Written By Aislin
Jan. 22, 2017, 4:45 p.m.(9/24/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Lark
I had no idea that the princess was a connoisseur of treehouses. The things you learn...
Written By Aislin
Jan. 22, 2017, 5:18 a.m.(9/23/1005 AR)
Relationships are an odd thing for me; I see some people who just leap into bed with another, and... well, that's not me. I need a lot more build-up, I think. Time to make a connection. I want a partner in life before I want a partner in bed. Someone who I can rely on out in the field, someone at my back, willing to share those adventures. To drink with me to toast successes, or to mourn a loss. To stay by my side.
Anything else? That comes later.
I've found only a few people I could see myself someday reaching that point with, and they're all quite happy already with what they have. And I'm happy for all of them in turn; there's little enough joy to be found lately, and seeing those I care about seize it while they can... that's something precious in and of itself. I wouldn't trade that, especially now.
I guess that makes me somewhat picky.
But still, for all that I'm not one prone to physical affection or contact, I admit there are moments when I do dearly wish I could just let my guard down and lean against someone else for a while. Close my eyes and know someone would watch over me, just long enough that I could /rest/ for a spell. Feel someone there with me while I drift off to sleep.
Still, relationships are certainly the lowest thing on my priority list these days. The problems out there are a hell of a lot larger than personal relationships, and I damned well know I should focus there. Especially since I've known for years my life expectancy isn't great; no small number of Ashfords die young, and I push limits even by Ashford standards. Leaving someone behind to grieve seems just cruel; I've seen far too many go through that.
Maybe, in the end, this is actually for the best? Relationships, I suppose, can wait until we've dealt with an impending apocalypse or three.
_____
Ugh, looking back on this entry, I realize I've written something frivolous and self-indulgent, a product of sleep-deprivation more than any real constructive self-examination. But now that I've written it, I suppose the damned thing should go into the stacks anyway; I'm too much a Vellichorian to just tear it out of my journal. I'll just have to make up for it by writing some ungodly long serious entry soon about... hells, I don't know. The nature of reflections, or what evidence I was able to piece together about the Teind's history and purpose. Something more properly /me/. Either way, I can bury this mess beneath actual useful information.
Anything else? That comes later.
I've found only a few people I could see myself someday reaching that point with, and they're all quite happy already with what they have. And I'm happy for all of them in turn; there's little enough joy to be found lately, and seeing those I care about seize it while they can... that's something precious in and of itself. I wouldn't trade that, especially now.
I guess that makes me somewhat picky.
But still, for all that I'm not one prone to physical affection or contact, I admit there are moments when I do dearly wish I could just let my guard down and lean against someone else for a while. Close my eyes and know someone would watch over me, just long enough that I could /rest/ for a spell. Feel someone there with me while I drift off to sleep.
Still, relationships are certainly the lowest thing on my priority list these days. The problems out there are a hell of a lot larger than personal relationships, and I damned well know I should focus there. Especially since I've known for years my life expectancy isn't great; no small number of Ashfords die young, and I push limits even by Ashford standards. Leaving someone behind to grieve seems just cruel; I've seen far too many go through that.
Maybe, in the end, this is actually for the best? Relationships, I suppose, can wait until we've dealt with an impending apocalypse or three.
_____
Ugh, looking back on this entry, I realize I've written something frivolous and self-indulgent, a product of sleep-deprivation more than any real constructive self-examination. But now that I've written it, I suppose the damned thing should go into the stacks anyway; I'm too much a Vellichorian to just tear it out of my journal. I'll just have to make up for it by writing some ungodly long serious entry soon about... hells, I don't know. The nature of reflections, or what evidence I was able to piece together about the Teind's history and purpose. Something more properly /me/. Either way, I can bury this mess beneath actual useful information.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 19, 2017, 10:59 p.m.(9/16/1005 AR)
There's something to be said for someone you can take a walk with, just talk about things with, let your guard down with, and trust will /probably/ not bring you a new apocalyptic situation to consider.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 18, 2017, 5:16 p.m.(9/12/1005 AR)
I could speak my mind on the actions of the Dominus, but I am not Godsworn to think I have the right to dictate the actions of the Faith; I am just an explorer, though I like to think that means I know something of the world beyond our walls.
I could claim I might have made different choices than the Regency Council has, but I was not there. And I am not a politician, to truly believe I would know better how to run the realm. But I am a student of history, and so I like to believe know something about alliances.
And one thing I know is that we do not have to agree with our allies. We do not even need to /like/ our allies. But we do need to treat them as allies, or else we lose them.
I imagine there are no few around the Compact who disagree vehemently with how the Thrax handle things. But alliances mean putting those differences aside in the face of common foe or greater threat.
And we broke one, an alliance that had stood since the time of Queen Alarice. An alliance that held back the Silence. The Nox'alfar, who are killed by the mere presence of the Bringers of Silence, asked our swords, in exchange for their magic to hold the Silence itself at bay.
Well, the Teind is paid. The enemy is locked away once more. The world will no longer end. And only the cleaning up remains, for this fight.
I like to think those who volunteered for the sacrifice would consider their lives well-spent; thirteen lives to save us all is a smaller cost than most armies ever pay to defend us, and from what I've found, the Silence is a threat that frightens even the other threats lurking in the darkness.
But gods and spirits alone know what will happen in thirteen by thirteen years, when the Teind comes due again and the Silence once again strains at its bonds. Hopefully, the Keepers will be willing to pay it once again.
And I could point fingers, or try to share the blame... but there's blame enough to go around, and trying to determine whose it is has little merit now. And doubtless I deserve some of it, though everything I've done, I'd do again. I hate the Teind. I hate the fact that it was even remotely necessary.
None of it changes the fact that our alliance is broken, the treaty gone. So for now, we stand alone.
We'll not have the weapons or metal to help with the Bringers that remain. Nor will we have their soldiers -- or their magic -- to help face any of the other threats out there. Distasteful as the Nox'alfar often are, they would've been a great aid.
And there are other threats. The world beyond the walls of Arx is a dark one, and there are threats stirring out there we don't even begin to understand. Perhaps even threats stirring within the walls, as well. Many of them are abyssal, and we'll need all the tools we can find against them.
But it isn't the end. We'll face this darkness together: Crownlander, Northerner, Lycene, Thrax... perhaps the Oathlands will join the fight against the Bringers as well, and the Compact will stand together. Perhaps we'll make common cause with the Abandoned as well, and all of humanity will stand our ground.
We will not fall. Whether we have alliance with elves, or any other creature of myth, we will hold.
But we've lost so much, forgotten so much, been manipulated and weakened for so long. So I'll renew my efforts to struggle our way out of ignorance. To claw back any bits of forgotten knowledge, any tools we can reasonably use.
Otherwise, the fights still ahead will be far worse than this.
I could claim I might have made different choices than the Regency Council has, but I was not there. And I am not a politician, to truly believe I would know better how to run the realm. But I am a student of history, and so I like to believe know something about alliances.
And one thing I know is that we do not have to agree with our allies. We do not even need to /like/ our allies. But we do need to treat them as allies, or else we lose them.
I imagine there are no few around the Compact who disagree vehemently with how the Thrax handle things. But alliances mean putting those differences aside in the face of common foe or greater threat.
And we broke one, an alliance that had stood since the time of Queen Alarice. An alliance that held back the Silence. The Nox'alfar, who are killed by the mere presence of the Bringers of Silence, asked our swords, in exchange for their magic to hold the Silence itself at bay.
Well, the Teind is paid. The enemy is locked away once more. The world will no longer end. And only the cleaning up remains, for this fight.
I like to think those who volunteered for the sacrifice would consider their lives well-spent; thirteen lives to save us all is a smaller cost than most armies ever pay to defend us, and from what I've found, the Silence is a threat that frightens even the other threats lurking in the darkness.
But gods and spirits alone know what will happen in thirteen by thirteen years, when the Teind comes due again and the Silence once again strains at its bonds. Hopefully, the Keepers will be willing to pay it once again.
And I could point fingers, or try to share the blame... but there's blame enough to go around, and trying to determine whose it is has little merit now. And doubtless I deserve some of it, though everything I've done, I'd do again. I hate the Teind. I hate the fact that it was even remotely necessary.
None of it changes the fact that our alliance is broken, the treaty gone. So for now, we stand alone.
We'll not have the weapons or metal to help with the Bringers that remain. Nor will we have their soldiers -- or their magic -- to help face any of the other threats out there. Distasteful as the Nox'alfar often are, they would've been a great aid.
And there are other threats. The world beyond the walls of Arx is a dark one, and there are threats stirring out there we don't even begin to understand. Perhaps even threats stirring within the walls, as well. Many of them are abyssal, and we'll need all the tools we can find against them.
But it isn't the end. We'll face this darkness together: Crownlander, Northerner, Lycene, Thrax... perhaps the Oathlands will join the fight against the Bringers as well, and the Compact will stand together. Perhaps we'll make common cause with the Abandoned as well, and all of humanity will stand our ground.
We will not fall. Whether we have alliance with elves, or any other creature of myth, we will hold.
But we've lost so much, forgotten so much, been manipulated and weakened for so long. So I'll renew my efforts to struggle our way out of ignorance. To claw back any bits of forgotten knowledge, any tools we can reasonably use.
Otherwise, the fights still ahead will be far worse than this.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 16, 2017, 4:50 a.m.(9/5/1005 AR)
My father's health had not been good for some time; for all practical purposes, Harlan and I had been running things, as his Voices. So in many ways, this changes nothing for Ashford; the decisions will be made just as they have for the past year, by one of Barton's children.
And yet, in others, it changes everything.
The man who led us for so many years, who saw Ashford through so many campaigns, is gone. I choose to believe that, no longer able to live with the illness that was taking his mind, he chose to end his own life so as to bring his son to the title. To ensure strong leadership in a time when the Crownlands are under siege.
And I'll stand by my brother, whatever he needs. Even if, for the first few days, it might just be a shoulder to lean on.
The choice of memorial, if we have one... any of that, I think it's up to my brother to decide, as the new Duke.
For myself, for now... I have no other words.
And yet, in others, it changes everything.
The man who led us for so many years, who saw Ashford through so many campaigns, is gone. I choose to believe that, no longer able to live with the illness that was taking his mind, he chose to end his own life so as to bring his son to the title. To ensure strong leadership in a time when the Crownlands are under siege.
And I'll stand by my brother, whatever he needs. Even if, for the first few days, it might just be a shoulder to lean on.
The choice of memorial, if we have one... any of that, I think it's up to my brother to decide, as the new Duke.
For myself, for now... I have no other words.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 15, 2017, 1:24 p.m.(9/3/1005 AR)
It's so refreshing to get *good* news, for a change. I owe Lady Niamh a debt for that.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 10, 2017, 1:33 a.m.(8/14/1005 AR)
It's odd, really, to be both so happy for someone and yet sad at the same time.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 9, 2017, 4:14 a.m.(8/12/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Dawn
It's taken me some time to think how to write this. Because, truth be told, I don't think I want to wrap my head around it. I may believe this course, while abhorrent, is necessary, and I'll continue to say so... but the truth is, I still don't want to accept what's happened.
Lady Dawn has been a startling number of things in the time I've known her. A voice for a Great House, the regent of the Compact. She worked tirelessly -- as did I, as did others -- to try to gather information, to spread it. And when time ran short and information was still lacking, she did her best to make the right call.
When she acted in those roles, she always had my trust and respect.
But when I think of her? What I will always think of are moments like sitting in a kennel with puppies. Sitting in a tree together with a bottle of brandy. Watching her shamelessly spoil my falcon. Listening to her talk about how much she had wanted to be an adventurer, before life turned her to politics.
I remember how fiercely she forbade me from ever volunteering for the Teind -- after we found the truth of Addison's treachery, and I volunteered as a way to clear the family name. When she made her announcement, I was incandescent with fury at the hypocrisy. But the truth is, the anger dulls with time... and what's left is an ache.
So many little things throughout the day, where I go to send a message about something... and stop when I realize, I have no idea where it would go. Dozens of little moments when I'm reminded once again of what's happened.
Dozens of times a day when I miss my friend.
So I pray that -- what paths she finds herself now walking -- someday ours will cross again, in this lifetime or another.
I'm sure we can find another bottle, and a suitable tree.
Lady Dawn has been a startling number of things in the time I've known her. A voice for a Great House, the regent of the Compact. She worked tirelessly -- as did I, as did others -- to try to gather information, to spread it. And when time ran short and information was still lacking, she did her best to make the right call.
When she acted in those roles, she always had my trust and respect.
But when I think of her? What I will always think of are moments like sitting in a kennel with puppies. Sitting in a tree together with a bottle of brandy. Watching her shamelessly spoil my falcon. Listening to her talk about how much she had wanted to be an adventurer, before life turned her to politics.
I remember how fiercely she forbade me from ever volunteering for the Teind -- after we found the truth of Addison's treachery, and I volunteered as a way to clear the family name. When she made her announcement, I was incandescent with fury at the hypocrisy. But the truth is, the anger dulls with time... and what's left is an ache.
So many little things throughout the day, where I go to send a message about something... and stop when I realize, I have no idea where it would go. Dozens of little moments when I'm reminded once again of what's happened.
Dozens of times a day when I miss my friend.
So I pray that -- what paths she finds herself now walking -- someday ours will cross again, in this lifetime or another.
I'm sure we can find another bottle, and a suitable tree.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 8, 2017, 12:29 p.m.(8/10/1005 AR)
"Why pay the Teind?"
Gods and spirits, how many times am I going to be asked that question? Messengers, and conversations, and even chance encounters in the street.
Why?
At best, the ritual may stem the tide of these cold, emotionless creatures spilling across the Crownlands.
At worst? It restores a treaty—a treaty /we/ broke by attacking /them/—which grants us the alaricite weapons we'll so desperately need to face abyssal threats.
"Why the Teind? Why the treaty?"
Because Queen Alarice and the high lords of her time—who knew far more of how all this works than we do, of the nature of magic and of the threats facing us—thought the benefits outweighed the costs enough that they signed a treaty to ensure we would work together against what we now face. If I know /nothing/ else for certain in all of this, I know that.
The treaty we broke, and were offered one more chance to fix.
And so even where my knowledge is guesswork, or has gaps, and even though I loathe the idea of the Teind itself, I choose to trust the judgment of Queen Alarice and her peers in preparing a treaty to stand against this threat.
If the leaders of that time, with all their greater knowledge of magic, of the world, of all the things we've forgotten -- that were stolen from us, by the Great Fire or other means -- thought this was a necessary evil to face a greater one, who am I, with my fragments of history, to say they were wrong?
And besides, why do people question it /now/? Payment has been arranged, as dear a price as it is. At worst, if the Teind does nothing else, it will buy alaricite to fight the darkness.
And I hope everyone remembers the cost of that shining metal when they wield it.
Gods and spirits, how many times am I going to be asked that question? Messengers, and conversations, and even chance encounters in the street.
Why?
At best, the ritual may stem the tide of these cold, emotionless creatures spilling across the Crownlands.
At worst? It restores a treaty—a treaty /we/ broke by attacking /them/—which grants us the alaricite weapons we'll so desperately need to face abyssal threats.
"Why the Teind? Why the treaty?"
Because Queen Alarice and the high lords of her time—who knew far more of how all this works than we do, of the nature of magic and of the threats facing us—thought the benefits outweighed the costs enough that they signed a treaty to ensure we would work together against what we now face. If I know /nothing/ else for certain in all of this, I know that.
The treaty we broke, and were offered one more chance to fix.
And so even where my knowledge is guesswork, or has gaps, and even though I loathe the idea of the Teind itself, I choose to trust the judgment of Queen Alarice and her peers in preparing a treaty to stand against this threat.
If the leaders of that time, with all their greater knowledge of magic, of the world, of all the things we've forgotten -- that were stolen from us, by the Great Fire or other means -- thought this was a necessary evil to face a greater one, who am I, with my fragments of history, to say they were wrong?
And besides, why do people question it /now/? Payment has been arranged, as dear a price as it is. At worst, if the Teind does nothing else, it will buy alaricite to fight the darkness.
And I hope everyone remembers the cost of that shining metal when they wield it.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 6, 2017, 11:17 a.m.(8/4/1005 AR)
Seriously, does no one think the Nox'alfar were petitioned for the King's soul? Why have so many people asked this? We have petitioned. /I/ asked, back in winter.
The sad fact is that the elves cannot end the Exsilium Noctis early.
It is like stabbing someone with a knife. You cannot then remove the knife, say you did not mean it, and have the wound suddenly vanish. Even if you might wish to.
Only divine intervention can end it early, and thus far, that avenue has not borne fruit.
The sad fact is that the elves cannot end the Exsilium Noctis early.
It is like stabbing someone with a knife. You cannot then remove the knife, say you did not mean it, and have the wound suddenly vanish. Even if you might wish to.
Only divine intervention can end it early, and thus far, that avenue has not borne fruit.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 6, 2017, 2:47 a.m.(8/2/1005 AR)
So, then. Time is running out. And as best I can tell from the fragments of history and lore we still have, the consequences if we do nothing are unimaginable.
Perhaps the time for talk, for debate, really is past. Perhaps it really is the time for individual action.
If so, I'll make what difference I can where I may, and damn the risks; they're mine to take.
Perhaps the time for talk, for debate, really is past. Perhaps it really is the time for individual action.
If so, I'll make what difference I can where I may, and damn the risks; they're mine to take.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 6, 2017, 12:03 a.m.(8/2/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Dawn
I'm uncertain whether to be proud, or furious, or grieving, or betrayed. I think I'm all of them at once.
After giving me an order /forbidding/ me from volunteering for the Teind... to...
Dust and ash.
Half of me is tempted to just run after her. I don't have so many true friends that I'm willing to let one go. But instead, I'll respect her decision.
And I will make /everything/ else pay. If I have to march into the woods and begin slaying Bringers myself, before my forest home completely dies.
After giving me an order /forbidding/ me from volunteering for the Teind... to...
Dust and ash.
Half of me is tempted to just run after her. I don't have so many true friends that I'm willing to let one go. But instead, I'll respect her decision.
And I will make /everything/ else pay. If I have to march into the woods and begin slaying Bringers myself, before my forest home completely dies.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 2, 2017, 1:46 a.m.(7/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Killian
My cousin was sent off to foster at the Bislands when he was younger, to train for future duties. It's a shame, because it means we never did get to spend as much time together when younger.
Still, Killian has an adventuresome soul to match my own, and despite the size of Arvum we've bumped into each other out there before on our explorations. Strange, really, that it took being out in the world to get to know my cousin better.
The fact that he's now in Arx pleases me. It's nice to know I can find him somewhere nearby, rather than wondering if I'll run into him again in some far-flung village and have a chance to catch up.
Still, Killian has an adventuresome soul to match my own, and despite the size of Arvum we've bumped into each other out there before on our explorations. Strange, really, that it took being out in the world to get to know my cousin better.
The fact that he's now in Arx pleases me. It's nice to know I can find him somewhere nearby, rather than wondering if I'll run into him again in some far-flung village and have a chance to catch up.
Written By Aislin
Jan. 2, 2017, 1:09 a.m.(7/18/1005 AR)
I cannot remember the last time I cried, until today.
Sometimes, it's a good thing.
Sometimes, it's a good thing.
Written By Aislin
Dec. 31, 2016, 2:26 p.m.(7/14/1005 AR)
It's been too long; I meant to do more of these, but Society duties have kept me quite busy. Still, this seems like a topic that will be relevant to many people very soon, and thus I feel a need to cover it.
THE NOX'ALFAR: A Guide to Hopefully Not Becoming King Calithex's Headless Inkwell
Ancient records teach us that there were three types of elves in Arvum. This particular treatise is focused only on the Nox'alfar, also known as the House of the Moon.
Dealing with the Nox'alfar is an interesting experience, as any who've had a chance to talk to them will attest. They're rude, sarcastic, and generally act slightly bored with life overall. Living an immortal and largely unchanging life can, apparently, become rather dull quickly.
The greatest offense you can give to a Nox'alfar -- especially to their king, Calithex Thex -- is seemingly that of being boring. Predicable. Being *interesting* is the best thing you can do... and yet there are lines one should not cross. (Though unfortunately, so far as this writer can tell, those lines are not always in the same place.)
And so the great Twilight Court of the Nox'alfar, reached through the Night's Grove, is a place that seems the embodiment of insanity. Architecture with bizarre lines that makes no sense, spiders the size of Arvani buildings, impossible spaces, and a festival air that seems to be a desperate, insane pursuit of /any/ sort of new experience. Among the dancers and merry-makers, it seems not uncommon to encounter elves on fire, engaged in being eaten by spiders, or any number of other things the average Arvani would consider unpleasant. In no small number of cases, it appears those two groups intersect, and you may find someone on fire /while/ dancing. Audiences with Twilight Court nobility may well involve interruptions to account for stabbings and other brief mayhem. A courtier might have their head removed to allow their blood to be used as an inkwell.
Further, blood magic is not merely practiced by the Nox'alfar, but nearly a way of life; merely to open the door into the Court involves using blood magic, and they wield it both openly and unashamedly. Using the blood from injuries -- or the dead -- is done as casually as an Arvani might pick up the pen with which I write this journal.
In short, for otherwise seemingly-immortal beings, the Nox'alfar seem to consider death to be a mild inconvenience at best.
This is perhaps because they have a firm belief in the concept of reincarnation. Their goddess -- the Queen of Endings, the Mother of Beginnings -- is the goddess of both death and rebirth. If you know your soul will come back soon enough in a new body, a new life, then death might well seem like little more than a chance to take a brief nap in the Shining Lands. It's important to remember this, because this embrace of death makes them careless with life.
Theirs especially, but likely those mortals who interact with them as well.
In conclusion, diplomacy with regards to the Twilight Court is something of a risky enterprise. The best advice seems to be a bundle of contradictions: be cautious but not boring, be irreverent but not outright disrespectful... and be cavalier but do not let yourself be killed.
THE NOX'ALFAR: A Guide to Hopefully Not Becoming King Calithex's Headless Inkwell
Ancient records teach us that there were three types of elves in Arvum. This particular treatise is focused only on the Nox'alfar, also known as the House of the Moon.
Dealing with the Nox'alfar is an interesting experience, as any who've had a chance to talk to them will attest. They're rude, sarcastic, and generally act slightly bored with life overall. Living an immortal and largely unchanging life can, apparently, become rather dull quickly.
The greatest offense you can give to a Nox'alfar -- especially to their king, Calithex Thex -- is seemingly that of being boring. Predicable. Being *interesting* is the best thing you can do... and yet there are lines one should not cross. (Though unfortunately, so far as this writer can tell, those lines are not always in the same place.)
And so the great Twilight Court of the Nox'alfar, reached through the Night's Grove, is a place that seems the embodiment of insanity. Architecture with bizarre lines that makes no sense, spiders the size of Arvani buildings, impossible spaces, and a festival air that seems to be a desperate, insane pursuit of /any/ sort of new experience. Among the dancers and merry-makers, it seems not uncommon to encounter elves on fire, engaged in being eaten by spiders, or any number of other things the average Arvani would consider unpleasant. In no small number of cases, it appears those two groups intersect, and you may find someone on fire /while/ dancing. Audiences with Twilight Court nobility may well involve interruptions to account for stabbings and other brief mayhem. A courtier might have their head removed to allow their blood to be used as an inkwell.
Further, blood magic is not merely practiced by the Nox'alfar, but nearly a way of life; merely to open the door into the Court involves using blood magic, and they wield it both openly and unashamedly. Using the blood from injuries -- or the dead -- is done as casually as an Arvani might pick up the pen with which I write this journal.
In short, for otherwise seemingly-immortal beings, the Nox'alfar seem to consider death to be a mild inconvenience at best.
This is perhaps because they have a firm belief in the concept of reincarnation. Their goddess -- the Queen of Endings, the Mother of Beginnings -- is the goddess of both death and rebirth. If you know your soul will come back soon enough in a new body, a new life, then death might well seem like little more than a chance to take a brief nap in the Shining Lands. It's important to remember this, because this embrace of death makes them careless with life.
Theirs especially, but likely those mortals who interact with them as well.
In conclusion, diplomacy with regards to the Twilight Court is something of a risky enterprise. The best advice seems to be a bundle of contradictions: be cautious but not boring, be irreverent but not outright disrespectful... and be cavalier but do not let yourself be killed.
Written By Aislin
Dec. 31, 2016, 2:22 p.m.(7/14/1005 AR)
Spirituality is a strange thing. I really envy the people I know who have some degree of surety in theirs; I've been struggling with mine for some time. Who I am and where I belong. I've found myself speaking with priests, shamans, and others about it.
And I still have no true answers.
Vellichor, in many ways, is the right fit; knowledge is the center of my life, and the Archives are arguably the space in this city closest to "sacred" for me. I try to do him proper honor by seeking things out for the Archives. But I also often worry that I'm too independent-minded... worried that the god would be somehow *disappointed* in my desire to dash off yet again to gods-know-where to do gods-know-what. So I don't quite feel... /right/, trying to pray to him for guidance, when I fear I wouldn't want what I'd be told.
Petrichor, then, perhaps? After all, I always feel better outside of the city walls, in the natural world. I do my best to pay proper honor to him as well, if not as highly as Vellichor. But no... I know those who feel Petrichor's call, and I don't feel the same. And I've never felt the same connection as to the Archives.
The spirits of the north, my mother's homeland? There's something to be said for finding your spirituality in everything around you. In treating the world itself as what you draw guidance from. I've spoken to several shamans lately, and while the exercises they've taught bring some comfort... I don't think the spirits are my path, either.
It's a strange thing in some ways: to explore so much of the world, but not to be entirely certain of yourself.
And I still have no true answers.
Vellichor, in many ways, is the right fit; knowledge is the center of my life, and the Archives are arguably the space in this city closest to "sacred" for me. I try to do him proper honor by seeking things out for the Archives. But I also often worry that I'm too independent-minded... worried that the god would be somehow *disappointed* in my desire to dash off yet again to gods-know-where to do gods-know-what. So I don't quite feel... /right/, trying to pray to him for guidance, when I fear I wouldn't want what I'd be told.
Petrichor, then, perhaps? After all, I always feel better outside of the city walls, in the natural world. I do my best to pay proper honor to him as well, if not as highly as Vellichor. But no... I know those who feel Petrichor's call, and I don't feel the same. And I've never felt the same connection as to the Archives.
The spirits of the north, my mother's homeland? There's something to be said for finding your spirituality in everything around you. In treating the world itself as what you draw guidance from. I've spoken to several shamans lately, and while the exercises they've taught bring some comfort... I don't think the spirits are my path, either.
It's a strange thing in some ways: to explore so much of the world, but not to be entirely certain of yourself.
Written By Aislin
Dec. 30, 2016, 5:15 a.m.(7/10/1005 AR)
I have newfound sympathy for the hells I must occasionally put my loved ones through. The gut-wrenching worry on behalf of someone else.
To my family and close friends: I'm so sorry.
(Though, of course, I'm not going to change my behavior.)
To my family and close friends: I'm so sorry.
(Though, of course, I'm not going to change my behavior.)
Written By Aislin
Dec. 24, 2016, 4:27 p.m.(6/21/1005 AR)
Well.
This has been an interesting little while.
There were the reports from the Society expedition on the Beast of Sanctum, which were more than a little disturbing. I have enough on my plate, however, so I'll be delegating all of that to the Seekers to deal with; I did suggest Mason should speak to Vincere, as both a fellow Seeker /and/ the Minister of Defense.
But those reports were almost the least of it; it seems like many people have had... unusual experiences in the past few weeks, and felt a need to share or seek out guidance recently. My messengers have been quite the strange collection lately; I don't think I've seen so many exclamation marks on anything since I was scribbling down my own childhood stories about my future adventures.
I definitely need to see about calling together some of the Seekers to see if I can't task some of them to speak to people and look into various things more deeply. Because some of the things coming to light lately seem almost as wild as those adventures I used to make up for myself, if rather more dire.
(What? Oh, fine. This is why I usually write my own white journals, you know, rather than dictating them here.)
Since you ask, childhood story future-me did live a fairly interesting life. She had a griffin, for one thing; his name was Cloudstriker. They were inseparable and flew all around the world, even to Cardia (which I had decided was full of dragons). Story-Aislin also met a handsome Cardian prince who might or might not have also been a dragon -- I don't think I ever made up my mind on that point -- who became her plucky sidekick and companion.
With benefit of hindsight I have to admit those imaginary childhood adventures involved a lot less foraging for food and running from shavs than my real ones have. Though the direwolf quotient has actually proven surprisingly accurate.
This has been an interesting little while.
There were the reports from the Society expedition on the Beast of Sanctum, which were more than a little disturbing. I have enough on my plate, however, so I'll be delegating all of that to the Seekers to deal with; I did suggest Mason should speak to Vincere, as both a fellow Seeker /and/ the Minister of Defense.
But those reports were almost the least of it; it seems like many people have had... unusual experiences in the past few weeks, and felt a need to share or seek out guidance recently. My messengers have been quite the strange collection lately; I don't think I've seen so many exclamation marks on anything since I was scribbling down my own childhood stories about my future adventures.
I definitely need to see about calling together some of the Seekers to see if I can't task some of them to speak to people and look into various things more deeply. Because some of the things coming to light lately seem almost as wild as those adventures I used to make up for myself, if rather more dire.
(What? Oh, fine. This is why I usually write my own white journals, you know, rather than dictating them here.)
Since you ask, childhood story future-me did live a fairly interesting life. She had a griffin, for one thing; his name was Cloudstriker. They were inseparable and flew all around the world, even to Cardia (which I had decided was full of dragons). Story-Aislin also met a handsome Cardian prince who might or might not have also been a dragon -- I don't think I ever made up my mind on that point -- who became her plucky sidekick and companion.
With benefit of hindsight I have to admit those imaginary childhood adventures involved a lot less foraging for food and running from shavs than my real ones have. Though the direwolf quotient has actually proven surprisingly accurate.
Written By Aislin
Dec. 18, 2016, 8:29 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)
The Archscholar's entry grieving all the things we've lost... it reminds me it's probably time I start taking more of my notes and placing them into white journals again.
And, perhaps, to schedule the next full Society gathering, to trade what new bits of knowledge we can, to piece together more of the past to take back to the Archives.
And, perhaps, to schedule the next full Society gathering, to trade what new bits of knowledge we can, to piece together more of the past to take back to the Archives.
Written By Aislin
Dec. 17, 2016, 12:12 a.m.(5/26/1005 AR)
Apparently, the key to treating successfully with elves is to be liberal in the application of both sarcasm and alcohol.
(And I feel like life in the Compact has taken some very strange turns lately, when I genuinely believe that's useful advice worth recording for others.)
(And I feel like life in the Compact has taken some very strange turns lately, when I genuinely believe that's useful advice worth recording for others.)
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.