<div class="floatright">(http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk8/hornerjs82/wizazystka_wroclaw_37-1-1.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>Name:</strong> <em>Leila 'Haversham'</em><br/><strong>Age:</strong> Eighteen<br/><strong>Position:</strong> Harem Girl<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong> Anyone</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>Music Inspiration(for fun):</strong></span><em><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Habibi(Sawah) - Ishtar (Alabina)</span></em>(http://youtu.be/me1EAmxfoLw)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>Location:</strong> Day Room, Chosen ...</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>Notes:</strong> <em>New to the Harem, untouched; Selected by the Sultan.</em></span><br/><br/><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br/><br/>Leila first eyed the woman called Mira from beneath her long lashes, nervously - trying very hard not to display it.  A tiny smile curved on her lips as she noticed the Sultan smile warmly.  Her cheekbones coloured softly in reply to his gentle manner.  She bent her head, dark hair falling forward for a moment until she very briefly raised her eyes to look in the direction of the man.  He was garbed in flowing robes - the colour dark that one could easily have called beautiful.  An attractive face - and not so old, she noticed with those very blue eyes of hers that always seemed brighter as a result of her soft brown skin.  A shiver rocked her slightly as the words he'd spoken penetrated the fog in her thoughts.  Oh ... oh.  He would have her, with the other pretty, hazel eyed woman.  Her cheeks turned further pink while her nipples tightened likely in some degree of being watched - and as well being unclothed and outside.  <br/><br/>She wanted to say something in reply, yet she had not been given leave to speak - precisely.  Was his speaking to her leave?  It was difficult to say - and so many rules swirled like a cloud in her thoughts.  Finally, she decided that a beautifully worded thank you would be wise ... it seemed rude to her not to give some notice to the Sultan's choice.  He could have easily have chosen another, and not her.  The blue eyes flicked up again, ever so briefly, also to surreptitiously regard the General Darius, whom ... frightened her a little.  Such dark, muscled skin he had, and seemed a powerful man.  Leila swallowed, pressing her lips together in a line of thoughtfulness.<br/><br/>Bowing her head, she spoke softly - the likely pleasing yet soft accents of her voice standing out among so many that sounded more like each other than different.<br/><br/><em>"Oh Most High Sultan, you give honour to me - one that is insignificant before your own perfection - that the sharpest sword touched by softest benedictions, and jasmine watered by your own pools would not hold as much charm and deadly beauty as your royal self."</em> <br/><br/>She prayed that she had not done incorrectly.</span>