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Written By Iona

Jan. 17, 2017, 10:04 a.m.(9/8/1005 AR)

Being a mother is never over. Nor does it get any easier.

Sure, your children age, and they leave the house. There are no more broken windows to worry about. No more yelling during the early mornings, or well-intentioned breakfasts that turn the kitchen into a battlefield and send the servants into chaos because there is lunch and dinner preparations to be done. But instead, they offer you a different set of challenges.

My life in the past few weeks reads like one of those family-focused novellas where the most implausible combination of things tumbles forth with every turn of a page. Truly, I ought to be thankful none of my daughters have found themselves pregnant outside of wedlock and the scandal that involves, but it is hard to think of it in such a way. The celebration of another life is, even at its worst, so much more pleasant than realizing how close you've come to losing a daughter. Dawn, my dear... she is far too willing to sacrifice herself for others. To think I would ever think of such a trait as a flaw. Alas. I am a mother, and she is my daughter.

But enough about matters that have been concluded. She is a Regent no more, and better yet, she is still very much alive. What truly motivated me to find my journal today... is Sammie.

Yesterday, she gathered her courage to tell me something that has bothered her for many years. To my own disgrace as a parent, I found myself pointing out all her mistakes and voicing my anger and disappointment in her. My shock, and without doubt also my fear, were on full display. It is as if I had forgotten she is just another woman, filled with flaws and the capacity to make mistakes. Nothing like the stellar reputation she has built up as the so-called Conscience of the Peers.

The more I think of it, the worse the light I see myself in. After all, are the failings of a child not the result of inadequate parenting? The fact Sammie nearly lost her life is on me for not adequately reinforcing how loved she is, and how much she matters to far too many people to name.

As a parent, I am supposed to be there for my children. Yet I was not there when they needed me, and when it came to Samantha revealing a truth I did not know, I yell at her without regard to her feelings.

Yet again I look at my own reflection, and yet again I find myself endeavouring to be a better mother.


Addendum: My dear Dawn has been excommunicated from the Faith!! The ink is not even dry yet! Dear Gods, why?

Written By Anze

Jan. 17, 2017, 9:31 a.m.(9/8/1005 AR)

The dominus made a hard choice.

spirits go with him, I think he needs them.

Written By Lydia

Jan. 17, 2017, 8:55 a.m.(9/8/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Belladonna

I have finally met this love of my brothers, and I must report that it is not as I feared.

She seems a truly delightful woman of good humor and generosity. I look forward to the many, many hours that we are to spend together!

Written By Dawn

Jan. 17, 2017, 7:27 a.m.(9/8/1005 AR)

How quickly scruples change, when alaricite is on offer, or there's a chance to play games with elves once despised and feared.

It is in poor manners to say "I told you so" but I'll do it anyway. I told you. I warned you. You ignored me. And you wonder why I felt I had to do everything myself?

Written By Angelo

Jan. 17, 2017, 6:52 a.m.(9/8/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Natalia

I have begun courting Her Royal Highness Natalia Grayson. I am looking forward to see what our alliance will mean.

Written By Talen

Jan. 17, 2017, 6:16 a.m.(9/8/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Esera

If I see one person not bend the knee, I'll break the knee so it's perpetually bent.

Written By Magden

Jan. 17, 2017, 4:22 a.m.(9/8/1005 AR)

When rats are forced to live in close proximity, sometimes their tails become entangled. The oils of their pelts, fur, dirt, the litter of their nests (twine, for example), and the flexible nature of the appendages in question contribute to a hopeless network of knots. They don't even have the leverage to turn and chew off their own tail. The only thing the increasingly desperate creatures can attack is their neighbor.

This violent and inextricable mass is called a Rat King.

Eventually, only one is left alive, and with the weight of all the corpses behind him, he is immobile.

He dies of starvation.

The End.

Written By Agnarr

Jan. 17, 2017, 2:55 a.m.(9/7/1005 AR)

Slightly tempting, now, to convert. Or not. Who knows.

Written By Hadrian

Jan. 17, 2017, 2:48 a.m.(9/7/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Inigo

Cousin

Written By Magden

Jan. 17, 2017, 2:46 a.m.(9/7/1005 AR)

I met a short man by the river who wanted my clothes. That would have ended badly.

Lavender isn't his color.

Written By Ira

Jan. 17, 2017, 2:10 a.m.(9/7/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Bethany

A Beautiful Mind

Written By Magden

Jan. 17, 2017, 12:56 a.m.(9/7/1005 AR)

I met someone who believes he can build a bridge between the Odd and the Normal.

There goes the neighborhood.

Written By Magden

Jan. 17, 2017, 12:40 a.m.(9/7/1005 AR)

Cat blood tastes precisely how one might expect.

Written By Magden

Jan. 17, 2017, 12:40 a.m.(9/7/1005 AR)

We don't choose what we are, or to whom we belong.

Written By Jackson

Jan. 16, 2017, 10:46 p.m.(9/7/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Aleksei

Lucky bastard.

Written By Ainsley

Jan. 16, 2017, 7:14 p.m.(9/6/1005 AR)

Did anyone lose a golden apple? Seriously, whose is this?

Written By Magden

Jan. 16, 2017, 6 p.m.(9/6/1005 AR)

When Larissa passes through a garden, even the stamen stand at attention.

Written By Luca

Jan. 16, 2017, 5:34 p.m.(9/6/1005 AR)

Can I go back to being bored with the world and lacking any real challenge now? This alternative path is treacherous and full of sharp rocks to break ones fall. And that's just the emotional challenges.

Written By Deva

Jan. 16, 2017, 5:13 p.m.(9/6/1005 AR)

If you have to keep redrawing the line, how do you know when enough is enough?

Written By Magden

Jan. 16, 2017, 4:37 p.m.(9/6/1005 AR)

Being a flower would be horrible. Bugs would crawl all over you, bees would fly up your nose, and someone would probably pick you. Then you'd die.

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