Written By Bethany
Feb. 2, 2017, 12:59 p.m.(10/28/1005 AR)
No, Scholar I am not done yet. I just had no desire to have that moment of flailing panic to be permanently documented in the Journals.
(I am *not* getting a new dress for this - the one that Mistress Aurora made last summer will suit me just fine!)
Damnation!
(I am *not* getting a new dress for this - the one that Mistress Aurora made last summer will suit me just fine!)
Damnation!
Written By Bethany
Feb. 2, 2017, 12:44 p.m.(10/28/1005 AR)
By the scantified scrot--
No, no. No cursing. How did I not know that my own reception was just around the corner? See. This is what happens when I mope for too long.
No, no. No cursing. How did I not know that my own reception was just around the corner? See. This is what happens when I mope for too long.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 29, 2017, 12:32 a.m.(10/15/1005 AR)
After Serafine took back her sword, we stepped inside the keep. Aslaug remained behind. Serafine took point, and I a step behind. Quill drawn. There was the snap of a trap, narrowly avoided. Another curse. The stench was terrible. Like, decay – like sweet meat gone to rot – and there were long tables. Like tables at festivals and feasts. There were lumps chained to those tables. Three – or four. One was moving. Princess-Knight-Princess approached, sword drawn.
The lump moved again. It yelled. It was Merek. The lumps were men.
They were stripped of skin and flesh. After we freed Merek and regrouped, we started our explorations again. A peer into one room, a hallway. Too dark. Another set of double doors that we were all drawn to. Merek and Serafine took a door – I was ducked behind the Princess-Knight-Princess. They each pulled. Merek’s door didn’t budge. Serafine broke the door off the hinges. Push, not pull. Merek took a step into the next room. Quite gracefully, as if he was dancing with an unseen partner. He stepped in--
--and someone was swinging at Merek. Someone with an axe attached to a pole. The noise was not pleasant. It rattled. Serafine was in there a moment after, and I ducked behind the safe half of the door. I didn’t see what happened next, but I heard the clatter of steel to steel. An inhuman sounding yell. Silence followed. Serafine dispatched the attacker and I stepped into the room. That only created enough of a racket to cause an ambush. Four on either side, with all of us in the middle. I think Merek shouted, I think. It prompted all of us to go in his direction. Honestly, it snapped me out of my terror –
And all I did was follow them in.
--I don’t wish to recount all the blood. It made me nauseous. Merek and Serafine did all they needed to do to ensure our continued safety.
I ran. I climbed over some debris. I ran some more until I wound up in an empty throne room.
There were books. I gathered them up.
They didn’t provide nearly enough answers. It will require further study.
The lump moved again. It yelled. It was Merek. The lumps were men.
They were stripped of skin and flesh. After we freed Merek and regrouped, we started our explorations again. A peer into one room, a hallway. Too dark. Another set of double doors that we were all drawn to. Merek and Serafine took a door – I was ducked behind the Princess-Knight-Princess. They each pulled. Merek’s door didn’t budge. Serafine broke the door off the hinges. Push, not pull. Merek took a step into the next room. Quite gracefully, as if he was dancing with an unseen partner. He stepped in--
--and someone was swinging at Merek. Someone with an axe attached to a pole. The noise was not pleasant. It rattled. Serafine was in there a moment after, and I ducked behind the safe half of the door. I didn’t see what happened next, but I heard the clatter of steel to steel. An inhuman sounding yell. Silence followed. Serafine dispatched the attacker and I stepped into the room. That only created enough of a racket to cause an ambush. Four on either side, with all of us in the middle. I think Merek shouted, I think. It prompted all of us to go in his direction. Honestly, it snapped me out of my terror –
And all I did was follow them in.
--I don’t wish to recount all the blood. It made me nauseous. Merek and Serafine did all they needed to do to ensure our continued safety.
I ran. I climbed over some debris. I ran some more until I wound up in an empty throne room.
There were books. I gathered them up.
They didn’t provide nearly enough answers. It will require further study.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 29, 2017, 12:31 a.m.(10/15/1005 AR)
[ From the field notebook of B. Mercier - would-be Scholar, amateur Apothecary, and semi-professional sidekick:]
If something happens, PKP, make sure you bring this to the Scholars. And the letters for J.
Otherwise, I will.
The trip to the ruins was long, cold, and damp. I was extremely grateful for the cloak of silver fox fur and it kept me cuddly. I just needed to forget that I was wearing a cuddly animal and I thanked Petrichor profusely for its sacrifice. But, the company was excellent. it was good to be out of the city with Princess-Knight-Princess Serafine and Says Little Aslaug and Has-No-Nickname Merek. The food - ah, not so much. I learned what hard tack was and had some for the first time. Dry molar breakers, but they were sufficient when paired with dried meat and tea. Yes, I brought tea. I also brought iced honey-cakes. But, those didn't last but the day.
The camp was abandoned. The fire was cold in the grate. The tracks - per Says Little - were old. The papers that were scattered about had gone to mold and moss and Princess-Knight and I knew there would be nothing of use to tell us what had happened to the scouting party. We walked through the camp - slogged, really, and the mud was practically up to my ankles - toward the ruins. A crumbling forte maison that was taken over by nature. Between two Explorers, me. I have never felt more safe in my entire life. Also, I have never felt more frightened. Thrilling combination of emotions, to be sure.
Against the tower was a lean-to, covered with branches and leaves as a makeshift shelter. Shadowy. Princess-Knight-Princess did us all a great favor by peering into it - and there was a man. A former porter of the lost party. Or, the body of a man with whatever was left of his mind. Utterly mad. We fed him, watered him, and asked him questions -- he led us toward the ruins and I will admit that I was the most curious to follow. Merek remained outside as a set of eyes. And Princess-Knight-Princess, I, and Says Little entered the main entry. A long - wide tunnel - with those narrow slats set high in the walls. Arrowslits, I think. Or murder windows.
Then - it all went to hell.
Reginald shuttered the iron gate. It clashed down and cracked on impact. There was black stuff - oil, I think. Something ignited and caught fire. Something burned. The way out was limited to us until the fire was put out. Reginald was jabbering aught about bringing guests - and there we were - and then. The swinging log. I do not recall if this was before or after the fire. All I recall was that my very brief life flashed before me and that Says Little-Saves Big pushed me out of the way. I mean, being smashed could have been quick, right?
I cursed rhymes. I'll admit it. A terrible influence from a poet, perhaps, and it did much to soothe my nerves. However, Princess-Knight-Princess had enough - we all did - at this point. Reginald was dancing around in the courtyard until Serafine threw her blade at his head.
--It made a sound like cutting open a ripe melon.
If something happens, PKP, make sure you bring this to the Scholars. And the letters for J.
Otherwise, I will.
The trip to the ruins was long, cold, and damp. I was extremely grateful for the cloak of silver fox fur and it kept me cuddly. I just needed to forget that I was wearing a cuddly animal and I thanked Petrichor profusely for its sacrifice. But, the company was excellent. it was good to be out of the city with Princess-Knight-Princess Serafine and Says Little Aslaug and Has-No-Nickname Merek. The food - ah, not so much. I learned what hard tack was and had some for the first time. Dry molar breakers, but they were sufficient when paired with dried meat and tea. Yes, I brought tea. I also brought iced honey-cakes. But, those didn't last but the day.
The camp was abandoned. The fire was cold in the grate. The tracks - per Says Little - were old. The papers that were scattered about had gone to mold and moss and Princess-Knight and I knew there would be nothing of use to tell us what had happened to the scouting party. We walked through the camp - slogged, really, and the mud was practically up to my ankles - toward the ruins. A crumbling forte maison that was taken over by nature. Between two Explorers, me. I have never felt more safe in my entire life. Also, I have never felt more frightened. Thrilling combination of emotions, to be sure.
Against the tower was a lean-to, covered with branches and leaves as a makeshift shelter. Shadowy. Princess-Knight-Princess did us all a great favor by peering into it - and there was a man. A former porter of the lost party. Or, the body of a man with whatever was left of his mind. Utterly mad. We fed him, watered him, and asked him questions -- he led us toward the ruins and I will admit that I was the most curious to follow. Merek remained outside as a set of eyes. And Princess-Knight-Princess, I, and Says Little entered the main entry. A long - wide tunnel - with those narrow slats set high in the walls. Arrowslits, I think. Or murder windows.
Then - it all went to hell.
Reginald shuttered the iron gate. It clashed down and cracked on impact. There was black stuff - oil, I think. Something ignited and caught fire. Something burned. The way out was limited to us until the fire was put out. Reginald was jabbering aught about bringing guests - and there we were - and then. The swinging log. I do not recall if this was before or after the fire. All I recall was that my very brief life flashed before me and that Says Little-Saves Big pushed me out of the way. I mean, being smashed could have been quick, right?
I cursed rhymes. I'll admit it. A terrible influence from a poet, perhaps, and it did much to soothe my nerves. However, Princess-Knight-Princess had enough - we all did - at this point. Reginald was dancing around in the courtyard until Serafine threw her blade at his head.
--It made a sound like cutting open a ripe melon.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 28, 2017, 1:06 p.m.(10/13/1005 AR)
Change comes from within.
Change occurs when you try to be what you are versus what you are not.
Change does not take place through a coercive attempt by the individual or by another person to change them, but it does take place if one takes the time and effort to be what they are -- to be fully invested in their current positions. By rejecting the role, we make meaningful and orderly change possible.
Change occurs when you try to be what you are versus what you are not.
Change does not take place through a coercive attempt by the individual or by another person to change them, but it does take place if one takes the time and effort to be what they are -- to be fully invested in their current positions. By rejecting the role, we make meaningful and orderly change possible.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 25, 2017, 4 p.m.(10/5/1005 AR)
Now that I have started to dabble in other botanical studies completely unrelated to tea and perfume --
I need to start a better organizational system in the shop.
Or someone is going to get terribly ill.
I need to start a better organizational system in the shop.
Or someone is going to get terribly ill.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 24, 2017, 6:25 a.m.(10/1/1005 AR)
[ I considered secreting this away in the Black Reflections. But, in good faith, I could not. ]
Fidelity - the element of consistency.
The basis for reliable thought, reason, morals, ethics, trust and loyalty. It is most valuable when applied to most worthy ideas, deeds, or principles. Fidelity is neither fickleness -an arbitrary and unwarranted change-nor obstinacy-unfounded persistence or stubbornness. It is a consistency of thought, reason, morality, and loyalty that persists until some more profound truth, greater good, or more worthy affiliation becomes clear.
I have always told you that I hold myself by a certain set of standards for myself. As such, to be impeccable with my word. Trustworthiness is fidelity to my word. I strive to be trustworthy. Another - abstain from hypocrisy. Align actions to my words. Be consistent. Be true to those who matter most. Seek truth. Seek insight. Know and learn.
I am not trustworthy - I am hypocritical - I am inconsistent - I am cruel to those that matter the most.
(I could list those ways.)
Consistency; it is a choice. To steal from philosophers, I would not be free in my fidelity-it would be imposed upon me by this process. As such, my fidelity would not be morally right (or wrong) and I would not be worthy of praise for my fidelity. For my fidelity to be commendable, it would have to be something that I freely chose as a matter of will.
I choose: to love you - without restraint, to claim you - without hesitation. I chose you as person based on a free and rational choice rather than being locked into fidelity by a stew of passion and emotion. This seems rather cold and calculating-after all, love is supposed to be something one falls into rather than something that one chooses.
I also choose: to love others. To love is to become vulnerable - to love is to open your heart to possibility - willingly; unwillingly. Little did I know that when I opened my heart to you, there would be room enough for others - there, in my heart, is where there is no one that is as important as you are. At the start of every day, when your eyes open - you will see me. At day's end - I will be there.
How else to ally your fears, soothe your jealousy -- than this?
B. Mercier.
Fidelity - the element of consistency.
The basis for reliable thought, reason, morals, ethics, trust and loyalty. It is most valuable when applied to most worthy ideas, deeds, or principles. Fidelity is neither fickleness -an arbitrary and unwarranted change-nor obstinacy-unfounded persistence or stubbornness. It is a consistency of thought, reason, morality, and loyalty that persists until some more profound truth, greater good, or more worthy affiliation becomes clear.
I have always told you that I hold myself by a certain set of standards for myself. As such, to be impeccable with my word. Trustworthiness is fidelity to my word. I strive to be trustworthy. Another - abstain from hypocrisy. Align actions to my words. Be consistent. Be true to those who matter most. Seek truth. Seek insight. Know and learn.
I am not trustworthy - I am hypocritical - I am inconsistent - I am cruel to those that matter the most.
(I could list those ways.)
Consistency; it is a choice. To steal from philosophers, I would not be free in my fidelity-it would be imposed upon me by this process. As such, my fidelity would not be morally right (or wrong) and I would not be worthy of praise for my fidelity. For my fidelity to be commendable, it would have to be something that I freely chose as a matter of will.
I choose: to love you - without restraint, to claim you - without hesitation. I chose you as person based on a free and rational choice rather than being locked into fidelity by a stew of passion and emotion. This seems rather cold and calculating-after all, love is supposed to be something one falls into rather than something that one chooses.
I also choose: to love others. To love is to become vulnerable - to love is to open your heart to possibility - willingly; unwillingly. Little did I know that when I opened my heart to you, there would be room enough for others - there, in my heart, is where there is no one that is as important as you are. At the start of every day, when your eyes open - you will see me. At day's end - I will be there.
How else to ally your fears, soothe your jealousy -- than this?
B. Mercier.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 22, 2017, 9:59 a.m.(9/23/1005 AR)
[ From the desk of B. Mercier: ]
It is important to say what hope is not: it is not the belief that everything was, is or will be fine. The evidence is all around us - suffering and pending destruction. The hope I am interested in is founded in the premises that we don’t know what will happen and that in the spaciousness of uncertainty is room to act. Thinking critically without hope might be considered cynicism; hope without such thought is naivety -
( Pardon, scholars, I omitted the next part. I started to describe the nature, limits, and the study of hope before comparing and contrasting it against theological values. Too dry, too lengthy. )
We are able to overcome hardship with hope. Hope provides us the with faith, with courage, with motivation and the strength to take action against misery and despair caused by misfortune.
it is not wishful thinking, nor does it magically set all to rights. It's an emotion, a mindset.
We hope on, and we hope ever.
It is important to say what hope is not: it is not the belief that everything was, is or will be fine. The evidence is all around us - suffering and pending destruction. The hope I am interested in is founded in the premises that we don’t know what will happen and that in the spaciousness of uncertainty is room to act. Thinking critically without hope might be considered cynicism; hope without such thought is naivety -
( Pardon, scholars, I omitted the next part. I started to describe the nature, limits, and the study of hope before comparing and contrasting it against theological values. Too dry, too lengthy. )
We are able to overcome hardship with hope. Hope provides us the with faith, with courage, with motivation and the strength to take action against misery and despair caused by misfortune.
it is not wishful thinking, nor does it magically set all to rights. It's an emotion, a mindset.
We hope on, and we hope ever.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 20, 2017, 10:07 a.m.(9/17/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Jeremiah
That look - yes - that paused look where you forgot to blink, to breathe, to move.
Another word to reply and there was movement again, motion, and the drink and the conversation and it all resolved around us. Endings and Beginnings. Maybe I should --
(cypress and yew. myrtle and rosemary. tarragon and ivy.)
The same and different.
Another word to reply and there was movement again, motion, and the drink and the conversation and it all resolved around us. Endings and Beginnings. Maybe I should --
(cypress and yew. myrtle and rosemary. tarragon and ivy.)
The same and different.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 20, 2017, 9:52 a.m.(9/17/1005 AR)
[ From the tea-shop of B. Mercier, proprietor: ]
You would expect the city to a look a little differently after -
- it doesn't.
(Gods and Spirits - the hangover.)
Not all changes can be seen. Felt? Certainly. That is hope.
You would expect the city to a look a little differently after -
- it doesn't.
(Gods and Spirits - the hangover.)
Not all changes can be seen. Felt? Certainly. That is hope.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 19, 2017, 8 p.m.(9/15/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Magden
Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver. The other sun marigold.
One is silver. The other sun marigold.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 18, 2017, 4:53 p.m.(9/12/1005 AR)
Oh, Joscelin -
Congratulations. And, a party -
( This is by no means an encouragement, Silas. Lazarus. If you do I will singe off my eyebrows in an unfortunate 'alchemy accident' - I swear. The manor will smell like burnt hair for weeks. )
Congratulations. And, a party -
( This is by no means an encouragement, Silas. Lazarus. If you do I will singe off my eyebrows in an unfortunate 'alchemy accident' - I swear. The manor will smell like burnt hair for weeks. )
Written By Bethany
Jan. 18, 2017, 3:43 p.m.(9/12/1005 AR)
An observation I made today. When you ask them the question: 'what do you think of __" How an expression changes - the features shift - the body language softens and the eyes go distant. Perhaps wistful. Perhaps pensive. When someone speaks about someone that they find interesting. Someone they like.
There is overwhelming poetry in that.
Try it. You'll see.
There is overwhelming poetry in that.
Try it. You'll see.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 18, 2017, 1:37 p.m.(9/12/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Ira
Torian reputation, alchemist's flare -
Questionable sanity, very strange hair.
Questionable sanity, very strange hair.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 18, 2017, 1:33 p.m.(9/12/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Cicero
A skilled dancer knowing,
The ways of business and silk flowing.
The ways of business and silk flowing.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 18, 2017, 1:26 p.m.(9/12/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Branan
Deft like bees, as skilled and busy,
No perfect rhyme, but still witty.
No perfect rhyme, but still witty.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 18, 2017, 1:21 p.m.(9/12/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Samantha
Deepwood serenity, Old Oak cider.
Constantly present, still beside her.
Constantly present, still beside her.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 17, 2017, 3:30 p.m.(9/9/1005 AR)
Today it seems that a single line has more profound influence on public opinion than the third under the Laws of Limerance. Perhaps, we need to include this "--This is the fidelity between men and the gods." Today, I consider this addition to envelops and accepts those new - once lost - those new gods, or spirits, or whatever you wish to call them -- they seek blood. They need blood-magic. Volunteers offered themselves to a sacrifice for our safety. That is the fidelity between those gentles and us.
Unless there is some type of strange consideration that divides the Pantheon from the Compact - a wall, a seperation -
That does require change, does it not?
Unless there is some type of strange consideration that divides the Pantheon from the Compact - a wall, a seperation -
That does require change, does it not?
Written By Bethany
Jan. 17, 2017, 3:14 p.m.(9/9/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Jeremiah
He that turns the puns into social and political commentary. The one that chases the Faith with a lengthy disquisition to explore the laws of the Compact.
I am flummoxed by J.
I am flummoxed by J.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 15, 2017, 7:38 p.m.(9/3/1005 AR)
Courage: An Element of Perseverance
Courage is oft a measure of our self-esteem and wilt. 't shows in what we believe and the power of belief ov'r our wilt. 't is at each moment the sore path. 't can be an unconscious act of boldness, but 'ere all 't is the conscious decision of a person to act despite the danger. Thither is nay courage without risk. Thither is nay heroism without stakes.
We cannot speak about courage without bethinking about losses and victories. Courage differs from imprudence or madness by its results. The courageous act saves life, gives desire, 't is a rare act of self-sacrifice for the valorous of others. The criminal who is't steals, or lies for personal gain, or kills, who is't causes unhappiness to others with his reckless actions, is not a courageous person.
Two thoughts: the courage as offense and the courage as defense. The courage of offense did remain the preserve of gentles and, by widespread ideology ‘cross culture, those gentles in the arena of war. The courage of defense, though by gross in sense necessity and was nay less at home on the battlefield than the courage of offense. Though than aught 't involved the ability to endure long, drawn-out suffering, teen, and hunger, and the constant importuning visions of battlefield horrors.
Perhap from the courage of defense, come the idolization of martyrdom. The courage of defense is eke venerated; to square injustice 'r ov'rcome difficulties high-lone - physically and morally - oft without the support of political courage of tales, sermons and public opinion need courage yond a few can has't.
Written by B. Mercier as Barnabas Michert
Courage is oft a measure of our self-esteem and wilt. 't shows in what we believe and the power of belief ov'r our wilt. 't is at each moment the sore path. 't can be an unconscious act of boldness, but 'ere all 't is the conscious decision of a person to act despite the danger. Thither is nay courage without risk. Thither is nay heroism without stakes.
We cannot speak about courage without bethinking about losses and victories. Courage differs from imprudence or madness by its results. The courageous act saves life, gives desire, 't is a rare act of self-sacrifice for the valorous of others. The criminal who is't steals, or lies for personal gain, or kills, who is't causes unhappiness to others with his reckless actions, is not a courageous person.
Two thoughts: the courage as offense and the courage as defense. The courage of offense did remain the preserve of gentles and, by widespread ideology ‘cross culture, those gentles in the arena of war. The courage of defense, though by gross in sense necessity and was nay less at home on the battlefield than the courage of offense. Though than aught 't involved the ability to endure long, drawn-out suffering, teen, and hunger, and the constant importuning visions of battlefield horrors.
Perhap from the courage of defense, come the idolization of martyrdom. The courage of defense is eke venerated; to square injustice 'r ov'rcome difficulties high-lone - physically and morally - oft without the support of political courage of tales, sermons and public opinion need courage yond a few can has't.
Written by B. Mercier as Barnabas Michert
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.