#ASK & YOU SHALL RECIEVE … √ ` * { river answered }

[hauntinglyyinfinite]

River Barnes Tag Drop

[windsweptinred]

Sir Robert Gadling, Champion of Earth

It was a rare thing, for someone of his somewhat, irregular age bracket to experience what could truly be defined as a new sight.

But Dream of the Endless, sprawled belly down on the grassy land that lay between the New Inn and the river bank. Dark coat, draped about him like great, dark moth wings. Ear to the earth, cheek settled gently against buttercups and dandelion clocks. Smiling serenely to himself. That was definitely a first.

Leaving the door to the pubs main entrance ajar and depositing the outdoor menu board on route. Hob sauntered over to the prostrate Endless, bending low at the waist to meet two blue eyes. Peaking out from behind a rather monstrous sprout of daisies.

"Taking a nap in the sun, Duck?"

Dream regarded him momentarily before rolling onto his back. His ebony mane a wash with errant leaves and wild flower petals.

"I was listening."

Kneeling at his side, Hob swept a stray dandelion seed from his cheek, smiling indulgently.

"Ah, communing with nature is it?"

Recieving nought but a small, mischievous smirk in answer, he huffed a laugh. Flopping down onto the grass to mirror his partner.

"Alright, keep your secrets. You great, silly creature."

Turing on his side, head rested on his palm, he reached out, idly stroking the under side of Dream's chin. Watching his lover extend the pale collum of his neck in pleasure. Feeling a purr of gratification rumble down the lithe body. Great creature indeed.

"Since you're here, I've been thinking. About what we talked about when we last met. About some humans, being... What was the word you used? Marked? Yes, marked for an specific Endless. Well, if I'm Death's because of... Well you know. Or Desire's or whoever. I wonder if they'd be up for swapsies? I'm not much of a wordsmith, I know. But if there's any cosmic entity I have to swear my allegiance to, I'd want no other monarch then you love."

Dream regarded him silently for a moment, before capturing his free hand, pressing a reverent kiss to the mount of venus.

" You are not, nor shall ever be bound to either myself, nor any of my siblings. Though you have thrived uncommonly in each of our realms. You owe fealty to a much kinder sovereign. "

Hob balked at that.

"Who, God? Because quite frankly no thank you! The few centuries worth of confesssional catch up alone is horrifying to consider!"

Stars flared in his companion eyes as he graced him with an amused look.

"They do indeed have their chosen. Those saints and prophets who serve them in life and are called in death to the Heavens. But no... "

Dream took his hand, placing it lightly upon the ground, so to not crush the shards of grass beneath. Then, placed his own atop, entwining their fingers, pushing their nails and fingertips slightly into the soil below.

"She who has laid claim to you, sits here, beside you, beneath and above you. There are few beings who have walked her lands as long as you, and have resisted the lure of the occult. You remain as human, as earth born as when your lady mother bore you. And you are loved for it. Robert Gadling, meet she who has been called Tonantzin, Hou Tu, Bhuma. Third child of Via Lactea. By the ancient lore of these lands, she is Danu. But perhaps you would recognise her as Gaea or Terra. The Great Lady Mother Earth."

He felt it then, the ground around him, bracketing his body, as if being craddelled protectively in the palm of a hand. The pulsing in the sway of the blooms, in each ripple of the river. Like breathing or the drum of ancient heartbreat. The knowledge of a mother's eyes upon you while you play. The assurance of her protective gaze.

"She has kept you sheltered under her branches when you lacked hearth and home. She has granted you food and water when human hands denied you them. She has kept the water below you calm and the soil underfoot steady. Even now, she keeps my younger siblings from nipping at your heals. In return you have asked for no more from her then what was needed. And conitue to honour and protect her. You have earned her favour above 8 billion of your brothers and sisters Sir Gadling. Not a meger feat."

Humbled by the magnitude of it, Hob lowered his forhead to the ground. His temple brushed the fine root of ancient tree that grew within the grounds. Like a supplicant, he thought. At his he's queen's feet.

" At your service, my lady."

A gentle breath of air blew down upon him, like a whispered blessing. In the distance, he vaguely could make out the water of the river, churning in joyus waves upon the bank.

Beside him, Dream gracefully rose to his knees. An evident expression of pride in his gaze as he regarded Hob.

"I will leave you to get better acquainted."

Leaning forward, he placed a tender kiss into Hob's hair.

"Farewell my Heart."

Angling his head, Hob dove forward, capturing a tender, shared kiss. Nuzzling their noses together playfully.

"Goodbye Dove"

At that, his lover rose to his feet, Righting his coat with a dramatic flared sweep.

"My Lady" He swept into a courtly bow, directed at a clump of dock leaves. "I thank you for you continued care of my most beloved. May you have sweet dreams of Sols warm rays."

At his feet, plumes of wild poppies of red, orange and yellow blossomed, earning a rare, glowing smile from the Master of the Dreaming. With a final nod to Hob, Dream turned and took his leave.

Watching his lover deapart, Hob crawled, quietly forward , whispering conspiratorially into the head of a fox glove.

"If I may ask a humble boon? Watch over him too, when you are able."

As Dream passed by the tree, a low hanging branch, unfurled, reaching out. Folliage sweeping his cheek in a tender caress, which he instinctively leaned into. Hob wondered when, if ever Dream of the Endless had known a maternal embrace. To his right, a tree root flexed and groaned, causing the ivy vines coiled about it to violently twang with a rip cord snap.

"Not a fan of them either ey? " He patted the ground beside him. "Well, he's got us now."

Flopping once more onto his back, head cushions by arms. Hob Gadling smirked daringly at the clouds above.

"So, which climate destroying, corporate dragon would you like me to slay first My Lady? My sword is yours."

[thatrando13]

I am glad you imagine me alongside you, too. For I am the same. Beside me you walk through the woods, by the river, along the pavement. I often try to imagine your reaction to things, the sky above, the nature below, or even a joke lifted by the air, either my own or another's. I imagine yet I am not sure, for you are far too unique for me to perfectly imagine such a thing.

I doubt I can show you as such wonderful things as wild grapes that rest on the vines, but I will try. I'd show you all the places I go, even though they can not compare to such a wonderful thing.

For ever question you ask, I will try my best to answer.

I do not fear death, not really. It is a process we all must go through one day, the last verse of our song, the last of it all. Rather I fear what comes after, an unknown thing we can not see, for Death let's us tell no tales once we wave that final goodbye.

What about you? Does death make you shiver in fear or perhaps do you feel at peace with such a thing?

I am not sure who I want to be, I know at least that I do not want to be what others want me to be. I am still trying to find who I wish to be, but that is okay. The road is long but I have enough time to travel.

As for those around me, a value I would wish to see in them is if anything, open mindness. For without an open mind we can not allow ourselves to see the blights that plauge others, we can not see ways to help.

I think life as a raindrop would be a quick one. And a strange one at that. The beginning of our life would be a fall, fast from the sky, down, down. Maybe we would catch upon something, a window, a leaf and live moments longer before eventually, down we fall again. To join the brethren. Those in the puddles below, or the rivers, or the oceans, gone yet not. Living with a thousand thoughts.

Freedom is something I wish for but I understand the need for safety, it keeps us alive. And when we're alive, we can seek that freedom.

We can talk about anything you like, songs and their meanings. The way the wind floats through the trees, the slow crawl of the sun across the sky. Anything at all, so long as I am with you.

For to me, you are greater than it all, the sun, the moon, the sky and the stars. They don't compare to you, such a wonderful person.

I have never made a basket out of brambles, unfortunately, I wish to one day. And if it is with you? The day shall be even better!

Chance seems the most viable option of our meeting but I do not mind how we met. Just that it was you I met that fateful day.

Thank you, you're mighty cool too! :]

We can be silly together, run through the grass, climb the trees and dangle from the branches, laugh and splash through a river. Anything.

You have said such a thing before, I remember it because I agreed with your words. It is a strange but pleasant experience to know someone without the mask, just see them laying their heart bare.

I like to think I speak the same way in real life as the way I speak to you. I hope. If anything, I am more awkward in real life, haha. What about you? Do you speak the same?

You are indeed home to me. A haven where I can rest, drape a blanket over myself and trust that nothing can hurt me because you are here with me. Every book I read, I'd try my best to relay to you, because I'd love to share the knowledge with you.

I unfortunately haven't tried honeycomb, honey however is a wonderful sweet treat.

With every battle I face with you at my side, I will be there for you. I'll steer your chariot to ride to the walls of Troy, charge the armies as though you were Achilles, clad in blazing bronze as bright as the sun. Every wound you recieve I will heal, press a damp cloth to clean, bandage it and press a kiss to your forehead and promise you that you will be fine.

I shall watch over you, like Athena watched over Odysseus but I will not abandon you. I shall help you keep your mind sharp, to watch for foes and bring them down with your mighty strength.

This war I may face is an uphill battle but I fight with a smile. For this battle is one of many yes, but it shall help me grow, show me I am strong enough to win. To fight to one day be alongside you.

How do you fare in your battles, friend? You are strong, remember that, you shall win the day, I know it.

I am glad to be a comfort to you, and I shall be one for as long as you want me to be. Here for you, always. One day we shall hear each other, know each other's faces. One day.

I know my voice is rapid when I'm speaking of something I am passionate about, excitement rising in my tone. I am also one to talk with my hands, making little gestures or simply just shaking them. It can be quite funny, in my opinion.

And you? Does your voice rise and fall with the topic? Does a smile sneak upon your face at a joke, a topic you love?

A lioness suits you, you are certainly as striking and strong. But so do the flowers, bright and colourful, survivors.

I believe they can be the same, a lion and a butterfly. They both strive to live, to soar and to run. Resilience certainly fits them both, and you as well. As the lion hunts below on the ground, the butterfly floats on by, settling on a flower, giving life to new seedlings with the pollen it brings. While the lion brings new cubs into the world and takes one life for another.

Both are vital for our world's survival.

To answer your questions:

I spell it as grey

Often I don't remember my dreams, but when I do they are sometimes strange

Yes, I do. I wish to protect those close to me, shield them from whatever wishes to harm them. You are a part of this circle of people, how could you not be?

I do sing by myself, either songs that are in my head or I've listened to recently

I would, through the trees, through a field. Especially if I were with you

What would you your answers be to such questions?

Thank you for being in my life.

I hope you never leave it.

-> Atlas

Did I write you into existence?

Was it a destined happenstance?

Falling faster than a blinded fury plagued by a red-hot rage, I crumbled upon asphalt as gladiolus' bloomed from the wreckage

My heart has not stilled and my feet carry me across lands and waters of time, of memories, to uncover that warmth you had awoken within me

With only a glance, I was enthralled with your figure, your firm demeanor and guiding hands

And you have taught me what's it is like to endure a fear of death, of darkened alleyways and forsaken endings, for I now know what it is truly like to live

I peer from the gardens and admire your beauty, a tantalizing capture of a prophetic essence

And I wish to take you to the underbelly of my mind, ridden by hollow caves of withering knowledge and dim candlelight

Steal you away from your perch, as though you were Persephone, and I, a lonesome ruler of my own demise desperate for your simple, golden-etched touch

Could you silence the roaring tides that perturb my thoughts? Could you sprout flowers from my blood, dress me in silk and make me immortal?

Can you rid me of the shadows that haunt me behind closed eyes, bring forth pastels and bountiful harvests and kiss a smile upon my chapped lips?

Maybe it was a fated encounter, designed by godly hands and set forth by winged angels

Or, simply a coincidence that I met your gaze through crowded places, tumultuous happenings, and war-torn terrain

Whether it was crafted by a divine being or a serendipity, I crave the life that is in full-bloom, as I have plucked the iniquitous weeds and fed the buds within our flower-bed

I wish for the fresh baked bread, hot meals and scents of domesticity as I plead to come home to a house full of you: your words, your clothes, your aura of solace

For, does it matter if I wrote you into existence, or paired by a celestial being, or purloined you from a Greek myth?

You've shown me a love that makes it so hard to cry without a smile, or laugh without tears, or perceive all that the Earth has to offer

I express my gratitude to the grass between my toes, the skies that paint my world blue, the oceans that soothes my ears

You have breathed a new life into my being, resurrected a decrepit bystander into something with a purpose far beyond what I could have expected

Every morning, I now smile as I open our front door, excitedly awaiting what a fresh day has to offer

-lauren a.p

[improbable-warden]

Alright girlies I have some thoughts about Paul so strap in cause I'm getting theological. 

I just reblogged this post and I stand by my agreement with it - truly OP is right and I sobbed during Paul’s birth because Camiledes is such a deep and unadultered affection of loyalty that it is tragically codependent. And if we are thinking in terms of interhuman relationships (which is not a wrong way of looking at their relationship) then it is indeed twisted and I miss both Cam and Sex Pal so much in a very Normal way. 

But I’d like to bounce off the notion of Greek soulmates that nerdetiquette mentioned and add onto it by thinking about medieval Catholic notions of love (in the sense of caritas not amor) and unity. Paul is, for all intents and purposes, the exemplum of perfect Catholic union in love according to 13th century theology. Allow me to elaborate.

According to 13th century mystical theology (yes, mystics, as in religious people who recieved visions from God and interacted with him in dreams, not unlike Harrow through most of Nona, actually) a person could experience union between the soul and God through love, beyond consciousness. In fact, according to a very popular 12th century mystic (Bernard of Clairvaux), experience (and especially the experience of affection or love) was the means by which this union could be attained - a union which was itself the truest expression and experience of love. But what is this union?

In the 13th century, female mystics - especially Mechthild of Magdeburg - elaborated on it through their own mystical practices. Mechthild wrote extensively about the “annihilation” of the Soul into God: at the moment of union, the Soul would dissolve back into the vast river (her imagery) of the holy divinity. The Soul’s ability to lose itself so completely in the eb and flow of God was contingent on one thing: the Soul’s humility. Humility in this sense means surrendering the Soul’s individual (human) will to the will of God. But, importantly, if the Soul submits her will to God, then God also submits Their will to the Soul. (I apologise, I don’t have the exact reference to this in Mechthild’s text off the top of my head). Essentially, it’s a mutual surrenduring where neither will supercedes the other. This is exactly what Camilla and Palamedes were aiming for when they combined into Paul, because the big problem they were having before their union was that either Camilla or Palaemedes’ soul (whichever was dominant at a given time) was trying to push the other out, to enforce its own will over that of the other. In surrendering to each other, they became One.

But how is this surrendering mutual? How does it work? Well, really seamlessly when the internal theoretical logic insists that the Two are always already One in the Same. Which is exactly the case in both Mechthild’s text and Nona. In book 1.22 of The Flowing Light, Mechthild says, “Tell me, where did our Redeemer become the Bridegroom?” And the Soul answers, “In the jubilus of the Holy Trinity. When God could no longer contain himself, he created the soul and, in his immense love, gave himself to her as her own.” Which, let’s be super honest, sounds like a slightly nicer version of Nona John 1:20: “I wanted... I wanted you. I wanted you like a caveman wants a wildfire. [...] I cupped your soul in my hands. I took you into myself and we became one. I mean, I tried. There was so much of you. [...] But I needed a house to put you in, if I wasn’t going to put all of you in me” (p. 405-408). The Soul is the result of God/Jod’s overflowing desire (love); she already belongs to Them/Him, and They/He always already belonged to her. Mechthild continues, asking, "What are you made of, Soul, that you ascend so high above all creatures, mingle with the Holy Trinity, and yet remain whole in yourself?" And the Soul answers: "You have brought up the question of my origin. I shall tell you honestly: I was made by love in that very place [in the Trinity]. For that reason no creature is able to give comfort to my noble nature or to open it up except love alone." Which, once more, sounds very much like Nona John 1:20: “From my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. [...] I remade us both. I hid me in you... I hid you in me” (p. 409). Again, the Soul is always already a piece of God, a fragment of his eternal and all-encompassing love. If every Soul is God, and God is every Soul, then we are all always already One. Perfect union in love (”one flesh, one end” ; “two in one flesh”) is inevitable and mutual - it is not the annihilation of two different selves into each other, but the realisation of the One perfect self which is the two selves, and which the two selves already were.

Therefore, in this light, we must understand Paul as representative of precisely this kind of perfect mystical love union.

We can take this one step further by considering that 13th century mystics often visualised such union as a marriage between the Soul and God (above, Mechthild calls God “bridegroom”, for example). I could write literally hundreds of pages explaining the implications and nuances of mystical union as marriage (and I have). But suffice it to say that the sanctioning of marraige (and thus of conjugal union) as holy sacrament has a long history in Catholic theology with an eye specifically on the fertility of such unions. If we want to consider “two in one flesh” as a metaphor for heterosexual reproduction, the Church Fathers would absolutely support us on that. What I’m trying to get at here is that not only does Paul represent the perfect example of spiritual union between two perfectly aligned Souls in this theology, but also the perfect example of physical union between two perfectly aligned Souls: that is, offspring. Paul is neither Cam nor Sex Pal, but they resemble something of both of them in their body and in their mannerisms and way of thinking. Much like a child would its parents. 

And this brings me neatly to my final point concerning the name Paul. Biblically, Saint Paul originally persecuted Jews until he was converted on the road to Damascus (I’m not summarising with details) - Sex Pal and Cam originally were very against the whole Lyctorhood concept until they did a whole lot more learning and discovered how to perfect it. They, like Saint Paul, were originally “non -believers” in a way. But more importantly, Saint Paul (who I personally fundamentally despise, truly fuck Saint Paul he’s got some terrible fucking takes) writes in 1 Corinthians 7:2-9 : “But because of the temptation to sexual immorality, each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband. The husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and likewise the wife to her husband. For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. Do not deprive one another, except perhaps by agreement for a limited time, that you may devote yourselves to prayer; but then come together again, so that Satan may not tempt you because of your lack of self-control. Now as a concession, not a command, I say this. I wish that all were as I myself am [celibate]. But each has his own gift from God, one of one kind and one of another. To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is good for them to remain single, as I am. But if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to burn with passion.” While this cannot be called a praise of marriage, Paul very much sanctions marriage and especially highlights (in a shocking moment of not being a huge fucking misogynist) the sense of unity, of oneness, of mutual responsibility between spouses (italicised in the quote). And to the point about it being “better to marry than to burn with passion” this feels very Camiledes, since early Nona it’s established that Palamedes appears to be inclined to write erotica but Cam firmly blocks him from doing so - blocks him from sexual temptation. They belong to each other, and to each other alone. 

What I’m trying to say is that Paul is, in this sense, the truest pinnacle of Catholic love on both a physical and spiritual level. They are the incarnation of perfect consent and aligned will, the very image of the Soul’s perfection and wholeness which can be attained through pure love. It is a tragically co-dependent love insofar as isolated indivituals are prised above spiritual perfection, but from a medieval theological standpoint Paul is nothing short of love’s ideal form. 

[nordleuchten]

Major-General Phillips’ letters to La Fayette

My original intention was to write about the letter La Fayette wrote to Major-General William Phillips as a reply to Phillips privious three letters … but I realised that La Fayettes letters is a lot less interesting without Phillips letters as context.

Petersburg April 26th 1781

Sir,

My Aid de Camps Servant, John Porteus, was taken yesterday. I request you will have the goodness to send him back as soon as possible. I conceive nothing but the little hurry of yesterday could have prevented this being done without application, as I imagine you are a Gentleman who perfectly understand these civilities, which have been practiced by the Kings Officers on all occasions, particularly in the instances of General Stubens Servant and others taken by Lieutenant Colonel Simcoe in the last expedition, who were sent back immediately.

I am Sir your humble servant.

W. PHILLIPS

  British Camp, at Osborn, April 28, 1781

[Sir,

It is a principle of the British army engaged in the present war, which they esteem as an unfortunate one, to conduct it with every attention to humanity and the laws of war; and in the necessary destruction of public stores of every kind, to prevent, as far as possible, that of private property. I call upon the inhabitants of Yorktown, Williamsburg, Petersburg, and Chesterfield, for a proof of the mild treatment they have received from the king's troops; in particular at Petersburg, when the town was saved by the labour of the soldiers, which otherwise must have perished by the wilful inactivity of its inhabitants. I have now a charge of the deepest nature to make against the American arms: that of having fired upon the king's troops by a flag of truce vessel; and, to render the conduct as discordant to the laws] of Arms, the Flag was left flying the whole time at the Mast-head seeming to sport with the most sacred kind of War. You are sensible, Sir, that I am authorized to inflict the severest punishments in return for this bad Conduct, and that the Town & Villages lay at the mercy of the King's troops, and it is to that mercy alone that you can appeal for their not being reduced to Ashes. The Compassion & Benevolence which has mark'd the British Character in the present Contest, still govern the Conduct of the King's Officers, & I shall willingly remit the Infliction of any redress We have a right to claim, provided the Persons who fired from the Flag of Truce Vessell are delivered into my possession and a public disavowal made by you Sir, of the Villainy of their Conduct. Shou'd you, Sir, refuse this I hereby make you answerable for any desolation which may follow in Consequence.

Your Ships of War, & all other Vessells, not actually in our possession in Jas. River, are however driven beyond a possibility of escaping, and are in the predicament & Condition of a Town blockaded by land, when it is contrary to the Rules of War, that any public Stores shou'd be destroyed. I therefore shall demand from you, Sir, a full Account of whatever may be destroyed, on board Vessells or otherwise, and I need not mention to you what the Rules of War are in these Cases.I am Sir your Obedt. Hble. Servt.

w. PHILLIPS

P. S. Mr. Steel who is thoroughly master of the subject of the Action

with the Vessells last Night can with the other Officers I have released

upon parole inform you of all the Particulars. W. P.

 Camp at Osburns Apl. 2gth 1781

Sir,

When I was at Williamsburg and at Petersburg I gave several I[n]habitants and Country People protections for their person and properties; I did this without asking or even considering whether these People were either Friends or Foes, actuated by no other motive than that of pure humanity. I understand from almost undoubted authority The War Moves to Virginia that several of these Persons have been taken up by their malicious Neighbours and sent to your Quarters, where preparations are making for their being ill treated, a report which I sincerely hope may be without foundation. I repeat to you, Sir, that my protections were given generally from a wish that in the distruction of public Stores as little damage as possible might be done to private property and to the persons of individuals, but at any rate I shall insist upon my Sign manual being held sacred, and I am obliged to declare to you, Sir, that if any Persons under the discription I have given, recieve ill treatment, I shall be under the necessity of sending to Petersburg & giving that chastisement to the illiberal persecutors of innocent People which their conduct shall deserve; and I further declare to you, Sir, should any person be put to death under the pretence of their being Spies of, or Friends to, the British Government, I will make the Shores of James River an example of terror to the rest of Virginia. It is from the violent measures resolutions of the present House of Deligates Counce!, and Governor of Virginia, that I am impelled to use this language, which the common temper of my disposition is hurt at. I will hope that you, Sir, whom I have understood to be a Gentleman of liberal principles will not countenance, still less permit to be carried into execution the barberous spirit, which seems to prevail in the Councils of the present civil power of this Colony.

I do assure you, Sir, I am extremely inclined to carry on this unfortunate Contest with every degree of Humanity and I will believe you intend doing the same. I am Sir Your most Obt. Humbl. Scrt.

W. PHILIPS

[kylo-v]

All V Poems

William Blake, A Dream

Once a dream did weave a shade

O'er my angel-guarded bed,

That an emmet lost its way

Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,

Dark, benighted, travel-worn,

Over many a tangle spray,

All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'Oh my children! do they cry,

Do they hear their father sigh?

Now they look abroad to see,

Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropped a tear:

But I saw a glow-worm near,

Who replied, 'What wailing wight

Calls the watchman of the night?

'I am set to light the ground,

While the beetle goes his round:

Follow now the beetle's hum;

Little wanderer, hie thee home!'

William Blake, Proverbs of Hell 

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. 

Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead. 

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. 

Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity. 

He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence. The cut worm forgives the plow. 

Dip him in the river who loves water. A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees. 

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star. 

Eternity is in love with the productions of time. 

The busy bee has no time for sorrow. 

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure. 

All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap. 

Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth. 

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings. 

A dead body, revenges not injuries. 

The most sublime act is to set another before you. 

If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise. 

Folly is the cloke of knavery. Shame is Prides cloke. 

Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion. 

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. 

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. 

The nakedness of woman is the work of God. 

Excess of sorrow laughs. 

Excess of joy weeps. 

The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man. 

The fox condemns the trap, not himself. 

Joys impregnate. 

Sorrows bring forth. 

Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep. 

The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship. 

The selfish smiling fool, & the sullen frowning fool, shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod. 

What is now proved was once, only imagin’d. 

The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit: watch the roots; the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant, watch the fruits. 

The cistern contains; the fountain overflows. 

One thought, fills immensity. 

Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you. 

Every thing possible to be believ’d is an image of truth. 

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow. 

The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion. 

Think in the morning. 

Act in the noon. 

Eat in the evening. 

Sleep in the night. 

He who has suffer’d you to impose on him knows you. 

As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers. 

The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction. 

Expect poison from the standing water. 

You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. 

Listen to the fools reproach! it is a kingly title! 

The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth. 

The weak in courage is strong in cunning. 

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey. 

The thankful reciever bears a plentiful harvest. 

If others had not been foolish, we should be so. 

The soul of sweet delight, can never be defil’d. 

When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius, lift up thy head! 

As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys. 

To create a little flower is the labour of ages. 

Damn, braces: Bless relaxes. 

The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest. 

Prayers plow not! Praises reap not! 

Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not! 

The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion. 

As the air to a bird of the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible. 

The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white. 

Exuberance is Beauty. 

If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning. 

Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius. 

Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires. 

Where man is not nature is barren. 

Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d. 

Enough! or Too much!

William Black, Earth’s Answer

Earth rais'd up her head,

From the darkness dread & drear.

Her light fled:

Stony dread!

And her locks cover'd with grey despair.

Prison'd on watry shore

Starry Jealousy does keep my den

Cold and hoar

Weeping o'er

I hear the Father of the ancient men

Selfish father of men

Cruel, jealous, selfish fear

Can delight

Chain'd in night

The virgins of youth and morning bear.

Does spring hide its joy

When buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower?

Sow by night?

Or the plowman in darkness plow?

Break this heavy chain,

That does freeze my bones around

Selfish! vain!

Eternal bane!

That free Love with bondage bound.

William Blake, Love and Harmony Combine

LOVE and harmony combine

And around our souls entwine,

While thy branches mix with mine

And our roots together join.

Joys upon our branches sit,

       Chirping loud and singing sweet;

Like gentle streams beneath our feet,

Innocence and virtue meet.

Thou the golden fruit dost bear,

I am clad in flowers fair;

       Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,

And the turtle buildeth there.

There she sits and feeds her young;

Sweet I hear her mournful song;

And thy lovely leaves among,

       There is Love: I hear his tongue.

There his charmed nest he doth lay,

There he sleeps the night away,

There he sports along the day,

And doth among our branches play.

William Blake, Songs of Innocence, “Infant Joy”

I have no name

I am but two days old.—

What shall I call thee?

I happy am

Joy is my name,—

Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!

Sweet joy but two days old,

Sweet joy I call thee;

Thou dost smile.

I sing the while

Sweet joy befall thee.

William Blake, Poetical Sketches

Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees,

Whispering faint murmurs to the scanty breeze,

I walk the village round; if at her side

A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,

I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,

That made my love so high and me so low.

O should she e'er prove false, his limbs I'd tear

And throw all pity on the burning air;

I'd curse bright fortune for my mixed lot,

And then I'd die in peace, and be forgot.

TO THE MUSES.

WHETHER on Ida's shady brow

Or in the chambers of the East,

The chambers of the Sun, that now

From ancient melody have ceased;

Whether in heaven ye wander fair

Or the green corners of the earth,

Or the blue regions of the air,

Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,

Beneath the bosom of the sea

Wandering in many a coral grove,

Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!

William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour

A Robin Red breast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage

A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons

Shudders Hell thr' all its regions

A dog starvd at his Masters Gate

Predicts the ruin of the State

A Horse misusd upon the Road

Calls to Heaven for Human blood

Each outcry of the hunted Hare

A fibre from the Brain does tear

A Skylark wounded in the wing

A Cherubim does cease to sing

The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight

Does the Rising Sun affright

Every Wolfs & Lions howl

Raises from Hell a Human Soul

The wild deer, wandring here & there

Keeps the Human Soul from Care

The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife

And yet forgives the Butchers knife

The Bat that flits at close of Eve

Has left the Brain that wont Believe

The Owl that calls upon the Night

Speaks the Unbelievers fright

He who shall hurt the little Wren

Shall never be belovd by Men

He who the Ox to wrath has movd

Shall never be by Woman lovd

The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

Shall feel the Spiders enmity

He who torments the Chafers Sprite

Weaves a Bower in endless Night

The Catterpiller on the Leaf

Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief

Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly

For the Last Judgment draweth nigh

He who shall train the Horse to War

Shall never pass the Polar Bar

The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat

Feed them & thou wilt grow fat

The Gnat that sings his Summers Song

Poison gets from Slanders tongue

The poison of the Snake & Newt

Is the sweat of Envys Foot

The poison of the Honey Bee

Is the Artists Jealousy

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags

Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags

A Truth thats told with bad intent

Beats all the Lies you can invent

It is right it should be so

Man was made for Joy & Woe

And when this we rightly know

Thro the World we safely go

Joy & Woe are woven fine

A Clothing for the soul divine

Under every grief & pine

Runs a joy with silken twine

The Babe is more than swadling Bands

Throughout all these Human Lands

Tools were made & Born were hands

Every Farmer Understands

Every Tear from Every Eye

Becomes a Babe in Eternity

This is caught by Females bright

And returnd to its own delight

The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar

Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore

The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

Writes Revenge in realms of Death

The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air

Does to Rags the Heavens tear

The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun

Palsied strikes the Summers Sun

The poor Mans Farthing is worth more

Than all the Gold on Africs Shore

One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands

Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands

Or if protected from on high

Does that whole Nation sell & buy

He who mocks the Infants Faith

Shall be mockd in Age & Death

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

The rotting Grave shall neer get out

He who respects the Infants faith

Triumphs over Hell & Death

The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons

Are the Fruits of the Two seasons

The Questioner who sits so sly

Shall never know how to Reply

He who replies to words of Doubt

Doth put the Light of Knowledge out

The Strongest Poison ever known

Came from Caesars Laurel Crown

Nought can Deform the Human Race

Like to the Armours iron brace

When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow

A Riddle or the Crickets Cry

Is to Doubt a fit Reply

The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile

Make Lame Philosophy to smile

He who Doubts from what he sees

Will neer Believe do what you Please

If the Sun & Moon should Doubt

Theyd immediately Go out

To be in a Passion you Good may Do

But no Good if a Passion is in you

The Whore & Gambler by the State

Licencd build that Nations Fate

The Harlots cry from Street to Street

Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet

The Winners Shout the Losers Curse

Dance before dead Englands Hearse

Every Night & every Morn

Some to Misery are Born

Every Morn and every Night

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to Endless Night

We are led to Believe a Lie

When we see not Thro the Eye

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light

God Appears & God is Light

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night

But does a Human Form Display

To those who Dwell in Realms of day

[violentmouths]

We Can Do Bad All By Ourselves, Thank you!

Chapter 2:

Sorry I took so long, I got a lot cooking, but hey, here's another chapter. Idky but I like when people get to know the characters before we get to the fighting and conflict.

I'd like to thank you all for the support on the last chapter. I'm deeply touched.

So here's to my buddies @clevermentalitybeliever @birdgirl69 @skvaderarts @krazy06 @dhalia111 @lunafreyastrophywife @lessy86 @thedyingmoon

And let's begin.

***

Chapter 2: El-ahrairah

It was a quiet tea time, Lanea and Grima sat themselves back in the livingroom, waiting patiently to drink their Earl Grey. They were still waiting for moonrise, as well as the call from Dante to receive a mission. Lanea stared at the amber liquid in her tea cup, thinkin of the nickname her five eyed friend said.

The Black Rabbit of Inlé.

It gave her shivers down her spine, yet it tingled on her tongue. She wanted to ask Grima about the name but was hesitant, then again, why should she be hesitant with plant demon? "Grima, " she called out to the demon. Grima, who's eyes were closed, quickly opened and shot in Lanea's direction.

"Yes?" Grima answered, looking around to see of anything was out of place, "That name... 'The black rabbit of inlé' why did you give such an interesting name to V if you don't like him?" Lanea asked calmly, Grima looked around, clicking hoarsely, such a sound rang in Lanea's ears.

"The black rabbit of inlé represents death, if he calls to you... You must go. That 'thing' is quite like him, and yet like many others..." Grima explained, holding up a finger, only to quickly drop it. "He reminds me about El-ahrairah more than anything." She added, "El-ahrairah..." Lanea trailed off, she looked down at her tea before taking a sip, "Who's that?" She asked, quickly looking back at Grima, who brought her legs onto the couch, nuzzling into the soft cushions "El-ahrairah is a character in my favorite book, Watership Down, his name literally means 'prince with a thousand enemies' he was arguably one of the great rabbit leaders." Grima informed, taking a sip of her tea and placing it onto the coffee table. Lanea nodded her head before turning it back towards Grima "Any stories about him?" She asked "If there are any, I'd like to hear one. It'll make time go by faster." Grima began to slouch, she looked at the ceiling.

"Long ago, the great Frith made the world. He made all the stars, too, and the world is one of those stars. He made them by scattering his droppings over the sky and this is why the grass and the trees grow so thick on the world. Frith makes the rivers flow." Grima spoke, she got up and went into the kitchen leaving Lanea on the couch to ponder the information she just recieved. "Frith?" She questioned, "Is Frith God, Grima?" Lanea turned her head towards the kitchen doorway "Well, it's the sun. The rabbits personified it as a god!" Grima called out, she quickly came back with a cheese board filled with many different cheeses and grapes on it.

Grima placed the cheese board down on the coffee table; Grima loves cheese.

Lanea reached over to the coffee table and grabbed herself a handful of grapes as Grima grabbed a block of cheese, sitting back down in her spot on the couch "Continue with the story, Ms. Li, you've got my attention." Lanea advised, Grima nodded her head as she broke off a piece of cheese.

"Let's see um, ah, the rivers..." Grima mumbled, pointing a finger at the ceiling "They followed him as he goes through the sky, and when he leaves the sky they look for him all night. Frith made the animals and birds, but when he first made them they were all the same. The sparrow and the kestrel were friends and they both ate seeds and flies. And the fox and the rabbit were friends and they both ate grass. And there was plenty of grass and plenty of flies, because the world was new and Frith shone bright and warm all day." Grima went on, Lanea snacked gently on her grapes, letting every little fruit burst in her mouth; sweet, crisp, and juicy the grapes were.

"Now El-ahrairah was among the animals in those days and he had many wives. He had so many wives that there was no counting them, and the wives had so many young that even Frith could not count them, and they ate the grass, the dandelions, the lettuces, and the clover. And El-ahrairah sas the father of them all." Grima muffled as she chewed on her block of cheese, the sounds of it mushing between her teeth and lips snacking made Lanea scoff at how much the demon enjoyed the taste of something creamy, salty, yet zangy.

"After a time the grass began to grow thin and the rabbits wandered everywhere, multiplying and eating as they went. Then Frith said to El-ahrairah, 'Prince Rabbit, if you cannot control your people, I shall find ways to control them. So mark what I say.' But El-ahrairah would not listen and he said to Frith, 'My people are the strongest in the world, for they breed faster and eat more than any of the other people. And this shows how much they love Lord Frith, for of all the animals they are the most responsive to his warmth and brightness. You must realize my lord, how important they are and not hinder them in their beautiful lives.'" Grima continued, Lanea took a sip of her tea.

She was astonished how Ms. Li remembered the story so well, but with every good story, there's bad pieces to it. And Lanea was ready for what Grima's story had to offer, "Seems like El-ahrairah is going to put his rabbits through hell with what he just said to the great Frith, huh?" She asked, putting a hand on her face and resting her elbow on her knee. "Now now now, Lanea. I don't do spoilers, I refuse to have unlimited questions during my story telling." Grima replied, she rested her back against the arm rest and looked at the ceiling.

"Frith could've killed El-ahrairah at once, but he had a mind to keep him in the world, because he needed him to sport, jest, and play tricks. So he determined to get the better of him, not by means of his own power but by means of trick. He gave out that he would hold a great meeting and at that meeting he would give a present to every animal and bird, to make each one different from the rest. And all the creatures set out to go to the meeting place. But they all arrived at different times, because Frith made sure it would happen so. And when the black bird came, he gave him his beautiful song, and when the cow came, he gave her sharp horns and the strength to be afraid of no other creature. And so in their turn came the fox, stoat, and weasel. And to each of them Frith gave the cunning and the fierceness and the desire to hunt, slay, and eat the children of El-ahrairah. And so they went away from Frith full of nothing but hunger to kill the rabbits." Grima kept on going with the story, one of her legs were hanging off the couch, swinging back and forth.

She had all of her eyes closed and sometimes opened two on the right side to see if Lanea's face changed. But it remained aloof. "I had a feeling Frith was up to something. Then again, he'd have to be, after what El-ahrairah has said. I'd be out for blood too." Lanea said putting her cup down, she held a finger up and pointed it at Grima, who only nodded her head and waited patiently for the little witch to finish.

"I think most of us would be... Where was I, hmm...?"

"Well, you stopped at carnivores being out for rabbit blood..."

"Oh yes, everyone's gift, thank you."

"I wonder if El-ahrairah will receive a gift..." Lanea trailed off, she leaned forward and rested herself on Grima's large thigh, slowly crossing her arms and resting her chin on them. Ms. Li did nothing, she didn't mind it. "Now, all this time El-ahrairah was dancing and mating, boasting that he was going to Frith's meeting to receive a great gift. And at last he set out for the meeting place. But as he was going there, he stopped to rest on a sandy hillside. And while he was resting, over the hill came flying the dark swift, screaming as he went, 'News! News! News!' For you know, this is what he has said ever since that day. So El-ahrairah called up to him and said, 'What news?' 'Why,' said the swift, 'I would not be you, El-ahrairah. For Frith has given the fox and the weasel cunning hearts and sharp teeth, and to the cat he has given silent feet and eyes that can see in the dark, and they are gone away from Frith's place to kill and devour all that belongs to El-ahrairah.' And he dashed on over the hills. And at that moment El-ahrairah heard the voice of Frith calling, 'Where is El-ahrairah? For all the others have taken their gifts and gone and I have to come to look for him.'" Grima informed, cutting herself another block of cheese. She quickly bit into it, chewing it quickly before swallowing it, then repeating what she did.

"Then El-ahrairah knew that Frith was too clever for him and he was frightened. He thought that the fox and the weasel were coming with Frith and he turned to the face of the hill and began to dig. He dug a hole, but he had dug only a little of it when Frith came over the hill alone. And he saw El-ahrairah's bottom sticking out of the hole and sand flying out in showers as the digging went on. When he saw that he called out ' My friend, have you seen El-ahrairah, for I am looking for him to give him my gift?' 'No,' answered El-ahrairah, 'I'm busy. The fox and the weasel are coming. If you want to bless me you can bless my bottom, for it is sticking out of the hole." Grima muffled, Lanea let out a chuckle. "Bless his bottom, eh?" She groaned "Now now Lanea, the story is coming to a close." Grima cooed, Lanea placed her chin on her forearms, continuing to stare at the spider plant.

Waiting for her to finish another block of cheese.

"Then, Frith felt himself in friendship with El-ahrairah, because of his resourcefulness, and because he would not give up even when he thought the fox and the weasel were coming. And he said, 'Very well, I will bless your bottom as it sticks out of a hole. Bottom, be strength and warning speed forever and save the life of your master. Be it so!' And as he spoke, El-ahrairah's tail grew shining white and flashed like a star: and his back legs grew long and powerful and he thumped the hillside until the very beetles fell of the grass stems. He came out of the hole and tore across the hill faster than any creature in the world and Frith called after him, 'El-ahrairah, your people cannot rule the world, for I will not have it so. All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, runner, listener, prince with a swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.' And El-ahrairah knew then that although he would not be mocked, yet Frith was his friend. And every evening, when Frith has done his days work and lies calm and easy in the red sky, El-ahrairah, his children, and his children's children come out of their holes and feed and play in his sight, for they are his friends and he promised them that they can never be destroyed." Grima finished, leaving her doll faced friend in awe.

The story made her feel, strong. Although a rabbit is small and weak, it was strong in it's own way.

"Are there anymore?"

"Hmm?"

"Are there anymore stories Ms. Li, surely that can't be the end of El-ahrairah's story."

"There are more stories, but all in do time."

Lanea sighed before getting up from the couch. Grima got up and dusted off her black silked backless romper before looking at the clock; it was passed moonrise. "Alright girl, put ya suit on. We're going out for a little fun." Lanea nodded her head before retreating to her room, as she changed into her outfit she wondered what other stories of the Rabbit Prince Grima would tell next? What made him so great? Were there any other rabbits just like El-ahrairah? But like Grima said.

All in due time.

***

Well, there's that, off to the next chapter with me. Hope you liked it, I thought it be nice since Lanea likes stories. Watership Down is both Grima and my favorite story (It took me four days to read it completely) so you will be hearing her reference a lot of insults, stories, and words from the book alot. Once again, thank you, and I will see you again soon...

Oh, and don't forget to check out @askmrvandmsli any questions you got for them they'll answer as best as they can. So ask 'em whatever... Bye now!

[clarosowrites]

The Gauntlet, Pt 2

Part 1 is here  

I’m really unsatisfied with how this turned out, but its done, so whatever. 

      Back at camp, Zevran slung a towel over his shoulder. The fighting today was fierce, and although Wynne had healed his cuts and bruises, his muscles still ached. A quick soak would help him relax. Another thought occurred to him and he grabbed his flask as well. He started to leave, intent on leaving the day behind him.

     "Zevran!" Lelianna's accented voice stopped him in his tracks.

     He groaned. Before he could do anything else, the red head ran up, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him towards her tent.

     "Mi carina, this is really rather sudden," He said, frowning. Braska, her grip was tight. "I am flattered, but I am unfortunately--" She pushed him, forcing him to stumble face first into the tent. "--taken. Ah."

    Alistair and Wynne were inside. Lelianna crawled in behind him, forcing him to sit pressed into Alistair to make room. They all looked cramped and very serious.

     "So, no seduction, then." At the glares he recieved, he sighed. "Pity."

     "Look," Alistair started. "Me and Lelianna were talking about Clara...about what happened today."

    Zevran frowned. "Oh? And here I thought I left the gossiping fishwives in Antiva."

    "We are not gossiping!" Lelianna exclaimed. "We want to help her, but she refuses to talk to either of us."

    "Probably for good reason." He muttered.

     "We don't know what to do next, but we have to do something!"

     "Wynne..." Alistair hesitated. "Was she really...does she have a child?"

    The mage huffed. "This is ridiculous. I refuse to go behind Clara's back. If she wants you to know, she can tell you herself."

    "She's hurting! She's barely spoken to anyone since the temple!" Lelianna exclaimed.

    "That is her choice. Not everyone will act the way you want them to react."

    "I'm not saying that!"

    Alistair spoke over her. "How did she deal with all this before? Was she like this?"

    "Yes." Wynne paused. "She was quiet, only speaking to Jowan for months. We let her be, let her heal at her own pace. She came around eventually."

    "You didn't see her today at the temple. She was crying. I've never seen her like that."

    "Maybe she didn't heal at all." Lelianna said.  "The vision said--"

    "Oh, so now we're taking advice from spirits. Fantastic." Zevran rolled his eyes. 

    "Yes, maybe we should listen to the spirit who could read minds."

    "Whatever the thing in the temple was," Alistair interrupted. "This isn't healthy. She helped me after Duncan died. We have to do the same for her."

     "You know that they take children away from mages, Alistair." Wynne said angrily. "That is not even remotely the same."

    "I know its not, I just--she's our friend. We owe it to her to help." 

   "Maybe. Or maybe she is owed her privacy." She stood and lifted the tent flap. "I want no part of this awful meddling. Goodnight."

    A tense silence fell over the group. Absurdly, Zevran found himself wishing for the Crows. No one gossiped or worried about feelings. No one had friends, just fellow assassins.

     Alistair turned to him. "Zev, I think you should talk to her."

    He crossed his arms. "You know, I haven't exactly had the best day either." He had fought a dragon today and been questioned about Rinna. He was tired and dirty and needed a drink.

     "So? Clara needs a friend right now."

    "And after all that talk of not deserving her, now you think I'm the best person? Why don't you go and be a 'friend'?"

    "Maker, will you get over yourself? Don't you care about her? Aren't you her friend? She's defended you and helped you when you needed it! I don't give a shit if you're uncomfortable with this, she needs help!" He took a deep breath and continued quietly. "Now I don't trust your intentions with her, but like it or not, she won't talk to me right not. All I'm asking is that you try."

    Zevran rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Fine."

     "Thank you." Lelianna said earnestly, grasping his hand.

     He brushed it off, exiting the tent quickly. Crossing the camp, he tried to force down the irritation bubbling in his chest. He ducked down into the tent he and Clara shared. 

    When he saw his lover, red-eyed and frowning, any festering feelings disappeared. He forced a smile.

    "My lovely Warden, I was just leaving for a late night bath. Care to join me?"

     She continued to unpack her bag, refusing to look up at him. "Not tonight, Zev."

    "Ah," he caught her hand and kissed it. "You disappoint me terribly. I shall be ever so lonely."

    "You'll survive." She said flatly. Zevran caught a faint curve of her lips and pressed on.

     "But the stream near camp is so cold." He pouted. "I was hoping..."

    She chuckled. "Really? Using me for my magic, now?"

    "Well, I'm sure I can think of some way to repay you." He pulled her closer and smiled. When she leaned into him, forehead against his, a warmth spread in his chest.

     "Hmm, alright."

     They gathered their supplies and walked out to the stream. Zevran talked the whole way there. He wasn't even sure about what, just nonsense to keep her distracted. When they finally sank into the water--only after Clara heated it--he fell silent. He didn't know how to start. How do you ask about something so private? So painful?

     Clara ducked under the water with a splash, interrupting his thoughts. She surfaced and began lathering herself with soap. He was suddenly struck by her beauty. Her blonde hair clung to her cheeks, darkened by the water. It's grown past her ears and needed cutting, but her messy locks framed her face perfectly. The sun had freckled her face and shoulders. Sinewy muscle rippled across her back, down the length of her long legs. He usually liked the curvier women, with bosom to spare and soft, curved stomachs. But Clara was skinny, taller than he was, and muscled. It excited him, in a completely new and unexpected way.     He caught himself and forced his attention elsewhere. Picking up his soap, he started scrubbing off all the dirt and dried blood coating his skin. There was a lot, and for a while it was quiet except for the splashing of the river. 

   When they were both done, Clara leaned back against the riverbank and sighed. "Thank you, Zev. I needed this."

   "Of course." He swam closer. "If you...if there is anything else you need, or desire, my Warden, you only have to ask."    Steam rose from the water, obscuring her face. She did not answer.    "I don't mean to pry," he said quickly, "I thought--perhaps you'd like to talk about it?" When she didn't respond, he winced. "I'm sorry, I--"    A hand grasped his under the water. "No, it's fine. I just--" She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "I've never talked about it."    A long silence. "Never?"    She shook her head. "Not even with Jowan. It was too much. In the Circle..." She paused. "Extreme emotion isn't exactly encouraged. We're taught it will attract demons. Whenever a mage is angry, or sad, or anything other than happy, the templars take more notice of you. One might follow you around. If it keeps happening, a senior enchanter has a talk with you. Not about the actual problem, of course. No, they'd remind you how good we had it in the Circle, how you shouldn't act up or you'd ruin it for the rest of them. I've gotten that talk a few times.    "So, if you have a problem, you just ignore it. Fake a smile and move on. But that's so stupid." Her breathing was uneven. Zevran could feel her hand shaking. "But now, I don't have to. I can be angry and everyone will just let me."    "You can feel however you want, mi amor. And you don't have to tell me if you don't wish to."    "I think I want to." She was squeezing his hand so hard it hurt.    He pulled her into his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist. Because of her height, it was an awkward fit, but she didn't seem to notice.       "I got pregnant. At seventeen." She squeezed her eyes shut. Underneath his hands, she tensed. "When I found out, I was--it was the worst day of my life. Everyone found out almost instantly. The--" She laughed wetly. "the morning sickness was pretty much impossible to hide."     "The father?" Zevran asked quietly.    "I thought I was in love with him. He was...my first kiss, my first everything. I never named him, and made him believe it was someone else's. No sense in him getting in trouble too."    "I had no friends after that, except for Jowan. Not that I cared. I don't think I talked to anyone else during my pregnancy." She paused, sniffling. "I thought about...the Circle had the herbs to, get rid of it. But I couldn't. Even knowing what would happen."     He tighten his grip on her.    "I didn't even get to hold him." Clara whispered. He could feel her tears running onto his neck and shoulder. She shook in his arm and all Zevran could do was hold on.