#delonis

[your-good-pal-chevy]

Swordtember : 2 : Paired

"As one of my countrymen once said, the hilt of a sword contains a subtle poison, and one should-"

"Deadly poison," Lionel interjected.

"The word is subtle in the original Sylladan," Kalliste countered. She jabbed her waster, a wooden training sword, in Lionel's direction. "Let me finish."

"Why would it be subtle? I didn't think your language took many loanwords from Vallais." Lionel folded his arms, letting his waster hang limply from one hand.

Kalliste sighed and swatted Lionel's waster from his grip, sending the wooden sword clattering to the ground. "I didn't literally mean the word subtle. Quit being a nuisance," she said, a small smile playing on her lips in spite of herself. "Let me finish."

Lionel's hands went up in a gesture of surrender. "Fine," he said, "I'll keep my thorough education to myself."

Kalliste ignored his words and gestured to his waster with her own, indicating for him to pick it up. "Sword, hilt. Subtle poison. What the esteemed Enrico Ziani was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted me was that you have to be careful with how you think about fighting."

"Sure, sure." Lionel nodded sagely, ignoring the suspicious squint in Kalliste's eyes as he interjected once more.

Satisfied that he wasn't about to launch into another nitpick about word choice, Kalliste sighed and brushed her dark hair from her eyes. Then, taking a strong stance, she raised her waster in both hands and gestured at it with her chin.

"When you fight, you must be careful. It's easy to lose track of what's going on around you and to lose sight of everything but the opponent right in front of you. I have a sneaking suspicion we're going to be getting outnumbered in a lot of fights going forward, so you have to be aware of the people around you as well as your opponent's actions."

She went through the motions of parrying a strike as though beset on multiple sides. Lionel watched with naked awe as she seemed to dance between the imaginary blades, each motion of her body perfectly communicating intent and action. Though she moved slowly, to let him see her technique, he felt as if he could almost see the battle taking place in her mind.

Finishing her demonstration, Kalliste took a sudden step forward and thrust her waster just past Lionel's head, far faster than he could react to. "And, of course, it has a second meaning."

Lionel stared at the wooden blade for a moment. "Two meanings. Does subtle also mean deadly in your homeland, by any chance?"

"Cute." Kalliste relaxed her stance, slinging her waster into the empty loop on her belt that normally held her real blade. "The second thing that Enrico meant was that when you fight often, you can become accustomed to it. You may begin to fail to see solutions other than violence, if you steep yourself in such things."

Lionel nodded. "I understand. Don't lose track of what's going on in a fight, don't lose track of options outside of fighting. This is entry-level philosophy-of-combat stuff."

Kalliste sighed. "Don't complain that we're starting with the basics. You're the one who asked me to practice with you, and I need to gauge where you're at. If we are to fight together, our blades paired in intent, we must understand not only how the other fights but also the other thinks."

Lionel considered Kalliste's words for a moment. In many regards, she was an open book. As she fought, and he'd seen her fight, she rarely fought with subtlety. Kalliste was an open book, seeming to dare her opponents to react to her lightning speed and deadly skill.

On the other hand, Lionel was far less talented. He had struggled fighting the thugs of the Greencloak bandits. His mind was swift, he could always see his opponents' movements before they came, but his body was slow. He looked down at his hands.

"I hardly think I'm a match for your skill, Kalli." Lionel clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. Callused as they were from his years of labor, he felt as if he couldn't possibly learn to fight like Kalliste did.

Kalliste put her own hands on Lionel's. Her hands, callused only by the hilt of her sword, wrapped gently around his balled fists. "You don't need to match me. If you cannot fight like I do, learn to fight as I do not. You're clever, use that. Fight dirty, fight cheap. While all eyes are on me, let your blade be subtle and deadly."

Lionel chuckled. "I'm telling you, we don't translate it as subtle here."

"Shush. I'm trying to be supportive." Kalliste turned and knocked her hip into Lionel's, nearly sending him sprawling, and then walked back to her first position.

"Now then." Kalliste drew her waster, the wooden sword held gently between herself and Lionel. "Show me subtle, and we can work on deadly."

Lionel finally bent to retrieve his discarded waster, his hip smarting from where Kalliste had knocked it earlier. "Fine," he said, "But you're only encouraging me to be a smart-ass about it."

"I can live with that," Kalliste said, trying not to giggle. "Now let us see what you can do!"

[political-us]

The Ramsey Show addresses housing crisis and corporate greed

[abwwia]

Jenny Eakin Delony at her Little Rock, Arkansas studio, April 1891

Jenny Eakin Delony, Self-portrait,

also known as Jenny Eakin Delony Rice and Jenny Meyrowitz, (1866–1949) was an American painter and educator. She specialized in portraits of notable and historic figures in the United States, but also made miniature, landscape, wildlife, still life, and genre paintings. She was the founder of collegiate art education in Arkansas. Via Wikipedia

Born: May 13, 1866 Washington, Arkansas

Died: April 1, 1949 (aged 82) Little Rock, Arkansas

[gladiiviperarum]

@katabasiiis

It was late, probably far too late for most people to be sitting in a courtesan's courtyard without the intention of sampling whatever the premises had to offer, yet there Arran was once again leaning back against a pillar as he watched the socializing guests with a half filled drink in his hands.

"How long, exactly, do you require your musicians to train before you hire them? I know a friend who is pretty handy with a lute."

[genevieveetguy]

Slacker, Richard Linklater (1990)

[suzilight]

"You cast her in a movie she didn't know she was in, and you're upset she doesn't know the lines."

-- Dr. John Delony

Having expectations that you don’t communicate sets up conflict and resentment. How many relationships could benefit by practicing better communication? I know I've made mistakes like this. Create a mandatory Life Skills class for high school.

This came up in a personal relationship between a mother and adult daughter. But, I can see how a boss and employees could be twisted up in different visions for job performance because it wasn't communicated clearly.

[eleven-fiftynine]

We’re over-sanitized, over-informed, over-stimulated and under-rested. We’ve tried to root out all discomfort, pain, and ugliness, and we’ve found ourselves sick, less mobile, lacking resilience, easily offended, addicted, dying from diseases of despair. Our bodies are anxious messes, weightless from the lack of true challenges and simultaneously weighed down underneath manufactured “chronic stressors—keeping up with the Joneses, work drama, bills, gossip, that kind of thing. . . . We are now . . . getting done in by ourselves. By the tales we tell ourselves about what we need to achieve and when and why and in relation to whom.

Building a Non-Anxious Life by Dr. John Delony

[poetbutterkristenmitchell]

I Hate I Have To Tell You This

[orxna]

Application To Adopt Orana Feddic-Hawke-Tethras

Name: Lida Delonis Age: milf aged Occupation: courtesan and madam Please List Your History of Crimes Below: fucking with ronos caedron’s head for several decades but is that REALLY a crime; espionage; being too hot (hot damn) Check Box If Crimes were Committed Due To ☑ A Sense of Justice. ☑ Personal Revenge. ☐ An Elaborate Plot to Conquer a City/Country/Etc. ☑ Just Kinda Felt Like It.

Are you nice to insects you find in the house? ❒︎Yes ❒︎No

What are your opinions on Blood Magic? ☐ Bad. ☑ Fine, but only if you use your own blood. ☐ Great! I’m using blood magic to fill out this form!

[gitanojrofficial]

Psique" (1889) de Jenny Eakin Delony

Ubicación: La pintura es parte de una colección privada, pero se ha exhibido en exposiciones, y el trabajo de Delony generalmente está representado en colecciones estadounidenses.

La historia detrás de la obra de arte: La Psique de Delony, pintada mientras estudiaba en París, está inspirada en la mitología griega, en particular en el cuento de Psique de las Metamorfosis de Apuleyo. En este mito, Psique es una mujer mortal que se somete a pruebas para reunirse con su amante, Eros (Cupido), logrando finalmente la inmortalidad. La pintura representa a Psique de una manera elegante y etérea, sosteniendo una caja misteriosa. Esta escena probablemente hace referencia al momento en que Psique abre la caja que le dio Perséfone, un evento clave en su viaje mitológico.

La figura de Cerbero, el perro guardián de tres cabezas del inframundo, acecha detrás de ella, añadiendo una sensación de presentimiento a la figura serena de Psique. Este contraste entre el peligro y la inocencia pone de manifiesto el coraje y la determinación de Psique mientras se enfrenta a peligrosas tareas para demostrar su amor. La atención al detalle y el uso de temas clásicos de Delony se hacen eco de su formación académica en París, donde estudió en prestigiosas instituciones como la Académie Julian.

[stephanspiritual]

Kinkservatism: The Politics Of Repression And Control | Stuart Delony

[your-good-pal-chevy]

The Doom of Rastos

The Old Empire lasted thousands of years, reaching untold heights unknown to the modern day. They were supreme masters of architecture, philosophy, magic, medicine, and every other discipline that the Imperials bothered to apply themselves to. The Old Empire lasted thousands of years. It was brought down in a single night.

There are vanishingly few accounts of precisely what occurred in the hours leading up to the Doom. All those present were struck dead simultaneously, and then those in the adjoining rooms were killed, and so on. Approximately fifteen acres out from the epicenter, people began to merely be struck blind, falling to the earth screaming and babbling incoherently.

What is known is that Emperor Rastos the Last, though he was not called that at the time, had called the greatest mages and prophets of the Empire to the palace. For weeks they filtered in from the many great cities and temples and outskirts of the Empire. Bright pennants flew above the many entourages and processions and carriages, declaring the identities of each to everyone who saw them coming.

Eventually, after all who had been called had arrived, there was a grand feast the likes of which never seen before or since. And then, at its conclusion, the gates were shut and barred. Servants were banished from the palace, save those essential to its operations.

The Grand Work had begun.

A month passed. Inside was a flurry of activity as mages wrote and scried and sacrificed. Almost no one came or went.

A year passed. A breakthrough occurred. A secret, too secret, was learned. Something that Man was forbidden from knowing. They came to close to something that would upset the balance, throw reality itself into turmoil.

Something stirred. Then another. Then a third. Three beings, three Incipients, from which all Divinity flowed. Only the barest motes of their power were roused from slumber, and in that single moment a thousand upon thousand Gods were empowered.

The Gods avenged themselves upon the Empire which had sought to control them, to subjugate Divinity, to elevate itself from the material to the Mystery.

The Celestials, the Ladies of Star and Sun and Moon, were the first to strike. Countless Imperial citizens across the Empire were struck dumb, suddenly incapable of articulating speech. Words lost meaning, the very name of the Imperial Capital was scrubbed from the collective memory of mankind.

Systems broke down as the Curse of Incivility spread. Men turned on one another, murdering each other over petty slights, refusing to cooperate with each other in the wake of the madness.

As they quarreled, the Celestials unleashed the Demons of the Upper Air. Ravenous flapping beasts came down from the Heavens, gnashing their teeth and undoing the greatest works of the Empire. Only the least of their cities and monuments and buildings were spared, the greatest of their accomplishments all reduced to rubble.

Stars fell from the heavens, crushing those who could not find shelter. Fire rained from the sky. It was the end of the world.

The Terrestrials, the Old Men of Hill and Dale, were the second to strike. They commanded the beasts of the world to do their bidding, to ravage the Empire. They commanded the trees to rise up upon their roots and throw down the works of Men. They commanded the Earth itself to open up and swallow entire cities.

Order broke down as the Curse of Unnaturality spread. Dogs turned on their masters, ganging together to rip Men apart. Horses trampled their riders, oxen kicked open their pens and chased down the fleeing.

As they cowered, the Terrestrials unleashed the Demons of the Untamed Wild. Strange and awful things emerged from the woods, and at their side the animals rose up on their hind legs, took up spear and axe and sword. They lead armies, cruel mockeries of the Imperial Legion, in meticulously hunting down those who thought they might escape.

The beasts took the place of man, the plants rose up and danced, and unknown numbers were killed. The Imperial Capital slid into the sea. It was the end of the world.

The Infernals, the Strangers of Abyss and Flame, were the last to strike.

No one spoke of what they did. The survivors refused to write it down. Those lost were unable. The Curse of Unmystery was, somehow, too much for any to dare put pen to paper.

Only one singular account exists, consisting of a single scribe's work. He did not describe it, having simply been writing at the time it occurred. As it came upon him, all he wrote was that he now understood.

Surely, at some point, the Demons of the Inner Fire were unleashed. What they did can only be speculated.

The Doom of Rastos lasted a scant few hours, in the middle of the night, but it decimated an Empire that had withstood thousands of years of bitter turmoil and warfare.

And yet, in its wake, new seeds began to grow. The Valatii liberated themselves from their chains, eventually conquering the cursed lands of the Imperial Heartland of Kardikora. The Heavenly Empire of Shi, suddenly the greatest living nation, became the new center of civilization. Countless other nations and tribes and peoples, all of whom having been irrelevant in the shadow of the Empire, found themselves the heroes of their own stories.

It is in this Age of Dusk, the setting of the Imperial sun, that the Matter of Vallis began.

[political-us]

Censorship in the /DaveRamsey reddit group.

These are the only two posts I made. No other comments or posts. Both posts were taken down and I have been officially banned.

[abwwia]

Jenny Eakin Delony (1866–1949) also known as Jenny Eakin Delony Rice and Jenny Meyrowitz, (1866–1949) was an American painter and educator. via W #PalianSHOW

[gladiiviperarum]

@katabasiiis // (x)

Maea tried and failed to resist the urge to roll her eyes as a small whine escaped her lips, her arms folded across her chest like a petulant child.

"I knowwwwwww! That's what you say about all of them! But surely if we're charging all of this money, we should have the right to call a customer boring every now and then. He might even agree!"

[ssolson]

Enjoy The Illusion Of Liberty | Stuart Delony