Written By Leta
Jan. 29, 2021, 9:26 a.m.(11/4/1014 AR)
To step on the cobblestones of Arx is like walking with ghosts. It's a funny thing, that they seem more alive when I close my eyes.
The house is worse. Every door I open feels like cracking open a grave. The house needs airing out, anyhow, so I think I shall stay in a room at some tavern somewhere, for a while.
The house is worse. Every door I open feels like cracking open a grave. The house needs airing out, anyhow, so I think I shall stay in a room at some tavern somewhere, for a while.
Written By Leta
March 21, 2020, 12:40 p.m.(12/19/1012 AR)
To Death,
I know I am not the best of Arxians as far as Death goes, on account of not understanding much of it, as far as the gods go. Not that I understand much of the others, but with Death it's worse. Good Harlequins have tried to explain it to me and all but I reckon I just am not scholarly enough to get my head around it as I should.
Still, I would like to request the return of another member of the Velenosa family, if you could, if that's a thing that you are doing. I'm sure you know which one I mean, on account of being a goddess and all and me having tried talking to you back then about it. Preferably with all her bits not crushed or nothing, if you could, because falling from that height, as I see it, is probably worse than getting crushed by an unnatural thing, so I would appreciate that, thank you. I know I don't give as much silver to your shrine as I do to Gild or nothing, but I have killed plenty of people, also, so in a way you owe me, maybe? That's probably not how it works, but you just let me know what works and I'll do it.
Best regards,
Leta.
PS: I have had some wine so if that offended, I am sorry, but if you could bring her back, I would appreciate it anyhow. Thank you.
I know I am not the best of Arxians as far as Death goes, on account of not understanding much of it, as far as the gods go. Not that I understand much of the others, but with Death it's worse. Good Harlequins have tried to explain it to me and all but I reckon I just am not scholarly enough to get my head around it as I should.
Still, I would like to request the return of another member of the Velenosa family, if you could, if that's a thing that you are doing. I'm sure you know which one I mean, on account of being a goddess and all and me having tried talking to you back then about it. Preferably with all her bits not crushed or nothing, if you could, because falling from that height, as I see it, is probably worse than getting crushed by an unnatural thing, so I would appreciate that, thank you. I know I don't give as much silver to your shrine as I do to Gild or nothing, but I have killed plenty of people, also, so in a way you owe me, maybe? That's probably not how it works, but you just let me know what works and I'll do it.
Best regards,
Leta.
PS: I have had some wine so if that offended, I am sorry, but if you could bring her back, I would appreciate it anyhow. Thank you.
Written By Leta
April 20, 2019, 10:49 a.m.(12/15/1010 AR)
The story I hear about how Prince Luca doesn't make any sense at all. Odds are I didn't hear right or it's got to do with things that are beyond my understanding. There are a lot of those, truth be told, and that goes for just about anything having to do with Death. So it happens that I don't rightly know what to think about it.
He was always kind to me. We beat on each other a few times, for practice and whatnot. I think he had fun with that. He always won, though I came close to beating him when we fought with no weapons, once. He was a funny sort, but he was always kind about me and Serafine and such, so that's something.
Well, I hadn't even seen him, not properly, not so as to stop and talk to him, in a while. But I reckon I feel a bit lonelier now. Everyone dies, don't they? Not counting maybe wizards and such, but us normal folk, we all die. It's just some days it feels more like it than others.
He was always kind to me. We beat on each other a few times, for practice and whatnot. I think he had fun with that. He always won, though I came close to beating him when we fought with no weapons, once. He was a funny sort, but he was always kind about me and Serafine and such, so that's something.
Well, I hadn't even seen him, not properly, not so as to stop and talk to him, in a while. But I reckon I feel a bit lonelier now. Everyone dies, don't they? Not counting maybe wizards and such, but us normal folk, we all die. It's just some days it feels more like it than others.
Written By Leta
April 16, 2019, 10:35 p.m.(12/8/1010 AR)
This is a poem I recited at the poetry reading by Princess Helena Redrain. It was about perspective so I wrote this from the perspective of my Meowlarice.
I sit and survey my domain,
my lofty perch steady and sure,
and while without there's wind and rain,
within these walls my realm's secure.
The big one comes in steel and silk,
she pokes and stokes the logs aflame,
she sets out food, fat fish and milk,
then sits and coos and calls my name.
I shall not go, I'll soon be full,
I bagged a bird just before dusk.
And while she calls, I bite and pull
feathers and flesh from boney husk.
My children come, in threes and twos,
in from the rain, out from the gloom,
to nip at food and nip at shoes,
meowling of ghosts and elves and doom.
She does not hear, she never does,
but pets them all and finds them food,
and soon, like lazy balls of fuzz,
my brood lies strewn across the wood.
I deign, at last, to leap below,
from my high perch upon the shelf,
to counsel her on things I know,
since she knows not even herself.
She sits with quill in unsure hand,
thinking of things best left unthought.
I stalk her desk and there shall stand
ere any writings can be wrought.
She grieves for things that are long past,
for missing scents this house once knew,
when I bare claws, feline and fast,
and claw her arm, and bite and chew.
She yelps and barks in disbelief,
while kittens flee across the floor.
Like fury chased away her grief,
I let her chase me out the door.
In time she stills, I hear it through
The flame-lit panes of foggy glass,
she cries, then laughs, then that fades too,
replaced by snoring like an ass.
It's raining yet; I return soon,
and name my throne the windowsill,
where I rule, curled, under the moon,
my realm at last silent and still.
I sit and survey my domain,
my lofty perch steady and sure,
and while without there's wind and rain,
within these walls my realm's secure.
The big one comes in steel and silk,
she pokes and stokes the logs aflame,
she sets out food, fat fish and milk,
then sits and coos and calls my name.
I shall not go, I'll soon be full,
I bagged a bird just before dusk.
And while she calls, I bite and pull
feathers and flesh from boney husk.
My children come, in threes and twos,
in from the rain, out from the gloom,
to nip at food and nip at shoes,
meowling of ghosts and elves and doom.
She does not hear, she never does,
but pets them all and finds them food,
and soon, like lazy balls of fuzz,
my brood lies strewn across the wood.
I deign, at last, to leap below,
from my high perch upon the shelf,
to counsel her on things I know,
since she knows not even herself.
She sits with quill in unsure hand,
thinking of things best left unthought.
I stalk her desk and there shall stand
ere any writings can be wrought.
She grieves for things that are long past,
for missing scents this house once knew,
when I bare claws, feline and fast,
and claw her arm, and bite and chew.
She yelps and barks in disbelief,
while kittens flee across the floor.
Like fury chased away her grief,
I let her chase me out the door.
In time she stills, I hear it through
The flame-lit panes of foggy glass,
she cries, then laughs, then that fades too,
replaced by snoring like an ass.
It's raining yet; I return soon,
and name my throne the windowsill,
where I rule, curled, under the moon,
my realm at last silent and still.
Written By Leta
April 8, 2019, 7:01 p.m.(11/20/1010 AR)
The thistle waited on the hill,
wild flowers blooming all around.
But far beyond the earth was chill,
no blossom grew upon the ground.
No sprouting shoot dared pierce the cold,
though seasons turned silver to gold.
One day the sun spilled beams below.
and where a shoot of green broke through
a lily bloomed, whiter than snow,
dappled with gems of frozen dew.
And on its hill, the thistle turned
to face the bloom for which it yearned.
Flowers they were, of diff’rent shades,
one sought the hills, one quiet glades,
but though they strayed and grew apart,
their roots, entwined, were one at heart.
wild flowers blooming all around.
But far beyond the earth was chill,
no blossom grew upon the ground.
No sprouting shoot dared pierce the cold,
though seasons turned silver to gold.
One day the sun spilled beams below.
and where a shoot of green broke through
a lily bloomed, whiter than snow,
dappled with gems of frozen dew.
And on its hill, the thistle turned
to face the bloom for which it yearned.
Flowers they were, of diff’rent shades,
one sought the hills, one quiet glades,
but though they strayed and grew apart,
their roots, entwined, were one at heart.
Written By Leta
April 3, 2019, 7:31 a.m.(11/9/1010 AR)
I should've visited more often. And talked. I suppose the Archduchess thing always did scare me a bit. I'm sorry.
Written By Leta
April 1, 2019, 9:10 a.m.(11/5/1010 AR)
I expect I'll be resting for a while, what with being stabbed and all. Still, it was a good bout while it lasted. Not sure it was worth the bleeding, truth be told, but I expect it was more useful as a spar than a dozen one on one matches with blunted weapons.
In the bits in between, while you're having a breather, it's a funny thing to see how folk pair up and pick their targets. I never was much good at all that. If it's a real battle, that's one thing, I've been in enough of those that I got a feel for things, more or less. But these things, they're more like politics or something, aren't they? You don't have two sides, you've a whole bunch of them and you never know where you're standing with them. I expect it pays to go in with a plan.
In the bits in between, while you're having a breather, it's a funny thing to see how folk pair up and pick their targets. I never was much good at all that. If it's a real battle, that's one thing, I've been in enough of those that I got a feel for things, more or less. But these things, they're more like politics or something, aren't they? You don't have two sides, you've a whole bunch of them and you never know where you're standing with them. I expect it pays to go in with a plan.
Written By Leta
March 30, 2019, 5:05 a.m.(11/1/1010 AR)
I came within a hair's breadth of being a Princess the last time I fought in the melee at the Tournament of Roses. If I'd turned to the left instead of the right, maybe, at the end, I think I could've done it.
But then I'd be a Highness now, and Gods know I'd hate it. That's not to say it wouldn't have been worth it. It would've, even if only for a little while. Even if only because it would've made her happy for a little while. But Gods know I'd hate it now. Imagine that. I wouldn't know what to do with myself. As things are I already don't, but I think I wouldn't know what to do with myself even more.
I won't win this time. I don't expect I'll even come as close as I did then. Truth is I wouldn't know what to ask for anyway, not really. And wouldn't that be an insult? Won this whole thing and I don't even know what to ask for, your Majesty, beg your pardon.
But then I'd be a Highness now, and Gods know I'd hate it. That's not to say it wouldn't have been worth it. It would've, even if only for a little while. Even if only because it would've made her happy for a little while. But Gods know I'd hate it now. Imagine that. I wouldn't know what to do with myself. As things are I already don't, but I think I wouldn't know what to do with myself even more.
I won't win this time. I don't expect I'll even come as close as I did then. Truth is I wouldn't know what to ask for anyway, not really. And wouldn't that be an insult? Won this whole thing and I don't even know what to ask for, your Majesty, beg your pardon.
Written By Leta
March 12, 2019, 10:40 p.m.(9/22/1010 AR)
I played a bit of music for the king today. Well, I mostly just played the lute a bit to accompany Master Captain Evaristo Arterius who was singing a song he wrote and everything, right in the middle of the street, and I just did some embellishments on the melody and such to go along. I was a bit afraid of ruining it but I suppose we did alright. Well, the king said it was alright but then I think the king is very gracious about these things, and he wouldn't go around telling folk they're no good, so you have to take the king with a grain of salt, if you pardon.
Written By Leta
Feb. 24, 2019, 10:21 a.m.(8/18/1010 AR)
It had been a while since I last had a proper spar. I don't miss the bruises and the aches at all. I cursed myself proper the next morning. Why, there's parts of me I had almost forgotten I had, and they were all too eager to remind me. All my ointments for such things had gone off, and that's after I spent a good deal of the morning looking for where I'd put them away. Still, I didn't do too poorly. I think I got more tired than I might have, once upon a time, but some things you don't forget. It's not like I haven't practiced a bit now and then to keep from rusting solid, just not with someone else hitting me back.
I still feel useless most days, but at least I know I won't chop my own foot first thing if need be.
I still feel useless most days, but at least I know I won't chop my own foot first thing if need be.
Written By Leta
Feb. 17, 2019, 6:32 p.m.(8/4/1010 AR)
Octopuses are a sort of creature that dwells in the sea. They have a big head and no body, just eight arms which are soft and floppy on account of not having any bones in them. They have beaks but not feathers, what with feathers not being too useful underwater, as I see it. They don't have scales either, or shells, as fish and other sea creatures have. Some folk eat them.
That's for if some day in years to come all the octopuses have all vanished and Scholars care to know more about them.
I am working on an octopus doll for a babe. It's been tricky to get the pattern right, on account of all the arms and making sure they're floppy but not too floppy, and so the stuffing doesn't move around too much. I think I have it down, more or less, if the customer cares for it. Then it's a matter of picking the fabric and such things as the eyes and the beak. The beak's a bother and a half, that's for sure. I made a beak on an owl doll not too long ago, but that wasn't for a little one, so I wasn't as worried about how soft it was for grabbing and chewing on.
That's for if some day in years to come all the octopuses have all vanished and Scholars care to know more about them.
I am working on an octopus doll for a babe. It's been tricky to get the pattern right, on account of all the arms and making sure they're floppy but not too floppy, and so the stuffing doesn't move around too much. I think I have it down, more or less, if the customer cares for it. Then it's a matter of picking the fabric and such things as the eyes and the beak. The beak's a bother and a half, that's for sure. I made a beak on an owl doll not too long ago, but that wasn't for a little one, so I wasn't as worried about how soft it was for grabbing and chewing on.
Written By Leta
Feb. 7, 2019, 9:14 a.m.(7/11/1010 AR)
Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the Lord-Captain-General Audric still had that hat I sent him when he lost his. It was an alright hat. I reckon I'll have to make a new one.
The rest I've written elsewhere. Still, it is a scary business, and no mistake.
The rest I've written elsewhere. Still, it is a scary business, and no mistake.
Written By Leta
Jan. 20, 2019, 10:14 a.m.(6/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Serafine
<This entry is dated to 24/05/1010. The handwriting is especially bad, even for Leta.>
It's been two years. It feels like it might as well have been yesterday.
The world has changed. Too much, if you ask me. But I always said that, didn't I? Truth is I liked it when things were simpler, when we didn't know about all these unnatural things that crawl in the corners of the world. I had a sword and I had my arms and that was that, and magic was something in the stories my nan used to tell me. I don't know what to make of all this, and I don't reckon I ever will.
For a while, it didn't matter. I had a star to guide me by, such as sailors do. I knew where my North was, or rather my South I suppose. I still ask myself what you'd want me to do, sometimes. What you'd think of things, like these foreigners and the road and all. But it's not the same. Used to be I had a purpose, and I don't feel like I've much of one these days. Things change but I don't. It's like I'm still stuck in the bloody muck of Setarco after all this time.
Maybe this ought to go in the Blacks, but folk forget too quickly. And maybe some day I'll do something heroic and worth speaking of. And then maybe Scholars of years to come, if they haven't all been killed, will want to learn more and ask why, and here they'll have it. Odds are I won't live to do great deeds, but you never know. And if I sacrifice myself for something, folk will talk about glory and honor and foolish things like that. Odds are I'll do because it would make you laugh.
I wish we'd never left home. Setarco would've done fine without us.
Meowlarice misses you too.
Your Leta.
It's been two years. It feels like it might as well have been yesterday.
The world has changed. Too much, if you ask me. But I always said that, didn't I? Truth is I liked it when things were simpler, when we didn't know about all these unnatural things that crawl in the corners of the world. I had a sword and I had my arms and that was that, and magic was something in the stories my nan used to tell me. I don't know what to make of all this, and I don't reckon I ever will.
For a while, it didn't matter. I had a star to guide me by, such as sailors do. I knew where my North was, or rather my South I suppose. I still ask myself what you'd want me to do, sometimes. What you'd think of things, like these foreigners and the road and all. But it's not the same. Used to be I had a purpose, and I don't feel like I've much of one these days. Things change but I don't. It's like I'm still stuck in the bloody muck of Setarco after all this time.
Maybe this ought to go in the Blacks, but folk forget too quickly. And maybe some day I'll do something heroic and worth speaking of. And then maybe Scholars of years to come, if they haven't all been killed, will want to learn more and ask why, and here they'll have it. Odds are I won't live to do great deeds, but you never know. And if I sacrifice myself for something, folk will talk about glory and honor and foolish things like that. Odds are I'll do because it would make you laugh.
I wish we'd never left home. Setarco would've done fine without us.
Meowlarice misses you too.
Your Leta.
Written By Leta
Jan. 19, 2019, 5:28 p.m.(5/22/1010 AR)
<Wine stains.>
Not much is going on with me.
I put on my armor today. It still mostly fits, maybe a little tighter around the middle than it needs to be but not so as to bother me too much. Not that I expect I'll be fighting any time soon, but you never know. These are strange days and I don't rightly know what to think about all that's happened of late.
Lagoma forgive me, but I'm tired of things changing. I feel like a lump of wood or something, sometimes, just getting dragged down a river wherever it's going. Or not even that. But I suppose a log of wood's got some use. You can burn it for fuel and warmth. I reckon maybe I got some use too, in the end, if that's what it takes.
I hate this time of year.
Not much is going on with me.
I put on my armor today. It still mostly fits, maybe a little tighter around the middle than it needs to be but not so as to bother me too much. Not that I expect I'll be fighting any time soon, but you never know. These are strange days and I don't rightly know what to think about all that's happened of late.
Lagoma forgive me, but I'm tired of things changing. I feel like a lump of wood or something, sometimes, just getting dragged down a river wherever it's going. Or not even that. But I suppose a log of wood's got some use. You can burn it for fuel and warmth. I reckon maybe I got some use too, in the end, if that's what it takes.
I hate this time of year.
Written By Leta
Nov. 21, 2018, 4:41 p.m.(1/14/1010 AR)
My stitches are smaller and more even. My carving is finer. That's about all there is to it. You don't become a proper craftswoman in a fortnight. The cats are alright. Don't suppose there's anything else that's worth mentioning.
Written By Leta
June 28, 2018, 3:15 a.m.(2/5/1009 AR)
At times I dream that Aion's dream's the lesser
when measured 'gainst these dreams of mine,
for in my dreams I touch her face and kiss her,
and so my dreams the very stars outshine.
Let kings, then, have Aion's world,
Let me, 'til sleep, have wine.
when measured 'gainst these dreams of mine,
for in my dreams I touch her face and kiss her,
and so my dreams the very stars outshine.
Let kings, then, have Aion's world,
Let me, 'til sleep, have wine.
Written By Leta
June 3, 2018, 10:03 p.m.(11/28/1008 AR)
It's been a while since I step foot on a proper sparring ring or anything. I did today. Fisticuffs, of all things, nothing I'm too good at. Still, I managed to hold my own against two contenders, though I've a few good bruises that'll stay with me a while. And I can't even smile without my lip hurting. But I worked up a good sweat and loosened up a little, so that was good.
Next time, armor and a sword.
Next time, armor and a sword.
Written By Leta
May 20, 2018, 2:04 p.m.(10/11/1008 AR)
Finished my first commissioned doll, such as it was. It was a lot of work, that's what. I had to tear up stitches and sew again and tear them up and sew again, and cut again, and sew again, and so on and so forth. Spent days just working over the one doll. Now I just have to wait to hear if it was liked or not, I suppose.
I expect it'll be easier next time, on account of having patterns and such, and also having learned a bit more. Still have two more to finish, but those are alike, so once I get one done the other one ought to be straightforward enough.
I don't know if I'm cut out for all this work, my fingers started cramping something fierce. But hopefully the children like them. And if I get good at these comissions, I ought to be able to make some more dolls, with all this practice, and just give them away to family and friends and poorer folk who can't afford them.
Seeing as I'm not having any of my own, it's something.
I expect it'll be easier next time, on account of having patterns and such, and also having learned a bit more. Still have two more to finish, but those are alike, so once I get one done the other one ought to be straightforward enough.
I don't know if I'm cut out for all this work, my fingers started cramping something fierce. But hopefully the children like them. And if I get good at these comissions, I ought to be able to make some more dolls, with all this practice, and just give them away to family and friends and poorer folk who can't afford them.
Seeing as I'm not having any of my own, it's something.
Written By Leta
May 13, 2018, 11:54 p.m.(9/26/1008 AR)
I've my first commission, like a real craftsperson and everything.
Now, I suspect this is more to encourage me than it is because my skills are anything worthy of attention, but seeing as it's for tots, I don't suppose they'll worry too much about perfect stitching. Their parents might, but as long as it's soft and colorful and sturdy, I shall consider my job done well enough. Still, I'll do my best.
I've been trying my hand at whittling other toys, and had a talk with Master Fortunato Grayhope about archetypes as he called them, and painting, and other matters. I'm no artist or anything, but still, it's good to think about these things.
Now, I suspect this is more to encourage me than it is because my skills are anything worthy of attention, but seeing as it's for tots, I don't suppose they'll worry too much about perfect stitching. Their parents might, but as long as it's soft and colorful and sturdy, I shall consider my job done well enough. Still, I'll do my best.
I've been trying my hand at whittling other toys, and had a talk with Master Fortunato Grayhope about archetypes as he called them, and painting, and other matters. I'm no artist or anything, but still, it's good to think about these things.
Written By Leta
May 12, 2018, 12:31 p.m.(9/23/1008 AR)
I've given up on sellswording, but I expect I'll have some fighting to do some day. Maybe their Graces will call on me. Maybe something else will. It's been too long, I worry I'll grow rusty. It might do me good, to work off some sweat and focus on the weight of a weapon in my hands and on moving and on nothing else.
But I'll have to find another place to train. The Training Center is full of ghosts. You wouldn't think one person could leave a whole mess of ghosts behind, but they can.
But I'll have to find another place to train. The Training Center is full of ghosts. You wouldn't think one person could leave a whole mess of ghosts behind, but they can.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.