Written By Dafne
July 11, 2018, 12:03 p.m.(3/4/1009 AR)
Of course Nightshade, the unofficial First Cat of Gemecitta, is good luck.
You can try to tell her otherwise if you wish. Be careful, her claws are sharp.
You can try to tell her otherwise if you wish. Be careful, her claws are sharp.
Written By Dafne
Jan. 26, 2018, 12:30 p.m.(1/15/1008 AR)
I think if I was a flower, I'd like to be deadly nightshade.
Written By Dafne
Dec. 1, 2017, 2:40 p.m.(9/10/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Quenia
My dear Quenia - You are Marquessa now. Certainly it is your duty to marry for the good for your domain (as it is mine for the same reasons), but neither is it your family's place to pressure you into marriage, especially as you are hardly in a desperate position for heirs. If they become too insistent, I suggest tapping them lightly across the nose with a rolled up scroll, as one might with a misbehaving puppy.
That said, let me remind you of this: you are not your mother. Neither are you your brothers, as much as I adored them. You are yourself, in all the best ways, and any man worthy of sitting next to you will see that.
(Sometimes I swear I sound fifty instead of nineteen when I write these things. I blame it on the ducal ring; it's very heavy. Come have a drink sometime.)
That said, let me remind you of this: you are not your mother. Neither are you your brothers, as much as I adored them. You are yourself, in all the best ways, and any man worthy of sitting next to you will see that.
(Sometimes I swear I sound fifty instead of nineteen when I write these things. I blame it on the ducal ring; it's very heavy. Come have a drink sometime.)
Written By Dafne
Nov. 8, 2017, 7:10 p.m.(7/18/1007 AR)
Today I have learnt there is no precedent for a domain being ruled by two rulers of equal rank.
How very odd. I was under the impression I was part of a co-rulership of two ducal families that goes back generations. Certainly one would think Lycenes, at least, would know this. I admit it distresses me to find such a lack of awareness.
Are we too quiet of late? Should I run an advertising campaign? Pen a (scandalous, certainly) play about the face-off that founded Gemecitta? Hire a bard to sing our history? Invite my fellow nobles to vacation in beautiful Gemecitta and alternate between the Quartz Hill of the Rubinos and the Crowned Hill of the Zaffrias?
(I always thought the Crowned Hill the prettier. Sssh, don't tell Duchess Grazia.)
How very odd. I was under the impression I was part of a co-rulership of two ducal families that goes back generations. Certainly one would think Lycenes, at least, would know this. I admit it distresses me to find such a lack of awareness.
Are we too quiet of late? Should I run an advertising campaign? Pen a (scandalous, certainly) play about the face-off that founded Gemecitta? Hire a bard to sing our history? Invite my fellow nobles to vacation in beautiful Gemecitta and alternate between the Quartz Hill of the Rubinos and the Crowned Hill of the Zaffrias?
(I always thought the Crowned Hill the prettier. Sssh, don't tell Duchess Grazia.)
Written By Dafne
Aug. 1, 2017, 1:57 p.m.(12/11/1006 AR)
Once, as a little girl in the Lyceum, I went swimming and ended up in the middle of a pod of dolphins.
Not by accident. It was completely on porpoise.
Not by accident. It was completely on porpoise.
Written By Dafne
July 16, 2017, 11:43 p.m.(11/7/1006 AR)
Archlector Aureth is readily available, but if anyone has questions about the Queen and Her worship, and he is not available, please, feel free to talk to me. I can't promise bad puns, or even good puns, but I'm working on that part.
Please specify whether you wish to speak to me as a Harlequin of Death or the Duchess of Gemecitta. I think if I get my roles confused, it might get very weird.
Note: Please be kind to your friendly neighbourhood spiders.
Please specify whether you wish to speak to me as a Harlequin of Death or the Duchess of Gemecitta. I think if I get my roles confused, it might get very weird.
Note: Please be kind to your friendly neighbourhood spiders.
Written By Dafne
July 6, 2017, 8:39 p.m.(10/15/1006 AR)
I must admit that one of the most attractive qualities a person can have is the ability to stand before the world, look it in the eye, and say, "I am sorry. I made a mistake. I will do what I can to make amends."
Although, failing such an opportunity, the ability to look idiots in the eye and mete out common sense is also disturbingly attractive.
Although, failing such an opportunity, the ability to look idiots in the eye and mete out common sense is also disturbingly attractive.
Written By Dafne
June 17, 2017, 6:58 p.m.(9/3/1006 AR)
Every death is a new beginning.
I know what doesn't help sometimes. I know that when loss and pain are raw and fresh, anything said to you, no matter how wise and well-meaning, sounds trite and insulting. But it helped me, later. When the first shock had faded and I was wondering: What is left to me now?
Whenever anything ends, something else begins. When something is lost, something is, also, gained. The Goddess of Death, the Queen of Endings, is also the Mother of New Beginnings, ushering new souls into the world.
That doesn't mean we shouldn't grieve. When the old gives way to the new, the world changes and nothing will ever be the same. It's natural and normal to grieve what was lost. Nor does it ever mean we should become complacent about the cycle of loss and gain, because a new beginning is an opportunity, not a guarantee. It is what we make of it.
But when other lives end--remember, ours does not. It is our chance to build something new.
This helped me immensely. This is why I became one of Death's disciples.
I only hope, in time, it will help others, too.
I know what doesn't help sometimes. I know that when loss and pain are raw and fresh, anything said to you, no matter how wise and well-meaning, sounds trite and insulting. But it helped me, later. When the first shock had faded and I was wondering: What is left to me now?
Whenever anything ends, something else begins. When something is lost, something is, also, gained. The Goddess of Death, the Queen of Endings, is also the Mother of New Beginnings, ushering new souls into the world.
That doesn't mean we shouldn't grieve. When the old gives way to the new, the world changes and nothing will ever be the same. It's natural and normal to grieve what was lost. Nor does it ever mean we should become complacent about the cycle of loss and gain, because a new beginning is an opportunity, not a guarantee. It is what we make of it.
But when other lives end--remember, ours does not. It is our chance to build something new.
This helped me immensely. This is why I became one of Death's disciples.
I only hope, in time, it will help others, too.
Written By Dafne
May 28, 2017, 11:53 p.m.(7/18/1006 AR)
I have not had much experience with babies. They seem--very little, really. Little and red.
But--it is amazing, is it not? So new, so little. Such a tiny little life, where nothing existed before.
New beginnings. Beginnings where before there were ends.
Thank you, Lady of Endings and Beginnings.
But--it is amazing, is it not? So new, so little. Such a tiny little life, where nothing existed before.
New beginnings. Beginnings where before there were ends.
Thank you, Lady of Endings and Beginnings.
Written By Dafne
May 22, 2017, 12:14 a.m.(7/4/1006 AR)
There have been a great many large events of late that I have--not gone to, I admit. Or appeared and snuck away from. I feel somewhat ashamed of this; I am a duchess now and surely Gemecitta deserves better than one that avoids grand occasions.
Some of it is this--most are celebrations, and I do not feel like celebrating. Yes, the fact we defeated Brand, averted the Silence and saved the city and the world is good. I know it is. But I cannot seem to make myself _feel_ celebratory. Too much has been lost, and it weighs on me heavily. To dance and sing and laugh seems almost impossible.
And there is this--I am no good in crowds. I never have been. Sylvie--Sylvie is amazing. She can command a room, all dazzle and flirt until all were under her spell. I hid in dark corners, tongue-tied, until Pietro or someone rescued me. It was one of those things I thought would be easier as I got older, but it never did, just as I never did have a five inch growth spurt.
Perhaps the key is to wear something absolutely stunning, and say very little, and generally pretend to be a lady of mystery like in a dramatic novel. I think I might need more dark secrets for that to work, however.
Some of it is this--most are celebrations, and I do not feel like celebrating. Yes, the fact we defeated Brand, averted the Silence and saved the city and the world is good. I know it is. But I cannot seem to make myself _feel_ celebratory. Too much has been lost, and it weighs on me heavily. To dance and sing and laugh seems almost impossible.
And there is this--I am no good in crowds. I never have been. Sylvie--Sylvie is amazing. She can command a room, all dazzle and flirt until all were under her spell. I hid in dark corners, tongue-tied, until Pietro or someone rescued me. It was one of those things I thought would be easier as I got older, but it never did, just as I never did have a five inch growth spurt.
Perhaps the key is to wear something absolutely stunning, and say very little, and generally pretend to be a lady of mystery like in a dramatic novel. I think I might need more dark secrets for that to work, however.
Written By Dafne
May 12, 2017, 3:05 p.m.(6/13/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Aureth
Having been acquainted with Archlector Aureth since the days I was wide-eyed and new to Arx, and he was telling fortunes for the nobility's amusement, I must note that he has always been very kind to me, and that he is about as spooky as a lapdog with a magnificent shiny coat that smiles too much.
(Do dogs smile? I don't know. I have a cat.)
So disappointing, I know. I love spooky.
(Do dogs smile? I don't know. I have a cat.)
So disappointing, I know. I love spooky.
Written By Dafne
May 7, 2017, 11:07 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
I am glad we are safe--for now. I am sorry for those who were lost. Too many; always too many. I miss--but there's no point in going over that again, is there?
But I am afraid, looking back, what I will remember about the climatic battle of the siege is this--the paralysing sense of helplessness, of uselessness. Of sitting in a room and trying to chat while others were fighting and dying.
I am a duchess, and a Zaffria, and I swear I will never feel so helpless and useless again.
But I am afraid, looking back, what I will remember about the climatic battle of the siege is this--the paralysing sense of helplessness, of uselessness. Of sitting in a room and trying to chat while others were fighting and dying.
I am a duchess, and a Zaffria, and I swear I will never feel so helpless and useless again.
Written By Dafne
April 16, 2017, 10:56 p.m.(4/14/1006 AR)
There are days I miss Gemecitta, my home. The city of white stone, warmed by the sun.
But it seems like the corruption that murdered Valkieri spread from there.
It's a life lesson, I think. Nowhere is safe.
Even I find that depressing.
But it seems like the corruption that murdered Valkieri spread from there.
It's a life lesson, I think. Nowhere is safe.
Even I find that depressing.
Written By Dafne
April 2, 2017, 11:47 p.m.(3/15/1006 AR)
It is so quiet. So far off from the battles and so empty. Every time a servant drops a glass, it rings through the halls like a bell, almost comforting in the stillness.
We have very good servants. They do not drop glasses often.
It will not always be like this, I know. After the siege--perhaps even before, with the harbour unblocked--family will come. There will be chatter and laughter again. The house will live.
In meantime I sit here, in the parlour, with my cat in my lap and Pietro's dog at my feet, in the silence and the stillness and pray for some friendly ghosts.
We have very good servants. They do not drop glasses often.
It will not always be like this, I know. After the siege--perhaps even before, with the harbour unblocked--family will come. There will be chatter and laughter again. The house will live.
In meantime I sit here, in the parlour, with my cat in my lap and Pietro's dog at my feet, in the silence and the stillness and pray for some friendly ghosts.
Written By Dafne
March 27, 2017, 4:11 p.m.(3/2/1006 AR)
Under different circumstances, I might have taken that meeting.
But I am still trying to catch up on paperwork, and the Seraph was Valkieri's friend, and most of Gemecitta still thinks of me as a little girl--
So much turns on little things sometimes.
The guards told me not to go in. They told me not to, but I did anyway. And I saw--
No. I can't describe it, because Cara will read this and she doesn't need to know. But I still see it when I close my eyes. All sorts of deaths can sound poetic, even beautiful when you write about them, but being faced with the reality of what violence does to the human body is very different.
I closed his eyes. I knelt on the floor and closed his eyes so he wouldn't stare sightlessly at the ceiling.
I cannot say Valkieri and I were ever close. Perhaps if he lived--but he could never believe I had grown up. He hated my cat and my stories and thought i was strange. But, beneath all his prickles and passion, he was _true_, truer than anyone I'd known. He was a rock, and he held the world in place. We are lesser for losing him.
Valkieri. Sylvie. Vincere. Pietro. So many gone. Almost all I think of as family.
Is Gemecitta cursed?
But I am still trying to catch up on paperwork, and the Seraph was Valkieri's friend, and most of Gemecitta still thinks of me as a little girl--
So much turns on little things sometimes.
The guards told me not to go in. They told me not to, but I did anyway. And I saw--
No. I can't describe it, because Cara will read this and she doesn't need to know. But I still see it when I close my eyes. All sorts of deaths can sound poetic, even beautiful when you write about them, but being faced with the reality of what violence does to the human body is very different.
I closed his eyes. I knelt on the floor and closed his eyes so he wouldn't stare sightlessly at the ceiling.
I cannot say Valkieri and I were ever close. Perhaps if he lived--but he could never believe I had grown up. He hated my cat and my stories and thought i was strange. But, beneath all his prickles and passion, he was _true_, truer than anyone I'd known. He was a rock, and he held the world in place. We are lesser for losing him.
Valkieri. Sylvie. Vincere. Pietro. So many gone. Almost all I think of as family.
Is Gemecitta cursed?
Written By Dafne
March 26, 2017, 11:48 p.m.(3/1/1006 AR)
It is quiet here, at the Palazzo. Too quiet. Sometimes I fancy I hear the sounds of battle: the clang of sword on sword, the snap of bowstrings, the groans of dying. I know I only imagine it. We are too far here.
I feel so useless. I am good for nothing but telling stories and petting kittens.
I wonder if Sylvie is out--in that. I wish I knew what took her, far away, to leave me. I always had here. She was here to chide me, but the chiding was only part of taking care of me, and we both knew that.
I should not be weak in public. I know that. But it is so hard to be strong sometimes.
<Beneath the entry, in very careful writing, as if someone had copied out something else:>
It was always meant to be you, Dafne; you are the true Zaffria duchess. You have more steel than anyone will ever give you credit for. Use that.
And, I love you. Always have, always will.
I feel so useless. I am good for nothing but telling stories and petting kittens.
I wonder if Sylvie is out--in that. I wish I knew what took her, far away, to leave me. I always had here. She was here to chide me, but the chiding was only part of taking care of me, and we both knew that.
I should not be weak in public. I know that. But it is so hard to be strong sometimes.
<Beneath the entry, in very careful writing, as if someone had copied out something else:>
It was always meant to be you, Dafne; you are the true Zaffria duchess. You have more steel than anyone will ever give you credit for. Use that.
And, I love you. Always have, always will.
Written By Dafne
March 5, 2017, 6:47 p.m.(1/14/1006 AR)
I had a good governess.
My mother, who was also Voice of Gemecitta once (and was, by what others said when they could bring themselves to speak of her, clever and charming and everything a Lycene noblewoman should be), died when I was born. My father remarried when I was still little more than a babe-in-arms and left me to Duke Marco and his duchess to raise. For all intents and purposes, I was raised as my cousin's much younger sister. I was given the same education as her--one suited to a future duchess.
I drove my governess to despair. She tried to teach me about duty and politics and law and all I wanted to do was read poetry and chase ghosts. She only looked more and more disappointed, and railed against me for never listening. Once she told me that filling my brain with cobwebs was a poor way to honour the gods who had given me such a fine one.
She was wrong, however. I did listen. I just didn't care.
This week it all came back to me. Years of tutorings, all the books I squinted at while trying to hide poetry and ghost stories behind them. All the things I must do, for Gemecitta, for my family, for my cousin.
I'm not sure I was meant for this either. Perhaps the gods who gave me a clever brain also gave me too soft a heart.
My mother, who was also Voice of Gemecitta once (and was, by what others said when they could bring themselves to speak of her, clever and charming and everything a Lycene noblewoman should be), died when I was born. My father remarried when I was still little more than a babe-in-arms and left me to Duke Marco and his duchess to raise. For all intents and purposes, I was raised as my cousin's much younger sister. I was given the same education as her--one suited to a future duchess.
I drove my governess to despair. She tried to teach me about duty and politics and law and all I wanted to do was read poetry and chase ghosts. She only looked more and more disappointed, and railed against me for never listening. Once she told me that filling my brain with cobwebs was a poor way to honour the gods who had given me such a fine one.
She was wrong, however. I did listen. I just didn't care.
This week it all came back to me. Years of tutorings, all the books I squinted at while trying to hide poetry and ghost stories behind them. All the things I must do, for Gemecitta, for my family, for my cousin.
I'm not sure I was meant for this either. Perhaps the gods who gave me a clever brain also gave me too soft a heart.
Written By Dafne
Feb. 27, 2017, 10:52 p.m.(1/3/1006 AR)
Pietro was my friend. He was kind and vivid and oh so alive.
He is not some name for people who barely knew him to invoke, to try to validate things he never would have.
He is not some name for people who barely knew him to invoke, to try to validate things he never would have.
Written By Dafne
Feb. 26, 2017, 11:52 p.m.(1/1/1006 AR)
I've never been good at parties. Too much in my head, I suppose. Too odd.
But I never realized how lost I was at them until I went to one without Pietro.
I miss you.
But I never realized how lost I was at them until I went to one without Pietro.
I miss you.
Written By Dafne
Feb. 22, 2017, 12:48 p.m.(12/20/1005 AR)
When I was younger, I very much wanted to be tall. Perhaps overwhelmingly, magnificently, awe-inspiringly tall like my almost-cousin Cara, or just modestly on the taller side like my willowy actual cousin Sylvie. To me, these ladies were the epitome of beauty and grace, and, besides, tragic heroines are always tall. It is difficult to be beautifully tragic if you are short and dumpy.
But as I grew--well, not up for the most part, but just grew--it became clear I was destined for a lifetime of staring at people's chests and being a rather awkward dance partner for strapping young men. My governess sought to reassure me by speaking of the advantage of being small, which is that no one can see you coming.
And then you can steal their kneecaps.
I think she may have been joking about the kneecap part.
But as I grew--well, not up for the most part, but just grew--it became clear I was destined for a lifetime of staring at people's chests and being a rather awkward dance partner for strapping young men. My governess sought to reassure me by speaking of the advantage of being small, which is that no one can see you coming.
And then you can steal their kneecaps.
I think she may have been joking about the kneecap part.
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