Written By Tikva
Jan. 25, 2022, 12:22 a.m.(12/27/1016 AR)
I had a truly delightful evening tonight at Princess Keely and Sir Corban's Farewell to Autumn ball for the King's Own. I admit, I had let the social calendar fall away from me a bit, between the work of the Inquisition and my own private research. With the sack of Bastion a looming pall over all, it was easy to let the gloom of the world overtake me a little, carving out a small and sacred bit of home and love and laughter just for me and my little ones. I don't regret the time I took to hover over the nursery like an overbearing chicken hen, but --
I also feel entirely ready for the winter season, a social set full of (appallingly) young and (ravishingly) beautiful people, and the stubborn optimism of a very hard head (mine, you see) smashed repeatedly into the wall of gloom wherever it occurs.
I commend to all Princess Keely's hosting, Princess Sofia's dancing, and Mistress Ilira's charm as a ... collision? I don't actually know how to describe that, but really, great fun was had by all.
Always commit!
I also feel entirely ready for the winter season, a social set full of (appallingly) young and (ravishingly) beautiful people, and the stubborn optimism of a very hard head (mine, you see) smashed repeatedly into the wall of gloom wherever it occurs.
I commend to all Princess Keely's hosting, Princess Sofia's dancing, and Mistress Ilira's charm as a ... collision? I don't actually know how to describe that, but really, great fun was had by all.
Always commit!
Written By Tikva
Dec. 1, 2021, 12:52 a.m.(9/1/1016 AR)
Lord Tiber says that if the journals you are reading are making you scowl a lot, you are definitely reading selections from the wrong people, and you should read different ones.
He recommends that you find white journals that make you laugh, instead, or that contain interesting facts about weaponry or military history. It's even better if you find a journal that can make you laugh _and_ contains interesting facts about weaponry or military history, but he assures me that this is almost impossible, like finding his other sock, which is completely beyond the power of anyone at all.
Maybe His Majesty could find Tiber's other sock, he reasons, but he has much more important things to do than that, and it would of course be extremely silly of me to suggest it.
He recommends that you find white journals that make you laugh, instead, or that contain interesting facts about weaponry or military history. It's even better if you find a journal that can make you laugh _and_ contains interesting facts about weaponry or military history, but he assures me that this is almost impossible, like finding his other sock, which is completely beyond the power of anyone at all.
Maybe His Majesty could find Tiber's other sock, he reasons, but he has much more important things to do than that, and it would of course be extremely silly of me to suggest it.
Written By Tikva
Nov. 16, 2021, 5:53 p.m.(8/1/1016 AR)
Which is worse, someone deciding to pickpocket an INQUISITOR, or the Inquisitor NOT NOTICING and the pickpocket getting away with it?!
My shame! My dismay! Laric is going to frown so severely at me for the harm to our reputation.
The charms were a gift from His Majesty, though. I'm both ashamed of myself and genuinely sad to lose them.
My shame! My dismay! Laric is going to frown so severely at me for the harm to our reputation.
The charms were a gift from His Majesty, though. I'm both ashamed of myself and genuinely sad to lose them.
Written By Tikva
Nov. 11, 2021, 6:33 p.m.(7/19/1016 AR)
You cannot crush me, for I am light as air
Borne up on voices, primed of song and prayer;
You cannot extinguish me, for I flow
as water in a river, unreachable by blows,
Liquid, reshaping my channel to the need
because I go where I will, wherever hearts heed;
You can't block my reach, for I grow from the root
Across unimaginable distance, each tiny new shoot;
You cannot defeat me, with vines twisting like rope
because I am unstoppable, unquenchable Hope.
Borne up on voices, primed of song and prayer;
You cannot extinguish me, for I flow
as water in a river, unreachable by blows,
Liquid, reshaping my channel to the need
because I go where I will, wherever hearts heed;
You can't block my reach, for I grow from the root
Across unimaginable distance, each tiny new shoot;
You cannot defeat me, with vines twisting like rope
because I am unstoppable, unquenchable Hope.
Written By Tikva
Sept. 13, 2021, 4:01 p.m.(3/13/1016 AR)
Nobility is many things, but it is foremost a duty, an understanding of the responsibilities that a leader owes those who follow her, and when a person of title or blood loses track of that, they fail to keep faith with their own House.
I was not born to this. I was claimed by it. And I shall never forget the humility of that. The grace that was gifted me, and the duties that bind me. Perhaps it is because I was but a child when the Count raised me, and I was fully trained and educated for the role to which I aspired; but I look upon the chaos of blood and status that comes with the random spread of freshly raised commoners who _weren't_ so trained with perhaps even more horror than those who were to the manner born.
I beg you, my fellows who have been raised to the Peerage, to remember the worth for which you were raised. Please stop making us all look bad.
I was not born to this. I was claimed by it. And I shall never forget the humility of that. The grace that was gifted me, and the duties that bind me. Perhaps it is because I was but a child when the Count raised me, and I was fully trained and educated for the role to which I aspired; but I look upon the chaos of blood and status that comes with the random spread of freshly raised commoners who _weren't_ so trained with perhaps even more horror than those who were to the manner born.
I beg you, my fellows who have been raised to the Peerage, to remember the worth for which you were raised. Please stop making us all look bad.
Written By Tikva
Aug. 24, 2021, 9:36 a.m.(1/28/1016 AR)
Today, Princess Lara Grayson is six years old. She was born on January 26, 1010 AR. Her tiny life has been full. I'm not sure how much she understands about what happened to her home and the seat of her House. Her bright eyes often seem to me to see more than I could really say. But for all the tragedy that has rocked Bastion, we are having a very good birthday, with honey and pancakes, and maple sugar candy from the Deepwood. Apparently, we don't want real (or "tall") cake, only flat cake, and we are the princess of the day and pancakes we shall have.
Our people are hurting and it is our duty to help, to protect, to rebuild, and we shall. I do not even know that we can call what happened a failure of our duty, since I do not know what else we might have done, what defenses we could have brought to bear that were not. So instead, I will call it brutal, and I shall say that we will protect, that we will rebuild, and that we are grateful for the support of the Compact in this time.
But that tragedy shall also not prevent us from turning six and having pancakes. There is None Greater, and we are resilient.
Our people are hurting and it is our duty to help, to protect, to rebuild, and we shall. I do not even know that we can call what happened a failure of our duty, since I do not know what else we might have done, what defenses we could have brought to bear that were not. So instead, I will call it brutal, and I shall say that we will protect, that we will rebuild, and that we are grateful for the support of the Compact in this time.
But that tragedy shall also not prevent us from turning six and having pancakes. There is None Greater, and we are resilient.
Written By Tikva
July 1, 2021, 2:41 p.m.(10/5/1015 AR)
One of the interesting things about living in Arx is the regional differences you don't even think about. Food, sure, everyone thinks about that; even the woods and fabrics from different places in Arvum. But today I am thinking about musical instruments.
I have several instruments about the place, of course, including the lovely crafted floor harp Ainsley and I had installed by Mistress Petal and her carpenter brother shortly after our marriage, so many years ago now, on which I do a lot of my musical composition. The oldest and most cared for, though, is a balalaika, which is essentially the same as any other lute, but with a longer neck and more triangular head, and only three strings. They're designed for quick, short bursts, for dance music and life and vibrancy. I don't know much about the history of the instrument, but it was actually my first.
It was crafted at Brighthold, from seasoned wood from our people's groves, as a gift to me on behalf of my brothers, Tibault and Sen. Tibault was the Count who adopted me, but he always said that he was not my father, but that we foundlings were the little brothers and sisters of his heart. I don't know if this is _true_, but what he told me was that it was an instrument used by my mother's people, and although my mother was gone, and disgraced, it's natural for any orphan to want to know as much about her blood as she can.
We gave the balalaika a name, Amanita. I don't remember why, but I've called her that my entire life. And my mother's people may or may not have adopted her style of instrument from the Ravashari, but that's what Tibault thought, and I believed him without examination because of course I did; inquiry comes later. Children are full of faith even when they are full of doubt. Tiber shows me this all the time.
When I play Amanita, I feel freedom in her strings, and the dance in her voice, mellow sweet. She's not an instrument on whom to compose an opera, or to sing a dirge. She's full of life and passion and all the bright joy and yearning hope that I have infused into her over my years of using her to play. And I wonder, if I played a different style of lute, if it came from a different shape, a different region, a different history: how would it shape my song?
Do you have a favorite instrument? A favored tool? A pen you've filled with all your thoughts and dreams? Has it shaped you?
I have several instruments about the place, of course, including the lovely crafted floor harp Ainsley and I had installed by Mistress Petal and her carpenter brother shortly after our marriage, so many years ago now, on which I do a lot of my musical composition. The oldest and most cared for, though, is a balalaika, which is essentially the same as any other lute, but with a longer neck and more triangular head, and only three strings. They're designed for quick, short bursts, for dance music and life and vibrancy. I don't know much about the history of the instrument, but it was actually my first.
It was crafted at Brighthold, from seasoned wood from our people's groves, as a gift to me on behalf of my brothers, Tibault and Sen. Tibault was the Count who adopted me, but he always said that he was not my father, but that we foundlings were the little brothers and sisters of his heart. I don't know if this is _true_, but what he told me was that it was an instrument used by my mother's people, and although my mother was gone, and disgraced, it's natural for any orphan to want to know as much about her blood as she can.
We gave the balalaika a name, Amanita. I don't remember why, but I've called her that my entire life. And my mother's people may or may not have adopted her style of instrument from the Ravashari, but that's what Tibault thought, and I believed him without examination because of course I did; inquiry comes later. Children are full of faith even when they are full of doubt. Tiber shows me this all the time.
When I play Amanita, I feel freedom in her strings, and the dance in her voice, mellow sweet. She's not an instrument on whom to compose an opera, or to sing a dirge. She's full of life and passion and all the bright joy and yearning hope that I have infused into her over my years of using her to play. And I wonder, if I played a different style of lute, if it came from a different shape, a different region, a different history: how would it shape my song?
Do you have a favorite instrument? A favored tool? A pen you've filled with all your thoughts and dreams? Has it shaped you?
Written By Tikva
June 2, 2021, 1:44 p.m.(8/3/1015 AR)
O! Muse, I cry thee stay thy hand
Your touch breaks upon me like a tide
and I am overwhelmed;
Ink bleeds from me like life force
and stains the page,
raw, unfettered, free,
yet untrammeled it is,
without rhyme or meter, structure or intelligence;
I am written upon the page
in my least tamed, unbroken form
as wild as the sea
and as comprehensible.
This is no way to write an aria.
Your touch breaks upon me like a tide
and I am overwhelmed;
Ink bleeds from me like life force
and stains the page,
raw, unfettered, free,
yet untrammeled it is,
without rhyme or meter, structure or intelligence;
I am written upon the page
in my least tamed, unbroken form
as wild as the sea
and as comprehensible.
This is no way to write an aria.
Written By Tikva
May 4, 2021, 10:31 p.m.(6/1/1015 AR)
The Lord Commander walked with me in aid of my convalescence and we visited the Menagerie and wandered about for awhile until I was too tired. It was lovely having a chance to catch up, and we did look at the turtles, but also other creatures. I'm always very pleased when I can bully busy and important people into stealing away a little fragment of time for themselves. She may be Voice of the Crown and that is a mighty burden, but she is also Eleanor, and my friend, so that was a good evening.
It will be so good that Duke Aiden's children will have a place their father loved so much to see as they grow. A place infused with memory, like the words of a paean, but to all Petrichor's creatures.
It will be so good that Duke Aiden's children will have a place their father loved so much to see as they grow. A place infused with memory, like the words of a paean, but to all Petrichor's creatures.
Written By Tikva
May 1, 2021, 2:02 p.m.(5/23/1015 AR)
I live to fight another day. My prayers are answered; my children will see their mother again.
Though I think I'll wait until they see me slightly less banged up. One of the healers - I think it was Rinel Tern? -- managed to get the arrowhead out of me without me hemorrhaging all over the floor but it turns out, being shot? It's not great!
Though I think I'll wait until they see me slightly less banged up. One of the healers - I think it was Rinel Tern? -- managed to get the arrowhead out of me without me hemorrhaging all over the floor but it turns out, being shot? It's not great!
Written By Tikva
April 30, 2021, 2:56 p.m.(5/21/1015 AR)
By my hand, my will upon my death, before we sail for the Saffron:
Leave my blacks sealed. There are too many Crown and Inquisition secrets with which I have wrestled over the years for it to be safe to let them fly free. By the grace of Vellichor, my thoughts that were fit for public consumption remain so, but that's all.
My belongings shall go to my husband, Prince Ainsley Grayson, except for my balalaika, which shall go to Princess Sorrel Thrax, whether she wants it or not; certain items of my jewelry and personal items have been marked so as to clutter the shelves of Master of Questions Laric Grayson; and my love, my undying love, across all time and space, to my children, for whom I live, and pray I will not fall. If my weapons are recovered, let them be held in trust for any of my children who choose to take up the bow, and when they reach the age of adulthood, if none of them take up the bow, let the alaricite be sold and the ransom of their worth be sent to my brother's house: a gift to the serfs of the Brighthold, a remembrance of the girl who left the sea behind, but never forgot the Lighthouse.
If I do fall in battle against the forces of slavery and darkness, I know that my sons and daughter will come to understand in time that this death is one to be proud of, and they will grow strong, and glorious, with all their family to hold them up.
Take heart. Have hope. If these are the last words of my pen to paper, that is what they shall be. Let it never falter. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Leave my blacks sealed. There are too many Crown and Inquisition secrets with which I have wrestled over the years for it to be safe to let them fly free. By the grace of Vellichor, my thoughts that were fit for public consumption remain so, but that's all.
My belongings shall go to my husband, Prince Ainsley Grayson, except for my balalaika, which shall go to Princess Sorrel Thrax, whether she wants it or not; certain items of my jewelry and personal items have been marked so as to clutter the shelves of Master of Questions Laric Grayson; and my love, my undying love, across all time and space, to my children, for whom I live, and pray I will not fall. If my weapons are recovered, let them be held in trust for any of my children who choose to take up the bow, and when they reach the age of adulthood, if none of them take up the bow, let the alaricite be sold and the ransom of their worth be sent to my brother's house: a gift to the serfs of the Brighthold, a remembrance of the girl who left the sea behind, but never forgot the Lighthouse.
If I do fall in battle against the forces of slavery and darkness, I know that my sons and daughter will come to understand in time that this death is one to be proud of, and they will grow strong, and glorious, with all their family to hold them up.
Take heart. Have hope. If these are the last words of my pen to paper, that is what they shall be. Let it never falter. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Written By Tikva
April 20, 2021, 1:07 a.m.(4/28/1015 AR)
It was really great seeing Deva again after all these years even if I did turn into a slightly embarrassing dinner guest. A lovely birthday gift!
No one tell Baron Clement and Duke Laurent I had a birthday. No one can know how old I am.
No one tell Baron Clement and Duke Laurent I had a birthday. No one can know how old I am.
Written By Tikva
April 20, 2021, 1:04 a.m.(4/28/1015 AR)
I remember
In the day, the brightness of the leaf
The sun on the rain, its bow I'd as lief
to carry in hand, arrows of light and life
to pierce the woeful ache of strife.
I remember
The ache in my throat, the choke of my breath
A heavy chill reaches past the solace of death
Tears burn like fire, defiant in my eye
But it is no matter with what will I strive
For I remember, I remember, I remember
And I will sing my hope tonight,
An arrow bright as the rainbow's light
Where it comes after the fall of tears,
It soars true, into the future, beyond fear.
In the day, the brightness of the leaf
The sun on the rain, its bow I'd as lief
to carry in hand, arrows of light and life
to pierce the woeful ache of strife.
I remember
The ache in my throat, the choke of my breath
A heavy chill reaches past the solace of death
Tears burn like fire, defiant in my eye
But it is no matter with what will I strive
For I remember, I remember, I remember
And I will sing my hope tonight,
An arrow bright as the rainbow's light
Where it comes after the fall of tears,
It soars true, into the future, beyond fear.
Written By Tikva
Nov. 29, 2020, 5:42 p.m.(6/23/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Cristoph
You do have great eyebrows!
Written By Tikva
Nov. 21, 2020, 2:25 p.m.(6/6/1014 AR)
The Bard's Hymn, to be sung before the chapel walls of the Grand Cathedral, and anywhere else we need a loud voice to sing out the time. Pass out sheets of music with the notes to any of the Bard's College to distribute. Jayus bless, with all my heart, and I'm setting a donation to the Knights of Solace to cheer the efforts there. Marking time has seemed... so critical to me, and it is a strange hollow not to hear the toll of the Cathedral's bells in these past days. But we can sing like the bells, can't we? I know I can.
________
[Pianissimo]
The bells ring not, and the hours pass--
Do you mark them?
The bells ring not, and the silence falls--
Will we break it?
The work begun, toil coming to us all
Will it finish?
[Fortissimo]
We stand loyal to the gods, to the last--
Will you join us?
Each hour comes-- When does it end?
Each minute ticks, I count it not
Each day breaks, and gods forfend
any missing time, any lost seconds caught.
The bells ring not, the belfry's still
but if our voices sing our will
we sing our hymnals, sing all our parts
mark the hours, by our hearts
[Crescendo, to finis]
Sing with me now, we'll be the bells
We'll mark the hours and toll what tells
The work will grow, with hope alive,
and our faith and strength will yet survive.
________
[Pianissimo]
The bells ring not, and the hours pass--
Do you mark them?
The bells ring not, and the silence falls--
Will we break it?
The work begun, toil coming to us all
Will it finish?
[Fortissimo]
We stand loyal to the gods, to the last--
Will you join us?
Each hour comes-- When does it end?
Each minute ticks, I count it not
Each day breaks, and gods forfend
any missing time, any lost seconds caught.
The bells ring not, the belfry's still
but if our voices sing our will
we sing our hymnals, sing all our parts
mark the hours, by our hearts
[Crescendo, to finis]
Sing with me now, we'll be the bells
We'll mark the hours and toll what tells
The work will grow, with hope alive,
and our faith and strength will yet survive.
Written By Tikva
Sept. 8, 2020, 2:01 p.m.(12/26/1013 AR)
Sometimes a dream is beyond music, and I cannot capture it in ink. But it still lifts your heart. I wish I could capture in notes and chords the feeling of uplifted memory that remains when I open my eyes and it's morning, but I still recall.
Written By Tikva
Aug. 24, 2020, 4:22 p.m.(11/24/1013 AR)
I saw some truly beautiful riding at the joust and I shall treasure this statuette of my beloved Kicky forever. I'm sure she agrees that it's about time someone highlighted the elegance of the true beauty in our partnership.
Written By Tikva
Aug. 17, 2020, 12:10 p.m.(11/10/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Corban
Where do you think I got my turtle?!
Written By Tikva
Aug. 14, 2020, 1:03 p.m.(11/4/1013 AR)
I have just received a letter delivered by an _adorable_ turtle. It is a petition from Lord Niklas Kennex to myself and to Prince Ainsley, putting himself forward as a suitor and seeking Princess Sabella Grayson's hand. As it happens, although neither Ainsley nor I is a Voice of Grayson at present, I am delighted to approve the match.
I am also tempted to appropriate this adorable turtle and place him in a cute turtle house with my lovely turtle, Lyric, I received as a gift, but I still need to have commissioned a grander turtle home and perhaps place it in the garden . . .
I am also tempted to appropriate this adorable turtle and place him in a cute turtle house with my lovely turtle, Lyric, I received as a gift, but I still need to have commissioned a grander turtle home and perhaps place it in the garden . . .
Written By Tikva
Aug. 10, 2020, 2:12 p.m.(10/24/1013 AR)
In working on an outline for my new project, I discovered three fourths of the way through it that there's not really a role for me to sing. Unless I try to sing tenor, which would be laughable. I'm not sure what kind of dizzy writer places herself in the chorus...
Yet it feels right. It's not MY story.
Yet it feels right. It's not MY story.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.