Written By Cara
May 26, 2017, 12:51 p.m.(7/13/1006 AR)
Steadfast has somehow managed to drool all over half of my notes on the prospective new trade routes west. I can't really hold it against him, though, as it was my fault for falling asleep and dropping them on the floor.
The poor pup looked so dismayed, too, with them stuck to his fur like that. Oh well. Back to the drawing board.
The poor pup looked so dismayed, too, with them stuck to his fur like that. Oh well. Back to the drawing board.
Written By Cara
May 23, 2017, 3:52 p.m.(7/7/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Laric
My husband had a hat party with our dog, a half a bottle of wine, and what appears to be the contents of a hitherto unknown canine tailor's shop.
I'm just imagining the face he's going to make when he realizes I wrote about this in a white journal and I can't stop giggling.
I'm just imagining the face he's going to make when he realizes I wrote about this in a white journal and I can't stop giggling.
Written By Cara
May 9, 2017, 3:25 p.m.(6/7/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Driskell
The best thing about our scholarly tradition of journals is that decades from now, students of history will know precisely what a titanic ass certain individuals are.
I expect it will grant a great deal of comfort to our descendants to know that even in bygone ages, humanity never fails to disappoint.
I expect it will grant a great deal of comfort to our descendants to know that even in bygone ages, humanity never fails to disappoint.
Written By Cara
April 29, 2017, 5:03 p.m.(5/13/1006 AR)
My assistant is reminding me that I said I would write a journal about this, because I promised my mother in my last letter that I would -- I am expecting a child in the late summer, everything is going well, and I feel fine.
I have a new appreciation for what my own mother went through, which I am sure is the point of her reminder to write it down, and so:
Yes, Mother, you were right.
I have a new appreciation for what my own mother went through, which I am sure is the point of her reminder to write it down, and so:
Yes, Mother, you were right.
Written By Cara
April 29, 2017, 4:22 p.m.(5/13/1006 AR)
One of the things that I study most keenly is diplomacy, and the art of finding common ground; and yet it is likely one of the most challenging skills to master, as far as I'm concerned, because the gods know there are times when my temper is most thoroughly tried.
It is ever important to remember to respond with grace and calm demeanor, for certainly to do otherwise is to invite scorn and malice. On the other hand, grace and decorum in the face of provocation can be spun as inaction or lack of will -- and will certainly be painted that way by one's detractors.
I muse on this subject often: to be politic, or to be honest. My brother never shied away from brutal honesty, something which I confess I often envied in him, even as I put pen to paper writing apologies and soothing hurt feelings.
Perhaps my tolerance for those who lie to me, who attempt to bully me, or to otherwise coerce and control me without the proper bounds of fealty between us has grown tattered of late. There's a limit to what any person might endure without comment. I pray I do not meet that limit somewhere public, and do something disgraceful like hurl a teapot at the head of a High Lord, or dump wine onto an idiot's lap.
It would not do for it to be revealed that I am only human, too, after all.
It is ever important to remember to respond with grace and calm demeanor, for certainly to do otherwise is to invite scorn and malice. On the other hand, grace and decorum in the face of provocation can be spun as inaction or lack of will -- and will certainly be painted that way by one's detractors.
I muse on this subject often: to be politic, or to be honest. My brother never shied away from brutal honesty, something which I confess I often envied in him, even as I put pen to paper writing apologies and soothing hurt feelings.
Perhaps my tolerance for those who lie to me, who attempt to bully me, or to otherwise coerce and control me without the proper bounds of fealty between us has grown tattered of late. There's a limit to what any person might endure without comment. I pray I do not meet that limit somewhere public, and do something disgraceful like hurl a teapot at the head of a High Lord, or dump wine onto an idiot's lap.
It would not do for it to be revealed that I am only human, too, after all.
Written By Cara
April 13, 2017, 1:24 p.m.(4/8/1006 AR)
A liege has responsibility for that which is done by his or her vassals.
And there is no moral justification for peeling the skin from a living man -- none whatsoever.
Until his liege has answered to what he has done, condemnation must be shared equally. If I ordered my general to such abhorrent desolation, I would be responsible for it as much as if I had wielded the blade myself; if he acted without my consent, I would be just as responsible should I fail to stand in judgment over it.
I value highly the contributions the Thrax have made to our unified war against the destruction of all reality, and look forward to the response of Thrax's leadership to the atrocities committed in their name.
And there is no moral justification for peeling the skin from a living man -- none whatsoever.
Until his liege has answered to what he has done, condemnation must be shared equally. If I ordered my general to such abhorrent desolation, I would be responsible for it as much as if I had wielded the blade myself; if he acted without my consent, I would be just as responsible should I fail to stand in judgment over it.
I value highly the contributions the Thrax have made to our unified war against the destruction of all reality, and look forward to the response of Thrax's leadership to the atrocities committed in their name.
Written By Cara
April 8, 2017, 10:15 p.m.(3/26/1006 AR)
My gods -- so literally.
I came to the Wake of Lights tonight to release three lanterns, one for each of my dear ones who has been lost in this war against the Silence. I expected to cry, to feel deeply, to be moved -- and I was, for the beauty of it was profound. So many voices, rising in unified mourning, in hope and love for those lost.
And then She came.
As the lanterns rose into the sky, a figure appeared, a woman, growing taller and taller with each passing moment. She seemed almost made of shadow, and she rose, higher and higher into the sky until she was adrift with the lanterns that we had released. She spun and their flames soared into her, caught and held within her form.
And then She spoke, to her priest, Master Aureth. She placed her hand upon his chest and sent all the power of the flames she had absorbed into him.
We worshipped Her, and She came.
I felt, watching her, as though my own soul was called toward her, trying to lift free of my mortal form and join her. It was the most peculiar sensation I've ever experienced.
It was transcendent.
I will never forget it.
I came to the Wake of Lights tonight to release three lanterns, one for each of my dear ones who has been lost in this war against the Silence. I expected to cry, to feel deeply, to be moved -- and I was, for the beauty of it was profound. So many voices, rising in unified mourning, in hope and love for those lost.
And then She came.
As the lanterns rose into the sky, a figure appeared, a woman, growing taller and taller with each passing moment. She seemed almost made of shadow, and she rose, higher and higher into the sky until she was adrift with the lanterns that we had released. She spun and their flames soared into her, caught and held within her form.
And then She spoke, to her priest, Master Aureth. She placed her hand upon his chest and sent all the power of the flames she had absorbed into him.
We worshipped Her, and She came.
I felt, watching her, as though my own soul was called toward her, trying to lift free of my mortal form and join her. It was the most peculiar sensation I've ever experienced.
It was transcendent.
I will never forget it.
Written By Cara
April 7, 2017, 2:29 p.m.(3/24/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Peregrine
Peregrine is a recent arrival to Arx, having married Prince Calarian out in the wilds of the world. I find her rather delightful, actually, and I hope that I can begin to study the language of the Gray Forest Abandoned -- it will be important for diplomatic purposes, certainly. It's no easy thing to leave one's home and become part of another family, and I hope that I can help her feel welcome in the Manor.
Written By Cara
March 30, 2017, 2:09 a.m.(3/7/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Dafne
Sometimes, when you aren't quite looking, someone dear to you will grow up in remarkable and surprising ways. Duchess Dafne Zaffria is just younger enough than I that we were never quite in the same age group, not until very recently; also, she is so petite that it is literally likely that I'll overlook her purely due to my own ridiculous resemblance to a giraffe.
I am, though, very proud to call her 'cousin', and even more glad to call her friend.
I am, though, very proud to call her 'cousin', and even more glad to call her friend.
Written By Cara
March 27, 2017, 1:04 p.m.(3/2/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Valkieri
I can't--
Written By Cara
March 19, 2017, 3:30 p.m.(2/14/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Valkieri
My brother is one of the dearest, most annoying, most wonderful people that I know. I watched him prepare to go forth with the rest of the host into battle and my heart felt like ice.
I've seen what's in those woods, and I would not wish it upon my worst enemy.
Though I suppose my worst enemy is what is already coming here, so the point is rather moot.
At any rate, Valkieri has promised me that he will not do something as gauche as perish, which I trust should be sufficient. We've all had enough of grief for a span. Never mind Gemecitta needing one of its Dukes; /I/ need my brother. He had best come home intact or I shall be extremely cross.
I've seen what's in those woods, and I would not wish it upon my worst enemy.
Though I suppose my worst enemy is what is already coming here, so the point is rather moot.
At any rate, Valkieri has promised me that he will not do something as gauche as perish, which I trust should be sufficient. We've all had enough of grief for a span. Never mind Gemecitta needing one of its Dukes; /I/ need my brother. He had best come home intact or I shall be extremely cross.
Written By Cara
March 19, 2017, 3:19 p.m.(2/14/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Tikva
Lady Tikva is a delightful lady, kind and cheerful, with good advice to offer and what seems to be a generous spirit. I'm very glad to have her in Arx and look forward to spending more time with her.
And the ginger pear tea she recommended is a wondrous lifesaver, too.
And the ginger pear tea she recommended is a wondrous lifesaver, too.
Written By Cara
March 19, 2017, 3:18 p.m.(2/14/1006 AR)
I could write something about the toll preparing for a siege takes, or the endless piles of books and scrolls I work through regularly in pursuit of new knowledge, but instead, I've decided to write about what I do to keep in good spirits despite all of the above:
I read dreadfully overwrought novels, and I love them.
Give me swooning! Give me heaving bosoms, yearning to be free! Tell me of dastardly villains brought low by their own fiendish failure, and brilliant heroes overcoming all adversity to rescue their loves!
And if you put a bit about a dog in, too, that's just icing on the cake.
I read dreadfully overwrought novels, and I love them.
Give me swooning! Give me heaving bosoms, yearning to be free! Tell me of dastardly villains brought low by their own fiendish failure, and brilliant heroes overcoming all adversity to rescue their loves!
And if you put a bit about a dog in, too, that's just icing on the cake.
Written By Cara
March 12, 2017, 3:58 p.m.(1/28/1006 AR)
They've come home.
Vincere and Pietro will be properly granted their rest, brought home to us. In better circumstances they should go to their true home - Granato - but I selfishly am grateful that they will not be so far away.
I walk that way often, through the Plaza Unita, and stop to visit their statues. It's not the same. It will never be the same. But it is a small comfort, nevertheless.
Vincere and Pietro will be properly granted their rest, brought home to us. In better circumstances they should go to their true home - Granato - but I selfishly am grateful that they will not be so far away.
I walk that way often, through the Plaza Unita, and stop to visit their statues. It's not the same. It will never be the same. But it is a small comfort, nevertheless.
Written By Cara
March 5, 2017, 9:35 p.m.(1/14/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Laric
My husband is a very admirable man, I am finding. Though our match was made for the usual concerns of nobility -- alliance, the trading of asset and honor, that sort of thing -- I am discovering just how much I /like/ him. It's strange and delightful and, I must be honest, a great comfort to me. I have lost so much, but life is a continual series of surprises and changes to circumstance. I am blessed to have him in my life.
Written By Cara
Feb. 27, 2017, 10:30 p.m.(1/3/1006 AR)
If the Valardin ever decide to pursue sailing as a major interest, I know just where to find plenty of wind.
Written By Cara
Feb. 25, 2017, 5:02 p.m.(12/26/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Laric
It is unusually gratifying to have a quiet conversation with a thoughtful and intelligent gentleman. Prince Laric seems to be very insightful, and I value his thoughts on matters serious and grave -- and his sense of humor on the same is equally appreciated. Once again, my good opinion of House Grayson is reinforced.
Written By Cara
Feb. 18, 2017, 1:19 a.m.(12/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Pietro
My dearest Pietro. I loved you as much as I loved your brother, though in a different way. You were the light that first brought a smile to my face after I fell into darkness.
For the rest of my life, I will turn, thinking how much I wish to tell you something, or to hear your laughter, or to get you to stop flopping onto the furniture --
But you won't be there.
I don't know what to do about that.
For the rest of my life, I will turn, thinking how much I wish to tell you something, or to hear your laughter, or to get you to stop flopping onto the furniture --
But you won't be there.
I don't know what to do about that.
Written By Cara
Feb. 15, 2017, 9:14 p.m.(12/6/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Vincere
This is not a journal of what has been. It is a journal of what will not be; if you are a scholar, turn away, for there is nothing here but dreams.
My love, this is for you. You are beyond reading it, I know, but I write it nevertheless.
It should have been our life.
I see the library you built for me, with the volumes ordered just so, and the way we never could quite agree on just how to sort them. By topic or by author? By age? Never the medicinals with the herbals, those belong with botany. Books stacked on the desk, waiting to be returned home, half interrupted and places marked where we were distracted with one another and left unfinished.
In the garden, Pietro's ridiculous gnomes have multiplied, and he and I hide them to distract and annoy you, because the frown you make when you are exasperated with us is adorable.
The fire dies low and we are too comfortable on your study's couch to rise and go to bed properly. I rest my head on your shoulder and whisper when I want you to turn the page of whatever it is we read together.
The children, running and tumbling through the halls, chased by their uncle -- until you poke your head from your study to give them a look and quiet them. At least until they are out of view.
Lazy mornings, broken by little whispers wondering, "Are they up yet? No, you wake them."
Silver hair and lines at the corners of your eyes, hands that ache in the cold, still strong enough to hold mine.
It should have been our life, my dearest.
Perhaps -- perhaps, we will meet again, and I pray for all the gods' grace that next time, we will have our time.
My love, this is for you. You are beyond reading it, I know, but I write it nevertheless.
It should have been our life.
I see the library you built for me, with the volumes ordered just so, and the way we never could quite agree on just how to sort them. By topic or by author? By age? Never the medicinals with the herbals, those belong with botany. Books stacked on the desk, waiting to be returned home, half interrupted and places marked where we were distracted with one another and left unfinished.
In the garden, Pietro's ridiculous gnomes have multiplied, and he and I hide them to distract and annoy you, because the frown you make when you are exasperated with us is adorable.
The fire dies low and we are too comfortable on your study's couch to rise and go to bed properly. I rest my head on your shoulder and whisper when I want you to turn the page of whatever it is we read together.
The children, running and tumbling through the halls, chased by their uncle -- until you poke your head from your study to give them a look and quiet them. At least until they are out of view.
Lazy mornings, broken by little whispers wondering, "Are they up yet? No, you wake them."
Silver hair and lines at the corners of your eyes, hands that ache in the cold, still strong enough to hold mine.
It should have been our life, my dearest.
Perhaps -- perhaps, we will meet again, and I pray for all the gods' grace that next time, we will have our time.
Written By Cara
Feb. 9, 2017, 3:23 a.m.(11/20/1005 AR)
I am at last free to write in my journal again -- though I feel, perhaps, that the brothers and sisters of the Archive would not have turned me away, I didn't quite feel right in taking part in the sacred task of Vellichor whilst cut off from the Faith.
I suppose I'm just a sentimentalist.
Though it may not have been strictly necessary to do so in such a public way, it was my thinking that to mend the breach between us and the Faith both required and deserved something of a larger display. I wanted it to be seen and to be understood, and so it was, and by the grace of the Dominus we are made reconciled. In such dangerous days as this, it is more important than ever that the Faith and the High Lords -- and the very Crown -- work together and rely on one another.
We cannot get through this alone. The enemies we face are simply too powerful for any one group or individual, no matter how heroic, to prevail.
Now, that being said, it seems that there is a wedding in my near future. I've been blessed with dear friends and family to help me overcome my reticence -- the heavens know my last wedding brings nothing but tainted memories to mind -- and I am pleased that there might be a small touch of something happy to celebrate in the sadness, though there is so much of it. So many dear ones are gone, missing or lost to us, and we are so diminished for their absence. I can only believe, though, that we must seize our happiness, no matter how brief, for recent events prove nothing if they do not prove how fleeting and precious such moments are.
May the gods watch over us, and send us their grace, for surely it is gravely needed now.
I suppose I'm just a sentimentalist.
Though it may not have been strictly necessary to do so in such a public way, it was my thinking that to mend the breach between us and the Faith both required and deserved something of a larger display. I wanted it to be seen and to be understood, and so it was, and by the grace of the Dominus we are made reconciled. In such dangerous days as this, it is more important than ever that the Faith and the High Lords -- and the very Crown -- work together and rely on one another.
We cannot get through this alone. The enemies we face are simply too powerful for any one group or individual, no matter how heroic, to prevail.
Now, that being said, it seems that there is a wedding in my near future. I've been blessed with dear friends and family to help me overcome my reticence -- the heavens know my last wedding brings nothing but tainted memories to mind -- and I am pleased that there might be a small touch of something happy to celebrate in the sadness, though there is so much of it. So many dear ones are gone, missing or lost to us, and we are so diminished for their absence. I can only believe, though, that we must seize our happiness, no matter how brief, for recent events prove nothing if they do not prove how fleeting and precious such moments are.
May the gods watch over us, and send us their grace, for surely it is gravely needed now.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.