[RiddleRose]: 298.Gold Dust - NaNoWriMo '07.Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen.

Wren was asleep. He knew he was asleep too. That was odd. He was asleep, and he was dreaming. There was someone there with him, but he didn't know who it was. It was someone who was ambivalent towards him. That is, they didn't like him, and they didn't dislike him. He got the vague impression of femaleness, and reached out for a quick grope. For some reason he was completely aware that this was acceptable.

The grope was very satisfying, and Wren knew this, even though, when he thought about it, he couldn't think of whether he had actually touched someone or not. The female person thought it was satisfying too, and definitely wanted him to do more, but Wren was a little worried. Visions of succubi and temptresses danced through his head like plum puddings. They actually danced too. That sort of thing happens in dreams.

In his fuzzy dream logic, Wren thought that maybe sexing a succubus wouldn't be so bad. After all, it was only a dream. And by all accounts succubi were very sexable. But he was still worried. He thought maybe that wouldn't be appropriate. He wasn't really sure why this was. He wasn't sure of a lot of things. It was hard not being able to see who he was groping.

Then, in the way that dreams do, the dream was simply gone, and in it's place was a lovely sea scape. There were some mountains in the distance, and he could see what definitely looked like a cave. The cave looked like the sort that there might be treasure in. he was in a rowboat, with an enormous wide brimmed hat on his head. This reminded him of something, but he couldn't think what. 

He began to row towards the cave, accompanied by three dolphins. The dolphins kept giving him advice, and telling him to watch out for those reefs ahead, and not to crash into the whale there. He eventually got so sick of them that he yelled, “I don't need a goddamn side rowboat driver! You wanna steer? Fuckin' steer!”. The dolphins immediately began towing the rowboat at a much faster pace than Wren had been rowing at. Wren sat back and enjoyed the scent of lilacs. 

A mermaid surfaced beside him. She had long dark hair, and looked remarkably like Livia. She began to sing and dance in the water beside the dolphins, and Wren was mesmerized by her hair. He was somehow not even aware of whether she was topless or not. Legend had it that she would be, but Wren couldn't tell. It was her hair that captivated him, the long floating tresses swirling and sparkling just out of reach...

But now he was at the cave, and both she and the dolphins had gone somehow. He had a brief moment of longing for her, but then he was distracted by the promising dark brininess of the cave. He got out of the boat and tied it to a convenient pillar. 

Suddenly the cave was lit from inside. Farther on, the light of seven large crystal chandeliers was shining out, and exotic music played. Wren walked slowly towards the light, something crunching under his feet. When he looked down there were gemstones being ground to powder there. 

As he walked, the walls of the cave became lined with silken tapestries, and draperies covered the rough stone walls. Wren could smell something I the air, some perfume. It reminded him of sun, and sand, and maybe really really sexy women. It was a smell that was made to excite, and he quickened his steps until he was practically running towards the music and the chandeliers. He could feel the beat of the drum right below his ribs, and he was definitely getting closer.

There were mirrors on the walls, refracting the light in strange ways. Wren was going too fast to see himself, but he somehow got the impression of long robes, silk, brocade, and thread of gold. There were bells somewhere too, bells of crystal and gold. He could feel the beat of the drum urging him on.

He slowed, gasping, clutching his side. The light was further off than it had seemed at first. He walked the rest of the way, pacing himself, though the drum urged him on, and the musky hot scent in the air teased him until he had to clench his fists to control himself. He still didn't know what he would find. The tapestries grew thicker, the mirrors more bright. The bells tinkled faintly in the distance.

The tapestries were embroidered, though with what Wren couldn't see. He could tell there were people in some, animals in others, and water in others. He stopped in front of one though. There was a woman in this one, standing beneath a tree. A serpent was twining around her, and she was clearly in ecstasy. An apple lay forgotten on the ground.

The tapestry was part of a series. Wren walked slowly along it, for some reason fascinated. He felt like he recognized the woman, though he couldn't think who it was. She had long, dark, rippling, hair, but he could rarely see her face. It was nearly always blocked by either the serpent, or a spray of leaves. The embroidery was so skillfully done that he could practically see them moving together. It was almost a dance, a primal, sensual dance, of serpent and woman.

He thought briefly of Eve in the garden, but this was clearly not her. This woman was too real, there was nothing symbolic to her. Or if there was, it was certainly not about the woman falling to temptation. Looking at the pictures, Wren got the distinct feeling that it was the serpent who had been tempted and fallen. He noticed that the apple had a bite out of it, but he didn't know who had taken the bite, the serpent or the woman.

The tree was growing, he noticed, from the top of a hill, in the middle of a desert. It was a gnarled tree, and in its branches sat a man, a young man. He was watching the snake and the woman, and smiling. He was naked, but not aroused, despite the fact that a woman was orgasming under the very tree he was in. As soon as Wren noticed him, he realized that this was the person who had bitten the apple, it hadn't been the woman or the serpent.

He had bitten the apple, and then tossed it carelessly away. He watched, but was not ashamed. He was, Wren somehow knew, not invisible to the woman, but unimportant at the moment. Perhaps he was the tempter after all, and not the woman. Or perhaps none of them had tempted the others, but they had all been tempted by the apple. Perhaps the woman was not in ecstasy, but in pain, and the serpent was merely trying to crush the life out of her in his pursuit of the apple.

But it was too late for the serpent in that case, for the man in the tree had already bitten the apple. It was on the ground, and in the next tapestry it was gone, covered by the shifting sands of the desert. In the end, there was no serpent, and there was no woman. They were somewhere else, perhaps dead, perhaps merely gone. The man was alone, still smiling his secret smile, naked and impervious in the tree.

Wren came to the end of the tapestries. Here was a door. It was old, made of oak, pitted and cracked with age. It was bound with iron, and when he opened it, it led nowhere. The nowhere tugged at Wren. It wanted him. He pulled himself away, and closed the door hastily. The lights were very very close now. He could see shadows, moving sinuously past the doorway. There were strands of gems, glass beads, and shells across the doorway. Wren pushed them aside, then pushed aside the silken scarves that fell across his eyes from somewhere. 

A shower of gold dust fell and coated him so that he shimmered with it. He walked through it, and into- somewhere. The walls were draped with silks and brocades. Red and gold patterns swirled in them, while rubies twinkled in the light of the crystal chandeliers. The light was refracted and colored by the crystals, which split it into rainbows, and threw it every which way. Wren could feel thick rugs under his bare feet, and the music twined through the air. It tugged at him, the drums told him to dance, the wailing pipes and flutes told him to twist and slide through the scent heavy air. 

There were figures in the room. He could hear water, a fountain, tinkling somewhere, and he made his way towards it, sliding and ducking through the air. Simply walking didn't work, he had to dance his way there. He could see the silhouettes of women dancing in the light, but it was strange, and colourful, and he could not make out details. 

The waterfall came into view first as rippling light being thrown onto the ceiling, to be further distorted by the gently waving silk drapery. In the pool at its base there were women clad only in transparent silk, dancing, and swimming. Along the side, more women sported at the water's edge, becoming wetter and wetter as they splashed. They were all clad only in the smallest drapes of silk, like something out of the Arabian Nights.

As he walked closer, he became aware of a sort of dais, out in the center of the room. It was from this dais that the scent and the bells were coming from. Wren could not see what was on it, so he slid his slinky way closer. As he went, he was aware of more women, clad similarly to the girls in the water. These were dancing, singing, twining themselves around anything that could be twined around, including Wren. 

At some point the music became less insistent, and he was able to walk more normally, though the women continued to dance. He walked toward the dais in a sort of haze, caused by the atmosphere of the place. And now there were men too, young men, either naked or clad only in a short skirt made of some sort of enameled leather. Their dances were sharper, more to the drums than the pipes and flutes. They danced sometimes with the women, sometimes with each other.

Wren noticed that all of them, the women and the men, were extraordinarily beautiful. As he got closer to the dais, they got more and more beautiful, and now some of them were decorated. This woman was dusted with gold, and rubies glinted in her hair, and on her ankles. This man had gold frosted hair, and a collar of jet black stones around his neck. This woman and man were opposites, she with gold frosted hair, and rubies in her ears and nose, he with jet in his hair, and shimmering golden skin. They danced together like mirrors.

Here was a woman who was hung from head to toe with mirrors. Tiny tiny mirrors, that reflected the light from a thousand different places, and made her look like water moving in human form. Here, a man in jet, looking like a panther with his movements. Here, a man and a woman entirely gold, with rubies set at the ends of their long braids, and crystal bells on their ankles.

The decorations got more and more elaborate and dizzying as Wren came closer and closer to the dais. The dancing got more stylized, but also wilder, and the music became more insistent again. Wren could almost see the top of the dais now. He got the impression of lights in water, but they were not candles. There were cushions and rugs piled high in a long couch, or lounge of some sort. On them, and man reclined. 

Wren came closer, for his eyes were strangely blurred, or blocked. He saw the man on the cushions. He was naked, but for his jewelry. Rubies winked in his hair, and one in his nose. Red stones were twinkling from his fingers, and an elaborate gold collar was around his neck. His hair and eyelashes were frosted with gold, and a gold armband clasped his upper arm. 

Wren saw that sometimes this man was a man, and sometimes he was a serpent, some kind of snake. He was perhaps the king of snakes, but he was also a man. He did not become a serpent sometimes, and a man other times, he was both at once. Wren rubbed his eyes, and let that sink in. 

There was a woman twined around the man/serpent, constantly moving, but he barely noticed her. She did as she willed, her long dark hair falling across him, and masking some of his nakedness. He beckoned to Wren, and Wren came forward, afraid suddenly, and not afraid. He sat where the man/serpent directed him to sit, and took the bowl that was offered to him by one of the women. It was filled with what looked like ink.

Wren looked at the serpent/man, puzzled. The man gestured that he look into the bowl. Wren did so, but saw nothing. He shrugged, and set the bowl down, careful not to spill it. The man/serpent was frustrated. As if reflecting his mood, the dancers became jerkier, their movements sharp and conflicting. The music lost some of it's sensuous appeal, and became a little more jarring. Wren noticed suddenly, a man sitting in a shadow behind the serpent/man.

The man was wearing dark leather, and just sitting there. He was unobserved, but observant. When he saw Wren looking, he winked, and nodded toward the bowl. Wren felt a sudden rush of friendship towards this man, as if he recognized him. He grinned, suddenly happy, and looked into the ink. 

In the ink, he saw-

And then Wren woke up.