Written By Ilira
Nov. 18, 2021, 11:11 p.m.(8/5/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Cesare
Seconded.
Written By Ilira
Nov. 18, 2021, 8:23 p.m.(8/5/1016 AR)
Suffice it to say, I do not sleep on a very typical schedule. Perhaps this is the reason my dreams tend toward the strange and uncanny when I do?
Last night I dreamed I was standing on the ocean floor with my head above the clouds. I saw the horizon for miles--beyond miles--as I felt the sea crash around my feet and its secrets slither between my toes. I could have seen the world from that vantage point, if it weren't for all the cloud cover. Instead, I could only feel.
I felt the wind on the ends of my hair, the rain on my palms, the mountains and trees at my fingertips, and the sand at my knees. Waves roiled around my shins. The sun and moon and stars were in my eyes, and when I needed respite I would look into the darkness between them; I distinctly remember equating it to smelling coffee grinds at a perfumier's. As the light imprinted itself upon my vision, the brilliance scattered and reformed into abstract shapes that began to flow past me in a never-ending tableau. This is the more ineffable portion of the dream, where I was aware of all my senses and could sense everything, /everything/, but that is the best I may put to words for now. I awoke as the moon moved to eclipse the sun.
No, scholar, I do not smoke haze.
Last night I dreamed I was standing on the ocean floor with my head above the clouds. I saw the horizon for miles--beyond miles--as I felt the sea crash around my feet and its secrets slither between my toes. I could have seen the world from that vantage point, if it weren't for all the cloud cover. Instead, I could only feel.
I felt the wind on the ends of my hair, the rain on my palms, the mountains and trees at my fingertips, and the sand at my knees. Waves roiled around my shins. The sun and moon and stars were in my eyes, and when I needed respite I would look into the darkness between them; I distinctly remember equating it to smelling coffee grinds at a perfumier's. As the light imprinted itself upon my vision, the brilliance scattered and reformed into abstract shapes that began to flow past me in a never-ending tableau. This is the more ineffable portion of the dream, where I was aware of all my senses and could sense everything, /everything/, but that is the best I may put to words for now. I awoke as the moon moved to eclipse the sun.
No, scholar, I do not smoke haze.
Written By Ilira
Nov. 8, 2021, 12:28 a.m.(7/11/1016 AR)
It is done. My courtyard is complete.
There is much more still to go, finishing touches and further architecture, but my Fairytale Hollow is coalescing before my eyes.
I am mesmerized, as all of you will be in good time.
There is much more still to go, finishing touches and further architecture, but my Fairytale Hollow is coalescing before my eyes.
I am mesmerized, as all of you will be in good time.
Written By Ilira
Oct. 30, 2021, 12:16 a.m.(6/21/1016 AR)
I have taken my own breath. My latest creation is a masterpiece.
Written By Ilira
Oct. 24, 2021, 4:22 a.m.(6/10/1016 AR)
I loved today! Also, I really like Monique.
All praises to Cesare for hosting the Masked pursuit. It was a delight to partake and run wild with you all, my fellow participants.
I should do this more, getting out and enjoying myself. Even if it goes wrong, it's never once done me wrong. And every single thing today was right. Thank you, Valencia, for a beautiful conversation; thank you, Cesare, for throwing your event; thank you, everyone from today, for being a delight!
All praises to Cesare for hosting the Masked pursuit. It was a delight to partake and run wild with you all, my fellow participants.
I should do this more, getting out and enjoying myself. Even if it goes wrong, it's never once done me wrong. And every single thing today was right. Thank you, Valencia, for a beautiful conversation; thank you, Cesare, for throwing your event; thank you, everyone from today, for being a delight!
Written By Ilira
Sept. 21, 2021, 6:24 p.m.(4/1/1016 AR)
I am so happy it is spring.
I am so, so, so so wondrously delighted it is spring!
I am so, so, so so wondrously delighted it is spring!
Written By Ilira
Aug. 31, 2021, 1:15 a.m.(2/13/1016 AR)
For when the sun rises and the first flowers bloom this spring, I will burgeon with them.
Written By Ilira
Aug. 1, 2021, 12:19 p.m.(12/10/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Ryhalt
You aren't our better.
Written By Ilira
July 27, 2021, 9:02 p.m.(12/1/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Cirroch
But I have a couple words on the news about the Marquis.
I didn't know him. We sat together for about an hour in the Whisper gardens, discussing what he should look for in a protege. An hour was enough. He was so warm and kind to me, and genuine--wondrously genuine. He spoke of his wife with such love; he spoke of his people with such love. And he had this radiant smile. The kind that lights up bright rooms.
Something about his death, the stark suddenness of it, shook me to a very deep place. I did weep, though perhaps it wasn't my place given all the rest that knew him better. I am sad he will never have that protege. I am sad the world has lost a great man, and a beautiful soul.
I hope those lands shine as brilliantly as the legends say, Marquis Cirroch.
I didn't know him. We sat together for about an hour in the Whisper gardens, discussing what he should look for in a protege. An hour was enough. He was so warm and kind to me, and genuine--wondrously genuine. He spoke of his wife with such love; he spoke of his people with such love. And he had this radiant smile. The kind that lights up bright rooms.
Something about his death, the stark suddenness of it, shook me to a very deep place. I did weep, though perhaps it wasn't my place given all the rest that knew him better. I am sad he will never have that protege. I am sad the world has lost a great man, and a beautiful soul.
I hope those lands shine as brilliantly as the legends say, Marquis Cirroch.
Written By Ilira
July 27, 2021, 8:49 p.m.(12/1/1015 AR)
In times such as these, we must appreciate the small wonders.
I have completed an outfit, months in the works and my richest yet. And last week, I received two priceless gifts for free: my own grounds, and a dragonweep.
Good men may be dead, my old home in ruins, but I refuse not to celebrate. Perhaps it's all we can do, before the world sets ablaze.
I have completed an outfit, months in the works and my richest yet. And last week, I received two priceless gifts for free: my own grounds, and a dragonweep.
Good men may be dead, my old home in ruins, but I refuse not to celebrate. Perhaps it's all we can do, before the world sets ablaze.
Written By Ilira
July 26, 2021, 3:59 p.m.(11/27/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Desiree
Thank you. I will, as I always do.
Written By Ilira
July 25, 2021, 3:25 p.m.(11/25/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Dio
"Are hearts something one can shape on his own? Is it not set aflame, or protected or stolen by those whom he lets close enough to touch it?"
You tell me, lost one. I might have shown you the answer, but you left, and I had barely a moment to mourn before I learned I was mourning a lie. Relief isn't the word for it, that kind of detachment. It's a comfort to know who you weren't, but a painful and winding contemplation to also regard who you were. To me, to the rest.
Because I think you knew very well what it was to set hearts alight, you just couldn't harness your own flame. I understand, fire is a fickle thing with which to play. I suppose I only wish yours had been worth the burn.
I remember our first kiss on that mountaintop, our sole. I remember the hike up, and the tumble I took off that bough, and how hard we laughed together on that rockface. I remember every word we exchanged as you stoked the fire and I brewed the coffee. I remember your lips tasted of both. I am not ashamed to say, for those moments, I believed in who you pretended to be.
This writing is not from a place of grief. Rather, I wanted to recognize a story scrapped before it started. I felt my side of it deserved a voice. And despite myself, I needed to mourn the little nothings, what almost was and never would've been; I know now.
But you didn't steal my heart away with you, pirate. It's still sitting pretty right here, blazing and broken and beating, and that is a triumph unto itself. You came damn close, though. Perhaps you, wherever you are, can consider that a triumph too, and this a good riddance.
You tell me, lost one. I might have shown you the answer, but you left, and I had barely a moment to mourn before I learned I was mourning a lie. Relief isn't the word for it, that kind of detachment. It's a comfort to know who you weren't, but a painful and winding contemplation to also regard who you were. To me, to the rest.
Because I think you knew very well what it was to set hearts alight, you just couldn't harness your own flame. I understand, fire is a fickle thing with which to play. I suppose I only wish yours had been worth the burn.
I remember our first kiss on that mountaintop, our sole. I remember the hike up, and the tumble I took off that bough, and how hard we laughed together on that rockface. I remember every word we exchanged as you stoked the fire and I brewed the coffee. I remember your lips tasted of both. I am not ashamed to say, for those moments, I believed in who you pretended to be.
This writing is not from a place of grief. Rather, I wanted to recognize a story scrapped before it started. I felt my side of it deserved a voice. And despite myself, I needed to mourn the little nothings, what almost was and never would've been; I know now.
But you didn't steal my heart away with you, pirate. It's still sitting pretty right here, blazing and broken and beating, and that is a triumph unto itself. You came damn close, though. Perhaps you, wherever you are, can consider that a triumph too, and this a good riddance.
Written By Ilira
July 25, 2021, 1:52 p.m.(11/25/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Cassiopeia
You could probably say that about a lot of the things I've done.
Yes, the line between bravery and foolishness is fine, and I often find myself straddling it. Take heed, you might be adventuring with me soon!
Yes, the line between bravery and foolishness is fine, and I often find myself straddling it. Take heed, you might be adventuring with me soon!
Written By Ilira
July 24, 2021, 5:05 p.m.(11/23/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Mabelle
I feel the need to stress: that wasn't me. All I did was touch it!
Granted, I suppose a strange substance on an open wound is equivalent.
Granted, I suppose a strange substance on an open wound is equivalent.
Written By Ilira
July 22, 2021, 7:33 p.m.(11/19/1015 AR)
I want to dance.
I want a party, I want music.
Yes, I know it's my fault for not attending any of the most recent. I just can't bring myself, sometimes, whether for lack of an outfit or courage.
But I think I'll finish this ensemble I've had in the works a long time.
I want a party, I want music.
Yes, I know it's my fault for not attending any of the most recent. I just can't bring myself, sometimes, whether for lack of an outfit or courage.
But I think I'll finish this ensemble I've had in the works a long time.
Written By Ilira
July 19, 2021, 12:53 p.m.(11/13/1015 AR)
I took a trip last night.
I won't tell you where, but it granted me the chance to reconnect with someone that's known me from the beginning. We used to have so much friction, she and I, by virtue of us being such disparate people. But we picked up just where we left off, like no time or distance had passed at all. Something about it grounded me.
I am an immigrant to this land. My history is not here; those who bore witness to my growth over the years are not here. Much as I adore all my new people, they cannot compare who I was to who I am, leaving me to mull over it ad nauseam in my head. So to escape the noise and talk with one who can was a boon.
I just came away thinking, "you know, maybe I'm all right."
I won't tell you where, but it granted me the chance to reconnect with someone that's known me from the beginning. We used to have so much friction, she and I, by virtue of us being such disparate people. But we picked up just where we left off, like no time or distance had passed at all. Something about it grounded me.
I am an immigrant to this land. My history is not here; those who bore witness to my growth over the years are not here. Much as I adore all my new people, they cannot compare who I was to who I am, leaving me to mull over it ad nauseam in my head. So to escape the noise and talk with one who can was a boon.
I just came away thinking, "you know, maybe I'm all right."
Written By Ilira
April 26, 2021, 4:51 p.m.(5/13/1015 AR)
Some mortal experiences cannot be flawlessly articulated through metaphor, to which I am so prone.
In shadow, a flower wilts. A little darkness grants reprieve; a lush rainfall offers respite, but the light is a bloom's reason for unfurling. Too much of each, however, can drown or dry or wither the leaves and petals. Life for a flower, truly, depends upon pure balance.
But we are not flowers.
In shadow, a flower wilts. A little darkness grants reprieve; a lush rainfall offers respite, but the light is a bloom's reason for unfurling. Too much of each, however, can drown or dry or wither the leaves and petals. Life for a flower, truly, depends upon pure balance.
But we are not flowers.
Written By Ilira
April 5, 2021, 11:13 a.m.(3/27/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Savio
Rarely can I relate so equally with both sides of a story.
Written By Ilira
March 26, 2021, 11:10 p.m.(3/8/1015 AR)
No finer concoction exists to keep a woman awake through the night than coffee, creativity, and a full moon.
There are perhaps a few others, but this is a preferable favorite.
There are perhaps a few others, but this is a preferable favorite.
Written By Ilira
March 18, 2021, 10:02 p.m.(2/19/1015 AR)
I am as a breath: too soft and subtle to heed from afar, too pure and promising to ignore up close. And sometimes, little incendiary, the waver of the candle burns so low all it takes is that breath.
Or the well-misplaced brush of a silken sleeve to set the rest of a life alight.
Or the well-misplaced brush of a silken sleeve to set the rest of a life alight.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.