#Caradoc sands

[o-craven-canto]

  Evolution Langdon Smith (1858-1908)

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish   In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide   We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip   Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life,   For I loved you even then. Mindless we lived and mindless we loved   And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift   We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time,   The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death   And crept into life again. We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,   And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees   Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet   Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark   To hint at a life to come. Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,   And happy we died once more; Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold   Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled   And the sleep that wrapped us fast Was riven away in a newer day   And the night of death was passed. Then light and swift through the jungle trees   We swung in our airy flights, Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms   In the hush of the moonless nights; And oh! what beautiful years were there   When our hearts clung each to each; When life was filled and our senses thrilled   In the first faint dawn of speech. Thus life by life and love by love   We passed through the cycles strange, And breath by breath and death by death   We followed the chain of change. Till there came a time in the law of life   When over the nursing sod The shadows broke and the soul awoke   In a strange, dim dream of God. I was thewed like an Auroch bull   And tusked like the great cave bear; And you, my sweet, from head to feet   Were gowned in your glorious hair. Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave,   When the night fell o'er the plain And the moon hung red o'er the river bed   We mumbled the bones of the slain. I flaked a flint to a cutting edge   And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank   And fitted it, head and haft; Than I hid me close to the reedy tarn,   Where the mammoth came to drink; Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone   And slew him upon the brink. Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes,   Loud answered our kith and kin; From west to east to the crimson feast   The clan came tramping in. O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof   We fought and clawed and tore, And cheek by jowl with many a growl   We talked the marvel o'er. I carved that fight on a reindeer bone   With rude and hairy hand; I pictured his fall on the cavern wall   That men might understand. For we lived by blood and the right of might   Ere human laws were drawn, And the age of sin did not begin   Til our brutal tusks were gone. And that was a million years ago   In a time that no man knows; Yet here tonight in the mellow light   We sit at Delmonico's. Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,   Your hair is dark as jet, Your years are few, your life is new,   Your soul untried, and yet -- Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay   And the scarp of the Purbeck flags; We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones   And deep in the Coralline crags; Our love is old, our lives are old,   And death shall come amain; Should it come today, what man may say   We shall not live again? God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds   And furnish’d them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn,   And I know that it shall not die, Though cities have sprung above the graves   Where the crook-bone men made war And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves   Where the mummied mammoths are. Then as we linger at luncheon here   O'er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you   Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

[a-backlog-of-a-man]

Evolution, by Langdon Smith

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish   In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide   We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip   Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life,   For I loved you even then.

Mindless we lived and mindless we loved   And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift   We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time,   The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death   And crept into life again.

We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,   And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees   Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet   Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark   To hint at a life to come.

Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,   And happy we died once more; Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold   Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled   And the sleep that wrapped us fast Was riven away in a newer day   And the night of death was passed.

Then light and swift through the jungle trees   We swung in our airy flights, Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms   In the hush of the moonless nights; And oh! what beautiful years were there   When our hearts clung each to each; When life was filled and our senses thrilled   In the first faint dawn of speech.

Thus life by life and love by love   We passed through the cycles strange, And breath by breath and death by death   We followed the chain of change. Till there came a time in the law of life   When over the nursing sod The shadows broke and the soul awoke   In a strange, dim dream of God.

I was thewed like an Auroch bull   And tusked like the great cave bear; And you, my sweet, from head to feet   Were gowned in your glorious hair. Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave,   When the night fell o'er the plain And the moon hung red o'er the river bed   We mumbled the bones of the slain.

I flaked a flint to a cutting edge   And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank   And fitted it, head and haft; Than I hid me close to the reedy tarn,   Where the mammoth came to drink; Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone   And slew him upon the brink.

Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes,   Loud answered our kith and kin; From west to east to the crimson feast   The clan came tramping in. O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof   We fought and clawed and tore, And cheek by jowl with many a growl   We talked the marvel o'er.

I carved that fight on a reindeer bone   With rude and hairy hand; I pictured his fall on the cavern wall   That men might understand. For we lived by blood and the right of might   Ere human laws were drawn, And the age of sin did not begin   Til our brutal tusks were gone.

And that was a million years ago   In a time that no man knows; Yet here tonight in the mellow light   We sit at Delmonico's. Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,   Your hair is dark as jet, Your years are few, your life is new,   Your soul untried, and yet --

Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay   And the scarp of the Purbeck flags; We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones   And deep in the Coralline crags; Our love is old, our lives are old,   And death shall come amain; Should it come today, what man may say   We shall not live again?

God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds   And furnish’d them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn,   And I know that it shall not die, Though cities have sprung above the graves   Where the crook-bone men made war And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves   Where the mummied mammoths are.

Then as we linger at luncheon here   O'er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you   Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

[summer-2023]

EVOLUTION

(Langdon Smith, 1858 - 1908)

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish,

In the Paleozoic time,

And side by side, on the ebbing tide,

We sprawled through the ooze and slime,

Or skittered with many a caudal flip

Through the depths of the Cambrian fen,

My heart was rife with the joy of life,

For I loved you even then.

Mindless we lived and mindless we loved,

And mindless at last we died;

And deep in a rift of the Caradoc drift,

We slumbered side by side.

The world turned on in the lathe of Time,

The hot lands heaved again,

Till we caught our breath from the womb of death,

And crept into the light again.

We were Amphibians, scaled and tailed,

And drab as a dead man's hand:

We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees,

Or trailed through the mud and sand,

Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet

Writing a language dumb,

With never a spark in the empty dark

To hint at a life to come.

Yet happy we lived, and happy we loved

And happy we died once more,

Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold

Of a Neocomian shore

The aeons came, and the aeons fled,

And the sleep that wrapped us fast

Was riven away in a newer day,

And the night of death was past.

When light and swift through jungle trees

We swung our airy flights;

Or breathed in the balms of the fronted palms,

In the hush of moonless nights,

And oh! what beautiful years were these,

When our hearts clung each to each;

When life was filled and our senses thrilled

In the first faint dawn of speech!

Thus life by life, and love by love,

We passed through cycles strange;

And breath by breath, and death by death

We followed the chain of change;

Till there came a time in the law of life

When over the nursing sod

The shadows broke, and the soul awoke

In a strange, dim dream of God.

God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds

And furnished them wings to fly;

Through cities have sprung above the graves

Where the crook-boned men made war,

And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves

Where the mummies mammoths are.

For we know that the clod, by the grace of God,

Will quicken with voice and breath;

And we know that Love, with gentle hand,

Will beckon from death to death.

And so, as we linger at a luncheon here,

O'er many a dainty dish,

Let us drink anew to the time when you

Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

[oskarlevant]

Evolution By Langdon Smith (1858-1908)

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish

 In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide  We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip  Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life,  For I loved you even then.

Mindless we lived and mindless we loved  And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift  We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time,  The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death  And crept into life again.

We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,  And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees  Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet  Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark  To hint at a life to come.

Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,  And happy we died once more; Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold  Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled  And the sleep that wrapped us fast Was riven away in a newer day  And the night of death was passed.

Then light and swift through the jungle trees  We swung in our airy flights, Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms  In the hush of the moonless nights; And oh! what beautiful years were there  When our hearts clung each to each; When life was filled and our senses thrilled  In the first faint dawn of speech.

Thus life by life and love by love  We passed through the cycles strange, And breath by breath and death by death  We followed the chain of change. Till there came a time in the law of life  When over the nursing sod The shadows broke and the soul awoke  In a strange, dim dream of God.

I was thewed like an Auroch bull  And tusked like the great cave bear; And you, my sweet, from head to feet  Were gowned in your glorious hair. Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave,  When the night fell o'er the plain And the moon hung red o'er the river bed  We mumbled the bones of the slain.

I flaked a flint to a cutting edge  And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank  And fitted it, head and haft; Than I hid me close to the reedy tarn,  Where the mammoth came to drink; Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone  And slew him upon the brink.

Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes,  Loud answered our kith and kin; From west to east to the crimson feast  The clan came tramping in. O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof  We fought and clawed and tore, And cheek by jowl with many a growl  We talked the marvel o'er.

I carved that fight on a reindeer bone  With rude and hairy hand; I pictured his fall on the cavern wall  That men might understand. For we lived by blood and the right of might  Ere human laws were drawn, And the age of sin did not begin  Til our brutal tusks were gone.

And that was a million years ago  In a time that no man knows; Yet here tonight in the mellow light  We sit at Delmonico's. Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,  Your hair is dark as jet, Your years are few, your life is new,  Your soul untried, and yet --

Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay  And the scarp of the Purbeck flags; We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones  And deep in the Coralline crags; Our love is old, our lives are old,  And death shall come amain; Should it come today, what man may say  We shall not live again?

God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds  And furnish’d them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn,  And I know that it shall not die, Though cities have sprung above the graves  Where the crook-bone men made war And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves  Where the mummied mammoths are.

Then as we linger at luncheon here  O'er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you  Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

[raffaelexfiore]

"No, I've already decided on the frog. It's fitting; call it a personality thing." Raffaele said playfully, Catriel had some feline energy but his friend deserved better than living in a swamp or burying his shit in sand. "His name is Caradoc; you'll have to ask him." Witches and their secrets, Raffaele epitomized this. "This feels like an interrogation, I didn't know you were coming over to try and haul me in for questioning."

"I could be a cat." The frog dream seemed great until the eggs were mentioned, he didn't think he could take care of children, he doesn't even think he's particularly good at taking care of himself. "Sleep all day, perhaps catch some mice." Catriel takes a second to actually consider such a thing before deciding that it wouldn't really be fair to his roommates. "What's your familiar?" He asks as he goes back to adding just the tiniest bit of eyeliner to his lower waterline. "You've got one, right?" Didn't all witches? Wasn't that some big perk?

[danielmcquillanphotography]

Ashley + Taylor

Double dipped on this blog!  If anyone needs lessons on the ol’ dip kiss for their wedding day - I definitely recommend hollering at these two for lessons!

Wedding Photography at Caradoc Sands in Strathroy, ON by Strathroy Wedding Photography Daniel McQuillan Photography

[duskroots]

you know screw the canon “a sylvari who turned towards nightmare cannot ever return to the dream” nonsense, caradoc will reconnect with the dream eventually as part of his healing and growth process, fight me on that

[ashes-and-ashes]

Remus’ first xmas after That Halloween

Remind me to write something about the beach trip :)

~

Remus sits on the ground and watches the flames. He’s close, too close to the burning, the white-hot metal and the embers in the grate but he can’t move away. The heat feels good against his skin, scorching him until he didn’t have to think anymore.

The box lies between his folded legs, the lid still on. It’s too dark to see the words scrawled on the top, in black marker and ink but he knows what it says. Photos - Marauder Edition, and underneath that, in writing so familiar it made him want to cry, The Best Collection of Nudes Ever!

Remus grips the box, so hard his fingers press indents into the time-worn cardboard. He breathes in, deeply - the box smells like cologne, something warm and comforting, wrapping around him like a blanket. He’s paralyzed for a moment, spinning backwards into time before he grits his teeth and opens the box.

It’s full of photos - hundreds of them, all the smiling faces of people who would never grow old. Remus pulls them out carefully, with shaking fingers and a pounding heart, fingers slipping on the thin edges of old polaroids.

The first one he pulls out is labeled She said yes! in bright red ink, and loopy letters. Remus smiles to himself - Marlene, spinning Dorcas around, the ring on her finger nothing but a white speck against the graininess of the photo. He remembers standing there, smiling so widely it hurt; Dorcas’ shrieks and Marlene’s kisses, remembers the way Lily had snapped the picture half-bent over from laughing so much.

It’s been so long since they both died - he’s forgotten the colour of Marlene’s hair, the way Dorcas laughed, all crinkled eyes and open mouths. Remus stares at the photo, his heart hurting, sets it down carefully and pulls the next one out.

It’s like he’s been sucker punched. Remus closes his eyes, the agony rippling through him - James and Lily, her hair still so red even through the faded photograph, her dress white and flowing around her. They were all there - Him and Sirius, Peter and Marlene and Dorcas, Fabian, Gideon, Kingsley, Mary, Benjy, Caradoc and by god they all looked so young.

It‘s only been 2 years since their wedding, Remus remembers, 2 fucking years and he was the only one left alive in that photograph, him and Kingsley and -

Remus cuts the thought off viciously. Sirius was as good as dead to him.

He smiles as he sees the next bunch of photos; Benjy and Caradoc, half-asleep and curled up on the floor together, Lily Marlene and Dorcas caught mid-laugh, Fabian and Kingsley tangled on the couch with Gideon throwing grapes at them from the staircase.

He rolls his eyes at the docks, the one where they had all skipped school to go to the beach, the ocean impossibly blue even after all this time. He still remembers it, still remembers the feeling of hot sand underneath his toes, the cool spray of the water, holding his breath until he couldn’t stand it and then gasping in huge breaths of air. Lying on the beach with all of them, legs tangled and arms thrown around each other. Someone had brought a huge blanket and they wrapped themselves in it, all 12 of them, laughed and drank Firewhiskey and watched the sun go down. Everyone had gotten detention afterwards but Remus suspected McGonagall had gone easy on them - she assigned all of them to clean the greenhouse together which wasn’t half bad when eveyone was around.

He’s still smiling to himself as he sets the photograph aside, smiling so hard that it hurt. It killed him seeing all of them, so unaware of the death that was only months away. The box was full of ghosts, ones old and new and each face tore another hole through him.

When he pulls out the next photograph Remus crumples. He presses the photo against his chest, swallows to banish the slicing pain in his throat, cradles his stomach and finally lets out a choked noise.

He hated Sirius. That first month afterwards, after he knew Sirius was gone and he was all alone, that first month was the worst. He wanted to kill Sirius, wanted to tie him up and take him apart like he used to so long ago, break him open and tear him to shreds. He knew he could do it, reduce Sirius to nothing, use every secret he’d ever shared and wrench him apart. He drove himself mad thinking about it sometimes, consumed by bitterness and rage.

It’s been almost 2 months now. He still hated Sirius, hated him so much sometimes he felt like he couldn’t breathe. But as Remus stared at the photo, all he could think about was what they used to be, all those years ago.

It’s of them. Him and Sirius, their faces lit up by the candles strung all over the common room. Christmas, it read, 1977, and Remus looks at it and nearly chokes.

He remembers Sirius when he used to be like this, before the war sharpened him into blades of steel. His hair was soft, curls of black reaching down past his chin, that beautiful smile Remus would never see again on his lips. He sees himself wrapped up around him, wearing that hideous sweater that Sirius used to steal, his head pillowed against Sirius’ neck and Remus wants to cry at the utter trust that he had in Sirius, the utter faith that they’d make it through.

Did Sirius know, back then, nestled against each other under the light of a thousand candles? Did he know that he was going to betray James, betray Lily, get himself locked up in Azkaban?

He couldn’t have, Remus decides, as he studies Sirius’ face. There was too much love in this photo, etched into every line, the way Sirius’ fingers curled around Remus’ cheek, the way he smiled down at Remus’ sleeping body. Strange how this was only 3 years ago. Strange how fast everything could go to shit.

Remus grips the photo, so tightly he thinks he might rip it. He wants to fall into it, fall back into Sirius’ arms, relive those years at Hogwarts over and over again and Remus hates himself, hates himself for still wanting Sirius but he can’t help it.

He remembers the last night he saw Sirius, the last time he woke up and was able to touch him. Sirius was beautiful - he always was, all long lines of marble and swaths of gold and silk. “I love you,” Remus had told him, and Sirius smiled and said, “Me too.”

Even now looking back Remus couldn’t believe it was a lie. It must have been though. He didn’t know how Sirius could fake it, that absolute glow in his eyes, the way he fought tooth-and-nail to keep them all alive. Everything didn’t make sense, rubbing together like broken shards of glass and yet James and Lily and Peter were dead and Sirius was gone and Remus was left alone again.

He knows he’s crying, tears rubbing down his face but he can’t stop himself. Remus lets the photo fall to the ground, too close to the roaring fire, curls up and sobs as the clock strikes 12 and his first Christmas without anyone began.

[sylvari-bouquet]

40 for Papadoc? 💖

Caradoc belongs to @duskroots 💖💖💖

The desert day was quickly turning into night, warmth of the sand escaping to the starlight sky. The Sun’s Refuge had been mostly emptied out of the cobwebs and giant spiders, and the mixed group of people and awakened, sunspears and pact soldiers were setting up the camp for the night. Each group was wary of each other and the threat of the Brand, and the tension hang thick inside. Papaver had escaped the uncomfortable situation outside, and in doing so they saw a familiar face, one they had actually been planning on searching that evening.

Caradoc was sitting on the ledge before the pond, staring in to the water and lazily ruffling the leaves of his nightmare hound, Bud.

"May I join you?" Papaver asked, and after a nod from Caradoc, they plopped down next to the two. They and Caradoc had been having a kind of a routine, that every evening the one would seek out the other and then they would talk. About anything, nothing, and everything in between, far into the night. Papaver had been glad to notice how the other sylvari, who had been distand and kept his barriers up suring their first meeting, had been opening up to them, and nowadays they spoke almost like they had known each other for years. But today, talking wasn't everything Papaver wanted to do. They took out a small set of metallic rods, that hang on a wire. It wasn't elaboratily designed, but the finishing on the rods was smooth, and in Papaver's mind, pretty good considering their limited supplies on the go. The desert breeze played a light song as the windchime swayed.

“I made this for you. You know, as a thanks for keeping me company a while back" Papaver said, and gave the windchime to Caradoc.

"It's for me? It's beautiful", Caradoc held the decoration carefully to examine it, and asked again: "Are you certain about giving this to me?"

"Yes, of course", Papaver answered with a grin, "I saw some of these back in Amnoon and I thought you'd like one. Never got around buying one, so this is the next best thing."

"Thank you, I will treasure this", Caradoc smiled back, and for a moment, Papaver forgot how to breathe.

***

Many months later, they were building a place, together. In Caledon Forest, of all places. It felt strange to come back to the beautiful, lush jungle after all the years and memories, blessed and the painful. Emptying out one of Caradoc's boxes, they noticed a familiar metallic object inside.

"Wait, you still have this old thing?" Papaver asked and held the windchime up. They tinkled loudly and cheerily in the still bare home.

Next to Papaver, Caradoc looked up from the box he had been occupied with, and answered: "Of course I do. It was one of the first gifts I got from you. Although, being here with you is the greatest gift I could imagine."

Caradoc chuckled, and to Papaver, it was as beautiful as the windchimes. They laughed too, and answered: "You big flirt. Come here, I have a new gift for you."

They both closed the distance between their lips, and they felt like home again.

[oeillade]

Getting ready for travel but time enough to get off some letters, send part of the Tib salmon to Lightcliffe, and to read an interesting article by Frédéric Cuvier, French zoologist, paleontologist and younger brother of our friend Georges Cuvier.

1824 August Tuesday 10

7 1/4

12 1/2

Gave Hotspur oatmeal and water — wrote the ends of my letter to Mariana, and a little after 8, sent off this letter to Mariana ‘Mrs. Briscoe’s Hotel Parkgate, Neston Cheshire’ — and my letter written yesterday but dated today’ à Madame de Boyve, Place Vendôme 24 à Paris’ — Skimmed over the 1st 16 pages (article 19) and from page 241 to 249 no. 2 Zoological Journal at breakfast at 9 50/60 — wrote a little note to Mrs. William Priestley, Lightcliffe, with a piece (about the 1/2 of one side of a fish) of the dried salmon Isabella Norcliffe sent — skimmed article from page 249 to 264 no. 2 Zoological Journal — went out at 11 1/4 for an hour to give Jackman directions about altering some of the steps in Lower brea wood and raising the new foot path at the bottom of the wood and across the Tilly holm — Mending my gloves, etc. — From 1 to near 4, wrote 3 pages and the ends and under the seal, and thus finished my letter to Miss Marsh dated it tomorrow giving her some account of our journey and mentioning my going to Paris and that my address after the 20th instant would be chez nous de Boyve, Place Vendôme 24 in Paris, where I hoped to be on the 1st of next month — At 4 went down to see Gill the farrier dress Caradoc’s toe he bled on Saturday and look at Hotspur’s feet — all going on well — At 5 sat down to dinner, meaning to go to Lightcliffe this evening — but a few drops of rain with likelihood for more prevented me — came upstairs therefore at 6 — (Mr. Sunderland here — called to see my aunt — very much better today — I did not see him) — From 6 to 8 1/4 wrote 3 pages the ends and under the seal to Mr. Duffin — dated as tomorrow — expressing my hope to be in Paris (mentioning where, as tomorrow 3 weeks and the wish that Mr. Duffin could have gone with me — some account of our Lake-excursion, — of Dr. Belcombe and their adventure on the sands — begging Mr. Duffin ‘when you see Mrs. Belcombe, ‘do give my love to them all, and best thanks to her for her letter, and do say I would write, but am really so hurried ‘getting sheds and foot paths finished, making a few traveling memoranda, etc. etc. that I have scarce a moment to spare — ‘and five letters still hang over me, yet I must write before I go’ — wrote one page pretty small and close to Miss Henrietta Crompton — and went down to coffee at 9 1/2 — Fine day — the few drops of rain between 5 and 6 were merely a few drops and no more and I might have gone to Lightcliffe well enough — Mr. Sunderland drank tea with my uncle and aunt but I did not see him at all — Barometer 1 1/2 degree below changeable Fahrenheit 59° at 10 1/2 pm at which hour came up to bed —35 minutes reading from page 153 to 174 volume 1 Zoological Journal, excellent analysis of the opinion of Dr. Fleming and Monsieur Frédéric Cuvier on the nature of instinct.

[fatal-flaws-aflame]

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish  In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide  We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip  Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life,  For I loved you even then.

Mindless we lived and mindless we loved  And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift  We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time,  The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death  And crept into life again.

We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,  And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees  Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet  Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark  To hint at a life to come.

... (link above)

[inunsulliedlight]

Evolution

 Evolution

 By Langdon Smith (1858-1908)

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish  In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide  We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip  Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life,  For I loved you even then.

Mindless we lived and mindless we loved  And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift  We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time,  The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death  And crept into life again.

We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,  And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees  Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet  Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark  To hint at a life to come.

Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,  And happy we died once more; Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold  Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled  And the sleep that wrapped us fast Was riven away in a newer day  And the night of death was passed.

Then light and swift through the jungle trees  We swung in our airy flights, Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms  In the hush of the moonless nights; And oh! what beautiful years were there  When our hearts clung each to each; When life was filled and our senses thrilled  In the first faint dawn of speech.

Thus life by life and love by love  We passed through the cycles strange, And breath by breath and death by death  We followed the chain of change. Till there came a time in the law of life  When over the nursing sod The shadows broke and the soul awoke  In a strange, dim dream of God.

I was thewed like an Auroch bull  And tusked like the great cave bear; And you, my sweet, from head to feet  Were gowned in your glorious hair. Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave,  When the night fell o'er the plain And the moon hung red o'er the river bed  We mumbled the bones of the slain.

I flaked a flint to a cutting edge  And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank  And fitted it, head and haft; Than I hid me close to the reedy tarn,  Where the mammoth came to drink; Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone  And slew him upon the brink.

Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes,  Loud answered our kith and kin; From west to east to the crimson feast  The clan came tramping in. O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof  We fought and clawed and tore, And cheek by jowl with many a growl  We talked the marvel o'er.

I carved that fight on a reindeer bone  With rude and hairy hand; I pictured his fall on the cavern wall  That men might understand. For we lived by blood and the right of might  Ere human laws were drawn, And the age of sin did not begin  Til our brutal tusks were gone.

And that was a million years ago  In a time that no man knows; Yet here tonight in the mellow light  We sit at Delmonico's. Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,  Your hair is dark as jet, Your years are few, your life is new,  Your soul untried, and yet --

Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay  And the scarp of the Purbeck flags; We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones  And deep in the Coralline crags; Our love is old, our lives are old,  And death shall come amain; Should it come today, what man may say  We shall not live again?

God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds  And furnish’d them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn,  And I know that it shall not die, Though cities have sprung above the graves  Where the crook-bone men made war And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves  Where the mummied mammoths are.

Then as we linger at luncheon here  O'er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you  Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

[thetinybutimportantthings]

Evolution

 By Langdon Smith (1858-1908)

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish  In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide  We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip  Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life,  For I loved you even then.

Mindless we lived and mindless we loved  And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift  We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time,  The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death  And crept into life again.

We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,  And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees  Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet  Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark  To hint at a life to come.

Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,  And happy we died once more; Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold  Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled  And the sleep that wrapped us fast Was riven away in a newer day  And the night of death was passed.

Then light and swift through the jungle trees  We swung in our airy flights, Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms  In the hush of the moonless nights; And oh! what beautiful years were there  When our hearts clung each to each; When life was filled and our senses thrilled  In the first faint dawn of speech.

Thus life by life and love by love  We passed through the cycles strange, And breath by breath and death by death  We followed the chain of change. Till there came a time in the law of life  When over the nursing sod The shadows broke and the soul awoke  In a strange, dim dream of God.

I was thewed like an Auroch bull  And tusked like the great cave bear; And you, my sweet, from head to feet  Were gowned in your glorious hair. Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave,  When the night fell o'er the plain And the moon hung red o'er the river bed  We mumbled the bones of the slain.

I flaked a flint to a cutting edge  And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank  And fitted it, head and haft; Than I hid me close to the reedy tarn,  Where the mammoth came to drink; Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone  And slew him upon the brink.

Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes,  Loud answered our kith and kin; From west to east to the crimson feast  The clan came tramping in. O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof  We fought and clawed and tore, And cheek by jowl with many a growl  We talked the marvel o'er.

I carved that fight on a reindeer bone  With rude and hairy hand; I pictured his fall on the cavern wall  That men might understand. For we lived by blood and the right of might  Ere human laws were drawn, And the age of sin did not begin  Til our brutal tusks were gone.

And that was a million years ago  In a time that no man knows; Yet here tonight in the mellow light  We sit at Delmonico's. Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,  Your hair is dark as jet, Your years are few, your life is new,  Your soul untried, and yet --

Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay  And the scarp of the Purbeck flags; We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones  And deep in the Coralline crags; Our love is old, our lives are old,  And death shall come amain; Should it come today, what man may say  We shall not live again?

God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds  And furnish’d them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn,  And I know that it shall not die, Though cities have sprung above the graves  Where the crook-bone men made war And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves  Where the mummied mammoths are.

Then as we linger at luncheon here  O'er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you  Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

@courtnashe Since you posted a partial version of this earlier.

[requiescatinpacerp]

Keep going, difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations.

Caradoc Dearborn

Age: 23

Affiliation: Order

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Career: Healer

Wand:  11 inch, Hawthorn Wood, Unicorn hair core

The whistle of air over a game cartridge, the smell of cinnamon in coffee, whipped cream melting over hot apple pie, snapping branches and splitting wood, pine needles and snow, light flashing over a comic page, blanket forts and secret passwords, fuzzy blankets, rain on a tin roof, sea salt in the air, sand falling between fingertips, kitten purrs, sunlight through clouds, mechanical whirring.

The meeting of the Dearborn's was fateful. Caradoc's grandfather was an avid participant in protests. During the Winter of Discontent, he took his son to the largest protest in the city. It was not far from one of the many entrances to the magical world. While Devon sat away from the people with another group of children, he watched as people walked into a phone booth and disappeared. He assumed it had something to do with the government, and maybe it was some secret entrance to one of their buildings. An hour had passed, and the other children sat still as they too watched the goings of the mysterious people in the phone booth. That was when he saw her, a young girl, perhaps only two years his senior, walking alongside her mother. He stood immediately and stared quite openly at her as a feeling of certainty washed over him. He would marry that girl. Their eyes locked from across the street and she smiled, and he fell in love. As he grew older, he planned his entire schooling career around how he could work closer to that exact location in the hopes that maybe they'd meet again. And soon enough, they did. He was eighteen, she was twenty, and he asked her to dinner. Within a year, they were married. Thirteen years later, they finally had Caradoc. Cardi was sorted into Hufflepuff. It came as no surprise to his mother, considering her entire family line had been Hufflepuffs. He'd always been an outgoing and open child, always open to experiencing and trying new things. This landed him in a variety of friendships through all the houses. He was notoriously easy-going, and kind to everyone he encountered. His grades were relatively good, and what he struggled in he simply sought out tutoring from whomever offered it. He'd always been a bit skeptical of Divintation, but a study group in his fifth year changed his mind on the matter entirely. Perhaps it was the kind girl who helped him understand the meaning behind looking to the stars- or maybe it was the moment he'd looked at her and just knew they had more ahead of them than a study group at Hogwarts. Sybill had certainly taken him for a whirlwind, and when he'd told his parents about her, they gave each other a look of satisfaction. Caradoc had never been shy, but when it came to Trelwaney, he stammered over words and became increasingly nervous. It didn't help that the Carrows were involved in her life at the time- even though he had no idea what was going on between Amycus and Sybill. Never-the-less, he asked her to have tea with him in Sixth year, and it was fate from there. Upon careful consideration, Caradoc chose to be a healer when he graduated. He attended University for a few months before deciding that muggle schooling would do him no good. He took up an internship at St. Mungos and cared for the people no one wanted to visit anymore. The ones who were deemed unfit for society, those who had been tortured or otherwise. He'd often been asked by people not in the field how he handled seeing the dredges of war so openly and still be able to smile. It wasn't an easy feat, for sure, but he knew he needed to keep a cheery disposition or else he'd get pulled under as well. About a year and half into his career, Dumbledore approached him with an offer to join the war, and he couldn't find it in himself to decline. Caradoc is the field healer for the Order. It is something he takes very seriously- even leaving his position at Mungos to ensure that those injured are fixed as soon as possible.

SYBILL TRELWANEY – Caradoc adores everything about Sybill, even though he knows she’s hiding something big from the people around her. He values her input and presence and takes a great comfort in having her around.

AMELIA BONES – Lia is like a bright burning flame that never goes out, and Cardi knows if he ever needs someone to push him forward and keep him going, it’s her.

RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE – Caradoc had never thought he could be terrified of anyone. but the eldest Lestrange makes him chilled to the bone. Something about the man had always put him on edge and he knows that he is not one to be crossed.

Caradoc Dearborn is an TAKEN character with a FC of Alberto Rosende.

[randomthoughtsfromskitty999]

Evolution When you were a tadpole and I was a fish  In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide  We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip  Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life,  For I loved you even then. Mindless we lived and mindless we loved  And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift  We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time,  The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death  And crept into life again. We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,  And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees  Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet  Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark  To hint at a life to come. Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,  And happy we died once more; Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold  Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled  And the sleep that wrapped us fast Was riven away in a newer day  And the night of death was passed. Then light and swift through the jungle trees  We swung in our airy flights, Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms  In the hush of the moonless nights; And oh! what beautiful years were there  When our hearts clung each to each; When life was filled and our senses thrilled  In the first faint dawn of speech. Thus life by life and love by love  We passed through the cycles strange, And breath by breath and death by death  We followed the chain of change. Till there came a time in the law of life  When over the nursing sod The shadows broke and the soul awoke  In a strange, dim dream of God. I was thewed like an Auroch bull  And tusked like the great cave bear; And you, my sweet, from head to feet  Were gowned in your glorious hair. Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave,  When the night fell o'er the plain And the moon hung red o'er the river bed  We mumbled the bones of the slain. I flaked a flint to a cutting edge  And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank  And fitted it, head and haft; Than I hid me close to the reedy tarn,  Where the mammoth came to drink; Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone  And slew him upon the brink. Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes,  Loud answered our kith and kin; From west to east to the crimson feast  The clan came tramping in. O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof  We fought and clawed and tore, And cheek by jowl with many a growl  We talked the marvel o'er. I carved that fight on a reindeer bone  With rude and hairy hand; I pictured his fall on the cavern wall  That men might understand. For we lived by blood and the right of might  Ere human laws were drawn, And the age of sin did not begin  Til our brutal tusks were gone. And that was a million years ago  In a time that no man knows; Yet here tonight in the mellow light  We sit at Delmonico's. Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,  Your hair is dark as jet, Your years are few, your life is new,  Your soul untried, and yet -- Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay  And the scarp of the Purbeck flags; We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones  And deep in the Coralline crags; Our love is old, our lives are old,  And death shall come amain; Should it come today, what man may say  We shall not live again? God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds  And furnish’d them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn,  And I know that it shall not die, Though cities have sprung above the graves  Where the crook-bone men made war And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves  Where the mummied mammoths are. Then as we linger at luncheon here  O'er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you  Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

By Langdon Smith (1858-1908)

[vanciful]

Creature Comforts || Open Starter

Pale toes pressed into the space between the couch cushions, as fingers weaved around the sturdy china mug and Emmeline Vance tried very hard not to think about anything. Missing isn’t dead, she silently repeated for the umpteenth time that evening as her eyes stared absently at the television set in the corner of her cosy living room. The Muggle news was on. Four people injured and one found dead in Belfast that morning. Found dead. Like the passive made the blow any less painful to whoever the poor sod’s family was. She changed the channel. 

They were all working overtime at the Prophet, working overtime everywhere according to her friends in the Ministry. Just trying to keep up with the chaos that was getting its dirty fingers into the fabric of magical society and tugging, hard. People didn’t want to notice, of course they didn’t but people were going missing, had been going missing for years and the world was burying their collective head in the sand. It was infuriating.

Caradoc had been the last straw, for Emmeline, and writing up the article in yesterday’s paper had damn near killed her. She had owled HQ, said that work was going to keep her away for a couple of days but she’d be sleuthing to find some info on Dearborn. And she was, work hardly noticing that this time it was different, that it was personal. 

The knock at the door startled her, as the hairs on her arms stood on end. It wouldn’t be the first time a journalist had been accosted at home. People got nasty when they were desperate, and Emmeline for whatever reason had become one of the faces of the Prophet. Owls were coming in almost once a week, begging her to help find a missing person; mum, dad, sister. Like she was a detective and not just the person who mopped up the murder scene at the end of the day. 

The redhead looked down at herself as she got to her feet, taking in her appearance. The oversized tshirt, one of her brothers’, went down to her knees. And the worn sleeping pants were ones she had gotten in her third year at Hogwarts, the bottom of each leg scuffed and torn. Emmeline shrugged, set down her mug and moved towards the door. 

Her house, a small cottage in the Cotwolds (because who could really afford to rent in London?) was protected by several wards that she and other Order members had erected not too long ago so she was fairly certain it was friend and not foe knocking, but she grabbed her wand for good measure. “Constant vigilance,” she mumbled to herself, Moody’s voice in her head, clear as a bell. Man, that guy was paranoid.

Opening the door to the chill, crisp summer night, Emmeline found herself grinning at her unexpected guest on the stoop. “Isn’t 11pm a little late for a social visit?” She found herself asking, even as she stood aside to let the person in question in. “Tea?”