Written By Willow
Feb. 13, 2019, 1:30 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
This southern heat is barbaric. I despise how muggy it is.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 13, 2019, 12:12 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Oh no.
No no no.
NO.
Ianthe is -crawling-.
What the fuck I thought I had more time to baby proof shit.
NO. NO NO NO.
Quick, someone tell me how much it costs to raise everything in my shop by two feet. Higher counters! Tables!
-shit- I have -forges- and -hammers- within grabbing distance...!
FUCK.
SLOW DOWN, BABY. You're worse than your namesake!
No no no.
NO.
Ianthe is -crawling-.
What the fuck I thought I had more time to baby proof shit.
NO. NO NO NO.
Quick, someone tell me how much it costs to raise everything in my shop by two feet. Higher counters! Tables!
-shit- I have -forges- and -hammers- within grabbing distance...!
FUCK.
SLOW DOWN, BABY. You're worse than your namesake!
Written By Mirari
Feb. 12, 2019, 10:07 p.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
I feel as if I have just woken from a long dream... And things are slightly out of place...
Written By Mia
Feb. 12, 2019, 9:25 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
I've been asked by someone I care for quite deeply to provide assistance in finding her a partner, but in truth, I have never been asked to play the role of matchmaker where love might actually be the determining factor as opposed to a peripheral consideration. On the contrary, I am far more accustomed to working within the confines of politics, with needs dictated by the respective Houses involved and things like dowries and trade pacts to consider.
How in the world do people actually manage this?
How in the world do people actually manage this?
Written By Marian
Feb. 12, 2019, 8:26 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Fergus
Grief.
My washed out tears do not fall.
That lump in my throat strangles.
My marbled skin is cold like ice.
My deepest scars do not show.
I can no longer feel our first kiss.
You are gone.
Grief.
Your chest sits in the corner with the past.
Even your sword has passed to another.
Your clothes that have lost your scent.
Our bed no longer dips from your weight.
They don't know your voice.
Your portrait is a stranger.
Grief.
Everyone else moves on to the next.
The bans are read for new loves.
The cake tastes stale with broken promises.
Their happiness mocks me with mirrored lies.
Pity you didn't get to see what happened next.
They have forgotten.
Grief.
Moving on feels like a dagger in my heart.
My pillow no longer feels wet in the morning.
My eyes don't shine against the starry sky.
Possibilities become steel chains that bind.
False sympathy is an insult that digs softly.
Nothing is more than enough.
Grief.
Don't blame him for leaving.
Don't flinch when they look with his eyes.
Smile when they ask how you're doing.
Good morning is not an invitation to cry.
Don't scratch at your bleeding heart.
Apologies are forsaken.
Grief.
You will never be the same.
Happiness is a thorny rose.
You will wish to trade places.
This wasn't how the story goes.
You will review every single mistake.
No one takes that blame.
My washed out tears do not fall.
That lump in my throat strangles.
My marbled skin is cold like ice.
My deepest scars do not show.
I can no longer feel our first kiss.
You are gone.
Grief.
Your chest sits in the corner with the past.
Even your sword has passed to another.
Your clothes that have lost your scent.
Our bed no longer dips from your weight.
They don't know your voice.
Your portrait is a stranger.
Grief.
Everyone else moves on to the next.
The bans are read for new loves.
The cake tastes stale with broken promises.
Their happiness mocks me with mirrored lies.
Pity you didn't get to see what happened next.
They have forgotten.
Grief.
Moving on feels like a dagger in my heart.
My pillow no longer feels wet in the morning.
My eyes don't shine against the starry sky.
Possibilities become steel chains that bind.
False sympathy is an insult that digs softly.
Nothing is more than enough.
Grief.
Don't blame him for leaving.
Don't flinch when they look with his eyes.
Smile when they ask how you're doing.
Good morning is not an invitation to cry.
Don't scratch at your bleeding heart.
Apologies are forsaken.
Grief.
You will never be the same.
Happiness is a thorny rose.
You will wish to trade places.
This wasn't how the story goes.
You will review every single mistake.
No one takes that blame.
Written By Miranda
Feb. 12, 2019, 7:59 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Skye
There is nothing quite like a sea shanty to make a girl smile...
So having a celebration dinner aboard the Victorious, where we all sang and participated in making up verses on the spot?
Loved it.
"We all sang songs
Using words meritorious
Because we were sailing
On a ship called Victorious!"
This was a great idea, Baroness Blackshore!
So having a celebration dinner aboard the Victorious, where we all sang and participated in making up verses on the spot?
Loved it.
"We all sang songs
Using words meritorious
Because we were sailing
On a ship called Victorious!"
This was a great idea, Baroness Blackshore!
Written By Peri
Feb. 12, 2019, 7:46 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
When I am in the archives for a long time, I have to get up and walk around. I can't stand holding so still for so long. Yesterday I wandered past the poetry shelf and found a book so compelling that I couldn't budge myself until I had read the whole thing. The book is filed under Eurisi Poetry in the Scholars' archives. It is called "Allanruar Arirh, The Soul of a River". The poems are by Muhah Saaec a silk merchant who traveled the world and who sent letters faithfully to his love Gaston Jejun, Baron of Glaintin. I cried at the end. I will not say why into the whites because I do not want to spoil the story.
My research yesterday was lackluster and fruitless. I didn't find what I was looking for. I almost wasted a an entire day. I am so grateful to Brother Branan, whoever you are, for translating this.
My research yesterday was lackluster and fruitless. I didn't find what I was looking for. I almost wasted a an entire day. I am so grateful to Brother Branan, whoever you are, for translating this.
Written By Alaric
Feb. 12, 2019, 6:11 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Tikva
I'm still waiting for an epic verse about a scaffold.
Written By Monique
Feb. 12, 2019, 5:57 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Would you like to participate in a collaborative story with the infamous Minx of the Marches? It's a very particular project, near and dear to my heart. Not for those with delicate sensitivities, but those with brave constitution ought to send a messenger with their interest!
Some familiar knowledge of at least one of the Gods of the Pantheon is a must with this particular collaboration!
Compensation offered, and of course, a copy of the finished work upon completion.
Secrecy is essential until publication.
Some familiar knowledge of at least one of the Gods of the Pantheon is a must with this particular collaboration!
Compensation offered, and of course, a copy of the finished work upon completion.
Secrecy is essential until publication.
Written By Miranda
Feb. 12, 2019, 1:36 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Grief.
It is a vicious enemy.
It lingers well beyond its time and does not let up.
It sneaks up on you when you think you've dealt with it, rearing its ugly head to overwhelm you.
People try to help. "Don't dwell on it," they say. "Don't let it change you," they say. "This isn't like you."
No. It's not.
It's grief.
It grips at you with its claws and doesn't let go.
It hides in shadows, waiting until you least expect it and then it lunges at you, tearing your sanity from you.
It rips your heart open and consumes your thoughts.
I should have... we could have... why didn't I...
The anger fades to incredible sadness, of things you can no longer do.
I miss his voice, his laughter, the annoying way he was always right.
I miss the way his arms felt around me and the gentleness he'd show when I was hurting.
I miss talking about everything. I miss fighting with him.
I miss the passion. I miss his presence. I miss the arrogance.
I miss him. I miss HIM. I. Miss. Him.
It eats at me, this grief, and makes me feel weak.
There is no comfort. Just memories that make me smile and wistful, wishing for more, even the parts I could have done without.
There is no room for others to offer consolations and criticisms.
There are days when I doubt he is gone. And there are days when it is so obvious he is that the pain is worse than a knife being twisted into a wound.
Grief. It is the bane of my existence.
Grief - it is my personal monster to face.
It is a vicious enemy.
It lingers well beyond its time and does not let up.
It sneaks up on you when you think you've dealt with it, rearing its ugly head to overwhelm you.
People try to help. "Don't dwell on it," they say. "Don't let it change you," they say. "This isn't like you."
No. It's not.
It's grief.
It grips at you with its claws and doesn't let go.
It hides in shadows, waiting until you least expect it and then it lunges at you, tearing your sanity from you.
It rips your heart open and consumes your thoughts.
I should have... we could have... why didn't I...
The anger fades to incredible sadness, of things you can no longer do.
I miss his voice, his laughter, the annoying way he was always right.
I miss the way his arms felt around me and the gentleness he'd show when I was hurting.
I miss talking about everything. I miss fighting with him.
I miss the passion. I miss his presence. I miss the arrogance.
I miss him. I miss HIM. I. Miss. Him.
It eats at me, this grief, and makes me feel weak.
There is no comfort. Just memories that make me smile and wistful, wishing for more, even the parts I could have done without.
There is no room for others to offer consolations and criticisms.
There are days when I doubt he is gone. And there are days when it is so obvious he is that the pain is worse than a knife being twisted into a wound.
Grief. It is the bane of my existence.
Grief - it is my personal monster to face.
Written By Rysen
Feb. 12, 2019, 1:09 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
I have arrived in Arx, and begun to explore the city, though I am feeling very out of place, and sick at heart for the wooded vales of my home. I have sent a message to the Nightingale of the Bard’s College in order to learn more about the organization – presumptuous, perhaps, considering I am not a trained performer, and yet I have absolute faith in the peerless verse of my muse. Hopefully it will be an avenue to learn more about the city, its history, and the intriguing inhabitants I have glimpsed in passing, dressed beyond my wildest fancy, and often in possession of a trailing retinue that, back home, would have set the village to the highest degree of excitement. My other interests, of course, are not far from my mind, and where better than the Bard’s College to find the first steps toward uncovering those secrets? Upon leaving, my brother mentioned that Lady Fianna frequented the city. I hope to contact her soon in the hopes that she might be able to help me find suitable work, and, perhaps, learn how to dress and act so as not to embarrass myself in this new environment, so different from the military camps and small country inns with which I am familiar.
Written By Vittorio
Feb. 12, 2019, 11:55 a.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Cristoph
I recently attended the midnight masquerade the Duke attended, and I must say he did a remarkable job of organizing it. I look forward to any future masquerades the Duke has planned.
Written By Tikva
Feb. 12, 2019, 11:38 a.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
A rhyme of mold need not be undersold,
For once we've grown old and our story's been told,
And scratchy-voiced, scold, over the winter's cold,
our blankets warm-rolled in our bright-hearthed stronghold,
no regrets for choices bold over hoarding our gold;
just scrape it off the fold and dry bread will uphold
an adventurer's toehold on the wild paths untold.
For once we've grown old and our story's been told,
And scratchy-voiced, scold, over the winter's cold,
our blankets warm-rolled in our bright-hearthed stronghold,
no regrets for choices bold over hoarding our gold;
just scrape it off the fold and dry bread will uphold
an adventurer's toehold on the wild paths untold.
Written By Bliss
Feb. 12, 2019, 9:43 a.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Arik
Champions absolutely should not be representing House honor in the same way that a Sword does, and we do not fight the kinds of duels that end or prevent wars. Our fight is for personal honor of individuals.
Written By Tabitha
Feb. 12, 2019, 5:50 a.m.(7/21/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Sabella
I think one of the worst things about my reclusiveness is that I don't get to spend as much time as I'd like with Princess Sabella. She's just the best patron, and one of the best people I know. Not only for her love of the arts, and for her constant support, but because she's unfailingly kind while also being willing to stand by her principles and respectfully speak up in accordance with them.
Written By Tabitha
Feb. 12, 2019, 5:14 a.m.(7/21/1010 AR)
Hello, white journal. I don't visit you very often. All of my secret thoughts are held within your darker twin. Meanwhile, you get all the talk of kittens and puppies and flowers, and anguished declarations of my lack of artistic inspiration (as though that's a big deal when there's so much turmoil and suffering beyond the walls of Whitehawk manor).
On a lighter note, Kenna got married and migrated north. I'm so happy that she made a good match, but I can't deny I'll miss our moments of shouting at each other down the halls and through our bedroom doors. I'm too mousey to raise my voice most of the time, but it's fine with Kenna, I can really yell.
Maybe I'll rope Evonleigh into shouting duties. She's got good vocal projection, being an actress. Or Sapphira, but I don't want her to hurt her voice. Or perhaps Silas, or Bedivere. They must have some practice at shouting at the troops. Jyri's good at shouting over the bark of dogs, so there's another possibility. Elora, Delilah, Farrah, Mina or Gaius... probably not. Maybe they could send me some messages in capital letters.
Or I could just go outside more. No shouting needed then.
On a lighter note, Kenna got married and migrated north. I'm so happy that she made a good match, but I can't deny I'll miss our moments of shouting at each other down the halls and through our bedroom doors. I'm too mousey to raise my voice most of the time, but it's fine with Kenna, I can really yell.
Maybe I'll rope Evonleigh into shouting duties. She's got good vocal projection, being an actress. Or Sapphira, but I don't want her to hurt her voice. Or perhaps Silas, or Bedivere. They must have some practice at shouting at the troops. Jyri's good at shouting over the bark of dogs, so there's another possibility. Elora, Delilah, Farrah, Mina or Gaius... probably not. Maybe they could send me some messages in capital letters.
Or I could just go outside more. No shouting needed then.
Written By Preston
Feb. 12, 2019, 4:01 a.m.(7/21/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Umbroise
The Lady Umbroise writes eloquently about why a duel is ill fitting - I cannot fault her for I am not a noble, I have never held and will never hold land, I do not understand temporal politics. Politics in general is quite the elusive beast. Though I would have thought that this is exactly why the noble houses have House Swords, to decide on matters of such great import, to attempt a resolution that risks only the blood of two rather than the lives of thousands. I would have thought Gloria would see honour in that, in attempting to avoid the suffering of innocents. Yet. Talks continue, and that is another path to the same end. In mediation, in balance, we can find resolution. And of course we will all pray that some route can be found, but accept that if it does not, these matters are for the nobility to resolve as they see best.
That said, if I may gently say that the matter of a dead Seraph is a matter, to my mind, for the Faith to resolve. We have two border conflicts at least now where noble houses in whole or in part claim the death of Godsworn as their reason. While I appreciate and admire the zeal and faithfulness it shows, it risks placing the Faith within the politics of houses, and that is something best avoided. When we swear our oaths, we place aside our family, our rights to property and title, our rights to inheritance of the same. All that we are is the Faith's - and it is not for anyone to pull us, in life or in death, back from that in anything but the most extenuating of circumstance.
That said, if I may gently say that the matter of a dead Seraph is a matter, to my mind, for the Faith to resolve. We have two border conflicts at least now where noble houses in whole or in part claim the death of Godsworn as their reason. While I appreciate and admire the zeal and faithfulness it shows, it risks placing the Faith within the politics of houses, and that is something best avoided. When we swear our oaths, we place aside our family, our rights to property and title, our rights to inheritance of the same. All that we are is the Faith's - and it is not for anyone to pull us, in life or in death, back from that in anything but the most extenuating of circumstance.
Written By Arik
Feb. 12, 2019, 1:11 a.m.(7/21/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Umbroise
If the duel is between House Swords than indeed it is sufficient to end hostilities. It is our purpose as House Swords to fight for our House, our people, and in the place of our armies when we are called upon. It is also completely appropriate for the loser of the duel to pay reparations or accept an understanding as they have lost on the field of battle as surely as if their armies have been defeated. It is not always the time and place for one Sword to decide the fate of House politics but it certainly is acceptable as an option.
Should a Champions duel decide it? I would say no but I would be interested what Master Caspian might say on the matter.
Should a Champions duel decide it? I would say no but I would be interested what Master Caspian might say on the matter.
Written By Alaric
Feb. 12, 2019, 12:43 a.m.(7/21/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Selene
What, no line about mold?
Written By Ysbail
Feb. 11, 2019, 10:24 p.m.(7/21/1010 AR)
Ambition becomes only ash and cinder.
In the end, what was the point of all the effort if it only ended once more in failure?
In the end, what was the point of all the effort if it only ended once more in failure?
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.