Written By Sen'azala
Dec. 23, 2023, 1:01 a.m.(6/3/1021 AR)
Mashti,
I'd ask if you understand why I still found my way here, but the truth is it wouldn't change things, and you always knew.
I should be sleeping, but I'm writing letters you might never see instead, like an idiot. If it's still possible after the world changes, I'll bring them to you, and I'll tell you everything you feel like being told. Everything. Every story. It feels like a whole lifetime, there's a lot to tell. I can't stay, but I'll find you, all of you, if you're still there to find, and I'll tell you that he's gone.
I'll tell you that you helped save the world.
But if it's me bringing them, if it's me telling you, then I'll tell you that you helped save me. I never forgot. Not for a single, solitary moment. I never will. I just get lost, now and then.
I love you.
There you are. I wrote it down. They don't let us rip up journals, so I can't pretend I didn't. I'll tell you if I find you. I'm not sure you realize that's what I said by leaving. I never would have otherwise, I would have haunted the tribe's steps forever. No one else could have convinced me to go. I knew my mother for a night, but you were the mother she must have hoped you would be.
There, I wrote that down too. I won't take it back.
I'd ask if you understand why I still found my way here, but the truth is it wouldn't change things, and you always knew.
I should be sleeping, but I'm writing letters you might never see instead, like an idiot. If it's still possible after the world changes, I'll bring them to you, and I'll tell you everything you feel like being told. Everything. Every story. It feels like a whole lifetime, there's a lot to tell. I can't stay, but I'll find you, all of you, if you're still there to find, and I'll tell you that he's gone.
I'll tell you that you helped save the world.
But if it's me bringing them, if it's me telling you, then I'll tell you that you helped save me. I never forgot. Not for a single, solitary moment. I never will. I just get lost, now and then.
I love you.
There you are. I wrote it down. They don't let us rip up journals, so I can't pretend I didn't. I'll tell you if I find you. I'm not sure you realize that's what I said by leaving. I never would have otherwise, I would have haunted the tribe's steps forever. No one else could have convinced me to go. I knew my mother for a night, but you were the mother she must have hoped you would be.
There, I wrote that down too. I won't take it back.
Written By Sen'azala
Dec. 23, 2023, 12:34 a.m.(6/3/1021 AR)
Shara,
This city is full of artists. They've got whole galleries, and the Hall of Heroes is full of statues. There's a fucking enormous cathedral full of colored glass, and murals are common. People will paint or sketch a picture of you in the market sometimes, and it's cheap, but probably because they've got to rush it, and none of the street painters are as good at it as you.
There's a place called the Shrine of the First Choice, and in the back, the inner sanctum, someone I know painted an entire wall with something that reminds me of you. If you saw it, you'd understand.
You were right, and so was I.
This city is full of artists. They've got whole galleries, and the Hall of Heroes is full of statues. There's a fucking enormous cathedral full of colored glass, and murals are common. People will paint or sketch a picture of you in the market sometimes, and it's cheap, but probably because they've got to rush it, and none of the street painters are as good at it as you.
There's a place called the Shrine of the First Choice, and in the back, the inner sanctum, someone I know painted an entire wall with something that reminds me of you. If you saw it, you'd understand.
You were right, and so was I.
Written By Sen'azala
Nov. 29, 2023, 11:22 p.m.(4/13/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Raven
No.
Written By Sen'azala
Nov. 28, 2023, 7:11 a.m.(4/10/1021 AR)
Two to remember, and one for hope. That's the price of raven feathers.
It would have to be, right? What kind of friend would I be, if I let it be anything else?
It would have to be, right? What kind of friend would I be, if I let it be anything else?
Written By Sen'azala
Nov. 9, 2023, 6:36 p.m.(3/1/1021 AR)
My adopted family had a wise saying that I'd like to relate to current events:
For fuck's sake, this is *not the fucking time* for this shit.
For fuck's sake, this is *not the fucking time* for this shit.
Written By Sen'azala
Nov. 8, 2023, 6:12 p.m.(2/27/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Titus
True for many of the people the Compact has fought, but I guarantee you, there is no scrap of humanity to the Horned God, not a whisper, not a passing thought, nothing. If he ever had any virtues - and, frankly, I've never seen any evidence of it - then he willfully abandoned them a long, long, long time ago. He doesn't care about honor, or any law of decency dreamed up by anyone, at any point, ever, gods included. It's a fatal mistake to ever think otherwise. His armies have no choice to do anything other than what he wants them to do, whether they want to or not, so, unless that hold is shaken, it's a fatal mistake to think otherwise of them either. He wants you to die, all of you, he's very happy to ensure it happens, and for those who do not die, he wants you chained so tightly that you'll never escape. He wants this because he believes it's where all of us belong, in the ground or at his feet.
He *is* a fucking monster, and if he ever seems otherwise, it's a lie.
Presumably, at some point there was at least some scrap of something that led to him being a part of the Order, but since he ended up betraying them all, none of them are left to ask what that might have been.
He *is* a fucking monster, and if he ever seems otherwise, it's a lie.
Presumably, at some point there was at least some scrap of something that led to him being a part of the Order, but since he ended up betraying them all, none of them are left to ask what that might have been.
Written By Sen'azala
Oct. 14, 2023, 10:46 p.m.(1/5/1021 AR)
I didn't know it was possible for a place to feel this empty.
...No, that's it. I guess there's nothing left to write.
...No, that's it. I guess there's nothing left to write.
Written By Sen'azala
Oct. 13, 2023, 11:15 p.m.(1/3/1021 AR)
She'll be here with the snow. If this has to happen, then a winter storm seems appropriate. Comfortable, even. Familiar. I'm going to guess Helena Thornweave didn't grow up with endless, hungry Winter haunting her steps. It doesn't care who you are. It never cares who you are. It won't care whose blood ends up staining the white. There's a cruel fairness to winter. Let it haunt her just as much.
Written By Sen'azala
Oct. 12, 2023, 10:47 a.m.(12/28/1020 AR)
I've known where I wanted to be for just about as far back as I've got memories. I've imagined it. Dreamed about it. Plotted for it. Laid awake all night thinking about it. The only thing that's ever really been uncertain for me about my destination is the path I'll actually have to cut to get there. What I'll do, how I'll do it, how long it will take.
I don't...
You'd think I'd have given more thought about who I'd be when I got there. I didn't see why it would matter. Who cares what type of a person it is who kills a monster, so long as the monster is dead? People who are comfortable enough they feel like they can afford to be picky, that's who. That's never been me. And I've not done nearly enough good to qualify as a good person. You can't balance good things you've done against bad things you've done like some sort of moral ledger. I was going to kill the monster. That's what mattered, and that's all that mattered.
The thing is, good people, they just sort of...tug at you. Usually only a little, sometimes quite a lot. Often they're not even trying to do it, but eventually it starts corrupting you. It chips away at all the stupid shit you think you know. Rots at your reasons and excuses for not caring. They care. And if you don't watch out, you start caring too. At first, it's just because they do. You don't want to see them disappointed. You don't want to see them hurt. There's a room on a dark night where they're all grieving, and you just don't quite understand. The loss isn't yours. You don't know why you're there, except that they let you come with them. Let you stay. Let you see them vulnerable in a way you'd never, ever have let them see you.
I think about that night often. Nearly every day, of late. I think...maybe that's where it happened. Maybe that's where it set in. A night when the people I didn't realize were my friends were crying. The whole world changed that night. Maybe I did too.
And I think...there's someone I never met, who was a good person. A very good person. Maybe one of the best people, in the end. I wouldn't be quite who I am, where I am, in the way I am, if she hadn't left such a large, empty space in the people who loved her.
Did this entry somehow turn into a bizarre eulogy for a stranger? I don't know. You leave ripples, even when you're gone. Even when the people who loved you are gone. Maybe even when the people who loved them are gone. That's what I hope, anyway.
I don't...
You'd think I'd have given more thought about who I'd be when I got there. I didn't see why it would matter. Who cares what type of a person it is who kills a monster, so long as the monster is dead? People who are comfortable enough they feel like they can afford to be picky, that's who. That's never been me. And I've not done nearly enough good to qualify as a good person. You can't balance good things you've done against bad things you've done like some sort of moral ledger. I was going to kill the monster. That's what mattered, and that's all that mattered.
The thing is, good people, they just sort of...tug at you. Usually only a little, sometimes quite a lot. Often they're not even trying to do it, but eventually it starts corrupting you. It chips away at all the stupid shit you think you know. Rots at your reasons and excuses for not caring. They care. And if you don't watch out, you start caring too. At first, it's just because they do. You don't want to see them disappointed. You don't want to see them hurt. There's a room on a dark night where they're all grieving, and you just don't quite understand. The loss isn't yours. You don't know why you're there, except that they let you come with them. Let you stay. Let you see them vulnerable in a way you'd never, ever have let them see you.
I think about that night often. Nearly every day, of late. I think...maybe that's where it happened. Maybe that's where it set in. A night when the people I didn't realize were my friends were crying. The whole world changed that night. Maybe I did too.
And I think...there's someone I never met, who was a good person. A very good person. Maybe one of the best people, in the end. I wouldn't be quite who I am, where I am, in the way I am, if she hadn't left such a large, empty space in the people who loved her.
Did this entry somehow turn into a bizarre eulogy for a stranger? I don't know. You leave ripples, even when you're gone. Even when the people who loved you are gone. Maybe even when the people who loved them are gone. That's what I hope, anyway.
Written By Sen'azala
Sept. 11, 2023, 2:45 a.m.(7/8/1020 AR)
In the forest, in the wilds, there's nothing worse than silence. Silence is when every living thing around you holds its breath, hoping that whatever deadly threat has drawn their collective attention will pass by without noticing them. Silence is when you don't know what's there, or which direction to run. Worst of all, silence is always temporary, like the space between a lightning flash and thunder.
Written By Sen'azala
July 9, 2023, 6:05 p.m.(2/21/1020 AR)
The bowstring released. The arrow's in flight. May the winds be kind, or the coming storm favorably spiteful.
Written By Sen'azala
Jan. 22, 2023, 6:17 p.m.(4/11/1019 AR)
Sometimes, life - or, at least, my life - has a tendency to punch you in the jaw, and then offer you a drink. I don't know how to describe the past two weeks. Maybe an ongoing barfight.
Written By Sen'azala
Jan. 16, 2023, 9:09 a.m.(3/26/1019 AR)
At the end of the day heroes are stories, not people. People can and often do heroic things - some people seem capable of doing them infinitely - but people also do people things, and those get lost. They eat. They sleep (some of them *not enough*). They've got favorite colors and times of day. Sometimes they make stupid jokes, or trip over their own feet. Some are quiet and shy, some never grant anyone the mercy of shutting up. Those aren't the kinds of things that get remembered when they die and start being called heroes. No one carves 'didn't much care for plums' on a statue.
Maybe that's okay to most people, but sometimes I feel like mourning the stupid little things that I'll never know. A name, a face, and a single moment in time just aren't enough, even if that single moment in time might save the world.
Maybe that's okay to most people, but sometimes I feel like mourning the stupid little things that I'll never know. A name, a face, and a single moment in time just aren't enough, even if that single moment in time might save the world.
Written By Sen'azala
Jan. 2, 2023, 7:18 a.m.(2/26/1019 AR)
It's common for people to have "falling" dreams, common enough for ridiculous superstitions to spring up around them, like the one where if you hit the ground in the dream you die for real (even if this were true, and it's not, how would anyone *know*?). I've been having jumping dreams. There's always a cliff, or a rooftop, or a tree. Sometimes I'm running. Sometimes I'm just bracing on the edge. Sometimes I can see where I want to land, and sometimes I can't see anything at all. Every time, though, every time I make the leap, because every time I know I *have* to get to wherever I'm trying to go. It's an eternity in the air, waiting and second guessing well after it's too late for second guesses.
The dream never lasts long enough for me to be able to tell how it works out.
...So I guess I admit that I've yet to have one where I actually hit the ground.
The dream never lasts long enough for me to be able to tell how it works out.
...So I guess I admit that I've yet to have one where I actually hit the ground.
Written By Sen'azala
Dec. 21, 2022, 6:52 a.m.(2/2/1019 AR)
Relationship Note on Raemond
Time does not stand still. Neither do oceans. Or rivers. Eventually, even a mountain will move, and no amount of protest about how the mountain has always been there will keep it from burying you. I suppose one could argue that change is the oldest tradition of all.
Written By Sen'azala
Nov. 9, 2022, 6:47 a.m.(11/2/1018 AR)
I've had a number of people asking for my thoughts on the moon's changes. Frankly, I'd like to think of the moon as little as possible, but as it insists on being obnoxiously present, I'll be annoyingly cryptic in my answer.
Time. The moon is time. And, contrary to appearances, there's not much left of it.
Time. The moon is time. And, contrary to appearances, there's not much left of it.
Written By Sen'azala
Nov. 1, 2022, 4:50 a.m.(9/2/1018 AR)
At the risk of offending the Lyceum, the Mirrormasks, and random people with an unhealthy love for parties where no one knows who anyone else is, I *hate* the Eclipse of Mirrors.
Written By Sen'azala
Oct. 21, 2022, 7:37 a.m.(8/8/1018 AR)
Someone once told me they had a dream of a special place in the forest where all animals could gather peacefully because the predators were rendered incapable of hunting. It was one of the creepiest things I'd heard at the time, but I was apparently the only person who thought so. In hindsight, it's *still* incredibly creepy, unless I add one more layer onto that fantasy and try to picture it as animals with human thoughts doing the equivalent of peacebinding their weapons at an official meeting, as with ceremonies at the Cathedral or the Assembly of Peers, in which case it would be by choice. Then it's not creepy so much as vaguely unnerving.
Sounds like something that should be in a children's book. I won't be writing it.
Sounds like something that should be in a children's book. I won't be writing it.
Written By Sen'azala
Oct. 3, 2022, 7 a.m.(6/28/1018 AR)
I've made no secret of my opinions on thralldom, and I don't intend to pretend otherwise. I'll argue about it until I'm ash on the wind. In fact, I'll find a way to argue about it afterward too, just you watch. We're all well past arguments now, though. There's little for me to say that I haven't filled up my Whites with repeatedly. I also recognize that it's not exactly good politics - or so I presume - for a Prima of Nefer'khat to remind anyone who happens to read this of just how much I despise the practice while a bloody civil war is raging over it.
Oh well.
I've been there. I've seen it. I know how the bullshitting goes, every time, all the excuses made, every time, the way the debts are tallied and tracked, the looks on the faces of second generation thralls, third generation thralls, *fourth* generation thralls that have never, not for a single moment, been out from under their owners' boots. Slavery is slavery regardless of what the people holding the chains choose to call it, and there's no need for me to say so, because the rebels themselves said as much when they allied with the slavetakers of Skal'daja. The slavetakers of Skal'daja said as much when they allied with the rebels. There is not a single soul on Arvum that will truthfully argue that the Skal'dajans are not slavers, and yet the rebels chose them over their own people. One might wonder why that was so comfortable. One might wonder why rebelling thralls were the ones fighting Skal'dajan slavers while Helianthus' men cut them down. One might wonder, but the answer's obvious. Like recognizes like. Their actions are their testimony, then as now. They'll drown the Mourning Isles in blood before they let it go.
Who am I to write any of this? I don't know. Me. It's my journal to rant in.
Oh well.
I've been there. I've seen it. I know how the bullshitting goes, every time, all the excuses made, every time, the way the debts are tallied and tracked, the looks on the faces of second generation thralls, third generation thralls, *fourth* generation thralls that have never, not for a single moment, been out from under their owners' boots. Slavery is slavery regardless of what the people holding the chains choose to call it, and there's no need for me to say so, because the rebels themselves said as much when they allied with the slavetakers of Skal'daja. The slavetakers of Skal'daja said as much when they allied with the rebels. There is not a single soul on Arvum that will truthfully argue that the Skal'dajans are not slavers, and yet the rebels chose them over their own people. One might wonder why that was so comfortable. One might wonder why rebelling thralls were the ones fighting Skal'dajan slavers while Helianthus' men cut them down. One might wonder, but the answer's obvious. Like recognizes like. Their actions are their testimony, then as now. They'll drown the Mourning Isles in blood before they let it go.
Who am I to write any of this? I don't know. Me. It's my journal to rant in.
Written By Sen'azala
Sept. 25, 2022, 3:05 a.m.(6/12/1018 AR)
It has been some weeks, but I'm annoyed enough that I ought to go ahead and put it in writing. House Venandi is not, and has never been, a prodigal house. House Venandi is the royal house of the Primasen of Dhiib'andzi, older than the Compact itself by several thousand years. That Arvum is drenched in the blood of my people is no indication of debt to the Arvani; quite the opposite, and the idea that the Compact is in any way *owed* the services of a foreign royal line that has already given everything to protect the peoples of Arvum despite said peoples' scorn and betrayal is, to put it very, very mildly, absurd and insulting.
I understand that it's largely the result of people simply not knowing any of this, or, if they do, not fully grasping the implications, but I also expect that, once told, they stop insisting on being completely and utterly wrong. Or, at the very least, if they do insist on it, they can say it to my face so that *I* can explain - slowly, in small words - that they are completely and utterly wrong, before politely recommending that they sit the hell down and shut the fuck up.
We were allies, not subjects. My hope is that we can be allies again, my belief is that we're all dead or worse if we don't learn how to do that, but House Venandi will not kneel to the Compact any more than it will kneel to the Horned God. House Venandi will not kneel to anyone.
I understand that it's largely the result of people simply not knowing any of this, or, if they do, not fully grasping the implications, but I also expect that, once told, they stop insisting on being completely and utterly wrong. Or, at the very least, if they do insist on it, they can say it to my face so that *I* can explain - slowly, in small words - that they are completely and utterly wrong, before politely recommending that they sit the hell down and shut the fuck up.
We were allies, not subjects. My hope is that we can be allies again, my belief is that we're all dead or worse if we don't learn how to do that, but House Venandi will not kneel to the Compact any more than it will kneel to the Horned God. House Venandi will not kneel to anyone.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.