lanselos_du_lac

"Ay--there are many things to like in it," says Laertes. "There's an art to tying knots well, so that they'll bind without sapping the blood or chafing the skin. But more than that, there's an art of adornment in it, too; one lover likes to wind ropes as though they're the finest of jewelry, and the patterns that they make across the skin are beautiful in themselves, in a way that need not heat the blood. That skill alone is worth admiring, and it's one I've yet to master." His smile shades warmer, fonder, as he moves from abstraction to specific memories. "And there is a kind of joy--a release, I should say--in being bound. Nothing can be expected of thee but thy pleasure and thine endurance. There is no escape from thy lover's affections; there can be no room for doubt. Thou canst only be, and yet thou art enough."