The following totally fictitious writings of Faibhar are intended for the sole readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of extreme violence, torture and sex. Please do not read further if any of these subjects offend, or if you are not of legal age.

The following is for your sole enjoyment and your cooperation in not using the material in any other application without the express permission of the author is requested.

Thank you.

Faibhar.




                                     The Passions of Zeema

	Julius the Sweet wrapped his waistcoat tighter about him. The temperature sank as he and his men descended the rocky stairs into the bowels below the city. Not only could one catch cold in such dank surroundings, the place also stank. The sooner he could end this nasty business and get back up to where he belonged, the better. There was the matter of meeting the prisoner, however, and he wrapped his garb tighter as they continued lower into the basement chamber.

	At last, he could see them. Chained against the far wall stood two females. The tall one had raven locks, the stumpy one blond tresses. Crossing the fire-lit prison chamber with his party, flickering sconces revealed the two. They ignored his arrival and spoke in low tones with each other.

	"...Lover..."

	"No, you luverrr."

	"Nooo, YOU Luhver!"

	"YOU Luhhhhve!"

	"YOU Luv!!!"
	
	"You...uhm, Sweetie-pie?"

	Julius cleared his throat and said, "Sorry to interrupt,ladies,but I am Julius the Sweet." He noted that he now commanded the attention of both and that each wore ancient costumes like some Grecian warriors. That and the short blonde had harpsichord legs as piano legs had yet to be invented. "B-man? What is this "Psychomachia" reading these two are accused of, anyway?" He looked to the stout cleric on his right.

	"Psychomachia, your Excellency, is a published book of poems by a 16th century Spanish author that purports to write about females relinquishing their traditional roles in favor of more male oriented pursuits all supposedly in search of a greater good. The two before you have donned the costumes of ancient warriors as a result of their own aims and this poetry. The book may be popular, sire, but has yet to make the Time's Best Seller List."

	Julius mused as he considered the two. There was yet to be a New York, much less a newspaper with some list of best selling books, but then, if the Church wanted its people to think that they could see into the future, so be it. The dark-haired one of the two looked the smartest. She must be the reader. He liked smart women. That, and her breast-plate wasn't bad looking, either. He turned his attention to her side-kick. "You must be the one they call the Scribe? And your tall friend here is what? Some kind of Warrior Princess?"

	"My name is Galluble. And her's is Zeema. Yeah, I write and she kicks butt."

	"Take care, young friend," Zeema sparkled her blue eyes, "we are prisoners here and we know not what this oaf's intentions are."

	"But...!"

	"Shhh,Luv. Just do as I say."

	"Your tall friend is quite correct, Galluble. You are indeed prisoners. MY prisoners, and it is for me to decide your fates. Understood?"

	The impertinent blonde with the thick gams glared back at Julius but held her tongue.

	"And I charge you both with Guilt. Abbot? You are familiar with ancient executions in, say, Rome?"

	"Yes, your Majesty. Very familiar."

	"Then I sentence the tall 'warrioress' here to her final passion. The scribe can write it all down. Get her some parchment and quills. Keep her wrists in chains-she'll still be able to write even whilst cuffed."

	Galluble frantically twisted her head in search of some carpet to munch, but alas the floor of their dungeon was cold stone. Alongside of her, Zeema stoically stood in chains. She too glared back at the men as if to taunt them with the knowledge that it was now too late to stop the rising tide of Psychomachia. Galluble could not help but believe that sisters everywhere would be known as Psychomachianists. Or something.


                                    To Be Continued
