Written By Medeia
July 13, 2021, 1:40 a.m.(10/28/1015 AR)
A new box of coral from Eswynd Rock arrived today. It's so gorgeous in its natural state. I held up a piece in good light so the sparkle would be especially bright and moved it around for Miklos and Savja to see. They were thrilled with it. Seeing their smiles makes me feel like I could take on everything and win. I can't take on everything and win. But by the gods, they make me wish I could. I had Klavdiya and Loryk, and several extra guards help me take them to the sanctuary today so I could work on some of my lesson plans and sending off notes to patients. I had the chance to speak with Cesare for a short time while there, also. And then there was the Lyceum meeting. And so many other missives to respond to.
I know I'm supposed to be resting. I don't even remember what happened. One moment I was in the woods, the next I was waking up in a bed in the Saving Grace. I'm grateful for the fuss that Countess Thea, Ladies Kiera and Clarisse, Blessed Giada, Brothers Aelgar and Oswyn, and Messeres Evaristo and Zakhar have made over me. And I am given to understand I may owe Count Drake and Lord Marzio gifts of gratitude for ensuring my return home. I may not remember most of that fuss and aid, either, but the nurses did a good job of telling me who was looking out for me.
At least I won't have to worry about my husband learning I almost made him a widower while he was away; he never reads these. And no one is going to tell him because no one ever wants to be the one to face him bearing bad news.
I know I'm supposed to be resting. I don't even remember what happened. One moment I was in the woods, the next I was waking up in a bed in the Saving Grace. I'm grateful for the fuss that Countess Thea, Ladies Kiera and Clarisse, Blessed Giada, Brothers Aelgar and Oswyn, and Messeres Evaristo and Zakhar have made over me. And I am given to understand I may owe Count Drake and Lord Marzio gifts of gratitude for ensuring my return home. I may not remember most of that fuss and aid, either, but the nurses did a good job of telling me who was looking out for me.
At least I won't have to worry about my husband learning I almost made him a widower while he was away; he never reads these. And no one is going to tell him because no one ever wants to be the one to face him bearing bad news.
Written By Denica
July 13, 2021, 12:13 a.m.(10/28/1015 AR)
Don't you think it's a little late to be trying to win my affection?
Written By Tesha
July 12, 2021, 11:52 p.m.(10/27/1015 AR)
Autumn has settled in nicely and from there Winter will return. I should probably go on my trip before the snows start to fall and I have to wait until Spring to travel to find what I'm looking for. Because I won't be able to find that hair in the snow.
Written By Gwenna
July 12, 2021, 5:10 p.m.(10/27/1015 AR)
I managed to accomplish everything I had hoped to today, which is a good feeling. Sometimes it is nice to quietly gauge things, and be glad for the contributions of so many that allow us to do some surprise things. Tending the ledgers is not the most exciting of tasks, but when there is a brief period of prosperity after so much careful planning, it feels simply wonderful. I caught up on transcripts of a meeting or two I missed, too. Lastly, I managed to have an outfit made from starlight silk and I absolutely love the fabric. Some personal saving of my own resulted in a lovely new circlet to match the set.
These may seem small things, perhaps even silly but, on occasion, it is nice to allow oneself to relish the simpler things. Amazing family, good wine, and a bit of frippery often remind me that there is so much good in this life. Much to fight for.
These may seem small things, perhaps even silly but, on occasion, it is nice to allow oneself to relish the simpler things. Amazing family, good wine, and a bit of frippery often remind me that there is so much good in this life. Much to fight for.
Written By Vitalis
July 12, 2021, 2:31 p.m.(10/27/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Cambria
I've a morning routine lends itself to reflection. We joke that I *am* the crack of dawn as reports from the very fine whip made for me by Apollo Malespero ricochet around the garden. One of the things I reflected on recently was an offering to the White Record by Duchess Mazetti, that deep down everybody wants to be 'the one' for somebody. A strongly stated position, and thought provoking. Replies were varied and valid, and I offer this.
Speaking for myself, I would modify the sentiment to say that there is something ineffably sweet about being 'the first' rather than 'the one.' The first person someone wants to tell good news. The first person they turn to when hurt. The first face they want to see. One person may have many 'firsts' they reach for as connections are not singular, nor our relationships, nor our loves. It is a delight and a solace for me to have that 'one' embodied in many. It is a great gift be or have been that for another.
I hope that any who long for this find it in their lives.
Speaking for myself, I would modify the sentiment to say that there is something ineffably sweet about being 'the first' rather than 'the one.' The first person someone wants to tell good news. The first person they turn to when hurt. The first face they want to see. One person may have many 'firsts' they reach for as connections are not singular, nor our relationships, nor our loves. It is a delight and a solace for me to have that 'one' embodied in many. It is a great gift be or have been that for another.
I hope that any who long for this find it in their lives.
Written By Ripley
July 12, 2021, 1:15 p.m.(10/27/1015 AR)
I dreamed of you. it was a good dream. I love you. Simple as that. If you see this, Toad loves you too but not as much as me but he loves you too.
Written By Piccola
July 12, 2021, 11:15 a.m.(10/26/1015 AR)
On the sword:
The essence of swordsmanship is of the spirit, not the blade.
To the sword are the highest and lowest vulnerable. It matters not how much armor one wears or how far away one pretends to be from a situation: a blade once drawn is meant to either deliver death or stave of one's own. Too often people became experts in the first without considering the second. It is like the priest who reads sacred texts yet never ventures from the security of their enclave. It is easy to kill someone with a slash of a sword; it is hard to be impossible for others to cut down.
Swordsmanship is about life. It is bias to think that its mastery is just for killing people; it is not to kill people, it is to kill evil. It is a stratagem to give life to many people by killing the evil of one person. Those who have mastered the sword see first with their mind, then with their eyes. The body follows. Consequently, throwing down one's sword is also an art of war, for if you have attained mastery of swordlessness, you will never lack for a sword. The opponent's sword is your sword.
The essence of swordsmanship is of the spirit, not the blade.
To the sword are the highest and lowest vulnerable. It matters not how much armor one wears or how far away one pretends to be from a situation: a blade once drawn is meant to either deliver death or stave of one's own. Too often people became experts in the first without considering the second. It is like the priest who reads sacred texts yet never ventures from the security of their enclave. It is easy to kill someone with a slash of a sword; it is hard to be impossible for others to cut down.
Swordsmanship is about life. It is bias to think that its mastery is just for killing people; it is not to kill people, it is to kill evil. It is a stratagem to give life to many people by killing the evil of one person. Those who have mastered the sword see first with their mind, then with their eyes. The body follows. Consequently, throwing down one's sword is also an art of war, for if you have attained mastery of swordlessness, you will never lack for a sword. The opponent's sword is your sword.
Written By Tarik
July 11, 2021, 10:48 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
I am thinking about having some more snow theme parties again. I had planned to do them every year with Rowenova, but Arxian life can get busy. I think everyone enjoyed having fun at the Hart the last time we threw our little games.
Written By Tarik
July 11, 2021, 10:43 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
Finally summer is over with. It is not quite winter, but at least I am not having to wipe a bucket of sweat from by brow every moment. I am looking forward to finishing some errands and tasks before I get back to more important things.
Written By Faye
July 11, 2021, 10:14 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
I've found myself with a patron again, after a considerable length of time without. Lord Martino Malvici, who is a longtime friend, seems like he will be a good partner in a few upcoming projects. Many thanks to him, and I hope his family will provide opportunities for discovery as well. I have often said that my Lyceum connections are fewer than I would like. It seems like a good opportunity to improve that.
Written By Wylla
July 11, 2021, 8:35 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
I dreamt of her again. She was singing a sad song and smiling. How many of us do that? Sing songs with sad stories, smiling at the pleasure of singing, without thought to the one who first wrote the words? So old, some of these lullabies and limericks, with tales of woe and despair. Why do we sing them?
"Sad songs help the aches when you grieve," my mother told me once. "There are poems set to music of loved ones dying in each others arms, and still they lift the ache when I hear them, more when I sing them. I weep and I sing and I remember your Mama Juna and miss her, oh so much. But after, the ache is less, the memories of her closer, and I can smile again."
I paint today in shades of gold and blue, scholar; melancholy moment with a warm future before us.
Yes. Links in a long chain, pulling us forward.
"Sad songs help the aches when you grieve," my mother told me once. "There are poems set to music of loved ones dying in each others arms, and still they lift the ache when I hear them, more when I sing them. I weep and I sing and I remember your Mama Juna and miss her, oh so much. But after, the ache is less, the memories of her closer, and I can smile again."
I paint today in shades of gold and blue, scholar; melancholy moment with a warm future before us.
Yes. Links in a long chain, pulling us forward.
Written By Genevra
July 11, 2021, 8:30 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
She whispers to me, my thoughts they never cease, and now I do not know which voice I hear when I think: mine? hers?
Does it matter anymore?
Does it matter anymore?
Written By Bahiya
July 11, 2021, 8:29 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
I have written my family several times upon arriving here. My presence in Arvum is no secret. I do not know why their silence hurts me; I was not the kind of daughter that fit in. I was the cousin mocked for my strange ideas, the one my mother frowned at, shame in her eyes for those fleeting moments that she seemed to see me for what I truly was.
I was fortunate, however; I kept their focus and attention. They never looked at the man I sought to spin out of the broken vessel that was my new manservant. My only slave, forced upon me as a prank, a prank I reclaimed as a gift to spite my cousin, after a long day of ... sadness.
It saved us both but the act troubles me still. Thoughtless, my family, but it was not all their fault, born to a culture that looks at some as less than human, less than worthy. I will not recount those tales here; I would not see them preserved by me, those horrors live in my mind and the minds of so many, I will not add to it. There are better scholars to record such events in a clinical manner, and the monstrosities will be remembered through the ages by those that survived and those born of the survivors; they will not see the lesson forgotten, I can promise you that.
It is a tragedy, truly, that we cannot commit such things to time, for time to remember while we go on, and the horrors never repeated.
But I know better.
Still, I expected a letter of shame from my mother, words of stern rebuke from my father, mocking words from my many, many cousins. But there is nothing. No word.
Perhaps they know my part in the damage of their trade. Yes, that would earn me something true, something solid: disrupting their coin.
I woke hours ago, scholar, and I reached for Kenjay, weeping, and asked him, 'what world is this?'
None of us know. How could we?
I was fortunate, however; I kept their focus and attention. They never looked at the man I sought to spin out of the broken vessel that was my new manservant. My only slave, forced upon me as a prank, a prank I reclaimed as a gift to spite my cousin, after a long day of ... sadness.
It saved us both but the act troubles me still. Thoughtless, my family, but it was not all their fault, born to a culture that looks at some as less than human, less than worthy. I will not recount those tales here; I would not see them preserved by me, those horrors live in my mind and the minds of so many, I will not add to it. There are better scholars to record such events in a clinical manner, and the monstrosities will be remembered through the ages by those that survived and those born of the survivors; they will not see the lesson forgotten, I can promise you that.
It is a tragedy, truly, that we cannot commit such things to time, for time to remember while we go on, and the horrors never repeated.
But I know better.
Still, I expected a letter of shame from my mother, words of stern rebuke from my father, mocking words from my many, many cousins. But there is nothing. No word.
Perhaps they know my part in the damage of their trade. Yes, that would earn me something true, something solid: disrupting their coin.
I woke hours ago, scholar, and I reached for Kenjay, weeping, and asked him, 'what world is this?'
None of us know. How could we?
Written By Ariella
July 11, 2021, 8:19 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
No disrespect meant to Julius, but I've been 'stuck' at the Black Fox for a bit. Decided to expand my horizons, wandered the city when I got a chance. Her highness, Princess Valencia's very own Golden Hart came to the rescue. Quite the place, that one. Invokes quite an array of feelings. From oddly 'homey' and welcoming, to rather luxurious. Great mead, too. 10/10, would definitely visit again.
Written By Isabeau
July 11, 2021, 8:18 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Audgrim
I've had the pleasure of adding Messere Audgrim to my trio of proteges lately. I have taken pains to find people with particularly different interests and skillsets and who I enjoy the company of, and I am pleased to say he is one of them. That is not because he made me a beautiful coat, but it didn't hurt.
Written By Petra
July 11, 2021, 7:37 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
Once again, I find myself returning to the capital city of the Compact. Things are pretty much as I remember them. I have spent the last few weekd reacquainting myself to the city and my family that lived here. I am hoping to become of service to both the Spirit Walkers and the Physician's guild. There is much work to be done in that regards.
Written By Savio
July 11, 2021, 6:10 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
This is my second autumn in what is still to me a strange, foreign, northern country; Arx is turning the corner into what will be my second winter here. I remember the first time I saw snow, and I was filled with wonder, like a child. It seemed like magic.
Now I better understand that magic, and I feel much older. The awe is gone. It's just cold now.
Now I better understand that magic, and I feel much older. The awe is gone. It's just cold now.
Written By Hadrian
July 11, 2021, 4:08 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
Forgiveness can be the opening gambit of a revenge plot.
Written By Cufre
July 11, 2021, 3:15 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
Crowns.
For weeks and weeks now, my mind keeps drifting back to them. It. Them. You know, I've made and repaired jewelry for years now, and I've never once worked on or made even one. The one, yes, but these others?
I know this isn't making sense. It doesn't make sense to me. I'm coming out, I hope, of the worst headache of my life, so show me some grace there.
For weeks and weeks now, my mind keeps drifting back to them. It. Them. You know, I've made and repaired jewelry for years now, and I've never once worked on or made even one. The one, yes, but these others?
I know this isn't making sense. It doesn't make sense to me. I'm coming out, I hope, of the worst headache of my life, so show me some grace there.
Written By Veronica
July 11, 2021, 2:59 p.m.(10/25/1015 AR)
Went with Marquessa Mia Riven to deliver stone to the Hammerstrike in return for the stolen armor. The Browntooth have apparently restarted their war with the Truebold, and the original casus belli is just tragic. Apparently the Browntooth were originally the Greenfields, farmers, and the Truebold acted as defenders for the area, being less good at farming--even marrying into one another. Then the current matriarch of the Truebold had her Greenfield husband executed and it's been war ever since. What a mess, really.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.