Written By Rey
Dec. 26, 2021, 5:37 p.m.(10/25/1016 AR)
The news of what has happened at the Mercier's Vineyards is nothing but tragic, and horrific.
Written By Rey
March 24, 2021, 5:07 p.m.(3/3/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Tibault
I seem to always be missing Count Tibault, it saddens me this, but I shall continue to hold on to hope, and pray that we will finally have a chance to see each other. I have missed my adoptive father. I hope he and the house have been doing well here in Arx while I was away, back home in Brighthold.
Written By Rey
March 8, 2021, 9:36 p.m.(1/28/1015 AR)
I went home for a while to look for answers. I found none.
Now I am back in Arx for...I don't know what. I'm sure it will come to me though.
Now I am back in Arx for...I don't know what. I'm sure it will come to me though.
Written By Rey
March 8, 2020, 10:30 p.m.(11/22/1012 AR)
I'm hopeful that the work I am doing with Princess Roxana will bring about some good, and help people in need.
Written By Rey
Feb. 23, 2020, 8 p.m.(10/22/1012 AR)
I seem to be struggling with trying to find someone that is willing to give me lessons in Alchemy and being an Apothecary. I can only hope that I will eventually find a kind person that will be happy to give me lessons.
Written By Rey
Feb. 2, 2020, 10:21 a.m.(9.14016658399471/8.849328703703705/1012.6783472153329 AR)
Relationship Note on Tikva
It was nice getting to spend time with Tikva and catch up. I'm looking forward to the promised picnic, and getting to see my niece and nephews.
Written By Rey
Jan. 29, 2020, 3:42 p.m.(8.870472883597884/28.74648148148148/1012.6558727402999 AR)
Sometimes we find ourselves in rare moments, were we have the chance to meet someone. They come along into your life unexpectedly, and before you know it, they are a kindred spirit. Another soul that you connect with, who sees you, for you. It is a wondrous and lovely thing. I am humbled by finding such depth of connection.
Written By Rey
Jan. 25, 2020, 3:17 p.m.(8.583939318783068/19.700601851851854/1012.6319949432319 AR)
I have a nice list of possible projects to begin for Brighthold, as well as projects of others to help with too. Staying busy is good, I enjoy having work to do, and knowing I am helping others in achieving the goals they wish to put into action.
Written By Rey
Jan. 25, 2020, 2:24 p.m.(8.58133308531746/19.554652777777775/1012.6317777571098 AR)
It was wonderful getting to meet Duchess Lisebet Ashford, and even more so when she asked if I would like to have her as my patron. I'm deeply honored by her offer, and of course accepted it. I hope that the two of us may grow a supportive relationship, that may bloom into a friendship. I also had the pleasure of meeting her brother Ciaran, he seemed a nice gentlemen. Well educated, and very knowledgeable on some of the various Countries that surround us. I hope that perhaps I may have a chance to learn more about them from him, when he has the time. And I was most delighted to have gotten to see Lady Sunaia, it has been some time since we last saw one another. She is just as beautiful and delightful as I remember her.
Written By Rey
Jan. 19, 2020, 3:17 p.m.(8.155575810185185/9.71224537037037/1012.5962979841821 AR)
While the short trip back home was lovely, seeing Brighthold always warms my heart, and makes me smile. It is also good to be back here, in Arx. Knowing that there are things for me to do. People to help and care for.
Written By Rey
Jan. 19, 2020, 3:12 p.m.(8.15533234126984/9.698611111111111/1012.5962776951059 AR)
Relationship Note on Josephine
While I did not have the pleasure of meeting Guildmaster Josephine Arcuri, I do have the honor and pleasure of owning a few of her pieces. Ones I shall always cherish, and feel blessed to have. May we find solace in knowing that her exceptional skill, and from all accounts a kind and giving heart, be always remembered when we look upon the wondrous gifts she created and shared with us. My deepest hope is that we can find comfort in knowing that many loved her, and appreciated the work she did. And may those that grieve for her loss, find others to share it with, so the burden may not grow too heavy.
In light of that, I wish to offer to those that wish to speak about Josephine Arcuri, please feel free to write to me, or even seek me out to speak about her. Healing comes in many forms, and sometimes we just need to share the grief and pain with another.
In light of that, I wish to offer to those that wish to speak about Josephine Arcuri, please feel free to write to me, or even seek me out to speak about her. Healing comes in many forms, and sometimes we just need to share the grief and pain with another.
Written By Rey
Dec. 15, 2018, 2:44 p.m.(3/6/1010 AR)
I've been asked to come as Healer on an adventure. I've agreed of course as I can not really let others travel alone when I can offer my talents and knowledge. But really Dwarfs?
Written By Rey
Dec. 15, 2018, 2:19 p.m.(3/6/1010 AR)
I've had a Lord come to me with what seems like a curse, or atleast something planted in his mind. It effects him and a few others and I am more worried about the issue of them not eating than the curse itself. But I will do whatever I can to find out /why/ it's happening and heal them all. It's my calling and I will not be bested by the Darkness nor a curse that MUST have a answer.
Written By Rey
Dec. 15, 2018, 2:18 p.m.(3/6/1010 AR)
He can't seem to sleep. And I am worried. He stresses about this grand plan for the movement of people and goods. I am not sure if he should have taken this on, but it's a vision he sees and it would be wrong of me not to give him all my support. So, I work with my herbs and knowledge and can only hope, I and my healing will be enough.
Written By Rey
Dec. 4, 2018, 2:28 a.m.(2/10/1010 AR)
He sent me a pair of earrings today. The very idea that he is thinking of me makes me smile and distracts me from the building of lists of medicine that need to be change to taste better. The list is coming along but I fear I still have months of work.
Written By Rey
Dec. 1, 2018, 7:57 p.m.(2/6/1010 AR)
Today I've made lists; What do we want for Laveer, What do we want for the Mercy's, What do I want out of marriage. There are so many lists I am not sure if I will ever catch up.
Written By Rey
March 9, 2018, 1:07 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
I came here today to record a dream. But it was a very nice dream, and I feel like maybe it doesn't belong right now. Or maybe my dream does, but I don't. Nothing makes sense right now. I don't want anything to make sense right now.
I don't want this to make sense.
I don't know who my parents were. I can just barely remember my mother singing to me, and how strong my father was. My mother and I were washed overboard from a ship during a storm, and I was found at the shores of Brighthold, very sick, and very alone, with my mother dead beside me. I was taken in, and taken care of, adopted into the family, encouraged in everything I tried to do. When the storms used to scare me at night, our nanny comforted me. I was loved, and never once made to think I was someone less than anyone else because of how I came into the family or anything else about me.
I've always been very proud of House Laveer's tradition of taking in "flotsam". In fact, it's the thing about my family that I'm most proud of. I thought it was a capacity for love and generosity that really made us special, that when a child in need came to us, we took them in, no questions asked, and made them one of the family in every way. I thought that was something about House Laveer that should be admired. I certainly admired it, and still do.
Was it really only me who felt this way? Am I really the only one who admires this about Count Tibualt, about House Laveer? Does the rest of Grayson really sneer at us -- at me -- for taking in, and being 'flotsam'? If House Pravus is being looked down on for taking in the children of a dishonored man who was once a Prince and embracing them as part of the family, what must people think of my family? Of me? The odds are pretty small that even one of my parents were noble.
They're just children.
The world just feels really wrong right now.
I'm glad that I'm going north soon. There's an awful smell in Arx lately, and I think it's going to start giving me nightmares again.
I don't want this to make sense.
I don't know who my parents were. I can just barely remember my mother singing to me, and how strong my father was. My mother and I were washed overboard from a ship during a storm, and I was found at the shores of Brighthold, very sick, and very alone, with my mother dead beside me. I was taken in, and taken care of, adopted into the family, encouraged in everything I tried to do. When the storms used to scare me at night, our nanny comforted me. I was loved, and never once made to think I was someone less than anyone else because of how I came into the family or anything else about me.
I've always been very proud of House Laveer's tradition of taking in "flotsam". In fact, it's the thing about my family that I'm most proud of. I thought it was a capacity for love and generosity that really made us special, that when a child in need came to us, we took them in, no questions asked, and made them one of the family in every way. I thought that was something about House Laveer that should be admired. I certainly admired it, and still do.
Was it really only me who felt this way? Am I really the only one who admires this about Count Tibualt, about House Laveer? Does the rest of Grayson really sneer at us -- at me -- for taking in, and being 'flotsam'? If House Pravus is being looked down on for taking in the children of a dishonored man who was once a Prince and embracing them as part of the family, what must people think of my family? Of me? The odds are pretty small that even one of my parents were noble.
They're just children.
The world just feels really wrong right now.
I'm glad that I'm going north soon. There's an awful smell in Arx lately, and I think it's going to start giving me nightmares again.
Written By Rey
Feb. 10, 2018, 2:43 p.m.(2/25/1008 AR)
An endless expanse of glittering sky stretched above, and just below my feet, the dark ocean heaved; sometimes, the cold water washed over my bare toes, stinging my skin. I was alone except for the wind that bore me on its back. I was alone, but I wasn't far from home; in the distance, I could see the great lighthouse of Brighthold, the broad beam sweeping in a great circle like a giant wishing star. I miss home so dearly, and the sight of the lighthouse that always comforted me as a child, so close, drew me to it. I wanted so desperately to go home, but the wind held me back. No, Siahnin, it told me. There's something you must do.
The wind bore me up and up, away from the sea and away from the shore, towards the stars above. I spread out my arms, and my cloak was a pair of glorious white wings, and I was flying. Exhilarated. Free. The whole world stretched below me, and in the night, the glittering lights of ships and coastal towns mirrored the firmament above. It was wonderful; I was so happy that I laughed aloud. I flew fast. Faster than the wind; I could feel myself leaving it behind me as my heart surged in my chest.
I barely had time to see the column of water that shot out of the ocean before I flew right into it; hitting it jarred my entire body, as though I'd slammed into a solid wall, and then I was inside it, my very skin being flayed by the freezing water. I felt the agony of all of my feathers being stripped away as I was buffeted this way and that, until up was down and down was up. I tumbled, helpless, lost, stripped bare by the force of the sea. Stripped of wind, and stars, and home.
When the waters receded, I found myself stepping with bare feet on soft, loamy ground, my Mercy's robe gleaming so bright that it glowed with its own faint white light. The water had stripped away everything about me that was dead or dying, everything extraneous, everything that I didn't need, and I was left clean and pure. Ready. I heard a voice in the echo of my silent footsteps. There's something you must do. I raised my head, and saw the hungry dark of a tunnel like a wound that carved itself deep into the earth. This time, I didn't hesitate.
I was ready.
The wind bore me up and up, away from the sea and away from the shore, towards the stars above. I spread out my arms, and my cloak was a pair of glorious white wings, and I was flying. Exhilarated. Free. The whole world stretched below me, and in the night, the glittering lights of ships and coastal towns mirrored the firmament above. It was wonderful; I was so happy that I laughed aloud. I flew fast. Faster than the wind; I could feel myself leaving it behind me as my heart surged in my chest.
I barely had time to see the column of water that shot out of the ocean before I flew right into it; hitting it jarred my entire body, as though I'd slammed into a solid wall, and then I was inside it, my very skin being flayed by the freezing water. I felt the agony of all of my feathers being stripped away as I was buffeted this way and that, until up was down and down was up. I tumbled, helpless, lost, stripped bare by the force of the sea. Stripped of wind, and stars, and home.
When the waters receded, I found myself stepping with bare feet on soft, loamy ground, my Mercy's robe gleaming so bright that it glowed with its own faint white light. The water had stripped away everything about me that was dead or dying, everything extraneous, everything that I didn't need, and I was left clean and pure. Ready. I heard a voice in the echo of my silent footsteps. There's something you must do. I raised my head, and saw the hungry dark of a tunnel like a wound that carved itself deep into the earth. This time, I didn't hesitate.
I was ready.
Written By Rey
Jan. 31, 2018, 1:34 p.m.(1/25/1008 AR)
I dreamed of the chained man, again. I felt the weight of the earth and sea and sky pressing down on me as I approached his throne and driven down by the very weight of the atmosphere, I curtsied to him. He passed me his cup, the way he usually does, but when I looked inside, I saw not sorrow or seawater but light, a pure, wonderful golden light that swelled my soul inside me just from looking at it. I looked up at him, a question in my eyes, and I saw an answer in his. He nodded, more, in that moment, like a king than a prisoner, even though I saw tears glinting on his cheeks. Holding the cup of light carefully in both my hands, I set out on my way.
The glow of his spirit lit my way as I moved deeper into the earth, deeper and deeper still, into the dark, stale air of a tomb. My step echoed in the close space as I moved inside, and the chill of death, death beyond time, pressed in around me, but I wasn't afraid. In the center of the room, a man made of stone lay on a bier, under several swords suspended on fine threads. He could have been nothing but a statue, an effigy for a dead man, but I knew that he wasn't an effigy, and he wasn't dead. He was waiting. Waiting for me. It was for him that I had come.
Moving carefully, I sat on the edge of the bier and, as though he were one of my patients at the House of Solace, lifted him with one arm so I could put the cup to his lips. He wasn't as heavy as I expected him to be, or maybe I was stronger than I thought I was. He didn't stir at first, and the light stained his motionless stone lips with a smear of gold. But soon he took the cup of light from me and drank greedy droughts, and I could feel him warming in my arms as the light of the chained man's spirit filled him. He looked at me with eyes that were cut sapphires, and together, we rose from the bier. The Knight of Stone selected his sword from among the ones suspended above him, and held out his hand to me. He, with all of his strength, was so gentle when I took it. I went with him, he, with his sword and all of his strength to protect me, and me, with my cup of light to heal him when he needed it. Neither of us could have done what we set out to do alone.
Together, we emerged at last from beneath the earth, and the sight of the sky stretching overhead took my breath away. A thousand little pinpricks of light, like diamonds scattered on a piece of velvet, lit up the night. Earth stretched below us, and sky stretched above, as we stepped at last into the fresh air and began our journey.
The glow of his spirit lit my way as I moved deeper into the earth, deeper and deeper still, into the dark, stale air of a tomb. My step echoed in the close space as I moved inside, and the chill of death, death beyond time, pressed in around me, but I wasn't afraid. In the center of the room, a man made of stone lay on a bier, under several swords suspended on fine threads. He could have been nothing but a statue, an effigy for a dead man, but I knew that he wasn't an effigy, and he wasn't dead. He was waiting. Waiting for me. It was for him that I had come.
Moving carefully, I sat on the edge of the bier and, as though he were one of my patients at the House of Solace, lifted him with one arm so I could put the cup to his lips. He wasn't as heavy as I expected him to be, or maybe I was stronger than I thought I was. He didn't stir at first, and the light stained his motionless stone lips with a smear of gold. But soon he took the cup of light from me and drank greedy droughts, and I could feel him warming in my arms as the light of the chained man's spirit filled him. He looked at me with eyes that were cut sapphires, and together, we rose from the bier. The Knight of Stone selected his sword from among the ones suspended above him, and held out his hand to me. He, with all of his strength, was so gentle when I took it. I went with him, he, with his sword and all of his strength to protect me, and me, with my cup of light to heal him when he needed it. Neither of us could have done what we set out to do alone.
Together, we emerged at last from beneath the earth, and the sight of the sky stretching overhead took my breath away. A thousand little pinpricks of light, like diamonds scattered on a piece of velvet, lit up the night. Earth stretched below us, and sky stretched above, as we stepped at last into the fresh air and began our journey.
Written By Rey
Jan. 23, 2018, 8:58 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
I didn't know, at first, that I was dreaming. It was one those dreams that's almost like the normal world sharpened to a point. I was brushing my hair, and every detail of that act sprang into perfect focus, like looking at reality through a curved lense. The strokes of the brush, the way that I saw it pass over my hair and felt it tugging of its bristles, the smell of my hair, the sound like a whisper of silk on silk as I pulled the little tangles apart. The banality should have crushing, the sheer essence of something that I do every single day, but maybe that wasn't the point. Maybe the point was absolute clarity, stripped down and pure.
But maybe it wasn't, because I had this feeling, while I was brushing and brushing and brushing, like everything around me, everything that I saw and felt and sensed with such perfect clarity, wasn't real anymore. It was all drained of color, past its prime. I brushed and brushed, listened to the whisper of the brush through my hair, saw my hair gleam silver in the pale, weak winter sun, and I thought that maybe this wasn't the life I should be living. The thought built inside me until it became a need, but even as my heart screamed more and more to shed the world like a snake sheds its skin, I couldn't stop my hands from brushing and brushing. It was with a wrench of will that I looked up from my hair and realized that everything around me -- my bed, the dresser, even the walls and floor were made of cleverly crafted paper. They had always been that way. How had I never noticed? Then I looked down and saw that even my hairbrush was nothing but a papercraft toy.
That's when I heard the singing.
Dozens of voices, maybe hundreds, all singing together, sweet, somehow in perfect harmony. They were just outside my window, and I knew they were singing to me. I wish I could remember the lyrics to the song. The lyrics seemed so important at the time.
'It's not the truth/It's just a dream...'
'Sometimes you need to be lost/Just to be found...'
I ran across the paper floor to my paper window, threw back shutters made of crepe, and looked out. They all stood on the square far below my window, looking up at me. Men. Women. Children. Holding hands and looking up at me as they sang. And all of them, all of them with faces of marble that glowed with a soft golden light. All of that light should have blinded me. All of those voices should have deafened me. But it was all so gentle, like being overwhelmed by velvet.
I wanted to go to them. Oh, I wanted to go to them. I yearned for it with everything in my being. I longed so deeply to put off my pretend paper life and go to what was real and what was beautiful. I reached out to them... And that's when I saw that my hand was made of paper, too.
One by one, the singers began to wink out like dying stars, the glow of their faces going, and the glow of their voices fading away one after another. Finally there was only one woman down there, looking up at me, singing with a delicate voice that I could barely hear. I begged her not to go, but she didn't belong there with me in my dying paper world. She stayed as long as she could, stayed for me, for her love of me, before she winked out, too. I didn't even dare cry, because my cheeks were made of paper.
With my soul sinking down through the floor, I turned away from the window, and found myself in the tall arched room again, its enormous pillars holding back all of the weight of the world, facing the chained man. I stepped towards him as he offered me his cup of sorrows.
But maybe it wasn't, because I had this feeling, while I was brushing and brushing and brushing, like everything around me, everything that I saw and felt and sensed with such perfect clarity, wasn't real anymore. It was all drained of color, past its prime. I brushed and brushed, listened to the whisper of the brush through my hair, saw my hair gleam silver in the pale, weak winter sun, and I thought that maybe this wasn't the life I should be living. The thought built inside me until it became a need, but even as my heart screamed more and more to shed the world like a snake sheds its skin, I couldn't stop my hands from brushing and brushing. It was with a wrench of will that I looked up from my hair and realized that everything around me -- my bed, the dresser, even the walls and floor were made of cleverly crafted paper. They had always been that way. How had I never noticed? Then I looked down and saw that even my hairbrush was nothing but a papercraft toy.
That's when I heard the singing.
Dozens of voices, maybe hundreds, all singing together, sweet, somehow in perfect harmony. They were just outside my window, and I knew they were singing to me. I wish I could remember the lyrics to the song. The lyrics seemed so important at the time.
'It's not the truth/It's just a dream...'
'Sometimes you need to be lost/Just to be found...'
I ran across the paper floor to my paper window, threw back shutters made of crepe, and looked out. They all stood on the square far below my window, looking up at me. Men. Women. Children. Holding hands and looking up at me as they sang. And all of them, all of them with faces of marble that glowed with a soft golden light. All of that light should have blinded me. All of those voices should have deafened me. But it was all so gentle, like being overwhelmed by velvet.
I wanted to go to them. Oh, I wanted to go to them. I yearned for it with everything in my being. I longed so deeply to put off my pretend paper life and go to what was real and what was beautiful. I reached out to them... And that's when I saw that my hand was made of paper, too.
One by one, the singers began to wink out like dying stars, the glow of their faces going, and the glow of their voices fading away one after another. Finally there was only one woman down there, looking up at me, singing with a delicate voice that I could barely hear. I begged her not to go, but she didn't belong there with me in my dying paper world. She stayed as long as she could, stayed for me, for her love of me, before she winked out, too. I didn't even dare cry, because my cheeks were made of paper.
With my soul sinking down through the floor, I turned away from the window, and found myself in the tall arched room again, its enormous pillars holding back all of the weight of the world, facing the chained man. I stepped towards him as he offered me his cup of sorrows.
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