Written By Lenne
Jan. 28, 2020, 11:44 a.m.(8.78730076058201/24.08884259259259/1012.6489417300485 AR)
Relationship Note on Geralt
Everyone has at least one especially beloved and interesting uncle. I do believe this is a fact of life. Perhaps Aion always wished he had a someone to tell interesting stories and give him candy, and now, forever, the same story plays out in the Dream.
Well, mine has come to Arx, after a time away! Geralt Crovane!
No longer do we suffer in a world of Sir Jeffeths, and Marquis Magnuses, with no giant warriors of our own!
It's a very good time to have the Sword of Stormwall with us, here, for certain. Troubles and dangers abound. But I'll admit that I'm more excited about the childish glee offered by the chance to hear more stories involving giant squirrels, and pink bears. Old Lenne would doubtless has been too wound tight to admit to that. But New Lenne? Well, New Lenne will enjoy herself, far more shamelessly.
Well, mine has come to Arx, after a time away! Geralt Crovane!
No longer do we suffer in a world of Sir Jeffeths, and Marquis Magnuses, with no giant warriors of our own!
It's a very good time to have the Sword of Stormwall with us, here, for certain. Troubles and dangers abound. But I'll admit that I'm more excited about the childish glee offered by the chance to hear more stories involving giant squirrels, and pink bears. Old Lenne would doubtless has been too wound tight to admit to that. But New Lenne? Well, New Lenne will enjoy herself, far more shamelessly.
Written By Lenne
Jan. 26, 2020, 2:59 p.m.(8.654514302248678/23.652800925925924/1012.637876191854 AR)
It seems some new energy has infected the city. And maybe the world. A storm, following a lull. I suppose I'm grateful to have had quieter times to grow more used to my new life. Though if I will ever quite grow entirely comfortable here, we shall see. It provides so much more opportunity, but the vibrant social aspect of it remains difficult.
I've been lost in a mental haze of my own plans and goals, when I've not been getting battered, beaten, arrowed and sliced open, during the last month. But now this talk of Pravus' heroic actions has caught my attention, and provided a respite from obsession.
I have no great voice amongst the Peerage to sing their praises, so let this simple scholar use the Whites, to offer my voice to the roar of support.
Very well done, House Pravus! Great work has been done in the name of Skald, and for the simple good of humanity! You do yourselves remarkable credit.
I shall be looking out for a chance to put my meager coin and efforts to work, in helping those that have been recently emancipated, and shall be asking my betters in Crovane if we and our vassals can take up the task of finding some of them a new home, and a new start, if such is needed.
I've been lost in a mental haze of my own plans and goals, when I've not been getting battered, beaten, arrowed and sliced open, during the last month. But now this talk of Pravus' heroic actions has caught my attention, and provided a respite from obsession.
I have no great voice amongst the Peerage to sing their praises, so let this simple scholar use the Whites, to offer my voice to the roar of support.
Very well done, House Pravus! Great work has been done in the name of Skald, and for the simple good of humanity! You do yourselves remarkable credit.
I shall be looking out for a chance to put my meager coin and efforts to work, in helping those that have been recently emancipated, and shall be asking my betters in Crovane if we and our vassals can take up the task of finding some of them a new home, and a new start, if such is needed.
Written By Lenne
Jan. 23, 2020, 2 a.m.(8.401607142857143/16.490000000000002/1012.6168005952381 AR)
Relationship Note on Roran
I've not used a White to respond to a White before. Let's hope Archlector Roran is paying for the right services, to see mine.
You ask what the biggest change in our lives was. And how it affected us.
If one had asked, anything before four months ago, I'd have said the Burning of Stormwall, during the Gyre War. Were it not for that, I doubt I'd have been nearly so passionate about being a healer, and certainly wouldn't have my life's goals, as they are. Having one's home burn around you, and choking on the smoke, while people die to evil things just beyond the walls leaves an impression.
Now? I know the real change happened when I came to Arx.
The Burning was a direction. Arx was a change. Father told me more than once that Arx would chew me up. And it has, but not as he thought.
I have been reinvented as Lenne a half dozen times. Chewed up, sometimes, but just into a different, better shape.
I didn't have friends, to speak of, in Stormwall.
Now I have a host of people I trust with my life. And who trust me with the same.
I didn't think I would ever fall in love, in Stormwall.
Now I have. Head over heels. More than once.
I didn't have a clue, in Stormwall.
I suppose I still barely have more, in the grand scheme of things, but I do feel like quite an accomplished scholar, some days. Increasingly more days, even. People who know me are better armed with knowledge, for my presence.
I didn't do worthwhile things, in Stormwall.
I dreamed. But here I actually do the things I dreamed of. Here, I have gone out on adventures. I've seen incredible things. I've faced battles. I've uncovered ancient mysteries. I've saved lives.
I didn't trust myself, or believe in myself, in Stormwall.
Given all the rest, above? For once, I begin to think that maybe Lenne is worthwhile. That maybe my reach might not exceed my grasp. I dislike arrogance. But maybe a bit of pride is something I'll allow myself.
I ever keep Lagoma's teachings, in mind. Change is inevitable. Change for the better, growth, is what we must ever strive for. Arx hasn't just changed things for me. It has changed the nature of change. It has let me grow. It has burned away some of the dross, and left something better, behind. Warm hope springs, where I coldly despaired before.
You ask what the biggest change in our lives was. And how it affected us.
If one had asked, anything before four months ago, I'd have said the Burning of Stormwall, during the Gyre War. Were it not for that, I doubt I'd have been nearly so passionate about being a healer, and certainly wouldn't have my life's goals, as they are. Having one's home burn around you, and choking on the smoke, while people die to evil things just beyond the walls leaves an impression.
Now? I know the real change happened when I came to Arx.
The Burning was a direction. Arx was a change. Father told me more than once that Arx would chew me up. And it has, but not as he thought.
I have been reinvented as Lenne a half dozen times. Chewed up, sometimes, but just into a different, better shape.
I didn't have friends, to speak of, in Stormwall.
Now I have a host of people I trust with my life. And who trust me with the same.
I didn't think I would ever fall in love, in Stormwall.
Now I have. Head over heels. More than once.
I didn't have a clue, in Stormwall.
I suppose I still barely have more, in the grand scheme of things, but I do feel like quite an accomplished scholar, some days. Increasingly more days, even. People who know me are better armed with knowledge, for my presence.
I didn't do worthwhile things, in Stormwall.
I dreamed. But here I actually do the things I dreamed of. Here, I have gone out on adventures. I've seen incredible things. I've faced battles. I've uncovered ancient mysteries. I've saved lives.
I didn't trust myself, or believe in myself, in Stormwall.
Given all the rest, above? For once, I begin to think that maybe Lenne is worthwhile. That maybe my reach might not exceed my grasp. I dislike arrogance. But maybe a bit of pride is something I'll allow myself.
I ever keep Lagoma's teachings, in mind. Change is inevitable. Change for the better, growth, is what we must ever strive for. Arx hasn't just changed things for me. It has changed the nature of change. It has let me grow. It has burned away some of the dross, and left something better, behind. Warm hope springs, where I coldly despaired before.
Written By Lenne
Jan. 17, 2020, 9:21 p.m.(8/1/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Josephine
I did not know Josephine, save by reputation, and story, and the work of her craft. But one needs only to see the grieving city to know how much we have lost.
I don't know the exact circumstances of her passing, either. But I know enough, of the periphery, and from the Whites, to see that her passing was in the highest standards of honor, benevolence and heroism. It was a refutation to those who think that such things are the province only of us nobles, to be sure. When it comes to be our time to move on to our fate, or be spun back into the Wheel, we can do it no better than she did. She struck a great blow against evil and darkness. She protected all of us. She died for friends, and strangers. Highborn and humble. The Compact, and the Gods.
When my time comes, I can only hope it is in such a manner.
May the Queen give her the reward and rest she deserves.
I don't know the exact circumstances of her passing, either. But I know enough, of the periphery, and from the Whites, to see that her passing was in the highest standards of honor, benevolence and heroism. It was a refutation to those who think that such things are the province only of us nobles, to be sure. When it comes to be our time to move on to our fate, or be spun back into the Wheel, we can do it no better than she did. She struck a great blow against evil and darkness. She protected all of us. She died for friends, and strangers. Highborn and humble. The Compact, and the Gods.
When my time comes, I can only hope it is in such a manner.
May the Queen give her the reward and rest she deserves.
Written By Lenne
Jan. 10, 2020, 7:01 p.m.(7/15/1012 AR)
I will shortly be leaving on a military expedition. Knights. Abandoned. Unexplored lands. It's all very exciting!
More importantly, however, it is actual field experience. Well, at least this sort, I certainly have no shortage of experience simply traveling the wilds. I expect it will be easier than the time I had to set my own leg, splint it with sticks and hobble for countless miles to get home, that winter. But then, what isn't? At least this time I'll be prepared, and will be packing enough supplies to risk falling over backward (Well, perhaps a more manageable amount than that). To say nothing of being surrounded by extremely capable allies.
I'm still in rather a shabby state, in terms of my combat abilities, I'm sad to say. But I expect I'll be able to at least pull my weight as a medic, or scout. I don't expect a shaman will be terribly useful, especially outside of the North, and their version of Abandoned, but one never does know.
The hardest part, I expect, will be acting like a proper soldier or squire. Does one salute a lot? Bow? Grovel? Those aren't exactly well-practiced skills for a Ducal Lady. I'm sure nobody expects that from a medic, but it's perhaps something I should inquire about.
I wonder if we will be passing through the Telmarch? I'd be interested to see Mother's home.
More importantly, however, it is actual field experience. Well, at least this sort, I certainly have no shortage of experience simply traveling the wilds. I expect it will be easier than the time I had to set my own leg, splint it with sticks and hobble for countless miles to get home, that winter. But then, what isn't? At least this time I'll be prepared, and will be packing enough supplies to risk falling over backward (Well, perhaps a more manageable amount than that). To say nothing of being surrounded by extremely capable allies.
I'm still in rather a shabby state, in terms of my combat abilities, I'm sad to say. But I expect I'll be able to at least pull my weight as a medic, or scout. I don't expect a shaman will be terribly useful, especially outside of the North, and their version of Abandoned, but one never does know.
The hardest part, I expect, will be acting like a proper soldier or squire. Does one salute a lot? Bow? Grovel? Those aren't exactly well-practiced skills for a Ducal Lady. I'm sure nobody expects that from a medic, but it's perhaps something I should inquire about.
I wonder if we will be passing through the Telmarch? I'd be interested to see Mother's home.
Written By Lenne
Jan. 4, 2020, 1:56 p.m.(7/3/1012 AR)
I long for the time when my studies are complete, and I can share them in the Whites. Until that blessed day, I shall continue to share my life, instead.
Mother was a Telmar. This is an important point.
I'm not much of a noble, I often feel. But Mother did, at least, impart me with the importance of dignity, reserve, poise, and respect for the self that starts with respectability before others. Those are all fine things, but they don't really mix well when one was a wild child, who was more often in the woods than in Court. To say nothing of one who would rather have been in a library than around others, when not in those woods.
I don't like to think I'm frigid. I feel great warmth for people. Perhaps even too quickly for my own good. But expressing that has been a trial, given inexperience and far too much Oathlands reserve for a Northlander.
I've spoken about love (and kissing!), in these journals, in the hopes that my fumblings would be read by others in similar dire social straights, and encourage them. So in a similar vein, I will say this; we all need closeness. A hug, a held hand, a cuddle even, if one is feeling terribly bold. Love and affection and nearness unknots something inside of you. It makes everything else that much easier. It brings confidence, and contentedness. It makes it easier to forget, for a moment, your troubles. That's a comfort beyond price.
And it probably makes you much less of an ass. I've certainly had the displeasure of meeting a few people who could clearly use a hug, to alleviate their cynicism and unfriendliness and delight in cruelty.
I still have difficulty in touching, and even more in being touched. But every time I force myself to allow it, it gets easier. And every time it gets easier, it feels like more is right with the world, and the next becomes less of a trial. So find someone who cares, and reach out, even if it feels like the world will end if you try. Because it probably won't. If you can't do it for yourself, call it a service to Lagoma. The world will get better for it, and probably not just for you.
Mother was a Telmar. This is an important point.
I'm not much of a noble, I often feel. But Mother did, at least, impart me with the importance of dignity, reserve, poise, and respect for the self that starts with respectability before others. Those are all fine things, but they don't really mix well when one was a wild child, who was more often in the woods than in Court. To say nothing of one who would rather have been in a library than around others, when not in those woods.
I don't like to think I'm frigid. I feel great warmth for people. Perhaps even too quickly for my own good. But expressing that has been a trial, given inexperience and far too much Oathlands reserve for a Northlander.
I've spoken about love (and kissing!), in these journals, in the hopes that my fumblings would be read by others in similar dire social straights, and encourage them. So in a similar vein, I will say this; we all need closeness. A hug, a held hand, a cuddle even, if one is feeling terribly bold. Love and affection and nearness unknots something inside of you. It makes everything else that much easier. It brings confidence, and contentedness. It makes it easier to forget, for a moment, your troubles. That's a comfort beyond price.
And it probably makes you much less of an ass. I've certainly had the displeasure of meeting a few people who could clearly use a hug, to alleviate their cynicism and unfriendliness and delight in cruelty.
I still have difficulty in touching, and even more in being touched. But every time I force myself to allow it, it gets easier. And every time it gets easier, it feels like more is right with the world, and the next becomes less of a trial. So find someone who cares, and reach out, even if it feels like the world will end if you try. Because it probably won't. If you can't do it for yourself, call it a service to Lagoma. The world will get better for it, and probably not just for you.
Written By Lenne
Jan. 1, 2020, 2:53 a.m.(6/23/1012 AR)
I fear there's no denying that I've been in rather a black depression, of late. And I certainly have tried to deny it. I suppose it was bound to happen. As I was warned, Arx was a cruel place, to so naive a girl as I. I thought I was ready for that, but it struck from directions I didn't expect. Which is probably the point. I try to claw out of it, and write my journals to try to buoy myself, or goad myself into action, and sometimes it works, for a time. Mostly, it seems I just go right back under.
Things will not get better, if I hide.
All the things that are going so very right did not erase the thing that's a disaster.
Jules is undoubtedly correct, as he often is about these things. I'd best make the first move, to heal my broken heart, because it will not be coming, otherwise.
What use is pride, if you're miserable?
I may not have kicked the fences down, but they still need to be mended. And so I will try to at least start.
Things will not get better, if I hide.
All the things that are going so very right did not erase the thing that's a disaster.
Jules is undoubtedly correct, as he often is about these things. I'd best make the first move, to heal my broken heart, because it will not be coming, otherwise.
What use is pride, if you're miserable?
I may not have kicked the fences down, but they still need to be mended. And so I will try to at least start.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 27, 2019, 3:08 p.m.(6/14/1012 AR)
I fear I have become rather a homebody, in the last few weeks.
It is a very, very pleasant home, of course, but I think I'm beginning to bristle with the inactivity. After all the breakneck learning, and progress of the time before that, I feel just stuck. No matter the luxuries and wondrous people available, Lenne remains Lenne. And Lenne needs her obsessions.
I suppose my confidence is far more shaken than I like to admit, from events with the family. Large groups were always difficult, but now they seem utterly impossible to cope with. I feel even more of a sham when the topic drifts to important matters, so I'm left with inanities. I've always suffered under my worries, but it has never stopped me from facing spirits, or shavs, or the possibility of things malign.
If I can face peril and doom without flinching, why does simple scorn disarm me so thoroughly?
I live with a Mirrormask. Perhaps I should be using her skills to pierce past my own denials.
It is a very, very pleasant home, of course, but I think I'm beginning to bristle with the inactivity. After all the breakneck learning, and progress of the time before that, I feel just stuck. No matter the luxuries and wondrous people available, Lenne remains Lenne. And Lenne needs her obsessions.
I suppose my confidence is far more shaken than I like to admit, from events with the family. Large groups were always difficult, but now they seem utterly impossible to cope with. I feel even more of a sham when the topic drifts to important matters, so I'm left with inanities. I've always suffered under my worries, but it has never stopped me from facing spirits, or shavs, or the possibility of things malign.
If I can face peril and doom without flinching, why does simple scorn disarm me so thoroughly?
I live with a Mirrormask. Perhaps I should be using her skills to pierce past my own denials.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 21, 2019, 1:38 p.m.(6/2/1012 AR)
I've had the pleasure of moving into a home of very eligible young bachelorettes. A rather intimidating, but wonderful, cast of princesses, Whispers and also Sydney. What a powerful and dangerous group, we make! The city may not be ready for our like!
We're beautiful, we're young, we're brilliant, and we're single! Ish.
I really can't overstate my delight at this cast of characters Anisha has recruited into our feminine conspiracy. The best part of it isn't being surrounded by pretty and devilishly capable people. Though that is lovely, in itself. It's the fact that every one of us at least has the hobby of collecting information. So many keen minds for me to pick at my leisure!
Surely, somewhere along the way, my obsessions have pleased Vellichor. And he has seen fit to place me in the most heavenly spot on Arvum. And possibly the safest, judging by some of our housemates.
Take that, Father. The city may eat me alive, but I'll be very happy, very well-protected and well-informed while it does!
All of that aside, they're also people I am quickly coming to adore, each and every one. And perhaps best of all, they care for me in turn.
I've never had the opportunity to have my company feel so desired, and to feel so included.
I think I want to cry, just thinking of beautiful that is.
Lone Lenne is dead. Let us never speak of her again.
We're beautiful, we're young, we're brilliant, and we're single! Ish.
I really can't overstate my delight at this cast of characters Anisha has recruited into our feminine conspiracy. The best part of it isn't being surrounded by pretty and devilishly capable people. Though that is lovely, in itself. It's the fact that every one of us at least has the hobby of collecting information. So many keen minds for me to pick at my leisure!
Surely, somewhere along the way, my obsessions have pleased Vellichor. And he has seen fit to place me in the most heavenly spot on Arvum. And possibly the safest, judging by some of our housemates.
Take that, Father. The city may eat me alive, but I'll be very happy, very well-protected and well-informed while it does!
All of that aside, they're also people I am quickly coming to adore, each and every one. And perhaps best of all, they care for me in turn.
I've never had the opportunity to have my company feel so desired, and to feel so included.
I think I want to cry, just thinking of beautiful that is.
Lone Lenne is dead. Let us never speak of her again.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 19, 2019, 3 a.m.(5/25/1012 AR)
Things change. A dream begins and ends, or ends and begins.
Different, and the same.
There. I never did understand these vague, ominous and mystical-sounding styles of White, to mark an enormous change in one's life. It wasn't so hard, though.
Different, and the same.
There. I never did understand these vague, ominous and mystical-sounding styles of White, to mark an enormous change in one's life. It wasn't so hard, though.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 17, 2019, 4:53 a.m.(5/22/1012 AR)
I'm in love.
There's no denying it, anymore.
There was probably no denying it for a long time. I was sure nobody could love foolish Lenne Crovane. I was certain she'd never love in turn, for that would distract from her obsessions. But every day for the last weeks has chipped away at that surety. Every sweet moment since has thawed cool distance. And I find I can't just call it lust, or admiration, or infatuation anymore. It feels too wrong to my heart.
I long for someone's touch. I, a girl that has always been scared of contact.
I throw aside caution and stoic propriety. I, a girl who was raised as much by an Oathlander mother as a Northlander father.
I find myself craving warmth, and beauty, and giddy happiness. I, a girl who has ever been driven only by objective, and knowledge.
I'm ever driven to distraction, through the day, until I am reunited again. I, a girl who would always be called single-minded.
If I profess that Lagoma is dearest to my heart, of all the gods, how can I deny what makes my days so very much better? What makes me more complete?
I'm in love.
There's no denying it, anymore.
There was probably no denying it for a long time. I was sure nobody could love foolish Lenne Crovane. I was certain she'd never love in turn, for that would distract from her obsessions. But every day for the last weeks has chipped away at that surety. Every sweet moment since has thawed cool distance. And I find I can't just call it lust, or admiration, or infatuation anymore. It feels too wrong to my heart.
I long for someone's touch. I, a girl that has always been scared of contact.
I throw aside caution and stoic propriety. I, a girl who was raised as much by an Oathlander mother as a Northlander father.
I find myself craving warmth, and beauty, and giddy happiness. I, a girl who has ever been driven only by objective, and knowledge.
I'm ever driven to distraction, through the day, until I am reunited again. I, a girl who would always be called single-minded.
If I profess that Lagoma is dearest to my heart, of all the gods, how can I deny what makes my days so very much better? What makes me more complete?
I'm in love.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 15, 2019, 2:22 a.m.(5/17/1012 AR)
I had the pleasure of taking part in a knightly quest.
There was everything one would hope. Lost islands. Ancient, holy temples. Golden treasures. Adorable and clever otters. Mystical puzzles. Brave princes and princesses.
I think, however, that my favorite thing to take away from it has been a patch of mushrooms, found near a set of standing stones, on land holy to the Triad of Creation. I hope to see if Petal will help me transplant them to the Stone Grove.
Their spirits have the most wonderful little song, sung all in harmony, and made not of words, but of unity. They sing of the promise of joining their song, should you just take them into yourself.
Mostly, I find it pretty, and unique, and adorable. Hopefully the other shamans will too, and it will enrich the Grove.
I'm mostly not tempted to nibble on one and see what happens. After all, some mushrooms will kill you horribly with as little as that.
Still. Perhaps I should try to feed some to a mouse, to see what happens.
Maybe I'll get to hear a mouse sing, too.
There was everything one would hope. Lost islands. Ancient, holy temples. Golden treasures. Adorable and clever otters. Mystical puzzles. Brave princes and princesses.
I think, however, that my favorite thing to take away from it has been a patch of mushrooms, found near a set of standing stones, on land holy to the Triad of Creation. I hope to see if Petal will help me transplant them to the Stone Grove.
Their spirits have the most wonderful little song, sung all in harmony, and made not of words, but of unity. They sing of the promise of joining their song, should you just take them into yourself.
Mostly, I find it pretty, and unique, and adorable. Hopefully the other shamans will too, and it will enrich the Grove.
I'm mostly not tempted to nibble on one and see what happens. After all, some mushrooms will kill you horribly with as little as that.
Still. Perhaps I should try to feed some to a mouse, to see what happens.
Maybe I'll get to hear a mouse sing, too.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 13, 2019, 12:36 p.m.(5/14/1012 AR)
Sleep is the true healer, that puts all others to shame. Would that I had its power, as a mere Physician!
I suppose I shouldn't scrawl things into the Whites, when I am sick with grief, and worry, and fear.
Yet, it is also supposed to be a true accounting or our lives, preserved in Vellichor's name, so that other's may learn from our triumphs and follies. The night will be carried with me, I expect. It will become a part of my life, that will change its course. So does it not deserve to be there, even if it's embarrassing? I've always thought so. I've never been one for hiding anything but the glowing victories in the Blacks. Nobody's life is so smooth, as that, and so it should be made to appear so.
Yesterday, I had my first patient, for whom no help was possible. Whom I had to leave for the Queen of Endings, and whose loved one I had to break the news to.
Yesterday, I was in terror, that another person I'd cared for was being tortured, or killed, all because I had cared for them.
Next time, I think I'll just go home, where it is safe, and cry on someone warm, rather than go out on the town.
With composure regained, I feel more like Lenne. Lenne falls often, shamefully. Yet, she gets back up. She doesn't flee, and she doesn't give up in despair, and she certainly doesn't abandon her life's work, to fade into safe obscurity.
I suppose I shouldn't scrawl things into the Whites, when I am sick with grief, and worry, and fear.
Yet, it is also supposed to be a true accounting or our lives, preserved in Vellichor's name, so that other's may learn from our triumphs and follies. The night will be carried with me, I expect. It will become a part of my life, that will change its course. So does it not deserve to be there, even if it's embarrassing? I've always thought so. I've never been one for hiding anything but the glowing victories in the Blacks. Nobody's life is so smooth, as that, and so it should be made to appear so.
Yesterday, I had my first patient, for whom no help was possible. Whom I had to leave for the Queen of Endings, and whose loved one I had to break the news to.
Yesterday, I was in terror, that another person I'd cared for was being tortured, or killed, all because I had cared for them.
Next time, I think I'll just go home, where it is safe, and cry on someone warm, rather than go out on the town.
With composure regained, I feel more like Lenne. Lenne falls often, shamefully. Yet, she gets back up. She doesn't flee, and she doesn't give up in despair, and she certainly doesn't abandon her life's work, to fade into safe obscurity.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 13, 2019, 2:19 a.m.(5/13/1012 AR)
I have discovered a new breed of hurt, today.
If the sweet exultation of a kiss is worth of a White, why not this?
I've found an especially sharp breed of betrayal, where basic human kindness and sympathy is treated with black suspicion, and used as a justification to threaten harm and ruin. The symptoms of the emotion are a quick degradation of faith in one's fellow man, and the inherent goodness of those around you.
It's the brother to fear, that doing the work the gods demand of us, in being kind, and charitable and honorable to one another will be decried, and punished.
But, the question becomes, is it the world's problem, or mine?
Far wiser people than I have told me it's the latter. When a hero and knight confirms one to be spoiled and naive, so it must be.
The stubborn side of me rails, and screams that it is all my betters who are wrong, even so.
Vellichor, let me not suffer my foolish naivety, any longer. I desperately tire of it.
Foolish girls cannot fix the world. It isn't a children's story. So why do I try to live in one?
I joked to Maquessa Reigna about my reach, ever exceeding my grasp.
Let me be content to heal what I am allowed to heal, and fix what it is my ability to fix.
Lagoma, let me wake tomorrow, better than today, and less torn.
If the sweet exultation of a kiss is worth of a White, why not this?
I've found an especially sharp breed of betrayal, where basic human kindness and sympathy is treated with black suspicion, and used as a justification to threaten harm and ruin. The symptoms of the emotion are a quick degradation of faith in one's fellow man, and the inherent goodness of those around you.
It's the brother to fear, that doing the work the gods demand of us, in being kind, and charitable and honorable to one another will be decried, and punished.
But, the question becomes, is it the world's problem, or mine?
Far wiser people than I have told me it's the latter. When a hero and knight confirms one to be spoiled and naive, so it must be.
The stubborn side of me rails, and screams that it is all my betters who are wrong, even so.
Vellichor, let me not suffer my foolish naivety, any longer. I desperately tire of it.
Foolish girls cannot fix the world. It isn't a children's story. So why do I try to live in one?
I joked to Maquessa Reigna about my reach, ever exceeding my grasp.
Let me be content to heal what I am allowed to heal, and fix what it is my ability to fix.
Lagoma, let me wake tomorrow, better than today, and less torn.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 11, 2019, 2:44 a.m.(5/9/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Ras
I intended to write a long, boring reflection on my trials and troubles as a shaman.
Instead a very troubled boy fell into my lap.
Well, more punched me in the stomach, really. I can count the fingers on the bruise!
Ras has had a very poor time of it, lately. He lost his best friend, and lost his guiding light in life with him. He was attacked, and nearly killed. We all read these journals from a great distance. We see the scandals, and the politics. But the very human costs and ruin from them is often something hidden, or veiled. As a girl who lost people, in Stormwall, and then floundered for many years, angry, adrift, alone (also by my own choice), ineffective and haunted, I can relate to his troubles, I think.
I hope my words helped. I hope my urging to be that boy that looked on in sheer horror, after realizing he hurt me, helped. I hope he does lean harder upon those who dearly love him, and finds his way, as I did, when I finally abandoned my foolishly one-woman quest. I hope that I showed him, in even some tiny manner, that his life is not over, and that he may yet be surrounded by people that care.
He's a sweet, good-hearted boy. I saw that much in him. He's ruled too much by his passions, maybe, but with the right direction there is few stronger virtues than passion. His loyalty would make any Knight blush. So much good can come from a person like that!
I pray to Lagoma, to light the path toward a better tomorrow, for him, so he can walk it.
I pray to Vellichor, that he may know the steps to take.
I pray to Gild, that he may find charity and giving, as he struggles to rebuild his life, instead of scorn.
I pray to Jayus, to calm his troubled mind, and to let his rest, in the safety of my house, be sweet.
Instead a very troubled boy fell into my lap.
Well, more punched me in the stomach, really. I can count the fingers on the bruise!
Ras has had a very poor time of it, lately. He lost his best friend, and lost his guiding light in life with him. He was attacked, and nearly killed. We all read these journals from a great distance. We see the scandals, and the politics. But the very human costs and ruin from them is often something hidden, or veiled. As a girl who lost people, in Stormwall, and then floundered for many years, angry, adrift, alone (also by my own choice), ineffective and haunted, I can relate to his troubles, I think.
I hope my words helped. I hope my urging to be that boy that looked on in sheer horror, after realizing he hurt me, helped. I hope he does lean harder upon those who dearly love him, and finds his way, as I did, when I finally abandoned my foolishly one-woman quest. I hope that I showed him, in even some tiny manner, that his life is not over, and that he may yet be surrounded by people that care.
He's a sweet, good-hearted boy. I saw that much in him. He's ruled too much by his passions, maybe, but with the right direction there is few stronger virtues than passion. His loyalty would make any Knight blush. So much good can come from a person like that!
I pray to Lagoma, to light the path toward a better tomorrow, for him, so he can walk it.
I pray to Vellichor, that he may know the steps to take.
I pray to Gild, that he may find charity and giving, as he struggles to rebuild his life, instead of scorn.
I pray to Jayus, to calm his troubled mind, and to let his rest, in the safety of my house, be sweet.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 7, 2019, 5:02 a.m.(5/2/1012 AR)
Romance is difficult.
I begin to see why so many torrid dramas are written on the topic, that make it seem to swing wildly between a beautiful, heart-melting serenade, and a terrifying ride in a carriage snapped off its reins, and barrelling toward a cliff.
Behold the heroic trials of Lady Lenne Crovane, who now has poetry written about her inspiring qualities!
Also, dearest Brother, you are a knight-poet, who seeks to exemplify all the best virtues of the gods. You unflinchingly raise a sword against the dark and horrible things the rest of us dare not face. Evil men (or worse) seek your demise, and their attempts do not slow you. You fight not for glory, or for silver, but simply because it is The Right Thing To Do.
Face it, you're a hero.
You'd better figure out what pose you want your statue to be in. I recommend one looking longingly, but confidently into the distance, as if looking to a better tomorrow.
I begin to see why so many torrid dramas are written on the topic, that make it seem to swing wildly between a beautiful, heart-melting serenade, and a terrifying ride in a carriage snapped off its reins, and barrelling toward a cliff.
Behold the heroic trials of Lady Lenne Crovane, who now has poetry written about her inspiring qualities!
Also, dearest Brother, you are a knight-poet, who seeks to exemplify all the best virtues of the gods. You unflinchingly raise a sword against the dark and horrible things the rest of us dare not face. Evil men (or worse) seek your demise, and their attempts do not slow you. You fight not for glory, or for silver, but simply because it is The Right Thing To Do.
Face it, you're a hero.
You'd better figure out what pose you want your statue to be in. I recommend one looking longingly, but confidently into the distance, as if looking to a better tomorrow.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 5, 2019, 11:54 p.m.(4/27/1012 AR)
My thirteenth day in the city has come and gone, but I still feel like it's time to reflect and take stock.
The Lenne who arrived was a foolish girl.
I feel like I've very quickly become a foolish woman instead. A substantial improvement!
I made several absurd mistakes. But I'm making less, now.
I've learned more in the last month than in the last handful of years, and the path of my life grows clearer. I've gained the title of Squire, to add to my few accolades. It's a small thing, but a symbol of my dedication, in my eyes.
I've learned to kiss (And to those who, for some reason, read an unimportant girl's journals and feel compelled to send her letters, thank you for your offers to help me 'practice', but very no thank you.), and more besides. And so the part of a life beyond goals and quests and obsessions grows clearer too. I never thought that would be important. But I can't deny I feel so much less twisted into knots.
My brother actually asked me for help. Rysen. A great hero! Ha! Lenne Crovane proves useful to her family, after all!
And my sister-in-law Mikani gave me a gift. A beautiful gift. She seems to like me, though I could not say why.
Everything is dire. The world teeters. But I feel... peaceful.
Harried, but peaceful.
The Lenne who arrived was a foolish girl.
I feel like I've very quickly become a foolish woman instead. A substantial improvement!
I made several absurd mistakes. But I'm making less, now.
I've learned more in the last month than in the last handful of years, and the path of my life grows clearer. I've gained the title of Squire, to add to my few accolades. It's a small thing, but a symbol of my dedication, in my eyes.
I've learned to kiss (And to those who, for some reason, read an unimportant girl's journals and feel compelled to send her letters, thank you for your offers to help me 'practice', but very no thank you.), and more besides. And so the part of a life beyond goals and quests and obsessions grows clearer too. I never thought that would be important. But I can't deny I feel so much less twisted into knots.
My brother actually asked me for help. Rysen. A great hero! Ha! Lenne Crovane proves useful to her family, after all!
And my sister-in-law Mikani gave me a gift. A beautiful gift. She seems to like me, though I could not say why.
Everything is dire. The world teeters. But I feel... peaceful.
Harried, but peaceful.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 3, 2019, 11:49 a.m.(4/22/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Mirk
There is a certain serenity, to choices made.
I've been so frazzled, since I arrived. So undirected. That isn't the Lenne I know.
Lenne is a creature of goals. And I finally feel minimally educated enough to set myself to some, in confidence, at last.
It's a crushing weight, that I was only peripherally aware of, suddenly lifted. Today I wake and find I breathe easier.
Thank Vellichor for Elder Mirk Halfshav, for his wise guidance of a very lost girl. Thank the spirits that guard him.
I've been so frazzled, since I arrived. So undirected. That isn't the Lenne I know.
Lenne is a creature of goals. And I finally feel minimally educated enough to set myself to some, in confidence, at last.
It's a crushing weight, that I was only peripherally aware of, suddenly lifted. Today I wake and find I breathe easier.
Thank Vellichor for Elder Mirk Halfshav, for his wise guidance of a very lost girl. Thank the spirits that guard him.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 2, 2019, 4:08 a.m.(4/19/1012 AR)
I feel as if I must leave a note for future scholars or idealists, like myself, who ever put their work before all else.
Kissing.
It is very pleasant, as it turns out.
I would highly recommend one put aside their obsessions and dabble in romance for a while.
Whichever god dreamed that facet of our existence into being has done fine work.
I feel fully and completely justified in writing this note into the indelible canon of divinely-sanctioned writ.
Kissing.
It is very pleasant, as it turns out.
I would highly recommend one put aside their obsessions and dabble in romance for a while.
Whichever god dreamed that facet of our existence into being has done fine work.
I feel fully and completely justified in writing this note into the indelible canon of divinely-sanctioned writ.
Written By Lenne
Dec. 1, 2019, 9:55 p.m.(4/19/1012 AR)
My attempts to discretely collect information has been a trial. Perhaps I need to back my written inquiries with silver, as bribes to earn speed and anonymity.
Some Vellichor-damned fool has vandalized the Archive, I've learned, and everything over there is a mess. Things are being shuffled around. Things have been lost to mislabeling. Scholars are in a tizzy.
I have found no less than twenty four collections of historic love letters, but no actual treatise on how one actually constructs and writes one. Surely some love-struck scholar at some point has made study of it?
I've found a curated list, recommending three hundred and twenty six books on writing poetic verse, from old Northland Battle-hymn to Modern Lycene Neo-classical Septameter. But I don't have the skill with florid words to go that route. Besides, I would be studying for months!
I'd hire a Whisper to compose something flowery for me, but for certain reasons, I dare not take that route.
At least my other, more life-and-death research proceeds apace.
Some Vellichor-damned fool has vandalized the Archive, I've learned, and everything over there is a mess. Things are being shuffled around. Things have been lost to mislabeling. Scholars are in a tizzy.
I have found no less than twenty four collections of historic love letters, but no actual treatise on how one actually constructs and writes one. Surely some love-struck scholar at some point has made study of it?
I've found a curated list, recommending three hundred and twenty six books on writing poetic verse, from old Northland Battle-hymn to Modern Lycene Neo-classical Septameter. But I don't have the skill with florid words to go that route. Besides, I would be studying for months!
I'd hire a Whisper to compose something flowery for me, but for certain reasons, I dare not take that route.
At least my other, more life-and-death research proceeds apace.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.