#100318

[storelatina]

Earache in a baby: symptoms and remedies - https://storelatina.com/?p=100318

[sug1pi]

https://www.schooluniguide.com/uk/school/bayonne-nursery-school-100318

[ateezdata]

ATEEZ Official Twitter Update

[#Yunho/#Mingi] Oh god, there’s only just two people who are unlikable…….

translation credit: ateezlight from Twitter

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

I stood quite still on the threshold, blinking. My meditations on the protocol of Royal disrobing faded into sheer astonishment.

The room was quite dark, lit only by numerous tiny oil-lamps, set in groups of five in alcoves in the wall of the chamber. The room itself was round, and so was the huge table that stood in its center, the dark wood gleaming with pinpoint reflections. There were people sitting at the table, no more than hunched dark blurs against the blackness of the room.

There was a murmur at my entrance, quickly stilled at the King’s appearance. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the murk, I realized with a sense of shock that the people seated at the table wore hoods; the nearest man turned toward me, and I caught the faint gleam of eyes through holes in the velvet. It looked like a convention of hangmen.

…

“We have heard of your great skill, Madame, and your…reputation.” Louis smiled, but there was a tinge of caution in his eyes as he looked at me, as though not quite certain what I might do. “We should be most obliged, my dear Madame, should you be willing to give us the benefits of such skill this evening.”

…

“Regardez, Madame.” The King’s hand was under my elbow, directing my attention beyond the table. Now that the candle was lighted, I could see the two figures who stood silently among the flickering shadows. I started at the sight, and the King’s hand tightened on my arm.

The Comte St. Germain and Master Raymond stood there, side by side, separated by a distance of six feet or so. Raymond gave no sign of acknowledgment, but stood quietly, staring off to one side with the pupil-less black eyes of a frog in a bottomless well.

…

“These two men stand accused, Madame,” said Louis, with a gesture at Raymond and the Comte. “Of sorcery, of witchcraft, of the perversion of the legitimate search for knowledge into an exploration of arcane arts.” His voice was cold and grim. “Such practices flourished during the reign of my grandfather; but we shall not suffer such wickedness in our realm.”

…

“Extensive inquiry has been made,” the King said, turning to me. “Evidence has been presented, and the testimony of many witnesses taken. It seems clear”—he turned a cold gaze on the two accused magic—“that both men have undertaken investigations into the writings of ancient philosophers, and have employed the art of divinations, using calculation of the movements of heavenly bodies. Still…” He shrugged. “This is not of itself a crime. I am given to understand”—he glanced at a heavyset man in a hood, whom I suspected of being the Bishop of Paris—“that this is not necessarily at variance with the teachings of the Church; even the blessed St. Augustine was known to have made inquiries into the mysteries of astrology.”

I rather dimly recalled that St. Augustine had indeed looked into astrology, and had rather scornfully dismissed it as a load of rubbish. Still, I doubted that Louis had read Augustine’s Confessions, and this line of argument was undoubtedly a good one for an accused sorcerer; star-gazing seemed fairly harmless, by comparison with infant sacrifice and nameless orgies.

…

“We have brought here a witness,” he declared. “An infallible judge of truth, of purity of heart.”

I made a small, gurgling noise, which made the King turn to look at me.

“A White Lady,” he said softly. “La Dame Blanche cannot lie; she sees the heart and the soul of a man, and may turn that truth to good…or to destruction.”

The air of unreality that had hung over the evening vanished in a pop. The faint wine-buzz was gone, and I was suddenly stone-cold sober. I opened my mouth, and then shut it, realizing that there was precisely nothing I could say.

Horror snaked down my backbone and coiled in my belly as the King made his dispositions. Two pentagrams were to be drawn on the floor, within which the two sorcerers would stand. Each would then bear witness to his own activities and motives. And the White Lady would judge the truth of what was said.

“Jesus H. Christ,” I said, under my breath.

…

Everything was extremely quiet. Candle smoke hung in a pall near the gilded ceiling, wisps drifting the languid air currents. All eyes were trained on me. Finally, out of desperation, I turned to the Comte and nodded.

“You may begin, Monsieur le Comte,” I said.

He smiled—at least I assumed it was meant to be a smile—and began, starting out with an explication of the foundation of the Cabbala and moving right along to an exegesis on the twenty-three letters of the Hebrew alphabet, and the profound symbolism of it all. It sounded thoroughly scholarly, completely innocuous, and terribly dull. The King yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth.

…

“Just one minute,” I said. “All that you say so far is true, Monsieur le Comte, but I see a shadow behind your words.”

…

“This woman lies,” he said, sounding as definite as he had when informing the audience that the letter aleph was symbolic of the font of Christ’s blood. “She is no true White Lady, but the servant of Satan! In league with her master, the notorious sorcerer, du Carrefours’s apprentice!” He pointed dramatically at Raymond, who looked mildly surprised.

…

“The Holy Bible says, ‘They shall handle serpents unharmed,’ ” he thundered. “ ‘And by such signs shall ye know the servants of the true God!’ ”

…

“That is not all the Bible says, Monsieur le Comte,” Raymond observed. He didn’t raise his voice, and the wide amphibian face was bland as pudding. Still, the buzz of voices stopped, and the King turned to listen.

“Yes, Monsieur?” he said.

Raymond nodded in polite acknowledgment of having the floor, and reached into his robe with both hands. From one pocket he produced a flask, from the other a small cup.

“ ‘They shall handle serpents unharmed,’ ” he quoted, “ ‘and if they drink any deadly poison, they shall not die.’ ” He held the cup out on the palm of his hand, its silver lining gleaming in the candlelight. The flask was poised above it, ready to pour.

“Since both milady Broch Tuarach and myself have been accused,” Raymond said, with a quick glance at me, “I would suggest that all three of us partake of this test. With your permission, Your Majesty?”

Louis looked rather stunned by the rapid progress of events, but he nodded, and a thin stream of amber liquid splashed into the cup, which at once turned red and began to bubble, as though the contents were boiling.

“Dragon’s blood,” Raymond said informatively, waving at the cup. “Entirely harmless to the pure of heart.” He smiled a toothless, encouraging smile, and handed me the cup.

There didn’t seem much to do but drink it. Dragon’s blood appeared to be some form of sodium bicarbonate; it tasted like brandy with seltzer. I took two or three medium-sized swallows and handed it back.

With due ceremony, Raymond drank as well. He lowered the cup, exhibiting pink-stained lips, and turned to the King.

“If La Dame Blanche may be asked to give the cup to Monsieur le Comte?” he said. He gestured to the chalk lines at his feet, to indicate that he might not step outside the protection of the pentagram.

At the King’s nod, I took the cup and turned mechanically toward the Comte. Perhaps six feet of carpeting to cross. I took the first step, and then another, knees trembling more violently than they had in the small anteroom, alone with the King.

…

“Drink, Monsieur,” said the King. The dark eyes were hooded once more, showing nothing. “Or are you afraid?”

The Comte might have a number of things to his discredit, but cowardice wasn’t one of them. His face was pale and set, but he met the King’s eyes squarely, with a slight smile.

“No, Majesty,” he said.

He took the cup from my hand and drained it, his eyes fixed on mine. They stayed fixed, staring into my face, even as they glazed with the knowledge of death. The White Lady may turn a man’s nature to good, or to destruction.

The Comte’s body hit the floor, writhing, and a chorus of shouts and cries rose from the hooded watchers, drowning any sound he might have made. His heels drummed briefly, silent on the flowered carpet; his body arched, then subsided into limpness. The snake, thoroughly disgruntled, struggled free of the disordered folds of white satin and slithered rapidly away, heading for the sanctuary of Louis’s feet.

All was pandemonium.

— Dragonfly In Amber

Photos: outlander-online.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016

Photo Edit: outlanderhomepage.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016 (King Louis XV)

Gifs: headoverfeels.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016 (Claire)

Gif: outlanderhomepage.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016 (Comte St. Germain)

Book: Dragonfly In Amber, Diana Gabaldon, 1992

Tumblr: October 3, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Two Episode Seven #S2E7 #Faith #Dragonfly In Amber #Chapter Twenty-Six #These two men stand accused, Madame, of sorcery, of witchcraft #We have brought here a witness, an infallible judge of truth, of purity of heart #A White Lady, he said softly. La Dame Blanche cannot lie #Claire Fraser #Comte St. Germain #Master Raymond #King Louis XV #Monsieur Forez #99 #100318

[acutestyle]

10.03.18

[yourdailychenle]

© MBC on Naver

[96ne0]

hes so beautiful :((

[talltalestogo]

“Hope”

Hope Desiccated leaves / Fall murmurs through the breezes / Hope, too, rides the air. . . #100318 #leaves #murmurs #breezes #hope #desiccated #photo #poem #poetry #haiku #knoxvilletennessee #davidebooker #october

[fyeahprism]

prism2018_official Tell Me 'Bout It - Joss Stone #프리즘 #테라라이브 #prism #terra #보이는라디오 #경인방송 #obs . . . #음색깡패 #보컬 #귀호강 #노래 #라디오 #라디오라이브 #걸그룹 #live #음스타그램 #송스타그램 #노래스타그램 #커버노래 #daily #coversong #singstagram #tellmeboutit #jossstone #pop #music

[tamadnablogger]

Another Samgyupsal date!!! Samgyupsalamat will still always be the best samgyupsal restaurant, sarap talaga huhu. Thanks for today my love! ❤️

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

I heard the clicking of jet rosary beads as Mother Hildegarde straightened up, and the soft voice of one of the sisters in the doorway, summoning her to another in the day’s string of emergencies. She had almost reached the door when a thought struck her. She turned with a swish of heavy skirts, pointing at the foot of my bed with an authoritative finger.

“Bouton!” she said. “Au pied, reste!”

The dog, as unhesitating as his mistress, whirled smartly in mid-step and leaped to the foot of the bed. Once there, he took a moment to knead the bedclothes with his paws and turn three times widdershins, as though taking the curse off his resting place, before lying down at my feet, resting his nose on his paws with a deep sigh.

…

I woke, quite suddenly, to find that Bouton was gone, but I was not alone.

Raymond’s hairline was completely level, a flat line drawn across the wide brow as though with a rule. He wore his thick, graying hair swept back and hanging straight to the shoulder, so the massive forehead protruded like a block of stone, completely overshadowing the rest of his face. It hovered over me now, looking to my fevered eyes like the slab of a tombstone.

…

There was no stillness in my dreams, though, and I stumbled wearily through mazes of repeating figures, endless loopings and whorls. It was with a sense of profound relief that I saw at last the irregularities of a human face.

And an irregular face it was, to be sure, screwed up as it was in a ferocious frown, lips pursed in adjuration. It was only as I felt the pressure of the hand over my mouth that I realized I was no longer asleep.

The long, lipless mouth of the gargoyle hovered next to my ear.

“Be still, ma chère! If they find me here again, I’m done for!” The large, dark eyes darted from side to side, keeping watch for any movement of the drapes.

I nodded slowly, and he released my mouth, his fingers leaving a faint whiff of ammonium and sulfur behind. He had somewhere found—or stolen, I thought dimly—a ragged gray friar’s gown to cover the grimy velvet of his apothecary’s robe, and the depths of the hood concealed both the telltale silver hair and that monstrous forehead.

…

I watched with remote fascination as he placed his cupped hands on my breasts. They were broad and almost square, the fingers all of a length, with unusually long and supple thumbs that curved around my breasts with amazing delicacy.

…

The large thumbs were pressing gently but firmly into my flesh, and I could feel my swollen nipples rising against the hard palms, cold by comparison with my own heated skin.

“Jamie,” I said, and a shiver passed over me.

“Hush, madonna,” said Raymond. His voice was low, kind but somehow abstracted, as though he were paying no attention to me, in spite of what he was doing.

The shiver came back; it was as though the heat passed from me to him, but his hands did not warm. His fingers stayed cool, and I chilled and shook as the fever ebbed and flowed, draining from my bones.

The afternoon light was dim through the thick gauze of the drapes around my bed, and Raymond’s hands were dark on the white flesh of my breasts. The shadows between the thick, grimy fingers were not black, though. They were…blue, I thought.

I closed my eyes, looking at the particolored swirl of patterns that immediately appeared behind my lids. When I opened them again, it was as though something of the color remained behind, coating Raymond’s hands.

As the fever ebbed, leaving my mind clearer, I blinked, trying to raise my head for a better look. Raymond pressed slightly harder, urging me to lie back, and I let my head fall on the pillow, peering slantwise over my chest.

…

Always touching, never hurrying, he brought his hands back over the shallow curve of my collarbone and down the meridian of my body, splaying his palms across my ribs.

The oddest thing about all this was that I was not at all astonished. It seemed an infinitely natural thing, and my tortured body relaxed gratefully into the hard mold of his hands, melting and reforming like molded wax. Only the lines of my skeleton held firm.

An odd feeling of warmth now emanated from those broad, square, workman’s hands. They moved with painstaking slowness over my body, and I could feel the tiny deaths of the bacteria that inhabited my blood, small explosions as each scintilla of infection disappeared. I could feel each interior organ, complete and three-dimensional, and see it as well, as though it sat on a table before me. There the hollow-walled stomach, here the lobed solidness of my liver, and each convolution and twist of intestine, turned in and on and around itself, neatly packed in the shining web of its mesentery membrane. The warmth glowed and spread within each organ, illuminating it like a small sun within me, then died and moved on.

Raymond paused, hands pressed side by side on my swollen belly. I thought he frowned, but it was hard to tell. The cowled head turned, listening, but the usual noises of the hospital continued in the distance, with no warning heeltaps coming our way.

…

“Now,” he said softly. “Call him. Call the red man. Call him.”

The pressure of the fingers within and the palm without grew harder, and I pressed my legs against the the bed, fighting it. But there was no strength left in me to resist, and the inexorable pressure went on, cracking the crystal sphere, freeing the chaos within.

My mind filled with images, worse than the misery of the fever-dreams, because more real. Grief and loss and fear racked me, and the dusty scent of death and white chalk filled my nostrils. Casting about in the random patterns of my mind for help, I heard the voice still muttering, patiently but firmly, “Call him,” and I sought my anchor.

“Jamie! JAMIE!”

A bolt of heat shot through my belly, from one hand to the other, like an arrow through the center of the basin of my bones. The pressing grip relaxed, slid free, and the lightness of harmony filled me.

…

“I must go,” he said. He laid a hand upon my head. “Be well, madonna.”

Weak as I was, I rose up, grasping his arm. I slid my hand up the length of forge-tough muscle, seeking, but not finding. The smoothness of his skin was unblemished, clear to the crest of the shoulder. He stared down at me in astonishment.

���What are you doing, madonna?”

“Nothing.” I sank back, disappointed. I was too weak and too light-headed to be careful of my words.

“I wanted to see whether you had a vaccination scar.”

“Vaccination?” Skilled as I was at reading faces by now, I would have seen the slightest twitch of comprehension, no matter how swiftly it was concealed. But there was none.

“Why do you call me madonna still?” I asked. My hands rested on the slight concavity of my stomach, gently as though not to disturb the shattering emptiness. “I’ve lost my child.”

He looked mildly surprised.

“Ah. I did not call you madonna because you were with child, my lady.”

“Why, then?” I didn’t really expect him to answer, but he did. Tired and drained as we both were, it was as though we were suspended together in a place where neither time nor consequence existed; there was room for nothing but truth between us.

He sighed.

“Everyone has a color about them,” he said simply. “All around them, like a cloud. Yours is blue, madonna. Like the Virgin’s cloak. Like my own.”

The gauze curtain fluttered briefly and he was gone.

— Dragonfly In Amber

Photos: outlander-online.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016

Book: Dragonfly In Amber, Diana Gabaldon, 1992

Tumblr: October 3, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Two Episode Seven #S2E7 #Faith #Dragonfly In Amber #Chapter Twenty-Five #Call him. Call the red man. Call him #I sought my anchor. Jamie! JAMIE! #Why do you call me madonna still? #Everyone has a color about them. Yours is blue, madonna #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Master Raymond #Bouton #99 #100318

[nazenderr]

Boş verin insanları , akıtın hüznünüzü bir çift kanada , bir maviye … Daha vefalıdırlar.. Bir de kulağa bir memleket türküsü eserse uzaklardan en iyi dosttan iyidirler .

[maslany-news]

Tatiana Maslany attends A Conversation with Tatiana Maslany during SXSW | March 10, 2018

[yourdailychenle]

© MBC on Naver

[picturesofthearsenal]

Arsenal training | 10 March 2018

[rozie-rose]

HBD to me. Hahaha charooot.

Not me tho.

😂