Written By Savio
Aug. 23, 2021, 10:03 a.m.(1/26/1016 AR)
To fight a monster is unimaginably horrible.
To be recognized by one is worse.
To be recognized by one is worse.
Written By Savio
Aug. 7, 2021, 2:10 p.m.(12/23/1015 AR)
Missed Connection
You, disguised in quite the outfit
Me, losing my whole mind about it
You, bear-masked and stealing food
Me, unsuccessfully pursued
You, causing all manner of havoc
Me, appreciating these theatrics
You, your motives and your name unclear
Me, hoping that you'll reappear
It went down at the Honey Festival
You made it weird, that's incontestable
You're clearly someone super shady --
So here's my journal, write me maybe?
You, disguised in quite the outfit
Me, losing my whole mind about it
You, bear-masked and stealing food
Me, unsuccessfully pursued
You, causing all manner of havoc
Me, appreciating these theatrics
You, your motives and your name unclear
Me, hoping that you'll reappear
It went down at the Honey Festival
You made it weird, that's incontestable
You're clearly someone super shady --
So here's my journal, write me maybe?
Written By Savio
Aug. 2, 2021, 6:41 p.m.(12/13/1015 AR)
The Frog King, a Story for Children
There once was a frog, king of his pond
Who turned out to be exceeding fond
Of croaking out at little fish
Who didn't do just as he wished
You'd think such minutiae beneath him
And though others found his logic thin
The frog could not resist the urge
To berate the fish as quite a scourge
'Scales and fins, loathsome, grotesque!
Only frog-lords know what's best!
Stay in your place, you worthless fish
Be glad you're allowed to exist!'
Such vitriol slowly accreting
And one by one the fish stopped heeding
Until at last upon his throne
The frog king sat unheard, alone
All the fish continued business
And left him without further witness
The fate of the frog who blustered and scared --
Turns out nobody really cared.
Ribbit, ribbit.
There once was a frog, king of his pond
Who turned out to be exceeding fond
Of croaking out at little fish
Who didn't do just as he wished
You'd think such minutiae beneath him
And though others found his logic thin
The frog could not resist the urge
To berate the fish as quite a scourge
'Scales and fins, loathsome, grotesque!
Only frog-lords know what's best!
Stay in your place, you worthless fish
Be glad you're allowed to exist!'
Such vitriol slowly accreting
And one by one the fish stopped heeding
Until at last upon his throne
The frog king sat unheard, alone
All the fish continued business
And left him without further witness
The fate of the frog who blustered and scared --
Turns out nobody really cared.
Ribbit, ribbit.
Written By Savio
July 29, 2021, 7:37 p.m.(12/5/1015 AR)
Kind of funny, kind of sad
To see the Peerage barking mad
At the words of the Shepherd Duke
So disastrous, so uncouth!
What next, will we ennoble bees?
He'll bring the Compact to its knees!
Let's not all get quite so fired
You'll just come out of it dog tired
I know it's given us a fright
But that proclamation's bark, not bite
Don't mind the Duke, what does he know?
It's all a dog and pony show
'It's an affront to laws and gods
The Peerage going to the dogs!'
Or could it only simply be
Some barking up at the wrong tree?
It's always tempting, this outcry
But we could let sleeping dogs just lie.
To see the Peerage barking mad
At the words of the Shepherd Duke
So disastrous, so uncouth!
What next, will we ennoble bees?
He'll bring the Compact to its knees!
Let's not all get quite so fired
You'll just come out of it dog tired
I know it's given us a fright
But that proclamation's bark, not bite
Don't mind the Duke, what does he know?
It's all a dog and pony show
'It's an affront to laws and gods
The Peerage going to the dogs!'
Or could it only simply be
Some barking up at the wrong tree?
It's always tempting, this outcry
But we could let sleeping dogs just lie.
Written By Savio
July 29, 2021, 10:21 a.m.(12/4/1015 AR)
If it can be dismantled by the truth, it should be.
Written By Savio
July 22, 2021, 11:39 a.m.(11/18/1015 AR)
There is a whispered space between
The chaos and the noise
Something less and something more
Than our sadness and our joy
There is a quiet place at home
Without censure or acclaim
An interstitial haven
Where our days pass so unchanged
We sing and write for heroes
And it's the drama we remember
But lives are made of softer things
A prosaic, simple center
Moments unremarked-upon
And how soon they slip from view
But I've come to know the value
Of the stillness shared with you.
---
I'm slowly putting myself back together.
The chaos and the noise
Something less and something more
Than our sadness and our joy
There is a quiet place at home
Without censure or acclaim
An interstitial haven
Where our days pass so unchanged
We sing and write for heroes
And it's the drama we remember
But lives are made of softer things
A prosaic, simple center
Moments unremarked-upon
And how soon they slip from view
But I've come to know the value
Of the stillness shared with you.
---
I'm slowly putting myself back together.
Written By Savio
July 17, 2021, 3:57 p.m.(11/9/1015 AR)
I did the best that I could do for as long as I could do it
But all the paths are closed to me; there is no way through this
I know that you'll be angry and I don't know what to say
No one ever jumps if they can find another way.
But all the paths are closed to me; there is no way through this
I know that you'll be angry and I don't know what to say
No one ever jumps if they can find another way.
Written By Savio
July 11, 2021, 6:10 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
This is my second autumn in what is still to me a strange, foreign, northern country; Arx is turning the corner into what will be my second winter here. I remember the first time I saw snow, and I was filled with wonder, like a child. It seemed like magic.
Now I better understand that magic, and I feel much older. The awe is gone. It's just cold now.
Now I better understand that magic, and I feel much older. The awe is gone. It's just cold now.
Written By Savio
June 28, 2021, 8:54 p.m.(9/27/1015 AR)
If you want to have your cake
Then you can't eat it too
What a proper mess you've baked
Playing girls for fools
You thought you were clever
But you have so much to learn
Now your web is all aflame
I hope you're feeling burned
Your house of lies has fallen
And you really had some nerve
If you feel hard done to now --
Well, that's what you deserve.
Then you can't eat it too
What a proper mess you've baked
Playing girls for fools
You thought you were clever
But you have so much to learn
Now your web is all aflame
I hope you're feeling burned
Your house of lies has fallen
And you really had some nerve
If you feel hard done to now --
Well, that's what you deserve.
Written By Savio
June 21, 2021, 7:32 p.m.(9/13/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Mabelle
Not so long ago you told me you didn't understand poetry. On the contrary, I would say you understand it quite completely.
Written By Savio
June 17, 2021, 10:09 a.m.(9/4/1015 AR)
My man brought home a sparrow
And I did not like that bird
It shat on everything I love
Whole house full of turds
He left me to deal with it
While he went off to work
Day and night, nonstop noise
That sparrow was a jerk
I left it for two seconds
And it got into all my food
Maybe I over-reacted
But that animal was rude
I beat it up and threw it out
I'd absolutely had enough
Go back to your stupid woods!
Stop ruining my stuff!
My man tracked it down again
(I did not agree)
And came back with a box of gold
"The sparrow blessed us, see?"
Unlikely in the highest
Cause I knew that thing was bad
But I decided to go also
I'd figure out its evil plan
Why do birds have baskets?!
I told you this was wrong
But I took a basket anyway
I wanted to get gone
My basket was full of nightmares
And my last final words
Were "You know I hate these monsters --
But at least it's not more birds."
And I did not like that bird
It shat on everything I love
Whole house full of turds
He left me to deal with it
While he went off to work
Day and night, nonstop noise
That sparrow was a jerk
I left it for two seconds
And it got into all my food
Maybe I over-reacted
But that animal was rude
I beat it up and threw it out
I'd absolutely had enough
Go back to your stupid woods!
Stop ruining my stuff!
My man tracked it down again
(I did not agree)
And came back with a box of gold
"The sparrow blessed us, see?"
Unlikely in the highest
Cause I knew that thing was bad
But I decided to go also
I'd figure out its evil plan
Why do birds have baskets?!
I told you this was wrong
But I took a basket anyway
I wanted to get gone
My basket was full of nightmares
And my last final words
Were "You know I hate these monsters --
But at least it's not more birds."
Written By Savio
June 6, 2021, 12:29 a.m.(8/10/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Apollo
There's a space between 'enough' and 'more'
That my friend has asked me to explore
But upon self-reflection
It came out with dejection --
He might not ask me to write anymore.
This is not the poem.
This is just a tribute.
That my friend has asked me to explore
But upon self-reflection
It came out with dejection --
He might not ask me to write anymore.
This is not the poem.
This is just a tribute.
Written By Savio
June 2, 2021, 9:21 p.m.(8/3/1015 AR)
Every time, I light a candle
And then I watch it burn
Thinking of your wisdom
And all that I have learned
Every time, I light a smile
For all the words you spoke
And I agree wholeheartedly
Till there's nothing left but smoke.
More of the same.
On a different note, lots of poets in the whites lately, no? You love to see it.
And then I watch it burn
Thinking of your wisdom
And all that I have learned
Every time, I light a smile
For all the words you spoke
And I agree wholeheartedly
Till there's nothing left but smoke.
More of the same.
On a different note, lots of poets in the whites lately, no? You love to see it.
Written By Savio
May 27, 2021, 10:39 a.m.(7/18/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Orland
Orland does not read the white journals, and so I can safely praise him here -- to love in happiness, all sweet feelings and affection and lust, this is a fine thing. But to love in despair, with tenacity and commitment, this is the true face of devotion. When it is no longer easy, that is the point at which it becomes real.
It hasn't been easy. All the time I have known him, without me being aware, he has taught me how to persist. Now it comes to the test, and I would be lost if not for him. How fine a thing, to know someone who will walk with you in darkness, no matter how bitter the path. All should be so lucky.
It hasn't been easy. All the time I have known him, without me being aware, he has taught me how to persist. Now it comes to the test, and I would be lost if not for him. How fine a thing, to know someone who will walk with you in darkness, no matter how bitter the path. All should be so lucky.
Written By Savio
May 27, 2021, 10:33 a.m.(7/18/1015 AR)
I used to enjoy the familiar ritual of committing my thoughts, songs, and poems to the keepers of the white journals. Now, I can't say how many times I've meant to do so, and come away with nothing to show for it. My thoughts are now best committed to secrecy. Grief writes black.
But I will do my best.
Strangers have been cruel. Commoners and nobles do not agree on much, but they certainly can agree on their contempt for prodigal neo-nobles.
Friends have been kind. Moreso than I deserve, as lately they never know if I'm going to be in pieces when they see me.
A mystery has twice given me joy and warmth that seems the light of Jayus itself. So much deeper the darkness, when it's gone.
I have filled the Lonely Cloud with beautiful things, just as I have filled my life with beautiful people, trying to make a new way forward into whoever I am now. Perhaps you will visit. You would be welcome if you do.
My name is still an epitaph to the dead. Congratulations, Lord Proscipi.
I have been to islands far from home and have seen what I expected to see. I hoped it wouldn't be so. Things are going to get worse before they get better.
I am not ashamed.
I am still here.
But I will do my best.
Strangers have been cruel. Commoners and nobles do not agree on much, but they certainly can agree on their contempt for prodigal neo-nobles.
Friends have been kind. Moreso than I deserve, as lately they never know if I'm going to be in pieces when they see me.
A mystery has twice given me joy and warmth that seems the light of Jayus itself. So much deeper the darkness, when it's gone.
I have filled the Lonely Cloud with beautiful things, just as I have filled my life with beautiful people, trying to make a new way forward into whoever I am now. Perhaps you will visit. You would be welcome if you do.
My name is still an epitaph to the dead. Congratulations, Lord Proscipi.
I have been to islands far from home and have seen what I expected to see. I hoped it wouldn't be so. Things are going to get worse before they get better.
I am not ashamed.
I am still here.
Written By Savio
May 4, 2021, 10:12 p.m.(6/1/1015 AR)
They used the anger of our enemies against us, those you would call Abandoned or Shavs. Against tens of thousands, we held the walls.
They swarmed the city against the siege engines and the burning oil, and against those who threatened to breach, we held the walls.
Their Eurusi masters called a storm against us, and through the driving rain and wind, we held the walls.
Their sorcerers screamed and cried out as one and a terrible lightning strike was called down onto us -- with this, they broke us.
In district after district we fought in our streets until they ran red with blood, and in city block after city block we were pushed back, no matter how many of them we cut down, no matter how ferocious and unfailing my cousin Andromeda, my brother Giorgio, my love Orland.
At first, I counted how many of my people, how many Arakkoans, I saw die. I lost count. They are beyond counting.
The jewel of the Sky Palace was shattered, and burned. My family's home, burning, my mother and father and cousins, all of it is gone.
All of them are gone. My family is gone.
Almost everyone I have ever loved is dead or missing. I brought my people to a final place of rest for hours uncounted, and I do not know how to express the grief of being the Voice of the People for a population that has been so brutally silenced.
My songs are lost to me. I do not begrudge the people of the Compact their celebrations, their perception of a victory, but I hope that they will remember how much of it was purchased with the blood of those they call prodigals -- the warriors of Eswynd, so far from home, and the Arakkoans of Tremorus, without whom I no longer know who I am.
There are so few of us left, now. All the light has gone out of my world.
They swarmed the city against the siege engines and the burning oil, and against those who threatened to breach, we held the walls.
Their Eurusi masters called a storm against us, and through the driving rain and wind, we held the walls.
Their sorcerers screamed and cried out as one and a terrible lightning strike was called down onto us -- with this, they broke us.
In district after district we fought in our streets until they ran red with blood, and in city block after city block we were pushed back, no matter how many of them we cut down, no matter how ferocious and unfailing my cousin Andromeda, my brother Giorgio, my love Orland.
At first, I counted how many of my people, how many Arakkoans, I saw die. I lost count. They are beyond counting.
The jewel of the Sky Palace was shattered, and burned. My family's home, burning, my mother and father and cousins, all of it is gone.
All of them are gone. My family is gone.
Almost everyone I have ever loved is dead or missing. I brought my people to a final place of rest for hours uncounted, and I do not know how to express the grief of being the Voice of the People for a population that has been so brutally silenced.
My songs are lost to me. I do not begrudge the people of the Compact their celebrations, their perception of a victory, but I hope that they will remember how much of it was purchased with the blood of those they call prodigals -- the warriors of Eswynd, so far from home, and the Arakkoans of Tremorus, without whom I no longer know who I am.
There are so few of us left, now. All the light has gone out of my world.
Written By Savio
April 26, 2021, 6:18 p.m.(5/13/1015 AR)
The first Lonely Cloud shop commission is complete, to the satisfaction of the customer, and it seems that guests are understanding the come-in, no-invite-necessary intention of the parlor beyond the store front. That is lovely. My Cloud is a welcome distraction in this time, something to which I can set my hands when my heart is heavy. I have not set foot far beyond my new doors very often, lately.
My home, my Saffron Chain, the jewel of Tremorus atop her mountain, my proud and fierce Arakkoan people, my beautiful family -- what will become of you?
War is upon us, by its nature war is change and loss, and I am not ready to grieve what I loved.
My home, my Saffron Chain, the jewel of Tremorus atop her mountain, my proud and fierce Arakkoan people, my beautiful family -- what will become of you?
War is upon us, by its nature war is change and loss, and I am not ready to grieve what I loved.
Written By Savio
April 20, 2021, 7:25 p.m.(5/1/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Katarina
How big can a feather be?
The preference lies, of course, with thee
Some prefer one small and close
Others large and grandiose
Pheasant feathers long and slim
Or the subtle bands of a peahen
Peacock feathers bright and showy
Or the ostrich, fluffy, flowy
Feathers subtle, coy, flirtatious
Feathers bold and ostentatious
And though some tastes may disagree
Who would dare judge your millinery?
The preference lies, of course, with thee
Some prefer one small and close
Others large and grandiose
Pheasant feathers long and slim
Or the subtle bands of a peahen
Peacock feathers bright and showy
Or the ostrich, fluffy, flowy
Feathers subtle, coy, flirtatious
Feathers bold and ostentatious
And though some tastes may disagree
Who would dare judge your millinery?
Written By Savio
April 16, 2021, 2:28 p.m.(4/21/1015 AR)
To those who are wondering if I know which end of a sword to hold:
Yes. Sometimes.
Yes. Sometimes.
Written By Savio
April 13, 2021, 10:26 a.m.(4/14/1015 AR)
I have two moods, and two moods only
One is joyful, one is lonely
Loving life or crushed so small
Between these points I freely fall
I never know just where I'll land
And I'm not a thing I understand
When I'm told I should embrace this
All I can think is "Thanks, I hate it."
One is joyful, one is lonely
Loving life or crushed so small
Between these points I freely fall
I never know just where I'll land
And I'm not a thing I understand
When I'm told I should embrace this
All I can think is "Thanks, I hate it."
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.