JAMI’ at-TIRMIDHI: The Book on Salat (Prayer): Hadith 313
Madan [bin Talhah] said:
“I met Abu Ad-Darda, and I asked him what I had asked Thawban, so he said: ‘Perform prostrations, for I heard Allah’s Messenger saying: 'No worshipper performs a prostration to Allah except that by it Allah will raise him a level, and erase a sin from him for it.”
JAMI’ at-TIRMIDHI: The Book on Salat (Prayer): Hadith 241/304
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean; And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!
Gabriel walks out of the Dionysus cabin, closing the door behind him. He holds the last bottle of wine he has in his hand as a peace offering. Looking over at the Hebe cabin, Gabe sighs and walks over to it. He knocks on the door to the Hebe cabin with his bandaged hand. Tears in his eyes, Gabriel waits for an answer.
pairing: jasico, prompt: one word: "life-raft". make of it what you will! :)
a raft, typically inflatable, for use in an emergency at sea.
“You’re stupid, you know.” Nico conjures enough energy to roll his eyes before flopping onto his stomach. The pain shoots up and down his spine. Renders him unable to add a bite to his bark. It hurts so badly, like a thousand shattered pieces of glass grinding against his bare flesh. He chokes on a breath, unable to finish saying, What about the prophe—and has no choice but to bury his face away in the sleeping bag.
Jason’s stench fills his nostrils, the light fleece pressed to his nose. Their earlier conversation flickers through the wrinkles of the other demigod’s sleeping bag.
Slowly and gently, he feels Jason’s fingers undo the bind Nico has over the sleeping bag. Jason splashes nectar down Nico’s back, soaking the white bandages and filling the tiny crevasses of scars.
It stings at first, but then starts to heal.
“Can’t give you too much at a time,” Jason murmurs. “You’ll get feverish.
Sean sits at his table for breakfast the morning after his fight with Julian. Both of his eyes have black circles and his lips is busted. He gingerly touched the injury on his lip and hissing. He minds his own business, hoping no one will inquire about the injuries.
The soil has already stained the soles of Gabriel’s bare feet a dark brown; his sandals lay discarded at the edge of the strawberry field. On his lap rests his open sketchbook, the beautifully drawn strawberries that rest on the page are barely illuminated by the setting sun. He hears a voice clear behind him and his muscles tense. “Who there?” he asks, his voice quivering.
Scott stands in the arena, a long knife clutched tightly in each hand. Sweat drips from his brow and covers his arms and face. He whirls around, attacking the dummies with what appears to be real rage. He notices a camper standing in front of him and straightens, a smile appearing on his face. “Hey,” he says.
Gabe sits in the cabin circle, leaning against a tree facing the Apollo cabin. In his lap is his sketchbook; he’s drawing out the cabin. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, looking for Parker or Kerri or Jacob or- well, really he’d probably run away from anyone. He’s so busy looking behind him that he doesn’t see the camper approaching from the front and inhales sharply when he does. “H-hey,” he stammers.
Nearing the end of dinner, Jack still has not eaten any of his food. He sits alone at his table, burning the edges of his broccoli with a lighter. He sees another camper come close in the periphery past the edge of his sunglasses. Without looking up from the now flaming vegetable, he says, “I can see you standing there.”
Scott sits on the beach, holding a photo in his hand. He’s staring at it with slightly misty eyes. He’s shirtless and in board shorts. His hair is still wet- he just got out of the lake. He turns his head when [you] approach and raises his hand in greeting. “Hey.”