Written By Medeia
Dec. 15, 2023, 6:26 p.m.(5/17/1021 AR)
News from Saikland was hard to come by in the Lowers. But it did come by. I heard about Kima's disappearance, and I heard about Estaban stepping in as baron. It shook me, and my decision to simply stay gone started to feel shaky. I had been raised well. I loved Saikland, I loved our people, and I could feel the pull of duty within my heart. Still, I stayed where I was. I continued to improve my apothecary skills, I had handled a birth on my own (terrifying, absolutely terrifying, but there was little other option in the moment - that little one was ready to be here). And then? There was news from Saikland.
Estaban was dead.
I had hoped that Saikland would see stability with my brother's guidance. There was no need for me to upset anyone further when everything was going well. Arcelia had married, Estaban had married. It seemed right to let everyone move on. And then he was dead. My brother. I would never again get to catch a glimpse of him on patrol, stealing that little piece of comfort just for myself. My hope had been dashed upon the rocks.
The night I heard, I sat on the beach until sun-up. It felt like home, even if the Bay of Thrax and the Lycene Split lap at the shore differently, it felt like home. I stared at the water and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. My heart was no longer inside of me, it was in Saikland. Sometime during the night, it had taken its leave. I knew where I needed to be.
Looking back, I should have said my goodbyes. I guess some mistakes need to be made twice in order to learn the lesson. What would I have said? (The truth. I should have.) My head was empty of any thought other than getting home. I didn't even think to visit the tower in the Ward of the Lyceum. No, I took what little coin I had managed to scrape together and bribed my way onto a ship headed for Southport, and then made the trip from Southport to Saikland.
It wasn't a warm welcome. Rightfully, Lucita met me with suspicion. But the scar was undeniable.
Estaban was dead.
I had hoped that Saikland would see stability with my brother's guidance. There was no need for me to upset anyone further when everything was going well. Arcelia had married, Estaban had married. It seemed right to let everyone move on. And then he was dead. My brother. I would never again get to catch a glimpse of him on patrol, stealing that little piece of comfort just for myself. My hope had been dashed upon the rocks.
The night I heard, I sat on the beach until sun-up. It felt like home, even if the Bay of Thrax and the Lycene Split lap at the shore differently, it felt like home. I stared at the water and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. My heart was no longer inside of me, it was in Saikland. Sometime during the night, it had taken its leave. I knew where I needed to be.
Looking back, I should have said my goodbyes. I guess some mistakes need to be made twice in order to learn the lesson. What would I have said? (The truth. I should have.) My head was empty of any thought other than getting home. I didn't even think to visit the tower in the Ward of the Lyceum. No, I took what little coin I had managed to scrape together and bribed my way onto a ship headed for Southport, and then made the trip from Southport to Saikland.
It wasn't a warm welcome. Rightfully, Lucita met me with suspicion. But the scar was undeniable.
Written By Medeia
Dec. 14, 2023, 8:06 a.m.(5/14/1021 AR)
I had heard stories about the capital from family who had been there. They all talked about how the Lower Boroughs were to be avoided - which made them my destination.
I had no plan beyond fading into anonymity so that my uncle could never find me. There was nothing - aside from that new scar running from sternum to right shoulder - that I had brought with me that would identify me. While traveling, I'd swapped clothing and cut my hair. The first time I was asked my name? I panicked. "Dia," I'd said. And so Dia I became.
Medeia melted away. It's ironic how all the lessons my mother had insisted on - and there had been many, my natural aptitude for the social arts had encouraged her to seek out the best tutors, and if she was going to invest in their fees, I was going to get every second of their time - were what saved me from being discovered. Polished mannerisms were pushed aside. I observed and emulated those around me, figuring out quickly what it was they expected from the role I had adopted and providing it. But it was impossible for Dia to be anyone other than Medeia at her core.
Children and elders needed minding, I needed food and shelter. Quickly, I found myself welcomed into homes with that simple exchange. An apothecary woman took me under her wing. And I met Tanith and Samira. With Tanith, I came to learn midwifery and knew that a bowl of stew from the Murder would fill my belly on the harshest winter days. Those bowls were usually accompanied by Brady. He had a way of just being there, ladling out compliments more questionable than the stew. But helping Tanith, holding the hands of mothers, kissing the skinned knees of children? That filled a lot of my time, and it filled a lot of my mind - pushing out thoughts of what I had left behind.
Having gone from a large family to being alone, however, was difficult. I found something of a replacement sister in Samira. We would explore alleys and rooftops, muse about what the future might hold. I can say this: Neither of us was blessed with future sight. Though it surprises me not at all that she has become such a renowned artist. Her passions were always going to be expressed creatively, and it warms my heart to see her known beyond the city, praised for her work.
I eventually learned that my uncle had been executed. It's probably a good thing I didn't really know until this week how close I had come to seeing him face-to-face again. My family had decided I was dead (and they had much more challenging situations to deal with). No one was looking for me, and even on occasions when Estaban was on Iron Guard patrol through the Lowers, I had learned the patterns and only ever had to duck into a shop to avoid him once.
The weeks turned to months turned to years - more than two of them! I'd carved out a little life for myself, even if that life was sometimes hungry and homeless. I was nearly 18. Everything was going to be fine.
I had no plan beyond fading into anonymity so that my uncle could never find me. There was nothing - aside from that new scar running from sternum to right shoulder - that I had brought with me that would identify me. While traveling, I'd swapped clothing and cut my hair. The first time I was asked my name? I panicked. "Dia," I'd said. And so Dia I became.
Medeia melted away. It's ironic how all the lessons my mother had insisted on - and there had been many, my natural aptitude for the social arts had encouraged her to seek out the best tutors, and if she was going to invest in their fees, I was going to get every second of their time - were what saved me from being discovered. Polished mannerisms were pushed aside. I observed and emulated those around me, figuring out quickly what it was they expected from the role I had adopted and providing it. But it was impossible for Dia to be anyone other than Medeia at her core.
Children and elders needed minding, I needed food and shelter. Quickly, I found myself welcomed into homes with that simple exchange. An apothecary woman took me under her wing. And I met Tanith and Samira. With Tanith, I came to learn midwifery and knew that a bowl of stew from the Murder would fill my belly on the harshest winter days. Those bowls were usually accompanied by Brady. He had a way of just being there, ladling out compliments more questionable than the stew. But helping Tanith, holding the hands of mothers, kissing the skinned knees of children? That filled a lot of my time, and it filled a lot of my mind - pushing out thoughts of what I had left behind.
Having gone from a large family to being alone, however, was difficult. I found something of a replacement sister in Samira. We would explore alleys and rooftops, muse about what the future might hold. I can say this: Neither of us was blessed with future sight. Though it surprises me not at all that she has become such a renowned artist. Her passions were always going to be expressed creatively, and it warms my heart to see her known beyond the city, praised for her work.
I eventually learned that my uncle had been executed. It's probably a good thing I didn't really know until this week how close I had come to seeing him face-to-face again. My family had decided I was dead (and they had much more challenging situations to deal with). No one was looking for me, and even on occasions when Estaban was on Iron Guard patrol through the Lowers, I had learned the patterns and only ever had to duck into a shop to avoid him once.
The weeks turned to months turned to years - more than two of them! I'd carved out a little life for myself, even if that life was sometimes hungry and homeless. I was nearly 18. Everything was going to be fine.
Written By Medeia
Dec. 12, 2023, 6:13 p.m.(5/11/1021 AR)
After my uncle attacked me, there was the question of what to do with me. I imagine, if I had died, it could have all been neatly covered up as some vicious attack. Bandits - like he had claimed - or some uppity vassal sending a message to him or something that made sure the truth was never known. Unfortunately for him, I'm very good at being inconvenient.
It was decided that I would be sent back to Saikland before the end of my fostering term. I think that still stands as the most miserable ship voyage I have endured; my wound was not yet healed, and the bandaging was extensive. My reception home was strange, and Neilda was upset because she had been sent home with me. Before anyone thinks ill of her, she was also upset that I had been harmed, but I had become silent. I wouldn't tell her - or anyone - anything other than the lie Marco had chosen for us. This might be the thing I hate him for the most: The rift between us has never fully closed in the wake of me not being able to tell my twin the truth.
I hope that the actions I took out of fear are understandable, if not entirely forgivable. You see, being a Lycene and knowing what I suddenly knew about what my uncle was capable of, I was terrified. Every meal felt like an opportunity for an unscrupulous cook to be bribed to poison me, every walk in the vineyards could invite a blade to my throat. There was no way he'd let me live. I was a liability. And I was certain I was inviting danger to my family.
I fled. I found my way on merchant ships and caravans to Arx. Where better to hide than a place with too many faces?
It was decided that I would be sent back to Saikland before the end of my fostering term. I think that still stands as the most miserable ship voyage I have endured; my wound was not yet healed, and the bandaging was extensive. My reception home was strange, and Neilda was upset because she had been sent home with me. Before anyone thinks ill of her, she was also upset that I had been harmed, but I had become silent. I wouldn't tell her - or anyone - anything other than the lie Marco had chosen for us. This might be the thing I hate him for the most: The rift between us has never fully closed in the wake of me not being able to tell my twin the truth.
I hope that the actions I took out of fear are understandable, if not entirely forgivable. You see, being a Lycene and knowing what I suddenly knew about what my uncle was capable of, I was terrified. Every meal felt like an opportunity for an unscrupulous cook to be bribed to poison me, every walk in the vineyards could invite a blade to my throat. There was no way he'd let me live. I was a liability. And I was certain I was inviting danger to my family.
I fled. I found my way on merchant ships and caravans to Arx. Where better to hide than a place with too many faces?
Written By Medeia
Dec. 11, 2023, 8:32 p.m.(5/9/1021 AR)
It occurred to me, while reading Count Amadeo's most recent memoirs, that I have never written in my journal of what Marco Argento did to me - not even in my blacks. It further occurs to me that few may recall that one of his brothers yet lives - my father.
The fall of Argento has haunted me for half my life, nipping at my heels and rearing up in unexpected places. But I have, in recent years, felt the grasp of my uncle upon me loosen. Perhaps the telling of it will help.
As such things go in noble marriages, there was an expectation that my siblings and I spend time in Nilanza before coming of age. Of course, being the nieces and nephews of the marquis, we were welcomed fairly often, and I was granted the joy of knowing many of my cousins. While Neilda found other diversions, I was always happiest when Cassimir and I could hide away in the nooks of the library or listen to the tales Rylan would spin for us. We both wanted to know everything we could know. And that is how many of our visits went, with me learning where all the best hiding spots were within the library.
I was a naive girl. In the stories i'd read about people acting dishonorably, I always thought they were just that - stories. Childhood innocence began to wear off as I read more and more, but the shattering of that naivete very nearly cost me my life. In a way, it did.
The timing of my official fostering period in Nilanza was matched to the early days of my uncle's scheming. Some plans had been set in motion, and the gossips talked endlessly about what was happening with Pravus and other vassals. At least, they did out in the city proper. Within the walls of the library, it all seemed so impossibly far away. One day, I heard my uncle and another enter the library, discussing the matter - and his schemes - while I was tucked into a nook, out of sight but able to hear everything. I listened intently; if anyone would know the truth of what was happening, it would be him!
I must have gasped. I don't remember. I do remember him grabbing me, and me breaking loose. My legs carried me out of the library, through the gardens, towards a spot I thought I could hide in at the edge of the property. But he was bigger and faster. And the ground rose up to meet me. Did I trip? Did he take hold of me and throw me down? The details become fuzzy, lost in blinding pain unlike anything I had experienced. Someone was screaming - me? He slipped, or I managed to throw him off, and the pain spread across my chest to my shoulder. A knife, his knife, clattered away on the ground. And people came. And he told them about how he had been out for a walk, how he had seen me being accosted by bandits, and he came to my rescue.
And that was the story I learned to tell. For a few years, anyway.
The fall of Argento has haunted me for half my life, nipping at my heels and rearing up in unexpected places. But I have, in recent years, felt the grasp of my uncle upon me loosen. Perhaps the telling of it will help.
As such things go in noble marriages, there was an expectation that my siblings and I spend time in Nilanza before coming of age. Of course, being the nieces and nephews of the marquis, we were welcomed fairly often, and I was granted the joy of knowing many of my cousins. While Neilda found other diversions, I was always happiest when Cassimir and I could hide away in the nooks of the library or listen to the tales Rylan would spin for us. We both wanted to know everything we could know. And that is how many of our visits went, with me learning where all the best hiding spots were within the library.
I was a naive girl. In the stories i'd read about people acting dishonorably, I always thought they were just that - stories. Childhood innocence began to wear off as I read more and more, but the shattering of that naivete very nearly cost me my life. In a way, it did.
The timing of my official fostering period in Nilanza was matched to the early days of my uncle's scheming. Some plans had been set in motion, and the gossips talked endlessly about what was happening with Pravus and other vassals. At least, they did out in the city proper. Within the walls of the library, it all seemed so impossibly far away. One day, I heard my uncle and another enter the library, discussing the matter - and his schemes - while I was tucked into a nook, out of sight but able to hear everything. I listened intently; if anyone would know the truth of what was happening, it would be him!
I must have gasped. I don't remember. I do remember him grabbing me, and me breaking loose. My legs carried me out of the library, through the gardens, towards a spot I thought I could hide in at the edge of the property. But he was bigger and faster. And the ground rose up to meet me. Did I trip? Did he take hold of me and throw me down? The details become fuzzy, lost in blinding pain unlike anything I had experienced. Someone was screaming - me? He slipped, or I managed to throw him off, and the pain spread across my chest to my shoulder. A knife, his knife, clattered away on the ground. And people came. And he told them about how he had been out for a walk, how he had seen me being accosted by bandits, and he came to my rescue.
And that was the story I learned to tell. For a few years, anyway.
Written By Medeia
Dec. 9, 2023, 3:39 p.m.(5/5/1021 AR)
Once upon a time, there was a spider. She was a promising young lady of a humble house within the spider kingdom, and she possessed natural talents and fine training that made her a desirable match. Other kingdoms took notice of her, and she soon found herself gaining the attention of lords from the bee and moth kingdoms, in addition to some fellow spiders. This lady spider had a gentle heart, but violent tragedy soon would come and twist her kindness into an ache for vengeance.
Before that tragedy, however, another had noticed the spider. A member of the silverfish kingdom saw the spider's potential and conspired to claim her. The silverfish lauded the spider and introduced the spider to a fearsome silverfish lord in need of a wife. And so the young spider, finding the silverfish novel and exciting, followed the path laid before her.
When tragedy intervened, many thought the spider would lose her affinity for the silverfish, but oh, how the silverfish fanned the flames of the fire within her that wanted to spread and burn those responsible for the tragedy. And the spider? She was unprepared for how that fire would consume her. It danced with a power she couldn't control, leaping out to singe people she cared about and rendering ash in her wake.
The spider and the silverfish were wed. And still the spider walked the path laid by the conspirator, who now mocked and belittled and undermined her with the aid of other silverfish. The spider further twisted, bending and bending so that she wouldn't break, trying desperately to keep her goodness shining through the cracks. But still? That fire raged.
She continued to hurt others, seeking targets for the flames. She'd spun her web and seared out parts of it, claiming they weren't good enough, patching them over in the hope that all the other kingdoms would see it and know how good she was. And she was good. And she was hurt. And she felt as if she were being torn apart as each day passed, as if there would come a day when all that was left of her was an empty heart and a shriveled up husk, all her legs curled in to finally show how warped she had become on the inside.
It came to pass that those responsible for the tragedy that twisted the spider found themselves on the losing side. The fire within began to subside, and as it did, the spider saw the damage it had caused. She fled the silverfish kingdom. Upon her return to the spider kingdom, she found herself with a sundered web and a candle flame. But she was, after all, a spider. The web could be fixed. The fire could be brought to heel. Slowly, the bends unbent and the twists untwisted, and she placed her goodness and her fire side-by-side so they could illuminate the path she chose for herself.
Before that tragedy, however, another had noticed the spider. A member of the silverfish kingdom saw the spider's potential and conspired to claim her. The silverfish lauded the spider and introduced the spider to a fearsome silverfish lord in need of a wife. And so the young spider, finding the silverfish novel and exciting, followed the path laid before her.
When tragedy intervened, many thought the spider would lose her affinity for the silverfish, but oh, how the silverfish fanned the flames of the fire within her that wanted to spread and burn those responsible for the tragedy. And the spider? She was unprepared for how that fire would consume her. It danced with a power she couldn't control, leaping out to singe people she cared about and rendering ash in her wake.
The spider and the silverfish were wed. And still the spider walked the path laid by the conspirator, who now mocked and belittled and undermined her with the aid of other silverfish. The spider further twisted, bending and bending so that she wouldn't break, trying desperately to keep her goodness shining through the cracks. But still? That fire raged.
She continued to hurt others, seeking targets for the flames. She'd spun her web and seared out parts of it, claiming they weren't good enough, patching them over in the hope that all the other kingdoms would see it and know how good she was. And she was good. And she was hurt. And she felt as if she were being torn apart as each day passed, as if there would come a day when all that was left of her was an empty heart and a shriveled up husk, all her legs curled in to finally show how warped she had become on the inside.
It came to pass that those responsible for the tragedy that twisted the spider found themselves on the losing side. The fire within began to subside, and as it did, the spider saw the damage it had caused. She fled the silverfish kingdom. Upon her return to the spider kingdom, she found herself with a sundered web and a candle flame. But she was, after all, a spider. The web could be fixed. The fire could be brought to heel. Slowly, the bends unbent and the twists untwisted, and she placed her goodness and her fire side-by-side so they could illuminate the path she chose for herself.
Written By Medeia
Dec. 8, 2023, 1:04 a.m.(5/1/1021 AR)
I fully appreciate the gift of being made to realize I was wrong.
No, I'm not being sarcastic.
No, I'm not being sarcastic.
Written By Medeia
Dec. 7, 2023, 10:46 a.m.(4/28/1021 AR)
I dreamt of that field, standing in it with her, hand in hand. It was serene and beautiful. Every single flower was a flame. Like a candle, waving gently in the breeze. They flickered and bloomed but never grew beyond our control. When I turned to look at her, to exclaim over all we had done, to celebrate how we had done our best and protected those who would come after us, we were one again. And the flames were flowers again.
Written By Medeia
Dec. 3, 2023, 9:27 p.m.(4/21/1021 AR)
I do so enjoy when inspiration strikes at the most opportune of times. I did not know I could paint! Oh, but plums and mustaches hold so much potential.
Written By Medeia
Dec. 3, 2023, 10:58 a.m.(4/20/1021 AR)
I recently found myself holding an unexpected letter that noted I live in a tower and asked after whether I was growing my hair out like in the old tale of the woman in the tower using her hair as a rope to let up her lovers, and whether I thought she was a good lover to encourage such a thing.
Oh, this sent me down some interesting thought-paths as I considered the questions. I have decided that my response - plucked exactly as initially written in my private correspondence - should be preserved:
"Fortunately for everyone, I am still insisting that all guests use the stairs rather than a ladder made from my hair. As romantic as that sounds, I suspect my neck would fail to support the weight of even the sprightliest of lovers. Really, one should likely avoid any relationships in which they are not welcome through the front door. So, no, I do not think she was a good lover - though, that is a specific comment on her staus of being a lover and not her qualities in bed. Perhaps she was phenomenal where it counted!"
May we all be phenomenal where it counts.
Oh, this sent me down some interesting thought-paths as I considered the questions. I have decided that my response - plucked exactly as initially written in my private correspondence - should be preserved:
"Fortunately for everyone, I am still insisting that all guests use the stairs rather than a ladder made from my hair. As romantic as that sounds, I suspect my neck would fail to support the weight of even the sprightliest of lovers. Really, one should likely avoid any relationships in which they are not welcome through the front door. So, no, I do not think she was a good lover - though, that is a specific comment on her staus of being a lover and not her qualities in bed. Perhaps she was phenomenal where it counted!"
May we all be phenomenal where it counts.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 29, 2023, 9:34 a.m.(4/12/1021 AR)
There may come a day when someone looks at me and sees all of me. They will know the stories behind the scars, the pull of my soul, the strength beneath the softness. They will not only accept but revel in the intricacies and contradictions that make me uniquely me. And rather than seeking to diminish the parts they do not understand, rather than feeling threatened by my achievements and capabilities, they will encourage my growth. They will see me and all that I could be, not who they think they can undermine me into being.
If that day ever comes, I pray that I am not blind to them. May the gods bless that person with the patience and fortitude they will need to endure me. They will, at least, have a steady supply of wine to get them through the harder days.
Maybe it is silly to be sitting here, thinking about this when there is so much else going on, needing my attention. But maybe I have not done a good enough job of tending to my heart and protecting it? Maybe I have spent so long focusing on others that I have accepted less than I want and less than I deserve. These are important things to realize.
If that day ever comes, I pray that I am not blind to them. May the gods bless that person with the patience and fortitude they will need to endure me. They will, at least, have a steady supply of wine to get them through the harder days.
Maybe it is silly to be sitting here, thinking about this when there is so much else going on, needing my attention. But maybe I have not done a good enough job of tending to my heart and protecting it? Maybe I have spent so long focusing on others that I have accepted less than I want and less than I deserve. These are important things to realize.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 27, 2023, 11:30 p.m.(4/9/1021 AR)
After a lovely opportunity getting to catch up with Duke Ryhalt, during which I noted that I had been meant to be a very-spare lady - one married off to a quiet life - but somehow ended up here, I slipped away to the Great Archive with a burning curiosity: How did I get here?
I spent some time looking over those earliest journals of my time in the city. Ones filled with memories that came flooding back as I read them. They were so vivid! And I wept for that girl, the one who listened as a lord shouted at the sky that she was more beautiful than the moon and stars, the one who had her not-yet husband imply he believed her capable of invading and conquering a barony, the one who cherished every bit of trust put in her as a midwife by new mothers.
I wept because I have always been here.
I spent some time looking over those earliest journals of my time in the city. Ones filled with memories that came flooding back as I read them. They were so vivid! And I wept for that girl, the one who listened as a lord shouted at the sky that she was more beautiful than the moon and stars, the one who had her not-yet husband imply he believed her capable of invading and conquering a barony, the one who cherished every bit of trust put in her as a midwife by new mothers.
I wept because I have always been here.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 26, 2023, 12:31 p.m.(4/6/1021 AR)
News from back home is mostly good. I know that people are afraid, I know that people are rightfully concerned, but I am so proud of the people of Saikland for letting cooler heads prevail in the face of overwhelming circumstances. I know all too well how sudden revelations can unbalance you. Make you question everyone and everything you thought you knew, thought you could trust. Our hearts and our minds are both so strong and so soft - the two are not exclusive. We can and will overcome the challenges we face.
I endeavor to always remain worthy of the trust my people place in me. It is precious.
I endeavor to always remain worthy of the trust my people place in me. It is precious.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 23, 2023, 8:58 p.m.(4/1/1021 AR)
The first day of spring always fills me with renewed hope. Of course, there are still days of chill winds and muck to traverse as all the snow melts, but the thawing feels good. And, perhaps this season, there will be opportunities blossoming and exciting new paths revealed to us.
I have so much to look forward to, as well! In just a handful of days, Princess Denica and I will be hosting a colorful game in the Lenosian Labyrinth - my thanks to Archduchess Jaenelle for her blessing to invite the city there for such an event. I have also volunteered my efforts to assist the wonderful Lady Umbroise of Aviaron's Peak and Radiant Aconite in a series of galas in the north. It has been a very long time since I have traveled so far. I am glad for the opportunity.
And the children should be returning to the city. Soon. I have missed them terribly. It will be nice to arrange play dates for them again. I love that we have the opportunity to encourage early friendships.
Yes. Spring is good. And means that summer will be coming!
I have so much to look forward to, as well! In just a handful of days, Princess Denica and I will be hosting a colorful game in the Lenosian Labyrinth - my thanks to Archduchess Jaenelle for her blessing to invite the city there for such an event. I have also volunteered my efforts to assist the wonderful Lady Umbroise of Aviaron's Peak and Radiant Aconite in a series of galas in the north. It has been a very long time since I have traveled so far. I am glad for the opportunity.
And the children should be returning to the city. Soon. I have missed them terribly. It will be nice to arrange play dates for them again. I love that we have the opportunity to encourage early friendships.
Yes. Spring is good. And means that summer will be coming!
Written By Medeia
Nov. 17, 2023, 10:39 a.m.(3/16/1021 AR)
It can feel so much safer to keep your feelings and desires locked away within you, but inevitably? These things have a way of leaking out and being known - or at least guessed at - by other people. They are betrayed by the words you choose, the looks you give, the time you spend, the company you keep, the gifts you bestow. To admit them is to be vulnerable. Letting others have access to those emotional parts of you will leave you open to exploitation. They might dangle the thing you want in front of you like a carrot before a mule, manipulating you into serving their own wants with the promise of yours to be fulfilled soon.
It has happened to me, before, plenty of times. I always prefer to believe that the best parts of people will triumph. I prefer to believe that being vulnerable creates shared strength as opposed to cruel opportunity. The double-edged sword of our humanity is that we are capable of both creating previously unimaginable beauty and devastating horror. To be open-hearted is to invite both in, to experience the world and the people around you as multi-faceted and complex.
And sometimes, we simply must confess what is in our hearts before it is too late. It is impossible to know what might be if you do not give it a chance to be. We might all have the lives we dream of at our fingertips and not even know it. We might even have the permission and support of others required to pursue something if we simply give voice to what we feel.
I have permission.
It has happened to me, before, plenty of times. I always prefer to believe that the best parts of people will triumph. I prefer to believe that being vulnerable creates shared strength as opposed to cruel opportunity. The double-edged sword of our humanity is that we are capable of both creating previously unimaginable beauty and devastating horror. To be open-hearted is to invite both in, to experience the world and the people around you as multi-faceted and complex.
And sometimes, we simply must confess what is in our hearts before it is too late. It is impossible to know what might be if you do not give it a chance to be. We might all have the lives we dream of at our fingertips and not even know it. We might even have the permission and support of others required to pursue something if we simply give voice to what we feel.
I have permission.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 15, 2023, 12:23 p.m.(3/12/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Cufre
The newest slate of the Commoners' Council has been announced, and I am impressed by the names!
There have been several pages of my whites dedicated to Cufre Harrow - for good reason. While it may be fair to accuse me of bias, as she is my protege, I assure the readers that she has earned every bit of praise I heap upon her. She is kind, conscientious, thorough, pious, creative, and just generally good company. I have no doubt that she will be an upstanding and capable voice for the people of the city. It is a joy to see her step into this new role, and I look forward to being an available resource to her - and the rest of the council - should support ever be wished for.
I have only previously met Messeres Publius and Nygard briefly, but their reputations suggest they will be valuable additions to the council. Caspian Wild and Raja Culler are both better known to me, and I am nearly as happy for their place on the council as I am for Cufre's - both are figures I have placed my trust in in the past and would do so again in the future.
May the gods guide them and smile upon all the people of Arx that they now serve.
There have been several pages of my whites dedicated to Cufre Harrow - for good reason. While it may be fair to accuse me of bias, as she is my protege, I assure the readers that she has earned every bit of praise I heap upon her. She is kind, conscientious, thorough, pious, creative, and just generally good company. I have no doubt that she will be an upstanding and capable voice for the people of the city. It is a joy to see her step into this new role, and I look forward to being an available resource to her - and the rest of the council - should support ever be wished for.
I have only previously met Messeres Publius and Nygard briefly, but their reputations suggest they will be valuable additions to the council. Caspian Wild and Raja Culler are both better known to me, and I am nearly as happy for their place on the council as I am for Cufre's - both are figures I have placed my trust in in the past and would do so again in the future.
May the gods guide them and smile upon all the people of Arx that they now serve.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 14, 2023, 9:46 a.m.(3/10/1021 AR)
I had wondered if I should still hold a birthday celebration for Baroness Lucita, my sister, and myself, given how unsettled so many things are right now. But I have always believed that, especially in troubled times, we must hold to those things which make all of this worth it. Having this reinforced by someone I trust and admire was comforting. And it was truly heartwarming to have so many beloved guests visit us and celebrate with us. I was reminded that I have become someone that others look to in these moments, that I, too, am a source of comfort. Gods willing, I will always be so.
And by the grace of Limerance, it is not just birthdays that we have had to celebrate! Though important - for we should all be so blessed with the chance to keep learning and loving in these lives we have, Saik and Byrne have recently brokered an alliance that reinforces the ties between the Lyceum and Crownlands. My cousin, Filip, has gone on to find his most perfect match in Countess Lyra. We are proud to see him embrace the role of count-consort of Cedar Vale. I, personally, am looking forward to visiting them again when the winter has passed. However, as Voice of Saik, it was my honor to act on Lucita's behalf to negotiate this union beyond my personal interests. The people of Saikland Greens and Cedar Vale will see benefits for generations to come through increased trade and the sharing of knowledge. This is an exciting and wonderful step forward for all.
There is so much that weighs upon us, so many fears to face and challenges to overcome. I promise you, whomever you are reading this, that there are good and sweet and lovely things worth holding onto. In these confusing and dark times, there is light to guide you through. It may be in the smile of the one who makes your heart swell with fondness, it may be in the company of people who brave the snow for you, it may be in the places you tell yourself you cannot find it for any number of fearful reasons. Find the light. If you cannot find it? Be it.
And by the grace of Limerance, it is not just birthdays that we have had to celebrate! Though important - for we should all be so blessed with the chance to keep learning and loving in these lives we have, Saik and Byrne have recently brokered an alliance that reinforces the ties between the Lyceum and Crownlands. My cousin, Filip, has gone on to find his most perfect match in Countess Lyra. We are proud to see him embrace the role of count-consort of Cedar Vale. I, personally, am looking forward to visiting them again when the winter has passed. However, as Voice of Saik, it was my honor to act on Lucita's behalf to negotiate this union beyond my personal interests. The people of Saikland Greens and Cedar Vale will see benefits for generations to come through increased trade and the sharing of knowledge. This is an exciting and wonderful step forward for all.
There is so much that weighs upon us, so many fears to face and challenges to overcome. I promise you, whomever you are reading this, that there are good and sweet and lovely things worth holding onto. In these confusing and dark times, there is light to guide you through. It may be in the smile of the one who makes your heart swell with fondness, it may be in the company of people who brave the snow for you, it may be in the places you tell yourself you cannot find it for any number of fearful reasons. Find the light. If you cannot find it? Be it.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 12, 2023, 8:31 p.m.(3/7/1021 AR)
Even as some move to tear apart the Compact, we continue to build it stronger. We forge the alliances that create a unity that is not mindless, not bent to the will of one who does not care for our individual aptitudes and desires. The Compact is worth protecting, we are all worth saving, and I am so glad to have found like minds in all fealties. I am especially glad to have long ago made acquaintance with Countess Lyra Byrne. More to come, but I so look forward to the future.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 9, 2023, 7:11 a.m.(2/28/1021 AR)
This very sudden awareness of the supernatural that has always surrounded us is encouraging in me an adherence to my Faith. Amid all of this, we should be clinging to our guiding principles and our better natures! It is important that we keep level heads and seek out understanding. Turning to our libraries and relying upon those better knowledgeable than us will allow us to soothe those sharp pangs that rattle us. There are wonderful resources through the Compact, especially the Sina Memorial Library in the Lower Boroughs and the Saikland archive.
In these cold winter months, when things can feel even more dismal and heartbreaking than they are, turning to the warmth of community can replenish the spirit. We should not be leaving our people out on the streets, hungry - for food or for knowledge. It is not possible for me to personally go and sit with everyone, but Saik is a house committed to both its people and the Compact. Baroness Lucita and I have arranged several charitable donations from our house to organizations that can help to extend that goodwill.
I implore you, if you read this, to act with honor and dignity in these challenging times. We have an opportunity to think well about our actions and how they serve us, how they serve our society.
"To act without thought is slavery." Our great enemy seeks to enslave us and bend us to his will, to turn our thoughts into nothing - to replace them with his own. Think. Think carefully. Do not let fear inspire you to act without thought, to be your master. I believe in the great potential for beauty, strength, growth, love, kindness, health, and success that can come from us pausing, breathing, and dedicating ourselves to our godly principles.
In these cold winter months, when things can feel even more dismal and heartbreaking than they are, turning to the warmth of community can replenish the spirit. We should not be leaving our people out on the streets, hungry - for food or for knowledge. It is not possible for me to personally go and sit with everyone, but Saik is a house committed to both its people and the Compact. Baroness Lucita and I have arranged several charitable donations from our house to organizations that can help to extend that goodwill.
I implore you, if you read this, to act with honor and dignity in these challenging times. We have an opportunity to think well about our actions and how they serve us, how they serve our society.
"To act without thought is slavery." Our great enemy seeks to enslave us and bend us to his will, to turn our thoughts into nothing - to replace them with his own. Think. Think carefully. Do not let fear inspire you to act without thought, to be your master. I believe in the great potential for beauty, strength, growth, love, kindness, health, and success that can come from us pausing, breathing, and dedicating ourselves to our godly principles.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 6, 2023, 3:29 p.m.(2/23/1021 AR)
I know that my heart still beats regularly, it must - I can feel it when I press my hand there, that thump-thump that proves I have life. And yet, in the more ethereal sense? I feel as if my heart has been standing still for days, as if it dares not even spread its wings to brush against the bars of its cage. I cannot tell if I have been breathing. Did I last breathe in or out? When this stillness releases me, will I be left gasping desperately for air or exhaling in relief? I was right. About too many things. All at the same time.
Written By Medeia
Nov. 3, 2023, 2:26 p.m.(2/16/1021 AR)
I wonder if this is how a fire feels just as the first flame is birthed? On the precipice of something great and powerful and life changing and engulfing. With the potential to cleanse and to destroy in equal measure? There is something hot and ferric in this winter air. Something is going to ignite.
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