Written By Lora
Aug. 23, 2020, 1:04 p.m.(11/22/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Celeste
Through tragedy, we triumph.
There are many variations on that notion, on the rise from ruin and leaving the past behind save as the blood-soaked ground in which to grow a new garden. I hesitate yet to call this a triumph, but it clearly is not a tragedy.
It certainly will be glorious.
And by it I mean your armor. Of course.
There are many variations on that notion, on the rise from ruin and leaving the past behind save as the blood-soaked ground in which to grow a new garden. I hesitate yet to call this a triumph, but it clearly is not a tragedy.
It certainly will be glorious.
And by it I mean your armor. Of course.
Written By Lora
April 24, 2020, 1:10 a.m.(3/3/1013 AR)
Gods help me, I've had an idea for a party.
No, a series of parties. I've already set the wheels in motion, already chosen the color of the ink for the invitations. It is now just a matter of finding the right alchemist.
No, a series of parties. I've already set the wheels in motion, already chosen the color of the ink for the invitations. It is now just a matter of finding the right alchemist.
Written By Lora
Feb. 4, 2020, 5:32 p.m.(9.304363425925926/11.04435185185185/1012.6920302854938 AR)
Relationship Note on Josephine
Today my cousin showed me the most marvelous little figurine, with a tiny wheel that moves its arm.
I thought instantly of you. I wanted you to see it, to listen to it, to see what story it might tell you. But I cannot.
It's a dark world after all.
I thought instantly of you. I wanted you to see it, to listen to it, to see what story it might tell you. But I cannot.
It's a dark world after all.
Written By Lora
Jan. 18, 2020, 11:13 a.m.(8/3/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Josephine
I met Josephine Arcuri on the last day that the green snow fell, on the day when everything seemed to happen twice. I'd gone to the Velvet Box to talk about a project for a journey we had both volunteered to make, but when the clocktower fell and everything changed, so too, I think, did we. We stayed up late that night, talking about love and loss and heartbreak.
A few months later I became her patron. I nominated myself when she began to search for one, little thinking she would choose me out of any number of the city's luminaries. But she did. The Velvet Box was in the Lyceum ward then, and I spent so many hours in her shop and beside her hearth. True to her word she taught me the basis of jewelcrafting; she humored my desires, and proudly sold a few of my designs alongside her own magnificent work.
She had the most beautiful heart. She was kind and wise and generous beyond all imagining. She was my mentor and my dearest friend, and now she is gone.
I loved her, and have lost her, and now my heart is broken.
Goodbye, Jo.
A few months later I became her patron. I nominated myself when she began to search for one, little thinking she would choose me out of any number of the city's luminaries. But she did. The Velvet Box was in the Lyceum ward then, and I spent so many hours in her shop and beside her hearth. True to her word she taught me the basis of jewelcrafting; she humored my desires, and proudly sold a few of my designs alongside her own magnificent work.
She had the most beautiful heart. She was kind and wise and generous beyond all imagining. She was my mentor and my dearest friend, and now she is gone.
I loved her, and have lost her, and now my heart is broken.
Goodbye, Jo.
Written By Lora
Nov. 28, 2019, 11:05 a.m.(4/12/1012 AR)
It's a world of danger, a world of fear,
It's a world of darkness, a world of tears,
There's so much that we dare, but it's time to beware,
It's a dark world after all.
Though the wild winds blow and the tempests howl,
And through all your dreams does a dark thing prowl,
If we hold the light we will make it through the night,
It's a dark world after all.
It's a world of darkness, a world of tears,
There's so much that we dare, but it's time to beware,
It's a dark world after all.
Though the wild winds blow and the tempests howl,
And through all your dreams does a dark thing prowl,
If we hold the light we will make it through the night,
It's a dark world after all.
Written By Lora
Nov. 4, 2019, 3:57 p.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
My father used to say that if you wanted to be certain you would accomplish something, you had to burn your boats.
I didn't understand it then. I thought it was a waste of the time it took to make the journey, and the cost of the vessels, nevermind the potential for catastrophic consequences if something went wrong.
I understand it now, and I promise...
When we are ready, we will burn the ships.
I didn't understand it then. I thought it was a waste of the time it took to make the journey, and the cost of the vessels, nevermind the potential for catastrophic consequences if something went wrong.
I understand it now, and I promise...
When we are ready, we will burn the ships.
Written By Lora
Oct. 26, 2019, 12:16 p.m.(2/2/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Dante
Everything. Nothing more, nothing less.
Written By Lora
Oct. 20, 2019, 9:15 a.m.(1/18/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Ruslan
Foolish is the man who does not carefully weigh the cost of so great a decision as you made.
It breaks my heart to know we were not there when you needed us most.
How do we set it right?
It breaks my heart to know we were not there when you needed us most.
How do we set it right?
Written By Lora
Oct. 10, 2019, 10:27 a.m.(12/26/1011 AR)
There are things that, once broken, can never truly be mended. The cracked piece of a vase; the rip in a favorite gown; the gouge in the side of a desk. A talented craftsman can repair these flaws but they never truly go away. There is always a tiny hairline fissure left in the ceramic; stitches in the silk; a subtle difference in the stain where the gouge has been sanded down and smoothed away. Always something. Always there. Perhaps it is because once made aware of that damage, once you've seen the thing broken, you can never then unsee it. You only change the angle from which you view the thing. You turn the vase around, or hide the gown in the back of the wardrobe, or set the desk in a corner. Then someone comes, reorganizes, turns it back again and suddenly it is all that you can see.
I pray that I am wrong.
I pray that I am wrong.
Written By Lora
Sept. 15, 2019, 12:47 p.m.(11/4/1011 AR)
Would that everything were as simple as it appears to be.
Surely if a thing quacks like a dog, it must be a dog.
Surely if a thing quacks like a dog, it must be a dog.
Written By Lora
Sept. 7, 2019, 10:57 a.m.(10/16/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Esme
I woke this morning with light in my heart and a song on my tongue. It might be purely coincidence that Esme has joined us in Arx, but surely there are worse things to be responsible for.
Written By Lora
Aug. 7, 2019, 3:44 p.m.(8/10/1011 AR)
Not all entries can be filled with witticisms.
Why? Do we not have the luxury of composing our thoughts on paper? Are we not afforded an opportunity to review them before they are added to the record, preserved for posterity? Should we not all take an extra minute to ensure that every word so captured is worth the ink it costs to add it, one after the next? After all, everything that is here may one day be read by someone. This very entry might be pulled from a book a thousand years from now by some industrious scholar looking to answer some question, who might, from these words, draw some profound edification.
No.
Close your eyes. Think of love, or loss, or life. Think of something that floods your heart with sunlight, or something that shatters you and makes you weep. These are not careful compositions of memory, but rather raw, unfettered fragments of existence that have lodged in the corners of your mind like weeds taking root in fertile ground. They surely are not all fit for white journals, but neither should what makes it here be carefully cleansed from all hint of the emotion behind it.
Someday someone might wonder what duty feels like, or whether it is worth waking up before the sun to taste the dew, or if dreams ever hold power beyond showing us the secret wishes of our hearts. Maybe it is impossible to accurately describe these things, but some have come very close.
Why? Do we not have the luxury of composing our thoughts on paper? Are we not afforded an opportunity to review them before they are added to the record, preserved for posterity? Should we not all take an extra minute to ensure that every word so captured is worth the ink it costs to add it, one after the next? After all, everything that is here may one day be read by someone. This very entry might be pulled from a book a thousand years from now by some industrious scholar looking to answer some question, who might, from these words, draw some profound edification.
No.
Close your eyes. Think of love, or loss, or life. Think of something that floods your heart with sunlight, or something that shatters you and makes you weep. These are not careful compositions of memory, but rather raw, unfettered fragments of existence that have lodged in the corners of your mind like weeds taking root in fertile ground. They surely are not all fit for white journals, but neither should what makes it here be carefully cleansed from all hint of the emotion behind it.
Someday someone might wonder what duty feels like, or whether it is worth waking up before the sun to taste the dew, or if dreams ever hold power beyond showing us the secret wishes of our hearts. Maybe it is impossible to accurately describe these things, but some have come very close.
Written By Lora
Aug. 2, 2019, 10:40 a.m.(7/28/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Dante
Why is it that when someone is gone, I find a dozen or more things each day that I want to share? Things to say, things to show, questions to ask, all the glimmers that only serve to illuminate the empty place created by their absence.
And why is it that when they return all those things are suddenly forgotten? They're swept away like dry leaves in an autumn wind come to scour away the dust and cobwebs and suddenly that place is full again, as nothing had ever been missing. Only missed.
And why is it that when they return all those things are suddenly forgotten? They're swept away like dry leaves in an autumn wind come to scour away the dust and cobwebs and suddenly that place is full again, as nothing had ever been missing. Only missed.
Written By Lora
July 27, 2019, 12:51 p.m.(7/16/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Josephine
There will always be a handful of days where someone can ask "where were you when..." and anyone asked will have a story to tell because those days are preserved forever in memory, as clear as the moments as they happened.
I will always remember sitting with you at the forge when the world changed, when we lost something and gained something. Perhaps we might've become friends under some other circumstances but that brief moment, that fracture of darkness and despair like the occlusion in some splendid gem, created something unique. Though it may've been forged in sorrow it has become an effulgence of joy.
You are an excellent protege, an incredible guildmaster, but a far better friend.
((The lower half of the page is criss-crossed in little black bird footprints, which become increasingly lighter as the ink runs out.))
I will always remember sitting with you at the forge when the world changed, when we lost something and gained something. Perhaps we might've become friends under some other circumstances but that brief moment, that fracture of darkness and despair like the occlusion in some splendid gem, created something unique. Though it may've been forged in sorrow it has become an effulgence of joy.
You are an excellent protege, an incredible guildmaster, but a far better friend.
((The lower half of the page is criss-crossed in little black bird footprints, which become increasingly lighter as the ink runs out.))
Written By Lora
July 18, 2019, 7:37 p.m.(6/26/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Tyrus
The wren has many admirers. Many of them have realized that her affections seem to be purchased with snacks. However, few of them take the extra step of offering them to her like proper gifts, one ripe little berry at a time. It is not the fruit that I take issue with, it is the quantity. And the delivery. At least Mistress Arcuri gives her proper seeds, in a little dish.
Not her weight in fruit.
Do you have any idea what so much fruit does to a little bird?
Please. Stop.
Not her weight in fruit.
Do you have any idea what so much fruit does to a little bird?
Please. Stop.
Written By Lora
July 18, 2019, 1:29 p.m.(6/26/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Tyrus
I learned some time ago not to apologize for the truth.
Finer minds better versed in animal husbandry than I could surely fill pages about the proper ratio of feed to work required to keep something as small in proper shape. Impromptu buffets of berries (and nuts, and seeds, and muffins) far exceed that, and there is nothing I can do to persuade her that she ought to be eating less and doing more, especially when she is so taken with her admirers.
Loyal and devoted though she might be, I must ask you to cease and desist, or at least exercise some restraint. Surely you have more self control than a wren.
Finer minds better versed in animal husbandry than I could surely fill pages about the proper ratio of feed to work required to keep something as small in proper shape. Impromptu buffets of berries (and nuts, and seeds, and muffins) far exceed that, and there is nothing I can do to persuade her that she ought to be eating less and doing more, especially when she is so taken with her admirers.
Loyal and devoted though she might be, I must ask you to cease and desist, or at least exercise some restraint. Surely you have more self control than a wren.
Written By Lora
July 17, 2019, 5:34 p.m.(6/24/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Tyrus
Have you ever seen a fat wren?
I hadn't. Then Wendy met a certain driftwood Prince of Thrax and now she's becoming quite round.
I hadn't. Then Wendy met a certain driftwood Prince of Thrax and now she's becoming quite round.
Written By Lora
July 8, 2019, 10:20 a.m.(6/5/1011 AR)
Ask the question. Give the gift. Make the journey.
There may not be another chance.
There may not be another chance.
Written By Lora
July 3, 2019, 4:16 p.m.(5/24/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Calista
There are many things that you could ask of me. There are many things you have asked. I have done many, and will continue to do each to the best of my ability.
But this? I think it might at last be more than I can bear. But he would've wanted it.
How can I say no?
We do not choose the paths that lie ahead of us; we can but decide which to follow, seldom knowing where it might lead. Betimes we learn from looking back, but the future is uncertain and the plans we make today may tomorrow be what brings us into ruin. But living forever at the crossroads, paralyzed into indecision by potential, is no life at all.
This is why we have hope, isn't it?
It's a dark world after all.
But this? I think it might at last be more than I can bear. But he would've wanted it.
How can I say no?
We do not choose the paths that lie ahead of us; we can but decide which to follow, seldom knowing where it might lead. Betimes we learn from looking back, but the future is uncertain and the plans we make today may tomorrow be what brings us into ruin. But living forever at the crossroads, paralyzed into indecision by potential, is no life at all.
This is why we have hope, isn't it?
It's a dark world after all.
Written By Lora
June 21, 2019, 10:44 a.m.(4/27/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Josephine
I now have an heirloom to accompany an heirloom, but I treasure neither of them quite so much as you, dear lady.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.