Written By Denica
Jan. 15, 2017, 7:23 p.m.(9/3/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Dagon
Dagon. My big brother. Tis so warming to my heart to be in his presence once more; to take in his sweet nature, that which is a warm echo of that of our parents. He disassembles my darkest thoughts with his easy words, so thoroughly that I may simply forget all the woes of Arvum outside of our walls. I wish to make him proud--not perhaps with the same desperation as I do Donella, but as I would want mother and father to. And I wish to be of comfort, too. I must wear my smile freely, even when my fears work to mute it.
Written By Denica
Jan. 6, 2017, 3:25 p.m.(8/4/1005 AR)
This entry is written in a familiar looping script, the page opposite detailing a drawing of a triangular pattern; one bird below two, four before the last two, eight, and so on. It lessens in perspective, as if the flock is flying from the first, growing infinitely small.
It seems that I am some ill omen, having come to Arx to see all of Arvum fall apart at its seams!
Last eve was the Assembly of Peers. The regent stepped down, but not before pushing a vote to commit a blood rite with the Nox'Alfar. It seemed as if she had already agreed to, saying that the elves recognized her as the Compact. They say that for the Tiend thirteen men must sacrifice their lives: thirteen. This number cannot be shrugged off, nor can the will of Arx's foremost leaders to commit to blood rites at the insistence of those whose last ritual stole the soul of their king.
They too said that there are traitors amongst us, agents of those that would have Arvum fall: how are we to trust? One must trust by action over words. And long ago, the act of committing blood magic was banned by our forefathers. It is abhorrent to those of faith! Have all lost their minds? Not all; Prince Darren of Redrain exercised a critical mind (which I admit my grandfather described as 'dithering'), and Prince Tristram of Valardin spoke against the rite (after his poor hand nearly fell off, and notably after the Regent had declared her decision).
Last eve I had a dream; the birds were two, then four, eight, sixteen--they continued in this fashion, filling the sky. No one is bound to fate, not I, not anyone. No one is stripped of decision. Our fates are infinite, our paths spread like branches on a great tree.
There is never any 'must'. There is only possibility and responsibility. Courage and cowardice.
May Jayus touch my heart to seal it against fear.
Princess Denica of Thrax
Written By Denica
Jan. 5, 2017, 6:36 p.m.(8/1/1005 AR)
This entry has a drawing accompanying it on the previous page, visible when spread flat. Black ink is drawn in an unbroken circular line, over and over, until the pit of it is solid pitch with no page to lend it light.
As a child I believed in the secret truths of fables. Even though they frightened me, I wanted to believe that there were monsters, such that there was something to blame for the occurance of evil. I wanted to believe it not the sole responsibility of man. That it wasn't something inherent within us.
Monsters. Sometimes I thought I could feel them I was drawing in nature, darkly slinking behind bushes. When I readied to snuff the light before bed. In the pitch darkness of my bed chamber, eyes wide open, feeling cold, stale breath upon me. I was told that the time of monsters was over, and eventually, I came to accept that. We, humankind, were the sole monsters left.
And still, we were capable of such beauty. How can something so evil be capable of perceiving beauty? Of creating it?
Through painting I came to comprehend Jayus' teachings so clearly; there is not just white or black, but a myriad of color. People are complicated, they take on the hues and shades of their experience, and it changes their expression. Life itself is holy light through colored glass, without it, we would be but bodies in darkness. Nothing is white or black, but shadow still exists where light does not.
If those with more settled minds than I can accept that monsters are real, what does that mean for me?
I say the words: "Eyes, mind and heart bring dreams; mine I consecrate to Jayus", but do I mean them, whole-heartedly?
I musn't be afraid.
Written By Denica
Jan. 4, 2017, 2:01 p.m.(7/26/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Donella
This entry is written in the usual looping script, though it appears as if a concerted effort has been employed to keep the page clean, free of splotches or crossed out words.
In Whose Shadow I Stand
Donella. I knew her shadow was big enough to cast over me all the way from Arx to Maelstrom, did I ever expect it not to be deeper and darker in close proximity? I have changed since we were children--I have changed indeed since last year!--but it takes such a long time to impress that change upon the expectations of others, if even possible.
I am not complaining, really. I know I brought this on myself. I traded the currency of my reputation away, burned it for reasons even I cannot defend, now, as being little more than a need for personal importance, for attention. These two things Donella has amassed through sheer wit and force of will. I, stupidly, never conceived of that until recently.
In Whose Shadow I Stand, also known as: The Everlasting Plight of the Younger Sister
Princess Denica of Thrax
P.S.: I suppose I'm getting the hang of this.
Written By Denica
Jan. 3, 2017, 3:09 a.m.(7/22/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Max
((The fine vellum has written upon it some looping script, rather more sloppy than other entries.))
Lest I never write another page in this volume, I must resist the hesitation to add the most trite or insignificant events. Therefore, a recording of a visit to the Ebb commences hereto forth:
I gave my guards the slip, no easy feat, and I must take a moment to bask in that achievement, brief though it was. I was so very grateful to have left the crusty castle of my youth, only to fall into the cloying care of six guards, whom I assume my lord grandfather has set upon me for reasons doublefold: to keep me from trouble, and trouble from me.
'Tis a shame I'm so wed to it.
Aye, I gave them the slip and found myself at the Ebb, whereupon I took drink with the Count Maximillian and a Miss Alarie under the premise of being a commoner. 'Tis nice, sometimes, to hear what frank words spill out from others when you are not so shielded from it by nature of your blood. Even still, my heckles raise at foul language, and I felt blood come to my cheeks at some minor insult I came to bear. I imagine the cheap drink had something to do with it. A fun time it was all the same, to feel a whiff of autonomy, even at the cost of the silliness I promised myself to swallow. 'Tis such a very big thing to swallow! I might choke upon it!
Yours Most Devilishly,
Princess Denica
Written By Denica
May 16, 2016, 7:55 p.m.(7/4/1003 AR)
((Written on fine vellum, in black ink and often flourishing script, which occasionally teeters between a steady and terribly unsteady hand))
So I'm not really sure how to start, but I haven't exactly been doing as the scribes of Vellichor so earnestly advocate. Still, it's been suggested to me that by beginning one of these 'White Journals,' I would better embody the image of a 'proper noblewoman.' And the heavens forbid (also, dearest Grandfather) I act like some undomesticated thrall while representing the exalted House of Thrax. So, here goes:
At long last, I've left that crusty old castle floating in the eastern sea. As of this writing, I am sitting in the back of a carriage on its way to the grand city of Arx. May Lagoma sail me to new beginnings and unforgettable excitement! Of course, I do not doubt that Grandfather Thrax intends this as an opportunity to marry me away, so I can 'bestow headaches upon some other man.' Still, I won't let that bring me down. This is an adventure, and not even my family's scheming can stop me from enjoying it. Along the way, I saw all sorts of different flora and fauna too lovely and graceful to ever have the faintest chance of surviving along the salty Mourning Isles. I managed to put over a dozen to sketchpad, and can hardly wait to arrive so I can paint them in all their glory. This morning, I heard the most achingly beautiful songbird chirping away in the trees. I would have found it too, if I just had a few more hours of freedom, while the servants enjoyed breakfast. But naturally, my brackish guards strongly advised me to stay near the caravan, so I didn't get the chance. Part of me still can't believe they threatened to tell on me to Grandfather. But gods, I'm sure it looks as enchanting as it sounds. Maybe later, I can bribe some more agreeable sorts to escort me outside the city limits. Until then, I'll be busy immortalizing the plants and animals I did see on canvas, and exploring Arx in all its highly esteemed glory.
A thousand years ago, the place was just a tiny little unremarkable fortress. Today, every single great house is represented in the five of its nine different wards. People of all walks of life live here, from cultures that run the gamut of the entire Compact. It will be delightful to walk through the markets, collecting gorgeous dresses and dazzling trinkets as a reminder of my time spent here. Perhaps even more exciting, I've heard many other nobles, from Redrain to Velenosa, live here. Which means I'll have the chance to meet and greet more remarkable people than I can count. Maybe I'll even get to see the King himself! Wishful thinking, I know, but perhaps his Voice will let me see him, or even draw him (hint, hint). It would be an incredible honor to be one of the few artists distinguished enough to put his royal visage to canvas. Anyway, we're just about to reach the gate to the city, and I don't want to miss my own dramatic entrance. Adventure awaits!
Princess Denica, the Little Devil of Thrax (better to own the moniker than leave it open for ridicule!)
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.