a stop, a spurting, a long spurt, a flow that, while Quint still lay exhausted between his legs, still arched over him, flowed out of Matt onto the bedsheets.


All that day they stayed in Quint’s room and as the evening came, and as they had seen Derek walking off with Conn, telling him they needed to talk, Quinton asked, “Are you going to be one of us now? Now you can have your novice’s robe.”
“What is the difference between me saying yes and me saying no and becoming your lover?”
And then Matt said, “That was forward. You may not even want me like that. Maybe you just wanted me for today. That was forward.”
Matt turned around as if to get out of bed and Quint caught his arm in his strong grip.
“I do want you like that. Ninny,” he added. “But if we’re going to be lovers and you’re not going to be a Blue, we’re going to have some hard conversations, rather like the one I suspect Derek and Conn are having. If you take the Blue Robe I will be your instructor and I will bring you into my world, and we will share it together, and I really think that’s best.”
“I came to be a Blue,” Matt said. “I was… tired of being touched and didn’t think I’d ever want a man to touch me again. And now you have and I feel opened again. I came to be a Blue. I will take the Blue.”

MORE IN A FEW NIGHTS
 
So Derek was jealous? Interesting! I don't know what the future holds for him and Conn but I hope after their talk that they can be together in some way. So Matteo is going to take the Blue, thats cool! That was some great writing and I look forward to more in a few days!
 
Emotions take over, and Derek's natural desire to possess his one love is conflicting with his call as a Blue. Matteo and Quint seem to have a very different answer to what they're doing. Of course, Derek and Conn are together, but neither one of them understood what being together would entail, and the emotional cost.
 
Seven

THE WORK




You look to me because you fear to look within. You look to the teachers and preachers, to temples and holy words because you do not dare to look at the space within. When you gaze into the dark fire within you, you will be overcome with horror and despair, and then, but in the end you will be astounded.

- Ifandell Modet, The Crystal Teaching







Though Gabriel had no trouble telling the old songs in gatherings or in the temple, and indeed had no problem with any of the duties of a priest of the third grade, he had been unnerved that evening telling the story of the White Door in the old fashioned, but sitting with Conn and Matt and Quinton late one morning, when asked by Conn to continue his story of Aengus, he did so gladly.



The Mac Oc went to seek her until he came to Ailill's house in Mag nInis. He was made welcome, and he abode three nights there. He told his mission and announced his name and race. He said that it was in quest of Etain that he had come. "I will not give her to thee," said Ailill, "for I can in no way profit by thee, because of the nobility of thy family, and the greatness of thy power and that of thy father. If thou put any shame on my daughter, no redress whatsoever can be had of thee." "It shall not be so," said the Mac Oc. "I will buy her from thee straightway." "Thou shall have that," said Ailill. "State thy demand," said the Mac Oc. "No hard matter," said Ailill. "Thou shalt clear for me twelve plains in my land that are under waste and wood, so that they may be at all times for grazing cattle and for habitation to me, for games, assemblies, gatherings, and strongholds."
"It shall be done," said the Mac Oc. He returns home and bewailed to the Ollam the strait he was in. The latter caused twelve plains to be cleared in a single night in Ailill's land. Now when that work had been accomplished by the Mac Oc he went to Ailill to demand Etain. "Thou shalt not obtain her," said Ailill, "until thou draw out of this land to the sea twelve great rivers that are in wells and bogs and moors, so that they may bring produce from the sea to peoples and kindreds, and drain the earth and the land."
He came again to the Ollam to bewail the strait he was in. Thereupon the latter caused twelve great waters to course towards the sea in a single night. They had not been seen there until then. Now when these works were accomplished the Mac Oc came to have speech with Ailill in order to claim Etain. "Thou shall not get her till thou purchase her, for after thou hast taken her, I shall have no profit of the maiden beyond what I shall obtain forthwith." "What dost thou require of me now?" said the Mac Oc. "I require," said Ailill, "the maiden's weight in gold and silver, for that is my portion of their price; all that thou has done up to now, the profit of it goes to her folk and her kindred." "It shall be done," said the Mac Oc. She was placed on the floor of Ailill's house, and her weight of gold and silver was given for her. That wealth was left with Ailill, and the Mac Oc brought Etain home with him.
Vidar made that company welcome. That night Etain sleeps with Vidar, and on the morrow a mantle befitting him and a chariot were given to him, and he was pleased with his foster- son. After that he abode a full year in the Brug with Aengus. On that day one year later, Vidar went to his own land, to Bri Leith, and he brought Etain with him. On that day he went from him the Mac Oc said to Vidar, "Give heed to the woman thou takest with thee, because of the dreadful cunning woman that awaits thee, with all the knowledge and skill and craft that belongs to her race," said Aengus, "also she has my word and my safeguard before the Tuatha De Danann," that is, Fuamnach wife of Vidar, of the progeny of Beothach son of Iardanel. She was wise and prudent and skilled in the knowledge and magic power of the Tuatha De Danann, for the druid Bresal had reared her until she was betrothed to Vidar.
She made her husband welcome, that is Vidar, and the woman spoke much of... to them. "Come, O Vidar," said Fuamnach, "that I may show thee my house and thy meed of land... Vidar went round his land with Fuamnach, and she showed his seizin to him and... to Etain. And after that the brought Etain again to Fuamnach. Fuamnach went before them into the sleeping chamber where she slept, and she said to Etain: "The seat of a good woman hast thou came into." When Etain sat down in the chair in the middle of the house, Fuamnach struck her with a rod of scarlet quicken tree, and she turned into a pool of water in the middle of the house; and Fuamach comes to her foster-father Bresal, and Vidar left the house to the water into which Etain had turned. After that Vidar was without a wife.
The heat of the fire and the air and the seething of the ground aided the water so that the pool that was in the middle of the house turned into a worm, and after that the worm became a purple fly. It was as big as a man's head, the comeliest in the land. Sweeter than pipes and harps and horns was the sound of her voice and the hum of her wings. Her eyes would shine like precious stones in the dark. The fragrance and the bloom of her would turn away hunger and thirst from any one around whom she would go. The spray of the drops she shed from her wings would cure all sickness and disease and plague in any one round whom she go. She used to attend Vidar and go round about his land with him, as he went. To listen to her and gaze upon her would nourish hosts in gatherings and assemblies in camps. Vidar knew that it was Etain that was in that shape, and so long as that fly was attended upon him, he never took to himself a wife, and the sight of her would nourish him. He would fall asleep with her humming, and whenever any one approached who did not love him, she would awaken him.
After a time Fuamnach came on a visit to Vidar, and along with her as sureties came the three gods of Dana, namely Lug and the Ollam, and Ogma. Vidar reproached Fuamnach exceedingly and said to her that she should not go from him were it not for the power of the sureties that had brought her. Fuamnach said that she did not repent of the deed she had done, for that she would rather do good for herself than to another, and that in whatsoever part of Ancharan she might be she would do naught but harm to Etain so long as she lived, and in whatsoever shape she might be. She brought powerful incantations and... spells from Bresal Etarlam the wizard to banish and warn off Etain from Vidar, for she knew that the purple fly that was delighting Vidar was Etain herself, for wherever he saw the scarlet fly, Vidar loved no other woman, and he found no pleasure in music or in drinking or eating when he did not see her and hear the music of her and her voice. Fuamnach stirred up a wind of assault and magic so that Etain was wafted from Bri Leith, and for seven years she could not find a summit or a tree or a hill or a height in Ancharan on which she could settle, but only rocks of the sea and the ocean waves, and she was floating through the air until seven years from that day when Erkovan and Escovan, Lords of the Winds guided her so that she lighted on the fringe on the breast of the Mac Oc as he was on the mound of the Brug.
There it was that the Mac Oc said "Welcome, Etain, wanderer careworn, thou that hast encountered great dangers through the cunning of Fuamnach. Not yet have you found, your side secure in alliance with Mider. As for me, he has found me capable of actions with hosts, the slaughter of a multitude, the clearing of wildernesses, the world's aboundance for Ailill's daughter. An idle task, for your wretched ruin has followed."
The Mac Oc made the girl welcome, that is, the purple fly, and gathered her in his bosom in the fleece of his cloak. He brought her to his house and his sun-bower with its bright windows for passing out and in, and purple raiment was put on her; and wherever he went that sun-bower was carried by the Mac Oc, and there he used to sleep every night by her side, comforting her, until her gladness and colour came to her again. And that sun-bower was filled with fragrant and wondrous herbs, and she throve on the fragrance and bloom of those goodly precious herbs.
Now Fuamnach was the daughter of Ulle, Goddess of the Sea, and she heard on the waves of the love and honour that was bestowed by the Mac Oc on Etain. Said Fuamnach to Vidar, "Let thy fosterling be summoned that I may make peace between you both, while I myself go in guest of Etain."
A messenger comes to the Mac Oc from Vidar, and he went to speak to him. Meanwhile Fuamnach came by a circuitous way until she was in the Brug, and she sent the same blast on Etain, which carried her out of her sun-bower on the very flight she had been on before for the space of seven years throughout Ancharan. The blast of wind drove her along in misery and weakness until she alit on the rooftree of a house in Ulster where folk were drinking, and she fell into the golden beaker that was before the wife of Etar, the champion from Inber Cichmaine, in the kingdom of Conchobar, so that she swallowed her with the liquid that was in the beaker, and in this wise she was conceived in her womb and became afterwards her daughter. She was called Etain daughter of Etar. Now it was a thousand and twelve years from the first begetting of Etain by Ailill until her last begetting by Etar.
Now here is a great mystery, wrapped in stories, of the passage of souls from one life to another. For the spirit of she who was elf maid passed into the spirit of mortal man, and so Etain was reborn in the western lands of Solea, and though she knew not quite herself, still, all others of the elfkind knew her.
Though Vidar had loved her, Aengus who sheltered her and had no bride loved her more and of their love and how she was finally one, I shall tell another time.”

MORE TOMORROW
 
Great to get back with this story inside the main story. I look forward to more of it. Excellent writing as usual and I look forward to more tomorrow! I hope you are having a nice week. :)
 
Well tomorrow night, I imagine we'll see more life in the Blue House and learn what Conn plans next.
 
As for what Conn had said about boldly approaching the wizard, he did not get to speak to Ekkrebeth then, for the enchanter was gone the next day, and soon temple life moved back into the swing of the last month of the year. The parades came to an end as they approached Holy Week, the Week before Annatide. Bells rang throughout the city as the devout moved to the minsters for the Vesper and the Matins services. Derek was gone more often, and Conn knew why, but he could never believe with his heart or with his body what he knew with his mind, for Derek was always his, and perhaps that was the most important thing, the truest thing, and so he knew what mattered. He and Derek and Conn and Quint and Matt would go out as a foursome, and thye would travel to Everdeen plaza on the top of Varayan Hill and stand before the large edifice of Purplekirk, and there they would see the royal procession entering the great minster for high service.
“Look, there is the King himself,” Derek noted, and they saw, riding on a great white horse, a tall old man with a long silver white beard as white as the horse itself. A golden circlet was on his head and his hair was so white it contrasted with his nut brown face, but his eyes were sharp and blue as the sky.
“And there is Prince Caedmon. Prince Cedd,” Derek said of a man with Doman blood, white skinned, black haired with a trim beard around his mouth. He was handsome enough, but he seemed haughty and unkind. A deep blue cloak was over his shoulders and an ornate sword hung down his side, barely visible from the cloak. He was bare headed save the silver circlet of a prince.
“And that one with the black hair, the girl who waves when they call out to her, that is the Princess Imogen.”
“And there he is!” Quinton said. “Prince Anson.”
He looked nothing like his brother or his sister. He was darker, almost a Royan, and yet he had the eagle bearing of his father the King. He was taller and full blooded, a true soldier, all in red, and his hair was dark bronze. There was no circlet over his hair and he rode his dark horse proudly though, when he was called out to, he gave a wave along with an ironic smile.
“None of htme have the same mother,” Derek said.
“Cedd’s mother was the old queen, Emmeline. She took ill during the Great Plague thirty years ago. That was when the Lady Essily came, the great sorceress from the Rootless Isle, and she and her sisters, Nimerly and Sanaye, delivered the land from the illness. Her sisters left when the plague was over, but Essily stayed and married the King. She is Anson’s mother.
“But the people would not accept her as Queen,” Quint said. “They called her a witch, which she was, and they critizied her for going to worship in the Grove and not in the minsters. She left with Anson and she left with her nephew, who is Akkrebeth. But years later Ekkrebeth brought Anson to the city to be raised as a prince.”
“By then the King had married his third wife,” Derek said.
“The one who gave birth to the Princess Imogen?” Conn, who knew little of royal business guessed.
“Aye,” said Derek. “But before she had Imogen, she had Hilda, who is a great lady who went north to become a nun, which is what she always wanted, and it was promised that she would be the Abbess of Great Clew.”
“And of course there is Morgellyn,” Quint said.
“Yes,” Derek said. “Morgellyn the Queen of Eassail. She is as golden as her sisters are dark and pale. The most beautiful woman you will ever see some say. And yet some guess her to be evil, and she always looked proud to me.”
“But when she left to marry King Stephen,” Quint said, “and Hilda left to be a nun, there were no other women in the court but Imogen.”
“King Anthal has outlived all of his wives.”
“All but Essily, who some say is the true Queen,” Quint said, “only, no one has seen her in over thirty years.”

Conn did not know who had discussed it or how they had decided it, but he thought that, perhaps, Matt and Quint must be something like he and Derek, moving in a sort of tandem where, very often it was hard to remember who had made what decision. Matt moved from his own narrow room beside Brian’s and on the other side of Brian’s room, the two of them helped Quint take all the possessions he had gathered over the last two years in the temple, and moved them to the fourth floor in the opposite wing from where Conn stayed. Midway through carrying their things upstairs, Brian decided he didn’t want to be left alone downstairs, so Conn joined them as, for the rest of the afternoon, they moved his things into the fourth floor suite as well.
“I told you rooms were all over this house,” was all Nialla said.
They took too large rooms, neither of which had bathrooms or kitchens, but where there was a kitchen between Lorne’s room and Cal’s, there was a small alcove with a window seat, and across the windowseat was a door that led to the same great bathroom where, on the otherside was Cal’s room.
Cal now shared his rooms with Gabriel and Sara now stayed there as well, and often Cal came across though Sara, not being a Blue and not being a man, had to walk all the way around and not cut through the restroom. No one had asked if they could make this move. No one ever did. No one even said that Matteo had gone quickly from living in the small cells to coming to a room that, usually, a Blue had to wait three years to get. He had come with two people, He had come with Quint, and that was just the way it was.
Brian continued in his amorous training. He explained that for him, and for many Blues, while they attended the classes and attended the priests in the temple, and had to go to at least one of the chanting services in the chapel every day, what he spent his days doing was exploring his sexuality and seeing what he desired as well as, often, what he did not. He had not come ot the Temple shy. He had not met one particular Blue with whom he had bonded. He had come immediately working his way through all the pleasures he could. But he knew that now that Quint was with Matteo, Quint was off limits. On the fourth floor, Brian stayed a loud night two evenings before Wheelturn with Gabriel and Cal while Sara stayed with Nialla. And then, on another night, he called Lorne to his bed. He was young, and there were few days when nothing happened at all. Sionn, Randall, Cody, and the other first years who lived in the hall across from Conn, Brian took in turn, and his face was flushed and exhilarated. As Wheelturn arrived, Conn was aware that the only one in their group, besides Quinton, that Brian had not ridden or been ridden by was Derek.
And Conn realized that he wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. Derek was discreet and gone from him in service three days a week. Anything could have happened then. And yet, Conn was not upset by this, but strangely aroused. When he heard Brian riding Cal and being railed by Gabriel in the night, or when Lorne’s heavy body returned to their room and stomped naked into the shower, and Conn knew where he had been, Conn flushed with desire and he reached for Derek. Derek had no lack of Conn’s affections.
 
That was a well done portion! Good to have more of Conn and learn about his future plans. I am glad he has Derek while also being able to explore his sexuality. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!
 
At the moment he does have Derek, but Conn's desires are exploding and soon we will see if Derek will be enough. Happy New Year.
 
Quint had been with Matteo only three days when he, himself presented Matt with a soft robe ro light blue.
“Take off your clothes and let me put it on you,” he said.
That afternoon, Matt showed up for their lunchtime looking sober in his blue, and when he was congratulated he blushed hotly. Conn rose from where he was sitting on the bed, and kissed him on both cheeks.
“I feel so foolish,” Matt confessed in a low voice. “I don’t know if I can wear this every day.”
“None of us wears it every day, Dove,” Cal said, as he tore apart the chicken on his lap and stuffed bits of it with bread into his mouth. “But you should try to wear it every day for a little bit. Maybe just for the morning, Since you’re new to things.”
“That is something most of us do,” Derek added. “Wear it a little bit for some of the day.”
“And always to chapel,” Gabriel added.
“It reminds you of who you are,” Quinton chimed in now, but he seemed more interested in the dates and the chicken he was wrapping in flat bread.
“It reminds you that you’re more than an eighteen year old with the license to get your rocks off,” Obala said simply.

When Matt had chosen to take the Blue, Quint went to Abbot Hyrum to take care of everything around that. Matteo trusted Quint to train him, and after three days of them in their private love nest, Quint said, “Luckily it was allowed and proper because, blessedly for us, making love was just part of what Blues do, but now there are other things for you.”
In the morning they worked in the kitchens rather than in the rooms or the sanctuary. Quint was a cook and Matteo a dishwasher and Matteo had the sense that some downbelow did not know they were Blues. The Temple, aside from having dependents, had employees. There was that easy friendship where everyone accepted each other with open arms, but refused to ask many questions about where someone came from or what was their business, and the kitchen was massive. They went to the kitchens every day, often looking across to each other and grinning and then, as eight o clock arrived, Quint prepared to go up to the chapel for first service.
Annatide Eve they all gatheed in the sanctuary. This was the first time Conn had seen the hall, all blue and white and filled with murals. More than the murals, the solemn hall was filled with candlelight, and as they lay the gifts one would give a small child, on the lap of the great image of Annar, they sang:


“Makriá se fátni Den ypárchei
koúnia gia kreváti O mikrós
Hannas Annas xáplose to
glykó kefáli tou

Ta astéria ston foteinó ouranó
Koítaxa ekeí pou vriskótan
O mikrós Hannas Annas
Koimátai sto sanó.”

Here, the candle light was warm, and the singing gentle. All across Kingsboro, minster bells rung steadily at midnight, and as their service ended in the sanctuary, and they wound their way out of the lit sanctuary Cal, laughing, led their group to the roof. They were not the only ones on its surface, their mouths open to catch snowflakes that fell thick and heavy, and as Conn and Matt looked out on the city, they saw all of Kingsboro covered in white.

The morning was the time for gift giving back home, but Nialla did not wait to give Conn the coat she had bought at Great Market and he gave her two bronze combs for her hair. Derek have him three wellbound journals and a set of pens.
“That’s too much.”
“Because you’re always writing,” Derek said.
And he gave him a jacket as well.
“But Derek—”
“Because it’s winter.
The next day was filled with feasting and laughing, and all the services were in the sanctuary and all attended. Once Conn looked over many heads and saw one bronze haired like him and Nialla and bronze skinned like Quint.
“It is Prince Anson,” Quinton said of the plainly dressed man.
But the Prince, despite his good looks, brought no attention to himself, and in a house full of beautiful men, he would not have.
The Temple was closed for anything but worship in the sanctuary on Annatide, but it was two days later that Quinton told Matt he would attend him in the Blue rooms.
The Blue rooms began on the first floor of the Temple and did not go past the third. They were separated from the regular sleeping rooms like a square inside of a square, and it was only by doors which opened on one side, from the resident rooms, that a Blue could cross into them. Someone coming through the Black Door essentially entered a very different Blue Temple which was built separately from most of the temple and coiled within the living space, for the Blue Temple was large, a great square of a building. The living rooms were all on the outside, so that all the priests, postulants and novices had windows to the world, but the inside space was for the rooms of visitation, which were filled with lamps, but possessed no windows. For the first time Matt entered into the tlus space and Quint simply said, “Observe, love. And come when I call you.”
He stood on his tiptoes and kissed him, and then they entered a lobby where others were sitting. Gabriel was there and so was Cal, and there were several Blues Matteo had never met. They were all in a windowed room, sitting about playing chess or reading, some of them scribbling in journals while some were frankly coming out of bathrooms naked, or coming out of hallways equally naked and rumpled, and no one seemed to care, so Matt decided not to care either.
A tall dark man with a face flat as a door came by and whispered to Quint, and Quint nodded and then gestured for Matt to follow him.
They left and went into another, smaller room and Quinton, lurching nobly stopped and, his face shining, his hands open in welcome, he called to the nervous men:
“Julius.”
The one who must have been Julius put up a nervous hand, and Matt watched Quinton take it and say, “Good morning. I hope you’re well.”
“Yes. Yes,” Julius said.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Quinton told him, rubbing his hand. “And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Alright?”
Julius nodded his head, and he and Quinton crossed to a door on the other side of that room which led to the Blue Rooms.
“Hold the door for Matt,” Quinton said to Julius. “He’s our friend.”
Julius did, smiling sheepishly, and Matt followed.
In the halls of the Blue Rooms chairs lined the walls and some doors were open to scenes of pleasure that seemed to terrify young Julius, but there were chairs and alcoves and now Quint said, “We will go into this room, see? And Matt will have a seat right here while we talk about what you want. I will leave the door open so that he might come in if we wish for him. Is that fair?”
Julius nodded and repeated. “It is fair.”

MORE TOMORROW
 
That was a well done portion! I am glad Matteo has Quinton to help and guide him in the ways of the Blue House. It seemed like it stopped just as more was going to happen so I look forward to more tomorrow and that was some great writing!
 
It did stop just as more was going to happen! I needed a scene break and couldn't find one, or it was going to be too many pages.
 
as chapter seven concludes, Matteo learns the art of being a Blue and Conn surrenders to desire.


The Blue rooms began on the first floor of the Temple and did not go past the third. They were separated from the regular sleeping rooms like a square inside of a square, and it was only by doors which opened on one side, from the resident rooms, that a Blue could cross into them. Someone coming through the Black Door essentially entered a very different Blue Temple which was built separately from most of the temple and coiled within the living space, for the Blue Temple was large, a great square of a building. The living rooms were all on the outside, so that all the priests, postulants and novices had windows to the world, but the inside space was for the rooms of visitation, which were filled with lamps, but possessed no windows. For the first time Matt entered into the tlus space and Quint simply said, “Observe, love. And come when I call you.”
He stood on his tiptoes and kissed him, and then they entered a lobby where others were sitting. Gabriel was there and so was Cal, and there were several Blues Matteo had never met. They were all in a windowed room, sitting about playing chess or reading, some of them scribbling in journals while some were frankly coming out of bathrooms naked, or coming out of hallways equally naked and rumpled, and no one seemed to care, so Matt decided not to care either.
A tall dark man with a face flat as a door came by and whispered to Quint, and Quint nodded and then gestured for Matt to follow him.
They left and went into another, smaller room and Quinton, lurching nobly stopped and, his face shining, his hands open in welcome, he called to the nervous men:
“Julius.”
The one who must have been Julius put up a nervous hand, and Matt watched Quinton take it and say, “Good morning. I hope you’re well.”
“Yes. Yes,” Julius said.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Quinton told him, rubbing his hand. “And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Alright?”
Julius nodded his head, and he and Quinton crossed to a door on the other side of that room which led to the Blue Rooms.
“Hold the door for Matt,” Quinton said to Julius. “He’s our friend.”
Julius did, smiling sheepishly, and Matt followed.
In the halls of the Blue Rooms chairs lined the walls and some doors were open to scenes of pleasure that seemed to terrify young Julius, but there were chairs and alcoves and now Quint said, “We will go into this room, see? And Matt will have a seat right here while we talk about what you want. I will leave the door open so that he might come in if we wish for him. Is that fair?”
Julius nodded and repeated. “It is fair.”
For a half hour, Matt listened to Quint sitting in a chair patiently listening to Julius stumble through his fears before, Quint finally said, gently, “Julius, here what you wish is allowed, and what you need is accepted.”
Matt stood up, and he saw Quint was also standing up. Julius was watching him in not quite goonish fascination, and when Matt caught Quinton’s eyes, Quint nodded to indicate he shold remain.
Quinton moved his robe and pulled down the briefs that clung to him, standing before Julius naked, his thick cock rising.
Julius said nothing, but went to his knees, experimentally touching Quinton’s hips, and then running his hand over his gently haired thighs until, at last, like one very thirsty, he pulled Quinton into his mouth.
Quinton moved to the bed and Matt entered the room, watching the man fumble about, watching Quinton help him. By the time they were done and the man had come to orgasm and Quinton was gently stroking his head, Matt thought he would never be jealous of anyone who came to his lover in these rooms, and the Blue room was no mystery to him. Quinton held the young man, stroking him like a mother and Matt understood what everyone meant. Desire was not enough. You could not do this without love.
And Matt learned that this was a work of desire as well, and one who did not love pleasure could not be in it. One afternoon Quinton cried out to him, and Matt entered the room to see a well made man, the man he had been looking at for some time, on top of Quinto, pounding him, sweat going down his muscled shoulders and the smooth length of his back, his buttocks flexing.
“Matteo,” Quinton’s voice came out a sigh as his face was drawn and he closed his eyes while the man fucked him.
“Hold my hand.”
And so Matt sat in the chair and held Quint’s hand and felt Quint clutching his hand tighter, each time the man slammed into him, Quinton’s eyes opened and closed in pleasure as he took the force of this man. Matteo felt himself growing hard while he watched, and finally Quinton, still being fucked, turned to the man and said, “And now what do you want.”
The man, strong and handsome, had been shy when he had come to them this morning,but now he said, his voice husky with desire, “I want your love to fuck me. I want him to fuck me while I fuck you.”
Matt’s heart raced. His penis was stiff and Quinton, still pounded reached for a bottle of oil.
“Take off your clothes,” He told Matteo. “Take of your clothes and join in.”

In the evening the only one Matt felt he could share this morning with was Conn. It was true he was a novice now and so was Brian, but he was close to Conn and he said, as they were alone on the rooftop over the white city:
“And I felt no shame. Just a soaring sense of… understanding.”
“Thank you,” Conn said.
“What?” Matt looked at his friend, starled.
“I am starting to understand too.”
Matt looked confused, but Conn said, “Thank you.”
The next day Derek was due for service in the sanctuary. It was three days after the new year, when the bright whiteness of Annatide became the stark grey white of true winter, when you stayed in bed as long as you could. Every Monday and Tuesday and Friday Derek was gone for service in the sanctuary and every Friday, Conn lay in the bed beside Lorne, like he was the pet dog. But all that month, desire had been rising in him, and that morning, Lorne’s body was hot like a stone, but it always was, and that morning he reached for him, ran his hands experientally over Lorne’s back.
Lorne laughed gently and said, “Little Conn, I thought you’d never wake to me.”
But Conn’s dick was so hard it hurt, and he whispered, “Well, I’m awake now.”
Lorne turned around and grinned at him and moved the covers from his large body. His own penis was fat and stiff like a barrel and his thighs wide as bull legs.
Lazily he reached behind him for the tub of oil and he placed it on the bed between them. He took out the bottle of sniffings which sometimes people used and said, “Then learn your will, lover. Learn your will.”
In the hot darkness of that early morning, Conn rode Lorne into the sunrise, and Lorne laughed as he pressed his hands down on Conn’s ass and Conn shouted like one scorched as, veins standing in his neck, face lifted to the ceiling, he gathered up speed and, cloaked in fire, clenched his teeth to hold in the shout he could not repress as over and over again, with a body jerking force, he spurted inside Lorne.


MORE TOMORROW
 
That was a very interesting and sexy portion! I am glad Conn and Matteo are finding their place in the Blue House and exploring with others. Those two are my favourite characters so far. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!
 
I love that you said that. I had feared they might be eclipsed, and I adore Matteo. Have a wonderful evening. Our inter web is being tricky so I may not be able to talk later.
 
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