#Lower Cathedral Rock

[thorsenmark]

Yosemite National Park Has a Beauty to Stir a Thirst for Adventure by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A setting looking to the northeast while taking in views across the Merced River and nearby grassy meadow and forest to ridges and peaks of Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.

[nyxyxx]

Godly Desires - Part 2 -

So yeah here's the second part. A little rough but the next few should get more interesting. I. II. III. IV.

As usual this story will contain yandere themes and religious themes so please proceed with caution.

"For you"

-

An apple? You blinked twice, confused. You hesitantly reached up towards the mitachurl's hand and took the apple in both of yours. After gazing at it for a while, as if looking for permission - you took a bite of the apple. It was delicious. It tasted so real it almost entirely discarded your belief that this was a dream.

You sat in the hilichurl camp there for a while, as they kept gifting you with seemingly random food and materials, but they seemed overjoyed with it regardless. It was an odd feeling. Despite the fact that they were known as dangerous monsters, they showed such kindness to you. You were almost compelled to just live among them for as long as they'd allow you to stay - but you knew you had to keep going.

You had to continue down the path, to find out how exactly you got here, and why. So, after a long time of playing with the hilichurls, you said your goodbyes, and they said goodbye too - or at least you think they were saying goodbye. You weren't exactly the most knowledgable on hilichurlian.

You walked down along the beach, trying to figure out where in Teyvat you could be. It didn't take very long for you to notice the tip of a very recognizable cathedral. So you were in Mondstadt. That made sense, you supposed. It was where the traveler first woke up, so it would make sense that you would appear here too - except you were on the opposite side of Monstadt.

It would take a while for you to reach Mondstadt just by walking, and you weren't even sure what you should do when you got there, but you might as well start now. You turned back towards the hills and kept walking, resting by trees when it got too dark, or hanging out in more hilichurl camps - where they always seemed to welcome your presence.

It was safe to say that you did not go hungry. Though, you could really use a change of clothes. They were starting to feel all gross. You luckily were by a lake, and well - you might as well take this opportunity to bathe and wash those clothes.

You were a little worried about being spotted, but figured you were in a quiet enough area that it was unlikely. Or if it were monsters, you had little fear of being attacked by them. So you carefully stripped down and submerged yourself in the lake, trying to adjust to the cold temperature of the water.

When you were finished washing yourself - you reached back up to the rocks to grab your clothes to wash them as well, only to find that they were gone. Wait...gone??? Panic began to set in as you realized that you were currently naked and stuck in some lake in the middle of nowhere. What were you going to do...?

You stared at the water for a while, tucking yourself as closely to the edge of the water as possible, as you just thought mindlessly over what you were going to do next. That is, until you heard a voice.

"Excuse me, by any chance do these clothes belong to you?" A voice called out, and you instinctively hid yourself lower into the water. "My bad, I don't mean to invade your privacy. I'll just leave these here." The man said, before you listened to his footsteps get more distant. You slowly lifted your head up to look, only to find the man in the distance standing behind a tree, facing the other way, waiting for you.

You looked back to the ground and found your clothes returned, though in a slightly worse condition, but regardless, you hastily threw it all on no matter how wet they were going to get. Once you were done, you ran over to the man in the distance, who slowly turned his head.

"An animal must have stolen them," he began, "I was out for a walk and saw them on the ground by the grape vines. The animal must've left them there after it realized there was no food in them." He smiled.

You were sure you knew who the man was, but that suspicion was only confirmed when you glanced down, and saw the pyro vision hanging from his belt. "...Diluc?"

"Ah right, yes I'm Diluc Ragvindr, at your service." He seemed a little surprised that you knew his name, but internally, his mind was on fire. You, of all people, knew his name. He could barely contain his joy, although it was nearly impossible to tell from the outside.

"Oh. Nice to meet you. Thank you for helping me there." You said, a little taken aback. at your service? what did he mean by that? Regardless, you felt like you might as well thank him for helping you.

"Please do not mind it, I am only doing what should be done." He said, only showing as slight smile. "If you would like to thank me properly, how about I invite you for a drink?" He asked. He hoped you'd say yes.

"Oh sure. Lead the way then." You failed to notice just how exuberant he actually was that you agreed. It has been a while since you've last talked to - or even seen - someone, so you were a little bit lonely. You also figured that you could get some helpful information from him, so you might as well take this opportunity.

-

soon we're actually gonna get into the more entertaining parts but that's it for now. The next part is gonna have a lot more Diluc which is nice but also terrifies me I'm so not prepared to write him. Taglist @mmeatt; @iamapotatoe; @clavichordcleffa

[charmwitch]

wrote something about Samantha (knight) and Nirinel (witch)

N, "Oh hey, you're awake."

The world was dark, but there was only a small pause before the voice continued.

N, "I was worried you were seriously hurt. I can't fix you up if that were the case."

She knew that voice.

S, "Ugh…" N, "Hey, how you feelin'?"

The light was blinding, or so she thought. It took her a few moments to adjust her vision before she looked over at the direction of the voice.

S, "Uhm… kind of bad." N, "Yeah, if you're not expecting it, it's not great. But we made it out in one piece." S, "Nirinel?" N, "Yeah?" S, "Where… how? We were in the cathedral when…" N, "Oh yeah." N, "I'll tell you in a bit. You should take a breather first. It does come with some motion sickness sometimes." S, "…'It'?"

Samantha looked around, her surroundings quite unfamiliar to her. They were sitting under a rock, shaded from the red sun. Samantha had heard of this occurrence before, but had never witnessed it herself until today. Areas thick with memories, battlefields often come to mind in these situations, often caused such a phenomena. There was such an occurrence near the border of Belacuna and St. Helena, from previous land disputes before the countries had stabilized.

She turned to look at Nirinel, who seemed bored- if tired.

S, "We're not in danger?" N, "Nah. … Not that I know of."

Nirinel looked up, shielding her vision with her hand. Her wide-brim hat was on the ground next to her, it had been charred slightly in the monstrous encounter they had only just narrowly avoided. How did they avoid it, Samantha was still unsure. Her eyes scanned the flats. There were high walls off in the distance. She recognized exactly where they were- after all, it was she who brought them here down to the decimal.

N, "Water levels are lower than normal, though. See that? You can see the mariners."

She pointed off into the distance, Samantha rubbed her eyes to get a better look, but was confused. The flats had pockets of water, some with strangely shaped rocks peering out from the mud. Strangely shaped was perhaps an understatement, they were long and cylindrical, but rough and dull looking from far.

S, "Are those… tubes?" N, "Mariners. They're relics from the forty-year war. They're underwater boats." S, "… Why are they here?" N, "This area's usually underwater. Well, most of it. I used to come here to train my magic when my teacher wasn't around. He was never around, so that was quite often. He's so busy, so I would take it out on some of the rocks in this area. Got pretty spooked the first time I saw one of them, but they're harmless. In fact, they're pretty immobile at this state. Look, see?" N, "Anyway, it's the dry season. Sometimes they appear from the mud."

Nirinel looked over at Samantha, scanning her face for her mood. Her thoughts. She seemed curious, but still a little frightened.

N, "I guess I should tell you. You'd find out anyway. They're graves." S, "What? Wait, really?" N, "Yeah. They're not supposed to be. But if they're here, that means their crews are still in there." S, "Uhm…" N, "I'll probably inform The Society after we get back. I'm not skilled enough for that. I think Auntie Clem can take care of it pretty easily though." S, "… W-we're in a battlefield…" N, "Yeah." S, "…" N, "… Sorry. I, I didn't know where else to go. I panicked." S, "You brought us here? How? We're no where near St. Helena, are we?" N, "No, sorry." N, "Ah… this is hard to explain. I teleported us… here?" S, "…You can do that?!" N, "Hmn? I'm not supposed to. It's not magic. That's why you're also here. I was worried we might die, so I…"

S, "It's… forbidden, right? I've heard… mom talk about it." N, "Yeah, no one knows how it actually works. But if you're able to calculate a location fast enough and can access a terminal, you can do an instant teleportation. It's a bit more complicated with two people, but I was able to successfully find a point under the adrenaline. Accessing a terminal takes a lot of magic, I don't think that's the intended form, but if I can hack it I can handle it somewhat."

S, "That's-" N, "Mn?" S, "That's amazing! You did all that by yourself? It's because you're a math wiz, right?" N, "Aah, I wouldn't- I wouldn't call myself that." N, "Hehe." N, "You need to give coordinates pretty quickly and accurately. If you mess up, you can just get yourself killed or who knows what happens. No one knows. I figured it'd be fine, we were probably going to die anyway."

She pauses and looks away.

N, "Sorry I didn't ask you first." Samantha takes her hand. S, "You're incredible! Thank you for keeping us alive." N, "Haah. you can't just say that so casually." S, "I-I mean it.. I'm… thank you…" N, "…" N, "Come on, we should head back. It'll take a few hours though." She looks up. N, "-by broom. I mean. If I teleport again, I could screw it up. It's always a risk. … Sorry."

Samantha nodded, smoothing out her dress as she stands up, her balance a little off.

S, "I mean it. You're really amazing! Thank you for taking care of me, Nirinel."

Nirinel could only look at her for a moment before smiling.

N, "Stop that. You can thank me when we get back to town." S, "Oh, um." N, "What is it?" S, "Should, should we offer a prayer…" N, "Ah, for the soldiers?" S, "Y-Yeah… I… don't feel right knowing… they're just there…" N, "Yeah alright. We shouldn't stay long, they'll keep you here. They're still working, after all." S, "Still working?" N, "It's a military notion- Oh, right. You're a foot soldier. I guess you wouldn't know. Those lost at sea are considered still on patrol. Still working. They'll always be working until they're found. I heard about it on the radio. I couldn't sleep for days afterwards. Ghosts aren't a big deal for us, but it's still spooky, right? Imagine that. Being lost at sea for hundreds of years? No thanks. I'd haunt everyone."

Samantha could only nod before offering a small prayer and following behind Nirinel.

[aziraphales-library]

Do you have any fics where either aziraphale or Crowley (or both) are dancers?

We have a #dancing tag that you can check out. Here are some where one or both are dancers...

Taking flight by Sani86 (T)

Aziraphale is a first-year fine arts student with an eye for beautiful people. Crowley is a professional ballet dancer with the most perfect body he'd ever seen. A story about art, self-expression and friendship through thick and thin.

Welcome to Burlesque by PrincessDianaArtemis (T)

Starry-eyed Aziraphale - just call me Azi - follows her dreams to California where she finds her spot amongst the dancers at Tracy's Burlesque Club. Along the way she finds more than just an outlet for her talent including the battling attractions for the bartender, Crowley, the threat of the club being sold, and the jealousy of the headlining dancer, Bee. Becoming a star doesn't mean losing yourself and Azi finds a way to have her cake and eat it too. Or the Burlesque/Ineffable Wives crossover we all need.

what a lovely way to burn by john1513, underthelinden (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley are two opposites in their respective worlds; Aziraphale is a well-known traditional dancer whose waltz can hypnotize, and Crowley is an up-and-comer in the lindy-hop rock-n-roll arena whose flips and jumps absolutely dazzle. They’re acquaintances, then rivals, but is there a chance they might actually get along once fate brings them together? Maybe they could learn a thing or two from each other, after all. Just maybe they’re not as different as they seem.

The Accompanist by MostDismalFeldsparkle (E)

Crowley is a principal dancer for a ballet company, approaching retirement. Aziraphale is the new pianist hired to play for the rehearsals and the academy.

I've Had No Love Like Your Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Crowley is an exotic dancer and a massage therapist Aziraphale... well, he owns a bookshop

Sanctuary by LeilaKalomi (E)

Aziraphale, raised by the Archangel Gabriel in Lower Tadfield's cathedral, meets a beautiful dancer on his first foray out of the church. When Aziraphale's furtive adventure ends in disaster, he gives up on ever venturing out (or seeing the dancer) again. He doesn't expect the dancer to need his help, and he definitely doesn't expect to fall in love—or anything that comes after. Based on Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

- Mod D

[themuseumwithoutwalls]

MWW Artwork of the Day (6/24/23) Umayyad Spain (Moorish, 8th-15th c.) Interior view: Great Mosque-Cathedral (8th c. CE) Córdoba, Spain

The building is most notable for its giant arches, with 856 columns of jasper, onyx, marble and granite. These were made from pieces of the Roman temple which had occupied the site previously, as well as other destroyed Roman buildings. The double arches, pictured above, were a new introduction to architecture, and helped support the tremendous weight of the higher ceilings. The double arches consist of a lower horseshoe arch and an upper semi-circular arch. The famous alternating black and white voussoirs of the arches were inspired by those in the Dome of the Rock. They resemble those of Aachen Cathedral, which were built almost at the same time.

[kocherry]

Click here for the full masterlist for my Nun!Reader mini-series ♡

Certain as the Sun

~ Capitano x Nun!Reader

(A continuation of Barely Even Friends, Then Somebody Bends Unexpectedly)

Content: Religious Sacrilege, NSFW mention, Soft Malewife Capitano

< 1.6k words >

“Dear Lord Barbatos, forgive me for I have sinned.”

A remorseful prayer is said as you knelt on the floor of the Favonius Cathedral. Your eyes shut close and your hands intertwined itself. You bow your head slightly and let your veil cover your face.

“I have fallen for a Fatui Harbinger by the title of Il Capitano.”

Your confession itself is scandalous but you had to tell your god that. Having sworn an oath to be forever untouched and to serve the Anemo Archon and his people. You felt like you had betrayed Mondstadt for ever conspiring with the Fatui.

“The Captain's touches burn fiercer than my pyro vision as I let him desecrate my body.”

Oh, how you could clearly remember the day he follows you the entire day. You wanted to try and take a bath at that frozen lake young Eula was talking about. Alas you were still being followed up until that point. You honestly thought he was there to fight you considering you played dirty to win against him... But Capitano was merely curious about you.

You knew that you were being followed, well as much as it wasn’t obvious enough, the Captain followed you from Starfell Valley up to Dragonspine. You were nervous about this because he might’ve held a little grudge on that stunt you pulled earlier. “Why are you following me?” You asked but didn’t face him because you were sweating despite the cold weather.

“I want to fight you.” When he said that you started to run away from him.

Capitano wasn’t easily a man who would give up so he ran after you and clear up the misunderstanding because he panicked about what he really wanted to say. He blocks your path before you could even go back to the City of Mondstadt.

“Wait forgive me, I was recalling our duel and I followed you just so I can say that I admire your tenacious combat abilities.”

You think he was a weirdo and snubbed him as you cover your face with your veil, although unknown to him your cheeks were red as it had been a first time a man genuinely complimented your fighting skills.

Then the secret meetings the two of you had continued for the last three months until one of you broke.

You can't remember who it was who confessed first.

How could even do so when the Captain eagerly took your virtue on the dark cold cave of Starglow Cavern in Dragonspine?

Soft groans and raspy moans could be heard in the dark cold cave of Starglow Cavern.

Your veil and cloak were probably thrown somewhere on the snowy ground but you could not have cared a little as your mind is numbed from the pleasure you felt as Capitano pounded into your tight wet cunt. Your hands were around his neck as your back is against the cold stone wall and your naked breast is pressed against his sturdy chest.

“Are you alright my little blaze?” His nickname to you is what he had thought about because of your pyro vision. His thrusts became slow as he directly looked into your teary eyes wondering if he did something wrong to make you quiet.

“S-Sorry it’s embarrassing to let you hear my sinful voice.” You reply removing one hand from his neck as you cover your red face.

A deep chuckle came from his lips as he soft bites onto your neck making you yelp, “Don’t be shy it is only I and the snow who could hear how much you feel good.” He lowers both of your body as he sits on the makeshift camping bed, his dick pushing up inside you even further.

You let out a loud moan as you were riding him, in this position you could really feel his massive length inside you, “C-Capitano… I-I feel so full…” You started to drool as your mind became mush from how big he was.

“The night has just begun my little blaze, can you last through the entire night?”

There is fire in those dark eyes as his hands were on your hips rocking you gently against him so that you maybe able to get used at this position. You bit your lip and leaned forward as you two shared another passionate kiss that night.

“And I enjoyed every second of it.”

Capitano was your addiction and once you got that taste of him you wouldn’t want to stop even if you would be eaten alive with guilt for doing it.

To hell with your faith in Lord Barbatos.

You want to be with Capitano.

Standing up from the floors of the Cathedral you feel refreshed for admitting that you had not regretted every second, minute, and hours you had spent with the Captain. He recognized your strength as a vision user and as a warrior. He respects your intellect and admires your combat abilities. Most of all he loves you if you were just being honest to yourself.

Capitano didn’t know what it was like to want something he could never have. He starts to sink pool of the heavy feeling of grief of not being able to feel every part of you. When you gave him the sweetest smile it’s impossible for him to un-want the moment he let the feeling in his heart.

“Forgive me Sister (Y/N), we may have been sinners in the eyes of our gods but I would not regret the time we had spent together. I may be a monster like what the Lawrence Clan told me. They were right...” Before you could even oppose he gently lifted up your chin and pressed his thumb against your lips. He didn't forget nor will he ever forget your sweet taste.

“I want to forcibly take you back with me.” His tone turned dark and yet you did not feel any ounce of fear.

“But I would not forgive myself if I wouldn’t give you a choice. You sought for freedom and I would like to offer a proposal.” Capitano knelt down as he pierces his sword to the ground, he holds out his hand asking you to hold him. When you did hold his large gloved hand, he was trembling despite the fact you could see how utterly composed he is.

“Come with me, I wish not to dishonor your virtue by having only to bed you.”

Never had you hear him so soft and gentle yet his tone is desperate.

“Marry me (Y/N), and I promise you will not be caged like a bird. I will let you fly and I only wish that you will have me at your side.”

Tears had fell from your eyes as you were touched by his proposal and yet after that you had rejected him afraid of the consequences it will bring you to the future.

How ironic it is you have felt freer being with a Fatui Harbinger than living in the City of Freedom? As the matter of fact you could only think about running away from your duties as the current deaconess of the Church of Favonius. After all Barbara may still be a child but she is a worthy candidate to take your spot as the new deaconess.

With one last look of the church, you ran outside and it was late at night when people had fallen asleep. You climbed onto the high building easily as the fake sky became the witness to your actions. A soft breeze hit your face as you look down on the nation of Mondstadt.

A small speck of light could be seen in Brightcrown Canyon. That was where Capitano had stated earlier where he had set up camp. And that today was their last in Mondstadt... until then he would never come back here.

“Farewell Mondstadt, you were never that kind to me but I would truly missed those who made me smile.”

You whisper as the wind picked up your goodbyes. You didn't look back at the city knowing you had nothing to go back for. With a smile on your lips, you spread your arms.

A bright glow came from the pyro vision that is displayed below your covered neck. You took a few steps back and then ran towards the edge of the building. Falling into the tall cliff and the Cider Lake is the one below you.

Flames began to surround your arms as a pair of wings by the shape of fire as you glided from the cliff towards the direction of Brightcrown Canyon.

The wind supported your flight as you began to draw nearer to soldiers riding their horses late at night and only torches became their light. From above their road became illuminated and the Fatui looked up to see a flying fire bird on their direction. However, their leader... Capitano only saw the woman he came to love.

As the pyro died down around your body, you threw yourself towards Capitano who eagerly opened his arms.

“My answer is yes, I want to marry you.”

Capitano brought his gloved hand on your cheek, his hand so large it covered your entire face as he softly bumps the forehead of his helmet onto yours. You wrap your arms around his neck hugging him tightly finally being relieved that you were able to catch up to him. Behind Capitano’s helmet he is smiling and you don't even have to remove it to know as you kiss the side of his helmet softly.

You understood that it is not a sin to love.

How could it be a sin when you have never felt so happy?

~ End

[miirshroom]

Mushroom Vision

I am going to attempt explaining how there is an entire vast segment of environmental storytelling in Elden Ring that is going unremarked upon. It isn't just about mushrooms. But that's where I first took notice, so that's where I will start in this post.

The above is the view from a mushroom on the entry ramp to Raya Lucaria, just above where the merchant is sitting. This was maybe my 3rd or 4th random stop back when I decided to appreciate the scenery from the point of view of the mushroom (for fun!). It is an example of perfect framing for elements in the far distance:

The North Liurnia Minor Erdtree

The Church of Vows

The Erdtree

But really, it's "perfect" framing of only the Erdtrees - the Church of Vows is blocked from view and hidden by a stone pillar with a quatrefoil symbol on it. This is a noticeable trend at many mushroom spots - it would be a great view...except there is a nearby tree or a piece of stone exactly in front of one element in the far distance. The perspectives seen from these mushrooms are missing the full picture. Rotating to the left on top of the same mushroom, there is also a perfectly clear view of the Bellum Gate in front of Mt. Gelmir.

Setting the scene a bit more, the ramp is heavily forested, populated by 4 packs of wolves (numbering 3, 3, 3, and 5 including the white wolf in the group lowest down the ramp), then the Isolated Merchant, a Trina's Lily, a corpse with 2 strips of white flesh, and right inside the impassible gate is a Bloodhound Knight guarding a corpse holding Celestial Dew. The sealed entry to the ramp is looking directly towards the Cathedral of Manus Celes.

Also, there is a second mushroom on the bridge which has a view of the Church of Vows restored, but instead this one is blocked from viewing Mt. Gelmir. The Church of Vows is directly aligned with Morgott/Mohg's Divine Tower. This mushroom is between the 2nd and 3rd wolf pack.

Paying attention to the mushrooms also calls attention to something else interesting. There are 4 stone viewing spots built into the ramp face - the two middle ones occurring at those two mushroom spots, one at the top of the ramp just before the 1st wolf pack, and one at the bottom of the ramp between the merchant and the bloodhound knight.

The lowest of these viewing points has a clear view at the Erdtree (nearest to the gate). Also from this vantage point the Liurnia North Minor Erdtree is in alignment with the withered Minor Erdtree in the Altus Plateau:

The highest viewing point near the top of the ramp has views of Mt. Gelmir, Bellum highway Gate, and the Wandering Mausoleums:

In the photos of the first mushroom (lower ramp) I placed more emphasis on the Erdtrees, as this is the view obtained by looking directly at the minor Erdtree. See below as rotated to face the pillar directly, which corrects for peripheral vision picking up certain distant objects that do not actually have direct sightline to the mushroom.

And like at the upper ramp mushroom, the transparency of the Erdtree is accounted for in what is visible from this vantage point. From the corrected viewpoint Rykard's Divine Tower is also completely obscured by the pillar and Morgott/Mohg's Divine Tower is not only behind the Erdtree, but also behind a conveniently placed rock spear. Rotating to the right, a clear view of Liurnia Divine Tower and just the top of the Isolated Divine Tower. Caelid Divine Tower is obscured by the Carian Study Hall, and Limgrave Divine Tower is exactly behind the steeple of a pillar.

So what does it matter exactly, that landmarks are blocked from certain locations? Good question! I am trying to understand this! It seems to me quite obvious from the framing of this one small corner of the map that care is being taken to craft these vistas in a certain way. Perhaps travelling up the ramp is telling a story in sequence. Perhaps there is one story told from the balcony spots while a second lens is placed on the story from the mushroom spots.

Overall, what I see are pieces of an environmental puzzle deliberately crafted at hundreds of locations. Just from mushrooms alone. But there is no reason to stop at mushrooms - I know that some people are already taking interest in the locations of Trina's Lilies and Miquella's Lilies, but has any attempt been made to really consider what is visible (or not visible) from their locations? The things that NPC's can see from their vantage points, the directions that corpses are looking and the items they hold, the view of the divine towers from rebirth monuments (previously discussed in a different post) all seem to be carefully planned. Rowa bushes are very frequently found in pairs, and at almost every location I've checked so far across Limgrave there will be something clearly visible from one bush that is just barely out of sight from the other.

For anyone wondering whether Elden Ring actually innovated on anything compared to Dark Souls? It's this. Literally - it's the depth of environmental storytelling.

[mirdance]

The Linguist and the Bard

Day 13/14 - Age Gap/Worship

Pairing: Venti x Linguist

NSFW

Ludi Harpastum’s echoing festivities still sang strong as the moon hung in the sky like a nostalgic photograph. With any holiday in Mondstadt, the masses dove into whatever alcoholic liquid content their wild hands could obtain. The bubbles of wine and whiskey permeated the air along with the relaxed cheers of overworked farmers and knights. Their joy could not be constrained to a wooden mug; everyone was a friend to each other in such a way that she had hardly witnessed during travels. Mondstadt could be crude, dirty, sometimes lazy, yet no one turned away a helping hand. Houses stayed unlocked, farms somehow untouched by thieves. A wallet left on the church pew would still be there, untouched.

Which was where she found herself once again as the night lingered on.

She sat on the edge of the back pew, flipping her wallet between her fingers. The cathedral's atmosphere changed after its people emptied, after the sun slumbered. Gossip of the latest trending hat or sport felt as far as Celestia.

The Celestial rock sat uncomfortably in the sky through one of the many windows as if it had been painted on to a background it didn't belong. The glow of the moon danced in stained glass colors as she turned her gaze towards the alter.

She was a linguist, and linguists didn't belong in church. They tarried through forbidden books and parchment. Things that might shake the foundation. Not that Mondstadt was particularly religious compared to other regions. No, it wasn't religion that held the people. It was history. And history was doomed to repeat itself if one did not fully comprehend it.

She felt the precipice of unique knowledge on the tip of her tongue. She could taste it burning down her throat like the alcohol she'd declined.

Such thoughts belonged at the Akademiya; folks would rave. That was good and all, but we needed to plow and bring in and carry and dig our nails into the dirt and pick the apples that delicately hung in economic balance. 

Returning from those daunting green library halls was both a blessing and a curse. Part of her still remained religiously hanging over an old tome and part in the creaking wooden bed of her family home. (Her plaid blanket frayed at the edges and smelled of warm tobacco and newspaper; it always welcomed her.) Whatever part remained within the pew was almost someone else, someone as far as the Celestia rock or the alter. Someone whose bones ached to be released. She could almost see it staring back at her, as if her conscious were floating above.

"Wow, I didn't expect anyone else to be here."

Her shoulders struck the back of her seating. A young man, possibly shy of 21, made his way from an unknown side room. His hips swayed with the bottle of red wine in his hand and the tips of his braided hair. She'd come for quiet contemplation away from the inquiring crowds, but she supposed anyone had the right to do so, even inebriated men.

He plopped himself next to her and stretched his long legs. His belt clinked and rattled and glistened in the little moonlight they had. "Sometimes it's good to get away, you know? Even a bard like me needs a bit of rest." He elegantly crossed his legs and brought the bottle to his lips. A hint of red dusted his cheekbones, matching the rosy color of his plump lips.

A bard. It had been a while since she'd sat down to have a discussion with one. Despite the Akademiya incessant scientific approaches, the arts were gaining more traction as they showed promise for developing brains. And a good bard knew history. A good bard was a good debater. A hidden gem amongst scholars. The Akademiya simply did not have ears to hear it.

"I understand. After coming home from Sumeru, the liveliness can be a bit overwhelming." She crossed her hands over her lap. "I'm sure being a bard has its rough days."

The man chuckled, and she almost did a double take at his face as he did so. The chuckle was lower in pitch than his voice had presented, almost gravely in nature. "Rough is one way to put it. But I wouldn't change it for the world," he beamed.

Another swig touched his lips. Her gaze followed the lines of his angled jaw until it rested on the edges of his teal hair. It almost glowed like ley line residue in the night, haunting and ethereal.

"Would you like a taste?" The man's toothy smirk matched his carefree body language. He extended the bottle.

"The church typically looks down upon excess," she chuckled.

"And when did Barbatos ever make such a rule? Doesn't he desire for a city of freedom, unbound by rules and regulations?"

"And this is why other nations view him as a demon."

"Do you?"

She took it and brought it to her lips without a thought. The acidic burn clung to the sides of her esophagus until it rested within her stomach.  She cleared her throat and handed the bottle back. "No, I do not."

"Have as much as you desire." He laughed and swirled the liquid. The bottle sloshed.  "This bad boy is strong enough to take a god down. Probably the highest alcohol content here in the great city of freedom."

Well, shit.

"Hey, you'll be fine." He patted her shoulder, his fingers lingering close to her neck. "Do they not have spirits in Port Ormos?"

"They do." She rolled her shoulders. "I partook occasionally." She paused. "How did you know I was in the Akademiya."

He winked. His eyes matched his hair, otherworldly and as bright as his teeth that flashed her way. "Maybe I'm just that smart. The way you rub your hands, your posture, that oh so daunting thinking pose." Another swig. "Nah, look." He caressed the lapel of her collar. "You're Akademiya pin gave you away."

The berries from his breath wafted her way. "That will do it."

"Whatcha studying? Oh, people probably ask you that all the time." He let go of her collar and dipped his head apologetically. "But I can't help but be curious. You know how nosy we bards can be."

This was abundantly true, and while the common question around the tavern could grind at her nerves after a while, the bards curiosity felt genuine. Or she was simply looking too far into the man she just met. She was self aware enough to know what loneliness did to a person's skin.

"Linguistics," she replied. "I read dusty old letters and books and old languages and study the evolution of words." She turned her gaze to the rock in the sky. "Useless things such as that."

His gaze followed hers and flickered to her eyes and back again. "Fascinating. Though I wouldn't call it useless. Words and syntax determine how societies are built. They're the very foundation of the world."

When their gazes locked, the acid in her stomach bubbled. "Yes, that's exactly right. For example, the words we use for wine here shape how we view the substance. Yet in Liyue their usage depends on context and tone more so than anything of our origins here, which..."

The corners of his stained mouth caught her off guard. He rested his chin on his arm against the pew. "Do go on. Your voice brings my ears music."

"You probably already know all this." Her eyes flitted to the bottle and the fingers that elegantly wrapped around the middle.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Tell me something you're passionate about."

She took the bottle from him and threw back. He snickered in delight; it didn't escape her notice how his eyes lingered upon her throat. With a satisfied exhale, she returned the bottle. Their fingers brushed.

Her hands were better in her lap.

"The folklore of each land." The liquid brought her mind into dizzying clarity. "How they connect. Their origins. How far within the earth can we go to discover what we've lost? How should we preserve our current language so future generations can learn from the past?"

His eyes slowly shut, as if he were taking a moment to soak her words. "I see." He opened them again, and his pupils dilated in the moonlight. "Most would look to the skies for answers."

She followed his stare out the window. "True. But there are lots mysterious within the depths of the dirt and old words. Why do we pray to the Archons and not Celestia? Why not the old goddess of time anymore? Celestia must be asleep, and it's up to humanity not to repeat its sins. Even with old Ludi Harpastum, women were assaulted on the whims of a king. What if that is all buried to history, only to happen again? Nothing to point to?"

"A dangerous line of thought," he stated with a lilt at the edge of his tongue. "But an interesting one. What if you find something that shakes you to the core? That changes humanity?"

"Good." The berries and acid still hovered over her tongue. "What's the point of trying to progress if we can't change? Shake me to my core. I bask in the opportunity for my world view to be shattered into pieces."

His grin widened, all teeth, almost fang-like and hanging on the essence of her words like it hung on the wine.

And that was the first that a man called Venti followed the linguist around.

~~~

Distant cathedral bells rang in the morning haze. She caressed a glass of coffee laden with a hint of vodka in the back of Angel's Share. A few patrons scattered about the place, but most folks would be sitting in the pews of the church, not the den of drunkards.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

Venti. She eyed him over her drink. "Isn't today a holy day? Shouldn't you be singing somewhere?"

He helped himself to the chair across. The seat scraped against the flooring in one long stroke before he plummeted into it. His arms spread wide as he gestured around. "Is this not also a holy place? Where the people are gathered, so shall Barbatos be."

Smoke hung in the air like fog. Mumbled curses. Rustling of cards and clinking of gambling coins. Would a god sit among them, lounging like Venti, a cigar in one hand and mug of beer on the table?

"It is," she concluded.

"Then let us pray." Venti playfully clapped his hands. "Thank Barbatos for the mora I received to pay for this tab."

"Oh? You actually brought mora this time?"

He winked. "Can't I treat a lady every once in awhile?"

"Then we should be thanking you," she stated seriously. "I see how hard you work despite the...rumors."

If one looked closely, they'd see Venti's shoulders shudder ever so slightly. He tipped his chair onto two legs. "Hm, how blasphemous," he cried in false bravado. "Praying to me instead of Barbatos. What would he say?"

"He probably wouldn't give a fuck."

His chair hit all fours; his laugh melded with the heavy smoke. "Well, then," he leaned on one elbow and drew a long draw of his cigar. "Maybe I should pray to you?" ~~~

"You're so young," she mumbled through the tangled mess of Venti's hair as his arms snaked around her waist. "Compared to me."

Two bottles of empty wine clanked around their feet on the plaid blanket. Orange hues painted the sky as the moon began it's assent. "I'm too old for anything anymore."

"No, no," he grumbled in her shoulder. "You are. So young."

Inebriated and warm, she was inclined to believe him. There were times his attention would take pause, his gaze penetrating something far off that she could not see, words escaping his song that only the ancients could know. Like the fae of old, he invited her into him; if it was for a price, her body and mind did not care.

In its own way, their lips clattering together beneath the statue of Barbatos was a form of worship.

"Did you know," he said in between kisses placed upon her collarbone. "Barbatos fell as a demon, yet..." He sucked the mole on the side of her neck. "His rebellion was unbeknownst to the heavens." A nibble. "He could walk between the Abyss and Celestia."

"Oh?" She inhaled. "Will you play old man today and tell me fairytales?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you." He edged his thumb over her lower lip. "Heh. Even if it's not accurate, it's a nice story, don't you think? Besides," he kissed her upper lip. "When you get to be old like me, fairytales are what you hang onto."

"Old like you." She grinned as his fingers twirled behind her waistband. "Perhaps we've drunk enough."

"No, no, darling," he sang while tugging her garments to her ankles. "I don't think I've had enough to drink."

His tongue was on her folds like mouth to wine. The flat of his tongue languidly dragged from her cunt to the tip of her hooded clit. Her hands jerked in sensitivity and thudded against the statue behind. Her bundle swirled around his heated lapping and grew to meet his taste buds.

"Gods." She clutched his head.

With more strength than one might think of his size, he pried her thighs from his skull and chuckled. "We should thank Barbatos for such a tasty meal. Since you're singing so beautifully for his graven image."

She wanted nothing more than to snap her legs around his head, to feel the full heat against her mound. He was relentless; her thighs quivered against the ground, held steady by his palms. Whines filled the breeze as he lightly tapped his tongue against her clit.

"Mphm." Her hips dug the air. "God." A string of curses and praise followed, Barbatos's name falling from her lips like dandelion seeds.

"That's it." His voice fell in husky vibrations, and his palms fell to the wayside as she clamped around him and held him to herself.

The slurping and squelching that drizzled from his lips was anything but godly.

Without any notification, he curled a finger into her cunt and pumped the digit in time with his mouth. Had he enjoyed the blasphemous nature of her cries to that extent? She groaned and dug her nails into his scalp, allowing her voice to carry with the wind more names and gods.

The slender finger she clamped around was absolutely relentless as she road her high across his face.

Belt buckles immediately clinked. His leaking cock breached her entrance and bottomed out. Both clutched one another in thrusting pulsing groans. As if pleasure were the only need in the world. As if her walls belonged around him, in more ways than physical.

His orgasm was fast and harsh. His knuckles grew white from the grip he held her hips; his own hips continued fucking his seed into her until he was all but jelly, shuddering atop her in soft praises. 

The night sky watched them hold each other breathless into the dawn, a festival of tangled bodies and lustful song.

[promises-of-paradise]

Felix Yusupov on the murder of Rasputin

As I was alone in St. Petersburg, I was staying with my brothers-in-law at the Grand Duke Alexander's palace. On December 29, I spent most of the day preparing for my examinations which were to be held next day.* As soon as I had a free moment I went home to make the final arrangements. I intended to receive Rasputin in the flat which I was fitting up in the Moika** basement: arches divided it in two; the larger half was to be used as a dining room. From the other half, the staircase which I have already mentioned led to my rooms on the floor above. Halfway up was a door opening onto the courtyard. The larger room had a low, vaulted ceiling and was lighted by two small windows which were on a level with the ground and looked out on the Moika. The walls were of grey stone, the flooring of granite. To avoid arousing Rasputin's suspicions - for he might have been surprised at being received in a bare cellar - it was indispensable that the room should be furnished and appear to be lived in. When I arrived, I found workmen busy laying down carpets and putting up curtains. Three large red Chinese porcelain vases had already been placed in niches hollowed out of the walls. Various objects which I had selected were being carried in: carved wooden chairs of oak, small tables covered with ancient embroideries, ivory bowls, and a quantity of other curios. I can picture the room to this day in all its details, and I have good reason to remember a certain cabinet of inlaid ebony which was a mass of little mirrors, tiny bronze columns and secret drawers. On it stood a crucifix of rock crystal and silver, a beautiful specimen of sixteenth-century Italian workmanship. On the great red granite mantelpiece were placed golden bowls, antique majolica plates and a sculptured ivory group. A large Persian carpet covered the floor and, in a corner, in front of the ebony cabinet, lay a white bearskin rug. In the middle of the room stood the table at which Rasputin was to drink his last cup of tea.

My two servants, Grigori and Ivan, helped me to arrange the furniture. I asked them to prepare tea for six, to buy biscuits and cakes and to bring wine from the cellar. I told them that I was expecting some friends at eleven that evening, and that they could wait in the servants' hall until I rang for them. When everything was settled I went up to my room where Colonel Vogel, my crammer, was waiting to coach me for the last time before my exams. The lesson was over by six o'clock; before going back to dine with my brothers-in-law, I went into the church of Our Lady of Kazan. Deep in prayer, I lost all sense of time. When I left the cathedral after what seemed to me but a few moments, I was astonished to find I had been there almost two hours. I had a strange feeling of lightness, of well-being, almost of happiness... I hurried to my father-in-law's palace where I had a light dinner before returning to the Moika. By eleven o'clock everything was ready in the basement. Comfortably furnished and well-lighted, this underground room had lost its grim look. On the table the samovar smoked, surrounded by plates filled with the cakes and dainties that Rasputin liked so much. An array of bottles and glasses stood on a sideboard. Ancient lanterns of coloured glass lighted the room from the ceiling; the heavy red damask portieres were lowered. On the granite hearth, a log fire crackled and scattered sparks on the flagstones. One felt isolated from the rest of the world and it seemed as though, no matter what happened, the events of that night would remain forever buried in the silence of those thick walls.

The bell rang, announcing the arrival of Dmitri and my other friends. I showed them into the dining room and they stood for a little while, silently examining the spot where Rasputin was to meet his end. I took from the ebony cabinet a box containing the poison and laid it on the table. Dr. Lazovert put on rubber gloves and ground the cyanide of potassium crystals to powder. Then, lifting the top of each cake, be sprinkled the inside with a dose of poison which, according to him, was sufficient to kill several men instantly. There was an impressive silence. We all followed the doctor's movements with emotion. There remained the glasses into which cyanide was to be poured. It was decided to do this at the last moment so that the poison should not evaporate and lose its potency. We had to give the impression of having just finished supper - for I had warned Rasputin that when we had guests we took our meals in the basement and that I sometimes stayed there alone to read or work while my friends went upstairs to smoke in my study. So we disarranged the table, pushed the chairs back, and poured tea into the cups. It was agreed that when I went to fetch the starets, Dmitri, Purishkevich and Sukhotin would go upstairs and play the gramophone, choosing lively tunes. I wanted to keep Rasputin in a good humor and remove any distrust that might be lurking in his mind.

When everything was ready, I put on an overcoat and drew a fur cap over my ears, completely concealing my face. Doctor Lazovert, in a chauffeur's uniform, started up the engine and we got into the car which was waiting in the courtyard by the side entrance. On reaching Rasputin's house, I had to parley with the janitor before he agreed to let me in. In accordance with Rasputin's instructions, I went up the back staircase; I had to grope my way up in the dark, and only with the greatest difficulty found the starets' door. I rang the bell. "Who's that?" called a voice from inside. I began to tremble. "It's I, Grigori Yefimovitch. I've come for you. I could hear Rasputin moving about the hall. The chain was unfastened, the heavy lock grated. I felt very ill at ease. He opened the door and I went into the kitchen. It was dark. I imagined that someone was spying on me from the next room. Instinctively, I turned up my collar and pulled my cap down over my eyes. "Why are you trying to hide?" asked Rasputin. "Didn't we agree that no one was to know you were going out with me tonight?" "True, true; I haven't said a word about it to anyone in the house, I've even sent away all the tainiks.(* Members of the secret police.) I'll go and dress." I accompanied him to his bedroom; it was lighted only by the little lamp burning before the icons. Rasputin lit a candle; I noticed that his bed was crumpled. He had probably been resting. Near the bed were his overcoat and beaver cap, and his high feltlined galoshes. Rasputin wore a silk blouse embroidered in cornflowers, with a thick raspberry-colored cord as a belt. His velvet breeches and highly polished boots seemed brand-new; he had brushed his hair and carefully combed his beard. As be came close to me, I smelled a strong odor of cheap soap which indicated that he had taken pains with his appearance. I had never seen him look so clean and tidy. "Well, Grigori Yefimovich, it's time to go; it's past midnight." "What about the gypsies? Shall we pay them a visit?" "I don't know; perhaps," I answered. "There will be no one at your house but us tonight?" be asked, with a note of anxiety in his voice. I reassured him by saying that he would meet no one that he might not care to see, and that my mother was in the Crimea. "I don't like your mother. I know she hates me; she's a friend of [Grand Duchess] Elisabeth's. Both of them plot against me and spread slander about me too. The Tsarina herself has often told me that they were my worst enemies. Why, no earlier than this evening, Protopopov came to see me and made me swear not to go out for a few days. 'They'll kill you,' he declared. 'Your enemies are bent on mischief!' But they'd just be wasting time and trouble; they won't succeed, they are not powerful enough ... But that's enough, come on, let's go..." I picked up the overcoat and helped him on with it. Suddenly, a feeling of great pity for the man swept over me. I was ashamed of the despicable deceit, the horrible trickery to which I was obliged to resort. At that moment I was filled with self-contempt, and wondered how I could even have thought of such a cowardly crime. I could not understand how I had brought myself to decide on it. I looked at my victim with dread, as he stood before me, quiet and trusting. What had become of his second sight? What good did his gift of foretelling the future do him? Of what use was his faculty for reading the thoughts of others, if he was blind to the dreadful trap that was laid for him? It seemed as though fate had clouded his mind... to allow justice to deal with him according to his desserts... But suddenly, in a lightning flash of memory, I seemed to recall every stage of Rasputin's infamous life. My qualms of conscience disappeared, making room for a firm determination to complete my task. We walked to the dark landing, and Rasputin closed the door behind him.

Once more I heard the grating of the lock echoing down the staircase; we were in pitch-black darkness. I felt fingers roughly clutching at my hand. "I will show you the way," said the starets dragging me down the stairs. His grip hurt me, I felt like crying out and breaking away, but a sort of numbness came over me. I don't remember what he said to me, or whether I answered him; my one thought was to be out of the dark house as quickly as possible, to get back to the light, and to free myself from that hateful clutch. As soon as we were outside, my fears vanished and I recovered my self-control. We entered the car and drove off. I looked behind us to see whether the police were following; but there was no one, the streets were deserted. We drove a roundabout way to the Moika, entered the courtyard and, once more, the car drew up at the side entrance.

As we entered the house, I could hear my friends talking while the gramophone played "Yankee Doodle went to town." "What's all this?" asked Rasputin. "Is someone giving a party here?" "No, just my wife entertaining a few friends; they'll be going soon. Meanwhile, let's have a cup of tea in the dining room." We went down to the basement. As soon as Rasputin entered the room, he took off his overcoat and began inspecting the furniture with great interest. He was particularly fascinated by the little ebony cabinet, and took a childlike pleasure in opening and shutting the drawers, exploring it inside and out. Then, at the fateful moment, I made a last attempt to persuade him to leave St. Petersburg. His refusal sealed his fate. I offered him wine and tea; to my great disappointment, he refused both. Had something made him suspicious? I was determined, come what may, that he should not leave the house alive. We sat down at the table and began to talk. We reviewed our mutual acquaintances, not forgetting Anna Vyrubova and, naturally, touched on Tsarskoe-Selo. "Grigori Yefimovitch," I asked, "why did Protopopov come to see you? Is he still afraid of a conspiracy?" "Why yes, my dear boy, he is; it seems that my plain speaking annoys a lot of people. The aristocrats can't get used to the idea that a humble peasant should be welcome at the Imperial Palace. ...They are consumed with envy and fury... but I'm not afraid of them. They can't do anything to me. I'm protected against ill fortune. There have been several attempts on my life but the Lord has always frustrated these plots. Disaster will come to anyone who lifts a finger against me." Rasputin's words echoed ominously through the very room in which he was to die, but nothing could deter me now. While he talked, my one idea was to make him drink some wine and eat the cakes.

After exhausting his customary topics of conversion, Rasputin asked for some tea. I immediately poured out a cup and handed him a plate of biscuits. Why was it that I offered him the only biscuits that were not poisoned? I even hesitated before handing him the cakes sprinkled with cyanide. He refused them at first: "I don't want any, they're too sweet." At last, however, he took one, then another... I watched him, horror-stricken. The poison should have acted immediately but, to my amazement, Rasputin went on talking quite calmly. I then suggested that he should sample our Crimean wines. He once more refused. Time was passing, I was becoming nervous; in spite of his refusal, I filled two glasses. But, as in the case of the biscuits - and just as inexplicably - I again avoided using a glass containing cyanide. Rasputin changed his mind and accepted the wine I handed him. He drank it with enjoyment, found it to his taste and asked whether we made a great deal of wine in the Crimea. He seemed surprised to hear that we had cellars full of it. "Pour me out some Madeira," he said. This time I wanted to give it to him in a glass containing cyanide, but he protested: "I'll have it in the same glass." "You can't, Grigori Yefimovich," I replied. "You can't mix two kinds of wines." "It doesn't matter, I'll use the same glass, I tell you." I had to give in without pressing the point, but I managed, as if by mistake, to drop the glass from which he had drunk, and immediately poured the Madeira into a glass containing cyanide. Rasputin did not say anything. I stood watching him drink, expecting any moment to see him collapse. But he continued slowly to sip his wine like a connoisseur. His face did not change, only from time to time be put his hand to his throat as though he had some difficulty in swallowing. He rose and took a few steps. When I asked him what was the matter, he answered: "Why, nothing, just a tickling in my throat. " "The Madeira's good," he remarked; "give me some more." Meanwhile, the poison continued to have no effect, and the starets went on walking calmly about the room. I picked up another glass containing cyanide, filled it with wine and handed it to Rasputin. He drank it as he had the others, and still with no result.

There remained only one poisoned glass on the tray. Then, as I was feeling desperate, and must try to make him do as I did, I began drinking myself. A silence fell upon us as we sat facing each other, He looked at me; there was a malicious expression in his eyes, as if to say: "Now, see, you're wasting your time, you can't do anything to me." Suddenly his expression changed to one of fierce anger; I had never seen him look so terrifying. He fixed his fiendish eyes on me, and at that moment I was filled with such hatred that I wanted to leap at him and strangle him with my bare hands. The silence became ominous. I had the feeling that he knew why I had brought him to my house, and what I had set out to do. We seemed to be engaged in a strange and terrible struggle. Another moment and I would have been beaten, annihilated. Under Rasputin's heavy gaze, I felt all my self-possession leaving me; an indescribable numbness came over me, my head swam...

When I came to myself, he was still seated in the same place, his head in his hands. I could not see his eyes. I had got back my self-control, and offered him another cup of tea. "Pour me a cup," he said in a muffled voice, "I'm very thirsty." He raised his head, his eyes were dull and I thought he avoided looking at me. While I poured the tea, he rose and began walking up and down. Catching sight of my guitar which I had left on a chair, be said: "Play something cheerful, I like listening to your singing." I found it difficult to sing anything at such a moment, especially anything cheerful. "I really don't feel up to it," I said. However, I took the guitar and sang a sad Russian ditty. He sat down and at first listened attentively; then his head drooped and his eyes closed. I thought he was dozing. When I finished the song, he opened his eyes and looked gloomily at me: "Sing another. I'm very fond of this kind of music and you put so much soul into it." I sang once more but I did not recognize my own voice. Time went by; the clock said two-thirty... the nightmare had lasted two interminable hours. What would happen, I thought, if I had lost my nerve? Upstairs my friends were evidently growing impatient, to judge by the racket they made. I was afraid that they might be unable to bear the suspense any longer and just come bursting in. Rasputin raised his head: "What's all that noise?" "Probably the guests leaving," I answered. "I'll go and see what's up." In my study, Dmitri, Purishkevich and Sukhotin rushed at me, and plied me with questions. "Well, have you done it? Is it over?" "The poison hasn't acted," I replied. They stared at me in amazement. "It's impossible!" cried the Grand Duke.

"But the dose was enormous! Did he take the whole lot?" asked the others. "Every bit," I answered. After a short discussion, we agreed to go down in a body, throw ourselves on Rasputin and strangle him. We were already on the way down, when I was brought to a halt by the fear that we would ruin the whole scheme by our precipitation: the sudden appearance of a lot of strangers would certainly arouse Rasputin's suspicions. And who could tell what such a diabolical person was capable of doing? I convinced my friends with great difficulty that it would be best for me to act alone. I took Dmitri's revolver and went back to the basement. Rasputin sat where I had left him; his head drooping and his breathing labored. I went up quietly and sat down by him, but he paid no attention to me. After a few minutes of horrible silence, he slowly lifted his head and turned vacant eyes in my direction. "Are you feeling ill?" I asked. "Yes, my head is heavy and I've a burning sensation in my stomach. Give me another little glass of wine. It'll do me good." I handed him some Madeira; he drank it at a gulp; it revived him and he recovered his spirits. I saw that he was himself again and that his brain was functioning quite normally. Suddenly he suggested that we should go to the gypsies together. I refused, giving the lateness of the hour as an excuse. "That doesn't matter," he said. "They're quite used to that; sometimes they wait up for me all night. I'm often detained at Tsarskoe Selo by important business, or simply to talk about God.... When this happens I drive straight to the gypsies in a car. The body, too, needs a rest... isn't it so? All our thoughts belong to God, they are His, but our bodies belong to ourselves: That's the way it is!" added Rasputin with a wink. I certainly did not expect to hear such talk from a man who had just swallowed an enormous dose of poison. I was particularly struck by the fact that Rasputin, who had a quite remarkable gift of intuition, should be so far from realizing that he was near death. How was it that his piercing eyes had not noticed that I was holding a revolver behind my back, ready to point it at him? I turned my head and saw the crystal crucifix. I rose to look at it more closely. "What are you staring at that crucifix for?" asked Rasputin. "I like it," I replied, "it's so beautiful." "It is indeed beautiful," he said. "It must have cost a lot. How much did you pay for it?" As he spoke, he took a few steps toward me and, without waiting for an answer, added: "For my part, I like the cabinet better." He went up to it, opened it and started to examine it again. "Grigori Yefimovich," I said, "you'd far better look at the crucifix and say a prayer."

Rasputin cast a surprised, almost frightened glance at me. I read in it an expression which I had never known him to have: it was at once gentle and submissive. He came quite close to me and looked me full in the face. It was as though he had at last read something in my eyes, something he had not expected to find. I realized that the hour had come. "O Lord," I prayed, "give me the strength to finish it." Rasputin stood before me motionless, his head bent and his eyes on the crucifix. I slowly raised the revolver. Where should I aim, at the temple or at the heart? A shudder swept over me; my arm grew rigid, I aimed at his heart and pulled the trigger. Rasputin gave a wild scream and crumpled up on the bearskin. For a moment I was appalled to discover how easy it was to kill a man. A flick of the finger and what had been a living, breathing man only a second before, now lay on the floor like a broken doll. On hearing the shot my friends rushed in, but in their frantic haste they brushed against the switch and turned out the light. Someone bumped into me and cried out; I stood motionless for fear of treading on the body. At last, someone turned the light on. Rasputin lay on his back. His features twitched in nervous spasms; his hands were clenched, his eyes closed. A bloodstain was spreading on his silk blouse. A few moments later all movement ceased. We bent over his body to examine it. The doctor declared that the bullet had struck him in the region of the heart. There was no possibility of doubt: Rasputin was dead. Dmitri and Purishkevich lifted him from the bearskin and laid him on the flagstones. We turned off the light and went up to my room, after locking the basement door.

Our hearts were full of hope, for we were convinced that what had just taken place would save Russia and the dynasty from ruin and dishonor. In accordance with our plan, Dmitri, Sukhotin and the Doctor were to pretend to take Rasputin back to his house, in case the secret police had followed us without our knowing it. Sukhotin was to pass himself off as the starets and, wearing Rasputin's overcoat and cap, would drive off in Purishkevich's open car along with Dmitri and the Doctor. They were to return to the Moika in the Grand Duke's closed car, after which they would take the body to Petrovsky Island. Purishkevich and I remained at the Moika. While we waited for our friends, we talked of the future of our country, now that it was freed once and for all from its evil genius. How could we foresee that those who ought to have seized this unique opportunity would not have the will, or the skill, to do so?

As we talked I was suddenly filled with a vague misgiving; an irresistible impulse forced me to go down to the basement. Rasputin lay exactly where we had left him. I felt his pulse: not a beat, he was dead. Scarcely knowing what I was doing I seized the corpse by the arms and shook it violently. It leaned to one side and fell back. I was just about to go, when I suddenly noticed an almost imperceptible quivering of his left eyelid. I bent over and watched him closely; slight tremors contracted his face. All of a sudden, I saw the left eye open... A few seconds later his right eyelid began to quiver, then opened. I then saw both eyes - the green eyes of a viper - staring at me with an expression of diabolical hatred. The blood ran cold in my veins. My muscles turned to stone. I wanted to run away, to call for help, but my legs refused to obey me and not a sound came from my throat. I stood rooted to the flagstones as if caught in the toils of a nightmare. Then a terrible thing happened: with a sudden violent effort Rasputin leapt to his feet, foaming at the mouth. A wild roar echoed through the vaulted rooms, and his hands convulsively thrashed the air. He rushed at me, trying to get at my throat, and sank his fingers into my shoulder like steel claws. His eyes were bursting from their sockets, blood oozed from his lips. And all the time he called me by name, in a low raucous voice. No words can express the horror I felt. I tried to free myself but was powerless in his vicelike grip. A ferocious struggle began.... This devil who was dying of poison, who had a bullet in his heart, must have been raised from the dead by the powers of evil. There was something appalling and monstrous in his diabolical refusal to die. I realized now who Rasputin really was. It was the reincarnation of Satan himself who held me in his clutches and would never let me go till my dying day. By a superhuman effort I succeeded in freeing myself from his grasp. He fell on his back, gasping horribly and still holding in his hand the epaulette he had torn from my tunic during our struggle. For a while he lay motionless on the floor. Then after a few seconds, he moved. I rushed upstairs and called Purishkevich, who was in my study. "Quick, quick, come down!" I cried. "He's still alive!"

At that moment, I heard a noise behind me; I seized the rubber club Maklakov had given me (he had said: "one never knows") and rushed downstairs, followed by Purishkevich, revolver in hand. We found Rasputin climbing the stairs. He was crawling on hands and knees, gasping and roaring like a wounded animal. He gave a desperate leap and managed to reach the secret door which led into the courtyard. Knowing that the door was locked, I waited on the landing above, grasping my rubber club. To my horror and amazement, I saw the door open and Rasputin disappear. Purishkevich sprang after him. Two shots echoed through the night. The idea that he might escape was intolerable! Rushing out of the house by the main entrance, I ran along the Moika to cut him off in case Purishkevich had missed him. The courtyard had three entrances, but only the middle one was unlocked. Through the iron railings, I could see Rasputin making straight for it. I heard a third shot, then a fourth... I saw Rasputin totter and fall beside a heap of snow, Purishkevich ran up to him, stood for a few seconds looking at the body, then, having made sure that this time all was over, went swiftly into the house. I called, but he did not hear me. The quay and the adjacent streets were deserted; apparently the shots had not been heard. When I had reassured myself on this point, I entered the courtyard and went up to the snow-heap behind which lay Rasputin. He gave no sign of life.

But, at that moment, I saw two of my servants running up from one side and a policeman from the other. I went up to the policeman and spoke to him; I stood so as to make him turn his back to the spot where Rasputin lay. "Your Highness," he said on recognizing me, "I heard revolver shots. What has happened?" "Nothing of any consequence," I replied, "just a little horseplay. I gave a small party this evening and one of my friends who had drunk a little too much amused himself by firing his revolver into the air. If anyone questions you, just say that everything's all right, and that there is no harm done!" As I spoke, I led him to the gate. I then returned to the corpse by which the two servants were standing. Rasputin's body still lay in a crumpled heap on the same spot, but his position had changed. My God, I thought, can he still be alive? I was terror-stricken at the bare thought that he might suddenly get up again. I ran toward the house, calling Purishkevich, who had disappeared indoors. I felt sick, and Rasputin's hollow voice calling my name still rang in my ears. Staggering to my dressing room, I drank a glass of water. At that moment Purishkevich entered the room: "Ah! there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" he cried. My sight was blurred, I thought I was going to faint. Purishkevich helped me to my study. We had scarcely reached it when my manservant came to say that the policeman I had talked to a few moments before wished to see me again. The shots, it seems, had been heard from the police station, and my constable, whose beat it was, had been sent for to make a report on what had happened. As his version of the affair was considered unsatisfactory, the police insisted on fuller details. When the constable entered the room, Purishkevich addressed him in a loud voice: "Have you ever heard of Rasputin? The man who plotted to ruin our country, the Tsar and your brother-soldiers? The man who betrayed us to Germany, do you hear?" Not understanding what was expected of him, the policeman remained silent. "Do you know who I am?" continued Purishkevich. "I am Vladimir Mitrophanovich Purishkevich, member of the Duma. The shots you heard killed Rasputin. If you love your country and your Tsar, you'll keep your mouth shut." I listened with horror to this amazing statement, which came so unexpectedly that I had no chance to interrupt. Purishkevich was in such a state of excitement that he did not realize what he was saying. Finally, the policeman spoke: "You did right and I won't say a word unless I'm put on oath. I would then have to tell the truth as it would be a sin to lie." Purishkevich followed him out.

My manservant then informed me that Rasputin's body had been placed on the lower landing of the staircase. I felt very ill, my head swam and I could scarcely walk. I rose with difficulty, automatically picked up my rubber club, and left the study. As I reached the top of the stairs, I saw Rasputin stretched out on the landing, blood flowing from his many wounds. It was a loathsome sight. Suddenly, everything went black, I felt the ground slipping from under my feet and I fell headlong down the stairs. Purishkevich and Ivan found me, a few minutes later, lying side by side with Rasputin; the murderer and his victim. I was unconscious and he and Ivan had to carry me to my bedroom. Meanwhile Dmitri, Sukhotin and Doctor Lazovert came back in a closed car to fetch Rasputin's body. When Purishkevich told them what had happened, they decided to let me rest and go off without me. They wrapped the corpse in a piece of heavy linen, shoved it into the car, and drove to Petrovsky Island. There, from the top of the bridge, they hurled it into the river. On regaining consciousness I felt as though I had just recovered from a serious illness. The air I breathed in so deeply seemed fresh, clean and pure, as after a storm. I seemed to come to life again.

With the help of my servant I washed up all traces of blood which might give us away. When everything was in order I walked out into the courtyard... I had to think of some story to explain the revolver shots. This is what I decided to say: one of my guests while considerably the worse for liquor had tried to shoot one of our watchdogs in the courtyard when he was leaving. I then sent for the two servants who had seen the end of the tragedy and explained what had really happened. They listened in silence and promised to keep my secret. It was almost five in the morning when I left the Moika to return to the Grand Duke Alexander's palace. I felt full of courage and confidence at the thought that the first steps to save Russia had been taken. I found my brother-in-law Fyodor in my room. He had spent a sleepless night, anxiously waiting for me to come back. "Thank God you are here at last," he said. "Well?" "Rasputin is dead," I replied, "but I'm not in a fit state to talk about it; I am dropping with fatigue." Realising that I would need all my strength on the morrow to face the cross-examinations, the investigations, and perhaps even worse, I went to bed and at once fell into a deep sleep.

*Felix Yusupov was undergoing military training at the Corps des Pages at the time of the murder.

**the Yusupov palace on the Moika canal.

source: Lost Splendour by Felix Yusupov, chapter 23

[thorsenmark]

In Rapture of Light at Yosemite National Park by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A setting looking to the northeast while taking in views across the Merced River and nearby grassy meadow and forest to ridges and peaks of Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.

[mikimeiko]

Day 15 - Brno (Czechia)

I do manage to wake up earlier than yesterday! I decide to go check out the (formerly) industrial part of the city, starting with a walk alongside the Svitava river: there's a footpath/bike lane that goes along an old rail track that used to serve the factories (mostly textile mills) built on the riverside.

It's very pretty but even with no direct sun the weather is still pretty hot (and humid today), and even in the shade of the trees of a small park on the way it's not pleasant enough to just stop for a while and read.

So I decide to make the most of my 24h ticket that will expire in a couple of hours and go to Stránská Skála, a rock formation just out of the city (there's a tram that goes there. I LOVE taking trams to places outside cities). I wasn't sure what to expect, but I end up hiking to the top following a gentle enough path through trees and fields full of flowers.

I'm sure the view would be better if it wasn't overcast, but on the other hand most of the path is out of the trees and it would have been very hard to walk in the scorching sun. For the entire time I'm there I only see a couple of people, but I guess if you live here you just don't chose a day like today to go on the rock.

(I love places like these, gentle hikes that most people can enjoy. I live in a superflat valley right next to the Alps, the hikes that are usually available to me are INTENSE. But I don't want intense! I want gentle, calm and beautiful. That's why I particularly enjoyed walking the coast paths in the UK, I discovered a love of hiking there that I never thought I would have).

In the afternoon the sky clears up, the humidity lowers and the breeze comes back: it's nice enough that I decide to check out the bit of old town I haven't seen yet (there are still parts to be seen! This city is big!) and the park that surrounds Spilberk fortress.

It's a beautiful park but it's literally all up hill, and most of the paths are quite steep. I sit on a bench reading for a bit, enjoying the atmosphere. Then I climb up a little more, and I'm rewarded with this beautiful view of the cathedral (I could very likely get better views from higher up but HAVE I MENTIONED HOW STEEP THE PATHS ARE?).

I pass through the old town hall and I'm reminded that I haven't shared with you the most beautiful dragon in the world!

When I took this picture there was a Spanish family there with a tiny kid, and the kid was like "a crocodile! No... a dragon!"

I go back for the last time to the beer festival, and have halušky with sauerkraut and smoked bacon. And a radler. And yes, SUMMER OF THE RADLER. I still haven't find one as good as the watermelon one from Vienna, but radler beats both beer and lemonade right now. (I tried lemonade yesterday, it was good but definitely too sweet).

I keep thinking this is my last night in Czechia but it's not! I'll be in Plzen tomorrow night! Still sad to say goodbye to Brno, though, I think it might be my favourite city in this trip.

[hermitcraftkinfessions]

kicks rocks... i miss my friends... both as in i miss them now and wish i could find em, and missed them back then..

ya see, in season 1 of empires i was already a deity, but my creator sent me off to live with mortals when i was a kid and never knew who they were.. but by the finale when i die i ascended to "true godhood" and met up with my creator, big fuck you to that guy.

after Afterlife smp came season 2, where everyone well. didnt really. keep their memories as they reincarnated in new bodies.. althrough oddly similar to the last ones, some changes tho, ofc. But like. I retained all my memories, cause I was still me, I died as a "mortal", sure, I ascended, but still had the same memories of my mortal life. Still remembered my friends, my lover, my family. And none of them remembered me :( But fear not, dear readers /silly

For I did not give up, and like any good god, I could shapeshift, so I used that to my advantage! Shapeshifting as animals, old people, children, even appearing momentarily as an actual god, similar to my s1 looks but taller and with more gold accessories, but I only pulled that last one in moments they were very out of it so they thought they just had a fever dream. Like right before bed or for a fraction of a second around holy places (the cathedral, etc) Oh yes I looked over them, interacted briefly, they were different people but they were also in a way still my friends. They were still in there, I swear.

I also- I remember when I met Scott for the first time I threw away the "small interactions", i straight up shapeshifted into a mortal farmer (pretty similar to my s1 me but less fancy) and introduced myself to him, in a natural way, ofc- we started talking and yknow yeah we mightve fallen in love, and eventually i mightve told him the truth and he mightve been upset and thought i just loved his past self and not him... which at first was true, but i did love him by that point! he wasnt the SAME Scott i used to know but he was just as lovely in his own way! and eventually im p sure he regained some memories, was still himself, but then he could rember. and yeah we made up and stuff but we had a bit of a fall out when he found out the truth at first.. oops...

also gods (of a ""lower"" ranking like myself-) maaay have had a rule set by older ones/higher ups abt not interfering much with mortals... which i kinda rlly broke just there... and eventually w others too.. oopsiessss... twirls my hair w guilty big ol eyes

also pix was. somehow. a human yet immortal?? so he dissapeared in season 1 before the finale but by season 2 was the same guy who had been a historian/archeologist for years and had seen a bunch of shit happen *himself*, so yeaaah when we met it was also super emotional cause he remembered me. What I shifted as when we first met? call me stupid, but for some reason it was a child(11-14), I could control it but also not- at times it just kinda came out. I stayed like that even after he told me he knew who I was and I told him abt ascending and allat... yeah.... does that count as god-age regression /silly

another empires mems ramble!

-🌙Pearlie (He/She)

interesting, i really don't know what to put here, mod ex is more versed in things of this caliber but they're asleep so its just me

-Mod hels

[bettercostume]

i have thoughts about the jedi temple on coruscant. anyway:

its insane that its in like, the Tokyo of star wars. its like, sorry to mix similies, the church of scientology building in dupont circle, or the happy science places in said metropolis.

that being said, the fact that its shaped like a cathedral is boring! i think instead it would be partially a modern structure like we see in the prequels, but i think it would have set within it a massive piece of natural rock that the jedi pulled up from the depths of the planet's surface. I think the outside is business, and the inside is more organic and non-linear and intuitively designed, because the jedi are very strange, have members from multiple species, and have mindfuck powers.

so this massive spar of rock is the farthest wall of the building, and then the lower levels are carved out of it below the main floor. Party in the back. I think the raw face of the rock, once you got to the end of each hallway, or the far end of the training arena, would serve as a meditative and metaphoric object: you cannot move forward. i think they would use a lot of esoteric architecture that channels the force, etc

but also have a massive hollow center in the building, like the center of a teahouse or a courtyard in an apartment building or any of the insane architecture in the death star. you can access it at any level, not just ground, based on force-floated platforms. they would find vertical space and fluidity of space outside of their big fuckoff rock wall as very natural.

i think economy of space and use of everything right down to the bone would appeal to jedi, so i believe many rooms would be modular, everything serves multiple purposes, the shale boulder is a door or a table or a platform, everyone has a murphy bed. I think there are likely gardens at higher levels but they are built into crags, corners, rooftops.

I think also for training there would be no privacy. I think at the peak of their practice, jedi are a powerful political faction, cult, and experimental homeschooling practice and they need everyone to know the party line and form a very strong jedi identity. also i think the force flourishes in use and mass, because it's like emotion.

SO. when someone is exiled, it is very hard to reintegrate to society because it's like leaving the church. even if you hate it, the pull of it is undeniable. and hence i think the sith crave this connection and also decry it. it is the ultimate emotional burden and yet it cannot be acknowledged, and i think that also causes a lot of stress to very pure force users who have grown up in a rule-based system but are realizing they don't fully make sense in practice.

these are my thoughts for this thing i am doing. i think someone alienated would do a lot to keep it from happening again, were they given a second chance

[houseofbrat]

Both matches will be happening at 9 pm (21:00) local time in France.

That's 8 pm (20:00) in the UK.

Far too late to fly home (even on a private jet) and eat dinner with the kiddies when the match is over.

No, instead the environmental activist known as William, The Prince of Wales, will be flying on a private jet back and forth to the match because there are not enough commercial flights from London to Bordeaux without staying overnight. (I didn't see any red-eyes from Bordeaux to London when I looked online.)

Same with Kate going to Marseille.

Gee, if the environment and lowering fossil fuel emissions were so important, then why couldn't both just fly to Marseille first on a commercial plane, stay overnight in Marseille, travel to Bordeaux, stay overnight in Bordeaux, and then fly back to London on another commercial plane? Even if only one person attended each match?

Is that plan too economical and environmentally friendly?

Yet, as I said before, it seems that Will and Kate want to keep one parent at home with the kiddos at all times. Somehow, that wasn't an issue nine and a half months ago.

Can't wait to see Kate rock her two-week-plus, post-partum body on Friday and Saturday. Will she be wearing a tight dress to St. David's Cathedral to show it off, and make sure everyone sees she's carrying more weight around her middle?

[mixotrophics]

cities aren’t ecological dead zones. they can totally be Horrible(tm) for critters of all kinds incl. human beings. However they are not Dead per se, just New, and Weird, and Interesting, and they Have a lot going on and Can’t be written off because they’re huge and everywhere.

(Humans are troglofauna, cave critters, we live aboveground but we love caves. Thusly we make “homes” and they are mimetic of the Cave and our building edifices are mimetic of rocks and crags)

^ isle of Skye, rocky cliffs :)

Cities are rocks and crags and their layout (tall buildings, hard ground (concrete), hard surfaces in general, roads that are wind funnels, high amounts of energy inputs) is like a rocky cliffs area. As such, rocky cliffs animals live in cities. City pigeons are rock doves, they live on rocky islands usually. Peregrines, cliff-nesters, like to nest on tall things like church steeples, though theyre not so common as pigeons as pigeons were pets that were transported around the world on purpose. (Peregrines, where they live, love the Tall buildings, for example in Norwich upon the cathedral spire there’s a peregrine, she keeps nesting there, if you go near to it and see the Hawk and Owl ornithologists sitting there, they may have a camera looking at her babies!)

NORWICH CATHEDRAL PEREGRINE NEST FOOTAGE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6zavQvU9wc They have a livestream on their web site. May or may not be up becos they do not nest 24/7.

Norwich Cathedral Peregrine photographed by @ PeregrineSkip on twitter

Another from @ PeregrineSkip thats making me lose my mind because its a gull trying to yoink a pigeon from a peregrine. Its also great because all three of these critters have had their ranges go all funky from cities (rock roosting + domesticated pigeon, cliff nesting peregrine, opportunist scavenger gulls)

Because of a general Lack of water and plants and such, and the cars and engines and Bodies, and heated buildings, the meteorology gets messy. Cities are warmer and than surrounding areas. This is the Urban Heat Island effect. Some species may use these heat islands to overwinter.

Cities are also very disturbed. Nothing can rest, really. Gardens are pruned and dug. Lots are built up and broken down. we step on things. et cetera. BUT ALSO very undisturbed, because sometimes humans take a liking to a woodland or something in/next to their city, and protect it from damage incl. disturbance that would be good for it to endure, actually.

^^ for example this swag habitat (dunes) gets Devoured by plants like gorse & trees (and becomes a shrubland/forest) if it is protected too much, as regular trampling is what kills the gorse & gives the dune plants space to exist. Some places are encouraging pedestrian to walk on dunes, some places are grazing cattle, some (I’ve worked on a place that did this) get diggers and just rip up all the plants down to bare sand.

Anyways in cities: What you get is a very specific environment. Rocky, hot, disturbed and also not, full of people. Some critters love this. hence cities are full of rats, pigeons, similar. And in the case of rats, pigeons, bradford pear, etc, we move species to cities (on accident, on purpose). Ultimately, you get something weird:

Globally, city “biomes” in different locations (VASTLY far apart) are way more similar than comparable biomes of the same distance (in technical terms: lower β diversity). City biota tends to be native species that like city biome characteristics + imported nonnative species. and AND (at least in plants) the profile of “imported nonnative species” that cause cities to be more similar are European ones, carrying a reminder of colonial history. (note that cities in different geographical areas still do have distinct and unique organisms)

,, However, some argue that extirpating some/all of invasives from cities isn’t worthwhile firstly because getting rid of invasives is hard, but secondly because we NEED to interact with plants and animals and the like. We are part of nature and it is part of us. It is good for our mental and physical health, and access to green spaces is overwhelmingly unequal (due to placement in wealthy/white areas, needing to drive there, needing to pay for entry, Not Allowing Gardening bc of HOAs and other control measures, poor & marginalised folks simply not having the time due to working multiple jobs...) that getting rid of things that Can and Do find their niche in cities without systemic changes that fucking Do Something about unequal access to nature would b worsening it.

On the flip side because of fabricated consumerist desire, people upset ecosystems. For example a lot of invasives which Thrive in gardens (which were planted because they’re pretty and usually typical European garden plants) are getting into threatened longleaf pine savannah, and they can’t get in there if there are wildfires with decent frequency.

remember any effects that negatively impact ecologies are not inherent to humanity & are driven by ceos with names and addresses (directly and indirectly) :]c

Anyways cities have a lot to unpack and im not going in depth with anything ive brought up here really but I enjoy pondering them.

[seabreeze2022]

2023 Bahama Cruise, Part 26, May 11 Rock Sound, Eleuthera.

Nancy is trimming sails on our way up the west side of Eleuthera. The Puritans named the island Eleuthera in the 1700’s. Which is a derivative of the Greek word, “Eleutheros”, meaning Free or Freedom.

Saturday, filet mignon night. Thanks Dush and Kelly!

To bring you you up to date. We had arrived outside the Rock Sound Harbor, Eleuthera on Saturday and decided to anchor off of a long beach. Instead of going the last couple of miles to Rock Sound Harbor. Because there was a huge rain storm over the harbor. We had to anchor a ways off shore to find good sand to anchor in. We had good protection from the waves and a cool night with the winds.

Anchoring further away from land usually assures mosquito free nights. Rigged the boat for quick closing with multiple rain showers expected. Since the threat was rain and not mosquitoes, we remove the screens and added a draw string to the hatch handle. No need to go on deck half asleep, to lower the open hatches. Just pull down on the draw string hanging down into the cabin to close the hatch.

But the first day it was too windy for Nancy to paddleboard. I spent 3 hours making water, reading etc.

Sunday Nancy paddled to shore and I met her using the dinghy. We both walked the beach looking for shells. We found several Murex shells. Then snorkeled back to the boat. Very few corals of fans. So we made the decision to go anchor off of the settlement.

As we started walking up Fish Road, we came across some cute art work. There are so many abandoned houses in the Bahamas. Some over a hundred years old. Some only a couple years old, just never finished. This art work really brightened up the city. Using the abandoned house elevated it from being a blight to a beautiful object.

Just up the block, we ran into Warren who is the artist. He is recently retired from being a nurse in Nassau for 42 years. He has a passion for cleaning up his hometown. “Grand Ma’s” was his grandmothers ice cream store, but she has passed on. Now it is his art store. Warren dropped the wet paint brush he was painting with, to talk to us. Giving us a tour of his works. Super nice guy full of energy.

The dark round hole at the bottom of the photo is “Ocean Hole”. Number one tourist destination at Rock Sound. It is confirmed to be over 110 ft. deep. But rumored to be around 700 feet. Warren told us to take bread for the Snapper.

Apparently the Mangrove Snapper and Grouper were stocked in there by local fishermen as well as Parrotfish. The parrot fish died when the trees around the hole were cut down and fell in the water.

Dye was put in the hole at some point and it showed up in the ocean nearby. Proving that it is connected underground to the ocean and a new source of water. We walked around town for an hour and saw most of it, so back to the boat for dinner.

The next morning we walked to “The Boiling Hole” and “Cathedral Cave”. Passing by the beautiful St Luke’s Anglican Church built 1863. For most of the settlements we have seen on Eleuthera the old churches are built at the waters edge and not on top of the hills overlooking the town. Usually they are very prominent and the first thing you see approaching from the sea.

The next biggest tourist attraction is a ten minute walk out of town to the cave and Boiling hole (photo above). The caves are not the ones on the far shore. They are another 5 minute walk through the bush.

Luckily the old wooden ladder was not too rotten. Only a couple of steps had broken. Interestingly many mosquitoes hang just outside the cave. I was thinking the bats were not doing their job. But several species here are actually fruit bats that migrate, and have not acquired a taste for mosquitoes.

We were lucky the bats had apparently migrated back and were flying around in the cave. This cave has many large openings in the ceiling, so plenty of light. Actually no need for carrying flashlights.

On the way back we realized that there was an old cemetery that was completely abandoned and overgrown next to the road and beach. Such a shame. Again the graves are pointed east. Above is the only one with a head stone. Most were just mounds of rock. This one was 1905?

From the caves we walked 30 minutes across the island to the supposedly “pink beach”. Pretty, but no sea shells. Nancy took a quick dip.

Half way back, we stop and talk with Rose. She is feeding stay dogs called “Pot lickers”. She shared some hog plums with us. Nancy had already gone out into the bush and picked half a dozen mangoes.

The fisherman had come in with their gill net full of grunts. Each settlement has a dock with a covered stand for the fisherman to use while cleaning fish. We made multiple trips to the gas station filling jerry jugs with either diesel or gas. Our tanks are full and are carrying 12 gallons of diesel and 12 gallons of gasoline on deck. This may be our last place to fuel up before we make it home.

Cruisers rate the settlements by there grocery stores. Rock Sound has the cheapest grocery store that is fairly large. This was much more industrious then the settlements on Cat Island. Again most of the younger folks have moved away for jobs. When they retire they move back. This leaves a void of workers. That is where we see the Haitians getting a foot hold.

Honestly I must say, if you have never been to Rock Sound you need to go. If you have ever been to Rock Sound, you don’t need to go again.

Now that procuring fuel is going to be tough we are making a point of sailing more and motoring less. So we sail ten miles to the next settlement of Tarpum Bay.

S/V Sea Breeze.