Written By Mattheu
April 23, 2022, 9:19 p.m.(7/9/1017 AR)
Beaches, bonfires, dancing, running along sands to roll within a surf. The summer party is the best to meet people at and release away from thoughts holding us back.
Written By Kritr
April 23, 2022, 8:11 p.m.(7/9/1017 AR)
This is a story I heard in the very far North. They do not have much to write with in the Everwinter, so these stories are passed down through their spoken traditions. It may not resemble the original telling much at all, and it may not have any meaning at all beyond an interesting story.
A Fox and a Rabbit loved each other very much. Some say that this is not the natural order of things, and they may be right, but that is the sort of love these two had for each other. It upset the natural order of things. But though their life was long and full of love, there are enemies that love cannot defeat. In a space of time, the Rabbit died and the fox grieved.
After a long period of grieving, Fox too grew old. His mind dwelt in the younger, less painful days of his youth, before he had met rabbit. These days were filled with snow, and life was only the hunt and the struggle for survival. He knew not love, nor did he know the pain of love in these memories, but that which is loved cannot ever truly be forgotten.
Fox, now approaching his twilight years, spending less and less of them in full command of his faculties, sought out a Siren. The siren then was only a little mad, and her song did not kill, it only summoned forth memories of the past so perfectly that they could step from one to the next like turning the page of a book.
To his surprise, when the Fox met the siren, she bowed to him and stilled her song. She called the fox the ‘Changer of Worlds’ and when asked gladly agreed to show Fox the memories of Rabbit that he had forgotten. The green fields in which they had married. The city they had lived in. The sun that had shone on them. And it was in the middle of these memories that Fox tricked the siren. He blew sand into her eyes and grasping her tail he held on as she darted away from him into the very time of those memories, like stepping from one page in a book to the next.
When the Siren learned she had been tricked, she was very angry with Fox. She told him that even the Changer of Worlds had no right to meddle with time itself. She warned him that there could not be two Foxes in one time, and that one or the other must fade away. Fox bared his teeth and swore an oath that he would tear out his own throat if it meant living the life he had loved with Rabbit one more time.
But the Siren sang a song. It was a beautiful song that captured not just the brightest parts of Fox’s memories of Rabbit, but also the low. The times when they could not find fuel for a fire to warm them. When the sun did not shine and floods threatened. When food was short and tempers were shorter. Times when Fox and Rabbit were not happy. When they were angry at each other. And the Siren sang about how the love of Fox and Rabbit transcended those troubles. Fox understood Siren’s meaning and relented. He knew that to relive the choices he had made in the past with Rabbit would be to second guess those choices, to dishonor them.
So Fox let himself fade away, and returned to his own time, to his frail, senile body. Lying there on the beach with Siren, the Fox uttered the words: “I wish…” But the Siren did not let him finish that sentence, interrupting him. She said to Fox:
“Do not wish. Wishes are terrible things. When you wish something into existence, it changes only that thing. All the other things that already existed must fit in around that thing. A wish is the pretense that someone can only love one thing, and when they choose that thing above all else, everything else does not matter and will fit in around the edges. But it is not possible to have only one love and forget the rest, because that which is loved cannot be forgotten. Besides, your wish would not have saved her.”
Old and weak, senile and dazed, the Fox was still cunning enough to hear what the Siren left unsaid. He leapt upon the Siren’s tail again and startled her back into the past, his resolve renewed.
“So she can be saved…”
That is the first half of the story. I think I will return to the Everwinter and try to find the second half of the story.
A Fox and a Rabbit loved each other very much. Some say that this is not the natural order of things, and they may be right, but that is the sort of love these two had for each other. It upset the natural order of things. But though their life was long and full of love, there are enemies that love cannot defeat. In a space of time, the Rabbit died and the fox grieved.
After a long period of grieving, Fox too grew old. His mind dwelt in the younger, less painful days of his youth, before he had met rabbit. These days were filled with snow, and life was only the hunt and the struggle for survival. He knew not love, nor did he know the pain of love in these memories, but that which is loved cannot ever truly be forgotten.
Fox, now approaching his twilight years, spending less and less of them in full command of his faculties, sought out a Siren. The siren then was only a little mad, and her song did not kill, it only summoned forth memories of the past so perfectly that they could step from one to the next like turning the page of a book.
To his surprise, when the Fox met the siren, she bowed to him and stilled her song. She called the fox the ‘Changer of Worlds’ and when asked gladly agreed to show Fox the memories of Rabbit that he had forgotten. The green fields in which they had married. The city they had lived in. The sun that had shone on them. And it was in the middle of these memories that Fox tricked the siren. He blew sand into her eyes and grasping her tail he held on as she darted away from him into the very time of those memories, like stepping from one page in a book to the next.
When the Siren learned she had been tricked, she was very angry with Fox. She told him that even the Changer of Worlds had no right to meddle with time itself. She warned him that there could not be two Foxes in one time, and that one or the other must fade away. Fox bared his teeth and swore an oath that he would tear out his own throat if it meant living the life he had loved with Rabbit one more time.
But the Siren sang a song. It was a beautiful song that captured not just the brightest parts of Fox’s memories of Rabbit, but also the low. The times when they could not find fuel for a fire to warm them. When the sun did not shine and floods threatened. When food was short and tempers were shorter. Times when Fox and Rabbit were not happy. When they were angry at each other. And the Siren sang about how the love of Fox and Rabbit transcended those troubles. Fox understood Siren’s meaning and relented. He knew that to relive the choices he had made in the past with Rabbit would be to second guess those choices, to dishonor them.
So Fox let himself fade away, and returned to his own time, to his frail, senile body. Lying there on the beach with Siren, the Fox uttered the words: “I wish…” But the Siren did not let him finish that sentence, interrupting him. She said to Fox:
“Do not wish. Wishes are terrible things. When you wish something into existence, it changes only that thing. All the other things that already existed must fit in around that thing. A wish is the pretense that someone can only love one thing, and when they choose that thing above all else, everything else does not matter and will fit in around the edges. But it is not possible to have only one love and forget the rest, because that which is loved cannot be forgotten. Besides, your wish would not have saved her.”
Old and weak, senile and dazed, the Fox was still cunning enough to hear what the Siren left unsaid. He leapt upon the Siren’s tail again and startled her back into the past, his resolve renewed.
“So she can be saved…”
That is the first half of the story. I think I will return to the Everwinter and try to find the second half of the story.
Written By Ailys
April 23, 2022, 7:23 p.m.(7/9/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Amari
Baroness Redire gave me such a lovely tour of the Valardin ward. Now I know where all the best drinking cows are kept!
Written By Lisebet
April 23, 2022, 3:32 p.m.(7/8/1017 AR)
I am quite certain that I managed to startle Harlan the other day. Not by coming home with some cake on my outfit - i am fairly certain that has happened before.
Yes, well, we do like events that involve cake, after all, here in Arx.
in any event, it was far more that I brought home a puppy. me. A puppy.
Crumble the Catastrophic Monster - son of Toffee. Or something like that. My name is not anywhere near as wonderful as the Queen's though. And that is just as it should be.
Yes, well, we do like events that involve cake, after all, here in Arx.
in any event, it was far more that I brought home a puppy. me. A puppy.
Crumble the Catastrophic Monster - son of Toffee. Or something like that. My name is not anywhere near as wonderful as the Queen's though. And that is just as it should be.
Written By Ilira
April 23, 2022, 1:45 p.m.(7/8/1017 AR)
Gods, I missed summer.
Written By Xia
April 23, 2022, 11:34 a.m.(7/8/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Denica
This week I have had the pleasure of the company of many. I have experienced coffee for the first time - something I find quite intriguing and will be buying for the Mission. I have talked of dancing, of politics, of poetry and war. Yet the one meeting that comes to mind over and over was my meeting with Princess Denica of House Thrax.
Princess Denica had requested that I describe to her a place that no one else had been, at least no other Arvani. I did so on her barge, a particularly interesting place, and watched as she took my words and made them into a painting. The Princess could not capture my memory in full, but that is an inadequacy on my part in describing it and not in hers for painting. But she did share with me what she has accomplished and I am not ashamed to say I shed a few years.
Hanging now in the vestibule of the Mission is the painting that Princess Denica painted. It is a memory of home made manifest. And while it was my memory I could not keep it to myself, but rather had to share it with all who come to visit or call the Mission home.
Princess Denica had requested that I describe to her a place that no one else had been, at least no other Arvani. I did so on her barge, a particularly interesting place, and watched as she took my words and made them into a painting. The Princess could not capture my memory in full, but that is an inadequacy on my part in describing it and not in hers for painting. But she did share with me what she has accomplished and I am not ashamed to say I shed a few years.
Hanging now in the vestibule of the Mission is the painting that Princess Denica painted. It is a memory of home made manifest. And while it was my memory I could not keep it to myself, but rather had to share it with all who come to visit or call the Mission home.
Written By Celine
April 23, 2022, 7:13 a.m.(7/8/1017 AR)
I rescued a kitten. Or more correctly, I oversaw Champion Caspian Wilde's rescue of a kitten. It could have gone more smoothly than it did as it wasn't ideal that Caspian lost his grip on the pier and made a hole in the water. Nor was it ideal that in the struggle to remove her armor and jump in to rescue Caspian that my lady cousin Terese toppled over the edge and made a second hole in the water.
The point is, I rescued a kitten.
He's quite feral and ferocious for such a small thing, and I have named him Supreme Overlord Abraxus after a dragon in a childhood book.
The point is, I rescued a kitten.
He's quite feral and ferocious for such a small thing, and I have named him Supreme Overlord Abraxus after a dragon in a childhood book.
Written By Mabelle
April 23, 2022, 5:47 a.m.(7/8/1017 AR)
It seems puppies and cake go well together.
Too well.
Too well.
Written By Savio
April 22, 2022, 3:03 p.m.(7/6/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Temira
My friend at all missions, fairest or foul
My friend through Haakon's most terrible scowls
My friend in a fight, and a good shot to boot
My friend when she's getting beat up by a lute
My friend with her own rhymes, amusing and clever
My friend is Temira, best girl forever.
My friend through Haakon's most terrible scowls
My friend in a fight, and a good shot to boot
My friend when she's getting beat up by a lute
My friend with her own rhymes, amusing and clever
My friend is Temira, best girl forever.
Written By Piccola
April 22, 2022, 2:07 p.m.(7/6/1017 AR)
Too often the beauty that is thrust upon us is illusory and deceitful.
Instead of bringing us out of ourselves and opening us to horizons of true freedom, it imprisons us within ourselves and further enslaves us. It thereby deprives us of hope and joy. It is a seductive but hypocritical beauty that rekindles desire: it twists us to shackle, possess, and dominate others in jealous cowardice. Thus, does this beauty turn into its opposite, taking on the guise of indecency, transgression, and violence.
Authentic beauty instead unlocks the desire not to possess, but to know, to love, and to journey to the unknown beyond.
Instead of bringing us out of ourselves and opening us to horizons of true freedom, it imprisons us within ourselves and further enslaves us. It thereby deprives us of hope and joy. It is a seductive but hypocritical beauty that rekindles desire: it twists us to shackle, possess, and dominate others in jealous cowardice. Thus, does this beauty turn into its opposite, taking on the guise of indecency, transgression, and violence.
Authentic beauty instead unlocks the desire not to possess, but to know, to love, and to journey to the unknown beyond.
Written By Rosalind
April 22, 2022, 1:18 p.m.(7/6/1017 AR)
It's melting season. I don't think I need to elaborate, right?
Written By Haakon
April 22, 2022, 11:44 a.m.(7/6/1017 AR)
Towers are pig shit.
A pox on their invention, and three curses on the fate that makes storming one a necessity.
A pox on their invention, and three curses on the fate that makes storming one a necessity.
Written By Erik
April 22, 2022, 11:42 a.m.(7/6/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Caspian
A grazing lute, how sweet the blow
That bong'd a wretch like me.
I once was up but now I'm down.
A grazing lute killed me.
That lute has slain ten thousand foes
All sweating in the sun.
I'd no more grace to duck that lute
I was ten thousand one.
That bong'd a wretch like me.
I once was up but now I'm down.
A grazing lute killed me.
That lute has slain ten thousand foes
All sweating in the sun.
I'd no more grace to duck that lute
I was ten thousand one.
Written By Imi
April 22, 2022, 8:28 a.m.(7/6/1017 AR)
Yesterday I was summoned from my free time to meet with the Lord Commander. Dame Eleanor rarely summons me, and I was sure I had done nothing wrong. And it was true! I have been promoted to Knight-Sergeant and given a duty assignment beyond just what gets assigned on rotation. I wish my mom and dad could see this.
Written By Temira
April 22, 2022, 5:24 a.m.(7/5/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Savio
I lost to his lute.
Yes, you heard me right,
a good bonk from a lute is something I quite never experienced before
with the serious wound I shouldn't have sparred with him.
Our lyrical battles are quite often my favorite. although
it is usually who can annoy Haakon instead towards one another.
I digress,
Savio is a close friend I treasure dearly.
We somehow make it through the battles,
for that, I am grateful. I shall always be your best girl. defending you against those who would speak ill of you.
Yes, you heard me right,
a good bonk from a lute is something I quite never experienced before
with the serious wound I shouldn't have sparred with him.
Our lyrical battles are quite often my favorite. although
it is usually who can annoy Haakon instead towards one another.
I digress,
Savio is a close friend I treasure dearly.
We somehow make it through the battles,
for that, I am grateful. I shall always be your best girl. defending you against those who would speak ill of you.
Written By Temira
April 21, 2022, 7:15 p.m.(7/5/1017 AR)
Lost in a lute battle the other day.... Twice. Once to Savio and then to Caspian. Two fine men who I can't say I am displeased about losing too. Glad Savio and I are on the same team, and Caspian...well I enjoy anything I do with him. Last time it was darts, this time a sparring match with a Lute. Oh well, Princess Celine, Prince Patrizio, Lord Erik were eyewitnessess to this all. I was very happy to see Lady Mikani, attempt to avenge me. All in all it was a fine time.
Written By Piccola
April 21, 2022, 1:23 p.m.(7/4/1017 AR)
People will become your enemies if you become eminent too quickly in life.
Rising slowly in the world, people will be your allies and your happiness will be assured. Whether you are fast or slow, as long as you have people's understanding there will be no danger.
Fortune that is urged upon you from others is the most effective.
Rising slowly in the world, people will be your allies and your happiness will be assured. Whether you are fast or slow, as long as you have people's understanding there will be no danger.
Fortune that is urged upon you from others is the most effective.
Written By Caspian
April 21, 2022, 12:46 p.m.(7/4/1017 AR)
there are poor choices, and then there are painfully poor choices. But sometimes you get the chance to make one and look back on it .. and decide that it was worth.
Written By Edris
April 20, 2022, 9:22 p.m.(7/3/1017 AR)
It took me until midmorning yesterday to realize why I had been so restless since the day before. And when the illumination hit me, it was like a hard and true strike to the chest, the kind that steals the breath and all sensation, until one's mind catches up and the body remembers to breathe again.
Already when I think of you, I have a hard time remembering the face of the woman you became, rather than the child I grew up with. Is that what time does? Or in trying to set aside the last time I saw what was left of you, I have lost the immediate years before? At least I have not lost your voice. The strength in it, when you stood up to those you felt were treating another unjustly. Your laugh, when we raced each other up boulders, or I fell on my ass. I remember your voice too, the last time. The worry in it. Asking me if it would not be better for you to accompany me back.
By the gods, I would give my life then to have given you a different answer.
But today is not the anniversary of that day. Frost and I rode out to the clearing along the wall, when I realized what day it was. We found a wildflower patch. As he ate (more than a few) I wove a crown. Like I used to, for you, during the years of my favorite memories of you.
I wonder, what you would think of what I have become. I bear no name that you would recognize; neither the one we were born to, nor the one that you died bearing. A knight, as you were so proud of, but not a shining one. There are many children that I love as I would have loved my nieces and nephews that will never be, but none that share our blood. Would you understand the decisions I've made? Could you accept them? Would it make you sad, how I have navigated the world since? These days I wake less from the old nightmares. Though there is much that feels barren and frozen, now and then I feel the presence of a snowdrop, a crocus. Every triumph, success, or pleasure doesn't drag along with it the strong feeling of thinking about all the better women and men who died and were far more worthy than the one who survived.
When Frost had eaten his fill and my crown completed, we returned to the city. Perhaps this is what healing beyond the scar is supposed to feel like. I gave the crown-of-flowers to the first child that I saw that reminded me of you. I saw her laugh as she plucked one flower carefully from it, to tuck it behind her little brother's ear. We are never the same after each loss. Perhaps what was diminished in me will never be restored. But there are other flames that can be protected so that they burn bright. Sometimes, this is enough to make it through the darkest day until the next. May it be by my sword or service that one day no more brothers and sisters shall be separated by the actions of those that took you from me. Perhaps then I will learn what it truly means to heal, for good or ill, when it is done and I can no longer use that threat as an excuse for continuing on.
I hope my response to when that is finished will be what would have truly made you proud.
Happy birthday, Elin Moore. I love you. May I help build a world so that the next life you inhabit will be better than the last.
Already when I think of you, I have a hard time remembering the face of the woman you became, rather than the child I grew up with. Is that what time does? Or in trying to set aside the last time I saw what was left of you, I have lost the immediate years before? At least I have not lost your voice. The strength in it, when you stood up to those you felt were treating another unjustly. Your laugh, when we raced each other up boulders, or I fell on my ass. I remember your voice too, the last time. The worry in it. Asking me if it would not be better for you to accompany me back.
By the gods, I would give my life then to have given you a different answer.
But today is not the anniversary of that day. Frost and I rode out to the clearing along the wall, when I realized what day it was. We found a wildflower patch. As he ate (more than a few) I wove a crown. Like I used to, for you, during the years of my favorite memories of you.
I wonder, what you would think of what I have become. I bear no name that you would recognize; neither the one we were born to, nor the one that you died bearing. A knight, as you were so proud of, but not a shining one. There are many children that I love as I would have loved my nieces and nephews that will never be, but none that share our blood. Would you understand the decisions I've made? Could you accept them? Would it make you sad, how I have navigated the world since? These days I wake less from the old nightmares. Though there is much that feels barren and frozen, now and then I feel the presence of a snowdrop, a crocus. Every triumph, success, or pleasure doesn't drag along with it the strong feeling of thinking about all the better women and men who died and were far more worthy than the one who survived.
When Frost had eaten his fill and my crown completed, we returned to the city. Perhaps this is what healing beyond the scar is supposed to feel like. I gave the crown-of-flowers to the first child that I saw that reminded me of you. I saw her laugh as she plucked one flower carefully from it, to tuck it behind her little brother's ear. We are never the same after each loss. Perhaps what was diminished in me will never be restored. But there are other flames that can be protected so that they burn bright. Sometimes, this is enough to make it through the darkest day until the next. May it be by my sword or service that one day no more brothers and sisters shall be separated by the actions of those that took you from me. Perhaps then I will learn what it truly means to heal, for good or ill, when it is done and I can no longer use that threat as an excuse for continuing on.
I hope my response to when that is finished will be what would have truly made you proud.
Happy birthday, Elin Moore. I love you. May I help build a world so that the next life you inhabit will be better than the last.
Written By Erik
April 20, 2022, 6:30 p.m.(7/3/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Celine
We fought together today. Good, it was a sparring match and we ..kind of won.. kind of lost it. But when I saw her go down the first time, time suddenly slowed down. I called out to her and when she did not react, I found an inner calm. Maybe it was fear that she got hurt, but it was the one time I was able connect a lunge with ample force.
The only time in the match.
It felt good.
The only time in the match.
It felt good.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.