Written By Rinel
Dec. 14, 2019, 7:37 p.m.(5/17/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
Herein is recorded the final writings of the commoner Elisha, who on the seventh of April, one thousand and twelve years after the Reckoning, was banished by the Church of the Pantheon for apostasy against the Faith. Such writings are recorded for the sake of knowledge only, pursuant to the holy command of our Lord Vellichor, and are anathema in the eyes of our holy Church.
***
"There is one god,
and you are Her prophet.
You are the Dreamer and the Dream;
a figment of the divine imagination.
Memory is a fiction and prophesy is a lie.
The past and the future don't exist in the Dream.
Unwrap the present and"
***
The rest of the recording is unknown to this scholar.
--Written by my hand, May 17, 1012 AR
***
"There is one god,
and you are Her prophet.
You are the Dreamer and the Dream;
a figment of the divine imagination.
Memory is a fiction and prophesy is a lie.
The past and the future don't exist in the Dream.
Unwrap the present and"
***
The rest of the recording is unknown to this scholar.
--Written by my hand, May 17, 1012 AR
Written By Orathy
Dec. 5, 2019, 5:10 p.m.(4/27/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
Folk... say they can't understand me half the time. And shit, half the time what you said to me were shit I ain't even beginning to fathom, still it be amusin. Reckon we formed some sort of odd way about us, you not understanding me, me not understandin you, but both a bit curious about the other. I reckon as a person, you were Beautiful. I usually ain't taken by fancy words but it be the way you spun 'em that caught my attention. It made me interested in the subjects you were talkin bout. For a second I reckon I might have been interested in religious trite. Something bout you Elisha, made ya stand hands above the others.
I reckon yer storytelling, Elisha, were getting popular, aye, cause ya WERE FUCKIN GOOD AT IT!! Confused me half the time but ya got me thinking 'n ya kept me coming back to hear more of yer cock-eyed poems. I ain't even like poems. Shit.
What they did to you kid, it ain't right. Reckon I feel right ashamed I ain't able to help ya out of the muck when you were mired in it.
These bloody journals were supposed ta be fer writing our thoughts 'n feelings and putting down our dreams into them 'n shit. Recording who we be as people...
Now I be guessin there be rules to all that. I ain't sure I get it.
Writing up false stories is grounds fer being escorted out of the Compact and losin home and kin?
Yanno Elisha, ya did the common people service. We know we ain't free to write what we want in these things no more.
I reckon yer storytelling, Elisha, were getting popular, aye, cause ya WERE FUCKIN GOOD AT IT!! Confused me half the time but ya got me thinking 'n ya kept me coming back to hear more of yer cock-eyed poems. I ain't even like poems. Shit.
What they did to you kid, it ain't right. Reckon I feel right ashamed I ain't able to help ya out of the muck when you were mired in it.
These bloody journals were supposed ta be fer writing our thoughts 'n feelings and putting down our dreams into them 'n shit. Recording who we be as people...
Now I be guessin there be rules to all that. I ain't sure I get it.
Writing up false stories is grounds fer being escorted out of the Compact and losin home and kin?
Yanno Elisha, ya did the common people service. We know we ain't free to write what we want in these things no more.
Written By Ras
Dec. 4, 2019, 8:12 a.m.(4/24/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
I'm sorry to my sister cuz I didn't keep my word, but I couldn't go anywhere without your shadow at the corners of my eyes, and I was drunk. No excuse, just the truth. Another broken promise. Can't count how many times I've let stormbird down. And you, told you I'd find you. I tried not to cuz Maja said she needed me, but in the end just couldn't hold still.
It's cuz I went by the Steep and stopped to look inside the window to see if you were there. But you weren't. And I remembered that you'd never be there again.
At the gate, there was a caravan goin north, and after I got with em, wasn't easy to stop. Outside of Arx, your shadow wasn't there. All I could think of was you somewhere lost and alone, even though at night, Maja's cryin face wouldn't let me sleep. So much worse than Jeffy's sad looks.
In the end, it wasn't my choice to come home. But I guess there wasn't any other choice to make. I couldn't find you.
Couldn't be there for you even though you were always there for me. When I was mean to you. When I told you shit that nobody else would just believe. When I made mistakes, bad mistakes. When I was hidin from the guards, or when I was in jail, or doin penance, or when anythin bad and boring happened, or whenever I was happy bout anythin good, you were there for me.
You listened to my stupid stories, you read me your poems and asked questions about what words were better - who else would ask me about words? You gave me ideas about things that were botherin me or things that I thought were okay and weren't. You told me secrets, but none of the really scary ones, and no matter what you knew you were always sweet. You were there when Nyce's million silver was on the floor, and you talked about the ladder instead. You made me laugh harder than anybody else could, and shared your gross lumps of hand-grease bread, and left things at my place that reminded you of me, and if I hadn't tidied, you'd have made as much of a mess there as you made of your own apartment. Now I wouldn't mind the mess.
You'd tell me about shit that worried you or shit that hurt your feelings, even though your feelings didn't get hurt a lot, cuz you were always floating. You floated better than anyone in the world. You were the only person I could listen to bout floating without gettin pissed off, and you told me that you were pissed off too, and you just dealt different from me or most folk. I'd never seen you as angry at all, and when you shared that, it felt like somethin special, like I understood a secret part of you. I'm bad at floating, but you sat with me until I slept when I was sad, you never tried to talk about things when I didn't want to, you never blamed me for ruining your life, and you always tried to help - with my cases, girl problems, with anythin. You always had the best ideas about what to do. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't've been brave enough to tell her how I felt, and cuz of you I lived the happiest weeks of my life.
You'd shove me if I needed a shove, or hug if I needed a hug, or tell me to get outta there if I wanted to go. You'd call me all those silly names, like twice-baked goose egg, or Alaras, or rattle-pated squirrel-sniffer, or cloudtouched, or Rassie, or whatever. I'm not the only one who's gonna miss your name-callin. Syd doesn't know who'll understand why she's the Waterfall now. You could pretend anythin. Nobody else woulda said a booger was my kingly retainer. Nobody else coulda come up with Allicot Percival Thoroughgood.
And you weren't just funny or clever. You'd stand in front of someone who was askin after my embarrassing secrets, and not tell her, even though you knew. Even though you suck at keepin secrets and barely ever remember which is whose. I never told you what that meant to me, that you didn't tell, but I trusted you. I could trust you to be you and to be my friend no matter what. You never asked me to change, or scolded me for gettin into shit. And in the end, you knew all my secrets, except for what happened right before they took you away. I never got the chance to tell you that one, but I know you wouldn't've hated me even for somethin so bad. You never hated anyone, and you told me everyone was the same. That was crazy but it made me think.
You'd say a lot of crazy things, but I started to understand how you thought, and to sorta know what crazy thing you'd be about to say some of the times - like that shit you said about Orathy - even if I didn't always agree, or even get it totally. Your mind just worked different and I guess you couldn't stop in the end. You just weren't made to be a costermonger, or a matchmaker, or anybody except you. Stormbird understood that you had to be true to your soul. I don't blame you for anythin. After all, you never even locked your door.
I'll never know somebody else like you...
I can't go to the bath house without seein you sittin in the cold tub singin in the middle of winter. You were a shitty singer but I liked to hear anyway. I can't stay home without seein you on the couch. Always takin off your boots. At the park, I keep expectin you on a picnic table writin poems and stories. Can't go to the graveyard without thinkin of you picking flowers there. When I look at a window at night and see reflections, I remember what we talked about that last time we talked alone at the bakery, hours before sunrise, and it's almost like I can see your reflection beside mine for a second. Are you on the other side of the dark glass? Hazers at the Hollow say they miss you. But they can't miss you as much as I do.
Rinel warned me about sayin goodbye. You'll never have that tea party you were plannin for her now, and the last time I saw you I didn't say goodbye at all. We were celebratin that you'd made it to the sixteenth, and I thought everythin was gonna be okay. You were laughin, and makin friends with other people's dogs, and callin me an inventor and callin Syd 'Lady Sydonia Floribund'. I wanted to move my chair closer to yours, cuz you were like the sun and I was cold.
Now I'm always cold. Stormbird says the sun's gone to shine on other lands, just like you told me about the twigs in the river. Always floating, always there, even if I couldn't see you, and it's true. There's hardly anywhere in the Lowers where I don't think of you. Your shadow's always here. I can stand on the roof waitin for years and feelin like you'll be there any minute, but.
You're actually gone. I can't really see you. Rat kebabs don't taste the same. Bread's like dry mud in my mouth. I haven't tried soup'n'biscuits again yet but I bet it's shit too. Nothin will ever be the same.
Nobody'll understand how you changed my life completely. I became a better person cuz of you, somebody who cared about how other people felt and saw the value of love instead of just speed. You made me start thinkin I could be good, instead of just bad all the time. And cuz of you, I won't stop tryin.
I want you to know that there's a lot of folk who care about you. Who told me to take you to the spiritwalkers, or to Estroch, and how to fix us disguises so we could come home again. Who tried to give me gems to trade with Abandoned, or coin for the road, and didn't get pissed that I wanted to find you. Who told me to tell you that they loved you, and that we'd have gone with blessings and prayers.
But I let everyone down, in every way, every time. You were the only one who never minded that. I'll miss you forever, Eli.
...
And I don't care who else reads this. For once in my life I'll be as brave as the poet, with his soul held out in open hands, who didn't write to the blacks.
...
Flax-embossed turdlings.
It's cuz I went by the Steep and stopped to look inside the window to see if you were there. But you weren't. And I remembered that you'd never be there again.
At the gate, there was a caravan goin north, and after I got with em, wasn't easy to stop. Outside of Arx, your shadow wasn't there. All I could think of was you somewhere lost and alone, even though at night, Maja's cryin face wouldn't let me sleep. So much worse than Jeffy's sad looks.
In the end, it wasn't my choice to come home. But I guess there wasn't any other choice to make. I couldn't find you.
Couldn't be there for you even though you were always there for me. When I was mean to you. When I told you shit that nobody else would just believe. When I made mistakes, bad mistakes. When I was hidin from the guards, or when I was in jail, or doin penance, or when anythin bad and boring happened, or whenever I was happy bout anythin good, you were there for me.
You listened to my stupid stories, you read me your poems and asked questions about what words were better - who else would ask me about words? You gave me ideas about things that were botherin me or things that I thought were okay and weren't. You told me secrets, but none of the really scary ones, and no matter what you knew you were always sweet. You were there when Nyce's million silver was on the floor, and you talked about the ladder instead. You made me laugh harder than anybody else could, and shared your gross lumps of hand-grease bread, and left things at my place that reminded you of me, and if I hadn't tidied, you'd have made as much of a mess there as you made of your own apartment. Now I wouldn't mind the mess.
You'd tell me about shit that worried you or shit that hurt your feelings, even though your feelings didn't get hurt a lot, cuz you were always floating. You floated better than anyone in the world. You were the only person I could listen to bout floating without gettin pissed off, and you told me that you were pissed off too, and you just dealt different from me or most folk. I'd never seen you as angry at all, and when you shared that, it felt like somethin special, like I understood a secret part of you. I'm bad at floating, but you sat with me until I slept when I was sad, you never tried to talk about things when I didn't want to, you never blamed me for ruining your life, and you always tried to help - with my cases, girl problems, with anythin. You always had the best ideas about what to do. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't've been brave enough to tell her how I felt, and cuz of you I lived the happiest weeks of my life.
You'd shove me if I needed a shove, or hug if I needed a hug, or tell me to get outta there if I wanted to go. You'd call me all those silly names, like twice-baked goose egg, or Alaras, or rattle-pated squirrel-sniffer, or cloudtouched, or Rassie, or whatever. I'm not the only one who's gonna miss your name-callin. Syd doesn't know who'll understand why she's the Waterfall now. You could pretend anythin. Nobody else woulda said a booger was my kingly retainer. Nobody else coulda come up with Allicot Percival Thoroughgood.
And you weren't just funny or clever. You'd stand in front of someone who was askin after my embarrassing secrets, and not tell her, even though you knew. Even though you suck at keepin secrets and barely ever remember which is whose. I never told you what that meant to me, that you didn't tell, but I trusted you. I could trust you to be you and to be my friend no matter what. You never asked me to change, or scolded me for gettin into shit. And in the end, you knew all my secrets, except for what happened right before they took you away. I never got the chance to tell you that one, but I know you wouldn't've hated me even for somethin so bad. You never hated anyone, and you told me everyone was the same. That was crazy but it made me think.
You'd say a lot of crazy things, but I started to understand how you thought, and to sorta know what crazy thing you'd be about to say some of the times - like that shit you said about Orathy - even if I didn't always agree, or even get it totally. Your mind just worked different and I guess you couldn't stop in the end. You just weren't made to be a costermonger, or a matchmaker, or anybody except you. Stormbird understood that you had to be true to your soul. I don't blame you for anythin. After all, you never even locked your door.
I'll never know somebody else like you...
I can't go to the bath house without seein you sittin in the cold tub singin in the middle of winter. You were a shitty singer but I liked to hear anyway. I can't stay home without seein you on the couch. Always takin off your boots. At the park, I keep expectin you on a picnic table writin poems and stories. Can't go to the graveyard without thinkin of you picking flowers there. When I look at a window at night and see reflections, I remember what we talked about that last time we talked alone at the bakery, hours before sunrise, and it's almost like I can see your reflection beside mine for a second. Are you on the other side of the dark glass? Hazers at the Hollow say they miss you. But they can't miss you as much as I do.
Rinel warned me about sayin goodbye. You'll never have that tea party you were plannin for her now, and the last time I saw you I didn't say goodbye at all. We were celebratin that you'd made it to the sixteenth, and I thought everythin was gonna be okay. You were laughin, and makin friends with other people's dogs, and callin me an inventor and callin Syd 'Lady Sydonia Floribund'. I wanted to move my chair closer to yours, cuz you were like the sun and I was cold.
Now I'm always cold. Stormbird says the sun's gone to shine on other lands, just like you told me about the twigs in the river. Always floating, always there, even if I couldn't see you, and it's true. There's hardly anywhere in the Lowers where I don't think of you. Your shadow's always here. I can stand on the roof waitin for years and feelin like you'll be there any minute, but.
You're actually gone. I can't really see you. Rat kebabs don't taste the same. Bread's like dry mud in my mouth. I haven't tried soup'n'biscuits again yet but I bet it's shit too. Nothin will ever be the same.
Nobody'll understand how you changed my life completely. I became a better person cuz of you, somebody who cared about how other people felt and saw the value of love instead of just speed. You made me start thinkin I could be good, instead of just bad all the time. And cuz of you, I won't stop tryin.
I want you to know that there's a lot of folk who care about you. Who told me to take you to the spiritwalkers, or to Estroch, and how to fix us disguises so we could come home again. Who tried to give me gems to trade with Abandoned, or coin for the road, and didn't get pissed that I wanted to find you. Who told me to tell you that they loved you, and that we'd have gone with blessings and prayers.
But I let everyone down, in every way, every time. You were the only one who never minded that. I'll miss you forever, Eli.
...
And I don't care who else reads this. For once in my life I'll be as brave as the poet, with his soul held out in open hands, who didn't write to the blacks.
...
Flax-embossed turdlings.
Written By Arianna
Dec. 3, 2019, 10:04 p.m.(4/23/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
I have so many things occupying my time right now but I still find time to peruse the white journals of interest. There's some commentary to be made on a few things but honestly I mostly just want to know one thing and one thing only.
What the fuck was Elisha smoking?
What the fuck was Elisha smoking?
Written By Saya
Nov. 28, 2019, 12:52 a.m.(4/11/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
Were you dropped on your head a small creature? I am not certain if I should ban stupidity from the Steep as well, but at that point I wouldn't have any clientele at all.
Written By Sina
Nov. 11, 2019, 3:36 p.m.(3/6/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
This man has proclaimed himself publicly in the Whites to be a scholar, and yet he continues to write fiction rather than fact. He has shown no interest in the pursuit of true knowledge, nor does he accept correction for his many misrepresentations. Vellichor does not inspire one to write fiction or poetry. Vellichor's ideal is knowledge. Poetry and fiction lies in the realm of Jayus, the Prince of Stories, and does not lie within the realm of the Scholar, unless such stories are intended to teach. Instead, these stories of his seem intended to constantly try the patience of the Faith.
To claim to be a scholar and then to write fiction is indeed quite the misrepresentation. He is most assuredly not recognized nor is he ordained as a Disciple of Vellichor or a Scholar of Vellichor. Let the record show, the Scholars of Vellichor do not tolerate imposters, especially when said imposter has been accused of heresy and excommunicated.
To claim to be a scholar and then to write fiction is indeed quite the misrepresentation. He is most assuredly not recognized nor is he ordained as a Disciple of Vellichor or a Scholar of Vellichor. Let the record show, the Scholars of Vellichor do not tolerate imposters, especially when said imposter has been accused of heresy and excommunicated.
Written By Ras
Oct. 21, 2019, 8:46 a.m.(1/20/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
Some things you understand only if you've been in the shadow of the upper city your whole life. And if you ain't a bootlicker.
And some things you can't post in the Whites cuz people you love could be hurt. Hurt by what's below, or by what's above. But sometimes they'll be hurt either way.
Eli's poems aren't prophecies or anythin stupid like that. If you know what they're about, you know what they're about. If you don't, you're not payin enough attention.
I wasn't, until just a couple weeks ago. Thought they were just kinda made-up stories with pretty words that were just fun and crazy. I said he's gotta stop sendin em to the Whites and just send em to friends instead, cuz of some advice from a smart apprentice Whisper.
So, the duchess of thieves poem got to me in a letter.
That's when I knew. It was selfish to tell him to keep his shit secret, and I told him so. That poem's a reflection of the story of Wisdom and Woe. If you wanna hear more, then find me. Probably in the Lowers.
And some things you can't post in the Whites cuz people you love could be hurt. Hurt by what's below, or by what's above. But sometimes they'll be hurt either way.
Eli's poems aren't prophecies or anythin stupid like that. If you know what they're about, you know what they're about. If you don't, you're not payin enough attention.
I wasn't, until just a couple weeks ago. Thought they were just kinda made-up stories with pretty words that were just fun and crazy. I said he's gotta stop sendin em to the Whites and just send em to friends instead, cuz of some advice from a smart apprentice Whisper.
So, the duchess of thieves poem got to me in a letter.
That's when I knew. It was selfish to tell him to keep his shit secret, and I told him so. That poem's a reflection of the story of Wisdom and Woe. If you wanna hear more, then find me. Probably in the Lowers.
Written By Shard
Oct. 20, 2019, 6:10 a.m.(1/18/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
There isn't a sullen thug or spoiled child in Arx that can't lie their asses off on a whim either, and yet you keep showing it off. If as many people have hit you for as long as you've said, it's amazing that you're still acting like a martyr over a single sock to the jaw.
I told you to keep my stories out of your fucking mouth. I told you my scars aren't yours to play with. You decided to do it and do it to my face, and now, because you're so terribly proud of it, to put it down on paper so the people who keep following you around and somehow believe the bullshit that comes out of your smarmy hole will think you have some deep insight they just can't understand. You decided you could lay a claim on what's personal, and what's mine.
No.
I don't bow to statues, or prophecies. Your single trick is old, and I've seen it from half a dozen others before.
I told you to keep my stories out of your fucking mouth. I told you my scars aren't yours to play with. You decided to do it and do it to my face, and now, because you're so terribly proud of it, to put it down on paper so the people who keep following you around and somehow believe the bullshit that comes out of your smarmy hole will think you have some deep insight they just can't understand. You decided you could lay a claim on what's personal, and what's mine.
No.
I don't bow to statues, or prophecies. Your single trick is old, and I've seen it from half a dozen others before.
Written By Sirius
Oct. 20, 2019, 5:10 a.m.(1/18/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
The days are fraught when the most recent logging of white journals belie less-than-white words--black words; words of blood and rote promises; of death and untrammeled wanton; of Kings and Queens, allegorized into virtues both good and bad, to prove a point of shallow meaning. I cannot speak for that one's supposed savagery, nor how noble your intentions could hope to be, but here lies a situation I've experienced much amongst my troops- an opportunity, you see, for a tontine--a pledge, so that you too can find peace with one another.
I ask that distance's made. For your sake, hers, to leave her be. And I assure you, she'll be glad to make a trade; to side with the idea of not assaulting you and daring upon your life.
Here come us, the learned, to lecture--to criticize and demand - always the citizens of the Compact come scold the bloodthirsty Prodigal! A tale and happening as old as the very origin of their name. Pay heed to your sense, and this bit of my own I'm prostrating for you, and leave each other be.
As a last addition: Your rhymes and ditties, too, are beautiful. The way they're laced with anecdote and recital make them even more so inspiring, so it's of good to us all your art's preserved by not corkscrewing like a cetacean into certain death.
I ask that distance's made. For your sake, hers, to leave her be. And I assure you, she'll be glad to make a trade; to side with the idea of not assaulting you and daring upon your life.
Here come us, the learned, to lecture--to criticize and demand - always the citizens of the Compact come scold the bloodthirsty Prodigal! A tale and happening as old as the very origin of their name. Pay heed to your sense, and this bit of my own I'm prostrating for you, and leave each other be.
As a last addition: Your rhymes and ditties, too, are beautiful. The way they're laced with anecdote and recital make them even more so inspiring, so it's of good to us all your art's preserved by not corkscrewing like a cetacean into certain death.
Written By Sydney
Oct. 11, 2019, 12:02 a.m.(12/27/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
Eli's quickly becoming one of my favorite people in Arx. He's absolutely mad at times, but his honesty is a breath of fresh air. Has a way of drawing me out of myself a little bit, and ... after so long walkin' around with my chin out and my chest puffed up, it's good to just be able to breathe and braid some hair.
Okay, so he has some talk that's a bit dodgy, but you have to be pretty stodgy and set in your ways to see it as some kind of a threat.
His poems are lovely.
Okay, so he has some talk that's a bit dodgy, but you have to be pretty stodgy and set in your ways to see it as some kind of a threat.
His poems are lovely.
Written By Willow
Oct. 7, 2019, 11:15 a.m.(12/20/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
Poetry like that is the reason why despite my love of and admitted admiration for the works of Lord Rysen who I consider a dear friend, I must honestly say you are my favorite poet in the Compact. Because powerful art forces you to examine things you /know/ you know, and look at them with new eyes.
As controversial as the subject matter may be considered, it is true that Freedom means both the freedom to do good and ill. And it is worth examining that some people's freedom has a different worth and scope and cost than that of others. That it is a Choice that mankind makes when one oppresses another or forces another to suffer.
You have a level of insight that I don't rightly know you are often enough credited for. And a rare level of bravery to continue questioning, examining all aspects of that which we hold dear. While I don't believe anyone would consider that freedom and ability to Choose any less sacred or holy, it may well lead others to think more about the choices that they do in fact make.
Perhaps you should speak to Archlector Vayne if you have not yet, because I understand the Mirrormasks are a perfect place for that sort of examination. If you come to a point where you are no longer excommunicated, that is.
As controversial as the subject matter may be considered, it is true that Freedom means both the freedom to do good and ill. And it is worth examining that some people's freedom has a different worth and scope and cost than that of others. That it is a Choice that mankind makes when one oppresses another or forces another to suffer.
You have a level of insight that I don't rightly know you are often enough credited for. And a rare level of bravery to continue questioning, examining all aspects of that which we hold dear. While I don't believe anyone would consider that freedom and ability to Choose any less sacred or holy, it may well lead others to think more about the choices that they do in fact make.
Perhaps you should speak to Archlector Vayne if you have not yet, because I understand the Mirrormasks are a perfect place for that sort of examination. If you come to a point where you are no longer excommunicated, that is.
Written By Willow
Oct. 3, 2019, 3:25 p.m.(12/12/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
From Dreamer to Dreamer,
Inside the Dream we weave.
No steelsilk, no pyreweave,
But instead: stories
A song for the displaced
An ode to the downtrodden
A minuet for the forgotten
Effervescent songbird
You give wings to dreams
Inside the Dream we weave.
No steelsilk, no pyreweave,
But instead: stories
A song for the displaced
An ode to the downtrodden
A minuet for the forgotten
Effervescent songbird
You give wings to dreams
Written By Caith
Sept. 8, 2019, 7:58 p.m.(10/18/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
How terrible it must be, to be excommunicated. To fall from grace .. what a lonely and terrible existence that must be.
My prayers are that the young man finds his way back to the Faith so he may walk in the light once more.
My prayers are that the young man finds his way back to the Faith so he may walk in the light once more.
Written By Sparte
Sept. 3, 2019, 1:36 p.m.(10/8/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
I did not hear the blasphemy where Elisha claimed to be a prophet, nor the blasphemy where they claimed to be the voice of Aion. I do not even know if those are their own words or the rumors of others. Yet I did hear their imagination on display and the spinning of their ideas, both in person and in the whites. It is hard to miss them when your name is a part of the commentary. Somewhere along the way that imagination crossed a line between daydreams and ramblings and became heresy.
I can't say I'm surprised by the decision of the faith regarding Elisha. I don't believe it surprised any others who have met and spoken with Elisha, either.
I will always think highly of Elisha's creativity, but as with any gift there is responsibility in how it is used. I recognize that actions have consequences. I hope these consequences are ones he is prepared to face, and he will find his way.
I can't say I'm surprised by the decision of the faith regarding Elisha. I don't believe it surprised any others who have met and spoken with Elisha, either.
I will always think highly of Elisha's creativity, but as with any gift there is responsibility in how it is used. I recognize that actions have consequences. I hope these consequences are ones he is prepared to face, and he will find his way.
Written By Sparte
Aug. 16, 2019, 9 p.m.(9/1/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
A blessing or a curse is in the way you look at a thing.
Written By Monique
July 3, 2019, 11:03 p.m.(5/24/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
My mythic friend, I think you would know the answer to that question better than I, for surely the Gods have laid their hand fully upon you.
Written By Rysen
July 2, 2019, 6:22 p.m.(5/22/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
I will admit this much: your words have caused me to reflect with unflinching attention. I do not always like what I've seen.
Written By Hadrian
June 26, 2019, 11:17 p.m.(5/10/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
"And she asks: 'Is this your card?'"
Written By Reigna
June 22, 2019, 7:41 p.m.(5/2/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
I cannot say that I understand your stories, but I find the images captivating. They have been a boon as I have been trapped in bed recovering. They take my mind to unknown places.
Written By Sparte
June 21, 2019, 12:18 p.m.(4/28/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
A five fingered raven upon a slant roof, hears a baying calf with a bad hoof
The fiver fingered raven hopped down to the edge and cawed twice as loud 'til the calf was dead
--
Names spin us tales, tales on names are spun
We name clouds on lazy days while basking in sun
Asking what makes us dreamers, asking why ends the fun
When a thing has been named, is that tale done?
A cloven hoofed mule is no mule at all, yet stubborn as any mule by far
A feline with a knife on each side and a hunger for mud
A dragon that flits through our gardens for fun
The names that we say mean not what we hear
Names that were picked in an earlier year
We each have a name and that name may change
We each have a name and that never will
One tells us who and one tells us what
When who becomes what and what becomes who
We name stone and metal and more besides too
To be named a thing, to be a thing named
The names that we hear mean not what we say
--
A jack of all trades become the best that there was
No jack of his measure, no jack of his worth
So the jack became master, what a jack should not be
A jack of all trades ceased to be
The fiver fingered raven hopped down to the edge and cawed twice as loud 'til the calf was dead
--
Names spin us tales, tales on names are spun
We name clouds on lazy days while basking in sun
Asking what makes us dreamers, asking why ends the fun
When a thing has been named, is that tale done?
A cloven hoofed mule is no mule at all, yet stubborn as any mule by far
A feline with a knife on each side and a hunger for mud
A dragon that flits through our gardens for fun
The names that we say mean not what we hear
Names that were picked in an earlier year
We each have a name and that name may change
We each have a name and that never will
One tells us who and one tells us what
When who becomes what and what becomes who
We name stone and metal and more besides too
To be named a thing, to be a thing named
The names that we hear mean not what we say
--
A jack of all trades become the best that there was
No jack of his measure, no jack of his worth
So the jack became master, what a jack should not be
A jack of all trades ceased to be
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