Dark Flower Ch. 17 (previously The Flower Ch. 11)

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Mikayla
Valsharess of ALFA
Posts: 3707
Joined: Sat Jan 03, 2004 5:37 pm
Location: Qu'ellar Faen Tlabbar, Noble Room 7, Menzoberranzan, NorthUnderdark

Dark Flower Ch. 17 (previously The Flower Ch. 11)

Post by Mikayla »

[Author's note. The conversation which comes at the end of Chapter 11 took somewhere around three or four hours to run its course. I do not have a log of it, as it occured before that helpful post about logging in game chat window dialogue. Therefore, I have done my best to condense it. My apologies to Mr. Duncan, the other participant in the conversation, for not having a more accurate recollection or recording of that conversation.]

***

The Flower, Chapter 11

Jain’n and Fenifef were waiting on the roof of Ellewyn’s tower when the bloodied war band returned from repelling the Talonite raid. Sheyreiza’s happiness at seeing Jain’n safe overwhelmed her anger at his having left without her. Her happiness was short lived. The accusations and arguments started almost immediately. Sheyreiza and Inthara quickly found themselves on the defensive against Jain’n’s questions and the accusations of the other elves. Inthara retreated from the argument, holding her stomach. Nylo followed, his expression of anger turning to concern. The others, embroiled in the emotions of the moment, kept at each other.

Sheyreiza was doing her best to explain her actions to Jain’n when the first bolt of pain hit her in the abdomen. The pain came like a thunderbolt, blowing everything else in Sheyreiza’s perception into the background. She staggered and gasped for breath. A second bolt of pain hit her. She screamed and fell to her knees. Behind her, Inthara was now yelling in pain as well. Nylo hovered over the stricken drow sorceress, his eyes wide in shock. “Oh no, oh no,” he kept repeating.

Sheyreiza clutched herself as another bolt of pain hit her. She screamed again. This time, the bolt of pain did not recede. The pain stayed, radiating pure agony through her lower torso and loins. She rolled immodestly on the floor of the tower chamber, heedless of appearances, gasping for breath between screams. Desperately, she rolled back on her stomach and began crawling towards the battlements for support to stand. Blood trailed behind her. She felt the blood, hot, wet and sticky on her thighs. She felt between her legs and realized the blood was flowing like a stream from her sex. She knew what it meant. This was the start of a miscarriage. She was going to lose the baby.

The others, except for Jain’n, were clustered around Inthara who had fallen first. She too was bleeding and screaming. The elves immediately suspected the unborn babies had contracted the mysterious, magical plague the Talonite druids had been spreading. Jain’n watched Sheyreiza crawl, a look of shock and horror crossing his face. For a moment, he did not move, he just watched as Sheyreiza tried in vain to use the battlement to stand. Blood flowed freely from her sex now and she was alternating between ragged gasping breaths and agonized screams. Suddenly, Jain’n snapped into action. He stepped forward and scooped Sheyreiza up into his arms. Then he headed for the door. Though burdened by Sheyreiza’s weight, Jain’n took the stone steps two at a time as he ran through the tower. Once outside he broke into a run, still carrying his stricken lover. Sheyreiza was not screaming now. The pain was so great there was no energy left to scream, no breath to waste on something so frivolous. Sheyreiza watched the blue sky of the north pass as Jain’n carried her. Her black hands clutched at her sex as if trying to hold back the flow of the red gore.

A minute later the pair arrived in the Heart of Lonelywood, the great circle where in stood the monolithic prayer stone. Jain’n set Sheyreiza down, spread out a fur cloak, and then placed her on it. He began to pray. Sheyreiza had no breath, no way to block out the pain, no chance of praying with him. She could not even cast a healing on herself when she tried. Pain shot through her entire body and her back arched. She screamed, a long high-pitched yell that seemed to shake the trees. Sheyreiza realized she was not just going to lose the baby; she was very likely going to die herself.

A sense of loss swept over her. Not for the death of the unborn; the unborn had a pure soul if it had a soul at all, so it could find its own way to Arvandor. Sheyreiza’s sense of loss was for all those things she would not be able to finish now. She would never get to love Jain’n again. She would never be able to tell Inthara that she loved her too. She would never be able to save her son. In truth she knew saving her son was most likely a suicide mission. If her son at least knew she tried, however, then he would know she loved him. That was the one thing Sheyreiza realized she felt the worst about. If she died here, her son would never know that she loved him; he would never know that she cared for him at all. Her unborn would know, for they would travel to the realm of the dead together, even if they were later parted, but her son never know his mother loved him.

More pain swept through Sheyreiza and she realized she was going to pass out soon. A shadow fell over her. She felt hot breath on her face, but not Jain’n’s. The scent was just as sweet as her sun-elf lover’s, but different. With what strength she had left, she focused on who, or what, was standing over her.

It was one of the unicorns from the glade. There was a mated pair of unicorns that lived in Lonelywood. Sheyreiza had seen them many times. They were one of the great treasures of the wood. Jain’n had showed them to Sheyreiza when she first arrived. Sheyreiza had been terrified. She had grown up hearing horror stories about what unicorns would do to Ilythiiri girls they caught. All of Jain’n’s reassurances could not calm Sheyreiza but she went to see the unicorns anyway. How could she not? She loved Jain’n. The unicorns were just as terrifying to her as she feared. They were magnificent, and their glorious appearance merely reinforced what Sheyreiza had been told about the unicorn’s ability to see into a woman’s heart. Sheyreiza wanted no one looking into her heart. In Sheyreiza’s heart lay fear: fear of death; fear of the afterlife with Lolth; fear of many things. The unicorns did not attack Sheyreiza though. In the first months of her life in Lonelywood, Jain’n took Sheyreiza to see the unicorns several times. In time, Sheyreiza grew to like the beasts, though she could never rid herself entirely of her unease.

The unicorn standing above her bowed its head. Sheyreiza realized it was offering her its horn. The horn of a unicorn was said to be magical, a source of great healing. Sheyreiza touched it. The unicorn then bent its head lower and touched Sheyreiza’s bleeding sex with the horn. For a moment, the unicorn pressed its horn against her there, while she clutched at the horn weakly, barely maintaining her consciousness.

The pain passed. Sheyreiza could breath again. The unicorn lifted its head, pulling the now bloody horn away from Sheyreiza. Jain’n watched the unicorn with awe, then turned to his stricken lover.

“And…and the baby?” He asked.

Sheyreiza held up a hand for Jain’n to wait. She lay, calmly now, trying to breath, to feel. She ran her hands over her stomach and sex, feeling for signs of life within her.

“The baby lives, I think.” She said. As she said it, she knew it was true. She gasped for breath. “Yes, the baby lives.” She nodded weakly.

Jain’n bent over her, clutching at her knees, pressing himself to her. He began uttering prayers of thanks. Sheyreiza also gave thanks as best she was able. Speaking was still difficult. The ordeal had left her so weak. She heard snow crunching and realized the unicorn was walking away. Jain’n kept holding her and she just lay there on the fur in the snow, holding her belly and sex while saying silent prayers to the Dark Maiden. Sheyreiza began to drift.

A scream brought her back to wakefulness. She knew the voice. It was Inthara. There was another scream. She could hear Nylo’s voice as well. The pair had followed Jain’n and Shey to the circle. Jain’n quickly stammered out something about the unicorn. Nylo wasted no time. In the distance, Sheyreiza could hear Nylo running, his bleeding lover in his arms. Inthara was screaming in pain and calling out to the unicorn, begging for the life of her unborn. Sheyreiza did not have the strength to sit up. She began to drift again.

Sheyreiza continued to drift in and out of consciousness as Jain’n carried her back to the tower. It seemed like an eternity. Sheyreiza lost all sense of time. She was so tired.

Jain’n’s entire war band was in the tower when Sheyreiza and Jain’n returned. Inthara was alive, as was her baby.

The unicorn that had saved them, as well as Sheyreiza and her unborn child, was dead. The unborn children had been infected with the mysterious plague, and it had cost the unicorn its life to save them.

Sheyreiza could see the horror, the anger, the shock that was on the faces all around her, but she could say little. She was so tired. She could not even clean herself up. Dried blood stained her thighs, armor and boots. As the others cried, yelled, and argued, Sheyreiza curled up on a pile of pillows in front of the fireplace and went to sleep.

***

Sheyreiza awoke from her reverie at the approach of her lover, Jain’n. She was sitting on the pillows in front of the tower’s fireplace. She smiled. She had not seen much of Jain’n in the several days since the death of the unicorn. The ordeal had taken a lot out of her and her recovery was slow. Sheyreiza rested more than she was awake. Jain’n on the other hand, patrolled night and day.

The other elves of the warband were furious with Sheyreiza and Inthara. They blamed the two women for the death of the magical beast. Zymastria, especially, was angered, for she was worshipper of Lurue, the unicorn goddess. The day after the death, Zymastria and Fenifef had come to the tower to speak with Nylo. When they saw Sheyreiza, they turned their backs on her and refused to answer her greeting. Sheyreiza had been incensed. She knew they were angry with her, but she had no intention of tolerating such rudeness in her own home. Zymastria, Fenifef and Nylo left, but Sheyreiza had followed them to the guest cottage in the village. There, Sheyreiza had confronted them.

As Zymastria and Sheyreiza began exchanging words Nylo had grabbed a bottle and headed out the cottage door. He was drunk and had been since the death of the unicorn. He was so inebriated that day he could not talk and could barely walk. Still, he had managed to stagger out of the cottage and into the snows. Zymastria and Sheyreiza had continued their heated exchange until Zymastria could take it no longer. She had walked away, leaving Sheyreiza alone with Fenifef.

Fenifef, who was making tea in the cottage, rebuked Sheyreiza. Sheyreiza turned on him. Fenifef Mayflower was an Ilythiiri male and that made Sheyreiza instantly suspicious. When he had first appeared, Sheyreiza thought he was most likely an assassin sent by her enemies in Skullport. Jain’n said Fenifef was surface born and not a threat to anyone. Though Fenifef acted like a fop, Sheyreiza kept an eye on him. Fop or not, he was Ilythiiri. He could not be trusted. His apparent disinclination to violence and conflict could be an act. Sheyreiza’s anger spiked as he rebuked her from the kitchen of the cottage. She had spent more than a century learning to use her anger and hatred to keep Ilythiiri males down, to put them in their place and to dominate them at all times. Sheyreiza, already incensed with Zymastria, gave into her natural urge to keep the male down.

“There was a time,” she had hissed at him, “when I would have killed you for talking to me like that.” Fenifef froze, his eyes going wide as Sheyreiza’s gaze bored into him. “If you think this is some idle boast, ask Inthara. I’ve sent other Ilythiiri males into Skullport’s harbor for less.” Sheyreiza stood before him, her body tensed to strike, her hand hovering above the hilt of her blade, her red eye glaring as hot as her blue eye glared cold. It was a posture, an attitude she had used countless times before when she had been a Yathrin d’Lolth. It was posture that said quite simply, bow or die.

Fenifef had started shaking and his eyes had watered with barely restrained tears. “You’re not Ilythiiri, you’re drow, just like the books say.” He had stammered. “You’re just like the drow of myth. Cruel, evil, cold. You’re a monster.”

Sheyreiza had glowered back at the trembling male. “You do not even know what it means to be Ilythiiri.” Her voice had been a low, growling hiss. “I am Ilythiiri. You are just a dark skinned weakling.” Sheyreiza’s words had caused tears to stream down Fenifef’s dark cheeks and his shaking had threatened to send the teacups tumbling to the floor. Sheyreiza found she could not look at him anymore. His tears, his trembling and his words had hit her like a hammer. Was she really that cruel? That evil? That cold? Was she really a monster? She had turned away.

The female who called herself Arizel entered the cottage, aiding a stumbling, drunk, nearly passed out Nylo. She and Sheyreiza had spoken for a minute. Sheyreiza had tried to rebuke Nylo for drinking so much, but Zymastria came back into the argument as did the trembling Fenifef. Sheyreiza had grown frustrated with them all. She certainly did not need these weaklings, so she had left.

She knew she would hear about this again. She knew they would go to Jain’n. She knew they would tell him she was a ‘monster.’

Now Jain’n stood before her. Though she knew he was likely going to be mad about the incident, she was still happy to see him.

“Vendui’ love.” She said in greeting.

“Hello flower.” The person speaking was Jain’n, but the voice was not his. The voice was female and older. Sheyreiza’s smile faltered. The spirits were in him again.

Sheyreiza remembered first encountering the spirits that periodically possessed Jain’n the day that Vraja died. It seemed that Jain’n was the vessel or the medium for a number of his ancestors’ spirits. Every now and then they would come to the fore, pushing Jain’n’s persona into some unseen limbo. There were several distinct personalities. One was grizzled male, a warrior most likely. Another was a younger male, rather foppish like Fenifef but often drunk and certainly not adverse to conflict or violence. The voice speaking now was an old woman’s. Her speech was soft, almost soothing. It was the tongue of a ‘velvet Matron’ as the drow would say; a Matron whose command and confidence was so great she could rule without over bluster and threat.

“Flower, we must talk.” The old woman’s voice said through Jain’n’s lips.

“Alright.” Sheyreiza eyes narrowed. She did not truly fear speaking to Jain’n, even if it was likely he would be mad. He loved her. The voices, the spirits, did not love her. Some of them did not even like her. Some probably hated her.

The old woman’s voice spoke again. “Come, let us go to the docks.” Jain’n offered his hand to Sheyreiza.

A chill ran through her body. The docks? Why the docks? The tower was much more private. It was also warmer, and if it was a view he wanted, or if the spirit wanted, the roof of the tower had the best view in Lonelywood. There were only two answers Sheyreiza could think of and they were as obvious as they were ominous. First, the docks were located in the village and the village was outside of the enchanted part of the woods. Once she followed him outside the enchanted area, he could change the password to the Faerie Trods and effectively lock her out of the woods, the tower, and the circle. A pit formed in her stomach. She knew he was going to do this.

Second, the dock was narrow and over water. He knew she hated and feared the water. If Jain’n managed to get her out on the dock he would have her cornered. Once cornered, he could kill her if he wanted. She would not be able to escape. This she was not sure he was going to do. Even as she reached for his hand she tried to think of a way to discern his intentions. If he tried to get her onto the dock in front of him, she would know. If he paused, for whatever reason, before they got onto the dock, and told her to go ahead of him, she would know. What would she do?

She did not know. Would he really kill her? She decided Jain’n wouldn’t, but the spirit inhabiting him might.

She took Jain’n’s hand and let him lead her out of the tower, all the while, her mind working desperately to figure out how to salvage this situation.

***

The pair passed through the faerie trod and Jain’n stopped. He turned and whispered to the magical, glowing portal that lay between the three great stones. That was it then. He had changed the password. Sheyreiza was banished from Lonelywood. Now the only question was whether he was going to try and kill her. Carefully, keeping her hand out of his sight, she palmed a potion vial. She loved Jain’n, but the soul inhabiting Jain’n’s body at the moment was not his. She could not trust it.

They walked to the dock, Sheyreiza’s heart pounding faster and faster. As they came around the back of the cottage, Sheyreiza’s heart and breathing slowed. She knew this sign. It was the calm she experienced right before violence. What would he do?

Jain’n walked out onto the dock first and sat on its end. Sheyreiza stood, barely on the dock at all, still over land.

“Come, sit with me.” Said the spirit voice.

“I prefer to stand.” Sheyreiza replied.

Jain’n nodded. “Very well.” He turned and looked out on the lake. He made no move. Sheyreiza watched him closely. There was no sign he was going to spring on her. She looked around the village warily. She did not really believe Jain’n would ever enlist the aid of others to kill her, it was something he would do personally, but she could not be sure.

There was nothing. No movement, no footprints, no snow crunching, no nothing.

The spirit in Jain’n began to speak but Sheyreiza cut her off.

“You changed the password on the faerie trod, didn’t you?” She said.

Surprise showed on Jain’n’s face. “Yes. Yes we did.” The spirit answered. The spirits always spoke of themselves as “we” and “us.” The spirit voice sighed. “Let me explain something to you. There are four kinds of people in Lonelywood: intruders, guests, villagers and members of the war band. Each group is treated differently, and for each group there are different expectations. Different responsibilities. I will explain them to you.”

Sheyreiza rolled her eyes and cut the spirit voice off. “Skip the first three.”

The spirit ignored Sheyreiza. “First, there are intruders. Intruders into the wood get directed to leave at best, and arrows at worst. Second, there are guests. Guests get supplies, rest, soup and then they are expected to leave.” The spirit paused. “Third, there are the villagers. The villagers live here freely, living as they choose, so long as they do not endanger the wood. When danger comes, they need only obey my order to flee to safety while I and my warband handle the threat.” Jain’n turned to look at Shey now. “Finally, there is the warband. These are the few, the trusted few, who may travel the faerie trods and are entrusted with all of Lonelywood’s secrets. With such trust comes great responsibility. Members of my warband must obey my orders. I must know they obey my command. If I take them off of missions, I have to trust they will not go.” A look of sadness crossed Jain’n’s face. “You have disobeyed my orders. You went out on a mission while carrying an unborn child. You needlessly put that child at risk, and now a unicorn is dead. You cannot be trusted.” Jain’n took a deep breath and the spirit voice took on an officious tone. “You will remain here, in the village. You will be given a house. You will not go on missions. When the time comes, you will have the baby in the circle. If you do this, if you keep the baby safe and do not try to follow the warband again, then perhaps after the baby is born, you can be readmitted.”

Sheyreiza let loose a bitter, mocking laugh. “Because I endangered the baby you will now banish me from the one safe place in Lonelywood while I am pregnant, and admit me to safety only after the child is born? Your logic is as foul as your soul spirit.”

The spirit spoke through Jain’n again. “You will be safe here. If danger comes we will move you into the wood along with the rest of the villagers. You will be provided for. But for the moment, you cannot be trusted to follow orders, so you cannot be trusted with the use of the faerie trods. A unicorn is dead, girl, and you are to blame.”

“Your arrogance is to blame!” Sheyreiza growled. “Don’t you see that? For more than two years I have followed your orders. For more than two years I have followed you into battle and done what you have told me to do. I have also not done what you have told me not to do. Sirril is still alive because you told me not to kill him even though he posed a threat and advised slaying him. That dwarf who came insulted you right outside your own cottage, our cottage, is still alive because I followed your orders. I have followed your orders for more than two years and in all that time I have made one request of you, given you one command and you would not heed it.”

Jain’n’s face frowned. “You mean your son?”

“Of course I mean my son.” Sheyreiza spat. “I asked you one thing. I asked that when I go to find my son, you not come with me. You refused my request. You insist on coming.”

Jain’n nodded. “Yes, I do refuse not to go. I will not let you go face such danger alone.”

“Then how can you expect me to let you go face danger alone? How can you expect me to follow an order to stay in the tower when you go to face a dragon?” Sheyreiza’s voice was on the verge of breaking now.

The spirit voice was much calmer. “I am not pregnant. You have an unborn child to think of.”

“That is beside the point. You ask me to respect your orders, but you give no respect in return.”

Jain’n shook his head slowly. “Respect must be earned.”

“What have I been doing for two years?” Sheyreiza screamed. “Have I not fought beside you? Have I not bled beside you? Have I not done everything you ask of me? And what do I get? No command, no respect, nothing. In these woods, I am the consort of the Lord, but I get no respect for that. Not one of your people will take an order from me. Not one of your people shows me the respect they show Rilralia.”

“You have not earned it.” The spirit voice said flatly.

Sheyreiza sighed, her voice lowered. “Do you not see? Do you not see that as we stand here we play out the old story, the ancient myth. You take me as a consort, but not as an equal. While you give me your love, you give your respect and authority to another, Rilralia. You are the Corellon to my Araushnee, and Rilralia is our triune goddess.”

Jain’n’s face fell and he stepped towards Sheyreiza. “I do love you as an equal.”

“No.” Sheyreiza said flatly. “You love me like a possession, a trophy. Like a pet. You love me like Corellon loved Araushnee.”

“Corellon did love Araushnee. It was Araushnee who betrayed Corellon.” The spirit said harshly.

“True, but it was Corellon who drove her to it. His arrogance drove her to it. He would make her his consort, but not his queen. He would admit no equal.” Sheyreiza said softly.

Jain’n nodded. “Corellon does not admit any equal, but he had none. Corellon is not to blame for Araushnee’s treachery.”

Sheyreiza flared again. “There it is! That arrogance. That arrogance that drove Araushnee to her treachery. That drives me to disobey your orders. Do we have to play out the same story all over again? Can we not rectify the mistakes of the past?”

“It is you who are arrogant.” Jain’n said. “You cannot blame Corellon for Araushnee’s evil. She earned her curse. Just as your people did. We know, we fought your people, we cursed your people. It was us who defeated your people and drove you underground. Until you see through the lies you have been taught, you will never be able to understand.”

Sheyreiza started. Something Jain’n said triggered a thought. It hit her like a bolt of lighting, like the pain that had hit her when she nearly miscarried.

“I know why you spirits plague Jain’n now.” Sheyreiza said, her eyes wide. “You are cursed. It was you who started the crown wars. It was you who were judged by Corellon after my people were. It was you were banished from his light. You cannot reach Arvandor! You are dead, but your souls have nowhere to go, so now you plague the living like specters. You are lost souls.”

Jain’n just looked at her. “Yes, for some of us, that is true.”
Last edited by Mikayla on Thu Oct 28, 2004 11:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.
ALFA1-NWN1: Sheyreiza Valakahsa
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Post by Laurelin »

Wow. Just...wow.


I really hope you get to publish this.
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kiyoti
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Post by kiyoti »

im so glad you came to lonelywood Mik. i love your writing! especial the parts about Nylo :wink:
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Post by Killthorne »

:cry:

This is damn good Mikayla. Now waiting on #12.

:D

Edit:
( Oh yeah, because it's so well written and based solely on the affairs of TFN, and it's characters... Kudos on your roleplaying folks. And muse, thanks for HDMing the server... as I see nothing but creativity flow from the place. You have to admit... seeing this through the eyes of Mikayla is quite a special thing.)


~Killthorne~
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Post by Zakharra »

Nicely done. :D This one will go into my home files, definately.
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Post by Trebor »

Wow...an amazing read

I love reading up on my old peeps in Lonelywood...while I miss playing w/ you guys..these tales definitely help
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Re: Dark Flower Ch. 17 (previously The Flower Ch. 11)

Post by Mikayla »

Thirteen year old thread necromancy!!!


I have a reason though - this story, written 13 years ago (real life time) - is the origin of my current PC on WD, Shein'n. Like, literally her origin. Ok, well, not the sexy-time part between Jain'n and Sheyreiza, that is an earlier story, but this is the story of Shein'n's birth.
ALFA1-NWN1: Sheyreiza Valakahsa
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Re: Dark Flower Ch. 17 (previously The Flower Ch. 11)

Post by Swift »

Necromancy as solid as the story :D
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Re: Dark Flower Ch. 17 (previously The Flower Ch. 11)

Post by Mikayla »

Swift! Long time no chat. I can't remember ... are we terrible enemies or great friends? Both? Neither? All these old ALFAns I have not chatted with in forever. It's been like a month of nostalgia. :)
ALFA1-NWN1: Sheyreiza Valakahsa
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Re: Dark Flower Ch. 17 (previously The Flower Ch. 11)

Post by Swift »

Somewhere in between I think? The transition from NWN1 to 2 and your shift from dirty, dirty drow to something more respectable altered the dynamic I think ;)
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Re: Dark Flower Ch. 17 (previously The Flower Ch. 11)

Post by Ithildur »

What shift?!! Mik will always be a dirty, dirty Drow... :mrgreen:
Formerly: Aglaril Shaelara, Faerun's unlikeliest Bladesinger
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It’s not the critic who counts...The credit belongs to the man who actually is in the arena, who strives violently, who errs and comes up short again and again...who if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement, but who if he fails, fails while daring greatly.-T. Roosevelt
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