#and saying woe upon me i want to die and also cut off my father

[immortalsins]

actually going to fail my course this time fr

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

May I have a scenario/imagine, whichever makes more sense, of Trey, Rook, and Crewel trying to tame some sort of wild, magical invasive species of Poison Ivy that has taken over the greenhouse?

Crewel gives me perpetually disappointed wine aunt father vibes. This piece also lowkey turned out to be Trey x Rook, but you didn’t read that from me.

This imagine’s longer than my usual 1k word self-imposed limit, since it goes out to a friend of mine that’s been supporting me through final projects and exams. I’m not sure if they’d want me tagging them so publicly, but they know who they are.

Imagine this...

To Professor Crewel’s chagrin, members of the Science Club had never had strong academic intent. In actuality, the club was a thinly veiled excuse to bake cakes (just to find the perfect ratio of leaveners and sweeteners!) and to stalk watch students in their natural habitats (nothing wrong with an impromptu observational study, right?). Instead of test tubes and beakers, the lab benches were littered with cake pans and photographs of unsuspecting Savanaclaw students.

“I do wish you two would take this club more seriously,” Crewel would often gripe, fingers massaging his temples. “Science is not a play thing, it is a powerful tool with which we can use to redefine and reshape the world around us.”

Such were the woes of an instructor--but today, he had no time to lament.

Crewel’s jaw tightened as he gazed upon a sprawling mess--the shattered glass panes of the Botanical Garden, with massive stalks of ivy reaching for the skies. Casualties lined the ground--plants and flowers drained dry of their life, all withered and decayed. The ivy writhed in glee.

(He shouldn’t have been surprised that the headmaster summoned him and the Science Club to resolve the issue instead of hiring a real exterminator.)

“How unseemly,” Crewel noted, clicking his tongue. “Running amok and ruining so many of the specimens we’ve carefully cultivated... This shall not go unpunished.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Clover.”

“Yes.” Trey stepped forward, his magical pen ready.

“Hunt.”

“Oui.” Rook followed suit, smoothly drawing forth his own pen.

“The time has come to prove your mettle,” Crewel announced, rapping his pointer against his palm. His onyx eyes seethed with a quiet, controlled rage. “Show this overgrown weed what the Science Club is truly capable of.”

At his command, the boys nodded and tore off toward the Botanical Garden.

Crewel held his ground. The corners of his mouth curled into a condescending smirk as he addressed the poison ivy. “Come here.”

An arm of ivy flew at him, so fast that it was but a blur.

An alive, but livid, blur.

“Heel!”

A column of fire erupted from Crewel’s pointer. His attack slammed against the plant, settings its leaves awash in embers. The rogue plant let out a sky-splitting roar.

The battle had just begun.

Trey ducked under an arc of burning ivy and threw open the door to the Botanical Garden. Tucking his limbs in, he barreled through right as more ivy snaked in to seal off the entrance once more.

He could feel the heat upon his back, the earth quaking under his feet, and Rook close behind him--yet he willed himself to keep his eyes glued ahead, even as he launched across the threshold and into a terrifying new realm.

The inside of the greenhouse now glistened with ivy--covering the glass panes, slowly strangling what few plants remained. The Botanical Garden had always been warm before, but it was unusually so today. Sweltering, and almost so humid that the floors and walls seem to eerily pulsate with life.

“Keep your wits about you, and don’t look back, boys,” Crewel had instructed them. “Just get in there, and cut it off at its source--at the heart.”

Trey’s eyes darted this way and that. Green, green, green. It all looked the same to him. Where in the world was the point of origin?

“Got any ideas?!” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner--and his protective goggles nearly went askew.

Rook had dropped to one knee, pressing a gloved hand against the floor--now a carpet of vines. “Hoooh! What a fascinating specimen!” he marveled. “Such destructive power, and yet it also sports this emerald sheen... Très manifique!”

“H-Hey... No offense, but I don’t think now’s the time to stop and sniff the roses. Or, well. I guess it would be ivy in this case.”

“Non, non! There is always time for beauty--even in dire situations!” Rook insisted, his hands continuing to grope around. His eyes suddenly creased, and his smile turned sly. “Ah, te voilà.”

“Even if you say that, that’s not going to help us fix this...!!”

“Calm yourself, Chevalier des Roses,” Rook advised with an airy laugh. He cupped a hand to his ear and beamed. “Listen closely! Surely even your own heart beckons you to still your worries.”

“Heart?” Trey straightened, adamant as he folded his arms. “Sorry, but I just don’t believe in stuff like that. Come on, Rook. We need to focus--Crewel-sensei’s trusting us with this task.”

He cast a concerned glance at the doorway, ensnared in vines. They’d have to blast their way through later--but if they stayed in this space for too long, they, too, would soon be drained of all their life force. “We can’t just mess around!”

“Ah--but you must put your faith in me as well, Chevalier des Roses!” Rook insisted, pointing to the patch of floor that he had been not-too-subtly groping earlier. “I implore you to lend me your strength!”

“You want me to attack the gr--?!” Trey froze mid-sentence. He had become vaguely aware of a gentle sensation creeping around his ankles.

In an instant, he was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like a useless rag doll. Blood rushed to his head, and his surroundings spun.

“Chevalier des Roses!!”

“I’m fine!! I-I’m fine!” Trey called--though he clearly wasn’t. “I can just--” He waved his magical pen, the air growing tense as a small ball of fire collected at his command.

“Non!” Rook warned, startling his classmate. “There is nothing to cushion your descent, mon amie! You will surely break a leg--and certainly not in the theatrical sense!”

He’s right. Trey’s fire extinguished itself, replaced by a chill crawling down his spine.

“A little help then?!”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You would give me your trust?”

“Not exactly like I have any other choice.” Trey would shrug, but it was a rather difficult motion to pull off while suspended midair--and far more troublesome, his veins ran cold. It was a sure sign of the ivy sapping his energy.

“Have no fear! Today, it shall be my turn to be the chevalier.” The hunter grinned from ear to ear, magical pen in hand.

“Please, Rook! Any day now--before I become plant food!” Trey’s voice was hoarse--from exasperation, or from the magical ivy, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“Just for today, I shall be your Chevalier D’amour.”

And with a confident wink, Rook plunged the ivy-covered floor into a sea of flames.

The accursed plant wailed as it shriveled to ash upon a backdrop of billowing smoke. Embers flickered and danced in the afternoon, the Botanical Garden set ablaze. Crewel took a step back, grimacing at the growing fire.

A figure emerged from the greenhouse, carrying another. The professor squinted into the smoke, pinpointing the familiar outline of his Science Club members--Rook, cradling a pale-looking Trey in his strong arms.

“Puppies.” Crewel pinched his temples.

“C’est chose faite--it is now done.” The brim of Rook’s hat eclipsed his eyes, making the typically cheery hunter appear dark to match his tone. Then he lifted his head, basking in the sunshine, and that somber moment was over. “All is well and good again, as it should be!”

“I... I thought I was going to die,” Trey groaned. “... And Rook, I appreciate you catching my fall, but you didn’t need to carry me out like you’re an action hero in a movie or something.”

“Are you able to still stand after an attack from that heinous plant?”

“Yeah. Just put me down.”

“Oui.”

Trey stood on shaky legs--and instinctively leaned on Rook’s shoulder.

“Well, boys. You’ve exterminated the ivy--as well as just about every other plant in the Botanical Garden. How exactly do you intend to atone for this?!” Crewel snapped, whipping his pointer at his students. “I believe my instructions were quite clear--destroy only the heart of the ivy.”

“The fault lies with me, Monsieur,” Rook declared, dipping into a bow. “We dallied for longer than was necessary, and in a moment of panic, I unleashed my magic.”

“Always one with a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, that will not serve you well in detention, Hunt.”

“Wait. Crewel-sensei, that’s not the whole story,” Trey interrupted. “Rook got me out of a pinch--and he deserves credit for that. He’s also the one that found out where the ivy’s heart was--buried in the floor itself. I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

The professor’s lips pursed into a straight line. “Clover, are you confessing to your own negligence?”

“I am.” He nodded firmly. “I’m the one that deserves the detention.”

“Trey-kun is not responsible!” Rook protested. “He is the one that attempted to set us on the right path. I refused to heed his advice, which led to events escalating.”

“I didn’t listen to Rook when he tried to tell me about what I needed to do.”

“I should have phrased it more concisely.”

“You--”

“Trey-kun--”

“Enough. It is clear to me that both of you contributed to this chaos.” Crewel sighed. “... Hunt, take Clover to the infirmary. I will put out the fire myself.

“... Are you letting us go?”

“Of course not. Once you’ve recovered, Clover... you boys will be restoring plants in the Botanical Garden for the remainder of the semester as punishment.”

“Ahhh, I should’ve known. Riddle’s not gonna like this at all.”

“Chin up, Chevalier des Roses! At the very least, we shall have each other’s company!” Rook laughs, smacking Trey on the back and sending his peer nearly doubling over.

Crewel sighed once more--he was disappointed, but not surprised.

His Science Club puppies still had a long way to go.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Oktoberfest Effect

Author: @alliswell21​

Prompt: Town boys (drunk?) dare each other to venture into woods (Halloween night? [Oktoberfest]). Katniss saves Peeta (from peacekeepers? storm?) by pulling him into a cave for the night. (Drunk Peeta talks too much and is cuddly?) [submitted by @567inpanem​] 

Rating: Teen (for drunkenness)

Author’s Note: Thank you to @mandelion82 for lending me her beta services, and being a generally awesome cheerleader! Thank you @567inpanem for the prompt, I hope it brings you joy! Thank y’all for reading! 

Oktoberfest, originally from Munich, Germany, is a two week folkloric festival, celebrated between the third Sunday of September and the first Sunday of October. Copious amounts of beer get served worldwide to celebrate Oktoberfest…👀this fic doesn’t reflected the cultural richness of the festival and or what it represents!👀

Tags: In Panem AU; No Games AU; Not representative of Oktoberfest; Drunken Shenanigans; Thunder storms; Snarky!Everlark; Humor; Blink-and-you-Miss-it fluff. One Shot.

———————

Oktoberfest is one of my least favorite festivals in the small repertory of celebrations my District is allowed. 

It’s usually held in the beginning of October, after the first showers of Fall, and tends to last all day long, severely cutting into my hunting time in the woods, which comprises the bulk of my family’s livelihood. My mother is a healer, but people used to struggle to pay for her services back in the day, so she stopped charging anyone; people gave her what they could: rations, produce from their squalid gardens, old clothes and such. You’d think people would pay with coins, now that things have improved for common folks, but some habits die hard.

It’s probably the same reason we keep observing a holiday that’s real meaning has been lost to Panem since before the Dark Days; people just know that at some point, Oktoberfest was celebrated around this time, and people ate and drank ale by the bucketfuls, so that’s what they do today. 

By the same token, it’s the most popular festivity in District 12, since it’s the only day of the year in which drinking is sanctioned and even encouraged by the higher-ups of government. Trains come carrying ale, spiked ciders, and even hard liquor for the celebration. People like Ms. Ripper, who sells moonshine and white liquor in our black market, better known as The Hob, have free range to sell their wares openly, without suffering repercussions. 

The meek, dull denizens of District 12 drink the spirits by the gallons, just for the one day, and pass out in the most unseemly places around town, like savages. If something had become clear to me with the passing years, it’s that people tend to enjoy drunkenness to soothe their woes away, so it’s natural everyone embraces Oktoberfest.

But, as with everything, things aren’t as bleak as I tend to see them myself.

“Katniss!” My sister, Prim, calls breathlessly from the maypole circle, beckoning me over with one hand, while holding a bright, yellow ribbon in her other, “There still are a few ribbons left!” She shouts excitedly, her meaning plain: she wants me to join in the festivities.

Normally I’d shy away from any and all activities that would have me interacting directly with the townsfolk. It’s nothing personal against them, I’m just not used to being touched by anyone, except for my family, and weaving ribbons around the maypole practically ensures I’d be brushing up against any number of strangers …but, there are worse games to play, and I could never deny my sister anything, not even this. 

I make my way to Prim and reluctantly snatch up a pale blue ribbon from the ground. My sister’s smile is so bright I almost relax when the music starts, and the dancers take to moving in and out around the pole. 

It isn’t as bad as I was dreading it to be. The music is lively; the fiddler follows the dancers while the rest of the band plays on the makeshift stage a few feet away, and the pole is relatively short and moderately wide, so we make quick work of braiding a pretty pattern in one go. Also, people are at a respectable distance from one another, and most everyone feels as awkward around me as I feel around them, so they just give a wide berth when they pass me by.

Prim and I are laughing when the song comes to an end, and we take a minute to admire the pole’s multicolored design. 

There’s a line of smiling people waiting in the fringes to take the ribbons the opposite direction to unravel them and weave them together again. 

I pull Prim into a hug and kiss her blonde head, fondly. “Let’s give somebody else a turn, Little Duck.” Prim narrows her eyes just a smidge; she’s almost 16 and doesn’t appreciate the nickname as much anymore. “Let’s put some warm apple cider into you, yes?” 

Joy returns to her baby blues immediately. “Yes! We should go find Mother as well!” she says excitedly. 

“Let’s go then!” 

After finding our mother in the crowd, and haggling over three cups of cider and one bag of boiled peanuts, our mother suggests we go home early, before the party gets rowdy. 

An unfortunate byproduct of Oktoberfest with all the unchecked drinking is men get loud, bold and stupid. Better to clear out before that happens, because while crimes aren’t tolerated— under the influence or sober—people tend to get belligerent when alcohol is involved. 

President Snow died years ago, when I was Prim’s age. Many things changed drastically, like the abolishment of the Hunger Games, and a slightly better salary for miners, but the seemingly tolerant new government of Panem gives men a strange leave to criticize the Capitol while drunk…which technically, is still a crime in today’s Panem, just not as mortally dangerous anymore. Still, women try to haul their spouses home before they can say something incriminating and land themselves in prison.

Nothing can be done about the youngsters, though. 

With women trying to keep a leash and muzzle over the men, the teenagers have unhindered access to alcohol and close to no supervision; although spirits are supposedly only served to people 17 and older, I wouldn’t put it past the vendors to look the other way if a group of merchant kids pass a few extra coins across the table, when nobody is watching. 

If grown up men are loud, bold and stupid while drunk, teen and young adult men are even worse, and that’s without a gaggle of equally intoxicated girls egging them on.

This year— as in every Oktoberfest— the electric fence surrounding the district lays dormant and harmless, lest one of the hundreds of inebriated fools roaming the meadow fall into the wires and fry themselves upon accident.

Not that the Capitol cares if a few malnourished— probably discontented— miners fall dead during a district festival; people in 12 used to keel over from starvation all the time back under Snow’s regime, but those deaths were usually chalked up to any number of unrelated causes: pneumonia, heart weakness, black lung disease…anything, except starvation. But dying electrocuted on the very fence that’s supposed to keep us safe in our little district is unthinkable! The fence is there to keep dangerous beasts— and nutritious game alike— away from us.

District 12 remains that enduring jewel of Panem, where you can starve in safety! All we need is to drink the memory of our empty pantries away for another year, and everyone is happy. I sigh. At least they did away with the Hunger Games; now we have singing contests and trivia challenges playing on national television instead of the blood shed of innocent teenagers, which is certainly an improvement. Somehow it’s still not a fair bargain, but district folk will never complain about this particular trade; our children are safe, and we get to watch Capitol people make fools of themselves in front of everyone.

Mother, Prim and I make it home early enough to make a quick supper of roasted potatoes, salted fish and the last of the bakery bread I traded for this week. I make a mental note to bring down a couple squirrels to trade with the baker for more bread. The man is one of the few I can regularly count on to trade fairly with, so I always save him the best of my squirrels. 

By the time dinner is being cleared off the table, I can hear the murmur of families returning home from the meadow. A surge of nervous energy takes over me. I start bouncing my leg restlessly, peeking at the old clock hanging on the wall. 

“Are you going out again?” asks my mother. Her tone is light and her eyes focused on the heap of plates and forks she’s balancing in her hands. I know better than to believe she’s alright with me leaving again. 

“For a while,” I answer. 

“You could get stuck out there!” says Prim, clearly displeased. 

“I’ve been working on a shelter, just in case. I’ll be back before dawn if I can help it,” I say, brokering no arguments.

“Be careful,” Prim mumbles, her blue eyes pleading.

I stand up from my chair and plant a kiss on the crown of her blonde head. “I promise. Now, go make sure Lady is secured before I leave. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas seeing a goat loose out there.” Not that anyone would cross me knowingly, but people get a lot dumber while drunk. 

The sun set on the horizon long ago, but all my years sneaking around urge me to blend instantly with the river of dark-haired children trailing their dark-haired mothers and fathers all over The Seam. It certainly is an entertaining sight; the children are immensely happier than their parents, of course, bouncing and giggling, carrying in their spindly arms their Oktoberfest bounty of apples and freshly picked ears of corn stuffed into old burlap sacks, prizes given to them by the Capitol for every one of those silly games they played at the festival. At least they know supper won’t consist of tesserae bread tonight.

Reaching the fence will be trickier now that the meadow is crawling with blond merchants and peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter of the fence ‘for our safety’. A few miners remain, helping with the cleanup process to earn some extra money, but they are so few I can’t use our physical similarities to hide in plain sight. The merchants, meandering around the meadow, throwing nervous glances at the fence every so often, pretending they don’t care the thing is off, certainly hinders my ability to sneak around. 

I wasn’t the only person who ventured outside the fence by any means. Historically, people have snuck under the barbed wire links in the past to steal apples and berries, when the hunger pains were scarier than the bears and wild dogs roaming the woods; necessity is a great incentive, it either makes you very brave or very reckless…but the few merchants still hanging out here only linger ‘cause an alcohol-fueled thrill holds them captive. Tomorrow, when they’re home nursing a head-splitting hangover, they’ll go back to cowering at the sight of the fence. 

There’s a group of towheaded youngsters, singing obnoxiously, near the edge of the meadow. 

I roll my eyes and try to ignore them for the time being. Meanwhile, I skirt around the maypole, pretending I’m admiring the workers’ effort, pulling the pole out of the ground to haul it into storage until next year. It’s a massive effort, but all I can do is lament how now there’s gonna be a soft spot in the ground for a while there, even after they fill it back with dirt and rocks. 

I curse darkly under my breath when I startle at the sight of two peacekeepers passing by the merchant boys.

The singing stops while the townies nod politely at the albino buzzards. The boys stare at the peacekeepers until they disappear at a bend behind a big, tall retention wall where the fence stops into a jagged corner, and then the young merchants do something very peculiar…they start a round of ‘Row Your Boat’, holding up their fingers in some sort of countdown. Their voices are so shrill and out of tune, everyone around covers their ears and looks the opposite way.

I cock my head, studying the boys. They’re clearly intoxicated: red noses and ears, laughing at nonsense, and the biggest telltale, a bottle of white liquor passing around their misshapen circle. I realize, they’re not all teenagers. A few of them I recognize from my days in school, and I know for a fact two of them are married, and at least one of them has a child on the way already. 

I roll my eyes at their childish behavior. 

The peacekeepers appear again in the distance, and the singers stop their song abruptly. One of the older guys lifts his fingers up, showing all ten digits; he closes his fists quickly and opens them again, now showing seven fingers. They all giggle like lunatics, and I lose interest in them.

I round the cleaning crew closest to the fence, but suddenly, one of the townies stands up and starts calling at the top of his lungs, startling me.

“Hey, you! The girl with the braid!”

I whip around, because I’m 99% sure he’s talking to me! I’ve worn my dark, Seam hair in a single braid down my back for the last 8 years or so; it’s practical, really, to keep it that way. But that’s besides the point.

I wear my fiercest scowl on my face, and I get an uncomfortable jolt to the stomach when I realize I know this guy, the one waving at me while his companions guffaw around him, still intoning their childish ditty. 

Peeta Mellark, the baker’s youngest son, a boy I owe the biggest debt of my entire life, and for the first time since I can remember, he’s meeting my gaze without wavering. 

Debt or not, I have half a mind to stomp his way, grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest tree in retaliation. My mouth opens to ask him what his problem is, when out of nowhere a pair of peacekeepers pop up from behind the retention wall, walking in the opposite direction of the previous set of guards. 

“Did you know it takes about a minute and a half to sing ‘Row Your Boat’ seventeen times?” Peeta Mellark chuckles, pink cheeks and nose, tilting his head towards the fence, and then his blue, sparkly eyes flit to the peacekeepers passing by; all the boys stop singing and nod at them in greeting. “Then, it takes like five minutes to sing something else, until we go back to Row Your Boat!” 

These guards must’ve crossed the other ones at some point while out of sight without me noticing. If I hadn’t been distracted by Peeta calling out to me, I would’ve run right into them on my way to the fence, if not flat out caught red-handed crossing into the woods, and how would I explain myself then?! Everyone in District 12 knows of my poaching proclivities, peacekeepers included, but that doesn’t mean I should go flaunting around my intention to trespass. Panem is still not completely free and whether people should have the right to escape into the woods for sustenance is still a murky topic…I’m not too keen on finding out if hunting is still a punishable crime by today’s parameters.

I turn my eyes back to Peeta, but he’s already singing and joking with his buddies, and although he seems to be invested in whatever shenanigans they’re doing, I’m not too sure he’s oblivious to me.  After all, he had to be watching me pretty closely to accurately guess I was close to being discovered. 

I huff. My debt to Peeta just increased, and I have no idea how to start paying him back for it. 

The peacekeepers are again out of sight; the merchants are singing again, and like before, people look away from their ruckus. There’s one boy with his fingers up…counting. 

Peeta’s watching me; he lifts 4 fingers offhandedly and turns to face his friends. 

Clever!

It’s a code, I gather. 

They’re timing the passing of the peacekeepers into the ‘blind spot’ with one song, then start a different one to predict when the keepers will be back on the retention wall.

I shake my head to clear off the hint of a smile taking over my face. The silly drunks aren’t as stupid as I thought, I guess. 

I make sure no one is looking my way; I also check the kid counting how many boats they’ve rowed, and leap closer to the spot I know there’s a loose link. I only have ten rows before the peacekeepers come back, so I make quick work out of the wires and slip to the other side fast. 

The drunk boys break into hoots and cheers once I’m in the woods, and despite myself, I look in their direction just to make sure nobody saw me scurrying out. I’m partially hidden by a tree, and should be safe now.

The cheering isn’t because I slipped out of the districteffectively; the boys are either harshly ruffling Peeta’s hair, or slapping him on the back. They’re all laughing and crowing something I can’t make out, but soon I see the glint of white uniforms out of the corner of my eyes, and hide deeper into the woods. 

I decide to check on my snares around here and head home right away. This was perhaps the worst entrance I’ve made into the woods, and too many know I’m out here as it is, but, if the townies are gonna act as a siren of sorts, better to use their system to my advantage. 

Then…I need to figure out how to finally speak to Peeta Mellark and start getting my ledger even with him. 

It’s completely dark by the time I reach my snares. I look at the sky and scowl. The stars are obscured, and the moon has a hazy ring around it. Clouds are rolling in too fast for my liking. Rain is coming, soon. So I make haste and run my fingers along the first wire I find. 

My snare wields two rabbits, and I bag them without resetting the traps. I figure one of these will be enough to hold my family over for a couple of days. I can make some coins out of the second rabbit, which should be enough until Oktoberfest has died down and business resumes as normal. It’s a good plan if I say so myself.

A peal of thunder breaks in the distance, and I grunt lowly. This night keeps getting worse by the minute; it’s good that I’m almost back to my entry point. I head back to the fence, where I can still hear the faint howls of laughter of the merchant boys. 

I’m 30 yards from the fence when another clap of thunder roars overhead, loud enough to reverberate in my bones; people beyond the fence shriek. I’ve only taken a step forward when lightning strikes, and I know the storm is hot on my heels. 

The chanting of the merchants is getting louder. I never thought I’d think this, but it’s a relief, knowing I can count on them to distract the patrols while I sneak back into the district. 

They’re egging and heckling each other like a bunch of rowdy hoodlums. 

“Go on! Ten coins says you won’t last a second!” 

“I say fifteen, if he brings back proof he was there!” 

Somebody belches loudly, making the rest giggle like school kids. 

I roll my eyes and try to concentrate on finding my loose wire in the distance. I’m only a few feet away from the fence, but it’s dark and windy. 

“Seeriouslee, though,” hiccups another, mispronouncing his words. “Gwhat should he…” hiccup, “bring?” Hiccup.

“Don’t know. A berry maybe,” 

“Or a bear bite!” cackles another. They all laugh boisterously. 

I wonder what they’re up to now. The fools! Don’t they know they should be running home for cover? The first raindrops are already falling. 

“Fine! Okay…I’ll do it! But I wanna see all that money now!” slurs a voice I recognize, because I heard it calling me less than twenty minutes ago. “Pay up!”

No! Not him! I think, feeling my stomach drop. Whatever it is they’re doing, doesn’t sound very smart. 

“Dis it?!” Peeta Mellark groans, “I’m taking all your money, so I can buy me a hen house! Dis not even ‘nough to buy me chicken feed!”

I hear grumbling nearby, and the clicking of metal, suspiciously similar to how coins sound falling on each other. I assume they’re shedding the rest of their money for Peeta to see. 

“‘Kay…‘Kay…better now. Okay. Imma go now. Hold me money, Rye…and don’t spend any of it! I counted it… it’s me money! Don’t steal it, or I tell Lavender you were smooching girls a week before you got married!” 

“Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t steal me money!”

“Fine!”

“Fine! And don’t tell father ‘bout dis either!”

Somebody yells, “Mellark, stop stalling!”

“Yeah! Get—“ hiccup, “on with it al—“ hiccup, “…ready!”

“Goin’, I’m goin’!” I hear a few murmurs.

I swear, Peeta Mellark! If you set foot in my woods, I’ll shoot you in the toes! 

I’m close enough to the fence to see a few lights flicking close by, but then another thunder drums, with a lightning to boot, and the rain droplets fall heavier. 

“Wait! White helmets!” hisses someone, and even I drop to the ground to hide. 

“Evenin,’ officers!” says Peeta. 

I can picture him in my mind’s eye, smiling the same way he used to in school when covering for one of his friends to the teachers. 

“Evening? It’s almost nine o’clock, boys!” says a woman. I’m not quite familiar with her voice, but I can surmise she’s one of the peacekeepers on patrol. “Curfew starts in 30 minutes, and a storm’s on its way. I suggest you all head to your houses.” 

“Yeah, we will finish pickin’ up our garbage and head right home, officer!” says Peeta, all polite and pleasant like. 

“Very well. You better clear out by the time we return, or we’ll have you spend the night in a cozy cell at the Justice Building,” says a gruff male voice, most likely the second peacekeeper. “Now, get on with the cleaning, gentlemen.” 

There’s a chorus of voices murmuring stuff like “Right away, sir!” and “Of course, officer.” A lot of movement and hushed conversations go on for a minute or so while I lay on my stomach like an idiot. 

I can only assume the peacekeepers are out of earshot when Peeta exclaims happily, “Aight! I’m goin’ in!” 

The others start fussing and protesting, talking over each other frantically: “You can’t go in!”, “Are you crazy?! You heard them, there’s a storm coming!”, “Stop being a damned hero, Mellark! You already showed us up, by speaking to Everdeen!” 

Peeta calls out, “Guys! Shut up! She’s the reason I wanna go in there! She ain’t back yet!” 

I frown. 

“Everdeen? Dude, she’s probably stalking a deer or somethin’…she’s fine!” says who I believe is his brother. 

“Well…but what if she needs help? Shouldn’t some’ne go get ‘er?” He sounds concerned and strangely hopeful. 

My stomach does a strange little flip at Peeta’s words, and then I have to shake my head to stop myself from being grateful for his concern. Outside of my family, Peeta Mellark seems to be the only person in this entire district who cares about me. 

“No! That girl’s half feral! All them wild things in the woods are probably more afraid of her than we are!” says Peeta’s brother. 

I find myself nodding in agreement, but scowling at the same time, because I’m not feral! I just hunt and enjoy the respect— bordering on fear— people have for me. 

It doesn’t matter, though! Right now I feel almost as silly as they sound, and I just want them to take Peeta home, so I can climb back into the district and go home myself.

“I’m still goin’ in!” I realize Peeta is looking for the spot I used to come into the woods, and I hear muttering and hissing trying to dissuade him from coming in, but he’s already pulling the wire the same way I did, and a moment later, he’s wiggling his broad frame under the fence like an inchworm rolling on salt. 

“No!” I huff under my breath, scrambling to get up, to push him back in the other direction, but then somebody is whispering harshly. 

“White helmets!” 

I’m not even surprised to hear Peeta’s so-called friends run away then. Coward merchants the lot of them!

A thunder booms above us, and I see Peeta struggling to pull through under the flash of the lightning that follows. It’s a miracle the peacekeepers haven’t seen him, splashing in the muddy pool forming rapidly under his body. 

“Ugh!” I finally find my feet and practically throw myself on top of his arms, to pull him in. 

Peeta shrieks, startled by my sudden appearance, so I slap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. 

“Hush! Or they’ll find us!” 

I pull him further out from under the wire. He seems to realize what I’m trying to do and relaxes his muscles, letting me guide him forward while propelling himself with the toe of his boots. 

There’s a bush just two feet away from us. I drag him with me on all fours and crouch behind it until the peacekeepers’ flashlights disappear. 

“Hi!” says Peeta.

“Shush!” 

“Sorry!” he whispers…loudly.

“Quiet!” I hiss, bringing a finger to my mouth, as if I was dealing with a toddler instead of a 20-year-old man. 

“‘Kay,” he responds, this time in an actual whisper. 

I still roll my eyes at him. 

Thunder and lightning and cold, stabbing rain fall from the sky unrelenting. 

“Listen, we can’t stay here too long; we need to crawl back into the district!” I tell him, peeking from behind our hiding spot to make sure we are alone. I can’t see very far ahead, but it’s obvious the meadow is empty now. 

“What?!” he calls loudly. 

“For goodness sakes!” I mutter in frustration. “We need to crawl back into the district, or we’re gonna drown out here!” I’m having to yell so he can hear me over the rain.

“Oh! O-kay!” he says, smiling beguilingly at me. “I came to get you!” he yells. 

I look at him, trying to convey all the annoyance I’m feeling towards him right now with just my facial expression, but I guess the moonlight is so minimal he can’t see me, because all he does is smile back at me.

“You’re welcome!” he yells after a second in a self-satisfied tone.

“For what?” I snap.

“For rescuing you, of course!” 

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Rescuing— you…  what?!” I screech.

More thunder and lighting make it impossible to keep doing this where we are. And thanks to the storm, it’s too risky trying to crawl under the fence, too. Negotiating Peeta’s humongous body back under the railings in these conditions is just calling for trouble; we’ll either get found by the peacekeepers— if they’re still patrolling— or get hit by lightning; after all, the fence is meant to conduct electricity and fry whatever touches it. 

I’m lost in my head, thinking about our options at this point, when a bright flash cracks overhead, so strong, it makes everything look like it’s day time, and I fall back on my butt for how close Peeta’s face is to mine. 

“What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Wow! Has anyone ever told you, you have freckles over the bridge of your nose?” He asks, placing his two paw-like hands on my shoulders, pulling me back onto my haunches. “From close up, your face is as pretty as the night sky with all its coteslations!” 

“Hmm…no—nobody’s ever said…” I huff. “Come on. We can’t stay here.” I tell him, pulling him by the hem of his coat’s sleeve. “I think you meant ‘constellations’ by the way. Alcohol really messes up your speech, you know.” 

I think he says something, but I’m not sure, since the storm is swallowing up all the sounds around us. 

The going is slow, because we have to wait for lightning to illuminate our way, and once, I realized we were straying onto a different path from the place I have in mind. Plus, I have to keep trying to untangle myself from Peeta’s grasp, so I can feel around the way with my feet. Peeta talks too much…nonstop, and I think it’s mostly the alcohol talking, but ugh! Would it kill him to just be quiet for a second?!

He’s awfully clingy for such a big man. I mean, he’s grown a few inches since we were in school, and he used to be stocky and broad-shouldered, even as a teenager, on account of him being wrestling champion two years in a row, plus having to handle those heavy trays in the bakery and whatnot. 

I forgot where I was going with this?

Anyway, I hope the alcohol clears his system soon. He seems like an overgrown puppy at times, the way he trails after me and touches the end of my braid, which I guess he might be using as some kind of leash or rope to tether himself to me. Surprisingly, I don’t find it as annoying as I should. In fact, I find the warmth of his fingers… reassuring. 

“Stop!” I tell him, when I hear rustling nearby I know isn’t from the rain. 

A wild dog jumps in front of us, and I curse loudly. I should’ve grabbed my bow on our way out here, but I didn’t want Peeta to see my hiding spot; not that he’ll remember how to get to it, but he was able to find my loose chain in the fence, so…

I think the dog is coming after us. But before I can tell Peeta to run, he pulls me flush with his chest and somehow lifts me over his head like I weigh nothing. The dog is momentarily confused, and I take the chance to chuck one of my rabbits past it. The dumb animal looks at us curiously, but after a second, loses interest and goes for the easier, smaller prey.

I just got reminded of how strong Peeta is. 

“Thank you!” I call out when he lowers me back to his chest. “You can let go of me now. The dog’s gone, but there might be more around.” 

Peeta nods. His blue eyes are wide and alarmed, his cheeks, ruddy with booze just a few minutes ago, are drained of color. “Alright!” he gasps, clearly shaken.

I grab his arm and squeeze, leading him away from the spot. 

It’s times like these when I miss my old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne; for starters, he would’ve had a bow on him…he would’ve shot and killed the dog. He would’ve had my back… but Peeta had my back this time, and he surely is no seasoned hunter, not even an outdoorsman, yet it was his quick thinking and sheer brute strength that saved my hide.

It’s also the reason Gale and I broke our partnership to begin with. Given the chance, he would’ve left Peeta stranded out here, instead of finding him shelter. But that’s his style, not mine, and Peeta has shown his worth twice tonight, inebriated as he is. 

I release a sigh of relief when I see the opening of a burrow on the side of a small hill. It’s not truly a cave; it’s much too shallow to be called that, but, I found it about a year ago, and have been carving it out little by little for these kinds of emergencies, when I need shelter on the run, and the concrete little shack by the lake is too far, and I want to stay close to the fence, anyway. 

“Oooh! Is this a cave? Is it abandoned? We ain’t gonna walk into some bear den or somethin’?” Peeta asks, bumping into my back when I stop to remove a few branches from the entrance of my little hiding spot. 

“Get in!” I command him, and he obeys at once. 

I take a few minutes to rearrange the branches at the mouth of the cave, just to keep the water from splashing inside, although we are soaked through our jackets. 

“Sit,” I tell him, bumping into him again when I turn to feel round the wall of the cave for my provisions. The little hollow is only 5 ft wide by 6 feet deep, so there isn’t much room to wiggle for two people even if we were both my size. 

Peeta has to hunch down as it is.

He’s quiet for the time being. My fingers touch the cool glass of the oil lamp I was feeling for, and right next to it, is a box of matches. I can finally breathe! 

I make quick work of the lamp, and we are finally in better shape than we were a moment ago. Peeta blinks owlishly at the lamp, and I can tell he’s surprised, but blinded by the sudden light. 

“Where are we?” Peeta asks in awe.

“It’s my emergency shelter,” I tell him, kicking a log from the back of the cave towards him. “Here, you don’t have to sit on the ground.” I tell him, watching him sitting almost directly in front of the entrance with his legs crossed.

“You have a shelter out here? I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know you were a genius!” 

My cheeks heat up for some reason. “Nah. It’s just common sense. Too many experiences out there without one. Whatever. Intelligence has nothing to do with this, really.” 

“So…do animals come in here?” he asks, turning his head around to study the place, not as nervously as before.

“No. It’s too small for a big animal’s den, and too big for a small critter’s burrow. It’s ‘me’ size because I’ve been digging it out little by little, and putting stuff in it for when I find myself in the same predicament we are in right now.” 

Peeta shifts to his knees and slowly stands up, hunching a smidge, ‘cause the cave ceiling is too low for him. He lumbers to the log I offered him earlier and sits on it heavily. 

“This place is great!” he states, looking at the crude shelving carved into the dirt where I keep the lamp, matches, a couple of cans of food I’ve agonized about leaving here because it feels like a waste, and things like spare arrowheads and fletchings; things that’d be useful in a pinch. 

I have a knife hidden inside the very log Peeta’s sitting on, but I’m not about to divulge that secret. It’s my last line of defense, and since I don’t have my bow on me, I feel safer knowing there’s at least one weapon in the cave I can count on. I need to bring a bow here at some point; I just haven’t found a good way to camouflage…yet.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. 

“Um, you can sit here,” says Peeta after a long moment passes in silence. “Plenty of room!” He motions to the log, scooting to free up some space.

It looks ridiculous, because there truly isn’t any room left on that log for me to sit. Peeta looks like a smushed rag-doll, sitting on a match box, and all the room he’s leaving next to him, is only big enough to accommodate a toothpick. 

“It’s okay,” I tell him, with a reluctant smile. “I’ll stand for now.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip guiltily. 

“Yeah. Let me be a generous host.”

His face falls. “I’m sorry,” he rushes to say. “You wouldn’t have to be playing host in your lovely cave if it wasn’t for me. Sorry I was so stupid,” he says sheepishly, “I should’ve known you had it under control before I tried coming in after you.”

“Oh…it’s alright. It was…touching. All those things you said back there.” My cheeks are burning with embarrassment. 

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he says, sounding almost sober. 

Another long minute goes by in silence. “Was that a wolf out there?” he asks suddenly. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought about kicking it, but I was afraid it would mangle up my leg, and then I’d get blood poisoned and since medicine is hard to come by, I probably would’ve lost my leg, and I’m not sure I’d be able to master a fake one…unless it was like a Capitol grade thing with robotic nerve connectors and the such… I read some man in District 3 figured out how to make prosthetics that you can control with a chip implanted in your brain!” 

I find myself laughing at his nonsense. And he seems to enjoy my laugh, because he keeps saying outrageous things, I can’t tell if he’s just making them up on the fly, or if he really read about them somewhere. 

I slide against the wall after a while, until I’m crouching close to the wet floor. Our clothes cling to our bodies, but most of the water has leaked off of us already, which is good, since I can’t light a fire inside the cave. 

“Are you hungry?” I ask him, interrupting his musings about how chewing gum is inherently evil, since we don’t have dentistry accessible in the districts. The boy really talks too much!

Peeta cranes his neck to glare at my game bag, which I recently placed by my feet. 

“What do you have there?” He asks, interested. 

“A rabbit. But we can’t eat that raw. We’d get sick with fever if we try. I wouldn’t recommend it,” I tell him. “But I have canned fruit we can share,” I offer. 

He makes an agreeing noise at the back of his throat. “I could eat.” 

“Fine. Um…close your eyes for a second. And don’t peek!” I chide. 

As with everything else I’ve commanded today, Peeta obeys without questioning, and soon I’m darting my hand into the end of the log, retrieving my knife. 

“Open your eyes,” I say. 

“Where did you get that from?!” he screeches, staring open-mouthed at my knife. 

“Secret compartment,” I deadpan.

“Well…I hope you’re not planning on stabbing me with that thing. That blade is bound to be dull now that you hacked into that can with it.”

“What does it matter if the blade’s dull?” I ask, exasperated.

“It’ll tear up my skin if you try stabbing me with it!” Peeta answers, arms moving in exaggerated arches,  “I much rather get a clean cut through, thank you very much!” 

What’s wrong with this boy?! He’s acting like discussing his own potential stabbing is an everyday thing.

“For your information, I’m pretty adept at sharpening things! And…Eww! Gross! Why would I wanna stab you?” I shudder. “I’m sorry, but I don’t do wounds, and I don’t do blood.” I pull a face, shivering.

“You kill things for a living!” He rolls his eyes in disbelief. “Why, the inside of your bag is covered in dried blood from those bunnies right now!”

“Animals! I hunt animals! I don’t do people’s blood and stuff…gross!”

“You’re kinda squeamish for such a lethal thing, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up and eat your pears!” I shove the open can into his hands, and he stares suspiciously at me for a minute before digging in.

Peeta moves over a few more inches, and the toothpick space widens to a Katniss’-rearside-size spot. This time, I take his offer gratefully and sit down next to him. He passes the can to me when he’s done. 

“You know…this is the first time we’ve done something normal together,” he says, pensive.

“It’s the first time we’ve done anything together, Peeta, period!” 

Peeta gasps, and there’s silence for a second. “You’re amazing!” He says, staring and blinking at me while I chew, as if I truly was some extraordinary sight to behold.

I scowl. “Why? Because I fed you canned food in a torrential storm in the middle of the woods?” I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic. 

“Yeah…” he says dreamily, then scowls, then shakes his head. “Nah! You’re just…amazing! Even my mother says that you’re a survivor and the only thing District 12 has of worth…a better version of Haymitch Abernathy!”

Haymitch Abernathy is District 12’s one, and only living, Hunger Games Victor. He’s also a grumpy hermit, and a drunk, and the richest person in the district. Like me, he was born in the miners’ sector, nicknamed the Seam. People say Haymitch used to be smart as a whip, and a looker too, but now he’s just a paunchy, middle aged man, with anger issues. 

“Well, that’s not much of a compliment, is it?” I wrinkle my nose.

Peeta laughs, brushing his shoulder against mine…but that’s to be expected, he’s a giant after all, and the cave is practically a tall dresser. 

“No, I guess it’s not. But father always gushes about your squirrels. Says you never hit the pelt. You always shoot them right through the eye!” 

“Well, anyone can do that with enough practice.” I shrug.

Peeta snorts, and his knee presses against mine. “I wish I could do even half of the stuff you do. You’re an amazing hunter, and smart, and so pretty, and you can bring down deer, and the way you are with your sister…well, my big brothers have never been doting with me as you are with Primrose.” He sighs, looking at the flickering flame of the oil lamp. “You are something else!” 

“I— that’s not…” I’m frustrated and embarrassed, so I snap, “I wouldn’t have been able to do, or be, any of those things without your help, so…there!”

He scoots closer to me. His body is strangely warm, even under the layers of wet clothes. There’s bewilderment in his blue eyes, and for some reason, I can’t look away from the way his hair is all matted to his forehead. He looks boyish. Kinda cute. 

“What do you mean?” He asks in a small voice. 

I chuff. “Well, it was like today,” I start, leaning back, averting my eyes. He smells of spirits, but weirdly enough, I’m not repulsed by the scent. “You called out to me in the meadow, and I was about to rip you a new one, but then I realized you were trying to help me. Then, you save me from a wild dog, by doing something as simple as lifting me over your head, like I weighed nothing.” I feel small, all of eleven years old, and the fact that I’m wet to the bone and cold to the marrow doesn’t help my case. My voice comes out tiny, “You fed me when we were kids. I’ve never been able to even thank you for that!” I purse my lips to keep them from trembling, and blink some 28 times to keep from crying. 

Peeta sidles up against me. “Oh, Katniss,” he says low and reverently. I realize with a jolt, that it’s the first time he’s said my name. “You’re talking about the bread when we were kids?” His eyes glass over. “You can let that go now… after saving my ass tonight from the storm and the peacekeepers, I think you can count us even.” 

“How can you say that?” I demand, “You keep saving me, and I don’t know why?!”

“Really?” he asks, cocking his head sideways, scrunching his face, and shutting one eye like he can’t quite see me clearly with both eyes open; his tone isn’t malicious, just surprised. “You know why…at least, I think you should,” he says, shrugging and leaning closer. “I thought you’d notice how all of my friends were roasting me because I finally said something to you, and all I said was something lame about Row Your Boat.” He chuckles. “Fifteen years I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to you, and when I finally do, I call you ‘ Hey, girl with the braid’ like an idiot!” He practically leans into me.  

“Fifteen years?” I ask, bewildered. 

“Yeah…” he trails off, his ears turning cherry red. “I seem to have harbored a crush on you since the first day of school, when we were five.” He slumps back against the wall, and suddenly I wish he was still draped over me, warming me up. 

“Really?” I ask, because this story seems far-fetched. 

“Oh yes! It’s a whole thing! Me being a goner from the moment I heard you singing that very first day…remind me to tell you all the gory details some day.” 

“You betcha,” I say, amused. 

“I’m sorry I’m such a dork, but hey! At least imma buy me some chickens to sell eggs, and save, to buy my father’s bakery one day, and then I’m gonna ask you out on a date or somethin’.”

“Uh— what? Really?!” I chuckle. 

Peeta yawns. “Yeah, Imma take you somewhere nice for a picnic, like Victor’s Village or something, and I’m gonna bring good bread this time! None of that burnt, soggy crap I threw at you when we were kids, but real, freshly baked bread. With butter. And probably canned pears, ‘cause those are my favorites now!”

“Okay,” I tell him, not completely sure why I’m agreeing to this. After all, I decided a long time ago I was never getting married or having any children, at least, not as long as the Hunger Games loomed over me; I won’t be stringing Peeta along either. Gale accused me of doing just that once, which I don’t think I did? The accusation still stung. 

Right now, it feels nice to think I could go on a date with this crazy merchant boy; and who knows?! 

“Buttered bread sounds nice,” I say, sinking next to him. 

“This is nice!” Says Peeta, sleepily, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah…it is,” I agree, realizing just how steady and warm his arms are, even encased in wet clothing.

“Will you go out on a picnic with me, then?” He asks hopefully, yawning again. His eyes drooping with sleep. 

“I think I might,” I tell him. I haven’t felt this safe in anyone’s embrace since my father died when I was 11 and I stopped trusting my mother. “I think I will,”

I’m beginning to think that the alcohol fumes clinging to Peeta have gone to my head, and left me as simple minded as all the intoxicated people back home, maybe I have it wrong, and Oktoberfest does have its charm, because despite myself, it feels right to indulge in that fantasy tonight. After all, Peeta was the only person in the district back then, that cared enough about me and my family dying of hunger, to do anything about it. He gave me bread he purposely burned for me, all he gained was a bruised eye from his mother, and my inability to repay his kindness, for his generous gesture. 

“Good! Just a heads up, though, I’ll prolly propose to you at that picnic, ” he says. His eyes are already closed, and I roll mine in response. “What you think my odds are of you saying yes?” He snuggles up to me, his head falls onto my shoulder. 

“The odds might be in your favor,” I tell him softly; I’m not so sure I say that to humor him, though. I am really tired, and sleeping in his arms does sound like a luxury right now, so I’m gonna blame it on the ‘Oktoberfest effect’ in the morning. Plead sleep depravation insanity or something. “Night, Peeta,”

He mumbles a response, which turns into a slow snore. 

I close my eyes, smiling. 

I’ll indulge in the drunken ramblings of Peeta tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and if the saying is right, the sun shines brightest after a storm…maybe it’s time I bask in the rays. 

[josefavomjaaga]

Helfert, Joachim Murat, Chapter 6, Part 6

The prisoners were dragged to the castle, and there they were kept in dark cells until the general Nunziante, commanding in Calabria, arrived from Tropea. The intendant Alcalà took pity on Murat and sent him clothes and linen; one or two others were also active in providing the unfortunates with some assistance and refreshments. The overwhelming majority, however, remained rough and obdurate, above all the captain of the gendarmerie, who incited rather than restrained the wild mob that surrounded the prison. It was not until the evening that Captain Stratti marched into the castle with 40 men of infantry, which Nunziante had sent ahead of him, occupied it and turned the unruly thugs out. Soon the general also appeared, who ordered Murat and his officers to more respectable premises. He called the ex-king only "General" and declared that he was faithful to his rightful prince, but knew how to respect misfortune. The other prisoners, too, who had been placed in some detention in the city, now received more humane treatment; surgeons came to dress their wounds, which had hitherto not been attended to at all. Nunziate telegraphed to Naples and asked for specific instructions.

In the meantime, the news that the former king Joachim had been seized and imprisoned in the castle of Pizzo while attempting to insurgent the country had spread like wildfire in the surrounding area, and threatening mobs poured into the city on the 9th, so that Nunziante had to summon all his military severity to maintain order and send the unwelcome guests home again. The poor prisoner, who heard something of these gatherings, lulled himself into the belief that his loyal subjects would come to free him, and some of those around him, such as Franceschetti, encouraged him in this, while the others recognised only too well that their "king" had no friends or supporters willing to make sacrifices among the Calabrese.

Nunziante showed the "General Murat" every consideration permitted. He invited him to his house for breakfast and dinner, and the King's companions did not miss the fact that the Sicilian soldiers, without being told to do so, held up their rifles as often as he passed them. Nunziante allowed him to read books, including Metastasio's poetry, which Murat occasionally had read to him. The prisoner was allowed to write to his wife, to the Austrian commander in Naples, to the British envoy, and Nunziante offered to send the letters to Naples so that they could reach their addresses.

On the 12th, Colonel Robinson anchored in the Bay of Pizzo with some craft from the Sicilian flotilla. Murat expressed the wish to be taken to Tropea, but Robinson was unwilling to do so.

The first news of the events in Pizzo reached Naples on the evening of the 9th through the medium of the optical telegraph: it read vaguely that "a French general" had been arrested. It was immediately assumed that it could be none other than Joachim Murat; but when our envoy appeared before him the next day, King Ferdinand declared that he was not yet sure of his case. The news spread like lightning through the city, which was thrown into an enormous uproar. On the part of the Austrian garrison, the necessary precautions were taken in all haste but also without any commotion, which in the meantime proved to be quite unnecessary: not the slightest disorder occurred, no attempt was made at a putsch or uprising. At first it was thought at court to take the most well-known supporters of the ex-king into custody, but in the end the realisation prevailed that this could only cause a dangerous stir and make the situation more critical than it actually was. But in order not to give Murat's men time to undertake anything more serious, an express messenger was sent to deliver to General Nunziante the order concerning the treatment under martial law of him who had been seized with arms in his hand. Two days later, Ferdinand, who was neither at rest nor at ease because of the uncertainty, sent the Prince of Canosa to Calabria to bring reliable news.

The royal courier arrived in Pizzo late in the evening of the 12th and immediately arrangements were made for the composition of the court martial. It consisted of eight officers, the procurator-general of the Calabrian region beyond, Giovanni la Camera, and a secretary; the officers, with the exception of one who had come with Ferdinand IV from Sicily, had all served under Murat and had been promoted by him.

On the 13th in the morning they awaited Joachim's awakening - only the day before he had spoken of being given a custody of honour on Austrian territory! - whereupon General Nunziante entered his room and gently announced to him what awaited him. "Woe is me," exclaimed the prisoner painfully, "then I am lost: the court-martial is death!" His officers, even his valet Armand, had to leave him, they were led away into a narrow, dark dungeon; in their place Captain Stratti appeared with four Sicilian officers to announce to him that he would have to answer to the military commission. At this point, all his pride awoke: "Men like me are only accountable to God and their conscience for their actions. Not even King Ferdinand could sit in judgement over me, for I myself am a king, I have not relinquished my right and title by any act. Sovereigns have no one to judge but God and their peoples!" Thus he also spoke to Captain Starace, whom the commission appointed to defend him, and who announced it to him with the words: "I am to defend Your Majesty, and before what judges!" "They are not my judges, they are my subjects!" And then again: "They are not my judges, they are my henchmen: I forbid you to speak a word in my defence". The most insistent pleas of Stratti and Starace, who were themselves both deeply moved, that he should at least put something in writing in his defence, were to no avail. The Commission's rapporteur, Lieutenant Froio, entered and wanted to begin the interrogation with the usual questions about name, country, age, etc., but Murat cut him off: "I am Joachim Napoleon, King of the Two Sicilies. Remove yourself!"

Froio, Starace, Stratti left the room where Murat remained in the company of the four Sicilian officers. The overflow of emotions that rushed upon him made him talkative. "I would have thought Ferdinand more humane and a greater man," he said sadly; " I would not have proceeded thus with my adversary in his place!" And now he began to explain to them the failure of his last campaign, which he continually attributed only to external circumstances, and came back again and again to the fact that he had never renounced his rights as King of Naples. Then he spoke of his earlier deeds in Italy, in Egypt, in Austria, on the German, on the Spanish, on the Russian theatre of war, of his elevation to the throne of Naples and all that he had done for the country: "I came to Naples with twelve millions of my own fortune; after seven years' rule I left it with 250,000 fr. as all my possessions! I have made every conceivable sacrifice to the country; I have neglected my own interests for the good of Naples!" The emotion overwhelmed him, he burst into tears; then he regained his composure and, after a deep sigh, spoke: "I am reproached for my court management, my army; but even then I had only the prosperity of the country in mind. I have used the revenues of Naples only for its benefit, I have kept nothing for myself, I take no other riches with me when I die than my deeds. That is my glory and my consolation!" He also spoke of the darkest point in his life, the night-time scene of horror in the moat at Vincennes, and claimed that his memory was unfairly burdened with it: "King Ferdinand wants to make up for the tragedy of the Duke of Enghien, it seems, with another tragedy! I had no part in it, God is my witness before whom I shall soon stand !" Then he threw himself into his breast again: "To descend to those before whom I am to answer, too many pages would have to be wiped from the history of Europe!"

At 5 o'clock in the afternoon the sentence was passed: it was death according to Article 87 (assassination against the existing constitution and government) and 91 (incitement to civil war and armed insurrection); these were the laws of former "King Joachim" on the basis of which and according to the wording of which "General Murat" was sentenced! He still had half an hour to live. The Canonicus Masdea, high in his seventies, set himself to administer to him the last consolations of religion ; at the request of the venerable old man, Murat made the written declaration "to die as a good Christian". He then wrote to his wife: "Ma chère Caroline", commended himself to her memory, "ne m'oublie jamais!", took leave of his four children, inscribing each one by name: "I leave you behind, without kingdom and goods, in the midst of my numerous enemies. Always remain united, show yourselves greater than your misfortunes!" He gave them his fatherly blessing, his kisses, his tears: "Always remember your unhappy father!" He cut off a lock of his hair and enclosed it with the letter, which he presented to Captain Stratti unsealed: "the seal would be found in his right hand after his death". He wanted to say goodbye to his officers, the faithful comrades of his fateful journey, but was refused: "Well then, do not hesitate any longer, I am ready to suffer death!"

He only had to cross the threshold of his room and found himself in a small courtyard where twelve men were standing by. He did not suffer to be blindfolded. "Soldiers," he cried, "do not make me suffer long, the narrowness of the room itself compels you to place the muzzles of your rifles on my breast!" He stretched out his right arm with a closed fist, to which he kept his eyes fixed as the shots fell. He was dead in an instant; when his right hand was opened, a carnelian with the image of Caroline's head was found in it ... At the same time that the death sentence was carried out in the fort, General Nunziante, in full uniform, was seen leaning against the wall of an adjoining house, his face covered by his sackcloth.

Murat's body, almost torn apart by the nearby decharge, was placed in a simple coffin and quietly buried in the local church.

[harry-leroy]

Top 5 soliloquies? Could be from Shakespeare or whatever else :)

Thank you so much for this ask! I appreciate it! I’ll do some from Shakespeare (and probably some from Oscar Wilde let’s be real about ourselves tonight >-

1) I AM STRAIGHT UP NOT HAVING A GOOD TIME (The Tempest) 

All the infections that the sun sucks upFrom bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make himBy inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear meAnd yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,Fright me with urchin—shows, pitch me i’ the mire,Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the darkOut of my way, unless he bid ’em; butFor every trifle are they set upon me;Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at meAnd after bite me, then like hedgehogs whichLie tumbling in my barefoot way and mountTheir pricks at my footfall; sometime am IAll wound with adders who with cloven tonguesDo hiss me into madness.

- Caliban; The Tempest (2.2.) 

Okay I love everything about the language in this play, but some of Caliban’s speeches are the best places to find these fantastic descriptions of the island that we’re on. Better yet, the way that he describes Ariel and the other spirits is so fascinating to me - it makes me wonder about where Ariel comes from, it makes me want to dive into the psychology (which is exactly what I’m doing for #ProjectTempest which is now #ProjectAriel). There’s a sense of militarism that comes from the spirits. They organize themselves into a hierarchy, with Ariel captaining the whole brigade, and not to mention, some of the things that they do are seen, at least in my eyes, as incredibly violent. In my project concerning Ariel, I am trying to dig into why we see Ariel as morally better than Caliban, even though he does some rather tortuous things, and this speech is full of them. I’m currently reading W.H. Auden’s The Sea and the Mirror, which is a poem that explores duality in The Tempest, using primarily Caliban (who represents the earth) and Ariel (who represents the sky). Auden made this incredible chart using these two ideas as ends of a spectrum, and he calls them both “HELL” (I’ll see if I can find the chart somewhere and upload it eventually because it is fascinating). Ahh, I just love this play so much. 

2) #EXPOSED (Love’s Labour’s Lost) 

Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me!Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reproveThese worms for loving, that art most in love?Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tearsThere is no certain princess that appears;You’ll not be perjured, ‘tis a hateful thing;Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting!But are you not ashamed? nay, are you not,All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?You found his mote; the king your mote did see;But I a beam do find in each of three.O, what a scene of foolery have I seen,Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen!O me, with what strict patience have I sat,To see a king transformed to a gnat!To see great Hercules whipping a gig,And profound Solomon to tune a jig,And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain?And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?And where my liege’s? all about the breast:A caudle, ho!

- Berowne; Love’s Labour’s Lost (4.3.) 

THIS SCENE. It will always make me laugh, and cry, and feel every human emotion in the book. God, I love it so much. Can we talk about how ridiculous these boys are? Berowne has such a superiority complex - he’s always off by himself, probably musing to himself, even when he isn’t trying to keep secrets from his three best friends. So when he’s found his chance to have a laugh, he takes it. And can we talk about the language in this play? So fun, absolute joy to read. It makes me cry sometimes I won’t lie. I adore these boys, and I adore how everyone gangs up on Dumaine because Dumaine is the baby (and of course he goes after Katharine because why shouldn’t he?) and I will die on this hill. I love this play so much. 

3) DOUBT COMES IN (Lady Windermere’s Fan) 

How horrible!  I understand now what Lord Darlington meant by the imaginary instance of the couple not two years married.  Oh! it can’t be true—she spoke of enormous sums of money paid to this woman.  I know where Arthur keeps his bank book—in one of the drawers of that desk.  I might find out by that.  I will find out.  [Opens drawer.]  No, it is some hideous mistake.  [Rises and goes C.]  Some silly scandal!  He loves me!  He loves me!  But why should I not look?  I am his wife, I have a right to look!  [Returns to bureau, takes out book and examines it page by page, smiles and gives a sigh of relief.]  I knew it! there is not a word of truth in this stupid story.  [Puts book back in drawer.  As she does so, starts and takes out another book.]  A second book—private—locked!  [Tries to open it, but fails.  Sees paper knife on bureau, and with it cuts cover from book.  Begins to start at the first page.]  ‘Mrs. Erlynne—£600—Mrs. Erlynne—£700—Mrs. Erlynne—£400.’  Oh! it is true!  It is true!  How horrible!  [Throws book on floor.]

- Lady Windermere; Lady Windermere’s Fan (Act I) 

“A wife should trust her husband” says Arthur, because it’s all he knows about marriage, that and that he would do anything for his wife. He would throw himself in front of the spear of society’s hatred for her, even though it is what he fears most. Arthur spends his entire life trying to be the model husband, the model son, the model father, the model man in society, he is so focused on perfection that Margaret can’t believe it when he’s fallen from grace. And it ruins Arthur just as much, maybe even more so. Everyone knows that Arthur is a perfectionist. He tries to match Margaret’s model, as Cecil would say “that is the worst of women.  They always want one to be good.  And if we are good, when they meet us, they don’t love us at all”. He feels like he needs someone to reform him, keep him from falling into the pit, but really he needs to relax. He needs to learn how to say “no”. And people have been waiting for him to slip up: Darlington because he wants Margaret, Cecil and George because they find it amusing. For Margaret, this is where the chips fall, where the imperfections finally come through. For the first time, she has reason to doubt him. And she lets it consume her. 

Arthur finds himself in the same position at the end of Act III. He finds his wife’s fan in Darlington’s rooms, and you can feel the tension in his voice, he’s about ready to throw out his back and shoulders from how tense he gets. But he doesn’t blame his wife, he blames Darlington, or at least that’s what he couldn’t bring himself to say. “And if my wife’s here, I’ll -”: he can’t finish his sentence, because it can’t be true. She loves me! She loves me! Thank goodness for Darlington’s interruption. For the first time, he has reason to doubt her. And he can’t bring himself to do it. 

4) HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF (Lady Windermere’s Fan) 

Gone out of her house!  A letter addressed to her husband!  [Goes over to bureau and looks at letter.  Takes it up and lays it down again with a shudder of fear.]  No, no!  It would be impossible!  Life doesn’t repeat its tragedies like that!  Oh, why does this horrible fancy come across me?  Why do I remember now the one moment of my life I most wish to forget?  Does life repeat its tragedies?  [Tears letter open and reads it, then sinks down into a chair with a gesture of anguish.]  Oh, how terrible!  The same words that twenty years ago I wrote to her father! and how bitterly I have been punished for it!  No; my punishment, my real punishment is to-night, is now! 

- Mrs. Erlynne; Lady Windermere’s Fan (Act II) 

- What did Margaret write on that fatal letter? “Arthur has never understood me” says Margaret, “but when he reads this, he will”. It’s a second-generation Nora, the woman who has never understood herself because she’s been smothered. That’s exactly what Margaret has been, losing her parents at a young age, she has been sheltered from every kind of horrible truth there is. She believes her mother died a saint, her father whose heart swelled too much in devotion for such a saintly figure. Lady Julia made sure of that. In reality, Mrs. Erlynne, while not a saint in any regard, threatens to outshine the golden girl of society, her own daughter. Mrs. Erlynne is the life of the party, not her daughter, and what is worse, her husband might love this woman, and now she thinks he has every reason to. “Cowards are always pale” - how can Margaret hope to compete with this woman? Darlington says ‘forget them, run away with me’ - she can’t bear to think that her husband has left her side. “Come back to me?” she asks the Duchess, hardly able to believe that her husband could have left, but it’s Arthur she wants. She tells Darlington, “my husband may return to me”. She would forgive him, because she loves him, but she can’t stand to think of herself as second rate in her husband’s eyes. It’s a feeling that Mrs. Erlynne knows far too well. There’s so much about motherhood in this play that I absolutely love. In my prequel play, The Selby Roses, I attempt to explore similar ideas about fatherhood. There is so much generational conflict in both plays - even seen in the men of this play. Look at Cecil Graham: there is nothing he holds in contempt more than the older generation, but he also fears them. He gets sheepish around Mrs. Erlynne, he loves to talk down to Lord Augustus. “You were never my age” he tells Augustus, almost as if to say “And I’ll never be yours”. Ah, it is such an interesting concept. Okay, stream-of-conscious rant over hehehe :’) 

5) HE’S SOME KIND OF POET (King Lear) 

When we our betters see bearing our woes,We scarcely think our miseries our foes.Who alone suffers suffers most i’ th’ mind,Leaving free things and happy shows behind.But then the mind much sufferance doth o’erskipWhen grief hath mates and bearing fellowship.How light and portable my pain seems nowWhen that which makes me bend makes the Kingbow!He childed as I fathered. Tom, away.Mark the high noises, and thyself bewrayWhen false opinion, whose wrong thoughts defilethee,In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee.What will hap more tonight, safe ’scape the King!Lurk, lurk.

- Edgar; King Lear (3.6.) 

Will I ever figure out why Edgar is speaking in rhyme here, even though he is alone? Probably not. Though, it does totally make me believe that Edgar knows he has an audience, and it haunts him to no end. There are so many elements to King Lear that make it absolutely absurd, which is why it’s (at least in my eyes) such a good play for 2019. Edgar is performing for self-preservation, but isn’t everyone? Up until this night, he’s refused such a thing. Honesty or I am nothing. The day he accepted playing the game was the day Cordelia refused and that will 5ever end me. 

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Shattered, Chapter 9

Notes: Big thanks to my awesome editors, Drucilla and BlueShifted!

The two named demons are random villain names I picked out of Inducks. Bless you, Inducks.

Some of you guessed correctly about Ratface's identity! This was the first time I'd ever written this pairing. This role in particular got a lot of changes over the years (at one point, it was actually one of the dolls from Mother's house) but hopefully this one worked out.

Summary: Once upon a time, there were angels and demons. A trick was played to seize power, but the entire world wound up paying the price.

Once upon a time, there was a demon who was nothing special. He had the same abilities as his brethren, and he did the same things as them, but none of this made him noteworthy. He knew this, and didn't care for it. To be quite honest, there was nothing he cared about except himself. He didn't care about the futile war between his kind and the angels, the useless humans crawling around the earth, or even his fellow demons who mocked his woes. He wanted to make himself as special as he thought he was, and one day, he discovered how.

~*~

“Blasted angels,” Azimuth grumbled, brushing dirt off his skin. “I almost had them! An entire family of mortals, willing to work for us! Grandparents, uncles, kids, the whole group, I had them right in my hands!”

“But you didn't, so can we cut to the chase already?” Sirena said with a great roll of her eyes, though most of her aggravation wasn't at the big-beaked blabbermouth. “Gladstone! Do you feel like getting up anytime this century?”

Apparently his pretending-to-nap routine wasn't working today. The young man sighed from his perch in the tree, sitting up on the thick branch and looking down at his friends. Well, 'friends' was a stretch – 'acquaintances he could tolerate more than others' was perhaps more accurate, but longer to say. “What do you need me for? I'm no more powerful than either one of you. The day's already shot, let me get back to sleep.”

“Yes, you're a weakling,” Sirena conceded, hands on her hips, blowing some of her blonde hair out of her face. “But you're a charming weakling. You can get a mortal to do whatever you say with one look. If we hurry now, we can get to the next village and pick on some prey before the angels Azimuth ran into catch on.”

“I almost had them,” Azimuth whined again, demanding to be heard. “I was so close! I just needed a little more power!”

“Well, power doesn't grow on trees – and neither do demons.” Sirena then kicked the tree as hard as she could, and with a startled yelp, Gladstone fell down into the bushes. He popped out, his golden curls flopping all over the place.

“Remind me to take my naps further away from you,” Gladstone grumbled as he stood up and brushed himself down. What was the big deal about luring humans to their side anyway? It wasn't going to make any real difference in the end. No one cared about winning this stupid war, they just wanted petty vengeance at this point. Only the truly serious wanted supreme victory, and those fools died as a result of it. Every year there were less angels and demons as a result, and Gladstone figured at that rate, they'd all die out if they put so much stock into feeling superior.

Count him out. He wanted to be superior to both angels and demons, and that way, he figured he'd be alive forever. He stuck his hands in his pockets and followed the taller demons out in the forest, huffing all the while. Sirena, bothersome ninny that she was, had raised a good point. You couldn't just get more power by whining about it, you were born with your talents and that was that. Some demons and angels were born stronger than others, the same with mortals, it was all a game of chance. So Gladstone was never going to be more special than these two idiots.

Although...there was one way to become a more powerful demon. But he knew these two knuckleheads would never agree to it. Few demons would, bitter and selfish as they were.

The village was a short walk, and not worth much, if Gladstone's opinion was asked. It was a desolate dying thing, but the farmers appeared happy enough, digging in the mud for extra vegetables and laughing with abandon when they found extras. One burly man hoisted his son over his shoulders, showing him how to tend to the long stalks of corn nearby. They had no idea about the demons hiding about in the shadows, slinking nearby as they plotted.

“Papa, this field grew twice as much corn as last time!” the little boy discovered, handling an ear of corn in his tiny hands.

His father laughed again. “So it did! We must be the luckiest men alive!”

Gladstone paused in his sneaking, eyebrow raised. There was a word he'd never heard before, and he nudged his friends. “Luckiest? What's a luckiest?”

“You mean, luck? It's some silly concept the mortals came up with,” Azimuth said with a wave of his hand. “The idea of good things happening to you over and over without you having to do anything. They always want some name to destiny, like they have control over their lives. It's incredibly pathetic.”

It was also incredibly brilliant – Gladstone's eyes widened at the idea going through his head. Being superior in life without having to lift a finger? That was right up his alley! He could nap all he wanted and still get away with being better. Maybe mortals were good for something after all. Now there was just a matter of how to be lucky. That was the trick, and if demons were good at anything, it was tricks.

“Will you two pipe down?” Sirena snarled, kicking back at the two men. “We're almost near our target. Gladstone, you charm them. Azimuth, you threaten them. And I'll enchant them.”

“Why can't I enchant them?” Azimuth grumbled. “I'm good at enchanting! Why, last month, I charmed a mortal man into so much strength his muscles tore right though his clothes.”

“And then he whined about destroying everything he touched, so he prayed to the angels, you nitwit.” Sirena kicked him again. “We can only give away so much of our magic, and I'm not letting you waste it!”

There was the problem with Gladstone's desire – he'd need his friends to hand over a portion of their magic to make his own stronger, and once you gave it away, you couldn't take it back. He watched the two of them argue about taking turns, and knowing the day was going to be a waste, turned his attention back to the farmer and his son. A thin wife had joined them, and she lifted the boy into her arms before kissing her husband. The boy stuck out his tongue in disgust, and Gladstone had to agree. It was a gross thing to see, and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. What were they so happy about?

They were weak. They were boring. They had to know it. So what made them smile?

“They're here!” a voice cried out, young and jubilant, its owner running across the wide fields. “The angels are here!”

“Already?!” Azimuth groaned, before shoving Sirena aside. “This is your fault! You picked the village!”

“It's your fault, they were following your lead!”

Gladstone rubbed his temples. “It'll be both your faults if they find us, so keep it down.” So long as they stayed in the dark shadows, the angels wouldn't notice them, hopefully. It was one of the few advantages the demons had, being nearly invisible in any dark place.

Sirena pouted, not wanting to give up so easily. “Let's head closer into the village. Once the angels leave, the mortals will have their guards down! Follow me!” She continued creeping, and the men reluctantly followed, knowing they'd get an earful for disobedience. The sun was high at its peak, allowing many long shadows to be cast from the short hay and mud-made huts.

In the center of the village were four angels – Gladstone squinted – in a way, it was three angels plus one who was all by herself. All of them were bright, shining beauties, surrounded by mortals who worshiped them and thanked them for their help. They practically glowed with tenderness, petting the mortal's hair as if they were telling dogs what good boys they were. High and mighty snobs, the lot of them, Gladstone thought. But there was something very strange about the fourth one – her wings.

Demons and angels had many physical differences alongside their internal ones. Demons had long nails, slit eyes, and a constant aura of darkness. Angels had long hair, warmth in every touch, and white feathery wings on their back – at least, that's what Gladstone knew about every other angel he'd seen in his life. So why did the fourth one have black wings? That was unheard of!

Black as her short hair that hung around her neck, deep as the lines on her face that told centuries of stories, rich as her eyes that captured the sunlight and kept it. She was beautiful, yes, but not the way angels were supposed to be. Angels were supposed to be about brightness and light, not... that. She was hugging a small silver mirror close to her chest, eyes scanning the area until she spotted the same small boy Gladstone had been eyeing earlier.

Her weary expression softened, and she approached him, one hand held out. “Hello, little one,” she said in a voice so soft that it made Gladstone's heart skip. She knelt down to see the boy better, and the child was hesitant before stepping towards her. “How are you today?”

“I'm... very good,” the boy decided. “We have extra corn, Papa says we're lucky.”

The woman shook her head. “No, it wasn't luck. It was your family working very hard. Remember that.  All your victories are made with your own two hands.”

“What a downer,” Sirena mused.

“And an ugly one too,” Azimuth added. “Black wings! Why does she have black wings?”

Gladstone said nothing, continuing to watch, as then the boy's mother suddenly grabbed him by the arm and yanked him away. Her eyes were on those same black wings, fearful of what they meant. The angel was startled, but not surprised, as if this wasn't the first time a wordless accusation had been thrust at her. It still hurt, but it wasn't a fresh wound. “All is well, I assure you. I just-”

“Magica,” One of the normal looking angels interrupted, her voice drone and dull. “Maybe it'd be for the best if you left the rest of this up to us.”

The black angel – Magica? - stood up straight, eyes narrowing. “I led you here with my mirror, I showed you where to go! You'd be wandering around lost if it wasn't for me. I came here to help!”

“Yes, well, you helped, so you can go.” The second angel tried to wave her away, without even looking at her, “You're scaring the poor babies, so, off with you. We'll let you know if we need you.”

Magica's hands clenched her mirror tighter, almost threatening to break it. “They are not poor babies, they're human beings! They're not our pets! If we can help them, then we must, but not so much that they depend on us!” Her temper was rising, and her wings began to jerk in reaction. “Why don't you ever listen to me!” With that, her wings fully stretched out, making her appear larger than she really was  - and frightening a dozen villagers who fled back into their huts. Upon seeing their terror, the woman's face fell with guilt, which made no sense to Gladstone as she hadn't done anything wrong at all.

“Nice going, Magica,” the third angel snorted. “Some help you are.”

Magica opened her mouth to likely raise another objection before silently giving up in defeat. Her wings folded up into herself, and she stormed off in the opposite direction. Gladstone watched her until she was little more than a speck in the distance, and might have watched further, had Sirena not pulled both men to her with glittering eyes. “Hey, do you think there's a reason that one has black wings?”

Gladstone blinked at the oddity of such a question. “A reason? You mean you think she wasn't born with them?” “Of course not,” Azimuth rubbed his hands together, catching on to Sirena's train of thought. “They must be special! Anything that unique has to mean something special. They might even be a source of her power!”

“If we got those feathers for ourselves,” Sirena said with a grin, malicious lining every word. “We could be invincible! Unstoppable! We could even be the most powerful demons that ever existed!”

Gladstone chuckled darkly, walking around his friends with crossed arms. “Oh, it's a fine idea,” he lightly mocked. It wasn't a bad idea, per se, and perhaps the wings were a representation of the angel's strength. But there was one glaring flaw. “Yet, it's like the old story goes... who will bell the cat?”

Azimuth cocked his head. “She looks more like a duck to me.”

Sheesh, why did Gladstone hang out with these morons? “What I mean is, if she's that powerful, obviously you can't get anywhere near her without being destroyed. You wouldn't even be able to pluck one feather off her before she used her magic on you, and poof, you're gone.” He snapped his fingers, and enjoyed the sight of the two elder demons wincing. However, the more he explained it, the more strength it gave to his own ideas. Yes, the angel might be the right thing he needed all along. “However... what was that you were saying earlier, Sirena? That I can get people to do what I want with one look?”

Sirena gawked, her eyes widening. “You're not honestly suggesting...?”

“Oh, but I am.” Gladstone stopped walking, holding up one finger. “How hard can it be to win over an angel? I'll just butter her up like a hot meal, and she'll melt in my hands. All those snobby angels just want someone to remind them how pretty and perfect they are. It'll be easy. I can get you those feathers, I'll let you have every single one...” He then held out his hand. “And in return, you two give half your own power.”

“Half!” Azimuth balked, staggering backwards. “Are you insane? I'd never give up that much!”

Sirena clicked her tongue, strumming her fingers on her arm. “Hmmm... if we did get stronger because of those feathers... giving up half our power may seem like nothing in the end. Assuming you can make her hand them over.”

Gladstone kept on his winning smile that had won over many a mortal heart. If ultimately the feathers were nothing but feathers, he still won. As long as he worded the deal perfectly, they'd still have to hand it over, because a contract with a demon was binding, no matter who it was to. He would get a lucky life, and finally be the superior being he'd always known he was. “Do we have a deal?”

Sirena and Azimuth exchanged uneasy glances, but eventually their greed won out. They both held Gladstone's hand – red rings emitted from their hands, symbolizing the contract bound between the three of them. It only lasted a couple of seconds, and when it was done, Gladstone turned around, smoothing down his green jacket. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

~*~

The demon was cleverer than most would give him credit for. He hunted down the black-feathered angel, memorizing her daily walks to find when she would be alone. Yet to his surprise, he learned she was often alone – the other angels were shunning her all but in name. She continued to try and help them, even though time and time again she was turned away for the mere crime of existing. The demon felt he had an easy target, and with greatest confidence, made his move.

~*~

“Hellooo, gorgeous.”

Magica had been walking a smooth path in the grass, her eyes on the mirror in her hands when the sudden noise disrupted her thoughts. She glanced to the side, and saw a well-dressed demon leaning on a tree, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight, as dapper as any true gentleman. He couldn't hide the shape of his eyes or the look of his hands, but he knew his handsomeness would be a good distraction, as it had been to all the other humans he tricked in his life. He held a bouquet of roses in his hand, fondly rubbing one of the petals between his fingertips as he spoke.

“Forgive me for my impertinence,” he said as he sniffed his own present, “but the moment I saw you, I couldn't control myself. Your beauty has captured my soul completely. From this day hence, I belong to you and you alone. I know these flowers pale in comparison to your alluring features, but I ask you on humble grounds to accept this small token of my affection.” He held out the bouquet...

… to no one. He blinked, blinked again, and saw that Magica had kept on walking, face back in the mirror. Having never been snubbed before, Gladstone was unfamiliar with what had just happened to him, and needed a faint moment to process it. Once he collected his senses, he jogged after her. “Hey! Did you hear a word I said?”

“Leave me be,” Magica said, not sparing him a further look. “I have no times for tricks from toddlers.”

Gladstone stared in slack-jawed stupidity. “Did you just... insult me? Angels aren't supposed to insult people! You're supposed to be all... sweet and goody-goody and giggly!” He went after her again, trying to touch her shoulder. “Listen, let's try this again. Your beauty has captured-”

THWAP!

Angels weren't supposed to insult people, but it seemed they could, and now Gladstone knew they could also send people flying with a mere smack of their wings. A sensible man would have given up at this point, but Gladstone's pride had been so roughly beaten up that he couldn't stand it.

The next day, he offered her a box full of gorgeous jewelry that reflected the glow of her skin, and she threw the box right at his face. The day after that, he composed a symphony of poetry to describe her every movement, and she plugged her ears. The day after that, he played ill, laying on the ground, moaning in agony that if he could not receive a kiss from her, he'd surely perish, and she casually stepped over his supposed corpse.

With each passing failure his stubbornness grew. It became less about earning the luck he desired and more about making that woman submit to his glamour. Every day she was more focused on her beauty than his – why else would she be constantly staring at her mirror? She had to be the snobbiest angel that ever existed! His anger and hatred for her bubbled hotter – he didn't ask to be born a demon, she didn't choose to become an angel, so why did she get to feel as if she was better than he was? The irony of his own superior feeling was lost on him.

Things came to a head when on her route, he decided to go for a different routine – hanging upside down from a tree branch as she made her way through the forest where he typically took his naps. “Fair day, my sweetest dove! My heart is full now, seeing your grace.”

It was no different than the flood of other compliments he'd been given her, yet now she looked up at him, the lines under her eyes darker than usual. “Is that all?”

“Is what all?” “Do you have anything else to say about me except my looks?”

“... What else is there?”

Magica scowled, grabbing him by his hair and yanking him down to the ground. He fell with a heavy “Oof!”, before scrambling to his feet. “Hey!” He was quick to smooth his hair back down. “What was that for? What's so wrong with telling you that you're pretty? You must know it yourself, you spend all your time looking at your own reflection!”

“I do not,” she replied, and held up her mirror to show him that it was not in fact a mirror at all – because instead of a reflection, it showed two small human girls at a lake, one of them crying heavily, the other one struggling to console her. “I look at them. I look for those who need my help.”

“What for?” Gladstone said with a heavy snort. “I've seen the way they treat you. You help them out, and what do you get in return? They scream at you, they mock you, they run away, all because of your wings.”

“So you don't think those are pretty,” she snorted right back, and resumed her walk. “Just as well. You have the face of a rat.”

This time Gladstone followed her and refused to leave. “This rat face has won over plenty! Who can you win over? Are you going to help those girls? They won't thank you, I know it.”

“I don't need gratitude. I don't think you'll ever understand.”

Gladstone followed her all the way to the lake, and just as he thought, the girls cowered in fear at the black-feathered angel. But Magica still persisted, kneeling down to their level, and gently asking them the reason for their tears. The younger of the girls said her mother drowned in the lake, and missed her terribly, could the angel bring her back? No, that was beyond her power. But she could offer a warm embrace, and a promise that the mother was always watching her children, and that love was something that did not die with the body.

The girls didn't thank her. Yet Magica was pleased when they began to smile.

~*~

The demon continued trying to woo her over, now following her as she helped the humans. He never interfered, never tried to sway those mortals to his side, and only watched as she lent her help. He rarely saw her use her magic – she preferred to let words heal wounds, for the humans to think for themselves. She never got anything out of it, no praise for her good deeds or rewards of gold. So why was she so happy whenever she did manage to help someone? The demon could not understand. He thought if he continued to watch her help, he could comprehend the joy she got out of it.

~*~

“I don't know what to do,” the young lady wept, the rain getting stronger. Magica held up her wing to try and shield the human from the water as best she could. “I don't want to marry that man, but he's the head of the village. He won't listen to my parents. I'll never love him, I can't.”

Magica frowned, as this was a hard problem to solve. “Some men can't be reasoned with,” she said with a sigh, one arm always tucked around her mirror. “But you must keep your head held high and fight on. Otherwise, you will always lose.”

Gladstone looked back and forth between the women. Typically he'd stand there and watch Magica do all the work, but that woman's sobs were getting on his nerves. Even if Magica was going to be proven right, this woman would never thank her for it. Why bother? “If you ask me,” he said suddenly, “He's the one who should feel like he's losing.”

“Nobody asked you,” Magica growled.

The woman looked at him. “Huh?”

“He wants a wife, and a pretty one, but he doesn't know anything else about you, right?” Gladstone wagged a finger. “Simple – live with him for one day, and be the worst possible wife on the planet. Burn his food, destroy his clothing, make it clear he'll never know a moment's peace. But! Do it all with a smile.” He flashed his own winning grin, showing how it was done. “So he thinks you're trying your best to be a good wife. You'll be kicked out before sunset.”

“That's...” Magica started, and then pouted, miffed because... “not the worst idea I've ever heard.”

The woman appeared to agree, her tears coming to a stop. “It might! It really might! I'll make myself completely undesirable! Why, I'll even stop bathing and wear my worst dress!” Pleased at her upcoming freedom, she flounced inside to tell her parents the plan.

Gladstone grinned at Magica, scooting over to her side. “That's one for me, and zero for you, darling.”

He expected Magica to blow up in jealous anger, and for a few small seconds, her expression said exactly that. But just as quickly it softened into something unfamiliar, and for once when she spoke to him, her voice was smooth instead of volatile. “Thank you.”

It was quite amazing the number of things happening in Gladstone's heart – like Magica, he'd never been thanked before either. Having never received any on her end, she had to know how powerful it was to give it away. He felt floored, like his chest was caving in. No victory over any other demon, angel, or mortal had ever made him feel so... so... what was the word?

… Grateful?

Magica walked on, not caring about the rain that slicked her and feathers, as it was time to help other souls in need. Gladstone watched on, touching his heart, feeling it beat faster.

~*~

From then on, the demon did more than observe the humans that the angel helped – he helped as well. Not all of his advice was useful, and not all of the times it worked, but he found himself wanting to be thanked again. It had felt so nice the first time that he wanted it more. The more he worked, the more he realized he didn't want thanks from the humans – he wanted thanks from her.

~*~

“Don't you say a word, rat face.” Magica hissed as she tried to fit through the small doorway, her large wings making it an obstacle. Even folding them in as tightly as she could still made her wobble on the doorframe. She didn't even have to look at Gladstone to know he was sporting a smirk.

He stood outside, watching with restrained laughter as she tried to push her way inside. “Who would have known that the answer between the war of our species was in tight spaces? One small room could have us take over the world.”

“Shut up or I'll kick you.”

Another chuckle escaped him, and he approached her from behind. “If you promise not to kick me, I could try to help push you in.”

She debated it before groaning. “... Very well. But be careful, they're sensitive.”

Gladstone, gently as someone like he could make it, placed his hands on her wings and slowly began to push inward. They were the softest things he'd ever felt in his life. Dare say, he would have loved to take a nap on them, and enjoyed that mental image. “Why so? Are they the source of your power?”

She glanced at him as if he'd grown a second head. “Are you daft? Of course not. They're just wings.”

Wouldn't Azimuth and Sirena be disappointed – funny how he hadn't thought of them or the bet in weeks, and shook his head to forget them once more. “I guess I was just wondering why they're black. All the other angels I've seen have white wings.”

“It's rare, not impossible. I just have a... defect, I guess you could say.” Once inside, she stretched out her aching wings before folding them up again.

Defect? He didn't like that word. It didn't suit her, as if her wings were a mistake, as if she was a mistake. His combative nature was driven up again. “They're pretty.”

“Oh, don't start that nonsense again.”

“They are! They're like... the wings of... of...” He tried to think of a creature with similar wings and similar beauty, and only one came to mind. “A raven.”

She stopped, looking at him, and then at her wings. No one had ever complimented her wings before, and eventually she had begun to dislike them herself. Gladstone could see the warmth such words gave her, and it made that weird feeling in his chest expand. He wanted to do it again, over and over and over. “Ravens are beautiful creatures, aren't they? Surely you've seen them.”

Magica's eyes met the floor, and her voice became quiet. She tucked some hair over her shoulder, and – and – and there it was. A smile. A real, genuine, one of a kind smile, and Gladstone never wanted to blink should he miss a moment of its existence. It didn't erase the lines on her face or the hardness of her eyes, yet he realized he didn't want those to go away. They were all a part of her. “They are... they are pretty birds.”

Decidedly bashful, she was swift to turn her head away so she could focus on the reason they came. “H-Hurry up. We can't keep the mortals waiting.”

Gladstone smiled too.

~*~

It wasn't long before the demon forgot his bet, forgot the luck he wanted, and forgot everything his life was before he met the angel. He never knew he could be so happy with so little. Soon it became a daily sight for all those around them, the angel and the demon side by side on the same paths. Everyone believed one would betray the other in due time. All the while, the angel never once used her powers, and never once let go of her mirror.

It was a clear crystal night when both of those oddities got an answer.

~*~

There were legends that said demons grew stronger at night and angels grew weaker, but this was a false theory whipped up by mortals. Although Gladstone would have said that he strangely felt strong and weak as Magica lay against his chest, the two of them watching the moon from an empty cliff. In days up to this, they didn't argue less, but they argued softer, and their conflicts ended in more smirks than insults. There were times they were perfectly content not saying a thing, with Gladstone smoothing down her black feathers with his fingers and Magica resting quietly on her side, eyes closed. They would have stayed like that for some time, but the mirror began to make noise within its images -  Magica's eyes flew open, and she looked down into it to see what was the matter.

It was a false alarm – a child had stubbed their toe and was wailing as if it was the end of the world. Magica sighed in relief, and Gladstone chuckled quietly. “Sheesh, how do you angels get any rest, if you're constantly on the lookout for trouble?”

“I'm the only angel with a mirror like this,” she answered. “The others just try to guess where people need help, and by then it might be too late. I didn't care for that, so I put all of my magic into this mirror.”

Gladstone nodded – but then stopped. Did he hear right? “All of your magic? Every single last drop?”

“All means all, rat face.” She poked his beak. “You've seen how angels and demons can behave with too much power. They act with reckless abandon, and don't care who they hurt so long as they get what they want and feel good about it. I never wanted to fall to temptation... so I put it all into my mirror.”

Gladstone sat there, dumbfounded at such a sacrifice. He couldn't imagine living without magic – it made him better than mortals. It was a cheat at life. Yet she decided to make her life more difficult, more challenging, just to help people? “Honestly, my dear, I don't think I'll ever understand you.” He wasn't sure that was such a bad thing, though. Learning about her had been fascinating.

Magica looked down at her mirror, and then began to stand up on the ground, with Gladstone following soon after. “You might... if you have this.” She placed the mirror into his hands – it was the first time he'd ever seen her let it go.

“W-what?” Gladstone fumbled with the mirror before clutching it to his chest like a sacred treasure. “What! What what what! This is... all of you, all of your magic! Why on earth on you giving it to me?”

“I'm not giving it to you,” Magica said, folding her arms. “I'm lending it. You will return it to me tomorrow at our usual path. If there's a single crack or smear, I will never, ever forgive you, no matter how many pretty things you say about my wings.”

Gladstone's arms felt very heavy, as if he was carrying bricks instead of a mirror. “But... why?”

“I want you to watch the mortals. Don't interfere, just... watch. Maybe then you'll understand why I do what I do.” Something like a smile played out on her face, but Gladstone couldn't be sure. A chill wind brushed by them, and she sighed, looking at the bright full moon. “Winter will be here soon... I enjoy winter. It's as if all the world has gone to sleep. But all things must come to an end... spring will come, and the snow will melt, and life will move on, as it always does. No angels, demons, or mortals can live forever... so with the time we have here... we must think of what we can do with it. This winter... it will be nice, not to be alone.” Her cheeks were pink, and then, not wanting to embarrass herself any further, she quickly walked away.

Gladstone slowly sat back down, looking at the mirror. The boy who had stubbed his toe was being consoled by his big brother, who played games with him until the pain went away. What did Magica want him to learn from this? That there were people who would help one another without expecting a reward? How silly – the brother's reward was to no longer hear that bothersome crying. Yet even that bite felt dull, as if that answer was an excuse. The brothers were then being lightly chided by their mother, it was time to go bed. She tucked them in, kissed their foreheads, and sang a sweet lullaby to lull them to sleep.

All around the world, Gladstone watched families and friends and lovers ending their days, putting away their tools, finishing their chores, and making plans for the next sunrise. Some he was able to recognize as Magica had helped them before, in small and big ways, and they never mentioned her, never gave thanks. She deserved thanks, she deserved... she deserved everything. He wanted to cup her face and tell her that she was a disgustingly good person, the sort that made the world a kinder place to live, and why did he want to tell her that? Why did he want to hold her hand as they walked while they remained quiet? Why did he want all the other angels to treat her better? He would get nothing out of her happiness.

Except... her happiness. Seeing her happy made him happy.

“Oh.” He exhaled slowly, having come to the conclusion in a way Magica herself probably didn't expect. “That's it.”

~*~

As the demon continued to watch the humans all throughout the night, he never knew he himself was being watched. His friends hadn't forgot the bargain they made, and were impatiently waiting out for him to make his end of the deal. However, with the way things were, they saw an opening.

~*~

Early the next morning, Gladstone whistled a merry tune as he walked down the familiar path he and Magica took routinely every day now. It was the same path he had first pestered her on weeks ago, with trees planted along the side that seemed to become smaller and smaller the further away you walked. He proudly held the mirror to his chest – see, not one scratch, not one smudge! Let's see her complain about that! He couldn't wait to tell her the things he'd seen, and thought up a few compliments that would make her fluster in an adorable fashion.

But... there was something odd about today. He'd been walking for quite some time, yet hadn't seen her. She was supposed to show up by now. Had she decided to sleep in, now that her mirror wasn't telling her where to go? He walked a little faster, a dreadful feeling crawling up the back of his neck, as if he'd forgotten something dangerous.

Then he heard screaming.

In days past, Gladstone would have ignored such a noise, figuring some worthless mortal was wasting his time. But now he ran faster towards the sound, actually concerned that a complete stranger was in pain – and then, to his horror, he realized who was screaming.

There in the dirt lay Magica, and there were was Azimuth and Sirena, the two of them holding her down with their legs as their claw-like nails tore apart her back in a morbid effort to take away all her feathers. The two of them cackled as they snapped the bones in her wings, ripping apart muscle and tendon to get every single last feather out. They thought perhaps if they ate the feathers, they'd gain the angel's magic, so they stuffed their faces with handfuls. Magica's face was drenched in tears and agony, unable to move, her throat raw from screams.

Gladstone dropped the mirror, and when it fell to the ground it now had a single circular crack near the edge. “STOP IT!” he yelled in fear and anger, rushing towards the demons with his own claws out, ready to beat them both if need be. “LEAVE HER ALONE! DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!” But just as he got close enough, red rings of magic blocked his body, the contract in full power.

I can get you those feathers, I'll let you have every single one.

The deal had been made – he couldn't break it. “No! NOOO! PLEASE, NO!” He banged his fists uselessly against the rings that wouldn't budge, pleading with his so-called friends, begging them to stop, but they ignored his cries and continued to destroy her beautiful black wings. He slid to his knees, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, and he saw Magica eventually could no longer scream, could no longer cry. She just lay there in anguish, her eyes growing dull, and Gladstone swore he could see every last bit of good in her dying as he saw his reflection in her eyes.

It felt as if an eternity passed before the two demons had finally gotten every single last feather, and the wounds of broken bone and torn flesh were now tossed aside, leaving Magica's back a bloody, disfigured abomination. The red rings began to fade, now that the contract was fulfilled. Azimuth rose to his feet, wiggling his fingertips. “Hmmm... I don't feel any more powerful.”

“Maybe it takes time to digest,” Sirena suggested, walking over to Gladstone's side. He lay frozen in a state of misery, unable to take his eyes off the still Magica. “I don't know what you were hollering about – can't say that I care – but a deal's a deal. Half of mine, half of Azimuth's.”

“Half our power for her wings,” Azimuth chimed in, his hand on Gladstone's left shoulder, Sirena's on the right. “Aren't you one lucky fellow!” All three of them glowed a sick, dark red, as the magic was transferred from two bodies to one. Gladstone didn't respond or react. All he could see was Magica. All he could feel was Magica.

With the transfer over, Sirena kicked her heels, beginning to walk away. “I bet the power will come any minute now! We'll be able to take down any angels in our way!”

“Maybe it's already working, we handled that one really easily.” Azimuth said as he walked with her – not knowing, as Gladstone realized, that with all the magic in her mirror, Magica had no way to defend herself. The demons laughed at their victory, their wicked cackles echoing in the trees long after they left.

Gladstone choked. He felt ill. Magica. His Magica. She lay there without saying a word, not even twitching, her face unreadable. He tried to reach to her, to touch her hair, and she flinched as if she'd been struck. “No, No, I... I'm sorry, I... y-your mirror! Here, I'll get you your mirror!” Maybe if she took her magic out of it, she could heal herself. If she couldn't, maybe his strengthened magic could do the trick. Yet even as he scrambled to his feet to collect the broken mirror, he knew that nothing would heal the deeper wound – why hadn't he warned her? Why hadn't he told Azimuth and Sirena he didn't want to do it anymore? Why had he even done it all in the first place? For luck? To feel better about himself?

Magica slowly, slowly, slowly began to rise to her knees, her entire body trembling. Gladstone returned to her, kneeling down, offering the mirror, his sobs making it difficult to speak. “I-I know it's cracked, I'm sorry – I'm so sorry – Magica, I didn't mean – this wasn't supposed to happen!”

Magica snatched the mirror from his hands, and for the first time, perhaps due to that accidental crack, she saw her own reflection staring back at her. In that moment, she saw all her pain staring back at her, all her mistakes, and what trusting Gladstone - what loving Gladstone - had done to her. She raised the mirror – and then smashed it to the ground.

And then smashed it again.

And again.

And again.

Gladstone cried out, trying to understand what she was doing, but she was done listening. There were endless shards on the ground, and she dropped the mirror to pick up the largest one, holding it in her hands – and stabbed herself in the chest.

She howled, and the wind picked up in an icy chill, faster all around them – the ground underneath their bodies turned into solid ice, and the ground rumbled, hard snow began to fall from the sky, and the wind took the shards and scattered them to the world. Through all this, Magica pressed the shard deeper and deeper inside of her, even as Gladstone pleaded for her to stop.

“I WILL SAVE THE WORLD FROM THIS TORMENT!” she shrieked, louder than the winds, louder than the storm, louder than anyone who could stop her. “I WILL NEVER LET ANYONE HURT THIS WAY AGAIN! FROM HENCEFORTH... THERE WILL NEVER BE LOVE AGAIN!”

With this final cry, gigantic walls of ice began to rise from the ground, encasing the entire forest, creating a castle of ice that reflected nothing and no one. The trees around began to die in the frost, and the cold spread throughout the world. Gladstone, who had barely registered what her declaration meant to him or to anyone, tried to stay, tried to pound on the ice, tried to apologize over and over, but he would not be heard. His own grief tore at his soul, hating his very being and knowing that death would be too swift a mercy for him.

In his suffering, he could only think of how he deserved to be punished for what he had done, and what he had failed to do. He covered his face with his hands, and with every single last burst of magic in his body, transformed his entire body into a pathetic, ugly, helpless bird, so he could never use his magic again. He would live on forever with his sin, never belonging to any world – angel, demon, or mortal.

He flew away, and luck was on his side, for the wind let him sail through the sky.

~*~

The angel spread her cold and her rule throughout the world. Now with her as the most powerful threat, the war between the angels and demons seemed pathetic, and those that did not die in conflict with one another over her shards went into hiding. In her goal to help every creature, she forbade love. To that end, her mirror would help her gain soldiers for her cause, those that once fought against her crusade. They would endure the same shards as she.

One shard to freeze their minds. To bind them to the cold, and keep them in constant pain.

Two shards to freeze their hearts. To eliminate their memories, and confirm their obedience.

Three shards to freeze their souls. To take their very life, and end the mortal coil.

And since then, the Snow Queen's rule has been firmly set, and no one has ever been able to defeat her.

And the demon forever lives with selling his lover for luck.

[radioteopoli]

God bless you all on this Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion!

Gospel LK 22:14—23:56

When the hour came, Jesus took his place at table with the apostles. He said to them, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer, for, I tell you, I shall not eat it again until there is fulfillment in the kingdom of God." Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and said, "Take this and share it among yourselves; for I tell you that from this time on I shall not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes." Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me." And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you. "And yet behold, the hand of the one who is to betray me is with me on the table; for the Son of Man indeed goes as it has been determined; but woe to that man by whom he is betrayed." And they began to debate among themselves who among them would do such a deed. Then an argument broke out among them about which of them should be regarded as the greatest. He said to them, "The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them and those in authority over them are addressed as 'Benefactors'; but among you it shall not be so. Rather, let the greatest among you be as the youngest, and the leader as the servant. For who is greater: the one seated at table or the one who serves? Is it not the one seated at table? I am among you as the one who serves. It is you who have stood by me in my trials; and I confer a kingdom on you, just as my Father has conferred one on me, that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom; and you will sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel. "Simon, Simon, behold Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat, but I have prayed that your own faith may not fail; and once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers." He said to him, "Lord, I am prepared to go to prison and to die with you." But he replied, "I tell you, Peter, before the cock crows this day, you will deny three times that you know me." He said to them, "When I sent you forth without a money bag or a sack or sandals, were you in need of anything?" "No, nothing, " they replied. He said to them, "But now one who has a money bag should take it, and likewise a sack, and one who does not have a sword should sell his cloak and buy one. For I tell you that this Scripture must be fulfilled in me, namely, He was counted among the wicked; and indeed what is written about me is coming to fulfillment." Then they said, "Lord, look, there are two swords here." But he replied, "It is enough!" Then going out, he went, as was his custom, to the Mount of Olives, and the disciples followed him. When he arrived at the place he said to them, "Pray that you may not undergo the test." After withdrawing about a stone's throw from them and kneeling, he prayed, saying, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done." And to strengthen him an angel from heaven appeared to him. He was in such agony and he prayed so fervently that his sweat became like drops of blood falling on the ground. When he rose from prayer and returned to his disciples, he found them sleeping from grief. He said to them, "Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray that you may not undergo the test." While he was still speaking, a crowd approached and in front was one of the Twelve, a man named Judas. He went up to Jesus to kiss him. Jesus said to him, "Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?" His disciples realized what was about to happen, and they asked, "Lord, shall we strike with a sword?" And one of them struck the high priest's servant and cut off his right ear. But Jesus said in reply, "Stop, no more of this!" Then he touched the servant's ear and healed him. And Jesus said to the chief priests and temple guards and elders who had come for him, "Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs? Day after day I was with you in the temple area, and you did not seize me; but this is your hour, the time for the power of darkness." After arresting him they led him away and took him into the house of the high priest; Peter was following at a distance. They lit a fire in the middle of the courtyard and sat around it, and Peter sat down with them. When a maid saw him seated in the light, she looked intently at him and said, "This man too was with him." But he denied it saying, "Woman, I do not know him." A short while later someone else saw him and said, "You too are one of them"; but Peter answered, "My friend, I am not." About an hour later, still another insisted, "Assuredly, this man too was with him, for he also is a Galilean." But Peter said, "My friend, I do not know what you are talking about." Just as he was saying this, the cock crowed, and the Lord turned and looked at Peter; and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said to him, "Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times." He went out and began to weep bitterly. The men who held Jesus in custody were ridiculing and beating him. They blindfolded him and questioned him, saying, "Prophesy!  Who is it that struck you?" And they reviled him in saying many other things against him. When day came the council of elders of the people met, both chief priests and scribes, and they brought him before their Sanhedrin. They said, "If you are the Christ, tell us, " but he replied to them, "If I tell you, you will not believe, and if I question, you will not respond. But from this time on the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the power of God." They all asked, "Are you then the Son of God?" He replied to them, "You say that I am." Then they said, "What further need have we for testimony? We have heard it from his own mouth." Then the whole assembly of them arose and brought him before Pilate. They brought charges against him, saying, "We found this man misleading our people; he opposes the payment of taxes to Caesar and maintains that he is the Christ, a king." Pilate asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?" He said to him in reply, "You say so." Pilate then addressed the chief priests and the crowds, "I find this man not guilty." But they were adamant and said, "He is inciting the people with his teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee where he began even to here." On hearing this Pilate asked if the man was a Galilean; and upon learning that he was under Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod who was in Jerusalem at that time. Herod was very glad to see Jesus; he had been wanting to see him for a long time, for he had heard about him and had been hoping to see him perform some sign. He questioned him at length, but he gave him no answer. The chief priests and scribes, meanwhile, stood by accusing him harshly. Herod and his soldiers treated him contemptuously and mocked him, and after clothing him in resplendent garb, he sent him back to Pilate. Herod and Pilate became friends that very day, even though they had been enemies formerly. Pilate then summoned the chief priests, the rulers, and the people and said to them, "You brought this man to me and accused him of inciting the people to revolt. I have conducted my investigation in your presence and have not found this man guilty of the charges you have brought against him, nor did Herod, for he sent him back to us. So no capital crime has been committed by him. Therefore I shall have him flogged and then release him." But all together they shouted out, "Away with this man! Release Barabbas to us." — Now Barabbas had been imprisoned for a rebellion that had taken place in the city and for murder. — Again Pilate addressed them, still wishing to release Jesus, but they continued their shouting, "Crucify him!  Crucify him!" Pilate addressed them a third time, "What evil has this man done? I found him guilty of no capital crime. Therefore I shall have him flogged and then release him." With loud shouts, however, they persisted in calling for his crucifixion, and their voices prevailed. The verdict of Pilate was that their demand should be granted. So he released the man who had been imprisoned for rebellion and murder, for whom they asked, and he handed Jesus over to them to deal with as they wished. As they led him away they took hold of a certain Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country; and after laying the cross on him, they made him carry it behind Jesus. A large crowd of people followed Jesus, including many women who mourned and lamented him. Jesus turned to them and said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep instead for yourselves and for your children for indeed, the days are coming when people will say, 'Blessed are the barren, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed.' At that time people will say to the mountains, 'Fall upon us!' and to the hills, 'Cover us!' for if these things are done when the wood is green what will happen when it is dry?" Now two others, both criminals, were led away with him to be executed. When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him and the criminals there, one on his right, the other on his left. Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." They divided his garments by casting lots. The people stood by and watched; the rulers, meanwhile, sneered at him and said, "He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God." Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine they called out, "If you are King of the Jews, save yourself." Above him there was an inscription that read, "This is the King of the Jews." Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, "Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us." The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, "Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied to him, "Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise." It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle. Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit"; and when he had said this he breathed his last. Here all kneel and pause for a short time. The centurion who witnessed what had happened glorified God and said, "This man was innocent beyond doubt." When all the people who had gathered for this spectacle saw what had happened, they returned home beating their breasts; but all his acquaintances stood at a distance, including the women who had followed him from Galilee and saw these events. Now there was a virtuous and righteous man named Joseph who, though he was a member of the council, had not consented to their plan of action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea and was awaiting the kingdom of God. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. After he had taken the body down, he wrapped it in a linen cloth and laid him in a rock-hewn tomb in which no one had yet been buried. It was the day of preparation, and the sabbath was about to begin. The women who had come from Galilee with him followed behind, and when they had seen the tomb and the way in which his body was laid in it, they returned and prepared spices and perfumed oils. Then they rested on the sabbath according to the commandment.

Or LK 23:1-49

The elders of the people, chief priests and scribes, arose and brought Jesus before Pilate. They brought charges against him, saying, "We found this man misleading our people; he opposes the payment of taxes to Caesar and maintains that he is the Christ, a king." Pilate asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?" He said to him in reply, "You say so." Pilate then addressed the chief priests and the crowds, "I find this man not guilty." But they were adamant and said, "He is inciting the people with his teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee where he began even to here." On hearing this Pilate asked if the man was a Galilean; and upon learning that he was under Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod who was in Jerusalem at that time. Herod was very glad to see Jesus; he had been wanting to see him for a long time, for he had heard about him and had been hoping to see him perform some sign. He questioned him at length, but he gave him no answer. The chief priests and scribes, meanwhile, stood by accusing him harshly. Herod and his soldiers treated him contemptuously and mocked him, and after clothing him in resplendent garb, he sent him back to Pilate. Herod and Pilate became friends that very day, even though they had been enemies formerly. Pilate then summoned the chief priests, the rulers, and the people and said to them, "You brought this man to me and accused him of inciting the people to revolt. I have conducted my investigation in your presence and have not found this man guilty of the charges you have brought against him, nor did Herod, for he sent him back to us. So no capital crime has been committed by him. Therefore I shall have him flogged and then release him." But all together they shouted out, "Away with this man! Release Barabbas to us." — Now Barabbas had been imprisoned for a rebellion that had taken place in the city and for murder. — Again Pilate addressed them, still wishing to release Jesus, but they continued their shouting, "Crucify him!  Crucify him!" Pilate addressed them a third time, "What evil has this man done? I found him guilty of no capital crime. Therefore I shall have him flogged and then release him." With loud shouts, however, they persisted in calling for his crucifixion, and their voices prevailed. The verdict of Pilate was that their demand should be granted. So he released the man who had been imprisoned for rebellion and murder, for whom they asked, and he handed Jesus over to them to deal with as they wished. As they led him away they took hold of a certain Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country; and after laying the cross on him, they made him carry it behind Jesus. A large crowd of people followed Jesus, including many women who mourned and lamented him. Jesus turned to them and said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep instead for yourselves and for your children for indeed, the days are coming when people will say, 'Blessed are the barren, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed.' At that time people will say to the mountains, 'Fall upon us!' and to the hills, 'Cover us!' for if these things are done when the wood is green what will happen when it is dry?" Now two others, both criminals, were led away with him to be executed. When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him and the criminals there, one on his right, the other on his left. Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." They divided his garments by casting lots. The people stood by and watched; the rulers, meanwhile, sneered at him and said, "He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God." Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine they called out, "If you are King of the Jews, save yourself." Above him there was an inscription that read, "This is the King of the Jews." Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, "Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us." The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, "Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied to him, "Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise." It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle. Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit"; and when he had said this he breathed his last. Here all kneel and pause for a short time. The centurion who witnessed what had happened glorified God and said, "This man was innocent beyond doubt." When all the people who had gathered for this spectacle saw what had happened, they returned home beating their breasts; but all his acquaintances stood at a distance, including the women who had followed him from Galilee and saw these events.

[queen-scribbles]

All the questions for whichever origin applies :) (I'm sorry I'm not super familiar with your characters!)

(Rahna) TABRIS:

What was Tabris’ relationship with their family like? (Cyrion, Adaia, Shianni, Soris…)

She doesn’t really remember Adaia all that well(which bothers her more than she admits), She loves her father but wishes he was a little less…. complacent. She and Shianni get along great, they’re fond of the whole teasing-insults-that-sound-real-to-other-people as a means of showing affection with each other. She and Soris get along pretty great(even if he is sort of the reason she’s claustrophobic)

How did Tabris handle being told of their arranged marriage?

She… wasn’t thrilled, but she knows lots of people who have happy marriages even though they were arranged., so she didn’t protest too much. Just rolled her eyes a little at the whole “We don’t wanna seem like troublemakers so don’t mention the weapon training, k?”

How did Tabris react to meeting their betrothed?

Oh, meeting Nelaros definitely made her way more okay with the getting married thing. (She still has the ring. Even years later.) He’s so sweet and seems like such a nice guy, but also doesn’t just take Vaughan’s crap. She was actually looking forward to marrying him before… y’know.

Did Tabris have any knowledge or ideas about the Dalish? Did they believe they were real, or a myth?

She knew vaguely that they existed, but no real details. Did believe they were real, though.

Did Tabris stop to talk with the children playing? If so, how did they handle the children saying they didn’t know any elven heroes?

No, she didn’t, because she was my first time through the Tabris origins and I missed it. >.>

How did Tabris respond to Vaughn harassing the elven women? To he and his men crashing the wedding?

Straight up told him to knock it off and leave them alone//”I’ll kill you if you touch us”//cheered Shianni on when she bottled the bastard

If Tabris was kidnapped, what was their plan before Soris showed up? 

Kill everyone in the way and get them all out as unharmed as possible(and then Nola got killed pretty much straight off the bat, which only made her angrier).

Did Tabris kill Vaughn or accept his money? Why?

Oh, bitch, he dead. And it was extra great cuz she got the dual-weapon finishing move where you stab your opponent in the gut and then cut off their head. She was very satisfied.

What was growing up in the alienage like for Tabris? How did they feel about having to leave?

Growing up in the Alienage for Rahna meant a large importance on family, sometimes going hungry bc there wasn’t enough, and a slowly built and reinforced distrust for human nobility(I’m honestly kind of shocked at how fast she and Nate bonded in DAA)

How did Tabris feel about returning to the alienage, and finding slavery?

*KILL BILL SIRENS*

(Trinne) AMELL:

Did Amell have any memories of their life before the Circle? If so, what of? If not, how did they feel about not knowing where they’re from?

OH, yeah. Trinne was eight–almost nine–when the templars took her, so she remembers her parents(she was a Daddy’s Girl, through and through) and her sisters really well. She has lots of memories playing with her sisters, her father teaching her constellations, her mother attempting to tame her hair, etc etc 

What was Amell’s relationship with Jowan like? What did they think of the revelation of him being a blood mage?

Oh, best friends isn’t even strong enough. Trinne and Jowan are basically family in every sense but blood(and actually, Modern AU he is her brother via adoption). The single fastest way to make her angry is go after Jowan, whether that be just insults or physically attacking him. And he’s defensive of her right back, she just… needs it less. She beats people up for calling him names, he lies to keep her out of trouble and keeps her from being too impulsive as much as he can. She has mixed feelings about the blood mage reveal, those mixed feelings being AWESOME and WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!?! She’s hurt he lied to her, but she doesn’t view blood magic as being as evil as the Chantry teaches(entropy mage; she’s put a lot of thought into this stuff “Why is THAT bad but not THIS?”, so that didn’t bother her as much.)

How prepared was Amell for their Harrowing?

She was pretty prepared, star pupil and all that. Still just barely managed to figure out Mouse’s game in time.

What was Amell’s reaction to first entering the Fade?

She thought it was pretty neat, if a tad disorienting. Adjusted pretty quickly to the concept of her will making things Real and ran with it.

Did Amell believe in “Mouse?” What did they think of his story?

Of my mages, Trinne’s the most comfortable with her skill level and least self-effacing, so he almost got her with his combo of “Woe is me” and “You’re so powerful and strong, surely you can succeed!”

How did Amell feel about living in the Circle?

Jowan and picking on the templars were the only things that made life bearable. Oh, and books. She loves to read, especially history, so the most common place to find her was the library.

Did Amell favour a particular Fraternity? What did they think about Circle politics in general?

She usually tried to keep out of Circle politics, but if you forced her to picked, she’d probably come down somewhere between Aequitarians and Libertarians, leaning a bit more toward the latter. 

How did Amell feel about working with tranquil mages?

She sees Tranquility as being just as much an abomination as anything any demon can do to a mage; stripping them of their free will and turning them into an obedient puppet. She and Jowan would both rather die than be Tranquil, so even after everything goes to hell in the Origins, even when she’s mad and hurt that he lied to her, she’s never, ever sorry she helped him escape that. Not for a second. And she’s not shy about admitting that either.

Did Amell decide to help Jowan and Lily, or did they tell Irving of their plans? Why?

Oh, she helped Jowan and Lily. No arm-twisting or anything required. She did check with Irving that they were really planning to make Jowan Tranquil, got really mad when the reason “Oh, yeah, someone told Greagoir he’s a blood mage” (I mean, he is a blood mage, but she didn’t know that, and the fact they were going to make Jowan Tranquil because of what was to her just hearsay infuriated her), and is therefore extremely defiant about helping them.

How did Amell feel about returning to the Circle, and seeing it in chaos?

It broke her heart and made her want to throw up and if Uldred had still been Uldred instead of a demon’s plaything, she probably would’ve thrown him off the top of the tower and prayed he bounced as many times as possible on the way down.

(Gabriel) ANDRAS (AWAKENING):

What was the warden’s life like prior to joining the order? Under what circumstances did they join?

Gabriel’s family(Parents, him, and younger brother Remy) were servants to one of the more decent chevaliers(I know that’s not saying much. He didn’t beat them, they were fed and had a roof, his sister actually was the one who taught Gabriel to read). Gabriel picked up some moves watching the guards/soldiers spar and practiced in what little free time he had, developed a rogue-influenced warrior fighting style(he’s a berserker/champion/spirit warrior in game). Long, LONG story short, a Grey Warden saw him fighting and was impressed with his skill–even more so upon learning he was essentially self-taught–and Conscripted him,

How did the warden react to being made Warden-Commander and sent to a new country?

Surprised, tbh. He was still a relatively new Warden at the time of the Blight and its aftermath; so he’d expected some with more Warden experience would get command. The new country bit didn’t bother him much; he’s always wanted to travel. 

What did the warden say in return to Empress Celene presenting them with new armour, upon their departure?

He doesn’t (I don’t) remember :P

What was the warden’s first impression of Ferelden?

Well, it was raining, so cold, wet, and lots of green and brown

How did the warden handle the negative backlash to their Orlesian nationality?

Honestly, he’s just glad they’re focusing on that rather than calling him “rabbit” and telling him to go make supper.

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Thu., Apr., 22, 2021

April 9/ April 22

The Holy Martyr Eupsychios (362)

The Holy Martyr Eupsychios was born in the city of Caesarea Cappadocia and received a Christian upbringing by his illustrious parents.      During the time of the reign of Julian the Apostate (361-363), Saint Eupsychios entered into Christian wedlock.      At Caesarea there was then a pagan temple to the goddess Fortuna [i.e. "fortune" or "luck"], very revered by Julian the Apostate. At the same time as Eupsychios was going in to the wedding ceremony, the pagans were making offering of sacrifice to the goddess Fortuna.      Saint Eupsychios was ardent with zeal for the Lord, and he gathered the people and destroyed the temple. He knew, that this would inevitably result in punishment for him. Saint Eupsychios distributed all his substance to the poor and prepared himself for the act of martyrdom.      The enraged emperor Julian hurled his wrath not only upon Saint Eupsychios, but against all the inhabitants of this city. Some of the citizens he executed, the more respectable he sent into exile, Christian clergy were conscripted into military service, and from the churches he looted anything of value. The city was deprived of its title Caesarea (i.e. "Imperial") and turned into a simple village with its original name of Maza, and on the inhabitants he imposed a grievous tribute-tax. The emperor threatened to annihilate the city altogether, if the people did not build a new pagan temple in place of the one destroyed.      Julian ordered Saint Eupsychios to be compelled by tortures to offer sacrifice to idols. Over the course of many days they tormented the saint upon a rack, and likewise with iron claws. But his faith was firm, and the judge gave sentence to behead the martyr with the sword (+ 362). At this time Julian, having set out on a campaign against the Persians, marched through Cappadocia and approached Carsarea. Danger threatened the city, since the emperor intended to raze it to its foundations. But then the archbishop of the city, Sainted Basil the Great (+ 379, Comm. 1 January), showing Julian the proper respect as sovereign authority, came out to meet him carrying with him three loaves of barley bread, which he himself ate from. The emperor ordered his retainers to take the loaves, and to give Saint Basil a pinch of hay with the words: "Thou hast given us barley, cattle feed, so in return receive hay from us". The saint answered: "O emperor, we bring thee that which we ourselves do eat, and thou dost give us cattle feed; thou dost make mockery over us, since thou art not able by thy might to transform hay into bread – the essential food of mankind". Julian angrily replied: "Know thou, that this hay I shalt shove down thy throat, when I am returned hence from Persia. And I shalt raze this city to its very foundations and on its place plow over the ground and turn it into a field. I do very well know, that it was through thine advice, that the people dared to destroy the statuary and temple of Fortuna".      After this the emperor continued on his way, but soon perished in his campaign against the Persians. He was struck down in the year 363 by the holy GreatMartyr Mercurius (Comm. 24 November, q.v.).      And after the emperor's demise, the Christians of the city of Caesarea erected a splendid church over the grave of Saint Eupsychios, and from his relics they received help and healing.

The Holy MonkMartyr Vadim the Archimandrite (379)

     The Holy MonkMartyr Vadim the Archimandrite was born in the IV Century in the Persian city of Bythlapata, and was descended from a rich and illustrious family. In his youthful years he was enlightened with the Christian teaching. The saint gave away part of his substance and withdrew into the wilderness, where on his means he founded a monastery. For solitary prayer he would go up on a mountain, and once was vouchsafed to behold the Glory of God. During this period the Persian emperor Sapor (310-381) began to persecute Christians. They arrested Saint Vadim together with his seven disciples and daily they tortured them in the prison, seeking to have them renounce Christ and instead worship the sun and fire. But the Monk Vadim and his disciples held firmly to their Christian faith. The confessors spent four months locked up. All this time Saint Vadim was a spiritual leader and support for the Christians living in Persia.

    One of the associates of the emperor Sapor, Nirsanes, having confessed Christianity and suffering imprisonment for this, did not hold up under torture and recanted from Christ. He promised to fulfill whatever might be the orders of the emperor. Sapor demanded of Nirsanes, that he personally should chop off the head of Saint Vadim. For this he was promised a reprieve and rewards. Nirsanes was not able to overcome in himself the fear of new tortures and he agreed to enter upon the path of betrayal walked by Judas. When they brought Saint Vadim to him, he took the sword and turned towards him, but overcome by conscience, he trembled and stood petrified. Saint Vadim said to him: "Is thine misdeed, Nirsanes, now come to this, that thou shouldst not only renounce God, but also begin to murder His servants? Woe to thee, accursed one, what wilt thou do on that day, when thou standest before the Dread Judgement-Seat to give answer to God? It is with joy that I die a martyr for Christ, but I want not to accept death at thy hand". Beside himself, Nirsanes struck with the sword. But his hands shook, and he could not again strike at the head of the saint, and the fire-worshippers began to call him a coward. The MonkMartyr Vadim stood motionless, enduring the terrible blows, until the murderer succeeded in cutting off his head (+ 376). The just rewards for apostasy were not slow to overtake the hapless fellow: torn by conscience, he did away with himself, having thrown himself on a sword. After the death of the emperor Sapor, the seven disciples of the MonkMartyr Vadim were released from prison.

All texts©1996-2001 by translator Fr. S. Janos.

Isaiah 65:8-16 

8Thus says the Lord: “As the new wine is found in the cluster, And one says, ‘Do not destroy it, For a blessing is in it,’ So will I do for My servants’ sake, That I may not destroy them all.

9 I will bring forth descendants from Jacob, And from Judah an heir of My mountains; My elect shall inherit it, And My servants shall dwell there.

10 Sharon shall be a fold of flocks, And the Valley of Achor a place for herds to lie down, For My people who have sought Me.

11 “But you are those who forsake the Lord, Who forget My holy mountain, Who prepare a table for Gad, And who furnish a drink offering for Meni.

12 Therefore I will number you for the sword, And you shall all bow down to the slaughter; Because, when I called, you did not answer; When I spoke, you did not hear, But did evil before My eyes, And chose that in which I do not delight.”

13 Therefore thus says the Lord God: “Behold, My servants shall eat, But you shall be hungry; Behold, My servants shall drink, But you shall be thirsty; Behold, My servants shall rejoice, But you shall be ashamed;

14 Behold, My servants shall sing for joy of heart, But you shall cry for sorrow of heart, And wail for grief of spirit.

15 You shall leave your name as a curse to My chosen; For the Lord God will slay you, And call His servants by another name;

16 So that he who blesses himself in the earth Shall bless himself in the God of truth; And he who swears in the earth Shall swear by the God of truth; Because the former troubles are forgotten, And because they are hidden from My eyes.

Genesis 46:1-7 

1 So Israel took his journey with all that he had, and came to Beersheba, and offered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac.

2 Then God spoke to Israel in the visions of the night, and said, “Jacob, Jacob!” And he said, “Here I am.”

3 So He said, “I am God, the God of your father; do not fear to go down to Egypt, for I will make of you a great nation there.

4 “I will go down with you to Egypt, and I will also surely bring you up again; and Joseph will put his hand on your eyes.”

5 Then Jacob arose from Beersheba; and the sons of Israel carried their father Jacob, their little ones, and their wives, in the carts which Pharaoh had sent to carry him.

6 So they took their livestock and their goods, which they had acquired in the land of Canaan, and went to Egypt, Jacob and all his descendants with him.

7 His sons and his sons’ sons, his daughters and his sons’ daughters, and all his descendants he brought with him to Egypt.

[dalyunministry]

Bro. Calvin Nii Bannerman

💗

RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD

DATE : 30th October, 2020.

Father God in the name of Jesus! I thank You for my life and the person(s) reading this life. Please forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness and purge our sins with the everlasting blood of JESUS. Let us be Holy You have predestined pathways for us to walk down. Holy Spirit lead us our savior JESUS Christ. Amen

The title of my message is RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD, real relationship has to be based on reality, let me explain it. There are couples who get married, and they get married in haste, they don't think things through, the physical attractions too great and they think they can work their problems so they get married.

Later , they file for divorce and here is what they say, "the person that I thought I marrying was not the person I am married ". What was the problem? They had a relationship but it wasn't based on reality. The most important thing as humans is our relationship with God, because how you see God is going to determine about you. If your view of God is wrong , your view of life is wrong. If your view of God is wrong, your view of success is wrong. If your view of God is wrong, your view of important is wrong.

1. THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN LIFE IS TO HAVE A REAL RELATIONSHIP WITH THE REAL GOD.

If God is real, the most important thing is to have a real relationship with Him. We are going to find out an incident that took place 2500 years ago about a prophet named Isaiah. This message is going to teach you how to have a relationship with God like how you can have a relationship with your mother, father, son, daughter siblings etc. First of all we have to find out who is the real God we are trying to connect to, to begin with. To do that we are going to look at how Isaiah said how to relate with right God in a real God.

1. I will see God for who He really is.

Isaiah begins to tell us the exact year this incident took place in his life. Isaiah 6:1 In the year that king Uzziah died...

• Why did he write that done, why did he put it down in the text?

Let me tell you why that year was so important, because this was the year something happened in Isaiah's life that was so huge and so important and so life changing he can point out the exact date , the exact day and time. He can tell you what happened. You have to understand the background of the story. Back in bible days , there was a king who reigned in Judah, and his name was Uzziah, he was one of the most successful kings because he strengthen the economy, everybody was doing well and he provided them the 3 basic things any nation will loved, they had peace, prosperity and security , they didn't worry about anybody coming to conquer the land. Now they were kind of in a this crisis mode because an enemy named Syria is on a rising and Syria has a large army , much larger than Judah, much more powerful than Judah has. Now they know the king is dead , they have been watching the whole situation unfold. So this giant cloud of fear has blocked this sunshine of joy , now this people are really in a panic . They don't know who to turn to, they don't know what to do, because their leader has died. And then this happens, Isaiah 6:1 ...I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne,...

Whenever I read this part of the Bible I skipped it until I understood it's significance, from the beginning of the Bible to the book of Isaiah, no one has ever seen that before. Moses, Daniel, Jeremiah , David, Ezekiah nobody had ever seen this picture of God ever and here's Isaiah for the first time being allowed to see such a picture.

He sees the creator of the universe, the king of Kings and the Lord of Lords and He's sitting on a throne and not just an earthly throne but an eternal throne. He goes on to tell us the kind of throne He saw

Isaiah 6:1 In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple. Now put all in a context, what did Isaiah said, the year that king Uzziah died I see another king , this is what he's trying to let us understand, there are 2 kings in verse 1 for a reason, you have a mortal king and an immortal king. You have a king who's dead and a king who can't die , you have a human king and a divine king.

You have a king that someone can take his place and another no one can take His place . Isaiah focus wasn't the king who had been buried but a king who can't be buried. What Isaiah saw then is what God wants us to see right now, remember these were trouble days Isaiah and the nation of Judah , good king had died and they were without a leader , they were like a sheep without a shepherd .

A Syria is on the horizon and they don't know what is going to happen, when things are going bad , God says to Isaiah, 'Tell my people when things are going bad look up,when things look hopeless, fear not. When Isaiah saw the real God , he saw clearly what we need to see today. Isaiah says I see a God on a throne, He got his hands on the throttle, He is in complete control . In the midst of all this, there's a sovereign God who is in control and we don't have to worry about anything else.

The thing we need to remember is there's a God who's High and lifted up, He is sitting on a Throne , He's in control, He knows what He's doing , He has never made a mistake. He got everything exactly where He wants them to be.

Now the story continues....Isaiah 6:2-3 Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly. And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory. This is the most important picture of God in the old testament or probably the whole of the Bible. Now we know what makes God GOD. These angelic creatures, the seraphims, they're are calling out continuously HOLY HOLY HOLY is the Lord of host. The see a God who is Holy, the chief attribute of God is not love, it's not mercy , it's not grace, the chief attribute of God is HOLINESS. The Hebrew word for Holiness is a word literally meaning to separate, it comes from a semantic word meaning to cut, it is a picture of cutting an object to separating one piece from the other piece.

In other words Holy is to separate and to set apart and it's so different from everything else that it got to be treated like that. What the seraphims are telling us is this, the God that we are serving is a God eternity removed from us. He's holy and we are not. He's a different creature that we have to treat Him differently than any other creature. You can't compare with any other creature, there's no one like Him, there's nothing else like Him, He's holy, therefore we have to see Him differently and relate to Him differently than anyone else or anything else. By the way, do you know why the word Holy is repeated 3× ? Is not because God is deaf, in Hebrew poetry, repetition was the way you emphasize on something ,in this our generation if we want to emphasize something we underline it or we bold it or write it in CAPS, they didn't do that back in that day. Back in that day, In Hebrew language, if you want to emphasize something and raise it to the highest level, you will repeat it, and it is not coincidental that in the entire bible anything repeated about God than the attributes about His Holiness.

God is HOLY HOLY HOLY, that is the only attribute of God of all the attributes of Him.

Is God merciful? YES.

Is God loving? YES.

Is God gracious? YES.

Of all the attributes of God , what really makes God is ,HE is HOLY HOLY HOLY and remember how I see God determines how I relate to Him , that's why we are told in verse 3 ...the whole earth is full of his glory. His glory doesn't just feel the temple, but His glory feels the entire earth , I will tell you why Isaiah put that out there, there's nothing more disgusting than we put God in our little box or we try to say this is the God I want Him to be. When it comes to God you have to think outside the box , you can have a box. God doesn't fit the Catholic box, the Baptist box or the Presbyterian box , He doesn't fit in any body's box. His glory feels the entire earth the bible says. If I'm going to relate to God the right way, I have to see God the way He really His. How will you really know you have seen God the way He really is?

This is simple, when I see God the way He really is,

2. I WILL SEE ME THE WAY I REALLY AM.

As soon as Isaiah sees the real God see how his reaction was in 4

Isaiah 6:4-5 And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house was filled with smoke.

Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts.

When Isaiah sees God through the wind of His HOLINESS, the wind becomes a mirror and all of a sudden He seems himself in his sinfulness , because when you see how Holy God is ,you see how unholy you're. When you see how righteous God is ,you see how unrighteous you're. You will not see yourself of what you truly are until you see God of who He truly is. When Isaiah saw who he truly was ,he didn't like the picture, see what he said in verse 5 I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips...

The word undone or ruin is, to come unravel, a lot of the Jewish knew him as a prophet and a righteous man but when he came in contact with God he came apart "I am a man of unclean lips" that's what Isaiah says. I am dirty, all my so called integrity , decency is compared to your HOLINESS. Because when God is high and lifted up we will be brought low and taken down. When we get honest with our relationship with God, He gets merciful with us. Look verse 6, Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar:

This verse tells us how God loves the sinner and He hates the sin, perfect illustration, because what Isaiah hated about himself , you know what Isaiah, I hate it too. But you know what I love you more than I hate your sin, so you know what I'm going to take care of your sin problem. You said you are dirty, yes you're, but I'm going to clean you up,you know you deserve Justice but I'm going to give you mercy . One thing that has to happen for us to have a real relationship with God is we have to get real with God.

3. I WILL SEE OTHERS THE WAY THEY REALLY ARE.

Isaiah 6:8 Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.

Look what happens to Isaiah, He got real close with God and he eavesdropping a conference call with the TRINITY. When you read the verse again, God wasn't talking to Himself,He didn't say who will go for me? 'He said who will go for us'. He was talking about God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit and Isaiah is listening to the conversation.

Isaiah says Isaiah 6:8... Here am I; send me. This is so refreshing, the deeper you go with God in your relationship the more you will surrender who you're to who He is.

• How do I know I have surrendered to God?

Here is how you'll know, You have to surrender to God and you will do anything God tells you to do even if it means you'll fail or even if it means you'll die. God comes to Isaiah and says Isaiah, you need to tell other people about the encounter. They need to have the real relationship with Me like you did, they need to be cleansed like you did. Write it down

Isaiah 6:9-11 And he said, Go, and tell this people, Hear ye indeed, but understand not; and see ye indeed, but perceive not.

Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and convert, and be healed. Then said I, Lord, how long? And he answered, Until the cities be wasted without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land be utterly desolate,

• Do you understand what God said to Isaiah?

I want you to tell them what I want you to tell them but they are not going to listen, I want you to preach to the people, exactly what I have told you but they're not going to respond.

• Isaiah, are you willing to do that? Isaiah says here am I Lord send me.

• Why will Isaiah agree to that? Here's why, because Isaiah finally understood how this works , all God wants from me and my relationship with Him is to be FAITHFUL. He doesn't call me to be successful, faithfulness is my part, success is God's part . Don't ever judge a pastor or a minister by how big his ministry or church is growing. There are a lot of Isaiahs out there and they are preaching and they are faithful as faithful can be and God has placed them there to do His work like those with big and huge ministries. There's no where God rewards success, God rewards faithfulness, so all what God wants us from is faithfulness , so when God asks who will go for me, say God 'here am I send me'. Wrapping it up, what does all this mean. God is Holy, what is the big point, because God is Holy, we got to be Holy ,we want to be like Him, that's exactly what Peter said in 1st Peter 1:15-16 But as he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation;

Because it is written, Be ye holy; for I am holy.

Now let me tell you what this means and I will close, you want to get close with God, you will take your life and tell God , here am I send me ,you'll take your money and say here is it Lord, use it for your glory and your honor. God is so Holy, He is so Holy, He sent His son Jesus to die for the one thing that will keep us from being Holy and keep us from being related to Him. And He raised Jesus from the dead to prove that through Him we can have a real relationship with Him that will last for all eternity and then we can see God more clearly than ever.

Thank you

[scripture-pictures]

https://victorcarjan.blogspot.com/2018/11/bible-case-for-no-have-baby.html?m=1 Scripture to back up why I think its wrong to have babies!

Isaiah 13:8 And they shall be afraid: pangs and sorrows shall take hold of them;

they shall be in pain as a woman that travaileth:

they shall be amazed one at another; their faces shall be as flames.

1st: A horrible punishment from God is letting some guys know they will be in pain

like a woman giving birth!.....normally never have to think about this;

but if its so bad to me, why would I accept this precept of "nature" to put the girl I theoretically

would really love, in this sort of punishment!

Is it a punishment?

my answer is YES!!

Genesis 3:16

“Unto the woman he said,

I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and

thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children;

and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.”

2nd Definitely a punishment the amount of pain they go through!;

so one way to avoid this punishment would be to avoid having the babies right?

I perceive, that is what I would do and if one is truly a believer and has faith,

then they would be willing to wait until the after-life right?

ISAIAH 56:4 For thus saith the LORD unto the eunuchs

that keep my sabbaths, and choose the things that please me, and take hold of my covenant;

5 Even unto them will I give in mine house and within my walls a place

and a name better than of sons and of daughters:

I will give them an everlasting name, that shall not be cut off.

3rd point: Eunuchs, as far as I understand, means like a barren man;

a man that doesn't have babies, or can't have babies, or chooses not to have babies.

Sounds like God says he will reward them better than the sons and daughters!..

.so then its a reward?

Jesus in LUKE 23:29

28But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem,

weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children.

29For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say,

Blessed are the barren,

and the wombs that never bare,

and the paps which never gave suck.

30Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills,

Cover us. 31For if they do these things

in a green tree,

what shall be done in the dry?

ISAIAH Chapter 32

9 Rise up, ye women that are at ease; hear my voice,

ye careless daughters; give ear unto my speech.

10 Many days and years shall ye be troubled,

ye careless women: for the vintage shall fail, the gathering shall not come.

11 Tremble, ye women that are at ease; be troubled, ye careless ones:

strip you, and make you bare, and gird sackcloth upon your loins.

12 They shall lament for the teats,

for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine.

4th: who are they? I'm not sure!...but as I remember at this point, the context of his message

was that it was good to not have babies at least in those days for sure!..

but its a help to an argument using scripture as the sword and shield to state its better to

not have babies in this world presently in.

ISAIAH 54:1 Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear;

break forth into singing, and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail

with child: for more are the children of the desolate

than the children of the married wife, saith the LORD.

5th: Clearly God, creator, is saying to woman to sing and be happy and rejoice

like she won something by not having babies!.. she avoided a major punishment

of woman by not having babies, I believe that is certainly true!...

Jeremiah 16:1-4

1The word of the LORD came also unto me, saying,

2Thou shalt not take thee a wife, neither shalt thou have sons

or daughters in this place.

3For thus saith the LORD concerning the sons and concerning the daughters

that are born in this place, and concerning their mothers that bare

them, and concerning their fathers that begat them in this land;

4They shall die of grievous deaths; they shall not be lamented;

neither shall they be buried; but they shall be as dung upon the face of the earth:

and they shall be consumed by the sword, and by famine; and

their carcases shall be meat for the fowls of heaven, and for the

beasts of the earth.

(sounds like the Feast of the fowls at the end of the days as mentioned in

Revelations and in the old testament of Ezekiel,

please fear God and pay the respects due to make full good of these warnings)

Jeremiah 4:31 For I have heard a voice as of a woman in travail,

and the anguish as of her that bringeth forth her first child,

the voice of the daughter of Zion, that bewaileth herself...

6th ahh, pain...the first child must be a lot worse than its true;

the first one hurts more and after that its been opened already and stretched out

so I guess it makes sense..but I just don't like it anymore at all. its too gruesome sounding..

Jeremiah 13:21 What wilt thou say when he shall punish thee?

for thou hast taught them to be captains,

and as chief over thee: shall not sorrows take thee,

as a woman in travail?

Jeremiah 22:23 O inhabitant of Lebanon, that makest thy nest in the cedars,

how gracious shalt thou be when pangs come upon thee,

the pain as of a woman in travail!

7th: Its not gracious and its a punishment; and its a warning from God to man,

that if you do wrong won't you get punished like a woman in travail or something?

HORRIBLE!! thus if I conclude its a horrible punishment how can I then justify

wanting to put someone through it?

Prayer; please God never let me have to go through pains

like a woman in travail or anything like it;

or like how Krillin from dragon ball z was depicted in those videos to help understand scripture;

please help me;

I do believe that before the punishment it was different having babies;

I don't know how exactly; but clearly different since it says greatly multiplying the pain..

8.24.18 2.34 A.M. update

Thoughts: Thus then, if we be towards the end of the world based on all the signs shown;

we may be in a similar scenario

ECCLESIASTES 3:5 a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

1 JOHN 3: 9 Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin;

for his seed remaineth in him: and he cannot sin,

because he is born of God.

Leviticus 12 WHY SIN OFFERING FOR HAVING BABY?

1And the LORD spake unto Moses, saying, 2Speak unto the children of Israel, saying,

If a woman have conceived seed, and born a man child:

then she shall be unclean seven days; according to the days

of the separation for her infirmity shall she be unclean.

5But if she bear a maid child, then she shall be unclean

two weeks, as in her separation: and she shall continue in the blood of

her purifying threescore and six days.

6 And when the days of her purifying are fulfilled, for a son, or for a daughter,

she shall bring a lamb of the first year for a burnt offering, and a young pigeon,

or a turtledove, for a sin offering, unto the door of the tabernacle

of the congregation, unto the priest:

7 Who shall offer it before the LORD, and make an atonement for her; and

she shall be cleansed from the issue of her blood. This is the law for her that hath

born a male or a female.

8 And if she be not able to bring a lamb, then she shall bring two turtles,

or two young pigeons; the one for the burnt offering, and the

other for a sin offering: and the priest shall make an atonement for her,

and she shall be clean.

MISCELLANEOUS

Jesus said in MATTHEW 24:19

19 And woe unto them that are with child,

and to them that give suck in those days!

Jesus said in LUKE 21:22+23

22 For these be the days of vengeance, that all things which are written may be fulfilled.

23 But woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck, in those days!

for there shall be great distress in the land, and wrath upon this people.

Jesus said in MARK 13:17

17 But woe to them that are with child, and to them that give suck in those days!

This regarding HOSEA 9, I believe can be best understood when referencing the passage

in ECCLESIASTES where the preacher saw all the oppressions done under the sun and praised the

dead more than the living, and said that better than both the dead and the living was that which never

existed. We also have Jeremiah in the book of JEREMIAH wishing he was never born, and Jonah in

JONAH wishing for death, and even Elijah wanting to not live. So if the world is a painful place to exist,

to bring a child into that world wouldn’t be righteous, and thus,

God giving them a miscarrying womb could be a greatly misunderstood mercy!

Who would feel good about bringing a child into this world to have it

be treated like the woman in Gibeah from Judges 19?

HOSEA 9

9 They have deeply corrupted themselves, as in the days of Gibeah: therefore

he will remember their iniquity, he will visit their sins.

11 As for Ephraim, their glory shall fly away like a bird, from the birth, and from the womb, and from the conception.

12 Though they bring up their children, yet will I bereave them,

that there shall not be a man left: yea, woe also to them when I depart from them!

13 Ephraim, as I saw Tyrus, is planted in a pleasant place:

but Ephraim shall bring forth his children to the murderer.

14 Give them, O LORD: what wilt thou give? give them a miscarrying womb and dry breasts.

Only more recently did I see this prayer by Hosea as a prayer of Mercy and love.

I wonder if others had similar experiences searching for the kingdom of God and his righteousness.

Also remember Rachel died during giving birth to her 2nd Child,

Genesis 35:16 ...and Rachel travailed, and she had hard labour. 17And it came to pass, when she was in hard labour, that the midwife said unto her, Fear not; thou shalt have

this son also. 18And it came to pass, as her soul was in departing,

(for she died) that she called his name Benoni:

but his father called him Benjamin. 19And Rachel died...

Jeremiah 9:24 King James Version (KJV)

24 But let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord which exercise lovingkindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth: for in these things I delight, saith the Lord.

[dfroza]

where is your treasure?

it is where your hope will lead you, the real you (your heart, your spirit) to be.

A point made clear by our King in the ancient teaching written down and conserved in Today’s reading from the book of Matthew

chapter #6

[The World Is Not a Stage]

“Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don’t make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won’t be applauding.

“When you do something for someone else, don’t call attention to yourself. You’ve seen them in action, I’m sure—‘playactors’ I call them—treating prayer meeting and street corner alike as a stage, acting compassionate as long as someone is watching, playing to the crowds. They get applause, true, but that’s all they get. When you help someone out, don’t think about how it looks. Just do it—quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who conceived you in love, working behind the scenes, helps you out.

[Pray with Simplicity]

“And when you come before God, don’t turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat?

“Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.

“The world is full of so-called prayer warriors who are prayer-ignorant. They’re full of formulas and programs and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don’t fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you are dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this:

Our Father in heaven,

Reveal who you are.

Set the world right;

Do what’s best—

as above, so below.

Keep us alive with three square meals.

Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.

Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.

You’re in charge!

You can do anything you want!

You’re ablaze in beauty!

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“In prayer there is a connection between what God does and what you do. You can’t get forgiveness from God, for instance, without also forgiving others. If you refuse to do your part, you cut yourself off from God’s part.

“When you practice some appetite-denying discipline to better concentrate on God, don’t make a production out of it. It might turn you into a small-time celebrity but it won’t make you a saint. If you ‘go into training’ inwardly, act normal outwardly. Shampoo and comb your hair, brush your teeth, wash your face. God doesn’t require attention-getting devices. He won’t overlook what you are doing; he’ll reward you well.

[A Life of God-Worship]

“Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or—worse!—stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.

“Your eyes are windows into your body. If you open your eyes wide in wonder and belief, your body fills up with light. If you live squinty-eyed in greed and distrust, your body is a dank cellar. If you pull the blinds on your windows, what a dark life you will have!

“You can’t worship two gods at once. Loving one god, you’ll end up hating the other. Adoration of one feeds contempt for the other. You can’t worship God and Money both.

“If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don’t fuss about what’s on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds.

“Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.

“If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.

The Book of Matthew, Chapter 6 (The Message)

A chapter containing 34 verses as a mirroring of the alphabetic number of the word “grace”

and Light (the Spirit) illuminates the significance of grace to the heart (inside, Anew) in the True illumination of the Son

A chapter of the New Testament that is paired with Ezekiel 13 of which speaks of God’s Heart against lies:

The word of the Eternal came to me with two more messages about Jerusalem.

Eternal One: Son of man, preach against the false prophets of Israel—the ones making up predictions and visions out of their own imaginations. Tell them to listen to the real word of the Eternal One! The Eternal Lord says woe to those foolish prophets whose message is based on their own spirits and have not had a vision! Your prophets, Israel, are like jackals foraging through the ruins. You have put forth no effort to repair the broken-down defenses or to reinforce the wall around the city so that it will stand strong in battle on the day the Eternal sends His judgment. Their warnings and predictions are all false. They utter only lies. They speak in the name of the Lord, claiming, “the Eternal declares,” but I have not sent them. The funny thing is, they actually expect their predictions to come true. Did you not perceive a false vision and speak an untrue divination when you proclaimed, “The Eternal declares,” although I hadn’t said anything at all?

So I say because you have spoken falsely and have seen empty visions, I am against you who prophesy out of your own imaginations. I will set My hand against those who see false visions and lying divinations. These self-proclaimed soothsayers will not be a part of the council of My people or be listed among the people of Israel. They will be forbidden from entering the sacred land of Israel. Then you will know I am the Eternal Lord. It is because these false prophets have lied to My people and led them off course, saying, “Everything is peaceful and fine,” when nothing is peaceful or fine. When the people build a weak and wobbly wall, the false prophets are right behind them, coating it with plaster. Tell these plasterers that your wall is going to fall. Torrential rains will pour down upon your lies, hail will pound your flimsy creation, and mighty winds will knock down your fabricated dreams. And guess what? When your nicely plastered wall collapses, the people will ask you, “Where is your plaster? Didn’t it strengthen the wall?” So I say that in My fury I will release a mighty wind to knock it down. In My anger I will produce hailstorms and torrential rains to destroy it. I will demolish the wall you covered with plaster and level it to the ground so that nothing is left but its foundation. When your wall falls, you will be destroyed. Then you will know I am the Eternal. This is how My wrath will be satisfied against the wall and those who covered it with plaster. Then I will say to you that there is nothing left of the wall or those who plastered it—those fraudulent seers of Israel who prophesied concerning Jerusalem, claiming everything was peaceful and fine when everything was not peaceful or fine.

Now, son of man, you must also preach against the women of your people who prophesy out of their own imaginations. Preach against these false prophetesses, and tell them the Eternal Lord says, “Woe to the women who sew magic charms on wrists and make veils of various sizes for heads in order to hunt down souls with their magic. Do you actually think you can entrap the souls of My people for your own purposes without endangering your own lives? You have profaned Me among My people, trading precious souls for a few scraps of barley and bread. Your lies have caused many to die who should not have and many to live who should not have, all because they listened to your lies.”

I, the Eternal Lord, have this to say regarding your enchantments: I oppose your magic charms you use to hunt precious souls like birds! I will strip them from your wrists and set the people free. I will tear off your veils and rescue My people from your power; they will no longer fall prey to your hunt. Then you will know I am the Eternal One. Because you have discouraged the innocent and unsuspecting with your lies and deceptions when I left them in peace, and because you have encouraged the wicked instead of showing them the error of their ways so they could live, you will no longer conjure up lying visions or practice divination. For I will save My people from your seductive powers. Then you will know I am the Eternal One.

The Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

and the significance of the heart and our thought-lives along with the words we speak is seen in Today’s chapter of the book of Proverbs for October 5:

Listen to me, my son,

for I know what I’m talking about.

Listen carefully to my advice

so that wisdom and discernment will enter your heart,

and then the words you speak will express what you’ve learned.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 5:1-2 (The Passion Translation)

A chapter that concludes with the significance of the “Oneness” created in sex, specifcally in a marital relationship, of which was designed by Love (by God) in the joining of a man and a woman since it is impossible for a pairing of the same gender to become as “One” body.

[Sex Reserved for Marriage]

My son, share your love with your wife alone.

Drink from her well of pleasure and from no other.

Why would you have sex with a stranger

or with anyone other than her?

Reserve this pleasure for you and her alone and not with another.

Your sex life will be blessed

as you take joy and pleasure in the wife of your youth.

Let her breasts be your satisfaction,

and let her embrace intoxicate you at all times.

Be continually delighted and ravished with her love!

My son, why would you be exhilarated by an adulteress—

by embracing a woman who is not yours?

For God sees everything you do and his eyes are wide open

as he observes every single habit you have.

Beware that your sins don’t overtake you

and the scars of your own conscience

become the ropes that tie you up.

Those who choose wickedness die for lack of self-control,

for their foolish ways lead them astray,

carrying them away as hostages—

kidnapped captives robbed of destiny.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 5:15-23 (The Passion Translation)

my reading of the Scriptures for Saturday, October 5, the 13th day of Autumn and day 278 of the year:

[spideychelle-romanogers]

Trying To Mend It

Making of Michelle Jones - Prologue, Chapter 6

Start from the beginning || Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

After catching Michelle stealing jewels, the new mystery she brings into Peter's life defines his next adventure. There are new dangers coming to NYC and Michelle is playing a bigger part in Spider-Man's mission than Peter ever imagined.

Chapter 6: After a traumatic experience, Peter finds himself healing through his friendship with Michelle.

T/W: none  Beta: Splendid_Splendont  Tags: spideychelle, pan!Peter, demi!Michelle, slow burn

It was Thursday morning and Peter had never felt that his life would be so…dull after everything. The woes of the weeks past were still on his mind, leaving this permanent heat at the back of his neck like something bad was going to happen. Ned would often find ways to calm him down during lunch and Michelle would call him out when he got too lost in his thoughts. Between the two of them, Peter managed to get through the days. For half the week, Michelle was absent but he didn't ask any questions for once when she came back.

Not that it wasn't a surprise to him. Peter was sitting in his biology class ignoring the notes he could have been taking and reading the headlines about Spider-Man instead. His alter ego had been receiving some interest after his back alley bar fight footage went viral, and he was trending online on social media. Hey, there were even a few fan clubs, too! Every now and then Peter would also spot a blog article about how the bank robbers were still at large. Huh, and the-

"-You still stalking that guy?" Michelle's sudden question made him jump, startling him out of his thoughts. How she managed to sneak up on him with his heightened hearing was a mystery. Peter immediately shut off his tablet and turned to her.

"Hey, you're back!" The enthusiasm was supposed to sound sarcastic but to his surprise it came out like he was far too excited.

"What are you hiding?" Michelle seemed amused but to Peter's confusion she pulled out her phone and intently stared at the screen. Peter watched her, waiting for her to finish whatever she was doing but her focus didn't relent.

"You've missed a lot of notes, you know," He said suddenly, realizing he wanted her attention back. This was an unfamiliar feeling. "I could give them to you later. There's a big exam coming up if you want to study togeth-"

Michelle took the tablet out of his hands and unlocked it.

"How di-" Peter found himself asking too late. Michelle scanned the opened tabs before Peter interrupted her thoughts. "How do you know my passcode?"

"It's your birthday."

Peter stared.

"Wait, wha-I... how did you know my birthda-" Michelle showed him her phone. His birthdate was splayed out on his Facebook profile.

"You're not very interesting, Parker," She said, before smiling a little at his expense. Peter opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong when her smile became…reassuring? Once upon a time, this was such an unfamiliar look. It was as though going through something horrible was enough to make Michelle see a different side to him. Someone she could relate to, perhaps.

Peter had to stop thinking like this.

"He's going to catch them, these things take time," She continued. Peter looked down at his tablet. The last tab left open was speculating how Spider-Man was going to take the robbers down.

"How do you know he's a 'he'?" Peter asked, to change the subject, "could be a girl."

She shot him a dry look. "He asks to be called Spider-Man and I'm willing to take his word for it." Michelle stopped paying attention to Peter like she always did and went back to her book. That bothered him, he just wanted her to keep the conversation going, keep talking.

At the end of class, Michelle called his name and Peter stopped and turned so fast even she seemed taken aback. "I hope you don't mind but I told my dad."

Peter realized she normally avoided talking about her dad unless she was talking to Spider-Man. "About….?" Michelle nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"My dad's visiting May later today. I just wanted you to hear it from me first in case I overstepped."

"Oh." Peter knew he couldn't say much without giving himself away. "That'll be good for her." Peter was about to walk away, but even as he turned he thought to himself about how he slammed her locker door and just how wrong it felt. Michelle shouldn't be checking with him if telling her father was okay. Now was time for Peter to own up to his behavior, despite having a very good excuse for it.

So he turned around to say as much... and she was gone. Peter stared at the space she was as if she'd reappear.

He did everything he could in that moment to convince himself not to run home to see her father for himself.

The guilt wasn't minimized at all by the chance to suit up in the daytime on a weekday. He just had to see Michelle's father. Crawling up the wall of his apartment, he sat on the fire escape by his window and watched them. Aunt May was taking the kettle off the stove to make them tea, and there was a short man sitting at the counter there. His back looked straight, but he held it with a light hand on the back of his hips. He didn't have to wince for you to know something was off with his posture.

Peter never realized he wanted to know where Michelle got her forceful authoritative tone that was so pronounced it could last in a whisper, but the answer was certainly what he needed. Her father had the same sound. He had the grumpiness to his tone of a much older man. Peter smiled to himself. Like father, like daughter.

"But this... this lab, are you sure?" May continued.

"Yes. I can't live this way much longer," Michelle's father broke his stiff posture and leant heavily on the counter. "I need to work. Can't sit at home or live between doctor's appointments; Michelle's been cutting school to help-"

His aunt looked up from pouring. "What if….nevermind." May just sighed.

He gave her a knowing look, "What if something goes wrong? Yeah, I know. Hope it never comes to that, but with Vincent away I have to try something; We're struggling enough as it is."

"How is Vin?" She handed him his cup, "Have you visited him yet?"

Peter watched as the two of them slowly relaxed around one another as the conversation continued. They were much more at ease now.

"Yeah, he's more worried about me than himself. The lawyer's awful. Too young. Probably Peter's age."

May let out a chuckle that didn't feel like she was acting at all. It was something rare to hear, especially after everything that happened. "I doubt that, David."

Michelle's father, David sighed. "But he looks like it, May. Don't change the subject, though. How are you doing? You've hardly..." the words faded as Peter began crawling back down the fire escape. Aunt May deserved at least some privacy. And now he worried that maybe he really owed Michelle the same respect.

Speaking of which, she was late. Peter waited for her in the tunnel, writing in his journal to pass the time. It was uncomfortable to do while suited up but he couldn't run the risk. He wrote about the way fear made its way into his life in a way he didn't think he'd ever have to worry about. He thought about mortality in a way that was almost surreal.

Thinking about your own death was difficult enough at his age but having superpowers made the whole thing so much more unbelievable. Yet, he'd imagine situations where he could die, and what that would cost the people who he cared about.

That made him stop writing for a moment, just thinking about how the last few weeks had fluctuated up and down. The trauma was so sudden and there was no warning.

It reminded him of the time his parents watched The Titanic with him, not knowing the plot twist in the movie. He'd grow up making fun of them for this but he remembered at the time the story was so pleasant and then BAM! The boat was sinking. That's how these weeks felt that now that he'd pulled out of the dark.

He still couldn't believe his parents hadn't known the plot.

And that shock in his system was really universal - even in how he behaved with Michelle. First, he was laughing with her, then he was angry, now… now he was hoping to have more of her attention than he already did. The makings of a friendship? Hopefully, but Peter didn't really know what to think.

Michelle came in and startled him out of his thoughts.

"Everyone jumps when I enter a room," She complained, baffled.

"I was just distracted." And definitely not thinking about her, of course. "You ever seen the Titanic?" The words were out of his mouth before he could help them.

Michelle shot him a puzzled look. "Yeah..."

"My parents made me watch that when I was young. They didn't know the plot of the film. Everything was so great and happy and then it wasn't." This story felt so much more relevant in his head. "Can you believe that? They didn't know the boat would sink." Peter chuckled to himself but to his surprise Michelle wasn't joining him. She simply stared at him.

"Are you okay?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck."Yeah, sorry," he muttered sheepishly, "That was random. I'm fine." Michelle seemed blown away by his words. "What?"

"You never share," She told him, then elaborated further "Like, you never talk about your personal life - it's been months now and I still don't even know that much about you."

What was he supposed to say to that? "Oh... well that's the whole point to a secret identity?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's okay. It's just surprising," she explained. "Did you see it in theatres?"

"What?"

Michelle sat down beside him, mimicking his position. "The Titanic, how old were you?" Peter blinked; The Titanic came out before either of them were born.

"I-I didn't see it in theaters. It was a DVD." Michelle seemed embarrassed. "How old do you think I am?" He asked curiously.

"I just….I guess I was expecting- I don't know, Tony Stark. Sort of. Shouldn't have assumed." Now Peter was the one feeling awkward.

"What do you want to call me?" he asked after a long silence.

"What?"

"I can't tell you my name, but I'll go with whatever you choose."

"So…..Karen?"

"Michelle, shut up." They laughed, but there was a moment where she seemed thrown off by his exact choice of words.

"'Spider-Man' it is."

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[loveofyhwh]

September 17: Proverbs 23–24; Titus 2; Psalm 72; Proverbs 23:26–28

New Post has been published on https://loveofyhwh.com/september-17-proverbs-23-24-titus-2-psalm-72-proverbs-2326-28/

September 17: Proverbs 23–24; Titus 2; Psalm 72; Proverbs 23:26–28

Old Testament:

Proverbs 23–24

Proverbs 23–24 (Listen)

23   When you sit down to eat with a ruler,     observe carefully whatOr who‘>1 is before you, 2   and put a knife to your throat     if you are given to appetite. 3   Do not desire his delicacies,     for they are deceptive food. 4   Do not toil to acquire wealth;     be discerning enough to desist. 5   When your eyes light on it, it is gone,     for suddenly it sprouts wings,     flying like an eagle toward heaven. 6   Do not eat the bread of a man who is stingy;Hebrew whose eye is evil‘>2     do not desire his delicacies, 7   for he is like one who is inwardly calculating.Or for as he calculates in his soul, so is he‘>3     “Eat and drink!” he says to you,     but his heart is not with you. 8   You will vomit up the morsels that you have eaten,     and waste your pleasant words. 9   Do not speak in the hearing of a fool,     for he will despise the good sense of your words. 10   Do not move an ancient landmark     or enter the fields of the fatherless, 11   for their Redeemer is strong;     he will plead their cause against you. 12   Apply your heart to instruction     and your ear to words of knowledge. 13   Do not withhold discipline from a child;     if you strike him with a rod, he will not die. 14   If you strike him with the rod,     you will save his soul from Sheol. 15   My son, if your heart is wise,     my heart too will be glad. 16   My inmost beingHebrew My kidneys‘>4 will exult     when your lips speak what is right. 17   Let not your heart envy sinners,     but continue in the fear of the LORD all the day. 18   Surely there is a future,     and your hope will not be cut off. 19   Hear, my son, and be wise,     and direct your heart in the way. 20   Be not among drunkardsHebrew those who drink too much wine‘>5     or among gluttonous eaters of meat, 21   for the drunkard and the glutton will come to poverty,     and slumber will clothe them with rags. 22   Listen to your father who gave you life,     and do not despise your mother when she is old. 23   Buy truth, and do not sell it;     buy wisdom, instruction, and understanding. 24   The father of the righteous will greatly rejoice;     he who fathers a wise son will be glad in him. 25   Let your father and mother be glad;     let her who bore you rejoice. 26   My son, give me your heart,     and let your eyes observeOr delight in‘>6 my ways. 27   For a prostitute is a deep pit;     an adulteressHebrew a foreign woman‘>7 is a narrow well. 28   She lies in wait like a robber     and increases the traitors among mankind. 29   Who has woe? Who has sorrow?     Who has strife? Who has complaining?   Who has wounds without cause?     Who has redness of eyes? 30   Those who tarry long over wine;     those who go to try mixed wine. 31   Do not look at wine when it is red,     when it sparkles in the cup     and goes down smoothly. 32   In the end it bites like a serpent     and stings like an adder. 33   Your eyes will see strange things,     and your heart utter perverse things. 34   You will be like one who lies down in the midst of the sea,     like one who lies on the top of a mast.Or of the rigging‘>8 35   “They struck me,” you will say,Hebrew lacks you will say‘>9 “but I was not hurt;     they beat me, but I did not feel it.   When shall I awake?     I must have another drink.” 24   Be not envious of evil men,     nor desire to be with them, 2   for their hearts devise violence,     and their lips talk of trouble. 3   By wisdom a house is built,     and by understanding it is established; 4   by knowledge the rooms are filled     with all precious and pleasant riches. 5   A wise man is full of strength,     and a man of knowledge enhances his might, 6   for by wise guidance you can wage your war,     and in abundance of counselors there is victory. 7   Wisdom is too high for a fool;     in the gate he does not open his mouth. 8   Whoever plans to do evil     will be called a schemer. 9   The devisingOr scheming‘>10 of folly is sin,     and the scoffer is an abomination to mankind. 10   If you faint in the day of adversity,     your strength is small. 11   Rescue those who are being taken away to death;     hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter. 12   If you say, “Behold, we did not know this,”     does not he who weighs the heart perceive it?   Does not he who keeps watch over your soul know it,     and will he not repay man according to his work? 13   My son, eat honey, for it is good,     and the drippings of the honeycomb are sweet to your taste. 14   Know that wisdom is such to your soul;     if you find it, there will be a future,     and your hope will not be cut off. 15   Lie not in wait as a wicked man against the dwelling of the righteous;     do no violence to his home; 16   for the righteous falls seven times and rises again,     but the wicked stumble in times of calamity. 17   Do not rejoice when your enemy falls,     and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles, 18   lest the LORD see it and be displeased,     and turn away his anger from him. 19   Fret not yourself because of evildoers,     and be not envious of the wicked, 20   for the evil man has no future;     the lamp of the wicked will be put out. 21   My son, fear the LORD and the king,     and do not join with those who do otherwise, 22   for disaster will arise suddenly from them,     and who knows the ruin that will come from them both?

More Sayings of the Wise

23 These also are sayings of the wise.

  Partiality in judging is not good. 24   Whoever says to the wicked, “You are in the right,”     will be cursed by peoples, abhorred by nations, 25   but those who rebuke the wicked will have delight,     and a good blessing will come upon them. 26   Whoever gives an honest answer     kisses the lips. 27   Prepare your work outside;     get everything ready for yourself in the field,     and after that build your house. 28   Be not a witness against your neighbor without cause,     and do not deceive with your lips. 29   Do not say, “I will do to him as he has done to me;     I will pay the man back for what he has done.” 30   I passed by the field of a sluggard,     by the vineyard of a man lacking sense, 31   and behold, it was all overgrown with thorns;     the ground was covered with nettles,     and its stone wall was broken down. 32   Then I saw and considered it;     I looked and received instruction. 33   A little sleep, a little slumber,     a little folding of the hands to rest, 34   and poverty will come upon you like a robber,     and want like an armed man.

Footnotes

[1] 23:1 Or who [2] 23:6 Hebrew whose eye is evil [3] 23:7 Or for as he calculates in his soul, so is he [4] 23:16 Hebrew My kidneys [5] 23:20 Hebrew those who drink too much wine [6] 23:26 Or delight in [7] 23:27 Hebrew a foreign woman [8] 23:34 Or of the rigging [9] 23:35 Hebrew lacks you will say [10] 24:9 Or scheming

(ESV)

New Testament:

Titus 2

Titus 2 (Listen)

Teach Sound Doctrine

2 But as for you, teach what accords with soundOr healthy; also verses 2, 8‘>1 doctrine. 2 Older men are to be sober-minded, dignified, self-controlled, sound in faith, in love, and in steadfastness. 3 Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, 4 and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, 5 to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled. 6 Likewise, urge the younger men to be self-controlled. 7 Show yourself in all respects to be a model of good works, and in your teaching show integrity, dignity, 8 and sound speech that cannot be condemned, so that an opponent may be put to shame, having nothing evil to say about us. 9 BondservantsFor the contextual rendering of the Greek word doulos, see Preface‘>2 are to be submissive to their own masters in everything; they are to be well-pleasing, not argumentative, 10 not pilfering, but showing all good faith, so that in everything they may adorn the doctrine of God our Savior.

11 For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, 12 training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, 13 waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, 14 who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works.

15 Declare these things; exhort and rebuke with all authority. Let no one disregard you.

Footnotes

[1] 2:1 Or healthy; also verses 2, 8 [2] 2:9 For the contextual rendering of the Greek word doulos, see Preface

(ESV)

Psalm:

Psalm 72

Psalm 72 (Listen)

Give the King Your Justice

Of Solomon.

72   Give the king your justice, O God,     and your righteousness to the royal son! 2   May he judge your people with righteousness,     and your poor with justice! 3   Let the mountains bear prosperity for the people,     and the hills, in righteousness! 4   May he defend the cause of the poor of the people,     give deliverance to the children of the needy,     and crush the oppressor! 5   May they fear youSeptuagint He shall endure‘>1 while the sun endures,     and as long as the moon, throughout all generations! 6   May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass,     like showers that water the earth! 7   In his days may the righteous flourish,     and peace abound, till the moon be no more! 8   May he have dominion from sea to sea,     and from the RiverThat is, the Euphrates‘>2 to the ends of the earth! 9   May desert tribes bow down before him,     and his enemies lick the dust! 10   May the kings of Tarshish and of the coastlands     render him tribute;   may the kings of Sheba and Seba     bring gifts! 11   May all kings fall down before him,     all nations serve him! 12   For he delivers the needy when he calls,     the poor and him who has no helper. 13   He has pity on the weak and the needy,     and saves the lives of the needy. 14   From oppression and violence he redeems their life,     and precious is their blood in his sight. 15   Long may he live;     may gold of Sheba be given to him!   May prayer be made for him continually,     and blessings invoked for him all the day! 16   May there be abundance of grain in the land;     on the tops of the mountains may it wave;     may its fruit be like Lebanon;   and may people blossom in the cities     like the grass of the field! 17   May his name endure forever,     his fame continue as long as the sun!   May people be blessed in him,     all nations call him blessed! 18   Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel,     who alone does wondrous things. 19   Blessed be his glorious name forever;     may the whole earth be filled with his glory!       Amen and Amen! 20   The prayers of David, the son of Jesse, are ended.

Footnotes

[1] 72:5 Septuagint He shall endure [2] 72:8 That is, the Euphrates

(ESV)

Proverb:

Proverbs 23:26–28

Proverbs 23:26–28 (Listen)

26   My son, give me your heart,     and let your eyes observeOr delight in‘>1 my ways. 27   For a prostitute is a deep pit;     an adulteressHebrew a foreign woman‘>2 is a narrow well. 28   She lies in wait like a robber     and increases the traitors among mankind.

Footnotes

[1] 23:26 Or delight in [2] 23:27 Hebrew a foreign woman

(ESV)

[dailybiblelessons]

Palm and Passion Sunday

This Sunday has two liturgies. One is for the triumphal entry of Christ into Jerusalem, and the other is for his betrayal and death. The lessons Isaiah and Philippians are used in both. The rest of the Passion Liturgy and the Liturgy of the Palms are in separate sections. Your church may use either of the liturgies.

Both Liturgies Hebrew Scripture Lesson from the Latter Prophets: Isaiah 50:4-9a

The Lord God has given me  the tongue of a teacher,  that I may know how to sustain  the weary with a word. Morning by morning he wakens—  wakens my ear  to listen as those who are taught. The Lord God has opened my ear,  and I was not rebellious,  I did not turn backward. I gave my back to those who struck me,  and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face  from insult and spitting.¹

The Lord God helps me;  therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint,  and I know that I shall not be put to shame;  he who vindicates me is near. Who will contend with me?  Let us stand up together. Who are my adversaries?  Let them confront me. It is the Lord God who helps me;  who will declare me guilty?

¹This verse is indirectly referred to in Jesus' prediction of his passion at Matthew 20:17-19, Mark 10:32-34, and Luke 18:31-34.

New Testament Epistle Lesson: Philippians 2:5-11

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

who, though he was in the form of God,  did not regard equality with God  as something to be exploited, but emptied himself,  taking the form of a slave,  being born in human likeness. And being found in human form,  he humbled himself  and became obedient to the point of death—   even death on a cross.

Therefore God also highly exalted him  and gave him the name  that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus  every knee should bend,  in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess  that Jesus Christ is Lord,  to the glory of God the Father.

Liturgy of the Palms

Liturgy of the Palms Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;  his steadfast love endures forever!

Let Israel say,  “His steadfast love endures forever.”

Open to me the gates of righteousness,  that I may enter through them  and give thanks to the Lord.

This is the gate of the Lord;  the righteous shall enter through it.

I thank you that you have answered me  and have become my salvation. The stone that the builders rejected  has become the chief cornerstone. This is the Lord's doing;  it is marvelous in our eyes.¹ This is the day that the Lord has made;  let us rejoice and be glad in it. Save us, we beseech you, O Lord!  O Lord, we beseech you, give us success!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.  We bless you from the house of the Lord.² The Lord is God, &emspand he has given us light. Bind the festal procession with branches,  up to the horns of the altar.

You are my God, and I will give thanks to you;  you are my God, I will extol you.

O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,  for his steadfast love endures forever.

¹Jesus quotes this scripture in the parable of the wicked tenants (Matthew 21:33-46, Mark 12:1-12, Luke 20:9-19). Peter quotes it when he and John are called before the Sanhedrin (Acts 4:1-22), and Peter again quotes it in his explanation that we are a chosen people (1 Peter 2:1-10). ²The people shout this verse in the accounts of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm/Passion Sunday (Matthew 21:1-11 Mark 11:1-11, Luke 19:28-40, and John 12:12-19), and John 12:12-19), and Jesus quotes this verse in response to the Pharisees who come to warn him of Herod's plans. See Luke 13:31-35. Jesus also quotes this verse in his lament over Jerusalem, found in Matthew 23:37-39 and Luke 13:31-35.

Liturgy of the Palms New Testament Gospel Lesson: Matthew 21:1-11

There are parallel passages at 4Mark 11:1-11, Luke 19:28-40, and John 12:12-19

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

“Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”¹

The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”²

When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

¹Zechariah 9:9   ²Psalm 118:25, 26

Psalm 31:9-16

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am in distress;  my eye wastes away from grief,  my soul and body also. For my life is spent with sorrow,  and my years with sighing; my strength fails because of my misery,  and my bones waste away.

I am the scorn of all my adversaries,  a horror to my neighbors, an object of dread to my acquaintances;  those who see me in the street flee from me. I have passed out of mind like one who is dead;  I have become like a broken vessel. For I hear the whispering of many—  terror all around!— as they scheme together against me,  as they plot to take my life.

But I trust in you, O Lord;  I say, “You are my God.” My times are in your hand;  deliver me from the hand of my enemies and persecutors. Let your face shine upon your servant;  save me in your steadfast love.

Liturgy of the Passion New Testament Gospel Lesson: Matthew 26:14-27:66

There are parallel passages at Mark 14:10-15:47, Luke 22:3-23:56, and John 13:21-28, 18:3-19:42.

Whenever possible, the entire narrative should be used. When necessary, the shorter version, set off by “==========” may be used.

Then one of the twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, “What will you give me if I betray him to you?” They paid him thirty pieces of silver. And from that moment he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.

On the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Where do you want us to make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?” He said, “Go into the city to a certain man, and say to him, ‘The Teacher says, My time is near; I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.’” So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them, and they prepared the Passover meal.

When it was evening, he took his place with the twelve; and while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?” He answered, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” Judas, who betrayed him, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?” He replied, “You have said so.”

While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom.”

When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.

Then Jesus said to them, “You will all become deserters because of me this night; for it is written,

‘I will strike the shepherd,  and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’¹

But after I am raised up, I will go ahead of you to Galilee.” Peter said to him, “Though all become deserters because of you, I will never desert you.” Jesus said to him, “Truly I tell you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter said to him, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And so said all the disciples.

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and agitated. Then he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.” Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, “So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Again he went away for the second time and prayed, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” Again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. So leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words. Then he came to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand.”

While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, arrived; with him was a large crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and the elders of the people. Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, “The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him.”

At once he came up to Jesus and said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed him. Jesus said to him, “Friend, do what you are here to do.” Then they came and laid hands on Jesus and arrested him. Suddenly, one of those with Jesus put his hand on his sword, drew it, and struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear. Then Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the scriptures be fulfilled, which say it must happen in this way?” At that hour Jesus said to the crowds, “Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit? Day after day I sat in the temple teaching, and you did not arrest me. But all this has taken place, so that the scriptures of the prophets may be fulfilled.” Then all the disciples deserted him and fled.

Those who had arrested Jesus took him to Caiaphas the high priest, in whose house the scribes and the elders had gathered. But Peter was following him at a distance, as far as the courtyard of the high priest; and going inside, he sat with the guards in order to see how this would end. Now the chief priests and the whole council were looking for false testimony against Jesus so that they might put him to death, but they found none, though many false witnesses came forward. At last two came forward and said, “This fellow said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God and to build it in three days.’” The high priest stood up and said, “Have you no answer? What is it that they testify against you?” But Jesus was silent. Then the high priest said to him, “I put you under oath before the living God, tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.” Jesus said to him, “You have said so. But I tell you, From now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven.²” Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “He has blasphemed! Why do we still need witnesses? You have now heard his blasphemy. What is your verdict?” They answered, “He deserves death.” Then they spat in his face and struck him; and some slapped him, saying, “Prophesy to us, you Messiah! Who is it that struck you?”

Now Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard. A servant-girl came to him and said, “You also were with Jesus the Galilean.” But he denied it before all of them, saying, “I do not know what you are talking about.” When he went out to the porch, another servant-girl saw him, and she said to the bystanders, “This man was with Jesus of Nazareth.” Again he denied it with an oath, “I do not know the man.” After a little while the bystanders came up and said to Peter, “Certainly you are also one of them, for your accent betrays you.” Then he began to curse, and he swore an oath, “I do not know the man!” At that moment the cock crowed. Then Peter remembered what Jesus had said: “Before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.” And he went out and wept bitterly.

When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people conferred together against Jesus in order to bring about his death. They bound him, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate the governor.

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself. But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money.³” After conferring together, they used them to buy the potter's field as a place to bury foreigners. For this reason that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah, “And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of the one on whom a price had been set, on whom some of the people of Israel had set a price, and they gave them for the potter's field, as the Lord commanded me.”

==========

Now Jesus stood before the governor; and the governor asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Jesus Barabbas. So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!”

So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man's blood; see to it yourselves.” Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” So he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified. Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor's headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat on him, and took the reed and struck him on the head. After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon; they compelled this man to carry his cross. And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall; but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots; then they sat down there and kept watch over him. Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.”

Then two bandits were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking him, saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to; for he said, ‘I am God's Son.’” The bandits who were crucified with him also taunted him in the same way.

From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o'clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?*” When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “This man is calling for Elijah.” At once one of them ran and got a sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.” Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many. Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God's Son!”

==========

Many women were also there, looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee and had provided for him. Among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.

When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who was also a disciple of Jesus. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus; then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock. He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb. The next day, that is, after the day of Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate and said, “Sir, we remember what that impostor said while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ Therefore command the tomb to be made secure until the third day; otherwise his disciples may go and steal him away, and tell the people, ‘He has been raised from the dead,’ and the last deception would be worse than the first.” Pilate said to them, “You have a guard of soldiers; go, make it as secure as you can.” So they went with the guard and made the tomb secure by sealing the stone.

¹Zechariah 15:7   ²This is a reference to Daniel 7:13   ³This is a reference to Zechariah 11:12-13 Jeremiah 19:1-13a and Jeremiah 32:6-9   Psalm 22:1

Year A Lent 6 Palm/Passion Sunday

Bible verses from The New Revised Standard Version, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All right reserved. Selections from Revised Common Lectionary Daily Readings, copyright 1995 by the Consultation on Common Texts. Image credit: The Entry of Christ to Jerusalem by Pietro di Giovanni d'Ambrogio via Wikimedia Commons. This is a public domain image. The Kiss of Judas by James Tissot via the Brooklyn Museum. This is a public domain image.

[ecotone99]

[HF] The Teacher

It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honor

of kings is to search out a matter.

Proverbs 25:2

Brandon Wells stepped out of the Ergosphere and had a look around. Before him stretched a fertile plane of cropland enclosed by craggy cliffs to the northwest. The cliffs continued to rise further to the west where a mountain with a squat, rocky summit stood fortress-like. The land beyond the plain was green, gentle, and sloping, punctuated by undulating hills and rocky bluffs. Turning around, Wells saw that the timeship had landed at the edge of a large and tranquil lake. Cupping his hands around his eyes to filter the bright, midday sun, he peered around the edges of the sea and estimated it to be at least ten miles wide.

Wells dropped his hands and sighed through compressed lips. He could have stood on the shore and assimilated all the geographical details within view, and he still would have been lost. Without the navigational computer, there was no way for him to know where he was on Earth or when he was in time. He looked over his shoulder at the Ergosphere. Smoke was wafting out of the hatch, along with the acrid smell of burning electronics. Wells shook his head, disappointed at his own carelessness. He had overtaxed the engines, overconfident in the durability of his vehicle and arrogantly proud of his ability to pilot it.

With nothing else to do but wait, Wells went back inside the Ergosphere, retrieved a coffee thermos, and sat on a large, flat rock by the shore. The situation was hardly dire, he knew. It was a mere delay, really. He had already activated the self-repair function. As soon as the fire suppression system cut off, the Ergosphere would begin fixing itself. The chrononaut would be on his way in less than an hour.

Feeling his mood lighten, Wells unscrewed the thermos and poured a cup of coffee. He was grateful that he had thought to bring his leather jacket with him. He had lost his shirt, literally, in Bosnia, and was clothed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Although the sun was warm and pleasant, the air was cool, and the wind coming off the lake made it even chillier.

Spring weather, Wells thought. Late March or early April, maybe?

It wasn’t until he heard the sound of approaching footsteps that he began to worry. Someone was using the land to farm, the crops were clear evidence of that, which meant he was close to human civilization. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might have attracted unwanted attention from the locals. Turning, he saw a man coming towards him, following a dirt path that led to the edge of the lake. Wells quickly dug into his pockets and found a pair of wireless earbuds. He put them in and then pulled his translator out of his back pocket, but his heart sank when he saw the aluminum case dented, its glass touchscreen shattered.

Dammit! Must’ve been a rougher landing than I thought.

Wells had brought the prototype with him as an afterthought, a backup just in case his Bosnian didn’t pass mustard. He hadn’t needed it in Sarajevo, but he needed it desperately then. Wells kept pressing the “on” button, hoping to see the screen flicker to life, but it remained a useless block.

“May I sit with you?”

Wells spun around, surprised at hearing English. Perhaps he was closer to home than he first thought?

Wells composed himself and nodded. “Of course.”

The man stepped around the rock and sat down, adjusting his wool cloak as he did so. He appeared to be in his early thirties and had handsome Mediterranean features: olive complexion, a long nose, dark eyes and hair, and a long face. Wells spent more time than was considered polite analyzing the man’s face. It looked troubled.

“Got a lot on your mind, friend?” asked Wells.

“That’s funny,” the stranger replied. “I was just about to ask you the same question.”

Wells went silent. He did have a lot on his mind: Sarajevo, Ferdinand, the War, his failed experiment… “I’ve had a rough day,” he said.

“Would it help to talk about that which troubles you?” the stranger asked.

Wells kept quiet, unsure of whether unburdening himself to the stranger was a good idea.

“Perhaps I’m really the one in need of a sympathetic ear,” said the stranger.

“What troubles you?” Wells asked. If the stranger was determined to start a conversation, Wells intended to keep it strictly one-sided.

“Some men want to kill me,” the stranger said.

He said it with such nonchalance that Wells found himself parroting the man’s words, as if he had misheard. “Some men want to kill you? What for?”

“I spoke the truth,” the stranger said with a shrug. “They took offense. I must decide what to do, and soon.”

This guy doesn’t need a sympathetic ear, Wells thought. He needs a therapist, and maybe police protection.

“What are your options?” Wells asked.

“My father is very powerful,” the stranger said. “I could very easily call upon his army, and they would slay my enemies.”

“What’s the alternative?”

The stranger’s reply was curt. “I let them crucify me.”

“Fight or die,” said Wells. “Those are your only two options?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“If your father is as powerful as you say, why doesn’t he tell these guys to back off?” Wells asked.

The stranger stared out across the lake, and his face became as placid as the waters. “Above all things, my father respects the power of choice. He’s left the decision up to me.”

“Well, what do you think you’re going to do?”

“I don’t want to die,” the stranger replied, his lips curved upwards in a wry smile. “But I also don’t want to kill anyone. The truth is, I’m more afraid of abusing my father’s power than I am of dying.”

“That’s a problem,” Wells said.

“That is obvious.”

A contemplative silence descended as both Wells and the stranger looked out to sea. The chrononaut dumped his lukewarm coffee and refilled the thermos cup. He then reached inside his jacket and produced a Zero candy bar. Discarding the silver-gray wrapper, he broke the bar and offered half of it to the stranger.

“What is this?” the stranger inquired, taking the morsel between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s a delicacy from my country,” Wells said. “I promise, you’ll like it.”

Wells took a bite, watching expectantly as the stranger nibbled on the candy bar. Soon, his half of the sweet confection was gone. Wells offered the man some coffee to wash it down with. The caffeine and sugar seemed to have a positive effect on the stranger, and he smiled.

“Excellent,” he said. “Very excellent. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Wells replied, finishing off his half of the Zero bar. He sipped his coffee.

“I get the sense you come from far away, my friend,” the man said.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your ship, for one thing,” he said. “It looks built for strange seas.”

Wells turned and gazed at the Ergosphere. “It certainly does, doesn’t it?”

The smoke was gone, and there was a rhythmic tapping coming from inside, a sound not unlike a cooling hotplate.

The self-repair mechanism hard at work, thought Wells.

“Now that I have told you something of my woes,” the stranger said, “tell me about yours.”

Wells took a slow, thoughtful sip of coffee and thought, Well, it’d be awfully damn rude to clam up after he spilled his guts. He handed his coffee to the stranger, who drank the liquid in gulps.

“I made a mistake,” Wells began. “A big mistake. I thought I was doing a good thing, but I ended up making a bad situation worse.”

“What is this terrible thing you did?” The stranger’s tone was consoling, like having a friend’s arm around his shoulder at a funeral.

“I saved a man’s life,” Wells said. “He was an important man, someone whose death would’ve caused a great war. Except it turns out war was inevitable, regardless of whether he lived or died.”

How could Wells hope to explain it? How could he put it into words? He had traveled back in time and prevented the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the spark that had ignited the First World War. Wells had set out to test whether changing history was possible, and he had done so, at the time believing his actions would have positive effects on the future to which he returned.

That had not been the case.

By saving the archduke, Wells had only delayed the outbreak of World War I by eight months and extended its termination by over a year. He had doubled the number of lives lost and shifted the fates of countless others. No one in the new continuity had ever heard of Ernest Hemingway but neither had they heard of Adolf Hitler or the Nazis. The Great Depression had come sooner and lasted longer. There was no Second World War, but there was also no atomic energy, no space race, and no such thing as an MRI machine. The best computers were the size of refrigerators. The average life expectancy of an American was fifty or sixty rather than seventy or eighty. Transistors were a relatively recent invention.

Wells had made a year-by-year inspection of the new continuity, which likely contributed to the Ergosphere’s eventual breakdown, and ultimately deemed his experiment a failure. Ignoring his better judgement, he had programmed an excessive time warp, one large enough to carry him to the end of the universe, past the big crunch and past the big bang—such was the nature of cyclical time—so that he would swing back around and arrive in his original continuity.

That last big jump had proven to be too much for the timeship, and the engines had stalled somewhere after the Iron Age, and momentum had carried him to the shore of some nameless inland sea.

“So I let him die the way he was supposed to,” Wells continued. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded distant, as if he were speaking from deep within a cave. “I let him die so that millions of people that didn’t die before would live.”

“It troubles you that an act of mercy made a massacre even worse,” the stranger said.

“Very much,” Wells admitted.

The stranger breathed a deep sigh and shook his head. “It’s an awful thing to have that kind of power,” he said. “Always having the temptation to use it, and always wondering when and how it should be used. Still, the power exists, and we have it.”

Perhaps if Wells had been less preoccupied, he would have noticed that his conversation with the stranger had taken an odd turn. He had said little, yet the stranger was inferring much, and his intelligence was uncanny, and up until a few moments earlier, Wells had begun to wonder if he wasn’t further away from home than he had assumed. All this was registered in some remote part of Brandon Wells’ brain but went unacknowledged by his conscious mind.

“Are you saying we shouldn’t use the power we have?” Wells asked.

“I’m saying neither of us can afford to be reckless because we are powerful,” the stranger replied.

“You must be a philosopher,” Wells said.

“I’m just a teacher,” he said. “Though some days I wish I could’ve stayed a carpenter. I think it would’ve been a simpler life.”

“Fewer people would be trying to kill you, I think,” Wells quipped.

The teacher smiled a crooked smile. “Probably.”

“You know,” Wells said, “I’ve been thinking…Socrates faced a dilemma similar to yours. He publically criticized his government, so the Athenians manufactured a bunch of charges against him, and after a show trial they forced him to choose between exile and death.”

“I can see where you’re going with this,” the teacher said, “and I won’t run.”

“You might live longer.”

“It would be a living death,” said the teacher. “I’m no coward.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to die,” Wells said. “And the world will be the poorer for it. There are too many fools on the loose.”

Musical laughter erupted from deep within the teacher’s breast. “Has it ever been otherwise?”

Wells wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t find enough good humor within himself to manage even a half-hearted chuckle.

“No, I must follow the path my father laid out for me, even if it leads to death,” the teacher said. “That just leaves you, my friend. What are you going to do?”

Wells cast a backwards glance at the Ergosphere. “Go home, I guess. Dismantle the ship.”

“That would be a waste,” said the teacher.

“What would you do?” Wells asked.

The teacher smiled as if he had anticipated his question and replied, “It’s the glory of God to hide a thing, but to seek out the hidden is the honor of kings.”

Wells nodded. “I think I understand.”

“I knew you would.” The teacher stood and stretched, working circulation back into his legs. “I must be going now,” he said. “My friends are waiting for me.” He embraced Wells and kissed his cheek. “Go safely, my friend. I’m glad to know that there is one less fool on the loose.”

The teacher turned and began walking back inland, following the same path he had used to reach the lake.

“Hey,” Wells said, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Look me up when you get home,” the teacher said, continuing along the path. “I’m not hard to find.”

What’s that supposed to mean? “But…can you at least tell me where I am?” Wells asked. “What’s the name of this place?”

The teacher turned and called out a single word, “Galilee,” and then continued along his path.

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