Written By Aconite
Jan. 31, 2024, 7:01 p.m.(8/27/1021 AR)
I've not yet reached the stars.
But I've come very close.
I may have to die satisfied with that.
My regrets are few but enormous.
I did not tell him I loved him. More than anything.
I forgot to tell my friends I loved them before they returned to the wheel.
I let my best friend slip away and have not made up the time I lost.
I have spent too many days sulking in my room and forgetting to be grateful for this life I was given, the freedoms I was gifted when I came to this land.
I have sometimes forgotten about the beauty in all things, even that which is painful.
I hope what I have contributed to this dream has meant something.
Every one of you that I have met for even a moment gave me a glimpse of your color in the kaleidoscope of life. I have loved you for your color.
But I've come very close.
I may have to die satisfied with that.
My regrets are few but enormous.
I did not tell him I loved him. More than anything.
I forgot to tell my friends I loved them before they returned to the wheel.
I let my best friend slip away and have not made up the time I lost.
I have spent too many days sulking in my room and forgetting to be grateful for this life I was given, the freedoms I was gifted when I came to this land.
I have sometimes forgotten about the beauty in all things, even that which is painful.
I hope what I have contributed to this dream has meant something.
Every one of you that I have met for even a moment gave me a glimpse of your color in the kaleidoscope of life. I have loved you for your color.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 30, 2024, 9:47 p.m.(8/25/1021 AR)
I did my best to prepare Whisper House and the Whispers for this. I am honored and truly grateful to everyone who came to our defense.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 30, 2024, 6:07 p.m.(8/25/1021 AR)
I write the names of those I knew. My feelings will have to come later or not at all...
Written By Aconite
Jan. 30, 2024, 6:06 p.m.(8/25/1021 AR)
Duke Titus Halfshav
Princess Sabella Grayson
Princess Sabella Grayson
Written By Aconite
Jan. 29, 2024, 1:20 p.m.(8/22/1021 AR)
The list of names grows. Pillars formed where they fell and killed hold up the falling heavens. It is too much already but at the same time not nearly enough.
Great people have fallen. Great people will continue to fall. It will be up to those who survive to build a future where these sacrifices matter.
Be Strong in the coming days. Leave as few regrets as possible.
Great people have fallen. Great people will continue to fall. It will be up to those who survive to build a future where these sacrifices matter.
Be Strong in the coming days. Leave as few regrets as possible.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 25, 2024, 6:54 p.m.(8/15/1021 AR)
He's dead! My bane, my hunter, my nightmare is gone! I did not know that he was my creator for a very long time but I did not know for as long as I have known I felt the cold blade of the huntsmen at my back and worried what might happen should he find me.
But He is gone. They are /gone/. My estranged, distant but beloved family are free. They will rebuild a new dream for themselves under the strength and sovereignty of their brave and blessed Queens.
There were many losses.. May they return to the wheel comforted that the did not sacrifice in vain!!
There's still much to do. Cults and Magisters to route and raze...
May Eurus and her people ever prosper. Especially those friends and refugees who can return home now.
My heart aches with joy.
But He is gone. They are /gone/. My estranged, distant but beloved family are free. They will rebuild a new dream for themselves under the strength and sovereignty of their brave and blessed Queens.
There were many losses.. May they return to the wheel comforted that the did not sacrifice in vain!!
There's still much to do. Cults and Magisters to route and raze...
May Eurus and her people ever prosper. Especially those friends and refugees who can return home now.
My heart aches with joy.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 22, 2024, 9:21 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)
Lady Mabelle Laurent.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 16, 2024, 10:06 p.m.(7/25/1021 AR)
Excerpt from my Black Journals
Some overcame the loss of a sensation but I had not lost my sense of touch. My ability to feel. Instead.. I had to clothe it. To wrap myself so that she could not harm others. The fever-pitched faces of loved ones who'd gotten too close or somehow otherwise been exposed to my poison had each been devastating. One had almost died! I sulked in my room at the Villas in Tor. I'd been that way for over a month and it had been far, far too long for Alejandro's liking. If for no other reason than he was getting tired of standing outside my door and waiting to move like a well-trained dog.
"Because you cannot touch a rose, can you not appreciate its beauty?" The gruff Torean asked me. He was over twice my age and he had been there that night on the deserted beach when it had been Fidante, not my mother, that had come to collect me. "Because you cannot /be/ a noble does that mean you cannot /be/ noble? Come, little flower, try not to let the world get you down. For it is beautiful... this whole world is beautiful and you can be beautiful in it without touch. Without being touched."
I didn't cry even though I wished it. It was simply a rule. No tears, no surprise, no anxiety, or reason to sweat, no harm, no spilt blood. Perfect restrained poise that would not allow ANY mistake, any folly that would come of someone accidentally contacting or ingesting the poison that seeped from my very being. But my sullen episodes were epic and this one was no different... I barely spoke and just stared out her window at the people in their gorgeous frocks strolling through the garden below, the blossoms like colorful jewels sparkling in the sun. Loving them and being angry at them all at once.
"Can you feel the silk?" He changed his tactic. This man’s presence had become more like family over time. And thus over sixteen years they had become my beloved ‘Uncle Alejandro’ and I like his Niece. But ‘Jandro He was a good enough soldier to know when an Uncle was needed.
"The breath of lace across your wrist. The embrace of your sea silk gloves or the tickle of fur across your cheek when you wear your fur-lined cloak?" I remember turning towards him, eyes focused almost too intently, they felt like they were burning. He could see that I hadn't been sleeping and said I had less color in my cheeks. "You once told me that you didn't want to die just because you were ‘supposed to’. You are not dead.. you simply cannot touch someone who cannot resist your toxin. But you’re different. There are people out there who shouldn't be touched because they're more poisonous than you could ever be. You do not deserve a fate like them. Your heart is good and you see art and beauty in even the simplest things. You have always been special in that way. You genuinely love the pretty things you are given.” He gestured out the window, “You move the way they move and look. But you forget that because you think you are not allowed to touch, and that means you think that you are not allowed to feel. Do you think all these gifts should not be appreciated in every way?"
Carefully he reached down and picked up the edge of my fur-lined cloak and lifted it to brush against my cheek. "Can you feel that?" I nodded and the Champion smiled, an expression that threatened to crack his stony features. It was a little frightening.
"You are allowed to feel, little flower. You are allowed to be, to be all the things you wish, it will not stop anything or anything else from being beautiful. It will only add to the joy you see in everything. Allow yourself to feel it all. be as enamored with it as you are with your colors and design, taste, and architecture. Let yourself feel everything and I will do my best to continue to protect you from any accident or harm that might befall you."
After that I knew Alejandro wouldn’t ever let me harm anyone if he could prevent it, he may be a mostly dour unfeeling man but I knew that he truly took his duty to keep me and those around me safe very seriously. And I have almost never forgotten to let myself feel ever since...
Some overcame the loss of a sensation but I had not lost my sense of touch. My ability to feel. Instead.. I had to clothe it. To wrap myself so that she could not harm others. The fever-pitched faces of loved ones who'd gotten too close or somehow otherwise been exposed to my poison had each been devastating. One had almost died! I sulked in my room at the Villas in Tor. I'd been that way for over a month and it had been far, far too long for Alejandro's liking. If for no other reason than he was getting tired of standing outside my door and waiting to move like a well-trained dog.
"Because you cannot touch a rose, can you not appreciate its beauty?" The gruff Torean asked me. He was over twice my age and he had been there that night on the deserted beach when it had been Fidante, not my mother, that had come to collect me. "Because you cannot /be/ a noble does that mean you cannot /be/ noble? Come, little flower, try not to let the world get you down. For it is beautiful... this whole world is beautiful and you can be beautiful in it without touch. Without being touched."
I didn't cry even though I wished it. It was simply a rule. No tears, no surprise, no anxiety, or reason to sweat, no harm, no spilt blood. Perfect restrained poise that would not allow ANY mistake, any folly that would come of someone accidentally contacting or ingesting the poison that seeped from my very being. But my sullen episodes were epic and this one was no different... I barely spoke and just stared out her window at the people in their gorgeous frocks strolling through the garden below, the blossoms like colorful jewels sparkling in the sun. Loving them and being angry at them all at once.
"Can you feel the silk?" He changed his tactic. This man’s presence had become more like family over time. And thus over sixteen years they had become my beloved ‘Uncle Alejandro’ and I like his Niece. But ‘Jandro He was a good enough soldier to know when an Uncle was needed.
"The breath of lace across your wrist. The embrace of your sea silk gloves or the tickle of fur across your cheek when you wear your fur-lined cloak?" I remember turning towards him, eyes focused almost too intently, they felt like they were burning. He could see that I hadn't been sleeping and said I had less color in my cheeks. "You once told me that you didn't want to die just because you were ‘supposed to’. You are not dead.. you simply cannot touch someone who cannot resist your toxin. But you’re different. There are people out there who shouldn't be touched because they're more poisonous than you could ever be. You do not deserve a fate like them. Your heart is good and you see art and beauty in even the simplest things. You have always been special in that way. You genuinely love the pretty things you are given.” He gestured out the window, “You move the way they move and look. But you forget that because you think you are not allowed to touch, and that means you think that you are not allowed to feel. Do you think all these gifts should not be appreciated in every way?"
Carefully he reached down and picked up the edge of my fur-lined cloak and lifted it to brush against my cheek. "Can you feel that?" I nodded and the Champion smiled, an expression that threatened to crack his stony features. It was a little frightening.
"You are allowed to feel, little flower. You are allowed to be, to be all the things you wish, it will not stop anything or anything else from being beautiful. It will only add to the joy you see in everything. Allow yourself to feel it all. be as enamored with it as you are with your colors and design, taste, and architecture. Let yourself feel everything and I will do my best to continue to protect you from any accident or harm that might befall you."
After that I knew Alejandro wouldn’t ever let me harm anyone if he could prevent it, he may be a mostly dour unfeeling man but I knew that he truly took his duty to keep me and those around me safe very seriously. And I have almost never forgotten to let myself feel ever since...
Written By Aconite
Jan. 16, 2024, 9:37 p.m.(7/25/1021 AR)
From my Whites as a child:
They had told her to wait.
She stood, her tattered linen dress fluttering at her feet. She scrubbed an eye that burned from the smoke of the torch that burned next to her. Watching the strange floating orange whisps, the approaching light of torches, marching past the cove where the ships bobbed in moonlit waters.
They had said that this is where her mother would come to fetch her.
Her mother who had braided her hair and taught her silly dances that she said would be less silly when she grew into them. Long fingers and almost serpentine orange-gold eyes that greeted her every morning and put her to sleep every night. Her mother more than any one place her father had seized or lost was her home.
And so she stood obediently and waiting. She wanted to see her mother again, to be able to touch her face. To be comforted by that dark brown smell, both bitter and sweet. A darkly fruity scent that was reminiscent of treacle, plum, and figs. Warm. The smell of the resin her mother would burn to drive away from the fetid smells of warriors after battle...
Her mouth pursed in disconcertion as a child's intuition told her that those torches were not her Mother. There were too many and none of them were running to her! They were all moving.. too slow. Her lower lip quivered and she felt the fat tears threatening to run down her cheeks. But those were sacred things her mother had always said and so with a snorking-snuffle which drew a soft chuckle from the Champion left to guard her. Aconite drug her arm under her nose and hugged herself waiting to see who was going to come to greet her...
The man in the front wore the Fidante Crest, the white sword and roses. The men who had taken her originally. She turned liquid black eyes up at the stone-faced man and her fists balled, her chin raised high...
-----
She was warm in a cabin. Tucked in blankets, bathed, and given fresh warm clothes. Despite herself, the soft lull of the sea under the bow of the ship rocked her to sleep and wondered what life had in store and she dreamed of warm amber eyes and gentle fingers petting her hair as she slept.
-----
She only got sick after -leaving- the boat. The air was different, the water was different, everything was /different/ and the world weaved around her. She hung over the edge of the pier to empty the remaining rations she'd scarfed for breakfast into the sea.
The man, Alejandro, who had been assigned to attend to her gently nudged her shoulder once she was done and 'Aconite' stood and followed.
She wanted, very much, to -hate- this place. She wanted to hate everything about it. From their stupid gorgeous roses to their bedamned passion for life. They hadn't even gotten to the Villa yet when Aconite had already nearly run into two people and tripped over a cat because she was so distracted by the gardens, FLOWERS and the foreign designs and fabrics that seemed unreal to her inexperienced eyes.
Alejandro led Aco in through the scullery. gently nudging her to have a seat at a table while he went off to report to his superiors they had arrived. She lifted her hands, carefully bound in rags as if she'd been burned, to rest on the table as her booted feet scuffed. Tears threatened again but she sunk her teeth into her cheek to keep herself from crying, resulting in a particularly ludicrous expression.
The kitchens were his 'domain' in those days- His Mama had started working for the Fidante as a scullery maid two winters prior and by the time Aconite arrived he was already a common part of the household staff. He was a precocious young man with a knack for herbs and a head for books, one who was invested in learning how to help people.
At an age when play begins to wane and real responsibility starts to rear its head, that's when he met Aconite, she looked so small and she was clearly sick from the sea... he had heard that long sea journeys were dangerous. He marveled that this little person had made it across so vast a thing and he spoke softly to her as he looked through jar after jar, glancing over his shoulder in his efforts to find her something for that stomach ache.
It wasn't his place to give her the sprig of mint but Orick never did know how to follow ALL the rules and he set it down on the table with a promise, "Chew on this and plug your finger over your left ear-" Pointing to the left side of her head. "It'll make your tummy feel better." In case she didn't understand he mimed the act with animated flair and tried to make her smile despite her discomfort...
He was older than her but he was scrawny. And he was talking to her in a language she didn't understand but Aco could recognize someone who wanted to be helpful. She shoved the heel of her hand into one eye and sullenly scrubbed at it until it stopped threatening to spill tears.
Aco was quiet, her large endless black eyes investigating everything in this strange kitchen. The weird smells were distracting but not unpleasant. And the strange smell from the jagged little green leaf Orick held out to her made her tilt her head. It took a few tries but finally, 'chew' followed by the Young Apothecary putting his hand to his mouth she took the leaf and repeated, 'chew.' She wasn't sure why her finger had to go into her ear but she figured it was some sort of custom so she complied. He had made such a little play of it.
The sound of adult footsteps scared him off and he sent her a promising smile before running off to hide in a pantry down the hall and listen to the adults discuss her fate.
She kept chewing even as Orick scampered off to hide she thought this was part of the game. Hunt and Hide was a game she knew how to play! She scampered over to a low counter that had bags of grain on it and wedged herself under it to peer out. But what were they hiding from?
They had told her to wait.
She stood, her tattered linen dress fluttering at her feet. She scrubbed an eye that burned from the smoke of the torch that burned next to her. Watching the strange floating orange whisps, the approaching light of torches, marching past the cove where the ships bobbed in moonlit waters.
They had said that this is where her mother would come to fetch her.
Her mother who had braided her hair and taught her silly dances that she said would be less silly when she grew into them. Long fingers and almost serpentine orange-gold eyes that greeted her every morning and put her to sleep every night. Her mother more than any one place her father had seized or lost was her home.
And so she stood obediently and waiting. She wanted to see her mother again, to be able to touch her face. To be comforted by that dark brown smell, both bitter and sweet. A darkly fruity scent that was reminiscent of treacle, plum, and figs. Warm. The smell of the resin her mother would burn to drive away from the fetid smells of warriors after battle...
Her mouth pursed in disconcertion as a child's intuition told her that those torches were not her Mother. There were too many and none of them were running to her! They were all moving.. too slow. Her lower lip quivered and she felt the fat tears threatening to run down her cheeks. But those were sacred things her mother had always said and so with a snorking-snuffle which drew a soft chuckle from the Champion left to guard her. Aconite drug her arm under her nose and hugged herself waiting to see who was going to come to greet her...
The man in the front wore the Fidante Crest, the white sword and roses. The men who had taken her originally. She turned liquid black eyes up at the stone-faced man and her fists balled, her chin raised high...
-----
She was warm in a cabin. Tucked in blankets, bathed, and given fresh warm clothes. Despite herself, the soft lull of the sea under the bow of the ship rocked her to sleep and wondered what life had in store and she dreamed of warm amber eyes and gentle fingers petting her hair as she slept.
-----
She only got sick after -leaving- the boat. The air was different, the water was different, everything was /different/ and the world weaved around her. She hung over the edge of the pier to empty the remaining rations she'd scarfed for breakfast into the sea.
The man, Alejandro, who had been assigned to attend to her gently nudged her shoulder once she was done and 'Aconite' stood and followed.
She wanted, very much, to -hate- this place. She wanted to hate everything about it. From their stupid gorgeous roses to their bedamned passion for life. They hadn't even gotten to the Villa yet when Aconite had already nearly run into two people and tripped over a cat because she was so distracted by the gardens, FLOWERS and the foreign designs and fabrics that seemed unreal to her inexperienced eyes.
Alejandro led Aco in through the scullery. gently nudging her to have a seat at a table while he went off to report to his superiors they had arrived. She lifted her hands, carefully bound in rags as if she'd been burned, to rest on the table as her booted feet scuffed. Tears threatened again but she sunk her teeth into her cheek to keep herself from crying, resulting in a particularly ludicrous expression.
The kitchens were his 'domain' in those days- His Mama had started working for the Fidante as a scullery maid two winters prior and by the time Aconite arrived he was already a common part of the household staff. He was a precocious young man with a knack for herbs and a head for books, one who was invested in learning how to help people.
At an age when play begins to wane and real responsibility starts to rear its head, that's when he met Aconite, she looked so small and she was clearly sick from the sea... he had heard that long sea journeys were dangerous. He marveled that this little person had made it across so vast a thing and he spoke softly to her as he looked through jar after jar, glancing over his shoulder in his efforts to find her something for that stomach ache.
It wasn't his place to give her the sprig of mint but Orick never did know how to follow ALL the rules and he set it down on the table with a promise, "Chew on this and plug your finger over your left ear-" Pointing to the left side of her head. "It'll make your tummy feel better." In case she didn't understand he mimed the act with animated flair and tried to make her smile despite her discomfort...
He was older than her but he was scrawny. And he was talking to her in a language she didn't understand but Aco could recognize someone who wanted to be helpful. She shoved the heel of her hand into one eye and sullenly scrubbed at it until it stopped threatening to spill tears.
Aco was quiet, her large endless black eyes investigating everything in this strange kitchen. The weird smells were distracting but not unpleasant. And the strange smell from the jagged little green leaf Orick held out to her made her tilt her head. It took a few tries but finally, 'chew' followed by the Young Apothecary putting his hand to his mouth she took the leaf and repeated, 'chew.' She wasn't sure why her finger had to go into her ear but she figured it was some sort of custom so she complied. He had made such a little play of it.
The sound of adult footsteps scared him off and he sent her a promising smile before running off to hide in a pantry down the hall and listen to the adults discuss her fate.
She kept chewing even as Orick scampered off to hide she thought this was part of the game. Hunt and Hide was a game she knew how to play! She scampered over to a low counter that had bags of grain on it and wedged herself under it to peer out. But what were they hiding from?
Written By Aconite
Jan. 16, 2024, 3:37 p.m.(7/25/1021 AR)
I will tell my story as many have been.
From what a small Aconite wrote in her whites at the behest of House Fidante recalled and in my memories now my early life was loud. Sheltered in a small but colorful tent with a woman I remember had bright coppery-orange eyes. Laughing and playful, bright and shiny like coins. I remember that I thought she was beautiful. She wore jewel tones, mostly yellows and oranges. They would flicker like fire when we danced. She taught me, I think, to distract me from the sounds of the injured, sick or dying in the man I believed was my fathers war camp. She irned thornbush resin to cover the smells of the war camp. We spoke in Rex'alfar and she gace me a book that i kept with me always and still.hace to this day, describing the Cities of Eurus.. Pre Dune Emperor.
Its hard to say of the beleief that they were going to take me somewhere and perform th dark ritual what wipes a soul completely from existence in exchange for power..
Knowing what I do now makes it less far fetched. They could have also been taking me to the being that created me. Either way Fidante's faithful officers too me to save me from my fate.. death or obliteration. I was the gifted a life and allowed to make it my very own. I promised myself I would not waste any of it.
Either way that is how it all started...
I remember staring into the night as a young Alejandro, just freshly enlisted in Fidante's naval division, held my small hand and spoke softly to me in a language I did not know... but I new that he was trying to show me kindness.
He called me Aconite. And so my name, the Tahjara'al'sindhi was no more...
From what a small Aconite wrote in her whites at the behest of House Fidante recalled and in my memories now my early life was loud. Sheltered in a small but colorful tent with a woman I remember had bright coppery-orange eyes. Laughing and playful, bright and shiny like coins. I remember that I thought she was beautiful. She wore jewel tones, mostly yellows and oranges. They would flicker like fire when we danced. She taught me, I think, to distract me from the sounds of the injured, sick or dying in the man I believed was my fathers war camp. She irned thornbush resin to cover the smells of the war camp. We spoke in Rex'alfar and she gace me a book that i kept with me always and still.hace to this day, describing the Cities of Eurus.. Pre Dune Emperor.
Its hard to say of the beleief that they were going to take me somewhere and perform th dark ritual what wipes a soul completely from existence in exchange for power..
Knowing what I do now makes it less far fetched. They could have also been taking me to the being that created me. Either way Fidante's faithful officers too me to save me from my fate.. death or obliteration. I was the gifted a life and allowed to make it my very own. I promised myself I would not waste any of it.
Either way that is how it all started...
I remember staring into the night as a young Alejandro, just freshly enlisted in Fidante's naval division, held my small hand and spoke softly to me in a language I did not know... but I new that he was trying to show me kindness.
He called me Aconite. And so my name, the Tahjara'al'sindhi was no more...
Written By Aconite
Jan. 15, 2024, 1:50 p.m.(7/22/1021 AR)
I feel as if I am to live and die alone. It is for the best.
When I die my blacks may be made public. I did not really trust them once I knew what lay beneath the library. So they won't say much.
When I die my blacks may be made public. I did not really trust them once I knew what lay beneath the library. So they won't say much.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 12, 2024, 7:59 p.m.(7/17/1021 AR)
All my pretty and fashionable possessions have been tucked away in my old Chambers within the Villa.
All of the fashion and knick-knacks Whisper has collected have been stored as well.
Both are to be returned to Whisper House and the Whispers as soon as it is safe.
All of the fashion and knick-knacks Whisper has collected have been stored as well.
Both are to be returned to Whisper House and the Whispers as soon as it is safe.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 10, 2024, 3:08 p.m.(7/12/1021 AR)
Worshipping requires action. It does not need belief or attachment to be practiced.
Devotion is similar to worship, but requires no action because it comes from the soul.
Devotion is similar to worship, but requires no action because it comes from the soul.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 9, 2024, 10:44 p.m.(7/11/1021 AR)
I see a path now. All that my House has done for me seemed to be impossible to give back..
Now I see a way.
Now I see a way.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 5, 2024, 1:48 p.m.(7/2/1021 AR)
Deep Personal Harm, physical, mental and emotional is on the horizon.
Can we hold together when the truth is held up before the light?
I'm not scared of it anymore.
Not after these last few years...
Can we hold together when the truth is held up before the light?
I'm not scared of it anymore.
Not after these last few years...
Written By Aconite
Dec. 30, 2023, 7:20 p.m.(6/19/1021 AR)
It is my dearest hope that people find it in themselves in this chaotic time to take time out for small acts of kindness.
It's these that will hold us together.
It's these that will hold us together.
Written By Aconite
Dec. 27, 2023, 9:04 p.m.(6/13/1021 AR)
I have not forgotten.
I will never forget where I came from even if I cannot remember who I am.
I love you all so dearly.
Break free.
Escape.
Search.
Find.
A life entirely your own.
I will find a way to aid you.
We will find a way to break His altar.
I am tired of Tyrants.
I will never forget where I came from even if I cannot remember who I am.
I love you all so dearly.
Break free.
Escape.
Search.
Find.
A life entirely your own.
I will find a way to aid you.
We will find a way to break His altar.
I am tired of Tyrants.
Written By Aconite
Dec. 23, 2023, 12:18 p.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
I witness them now, so vividly. The tales of people, I know and even those unknown, unfold before my eyes in radiant, glorious detail. It's crucial not to blink, Sisters, Brothers, Kin, and Kindred Spirits, lest we miss these moments. This is the forge where legends are born. As individuals scribe their farewells, chronicles, anthems, and parting words, it falls upon us, the observers, to Understand. To Recollect. To strive to break the cycle of history. To ensure that no sacrifice fades into obscurity and that those sacrifices gleam brightly to those in the present and future.
These narratives, these lives we witness, become ours to narrate when they cannot be told by the heroes themselves. Some will argue that this is not the case, that this is not what they are or what they meant to become or how people should think of them. Thankfully one becoming a hero isn't the choice of the actor but rather of the observer.
There was a time I misconstrued retreating from a battle one couldn't sway as a cowardly act. Now I comprehend better; the warriors on the battlefield exhibit courage, significance, and unquestionably, selflessness. Those of us entrusted to remember and safeguard the hearts and homes of the non-combatants must also embody bravery. Hearts will fracture, tears will cascade, but we bear a responsibility to persist, remember, and impart their stories.
Whatever comes I am ready to face it and for once in my life I know I am not alone.
These narratives, these lives we witness, become ours to narrate when they cannot be told by the heroes themselves. Some will argue that this is not the case, that this is not what they are or what they meant to become or how people should think of them. Thankfully one becoming a hero isn't the choice of the actor but rather of the observer.
There was a time I misconstrued retreating from a battle one couldn't sway as a cowardly act. Now I comprehend better; the warriors on the battlefield exhibit courage, significance, and unquestionably, selflessness. Those of us entrusted to remember and safeguard the hearts and homes of the non-combatants must also embody bravery. Hearts will fracture, tears will cascade, but we bear a responsibility to persist, remember, and impart their stories.
Whatever comes I am ready to face it and for once in my life I know I am not alone.
Written By Aconite
Dec. 1, 2023, 11:47 p.m.(4/17/1021 AR)
I'm so happy for the new warmth of spring. It helps to brighten a world that just months ago seemed to be getting washed out into black and white. I would do well to remember that there are more colors in the world than I can ever see...
And that is why it's beautiful.
And that is why it's beautiful.
Written By Aconite
Nov. 22, 2023, 3:07 p.m.(3/26/1021 AR)
Winter cannot end quickly enough. I say this despite feeling as if I've so much to do in so little time. I'm excited to help Lady Acheron and Lady Medeia with the upcoming grand event to be held at Aviaron's Peak. I barely have time to design a dress for the event but I will.
Something has been gnawing at me lately but I cannot put my finger on it. Perhaps it's the looming threats from the North or perhaps it's just an aching need to look inward.
None the less I wish Winter should pass soon; they say freezing to death is the best way to die.
Something has been gnawing at me lately but I cannot put my finger on it. Perhaps it's the looming threats from the North or perhaps it's just an aching need to look inward.
None the less I wish Winter should pass soon; they say freezing to death is the best way to die.
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