Written By Serafine
March 21, 2018, 1:25 a.m.(5/24/1008 AR)
Let it be that upon my death, my blacks are to be released to my sister, Eleyna Velenosa, with an equal copy going to Leta Broadbent. Between the both of them, they can decide what gets made public and what does not. This entry, however, will be made public.
I want it known in the history of our people, in these pages we keep for the generations to come, that would it not further divide the Compact and stress out my family, I would marry Leta Broadbent. As I understand that political climes are not accepting of it, and my beloved cares not for such things, I care.
I care that the woman I love, though many find the fault in her birth as commoner, she shines to me more glorious than any Queen, King, Princess, or Star; that I love her, and in my heart and in my home, I call her 'wife', because she is to me in all the ways that matter.
I invoke Vellichor to keep this singular fact true, that the world will remember, that Serafine Athalie Velenosa loved Leta Broadbent until the very end of her days, with every inch of her soul.
Queen of Endings, if you could stall my turn on the Wheel to have me meet her again in the next life, that we might love again, I would be your servant.
I want it known in the history of our people, in these pages we keep for the generations to come, that would it not further divide the Compact and stress out my family, I would marry Leta Broadbent. As I understand that political climes are not accepting of it, and my beloved cares not for such things, I care.
I care that the woman I love, though many find the fault in her birth as commoner, she shines to me more glorious than any Queen, King, Princess, or Star; that I love her, and in my heart and in my home, I call her 'wife', because she is to me in all the ways that matter.
I invoke Vellichor to keep this singular fact true, that the world will remember, that Serafine Athalie Velenosa loved Leta Broadbent until the very end of her days, with every inch of her soul.
Queen of Endings, if you could stall my turn on the Wheel to have me meet her again in the next life, that we might love again, I would be your servant.
Written By Serafine
March 20, 2018, 1:23 a.m.(5/22/1008 AR)
(Also written on a heavily stained note delivered from Setarco, in fact on the other side of Leta Broadbent's and copied for posterity. With notes.)
Nothing says true love like holding your beloved's hands as they pee over the battlements while dressed in plate, in the middle of a war.
Nothing says true love like holding your beloved's hands as they pee over the battlements while dressed in plate, in the middle of a war.
Written By Serafine
March 19, 2018, 6:08 p.m.(5/21/1008 AR)
In five days it will have been three years.
I thought my story was finished. I'm surprised it is not. What a wonder! Think I can find a bit of blank skin to mark down the occasion?
Calipers. This will require calipers.
Scholar? Where can I find-
I thought my story was finished. I'm surprised it is not. What a wonder! Think I can find a bit of blank skin to mark down the occasion?
Calipers. This will require calipers.
Scholar? Where can I find-
Written By Serafine
March 19, 2018, 2:29 p.m.(5/21/1008 AR)
I expect emotional responses to one's integrity being questioned. That's rather normal.
What's funny, however, is an outright example of jealousy made painfully clear in the middle of a fucking war. We don't have time to question everything in hindsight, we don't have the luxury to wonder, in the heat of battle, hmm, if I do this, will everyone question me over it? Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should just sit here and let someone else sort it out.
No. You react. It's what you do when you fight, when you defend, when there's a weapon in your hand and you see comrades fall or the defenseless attacked. You react.
In my opinion, and as a soldier, not a noblewoman, the only time I will ever question the actions of a fellow fighter in the midst of a gods-damned conflict, is if they're running -off- the battlefield. Or whining -on- it.
What's funny, however, is an outright example of jealousy made painfully clear in the middle of a fucking war. We don't have time to question everything in hindsight, we don't have the luxury to wonder, in the heat of battle, hmm, if I do this, will everyone question me over it? Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should just sit here and let someone else sort it out.
No. You react. It's what you do when you fight, when you defend, when there's a weapon in your hand and you see comrades fall or the defenseless attacked. You react.
In my opinion, and as a soldier, not a noblewoman, the only time I will ever question the actions of a fellow fighter in the midst of a gods-damned conflict, is if they're running -off- the battlefield. Or whining -on- it.
Written By Serafine
March 19, 2018, 12:12 p.m.(5/21/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Mydas
At the tender age of 17, didn't we all feel like we knew better than our elders?
Written By Serafine
March 19, 2018, 11:24 a.m.(5/21/1008 AR)
I expected a fortnight or more before battlefield decisions were openly questioned in the Whites. That's just good manners, isn't it?
Written By Serafine
March 19, 2018, 1:57 a.m.(5/20/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Saoirse
Sometimes, literally.
Written By Serafine
March 19, 2018, 12:57 a.m.(5/20/1008 AR)
So many tentacles. They just wouldn't stop coming.
I'm craving calamari now like you would not -believe-.
I'm craving calamari now like you would not -believe-.
Written By Serafine
March 18, 2018, 4:28 p.m.(5/19/1008 AR)
Food's amazing. Woman's amazing. I like dragging her around the southern territories. Everything is new again because of her.
I can't complain. Is it wrong to feel so excited and content with my place in the world?
I can't complain. Is it wrong to feel so excited and content with my place in the world?
Written By Serafine
March 5, 2018, 6:13 p.m.(4/21/1008 AR)
What part of 'Grand Duchess of the Lyceum' is hard to interpret?
Written By Serafine
March 5, 2018, 1:51 a.m.(4/20/1008 AR)
Ships make me vomit. I'm glad Leta will be there, woman's right good at swinging and thrusting, but she's also a lovely singer. And she has better fashion sense than I, so while we're off being big damn heroes she'll look great doing it.
It's very hard paying attention to the world when she's being all dashing and handsome. Right annoying, too; no woman has the right to be as perfect as she. Going on three years she's put up with me. I'd follow her to the next life without a fuss, so long as I get to stay with her.
Alright, fine, I'll say it:
Dame Leta Broadbent, I love you. Come Abyss or high-water, I will be at your side. No matter what. Hear me, Arx? I -love- this woman. Until my hair falls out or my blood is spent, that will never change.
It's very hard paying attention to the world when she's being all dashing and handsome. Right annoying, too; no woman has the right to be as perfect as she. Going on three years she's put up with me. I'd follow her to the next life without a fuss, so long as I get to stay with her.
Alright, fine, I'll say it:
Dame Leta Broadbent, I love you. Come Abyss or high-water, I will be at your side. No matter what. Hear me, Arx? I -love- this woman. Until my hair falls out or my blood is spent, that will never change.
Written By Serafine
March 2, 2018, 2:26 a.m.(4/14/1008 AR)
Please don't buy any of Mistress Saya's work. It's beautiful and I want to keep it all for myself.
Written By Serafine
March 1, 2018, 10:30 a.m.(4/13/1008 AR)
If they are as 'ravenous' as suggested, I suppose use less honey on the wounded?
Written By Serafine
Feb. 26, 2018, 11:51 p.m.(4/8/1008 AR)
My woman has a better sense of style than I, it's true. Handsome as any, she is, dashing as any hero I've ever seen. She's got a way with color and design that makes you look twice and linger there, she saunters like she knows there ain't no better thing than the swagger in those warrior's legs.
Me? I put on what she lays out so as not to embarrass her, but I tell you, it makes her an easy mark to rile her up:
I wear clothing that doesn't match just to fuck with her.
Me? I put on what she lays out so as not to embarrass her, but I tell you, it makes her an easy mark to rile her up:
I wear clothing that doesn't match just to fuck with her.
Written By Serafine
Feb. 26, 2018, 11:49 p.m.(4/8/1008 AR)
Watching these toddlers in the Arena when they don't know I'm there is an exercise in restraint. Like armed peacocks on parade half the time, and the ones that might actually be worth something on the battlefield aren't always taken seriously.
Who gives a shit if you're born in the muck or on silk sheets, beyond the walls of the city or in it, in a house or under open sky. It don't matter if you've had training your whole life or you learned it on the wing, or if you can duel with the likes of the Champions or fall on your ass like drunken fool.
When it counts, if you have the steel to look the rage that's coming in the face, still lift your weapon and not run away, you're a fighter to the bone.
That's all that matters.
Who gives a shit if you're born in the muck or on silk sheets, beyond the walls of the city or in it, in a house or under open sky. It don't matter if you've had training your whole life or you learned it on the wing, or if you can duel with the likes of the Champions or fall on your ass like drunken fool.
When it counts, if you have the steel to look the rage that's coming in the face, still lift your weapon and not run away, you're a fighter to the bone.
That's all that matters.
Written By Serafine
Feb. 12, 2018, 2:36 a.m.(2/28/1008 AR)
Don't have a way with words like some, but when the light shines in her eyes, I feel the poet in me stir. That playful quirk of love or madness, hard to say, but I suspect a measure equal in both.
The hue of her skin clashes against mine, the cinnamon velvet to pale luster when fingers tangle together. Princess, aye, I am, but the manners of many born lower in the eyes of laws are so much more refined than mine. It's there in her, that willful stubbornness that bends me to her whims, to take better care of myself for her sake.
She is the most human person I know, with flaws that shine as bright and perfect as the diamonds in my sister's coronet.
Perhaps the love is all my beloved's, and the madness all mine.
The hue of her skin clashes against mine, the cinnamon velvet to pale luster when fingers tangle together. Princess, aye, I am, but the manners of many born lower in the eyes of laws are so much more refined than mine. It's there in her, that willful stubbornness that bends me to her whims, to take better care of myself for her sake.
She is the most human person I know, with flaws that shine as bright and perfect as the diamonds in my sister's coronet.
Perhaps the love is all my beloved's, and the madness all mine.
Written By Serafine
Feb. 2, 2018, 3:18 p.m.(2/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Eleyna
Our father offers, as ever, the worst, most convoluted advice. Remember that time he made us pretend to hate the fuck out of each other so the world would never know we were secretly allies against it? That was a great lesson, before you'd even reached the age of ten, wasn't it? Shows you what kind of father he is, what kind of intentions he had.
And if you're reading this Marik, your heartbreaking lessons brought nothing but years of confusion and secrecy between two little girls that only wanted to love each other in the sun, not clutch each other shaking in the shadows, praying we didn't earn your ire.
And if you're reading this Marik, your heartbreaking lessons brought nothing but years of confusion and secrecy between two little girls that only wanted to love each other in the sun, not clutch each other shaking in the shadows, praying we didn't earn your ire.
Written By Serafine
Jan. 30, 2018, 6:58 p.m.(1/24/1008 AR)
"Saw it on a quiet morning,
Early sky in purple dawning,
Resting where no one would sow it:
A wild thistle, proudly sitting.
Fearful of its leafy swords,
I still plucked it lightly for,
Not that many people know it,
Every petal's fit for eating."
See, scholar? It spells my -name-. Isn't it beautiful? Flows from the tongue like a deep kiss.
Early sky in purple dawning,
Resting where no one would sow it:
A wild thistle, proudly sitting.
Fearful of its leafy swords,
I still plucked it lightly for,
Not that many people know it,
Every petal's fit for eating."
See, scholar? It spells my -name-. Isn't it beautiful? Flows from the tongue like a deep kiss.
Written By Serafine
Jan. 30, 2018, 6:04 p.m.(1/24/1008 AR)
My beloved writes me poetry. Is it strange that a Knight can swoon over such things, clutch her heart and feel her cheeks burn with the fire of sweet lust and tender endearment? She does this to me. It makes it hard to breathe around her sometimes. Does she know how much I adore her? Does she know I'd live for her as much as I would bleed in the dust for her happiness? I pray she does. And if not, I'll do my best to show her that this is so.
Written By Serafine
Jan. 28, 2018, 9:38 p.m.(1/20/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Apollis
How disappointing.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.