#Fane: *dies of laughter*

[emerald-amidst-gold]

13 or 21 for the affection prompts? :3

*gasp* Hulloooo! I didn't forget about youuuuu! >:3 Mainly, I had to sit on this because there was no idea within my head, but I got one finally~! So, let me WRITE IT!

Anybody ever wanted to see how Fane gets when he actually gets drunk? OH YES. Pair that with Solas getting slightly drunk and we have two fools being MORE foolish than ever before! AHAHAH! >:D

***

21. laughing at their jokes - (aka Fane likes puns)

"The ceiling is..", Fane trailed off as he laid on the floor in the suite that had been afforded to him and Solas in the Winter Palace. Each of the members of Inquisition had been given a room as 'thanks' for saving Orlais, as well as endless, endless access to the cellars and he had indulged, staring at the posh ceiling above and tracing patterns he could see shifting like the sky did on occasion. It was disorienting, but he felt too warm, too relaxed to really care.

As did one other, who was no better than he was, having been goaded by Fane to indulge as well, but they were situated on the silk covered bed, on their stomach, gazing down at him with a pleased, amused smirk and a lightly flushed visage. However, Fane was so preoccupied watching the dancing wall that he didn't have time to admire the sky, but he could hear it and it was a lovely, lovely sound.

"The ceiling is..?", Solas prompted, speech slow, but still oddly in control, just more relaxed, more light.

Fane blinked a few times, mind trying to piece together what was spinning before him. The ceiling was... He didn't know, actually. It was hot. He was hot. Why was he hot? Why was the ceiling shifting? Why did he feel like he could fly? Ohhh, he drank too much, but didn't care, so he just spewed out the first thing to pop up into his liquor addled brain.

"...Orlesian.", Fane finally said, pointing with a flailing arm to the entire expanse at the ornate detailing that was so painfully, painfully grotesque in its opulence. "Orlesiiian. Ugh.", he reiterated, making a face at the word. He hated Orlais. Had he mentioned that before? No? Well, he did. Icky lions and...machinations that were what the shitty elves of Arlathan had played with.

And one of them was now laughing, but they weren't shitty. Never. Never, never, never. They were the sky, free and beautiful, and he had to look at it. Fane turned his head towards the laughter tickling his heart to gaze upon his sky, a smirk working its way onto his face as he took in the carefree appearance of Solas, cheeks flushed, sky-like eyes bright, and once prim and proper attire loose and wild as a wolf should be. Guess he wasn't the only one to have drank a bit too much. Not that he was complaining. He liked this view of the sky.

"Careful, vhenan.", Solas warned between chuckles, reaching down to where Fane was laying to poke at his nose and smirking when he elicited a tiny growl. "Say 'Orlesian' one too many times and you will sum..", he paused, looking up for a moment as if to think before pale blue shone with wisdom, continuing. "..summon the Empress, or rather, Emperor, I suppose."

Fane snorted. "Ohhh, no, no, no. Gashhh..Gas..pard..Gaspard! That's the name! I got it!", he exclaimed with a wave of hand, watching with bubbling amusement as Solas bit into his bottom lip, snorting a bit. "Gaspard is a Empress because of Briala. I made that happen. I'm clever. Big dragon brain." The words becoming more slurred, more haphazard as more warmth numbed his mind into a pleasant lull. How many bottles of wine did he have again? Fifteen?

...Twenty? He had to have a very high tolerance because that shit had been weak, not kicking in until he and Solas had retired, or well, closed the door. They weren't sleeping any time soon with the way his sky was snorting and chuckling like a fool, but he was a beautiful, beautiful fool. A premium one. A majestic one.

Solas let out another snort, face occasionally scrunching from mirth. "Ma'isenatha, I believe you are drunk~", he teased, scooting along the bed to actually ruffle at Fane's hair with a carefree smirk. Fane let out a literal groan of happiness at that touch, staring up at that the pair of eyes staring down at him, albeit upside down. The sky was perfect either way.

"Uh-uh.", Fane denied, shaking his head but stopped when the world spun more than it was already. "You're drunk. You're cheeks are all...eh." He reached up with a hand of his own to poke at a flush cheek, snorting loudly as Solas let out a snort of his own before it dissolved into quiet giggling. The sound had Fane's mouth going agape. "Holy shit, he's a giggler! The legends a true! And Varric owes me fifty sovereigns! Yesh!" Why did that make him so happy? He was loaded already, but hah! He won!

"I..I am not..pfft!", Solas tried to deny but only went back to drunkenly snorting and giggling, head going limp to rest against the foot of the bed's frame.

Fane felt a smile burst forward onto his face, actively springing up into a sitting position to point triumphantly at...well, he didn't know! He was just incredibly rallied by his victory!

"My treasure hoard grows!", Fane exclaimed as he rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his knees with both arms and scooting to where Solas was still chortling like a literal child, pointed ears as flushed as his face.

The sight of such tempting triangles had Fane smirking like a fool as he leaned down to nip at one, growling playfully. This night was finally proving to be worth all the bullshit as Solas let out a choked gasp, head snapping up to look at him, eyes bright with blue and grey and mouth split into a wide smirk of confidence and just as much playful abandon.

Fane leaned in more, resting their foreheads together with a smirk. "See?", he inquired, quickly nipping at a pointed nose and smirking even more when a growl left his sky like thunder. "Oooo, the wolf has deigned me with his presence~"

Solas chuckled, deep and oh so dangerously, but it only made Fane want to draw them out more, pressing their foreheads together more, delving into eyes that spoke a thousand words of a thousand lifetimes. Solas' hands came up to hold him in place, propping himself up on his elbows to bring himself even closer to where Fane was now leaning against the foot of the bed, casual as can be, relaxed due to the essence flowing through his blood. One day, he hoped that this was how it could always be, alcohol or no.

...Especially if he could witness more smiles from the one who had brought one back to his own face. Though, right now, it was a smirk, a lovely, lovely smirk of youth and shamelessness. And the words that spilled from those wolfish lips had Fane dying.

"You could say this one is...dreadful, hm?", Solas drawled, but hints of lavender were laughing within pale blue and hazy grey.

"Pffft!", Fane snorted before actively beginning to laugh, giggling in his own right and disconnecting their foreheads to let his head fall into his arms against the ornate bed frame. "Ahahah! D..Dreadful! I..I get it because..pfffft!"

He heard Solas let out a fond chuckle, seemingly trying not to let the infection of his laughter send him spiraling into his own again. Dreadful! Why was that so funny?! Dreadful, hah!

...Oh, he was drunk. Yes, yes he was, but he didn't care!

A light, but sharp nip to his own pointed ear had Fane's laughter stuttering with a low snarl, picking his head up a bit with a smirk to glare with heated embers into the sky smirking back at him, eyes alight with the same fire he could feel coursing through his veins. The wolf wanted to play, did he? Oh, they would play, but as the dragons did, untamed and uncut.

"Hmm, it would appear the dragon has deigned me with his presence this eve.", Solas practically purred, a few fingers ghosting along Fane's jawline, making him shiver with a chuckling sigh. "Should I be leery of its gaze?"

Fane hummed, leaning forward and snarling low as Solas teasingly leaned back, smirking like the wolf he embodied. So that's how the sky wished to play? To make its reach unattainable? That wouldn't do because dragons were meant to fly within its expanse.

..And he would be in his sky by the top of the hour, so deep as to shatter its own Veil between the real and the imaginable.

"Not at all.", Fane drawled, slowly and surprisingly, steadily rising to his full height to practically rip into black velvet and gold silk that was his personal attire with one hand, undoing buttons and buckles with deftness despite his drunken state. His gaze sharpened with acute awareness as Solas only rested his chin into one of his hands, knees bent, elbows resting upon them as he watched him perform.

"Should I be leery of its strength, then?", Solas inquired, eyes glued to him, unashamed, enraptured with each layer of finery that was discarded with patience, as if they had all the time in the world once again. "Its tenacity? Its passion?" Every question uttered stoked the fires, made them blaze as Fane shrugged of his jacket, having opted not to wear his wraps as the formal attire had down a good job of covering him, but he had brought them for battle.

Fane shook his head, smirking even as his body was on full display, scars and all. He felt no pain, no wariness as liquid courage numbed both his mind and physical form. And it helped when his sky only reflected interest and no judgement, blue-grey orbs slowly roaming up and down his body, legs shifting against the silken sheets with anticipation, but trying to keep it subtle for a shred of propriety. He tsked, meandering his way around to the side where Solas was closest. Now, that wouldn't do. Guess he would have to...

...intervene.

"No to all of those questions, my sky.", Fane growled as he brought one knee up to rest upon the bed, reaching down with one hand to flick the clasp on his belt, unlocking it, but not unraveling it just yet. He growled once more as Solas continued to watch him, calmly, playfully, goading him with the blue that harnessed those emotions.

Solas hummed. "Then what should I be leery of, my dragon?", he asked casually before Fane struck, tackling the man onto the mattress with a snarl and a smirk. His sky let out a grunt of surprise, but easily fell into this familiar beat, reaching up to run his hands lightly along his bare arms, shivers rising in their wake, pain of scars forgotten due to the heat building between them.

Fane gazed down with hooded eyes, pleased and pleasant. "You should be leery of...", he began, leaning down to nip at an exposed neck, sliding a hand up to delicately run it down the side he was not beginning to kiss. A new heat was infecting his mind now. It was heady. It was hotter than any blazing flame. It was incandescent as Solas bore himself to him, tilting his head to allow him more access, even as words hung in the air.

Fane continued his ministrations, kissing, stroking, and teasing with his lips and hand upon a fluttering neck, but something else fluttered and it was within him that it did. It was light, airy, and...ridiculous, but he found himself saying it nonetheless. The wine was still in effect after all. He pulled back a bit, one of Solas' hands digging into a forearm, blue eyes hazy, but curious as to why he stopped.

"Fane?", his sky questioned, but Fane only snorted as he nuzzled into the neck he had just been assaulting with passion and fire. "Fane, what--"

"You know, I just had a thought.", Fane said, humming happily into the crook of Solas' neck; his sky only letting out a disbelieving chuckle and a content sigh at his shift.

"Just the one?"

"Ass.", Fane bit with no venom, but snorted as the thought popped back in like a curious spirit. "You want to hear it or not?"

"Go on.", Solas said around a hum, hand beginning to hum through his hair slowly, tenderly, the other tracing light patterns along his back, following the path of a few scars he knew were there, but that didn't bother Fane as he started to giggle like an idiot.

"Well...", Fane started, lifting his head a bit to gaze down into curious, amused orbs, a smile greeting him with equal lightness embedded in its curves. "I just realized, I'm a dragon..."

Solas nodded. "You are, and...?", he prompted, quirking an eyebrow with that same smirk.

"I'm getting there! Sheesh..", Fane said with a slight pout before snorting again. "I'm a dragon and you're the sky to me. Guess what that means?" He waggled his eyebrows a bit, biting into his bottom lip at his brilliant revelation! He was, indeed, a clever dragon! Decider of empires! Gazer of mankind!

Solas blinked, eyebrows drawing together before blue widened and a good natured, but exasperated groan left his smirking lips.

"Vhenan, do not--"

"Ready for a dragon to be inside of you, my sky?", Fane asked with giddiness, snorting and chuckling like the fool that he was. He was so smart! So smart!

"You are dreadful.", Solas quipped back between his own chuckling and snorts, face twisting with mirth before it broke; the two of them busting out into drunken, light laughter at the terrible, terrible humor they both possessed.

They were both dreadful, dreadful, and dreadful, but they didn't care when the world seemed small and their problems smaller amid echoes of empires and twinkling gold.

***

They're idiots, Your Honor. This is a fact that cannot be denied nor rejected. However, it can be acquitted for they are in LOVE!! *dinosaur screech of LOVE*

I hope you enjoyed it! <3

[theofficialpeanutgallery]

So, my brothers and I are doing a multiplayer Divinity: Original Sin 2 run. Our hosting bro has never made it past Fort Joy, I’ve made it to. Arx, I think? And our other bro has completed the game.

We’ll call the host H, and my other bro M for Master bc he sure as heck knows more than we do.

H goes for Sebille, while M decides that he absolutely HAS to make Lucien Flavius so Lucien can be the divine lmao.

I’m flipping through the hair options and stumble upon a familiar (and very out of place) hairstyle. We’ve got a mod for greater character customization, and apparently Aloy’s hair is in it. Naturally, I go all in.

So we’ve got Sebille, Lucien Flavius from the Skyrim mod, and Aloy from Horizon: Zero Dawn, all on their way to Fort Joy together.

It’s been chaotic.

In a fight with Magisters in the square, Lohse used the gloves of teleportation to teleport Ifan out of harms way, killing him by complete accident. We were screeching for a while. (Yareow went after him, but i remembered she’s Migo’s daughter and didn’t want her hurt. We figured teleporting Ifan was the best strategy. It definitely got her to stop fighting him. After we logged off for the day i went on my solo play and discovered that if you give her his ring she promptly abandons her post to go to him. Which we did in the next session, incidentally. She went back to neutral.)

H went to grab Lohse as his companion (we have a mod for a 6 person party, not counting tagalongs like Sir Lora and the black cat), M went for the Red Prince, and I zipped on over to grab Fane (my personal favorite).

Skip forward a few gaming sessions and we’re on the Lady Vengeance. Our companions leave us, M’s over-encumbered by all the wares the Red Prince was carrying that he graciously dumped off in his inventory, so naturally our first order of business is to seek them all out again.

So I go down to grab Fane (for some reason he handed back both his mask AND the face-ripper. Dude these are yours), strike up a fairly long conversation with him.

M, wandering by, goes “hold on, how are you STILL in a conversation with him? Red Prince just said ‘okay, back at it’ and we were done!” to which I replied “it’s FANE. You know how much he loves to talk.”

H is still looking for Lohse and cracking up at our shenanigans.

[cadaceus]

C2E85

Here are my thoughts, notes and liveblogs for Campaign 2, Episode 85 of Critical Role: “The Threads Converge.” This episode... had a lot of content. We got a fight in Pumat Sol’s shop, we got Jester speaking with the Gentleman, we got secrets from Nott and Beau, we got a return to the Empire, and then some hints at the end for bigger battles to come... it was a lot to take in, which is why there are a lot of (very spoiler-y) notes!

- All of them crawling onto the table to try and avoid the Caedogeist is so funny but also relatable dfghjkl

- Uhhh thank goodness Cad cancelled that crit because that would have been bad

- Update: it was bad

- Matt implying that Nott had died from the Caedogeist Critical (before double checking the rules) scared me half to death, do not do that to me Mr. Mercer!

- “Do you know why I joined a Tharizdun cult? Just for the Hell of it!” I am once again asking for a Hideous Laughter compilation sdfghjklh

- BANISHING SMITE !!! FJORD CLUTCH!!!

- I’m so frustrated at this Caedogeist aaaaah. It’s not as bad as the forest fight in Episode 79, but this is pretty bad 

- “Sometimes found family’s better anyway”

- Tbh they are right,  it’s The Gentleman who has missed out on seeing how awesome Jester is, it’s his loss. I still feel so sad for her, though.

- Caduceus admitting (even if just to the Gentleman) that he’s lonely and that he has no idea where his family are, how they are... :((

- Nott: “I haven’t looked at another man other than my husband quite like that.” / Laura and Tal: *immediately mime Minotaur horns* 

- Anyway both Nott and Beau’s secrets... *eyes emoji* 

- “It’s just a crush” insight check because I think Beau’s lying, tbh... I think it goes deeper than that for her

- Beau, drunk and accidentally saying the most iconic line in all of romantic cinema: “I could be her beacon.”

- Okay, this conversation between Jester and the Gentleman actually makes me respect him more than I had previously, and I like how it does give some closure to it. Like do I forgive him, no :( But do I appreciate what he said about “any man can have a child, that doesn’t make them a father”... yes

- Them poking fun at Matt for having the same voice for every crier “’We all have a high bari-tenor voice! We were all raised in the crier’s pits to the West!” asdfghjklhg SHUT 

- Harvest Rise Festival?? We missed a festival?? I’m gonna riot

- Marisha and Liam’s reactions to there being a package for “Nott and Brave” at the Pillow Trove, possibly from Astrid (but mostly just putting it here because I think its cute):

- Taliesin/Caduceus: “Good money if it’s just from the Cobalt Soul trying to sell you life insurance.” / Marisha/Beau, new Cobalt Soul Expositor: “It’s actually not a bad deal.” LMAOOO

- Caleb using the stone to record Jester’s voice and lip-syncing to the person at the front desk...... this is Peak Dungeons and Dragons and I can’t stop laughing

- Sam saying “Do not kill Pumat Sol. I will kill you.” is a mood

- PUMAT’S COMING WITH THEM??? YEE HAW!!!!!!

- Yasha’s conflicted look and Caleb’s conflict at seeing his city again... not yee haw anymore, I’m sad

- Caleb: “I should go.” / Fjord: “Where?” / Nott: “He wants to scan the city.” / Caleb (to Nott): “Come with me.” / Nott, without an ounce of hesitation: “Yes.” Sorry for being emotional over here but god the way she doesn’t even hesitate, I just love them so much okay

- Ooooof so many bad rolls tonight (this is specifically in regards to Caleb’s 6 on the Persuasion check, but it retroactively applies to Cad’s double ones for Perception as well) 

- “This should reveal the fane below” WAIT ARE YOU TELLING ME ONE OF THARIZDUN’S FANE CHAINS THINGS IS BELOW THIS CATHEDRAL THAT JESTER’S SCRYING ON/THAT VENCE IS AT??

- Red and gold are the colors of the Dawnfather, which means Cardinal Respa may be one of the high clerics there, which means... Tharizdun’s Fane

[rahab-of-the-sea]

Battle of the Fane

Long had it been since the Fane had ever been attacked. Weak and perishing humans that rebelled against their vampiric ‘gods’ only dared to do so. But now a new conflict raised, one that followed short of Raziels fall from grace.

Unaware of their Sires decent into the Lake of Death, the Razielim had not expected the Turelim to storm into the Fane followed shortly by the Dumahim. They came marching through the heavily fortified gates, ruthlessly destroying anything and anyone in their path. While their banners held high in the air, the Razielim, much like their sire, had also developed the wing like feature. Not as beautiful in design as their sire, they were still able to take the advantage of the fight to the sky. This is the account of those that fought in the Battle of the Fane.

“ Where is Raziel? Why have the Turelim and Dumahim come here with such ego and confidence? “ The stern voice echoed in the dome like room. Five of Raziels strongest brood stood in a circle within the room, arms folded as they looked between one another. The other clans had yet to destroy the gates that shielded them from outside attacks, however considering the Turelim and their strength and abilities, it was only a matter of time.

“ There is no need to bicker, we need to assemble the others and prepare for a possible attack! “ Another one of the five shouted back.

“ Without Raziel? We could be killed on the spot for such a thought let alone to speak it out loud! Have you lost your mind Brother? “

“ No! No I have not! What I find odd is that while the council was called and hours have now passed, we have not seen our Sire and suddenly Turelim and Dumahim stand outside our Sires gates? Does this not alarm you? “

Turmoil took hold of the five as they shouted back and forth at one another, their words seeming to almost blur into one anothers. A single sentence was almost impossible to make out. Panic took hold of them, they were the strongest and yet they were now utterly defenseless. Caught off by surprise by the Sires absence and without knowing of what had come to take place, the Razielim only had their pride and bickering to save them. If that.

When a loud bang emitted through the air, shacking the cavernous walls around the Fane causing small rocks to fall to the ground, the Five Razielim took to the large and beautiful balcony their sire once would stand at. From there they could gaze out towards the Gates, the only entrance and exit.

Yet what they could see was only smoke and a hint of flame that was ever so slowly fading. From bellow they saw their fellow comrades take to the sky, as some of them did they could see a few begin to ‘fall’.

“ What is going on?! “ One of the five yelled in panic.

“ Is it not obvious? We are under attack! “ The fifth said, he was shorter then the others as he drew a horn from his side and blew into it.

A call to arms, the other Razielim within the Fane knew the meaning of such a horn. It was loud, deep but it had a sound to it that was chilling and unearthly like. It was enough to make other Vampires shiver in fright as the Razielim took to arms, grabbing nearby weapons and screaming loudly with pride as they took to fighting.

As the smoke began to clear it was already too late to see what had happened. Turelim had stormed into the Fane, slamming their ugly large weapons about and destroying their homes and any that got in their way. Like tiny ants to be squished. Then there was the Dumahim. They were fast and agile, leaping into the air and tearing at the wings of Razielim, injuring many in their attack.

“ Too arms! “ The First yelled as he drew out a long sword and took flight. Like a fool rushing into battle to where the smoke lay heaviest.

“ Too Arms! “ The second yelled out, she was fine and agile, a deadly weapon she withdrew from behind her back, like that of a scythe it posed a threat to any that was caught in its wake.

“ Too Arms! “ The Third one bellowed, the largest of them, he with drew a sword and busted into the sky, high above before changing course and slamming himself into the grounds below. Creating a shock wave like attack that caused Dumahim to fall to their knees but the Turelim only merely shocked for a few seconds. Enough for nearby Razielim to attack.

“ Too Arms!” The Fourth called, following her sister she too had a similar weapon as to the Second.

“...Too death...” The Fifth finally said as he put away his horn and sighed.

He had been by Raziels side from what felt like the start of Kains empire. Although not considered the first in the five, what he lacked in strength he compensated for in brains.

Making a signal in the air he gestured for nearby Razielims to gather together and perform a single blow attack. Yet it was not enough. Turelim where already too powerful as it was, and any that managed to remain in the sky where quickly pulled down by Turelim. Dumahim were warriors by nature, like predators they worked both by themselves and together. They were strong in their own ways, sometimes able to reach those that took to the air, but they still were not strong enough to hold out against winged enemies.

The Fifth attempted to assist a small group of young Razilim Fledglings that had been cornered, but by the time he flew close enough, it was too late. Witnessing the death of Fledglings was not something he had signed up for.

It was at that moment the Fifth could see this was a loosing battle and even if they did win, what would come of it? Their home was destroyed and many where injured with only a few humans to feed off, it wasn’t enough. They were caught red handed by the enemy.

“ Fall back! “ The Fifth yelled but his brothers and sisters in arms did not listen, too fixed on the fight, too prideful to give up.

Only a handful of Razielim had heard the Fifth call out and they followed. For the Turelim and Dumahim did not know of the secret tunnels below that Raziel himself had made sure were constructed. Only a few selected knew of this, the Fifth being one of them. Through the tunnels he asked them to follow him, those that did follow where already badly injured and unable to fight anymore. Those that still could were already on their limits.

“ Where are we going? “ A Razielim called out to which the Fifth was quick to answer.

“ A cave to the south, there we can regroup, feed and become strong.”

What the Fifth lacked to mention was the fact they would never be able to fight back ever again, their forces were depleted and without their Sire they had no right to fight back. Only the fifth remained unscathed minus a few scratches. He should have ensured that the tunnel was lost, but he assumed the Turelim where too dense to realize it and probably destroy it by accident.

Back within the Fane remained one of the sisters. She had watched, one by one, each of the others fall. The Fifth she assumed had already died beneath the rubble as the Turelim began to use explosives to toss into the air and injure any that could still fly away. With a broken leg and no humans nearby to feed off, the Razielim fell to the ground helpless as she looked up at her approaching enemies. Out of breath and exhausted, her wings torn by scratches from Dumahim, there was no point in escaping and even if she could she would rather die here on the spot.

“ When Raziel returns, you shall suffer his wrath! “ She spat at the ground at the approaching Turelim, to which could only bellow a deep laughter.

“ Raziel is dead. Taken by the Lake of Death, like any other traitor! “ The Turelim spoke with an odd cheer in their voice.

“ Unlike your sire, I shall spare you the pain and suffering of burning in water. Think of this as a mercy killing! “ It was clear from the start there was no escaping this as the Turelim spoke. Perhaps the Fifth was right, if only they had of acted faster.

She watched with yellow hued eyes as the hammer was raised high above her and then like a flash of lighting there was darkness. No more pain, no more screams of her fellow Razielim that had fallen. Nothing. Nothing but the faint glow of something different, the spectral realm were her soul and other Razielim souls shall forevermore be lost.

While the battle came to a short end, the Turelim where prideful in their own way, claiming victory to the lands as their own. The Dumahim were not pleased with this and a ravenous battle began. The fight between the Turelim and Dumahim lasted for almost a decade before it was flooded by water. The leaking source was never found, but it only left the ruins of Nosgoths once beautiful land, the Fane, in ruin. Like a sunken treasure lost to those that could not venture there.

Only one such Vampire had the delight, it had taken almost 1 hundred years, just a few years before the war between the humans and Vampires took place. For Rahab floated in the water, gazing at the statue that was now broken and destroyed during the fight. The statue of Raziel. Raziels head was the only thing that was still able to be made out among the pile of rubble. He’d been so prideful. Too Prideful. His ego lead to one thing, and then to another. Rahab though couldn’t care much for it anymore. He always despised Raziel to some point, while Raziel was given the beautiful lands and divine like beauty, Rahab had been given cursed lands that took him hundred of years to properly claim for himself and not to mention his own features.

There was power in silence. Power in waiting and power in pain.

“ Did you finally get to see it? “ a voice echoed in his head as Rahab rolled his eyes.

It was a Whisper, a Dark gift that Kain had given to them after Raziels fall. a Dark gift that only Rahab made good use of.

“ There is nothing left, Zephon. It is nothing but a mere pile of rubble. “ The vampire responded in a short kind of tone. His lips never truly moving.

“ Then so be it. Let us scheme against Turel and claim what is rightfully mine! “ Scheming, always scheming. Zephon had no end, but Rahab could play it to his cord.

“ Then so be it, let our gift that Kain has given us prove useful. Let us take back what is ‘yours’ and Usurp Turel “

Calm and collect Rahab was, unlike Zephon who was far too eager to find any leaver to pull just to make ends meet. Rahab on the other hand was calculated and cold like his amphibious like features, he seemed to have little heart or care for others. All he wanted was Kains favor and he knew from the start that it would be a long process. Raziels ‘departure’ though was an unexpected one, one that came with an advantage.

Yet before Rahab could leave, he spotted the faintest glimmer of something behind a pile of rubble. A tunnel, could it be possible that some of Raziels brood had survived? A sly smirk crossed Rahabs lips. If that was the case, then they too would prove useful. For Rahab was already aware of the Humans defenses suddenly growing in number and the Sarafan were starting to gather together. That could only mean one thing and if so, Razielim that remained could prove useful.

[findingloveineveryone]

Article in Fly Angler’s Online, submitted by Robin Rhyne

What is life if there is not laughter? Welcome to the lighter side of flyfishing! We welcome your stories here!

February 11th, 2002

Educated?

Sent in by Robin Rhyne

Remember when our grandparents, great-grandparents, and such stated that they only had an 8th-grade education?

Well check this out. Could any of us have passed the 8th grade in 1895?

This is the eighth-grade final exam from 1895 Salina, KS, USA. It was taken from the original document on file at the Smokey Valley Genealogical Society and Library in Salina, KS and reprinted by the Salina Journal.

8th Grade Final Exam: Salina, KS - 1895

Grammar (Time, one hour)

1. Give nine rules for the use of Capital Letters.

2. Name the Parts of Speech and define those that have no modifications.

3. Define Verse, Stanza and Paragraph.

4. What are the Principal Parts of a verb? Give Principal Parts of do, lie, lay and run.

5. Define Case. Illustrate each Case.

6. What is Punctuation? Give rules for principal marks of Punctuation.

7. - 10. Write a composition of about 150 words and show therein that you understand the practical use of the rules of grammar.

Arithmetic (Time, 1.25 hours)

1. Name and define the Fundamental Rules of Arithmetic.

2. A wagon box is 2 ft. deep, 10 ft. long, and 3 ft. wide. How many bushels of wheat will it hold?

3. If a load of wheat weighs 3942 lbs., what is it worth at 50 cts. a bushel, deducting 1050 lbs. for tare?

4. District No. 33 has a valuation of $35,000. What is the necessary levy to carry on a school seven months at $50 per month and have $104 for incidentals?

5. Find the cost of 6720 lbs. coal at $6.00 per ton.

6. Find the interest of $512.60 for 8 months and 18 days at 7 percent.

7. What is the cost of 40 boards, 12 inches wide and 16 feet long at $20 per meter?

8. Find the bank discount on $300 for 90 days (no grace) at 10 percent.

9. What is the cost of a square farm at $15 per acre, the distance around which is 640 rods?

10. Write a Bank Check, a Promissory Note, and a Receipt.

U.S. History (Time, 45 minutes)

1. Give the epochs into which U.S. History is divided.

2. Give an account of the discovery of America by Columbus.

3. Relate the causes and results of the Revolutionary War.

4. Show the territorial growth of the United States.

5. Tell what you can of the history of Kansas.

6. Describe three of the most prominent battles of the Rebellion.

7. Who were the following: Morse, Whitney, Fulton, Bell, Lincoln, Penn, and Howe?

8. Name events connected with the following dates: 1607 1620 1800 1849 1865.

Orthography (Time, one hour)

1. What is meant by the following: Alphabet, phonetic, orthography, etymology, syllabication?

2. What are elementary sounds? How are they classified?

3. What are the following and give examples of each: Trigraph, subvocals, diphthong, cognate letters, linguals?

4. Give four substitutes for caret 'u'.

5. Give two rules for spelling words with final 'e'. Name two exceptions under each rule.

6. Give two uses of silent letters in spelling. Illustrate each.

7. Define the following prefixes and use in connection with a word: Bi, dis, mis, pre, semi, post, non, inter, mono, sup

8. Mark diacritically and divide into syllables the following, and name the sign that indicates the sound: Card, ball, mercy, sir, odd, cell, rise, blood, fare, last.

9. Use the following correctly in sentences: cite, site, sight, fane, fain, feign, vane, vain, vein, raze, raise, rays.

10. Write 10 words frequently mispronounced and indicate pronunciation by use of diacritical marks and by syllabication.

Geography (Time, one hour)

1. What is climate? Upon what does climate depend?

2. How do you account for the extremes of climate in Kansas?

3. Of what use are rivers? Of what use is the ocean?

4. Describe the mountains of North America.

5. Name and describe the following: Monrovia, Odessa, Denver, Manitoba, Hecla, Yukon, St. Helena, Juan Fernandez, Aspinwall and Orinoco.

6. Name and locate the principal trade centers of the U.S.

7. Name all the republics of Europe and give the capital of each.

[violettesiren]

In green old gardens, hidden away

From sight of revel and sound of strife,

Where the bird may sing out his soul ere he dies,

Nor fears for the night, so he lives his day;

Where the high red walls, which are growing gray

With their lichen and moss embroideries,

Seem sadly and sternly to shut out Life,

Because it is often as sad as they;

 Where even the bee has time to glide

(Gathering gayly his honey’d store)

Right to the heart of the old-world flowers,—

China-asters and purple stocks,

Dahlias and tall red hollyhocks,

Laburnums raining their golden showers,

Columbines prim of the folded core,

And lupins, and larkspurs, and “London pride”;

 Where the heron is waiting amongst the reeds,

Grown tame in the silence that reigns around,

Broken only, now and then,

By shy woodpecker or noisy jay,

By the far-off watchdog’s muffled bay;

But where never the purposeless laughter of men,

Or the seething city’s murmurous sound

Will float up under the riverweeds.

 Here may I live what life I please,

Married and buried out of sight,—

Married to pleasure, and buried to pain,—

Hidden away amongst scenes like these,

Under the fans of the chestnut trees;

Living my child life over again,

With the further hope of a fuller delight,

Blithe as the birds and wise as the bees.

 In green old gardens hidden away

From sight of revel and sound of strife,—

Here have I leisure to breathe and move,

And to do my work in a nobler way;

To sing my songs, and to say my say;

To dream my dreams, and to love my love;

To hold my faith, and to live my life,

Making the most of its shadowy day.

In Green Old Gardens by Violet Fane

[weareplanarchampion]

“Dolores (Notre-Dame des Sept Douleurs)”

Below is the text of “Dolores (Notre-Dame des Sept Douleurs)” by Algernon Charles Swinburne, which served as the inspiration for the one and only Lady of Pain. Though Our Lady is not nearly as sensual as the subject of the poem, the influence remains. 

Anyway:

Cold eyelids that hide like a jewel      Hard eyes that grow soft for an hour; The heavy white limbs, and the cruel      Red mouth like a venomous flower; When these are gone by with their glories,      What shall rest of thee then, what remain, O mystic and sombre Dolores,      Our Lady of Pain? Seven sorrows the priests give their Virgin;      But thy sins, which are seventy times seven, Seven ages would fail thee to purge in,      And then they would haunt thee in heaven: Fierce midnights and famishing morrows,      And the loves that complete and control All the joys of the flesh, all the sorrows      That wear out the soul. O garment not golden but gilded,      O garden where all men may dwell, O tower not of ivory, but builded      By hands that reach heaven from hell; O mystical rose of the mire,      O house not of gold but of gain, O house of unquenchable fire,      Our Lady of Pain! O lips full of lust and of laughter,      Curled snakes that are fed from my breast, Bite hard, lest remembrance come after      And press with new lips where you pressed. For my heart too springs up at the pressure,      Mine eyelids too moisten and burn; Ah, feed me and fill me with pleasure,      Ere pain come in turn. In yesterday's reach and to-morrow's,      Out of sight though they lie of to-day, There have been and there yet shall be sorrows      That smite not and bite not in play. The life and the love thou despisest,      These hurt us indeed, and in vain, O wise among women, and wisest,      Our Lady of Pain. Who gave thee thy wisdom? what stories      That stung thee, what visions that smote? Wert thou pure and a maiden, Dolores,      When desire took thee first by the throat? What bud was the shell of a blossom      That all men may smell to and pluck? What milk fed thee first at what bosom?      What sins gave thee suck? We shift and bedeck and bedrape us,      Thou art noble and nude and antique; Libitina thy mother, Priapus      Thy father, a Tuscan and Greek. We play with light loves in the portal,      And wince and relent and refrain; Loves die, and we know thee immortal,      Our Lady of Pain. Fruits fail and love dies and time ranges;      Thou art fed with perpetual breath, And alive after infinite changes,      And fresh from the kisses of death; Of languors rekindled and rallied,      Of barren delights and unclean, Things monstrous and fruitless, a pallid      And poisonous queen. Could you hurt me, sweet lips, though I hurt you?      Men touch them, and change in a trice The lilies and languors of virtue      For the raptures and roses of vice; Those lie where thy foot on the floor is,      These crown and caress thee and chain, O splendid and sterile Dolores,      Our Lady of Pain. There are sins it may be to discover,      There are deeds it may be to delight. What new work wilt thou find for thy lover,      What new passions for daytime or night? What spells that they know not a word of      Whose lives are as leaves overblown? What tortures undreamt of, unheard of,      Unwritten, unknown? Ah beautiful passionate body      That never has ached with a heart! On thy mouth though the kisses are bloody,      Though they sting till it shudder and smart, More kind than the love we adore is,      They hurt not the heart or the brain, O bitter and tender Dolores,      Our Lady of Pain. As our kisses relax and redouble,      From the lips and the foam and the fangs Shall no new sin be born for men's trouble,      No dream of impossible pangs? With the sweet of the sins of old ages      Wilt thou satiate thy soul as of yore? Too sweet is the rind, say the sages,      Too bitter the core. Hast thou told all thy secrets the last time,      And bared all thy beauties to one? Ah, where shall we go then for pastime,      If the worst that can be has been done? But sweet as the rind was the core is;      We are fain of thee still, we are fain, O sanguine and subtle Dolores,      Our Lady of Pain. By the hunger of change and emotion,      By the thirst of unbearable things, By despair, the twin-born of devotion,      By the pleasure that winces and stings, The delight that consumes the desire,      The desire that outruns the delight, By the cruelty deaf as a fire      And blind as the night, By the ravenous teeth that have smitten      Through the kisses that blossom and bud, By the lips intertwisted and bitten      Till the foam has a savour of blood, By the pulse as it rises and falters,      By the hands as they slacken and strain, I adjure thee, respond from thine altars,      Our Lady of Pain. Wilt thou smile as a woman disdaining      The light fire in the veins of a boy? But he comes to thee sad, without feigning,      Who has wearied of sorrow and joy; Less careful of labour and glory      Than the elders whose hair has uncurled: And young, but with fancies as hoary      And grey as the world. I have passed from the outermost portal      To the shrine where a sin is a prayer; What care though the service be mortal?      O our Lady of Torture, what care? All thine the last wine that I pour is,      The last in the chalice we drain, O fierce and luxurious Dolores,      Our Lady of Pain. All thine the new wine of desire,      The fruit of four lips as they clung Till the hair and the eyelids took fire,      The foam of a serpentine tongue, The froth of the serpents of pleasure,      More salt than the foam of the sea, Now felt as a flame, now at leisure      As wine shed for me. Ah thy people, thy children, thy chosen,      Marked cross from the womb and perverse! They have found out the secret to cozen      The gods that constrain us and curse; They alone, they are wise, and none other;      Give me place, even me, in their train, O my sister, my spouse, and my mother,      Our Lady of Pain. For the crown of our life as it closes      Is darkness, the fruit thereof dust; No thorns go as deep as a rose's,      And love is more cruel than lust. Time turns the old days to derision,      Our loves into corpses or wives; And marriage and death and division      Make barren our lives. And pale from the past we draw nigh thee,      And satiate with comfortless hours; And we know thee, how all men belie thee,      And we gather the fruit of thy flowers; The passion that slays and recovers,      The pangs and the kisses that rain On the lips and the limbs of thy lovers,      Our Lady of Pain. The desire of thy furious embraces      Is more than the wisdom of years, On the blossom though blood lie in traces,      Though the foliage be sodden with tears. For the lords in whose keeping the door is      That opens on all who draw breath Gave the cypress to love, my Dolores,      The myrtle to death. And they laughed, changing hands in the measure,      And they mixed and made peace after strife; Pain melted in tears, and was pleasure;      Death tingled with blood, and was life. Like lovers they melted and tingled,      In the dusk of thine innermost fane; In the darkness they murmured and mingled,      Our Lady of Pain. In a twilight where virtues are vices,      In thy chapels, unknown of the sun, To a tune that enthralls and entices,      They were wed, and the twain were as one. For the tune from thine altar hath sounded      Since God bade the world's work begin, And the fume of thine incense abounded,      To sweeten the sin. Love listens, and paler than ashes,      Through his curls as the crown on them slips, Lifts languid wet eyelids and lashes,      And laughs with insatiable lips. Thou shalt hush him with heavy caresses,      With music that scares the profane; Thou shalt darken his eyes with thy tresses,      Our Lady of Pain. Thou shalt blind his bright eyes though he wrestle,      Thou shalt chain his light limbs though he strive; In his lips all thy serpents shall nestle,      In his hands all thy cruelties thrive. In the daytime thy voice shall go through him,      In his dreams he shall feel thee and ache; Thou shalt kindle by night and subdue him      Asleep and awake. Thou shalt touch and make redder his roses      With juice not of fruit nor of bud; When the sense in the spirit reposes,      Thou shalt quicken the soul through the blood. Thine, thine the one grace we implore is,      Who would live and not languish or feign, O sleepless and deadly Dolores,      Our Lady of Pain. Dost thou dream, in a respite of slumber,      In a lull of the fires of thy life, Of the days without name, without number,      When thy will stung the world into strife; When, a goddess, the pulse of thy passion      Smote kings as they revelled in Rome; And they hailed thee re-risen, O Thalassian,      Foam-white, from the foam? When thy lips had such lovers to flatter;      When the city lay red from thy rods, And thine hands were as arrows to scatter      The children of change and their gods; When the blood of thy foemen made fervent      A sand never moist from the main, As one smote them, their lord and thy servant,      Our Lady of Pain. On sands by the storm never shaken,      Nor wet from the washing of tides; Nor by foam of the waves overtaken,      Nor winds that the thunder bestrides; But red from the print of thy paces,      Made smooth for the world and its lords, Ringed round with a flame of fair faces,      And splendid with swords. There the gladiator, pale for thy pleasure,      Drew bitter and perilous breath; There torments laid hold on the treasure      Of limbs too delicious for death; When thy gardens were lit with live torches;      When the world was a steed for thy rein; When the nations lay prone in thy porches,      Our Lady of Pain. When, with flame all around him aspirant,      Stood flushed, as a harp-player stands, The implacable beautiful tyrant,      Rose-crowned, having death in his hands; And a sound as the sound of loud water      Smote far through the flight of the fires, And mixed with the lightning of slaughter      A thunder of lyres. Dost thou dream of what was and no more is,      The old kingdoms of earth and the kings? Dost thou hunger for these things, Dolores,      For these, in a world of new things? But thy bosom no fasts could emaciate,      No hunger compel to complain Those lips that no bloodshed could satiate,      Our Lady of Pain. As of old when the world's heart was lighter,      Through thy garments the grace of thee glows, The white wealth of thy body made whiter      By the blushes of amorous blows, And seamed with sharp lips and fierce fingers,      And branded by kisses that bruise; When all shall be gone that now lingers,      Ah, what shall we lose? Thou wert fair in the fearless old fashion,      And thy limbs are as melodies yet, And move to the music of passion      With lithe and lascivious regret. What ailed us, O gods, to desert you      For creeds that refuse and restrain? Come down and redeem us from virtue,      Our Lady of Pain. All shrines that were Vestal are flameless,      But the flame has not fallen from this; Though obscure be the god, and though nameless      The eyes and the hair that we kiss; Low fires that love sits by and forges      Fresh heads for his arrows and thine; Hair loosened and soiled in mid orgies      With kisses and wine. Thy skin changes country and colour,      And shrivels or swells to a snake's. Let it brighten and bloat and grow duller,      We know it, the flames and the flakes, Red brands on it smitten and bitten,      Round skies where a star is a stain, And the leaves with thy litanies written,      Our Lady of Pain. On thy bosom though many a kiss be,      There are none such as knew it of old. Was it Alciphron once or Arisbe,      Male ringlets or feminine gold, That thy lips met with under the statue,      Whence a look shot out sharp after thieves From the eyes of the garden-god at you      Across the fig-leaves? Then still, through dry seasons and moister,      One god had a wreath to his shrine; Then love was the pearl of his oyster,      And Venus rose red out of wine. We have all done amiss, choosing rather      Such loves as the wise gods disdain; Intercede for us thou with thy father,      Our Lady of Pain. In spring he had crowns of his garden,      Red corn in the heat of the year, Then hoary green olives that harden      When the grape-blossom freezes with fear; And milk-budded myrtles with Venus      And vine-leaves with Bacchus he trod; And ye said, "We have seen, he hath seen us,      A visible God." What broke off the garlands that girt you?      What sundered you spirit and clay? Weak sins yet alive are as virtue      To the strength of the sins of that day. For dried is the blood of thy lover,      Ipsithilla, contracted the vein; Cry aloud, "Will he rise and recover,      Our Lady of Pain?" Cry aloud; for the old world is broken:      Cry out; for the Phrygian is priest, And rears not the bountiful token      And spreads not the fatherly feast. From the midmost of Ida, from shady      Recesses that murmur at morn, They have brought and baptized her, Our Lady,      A goddess new-born. And the chaplets of old are above us,      And the oyster-bed teems out of reach; Old poets outsing and outlove us,      And Catullus makes mouths at our speech. Who shall kiss, in thy father's own city,      With such lips as he sang with, again? Intercede for us all of thy pity,      Our Lady of Pain. Out of Dindymus heavily laden      Her lions draw bound and unfed A mother, a mortal, a maiden,      A queen over death and the dead. She is cold, and her habit is lowly,      Her temple of branches and sods; Most fruitful and virginal, holy,      A mother of gods. She hath wasted with fire thine high places,      She hath hidden and marred and made sad The fair limbs of the Loves, the fair faces      Of gods that were goodly and glad. She slays, and her hands are not bloody;      She moves as a moon in the wane, White-robed, and thy raiment is ruddy,      Our Lady of Pain. They shall pass and their places be taken,      The gods and the priests that are pure. They shall pass, and shalt thou not be shaken?      They shall perish, and shalt thou endure? Death laughs, breathing close and relentless      In the nostrils and eyelids of lust, With a pinch in his fingers of scentless      And delicate dust. But the worm shall revive thee with kisses;      Thou shalt change and transmute as a god, As the rod to a serpent that hisses,      As the serpent again to a rod. Thy life shall not cease though thou doff it;      Thou shalt live until evil be slain, And good shall die first, said thy prophet,      Our Lady of Pain. Did he lie? did he laugh? does he know it,      Now he lies out of reach, out of breath, Thy prophet, thy preacher, thy poet,      Sin's child by incestuous Death? Did he find out in fire at his waking,      Or discern as his eyelids lost light, When the bands of the body were breaking      And all came in sight? Who has known all the evil before us,      Or the tyrannous secrets of time? Though we match not the dead men that bore us      At a song, at a kiss, at a crime — Though the heathen outface and outlive us,      And our lives and our longings are twain — Ah, forgive us our virtues, forgive us,      Our Lady of Pain. Who are we that embalm and embrace thee      With spices and savours of song? What is time, that his children should face thee?      What am I, that my lips do thee wrong? I could hurt thee — but pain would delight thee;      Or caress thee — but love would repel; And the lovers whose lips would excite thee      Are serpents in hell. Who now shall content thee as they did,      Thy lovers, when temples were built And the hair of the sacrifice braided      And the blood of the sacrifice spilt, In Lampsacus fervent with faces,      In Aphaca red from thy reign, Who embraced thee with awful embraces,      Our Lady of Pain? Where are they, Cotytto or Venus,      Astarte or Ashtaroth, where? Do their hands as we touch come between us?      Is the breath of them hot in thy hair? From their lips have thy lips taken fever,      With the blood of their bodies grown red? Hast thou left upon earth a believer      If these men are dead? They were purple of raiment and golden,      Filled full of thee, fiery with wine, Thy lovers, in haunts unbeholden,      In marvellous chambers of thine. They are fled, and their footprints escape us,      Who appraise thee, adore, and abstain, O daughter of Death and Priapus,      Our Lady of Pain. What ails us to fear overmeasure,      To praise thee with timorous breath, O mistress and mother of pleasure,      The one thing as certain as death? We shall change as the things that we cherish,      Shall fade as they faded before, As foam upon water shall perish,      As sand upon shore. We shall know what the darkness discovers,      If the grave-pit be shallow or deep; And our fathers of old, and our lovers,      We shall know if they sleep not or sleep. We shall see whether hell be not heaven,      Find out whether tares be not grain, And the joys of thee seventy times seven,   ��  Our Lady of Pain.