A memories of Myst and Uru Blog

Some of my memories of the games, and the events. Disclaimer: All of these posts are simply my recollections, and my imagination. Nothing here should be construed as fact. All copyrights of Myst, Uru, and any other intellectual properties pertaining to Cyan Worlds Inc. should be respected.

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Location: Gatineau, Quebec, Canada

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Friday, December 08, 2006

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Continued from Chapter 4

Lesley awakes from a sound sleep and as her mind traces back over the day and night before, she blushes a deep pink at the private thoughts, that she shared with you, late at night. She wonders what magic you have to draw that story out of her. "Why did I tell him so much? God you are so stupid!" she mutters, as she lays there. Shaking off the feeling of being too stupidly emotional, she arises from her bed and gets dressed. Poking her head into your room, she finds you still sleeping, after a restless night. Your ankle has been throbbing off and on all night. It's a bad sprain which wasn't helped by walking on it, back to the Cleft. She makes the tea and porridge, this morning, for breakfast, assuming that's what you'll want.

When you awake, you groan at the pain in your ankle. "Oh god, my ankle hurts. Ouch!" you say as you test it. It just throbs in pain. You swing your feet out of bed. and set them on the floor. You carefully slip off your pyjamas. Then you grab your jeans and awkwardly get them pulled up while lying down. It's not easy to do. Then, carefully and slowly, you hobble your way, wincing at each step, to the kitchen. She is humming to herself as she is sweeping the floor. "Having fun, are you?" you say to her, with a smile, as she looks up. She blushes prettily at your presence and replies, "Yes, I felt I should help a bit since you're hurt. How's the ankle feel this morning?"

"It's quite sore, actually and I think I need to be waited on today," you reply, with a laugh. You sink into the kitchen chair, with a heavy sigh. Walking over, she takes off the pressure bandage and looks at it.

"It's still very swollen and see here?" She indicates a blue, black area on your ankle on the outside. "That's bleeding under the skin because of tearing of the tissues." Getting some fresh ice from the freezer, she soon has it in a bag, and plops it on your ankle. Then she gets you a mug of hot tea and a bowl of porridge. It's a nice treat for you to be waited on again. You sit and enjoy your breakfast, watching her. She continues sweeping and humming gently. A quiet companionable silence is present. The wind gently rustles the grasses. Inside, she's smiling, thinking, "wow, I don't feel so stupid in front of him now. I think I did the right thing, maybe, by telling him my story." The sight of you sitting there, with your bare chest, is more appealing than ever, this morning, to her.

As you sit and sip your tea, you break the silence. "About last night." you start to say, and Lesley blushes. She stops sweeping and looks at you.

"Thanks for being there to talk to," she blurts out, in a rush. "It was nice to have your listening ear."

"I'm glad that you felt comfortable enough to share the details with me," you reply, grinning at her. "Despite the pain you feel, there is some hope, isn't there, when you share it with a caring person, isn't there?" You continue to look at her.

"Mm, yes, definitely feeling better this morning about it all," she says, leaning on the broom. "Amazing how that works, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is amazing how sharing of your pain does lessen it, somehow." You nod your head. There is a short silence between you.

"I thought of you as I was laying in bed after our talk," she blurts out, spilling out the words on her mind. She's staring at you.

"Yes, I thought of you too, as I was laying there. How such a beautiful woman has come into my life and who shares her private thoughts with me." Then you wink at her, thinking she's looking so good today. She's in a t-shirt and jean cut-off shorts with bare feet. Her curves seem especially delicious this morning, as your mind thinks back to the previous night's thoughts, about you and her, together. As a result, your body begins to betray you. It's an embarrassment for you to realize that the way you're sitting, facing her, she can see it. You make an effort to stand up to detract attention. But she comes towards you, wanting to help you, as you stand. She doesn't want you to stand on your ankle unnecessarily.

As she is there, beside you, touching your bare arm, you blurt out, "Oh Lesley, I think you're pretty cute this morning." The words tumble from your mouth, coming out of their own accord. You are surprised to realize that you've spoken the thought aloud.

"Mm, I think I could say the same thing about you, Gareth," she says, laughing out loud at feeling the effervescence of a young love between you two. It's a bubbly, exciting feeling that she's not felt so strongly before and it feels good. "I think I'm starting to care about you a lot, Gareth." Her hand reaches up to your face at that point, and her palm is warm against your cheek. You turn towards her. Your hands go to her hips and her hands sit upon your bare shoulders. Your lips meet and it's a lovers kiss you share. A deep, passionate, lips tasting each other, kiss, that shakes you to the core. A deep river there. With your mouths fused together it is like a current between you. She steps back, shaken by this deep stirring within her. Her hands just want to scratch your chest and dig into you. Pulling you closer. "Wow, that was some kiss," she whispers, too shy to look at you. You, too, feel this deep, passionate longing that she has. A feeling of wanting to strip her naked, and make love to her like you've not done for ages, with a woman. Your body is betraying you even more now. Eagerly wanting this woman.

"I think we had better stop this before we go too far," you say, in a serious tone, with a smile upon your lips. "I'd not want to do anything to upset you." She smiles shakily. She's happy in one sense but inside she's saying to herself "Oh, how I want him, I want Gareth to take me and make me his." She knows, however, that it's not a wise course to push ahead with. It's too early, she feels. Not quite there yet. She wants to know more about you. She changes the subject by asking if you'd like more tea. She's trying to lower the heat of the moment. There is a real tension in the air, between you two. One gesture by one of you would start something. You have to consciously turn away, and sit down again, and get your heart rate back to normal. It is an embarrassing moment for you as you realize just how ready you were. She brings you another tea and then goes outside, to the ledge, and stands in the sunshine. You're glad of the physical break from her presence. You're saying "oh come on, get a grip of yourself. One kiss and you're ready to jump on her? Give me a break."

After a little while, she comes in and asks if you'd like some ice for your ankle, to reduce the swelling. You agree that would be wise. As she fills the plastic bag again, you watch her. She's aware, more than ever now, of you. After plopping the bag of ice on your ankle she leaves. Returning with your father's notes in the leather bag, she says, "Here, Gareth, I thought you may like to see these."

"Oh, thank you Lesley! Yes, that's a good thing for me to occupy my time with today." As you get to work studying your father's notes, she goes off to her room. She sits and thinks about you for a while. Writing in her diary, for a short while, helps her mind, as well.

For the rest of that day she doesn't bother you with questions, sensing that you're not ready to talk in detail. You're still in the dark, yourself, as you study the notes. She helps with icing your ankle again, elevating it, and having the pressure bandage on, and off. Between the two of you, you keep the conversation on a polite level. However, both of you feel this deep, dark pull towards each other as an undercurrent to the light, bantering, conversational tone you adopt. It's as though still waters run deep and strong between you. She finds herself daydreaming, a few times, about that kiss. Seeing, in her mind's eye, her hands running through your chest hair and imagining herself digging her fingers into your back and pulling you to her. She wants to feel your body against hers. "How lovely it was to sit on his bed last night," she thinks. She hears you play the guitar, as she leans against the Cleft wall, staring at the sky. She is feeling a deep content, finally, within her.

That night, after you've bid each other a good night, you are the one who is finding sleep elusive. "How can I not care for Lesley?" you ask yourself. It's a question without an answer, as you stare at the sky. You stand at the door of your room, gazing up at the moon, in the night sky. It dulls the stars this night. A full moon. Your hand strokes your beard absently, as you are deep in thought. Your thoughts are touching on the exploration of the cave. How it will have to remain undiscovered further, until your ankle is better, from the nasty sprain. You try to keep your mind off Lesley and her curves but it's an impossible task. Your mind goes back to the kiss you shared this morning. Your lips recall it. She appears in front of you, as though an apparition summoned up from your memories. She's got her pyjamas on.

"Hello," you say, a bit startled, at first, at her appearance.

She blurts out "I can't sleep with this on my mind. Gareth, I can't stop thinking about you and us and that kiss and." You reach for her, cutting off her words mid-sentence and you hug her in tightly to you. It's more an instinctive reaction than a thought. Her body is so soft and warm up against yours. Just fits in so nicely, you feel. Your arms are around her and her arms hug you around your middle, fingers digging into your back.

"I know, don't you think I feel the same way?" you say, gently chiding her. She laughs, self consciously. You kiss her then, again, deeply, without reservation, your hunger for her, like a naked flame, in front of her. She bends in your hands like a supple twig, leaning back against the pressure of your body against hers. Your lips meet hers. It is a very deep, passionate kiss. Nothing left behind. Two mouths fused onto each other. Each, equally giving to the other. A shared heat. Then you nibble her lips, and then kiss down the side of her neck. You want to go farther. It is such pleasure for her to feel your lips there. Her skin feels so lovely and soft under your lips.Your hands cup her bum, pulling her to you tightly. She can feel your body and the excitement you are feeling at her being so close. The air, between you two, is electric with the tension. Suddenly, you push her away from you, and turn, and move, limping on your sore ankle, a short distance away, with your back to her. She feels empty without you in her arms.

"Why did you let me go?" she asks, forlorn sounding. She feels empty, without you to hold, and without your arms around her. She wraps her arms around herself.

"I'm not ready for this, this passion, that I feel between us," you say, with reservations. You don't want to talk about it, as though, by not speaking of it, maybe it'll just go away of its own volition. But you also know, that now, she feels the same way you do, and it won't be going away on its own. It'll have to be faced. "There are things that you still don't know about me, and I'd not feel good about doing this before you know more about me," you continue. You wave your hand at the bed, conveying what you mean, without words. She walks over to face you and looks deep in your eyes. She reaches out to your hands and holds them in hers, tightly.

"I don't really care what you'll tell me Gareth," she says, shyly. Yet, she's bold, as well, by placing a hand upon your cheek, gently. "I do know that I've come to care very deeply for you and I'd want you to be the first." She blushes deeply, and looks down. You feel lost, and bewildered, at this declaration of hers. It's more than you wanted to know but now that it's out, you can't go back, either. You know you can't go putting the genie back into the bottle now that it's out. Now that you've both said these things, to each other, they hang there, in the air, open.

"I know Lesley, but I can't, I just can't do this to you," you admit to her, wanting to be honest. In all honesty you'd love to take her at her word and make love to this beautiful woman who is offering herself to you. You admire her for her courage, in fact. But you know that she may regret it in the morning. You kiss her hand at this point, loving the feeling of her soft, warm hand on your face. You want to pull her into your arms so badly. "I'm sorry but, really, truly, I'm a lot more than I've told you, and I want some time to gather my thoughts together. So, that is why I'm not going to tell you any more tonight. Please just accept that, from me, okay? I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you. " You turn away from her, although it's very hard to do. Her hand falls as you turn away. Her face echoes the pain in her heart. "Well, I'm sorry but I do think we should try and get some sleep tonight. We'll talk again in the morning, I promise. I'll tell you all my story then, okay?" With this declaration, Lesley gets the message quite clearly that to go ahead would be foolish. She has a quick vision of stripping off her pyjamas in front of you and offering herself, but quickly dismisses that idea. She looks you in the eye and then she reaches up. Kissing you on the lips again, quickly and deliberately, she says good night. The taste of her lips is like sweet honey to you. You want more of her. But you let her go. It's lonely in the room once she's gone.

After a short while, you settle down in your bed, thinking of Lesley. Her face as she blushed, her face as you kissed her. The memory is so fresh and appealing to you. "I should tell her all the story and then let her decide what to do," you say to yourself, then fall asleep, exhausted, from the thoughts circulating in your head.

She climbs into bed, after leaving you, and she cries. Sobbing, she knows she wants you but she doesn't want to throw herself at you. But, caring for you, wanting you so much. She curls herself into a ball and then sleeps, tears on her cheeks.

"Dear Lesley, how did you sleep?" is your first question to her, the next morning. You woke up, remembered your promise to her, pulled on your jeans and made your way, slowly, to the kitchen. Again, she's up before you. She's taken the initiative to make porridge and tea, once again, for breakfast, assuming that's what you'd want. She's not yet eaten, because she decided to wait for you.

"Not well, how about you?" she asks. It's a friendly question and she's grinning at you. You are happy to see she doesn't seem to have suffered any ill effects from you gently, but firmly, turning her away the previous evening. The last thing you wanted to do, was to hurt her, or make her sad. You hoped that you'd treated her in the right way, and feel happy to see that, so far, it seems to be that way.

"Well, after some thoughts about yesterday, and what we said to each other, then I slept well," you say to her. She smiles.

"Yes, we were honest with each other last night, weren't we? It's nice to be honest with ourselves. She turns and dishes out the porridge for breakfast. You regard her as she does this task. Again, she's in jean cutoffs and a t-shirt with bare feet. A very appealing view to you on this fine, sunny morning. Your heart swells with caring for her. The curve of her hips is such a lovely vision too, the way they fill out her shorts.

You decide to plunge right into your story, without wasting any time. "Lesley, I'm going to tell you my story now, then you can make up your mind to stay or to go. My father was a scientist, and he was investigating time travel according to his notes. He discovered a way to make a linking book with another age. I think he may have been killed because of that knowledge. That's what worries me." The words tumble out of your mouth, as though getting them out fast enough was an issue. "I knew this before, because he'd taught me from a young age how to write a linking book. I can use his books to link with a Relto or a refuge area, if you'd understand that term better. I can do time travel as well. I've kept the knowledge to myself for many years. My grandmother taught me many things as well." As the words spill out, Lesley is standing, in awe of the story you are telling her. It's captivating her like nothing else. She wordlessly puts the bowls of steaming porridge on the table.

Then she interjects your stream of words with a simple question "How do you time-travel?"

You're nonplussed by the question for a minute, then reply, "Well, it's a molecular thing where you place your hand on a linking book picture and get transported to that place. It's really rather hard to explain any farther." She stands there, awestruck, as you continue explaining about the linking books. You pause in the flow of words and then ask her "Have I scared you away for good?" She smiles and reaches out for your hand and gives it a squeeze.

"If you think that was enough to scare me away, well, then you don't know me very well!" she replies. You smile in reply and breathe a huge sigh of relief. You had a feeling she'd be okay with the idea but even still, with it out in the open, you feel better. She's curious about the connection with your father. "Why do you think your father was killed for his knowledge?" she asks.

"Well, he discovered an ancient civilization, built by some people called the "D'ni", and had taken me there a few times. I've been there myself, quite a few times. I'm afraid that some people may get their hands on the linking books, and use them for unscrupulous means."

"Ah I see," Lesley replied, not really understanding about the D'ni reference, but trusting you to explain it farther to her.

"The D'ni were an ancient race of people, and their civilization crumpled from within, although a massive earthquake helped to destroy their city, as well. I've been exploring their ancient ruins, on a regular basis." You're warming to the idea, now, to share everything, with her. Since she's shown interest in your theories, and you've got your foot in the door, it feels right to continue with the story. "They believed that there was no true God. Instead their rulers were divine kings who could do no wrong. But their society crumbled when, of course, the kings showed themselves to be all too human. It was greed and avarice that made their civilization crumble. The proud couldn't withstand the least. The masses rose up and revolted against the last king and beheaded him. King Kadish was his name. He left a fortune locked up in a tomb in which he died. That's what I'm afraid will get stolen. You remember what happened with the Egyptian pharaohs and how their tombs were plundered. More of the natural human instinct to take what's not yours, at work." As you talk, Lesley sits and listens in rapt attention, thrilled at the secrets you're revealing to her.

"Gareth, why are you telling me so much? Aren't you worried that I may be eager to get my hands on this fortune as well?"

"For some reason, Lesley, I trust you. I may be a fool for that, only time will tell, but somehow, I know you won't betray it." You smile broadly after saying that. She's smiling back at you.

"You're correct in your assumption and I feel honoured with your trust in me." With that, Lesley gets up and gets the milk and sugar for the porridge. It's quiet for a time in the Cleft while you consume your breakfast. Sipping your tea afterwards, you ponder why you did mention it all to Lesley. She's got her back turned to you as she does the dishes.

"Where do you keep the linking books?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"In a locked chest in my room at the end of the bed. That way, they are safe from prying eyes." Your face has a wry grin on it. "My father left some of the linking books with my grandmother by accident. I've learned a lot from those books. His notes explained more of his actions, than I knew before, as well. I don't hate him as much as I did. I do believe he did intend to come back and at least get me again." You leave it there, content with what you've said.

"Oh really?" she says, surprised to hear you not speak of your father with disdain, like before.

"Yes, I think he wanted me with him, for the extra hands, to write linking books." You nod your head for emphasis. She looks thoughtful. The subject hangs there, in the air, between you, then you continue with, "I'll never really know what his plans were and at this point, I'm just content to have his papers to read. I'll read them again, at some point, and maybe learning something new. But for now, it's finished, in my mind." With that, she senses a curtain closing in your mind, on the subject, and there is silence.

"How's the ankle feeling today?" she says, changing the subject.

"Mm, it's getting better I'd say. I can put some weight on it now." You hobble over to her to prove your point. But it's still painful to walk on and you settle down in the chair again, with a sigh of relief.

"You shouldn't be walking on it," she gently chides you, as she walks towards you. You smile at her, liking the fact that she cares about you. "Here, let me have a look at it." She unwraps the bandage around your ankle, and sits with it propped, on her lap. "Let's put some ice on it first, for a few minutes, to take down the swelling and then I'll massage it after that." She gets up and carefully places your foot on her chair. She gets the ice, and again, puts it in the bag. Dropping it on your ankle, she then asks if you'd like more tea.

"Yes, please," you say, handing your cup over, with a smile. She willingly gets your tea. "Lovely to have a servant here, for my needs," you say, gently teasing her. She laughs out loud.

"Well, it's nice to know somebody wants me," she fires out, as a parting shot, before she heads out into the sunshine. You sit there, thinking of her, last night, offering herself to you. How much you wanted to make love to her. Similarly, as she stands there, sipping her tea, her mind is running over the previous evening.

After she's done her tea, she comes back into the kitchen. After depositing her cup in the sink, she comes over to you. "Okay, that should be enough ice, for now. Let's have a look at it." She has a look at your ankle. "I'll massage it again and hopefully that'll take down a bit of the swelling," she says. Her hands softly, and firmly massage your ankle. You sit back watching her hands on your ankle. Her touch feels very good to you.

"You've got a very soothing touch, you know," you say softly, to her. There is a pregnant pause in the air, a definite feeling of connection between you two, not just physically with her hands upon your ankle, but a touching of the minds, the souls, of each other. She stops and looks at you.

"How do you do that?" she asks, in a husky voice. "How do you make me want you so bad? What is it about you that just makes me go all mushy and soft inside? Why do I want your hands on me? Why do I want to run my hands through your hair and growl in your ear? I've never felt this before." She shrugs her shoulders, her face blushing, but steadily holding your gaze.

"I don't know what it is Lesley," you reply, holding her gaze. It is magnetic, the pull between you. She puts down your foot. off her lap gently. She stands and comes closer to you sitting down. You stand up beside her. Your bodies close together and arms go around each other to pull close. Your lips meet hers. Such wonderful deep kisses. Mouths open. There is no stopping the natural urge of both of you wanting to be closer to the other. It's not really a conscious action on your part but a natural one of wanting her and realizing that's what she is indicating too.As your lips leave hers, she moans, "Oh Gareth, I want you." Her hands roam your body. Her fingers dig into your back, pulling you into her. Your hands cup her bum. The kissing gets deeper and more passionate as lips return to each other. Your hand finds her breast and touches it roughly.

You pause, your hands upon her body, feeling her heart beat as though it was your own. "Lesley, I think that you know where this is going if we don't stop it. Do you want it?" You look deep into her eyes. You're both panting slightly, mouths apart, feeling this urgent passion between you. She looks you back square in the eyes, gaze unwavering. There is no doubt in her eyes.

"Yes, Gareth, I know where you want to take me and yes, I want it. Come with me. Lean on me." She supports you as you hobble together, to your room. Your ankle throbs as you walk, reminding you of its injury. As you enter your room, she turns to you and takes your face in her hands. "Make love to me, Gareth. Make me feel wonderful," she commands, then kisses your lips deeply, hungrily, as though she can't get enough of you. You respond willingly, a participant in this most pleasant of pursuits. Your hands undo her shorts, slipping them off. She steps out of them, hungrily reaching for your mouth again. Her fingers eagerly find your button on your waistband and undoes it. The rest of the clothes soon follow and you pull her down to the bed beside you. A sweet time for both of you.

Continued in Chapter 6


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