Written By Cesare
June 3, 2021, 1:46 p.m.(8/5/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Viviana
I'd hazard to say that in my experience, indifference is a crime of nature, but hardly the worst of them. Willful malice and wanton cruelty go much further toward achieving their ends than indifference by its very meaning. We're not meant to be creatures of stagnation.
Written By Cesare
May 30, 2021, 9:36 p.m.(7/25/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Orland
You were delightful. Together you and Savio create an entirely different sound, with an entirely different character, than either of you would on your own. An apt relationship metaphor, no doubt, very clever, et cetera, appropriate stuff from your Whisper friend. I suspect that taste of performing for such a large crowd, especially after coming back from something of a hiatus, may prove irresistible. It's a particular feeling, isn't it? A bit queasy, even at the peak of the joy.
I entirely approve if you do descend into wanton performing addiction, to be clear. You may say you'd only perform to large crowds now, but what about in front of no crowd at all? Sometimes it's even more thrilling performing without any audience at all, just seeing how far you can push your abilities among others with a like mind.
I entirely approve if you do descend into wanton performing addiction, to be clear. You may say you'd only perform to large crowds now, but what about in front of no crowd at all? Sometimes it's even more thrilling performing without any audience at all, just seeing how far you can push your abilities among others with a like mind.
Written By Cesare
May 29, 2021, 2:13 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
It was a wonderful night! Apprentice Whisper Aconite's event was absolutely unrivalled in its magnificence. Those who missed out on this afternoon's performances were deprived of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sample some of the finest cultural fare that Arx has to offer. Lord Savio and Lord Orland's profoundly moving Arakkoan song of Tremorous brought tears - quite literally - to the eyes of onlookers. I was proud and honored to perform my own song, a tribute to my youth in Setarco, which I do not exaggerate when I say that I worked day and night for weeks on. As anyone who knows me well knows, my songs are by far what I consider the greatest gift I have to give to the world, and any opportunity I have to present them to an audience is an extremely important event for me. I'm so fortunate that my humble work was so graciously received and that I had such wonderful friends and support as Lord Savio and Lord Orland, and their very tall, beautiful, and kind cousin Lady Cassiopeia, as well as my fantastic and supportive patron Princess Graziella, to witness my performance. The Princess disappeared afterwards, but that's just how she is, she probably went looking for a shell she could hear the sea in. She does that, you know? Collects things. I think she collected me too, but she's lovely. Wait, what was I saying? Oh yes, I was also fortunate to speak with some interesting new people I had never met, to witness some incredible Eurusi dances, and then we all went back to Savio's place - Lord Savio's place, and we had some of the most astonishing whiskey. So if my diction is a bit less elaborate than usual you'll have to forgive me. Miss Petal of the Tangled Skein came to see us, too. What a sweet being. Have you ever noticed how many lovely people there are?
I don't think I'll ever sing that song again. Some songs are only meant to be sung once. Especially when they're written to serve a particular purpose. I got it out of me just as sure as you rip out a tooth, and now I just have to wait for the next one to take its place. Whoever missed it, it's gone! Really, the whole process is painful, so the tooth metaphor is apt. The only time it doesn't hurt is when it's in my mouth.
Oh, maybe scratch that out. No, never mind, I'm going to sleep. It doesn't matter.
I don't think I'll ever sing that song again. Some songs are only meant to be sung once. Especially when they're written to serve a particular purpose. I got it out of me just as sure as you rip out a tooth, and now I just have to wait for the next one to take its place. Whoever missed it, it's gone! Really, the whole process is painful, so the tooth metaphor is apt. The only time it doesn't hurt is when it's in my mouth.
Oh, maybe scratch that out. No, never mind, I'm going to sleep. It doesn't matter.
Written By Cesare
May 23, 2021, 7:03 a.m.(7/10/1015 AR)
I haven't slept. I need to know who the women with the golden eyes are. Woman? Is she one woman, wearing two guises? How does she bring so much to a room with her presence, and then disappear so thoroughly? And why do I see her in my dreams?
Written By Cesare
May 22, 2021, 11:56 a.m.(7/9/1015 AR)
I admit I'm uncertain what I have to write about. I've tried to make a habit of writing these journals once a week, at least, but I'm used to mulling over my musings more internally than externally, and the act of putting them to paper feels like an additional, extraneous step in many ways. Not to mention, much of what I do in my daily life is simply not mine to record publicly. Or privately, for that matter.
I'm not a warrior, and if all goes to plan, I never shall be; so I haven't any profound tales of battle and sacrifice with which to regale you. Only the usual struggles against triteness and mediocrity, in my personal work, and efforts toward understanding, compassion, and satisfaction in my public work. Yes, I am being deliberately vague, out of necessity, I assure you. I should dearly love to have something life-changing to offer here, but if I did it would likely go into song in any case rather than a journal.
The Compact enters an uneasy interregnum between wars. The profusion of parties seems almost frantic, in a way, as though by means of sheer revelry we can forget the pain and loss. Progress, and time, march forward, carrying us all along with them. I'm doing my best to assuage the growing pains where I may.
Apprentice Whisper Aconite honored me this week by asking me to perform at a festival that she is organizing on behalf of Whisper House. I was only too glad to accept, and look forward to the event - Aconite has a refined palate in all aspects, and excellent taste. She's asked me to write something about my roots, which I've been mulling over, and find it's proving itself strangely difficult. I don't want to be too literal, for one. Nor am I interested in addressing the same events of my life which anyone who has spoken to me at length is doubtless familiar with. (I know, this is all rather ironic and possibly petty considering what I've written above. But that's what I mean about lacking anything profound to say.)
Something will come to me. I find oftentimes the best way to get around these problems is by not thinking about them at all.
I'm not a warrior, and if all goes to plan, I never shall be; so I haven't any profound tales of battle and sacrifice with which to regale you. Only the usual struggles against triteness and mediocrity, in my personal work, and efforts toward understanding, compassion, and satisfaction in my public work. Yes, I am being deliberately vague, out of necessity, I assure you. I should dearly love to have something life-changing to offer here, but if I did it would likely go into song in any case rather than a journal.
The Compact enters an uneasy interregnum between wars. The profusion of parties seems almost frantic, in a way, as though by means of sheer revelry we can forget the pain and loss. Progress, and time, march forward, carrying us all along with them. I'm doing my best to assuage the growing pains where I may.
Apprentice Whisper Aconite honored me this week by asking me to perform at a festival that she is organizing on behalf of Whisper House. I was only too glad to accept, and look forward to the event - Aconite has a refined palate in all aspects, and excellent taste. She's asked me to write something about my roots, which I've been mulling over, and find it's proving itself strangely difficult. I don't want to be too literal, for one. Nor am I interested in addressing the same events of my life which anyone who has spoken to me at length is doubtless familiar with. (I know, this is all rather ironic and possibly petty considering what I've written above. But that's what I mean about lacking anything profound to say.)
Something will come to me. I find oftentimes the best way to get around these problems is by not thinking about them at all.
Written By Cesare
May 13, 2021, 6:06 p.m.(6/19/1015 AR)
Last night's feast in Eswyndiol, hosted by the gracious Lady Medeia and Lord Haakon, was a rousing delight. While I find myself poorly suited to contests of martial ability - broken fingers and bruised muscles are not conducive to the playing of musical instruments, to say the least - I quite enjoy the display of skill and spirit when it's all done in the guise of friendship. There's something to be learned about a person from everything they choose to do and how they do it, and fighting is certainly no exception. Lord Ian Kennex did put on /quite/ an impressive display of skill and determination; not to speak any less of the other competitors, as each of them, including the hostess of the party herself, proved quite capable and demonstrated not only prowess, but dare I say, style?
(I did not say good style, or fashionable, I simply said style.)
One cannot help but be particularly impressed when a combatant chooses to fight with nothing more than a subtly-sharpened spoon.
I enjoyed also a relatively short but piquant conversation with the newly-minted Lord Proscipi the younger, a man whose soul flows in a similar direction as my own, I suspect, and look forward to meeting him again. We bards must stick together, after all; there is a lot of ass-waving and yowling yet to be done in the world, and it is our solemnest duty to see it done.
Summertime always seems to set the blood running a little hotter and tempers a bit quicker, and there is always the usual profusion of feasts and celebrations to enjoy when the weather is at its finest, but I can't help but wonder if the instinct this year toward tumbling and drinking and fisticuffs is part the usual roused spirits and part the overdue reckoning of what many have brought home with them from war. It doesn't worry me - screwing and fighting are much more enjoyable and feel much more productive than contemplation and talking, I am aware. But I do hope those who need us will seek my fellow Whispers and me out, when the time comes. We have our part to play too, and are able and willing.
(I did not say good style, or fashionable, I simply said style.)
One cannot help but be particularly impressed when a combatant chooses to fight with nothing more than a subtly-sharpened spoon.
I enjoyed also a relatively short but piquant conversation with the newly-minted Lord Proscipi the younger, a man whose soul flows in a similar direction as my own, I suspect, and look forward to meeting him again. We bards must stick together, after all; there is a lot of ass-waving and yowling yet to be done in the world, and it is our solemnest duty to see it done.
Summertime always seems to set the blood running a little hotter and tempers a bit quicker, and there is always the usual profusion of feasts and celebrations to enjoy when the weather is at its finest, but I can't help but wonder if the instinct this year toward tumbling and drinking and fisticuffs is part the usual roused spirits and part the overdue reckoning of what many have brought home with them from war. It doesn't worry me - screwing and fighting are much more enjoyable and feel much more productive than contemplation and talking, I am aware. But I do hope those who need us will seek my fellow Whispers and me out, when the time comes. We have our part to play too, and are able and willing.
Written By Cesare
May 9, 2021, 3:23 p.m.(6/11/1015 AR)
I noted upon meeting someone the other day that the phrase "may you live in interesting times" can be considered either a blessing or a curse, depending on intent of the giver. Rarely do those of us living in such interesting times understand the ultimate significance of whatever events come to pass; hindsight is, after all, the master of assigning meanings. I suppose the best I can say is that what short time I have been in the city so far has certainly not been uninteresting.
When I was not much more than a boy myself, on one of those glorious Setarco spring days when the scent of citrus blossoms fills the air and the sea is as blue as a jewel, I had the honor of being asked to perform for one of the Pravus princesses' birthdays. She was only a girl then, a slip of a thing all big blue eyes and blonde hair. I remember quite clearly what I played for her -- and it seems she did too, and now, both of us being in Arx, fate has aligned us so that our paths may run parallel for a while. Time has changed her, as it changes us all, but I have seen so far a generous spirit and a lively mind, and both are good company.
I have spent some time wandering the city and met some others aligned in deed or in fealty to the Pravus as well -- Egon Maw, one of Princess Graziella's other proteges. A scholarly sort. I find him quite interesting, although I get the sense he does his best not to be. And the Blackheart of Pravus, Raven, who seems to be every bit as swashbuckling as one would imagine. There was also a brief run-in with two gentlefolk at a tavern, one of whom I shall be quite sure not to call a Captain again, but not truly long enough for a proper first impression. The general sense I get is that ... I have a great deal of work ahead of me.
I have been praying a great deal lately. For inspiration and guidance, for those who were lost to rejoin the Wheel, for their loved ones to find peace and an ease to suffering. Strange to be in such a time of great personal action, yet also to be drawn to such introspection as well.
When I was not much more than a boy myself, on one of those glorious Setarco spring days when the scent of citrus blossoms fills the air and the sea is as blue as a jewel, I had the honor of being asked to perform for one of the Pravus princesses' birthdays. She was only a girl then, a slip of a thing all big blue eyes and blonde hair. I remember quite clearly what I played for her -- and it seems she did too, and now, both of us being in Arx, fate has aligned us so that our paths may run parallel for a while. Time has changed her, as it changes us all, but I have seen so far a generous spirit and a lively mind, and both are good company.
I have spent some time wandering the city and met some others aligned in deed or in fealty to the Pravus as well -- Egon Maw, one of Princess Graziella's other proteges. A scholarly sort. I find him quite interesting, although I get the sense he does his best not to be. And the Blackheart of Pravus, Raven, who seems to be every bit as swashbuckling as one would imagine. There was also a brief run-in with two gentlefolk at a tavern, one of whom I shall be quite sure not to call a Captain again, but not truly long enough for a proper first impression. The general sense I get is that ... I have a great deal of work ahead of me.
I have been praying a great deal lately. For inspiration and guidance, for those who were lost to rejoin the Wheel, for their loved ones to find peace and an ease to suffering. Strange to be in such a time of great personal action, yet also to be drawn to such introspection as well.
Written By Cesare
March 8, 2018, 7:04 p.m.(4/27/1008 AR)
Wandering feet and wandering minds must eventually come to rest.
This bed feels softer than I remember.
This bed feels softer than I remember.
Written By Cesare
Sept. 18, 2017, 3:40 p.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
"The Promise" by Cesare Whisper
Once I barefoot walked the streets of Setarco, and although it was nearly dawn the flagstones remained warm with the memory of the sun, despite the callings of the moon and her stars.
I thought to myself as I walked, "How many footfalls have been left behind, how many memories discarded on these streets? What joyous dancing? What steps guided by shame, or anger, or misanthropic intent?
Like a shade I walked with those memories, passing in between them as the time in between approached with the lightening of the sky.
I danced to songs long forgotten, with people celebrating new lives- births and weddings and happy times. I walked with bowed head among those who wished not to be seen, who's shame and self-loathing was remembered only by barefooted steps on paving stones. With the angry my soul raged and frothed and rioted- upset at everything and nothing in equal measures. I hid with thieves and searched with guards.
Each step of Memory a sip from an endless cup. Each sip different- but it was all from the same cup.
Eventually, I found myself standing on the pier near the edge of the water, facing outward towards a rising sun. A sailor came to me and asked why I stood on the docks in bare feet staring towards the coming dawn.
"I'm waiting," Said I.
"For what?" He asked.
I answered: "The fulfillment of Memory's Promise."
Once I barefoot walked the streets of Setarco, and although it was nearly dawn the flagstones remained warm with the memory of the sun, despite the callings of the moon and her stars.
I thought to myself as I walked, "How many footfalls have been left behind, how many memories discarded on these streets? What joyous dancing? What steps guided by shame, or anger, or misanthropic intent?
Like a shade I walked with those memories, passing in between them as the time in between approached with the lightening of the sky.
I danced to songs long forgotten, with people celebrating new lives- births and weddings and happy times. I walked with bowed head among those who wished not to be seen, who's shame and self-loathing was remembered only by barefooted steps on paving stones. With the angry my soul raged and frothed and rioted- upset at everything and nothing in equal measures. I hid with thieves and searched with guards.
Each step of Memory a sip from an endless cup. Each sip different- but it was all from the same cup.
Eventually, I found myself standing on the pier near the edge of the water, facing outward towards a rising sun. A sailor came to me and asked why I stood on the docks in bare feet staring towards the coming dawn.
"I'm waiting," Said I.
"For what?" He asked.
I answered: "The fulfillment of Memory's Promise."
Written By Cesare
Sept. 18, 2017, noon(3/26/1007 AR)
Light and shadow dance, always touching but never truly part of one another. This is an interaction we can see- but what if there is an unseen interaction. What of the invisible light and darkness within man's heart and soul? Do these things interplay more fully? Glide and mix together, muddying the waters?
Or are they like oil and water, never truly mixing? Could it be more like a tapestry, dark and light threads that together create a rich tapestry and alone are nothing but strands on the wind-
I think, however, it is very much like a musical composition. A soundscape of melodic texture and dissonant harmonies. An ever-playing flow of sound pleasant and terrible, both. Heights and depths.
The Agony and The Ecstasy of the soul is surely a song.
Or are they like oil and water, never truly mixing? Could it be more like a tapestry, dark and light threads that together create a rich tapestry and alone are nothing but strands on the wind-
I think, however, it is very much like a musical composition. A soundscape of melodic texture and dissonant harmonies. An ever-playing flow of sound pleasant and terrible, both. Heights and depths.
The Agony and The Ecstasy of the soul is surely a song.
Written By Cesare
Sept. 18, 2017, 11:29 a.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Lucita
My fellow musician, a beautiful woman in her own right. She is, perhaps, a bit unsure of herself- but that isn't anything truly unusual among artists or those of youth. She is certainly worthy of continued interest.
Written By Cesare
Aug. 25, 2017, 11:01 a.m.(2/3/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Valencia
A curious woman. Perhaps a friend, although, I admit I'm never sure with the nobility. She does, however, want to help others and that is an aspect of true nobility.
Written By Cesare
Aug. 25, 2017, 10:48 a.m.(2/3/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Belladonna
A very lovely woman to be sure, and worthy of praise and attention. I am sure she has a very vivid inner life under that smooth outwards appearance. Still, caution should be advised- she is, after all, from Setarco.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.