Written By Joscelin
March 12, 2019, 1:17 a.m.(9/21/1010 AR)
Have you ever met a person that's a conversationalist beyond compare in person, but when they write it's like pulling turnips out of the frozen ground?
No?
No?
Written By Joscelin
March 11, 2019, 7:32 p.m.(9/20/1010 AR)
I've been told seventen times today that 'octopus' is actually pronounced 'apple-bus'. Four year old boys can be very serious about their pronunciations. This one is no exception.
Written By Joscelin
March 11, 2019, 7:12 p.m.(9/20/1010 AR)
Standing in the Assembly, on my feet in support of Prince Victus, the past flashed through my mind. My history with the Prince, our amends, meeting Oliver, hearing his life of slavery as a thrall, his freedom won, our love, our wedding, his death, our child ... So much passing through my head and heart in that moment, overwhelmed.
What would you make of this? Would you weep with relief? Would you cheer? Roar? Would you be angry that it took so long, or that it'll be seven years and not one? We would disagree on things, we would butt heads about what's better and what's right, I would caution patience, you would insist immediacy. Or would you? Would have our daughter temper your need for instant gratification? Would it ignite mine?
Whatever it is, in the future that comes, I hope when you come 'round the wheel again, it'll be to a world empty of thralldom, and you'll never know that past save as a distant sorrow in the memory of history.
What would you make of this? Would you weep with relief? Would you cheer? Roar? Would you be angry that it took so long, or that it'll be seven years and not one? We would disagree on things, we would butt heads about what's better and what's right, I would caution patience, you would insist immediacy. Or would you? Would have our daughter temper your need for instant gratification? Would it ignite mine?
Whatever it is, in the future that comes, I hope when you come 'round the wheel again, it'll be to a world empty of thralldom, and you'll never know that past save as a distant sorrow in the memory of history.
Written By Joscelin
March 10, 2019, 5:33 p.m.(9/18/1010 AR)
What is it to feel beholden to a collection of strangers, perhaps even a whole nation, for the the small favor of one singular woman? To look with gratitude at a small, smiling face and feel a rush of relief, of ... -something- ..., something bigger than simply being 'grateful', something not quite as intimate as 'affection'.
I am in debt to strangers for a gift of profound value, of love and joy and bitter-sweet relief. While I am told I owe nothing, the small hand that curls around mine at all hours of the day says I owe someone -something-. There is no way that something so perfect can belong to me without so much as a dust-up fuss.
Sweet child. Unexpected, beautiful little soul.
I am blessed, Jayus. I am blessed.
I am in debt to strangers for a gift of profound value, of love and joy and bitter-sweet relief. While I am told I owe nothing, the small hand that curls around mine at all hours of the day says I owe someone -something-. There is no way that something so perfect can belong to me without so much as a dust-up fuss.
Sweet child. Unexpected, beautiful little soul.
I am blessed, Jayus. I am blessed.
Written By Joscelin
March 8, 2019, 2:02 p.m.(9/14/1010 AR)
Got in an argument with Bess, a server at the Traders. She insists tall men are better lovers than short. I told her short men have better leverage. I demonstrated with cutlery and she looked intrigued.
Ah, Oliver. You'd have laughed to see the look on her face, eyeing the soldier at the bar, a scant inch taller than me. Like a cat considering all the different ways to stuff a chicken.
Ah, Oliver. You'd have laughed to see the look on her face, eyeing the soldier at the bar, a scant inch taller than me. Like a cat considering all the different ways to stuff a chicken.
Written By Joscelin
March 7, 2019, 8:49 p.m.(9/12/1010 AR)
The things I do to make sure my wares get to where they need to, namely the ungodly cost of postage when a boat, a set of oars, and a determined messenger are involved.
Note to self: the unaffiliated messengers of Arx are not to be trifled with. You raise a challenge and by the gods, they will meet it, come Abyss or high water, plague of rabbits, or a fleet of naked party-goers.
Note to self: the unaffiliated messengers of Arx are not to be trifled with. You raise a challenge and by the gods, they will meet it, come Abyss or high water, plague of rabbits, or a fleet of naked party-goers.
Written By Joscelin
March 6, 2019, 12:18 a.m.(9/9/1010 AR)
An old teaching manual, from when I was learning under Wolbrand:
On the nature of platinum:
You will never find a more welcoming metal. Generous, malleable, it folds like clay and doesn't wear away like snooty silver or pliable gold. It shifts, movies, -squishes-, and must ever be worked on its own bench with its own set of tools.
It will absorb other metals into itself, many a master jeweler has forgotten in her moments this nature, this enfolding welcome, to find a bright gold spot on her perfectly polished platinum item. Damning, it is, impossible to unsee. Keep your tools separate! Mark them clearly! And if you can't afford with space or money your own bench, be meticulous! It will find that last speck of Stygian, that tart little bit of silver, and you'll have a spot, I tell you. A -spot-, that no polish or cleaning will ever undo.
Does it weaken the metal? No. No, only on appearance. In point of fact, the folding of platinum with gold and copper can create beautiful designs, much as damascus will do with steel, the enfolding properties of platinum lending it very well to this decorative technique. But if you want that pristine, perfect plain of white metal... meticulous, my fellows. -Meticulous-.
On the nature of platinum:
You will never find a more welcoming metal. Generous, malleable, it folds like clay and doesn't wear away like snooty silver or pliable gold. It shifts, movies, -squishes-, and must ever be worked on its own bench with its own set of tools.
It will absorb other metals into itself, many a master jeweler has forgotten in her moments this nature, this enfolding welcome, to find a bright gold spot on her perfectly polished platinum item. Damning, it is, impossible to unsee. Keep your tools separate! Mark them clearly! And if you can't afford with space or money your own bench, be meticulous! It will find that last speck of Stygian, that tart little bit of silver, and you'll have a spot, I tell you. A -spot-, that no polish or cleaning will ever undo.
Does it weaken the metal? No. No, only on appearance. In point of fact, the folding of platinum with gold and copper can create beautiful designs, much as damascus will do with steel, the enfolding properties of platinum lending it very well to this decorative technique. But if you want that pristine, perfect plain of white metal... meticulous, my fellows. -Meticulous-.
Written By Joscelin
March 6, 2019, 12:11 a.m.(9/9/1010 AR)
The many are great, overwhelmingly so, but I hope I don't forget to sift through the dregs for them that need the help. I don't want to forget anyone. I can't forget anyone. I fail, if I do.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 26, 2019, 12:52 a.m.(8/21/1010 AR)
Children underfoot everywhere. Not an expected turn of events, but a joyful one. I hope to write about it more soon, but just know for now that I'm happy with how busy life has been.
I keep my ear to the current events, offer what input I can but ultimately I will encourage what is best for the Guild and that's not as clear as crystal, given what my folk tell me. This way, that way, this trade, -that- trade, we promise, you promise. It's all about compromise, isn't it? Or you're stepping on toes and cut off and blackballed and there's mold in your meat and rats in your larder and -how did they get there-?
I'm thankful for the newly elected Commoners' Council. They can take the input they gain and offer it to the ears of them that need it. I only hope it's all considered; the foundations of the city are strong, but are they strong enough?
I say yes.
I keep my ear to the current events, offer what input I can but ultimately I will encourage what is best for the Guild and that's not as clear as crystal, given what my folk tell me. This way, that way, this trade, -that- trade, we promise, you promise. It's all about compromise, isn't it? Or you're stepping on toes and cut off and blackballed and there's mold in your meat and rats in your larder and -how did they get there-?
I'm thankful for the newly elected Commoners' Council. They can take the input they gain and offer it to the ears of them that need it. I only hope it's all considered; the foundations of the city are strong, but are they strong enough?
I say yes.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 26, 2019, 12:48 a.m.(8/21/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Evaristo
Are you -sure- you didn't run off with the pink sapphire on your own? My people are meticulous about their book-keeping and I could swear I had that set aside for something else.
No, I'm kidding. My cousin would never steal from me. It actually annoys him how honest he is with me and my things. I laugh. I LAUGH. Because I'm grateful.
No, I'm kidding. My cousin would never steal from me. It actually annoys him how honest he is with me and my things. I laugh. I LAUGH. Because I'm grateful.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 24, 2019, 7:09 p.m.(8/18/1010 AR)
Oliver's chair is in the Crafters guildhall, a memorial and a comfort to me. I wonder if this should become a tradition, for passed Crafters to have a space of seating in their name, so that those that live now can appreciate the foundation left behind but them that came before. I will admit, it brings me solace to sit where he sat, to hold our daughter and kiss her face between petitions and discussions with peers and fellows.
Random thoughts from a melancholy woman in a rare moment; the sun comes out readily enough and the clouds burn away like soft mist.
Random thoughts from a melancholy woman in a rare moment; the sun comes out readily enough and the clouds burn away like soft mist.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 20, 2019, 11:11 p.m.(8/11/1010 AR)
I've been working for near half a year on incorporating Seliki pearls into my work, what with the retinue I receive from Lord Kaldur Seliki as my Patron. I've made several sets, for private collectors as well as larger events, but I made a few emerald-set pieces with the paler Seliki pearls and put them up for sale in my shop. They're beautiful, these pearls, so much so as to be daunting: can I do them justice? Maybe. I'll continue to try; the nacre on these beauties fairly has them glowing from with in, and they come in so many lovely colors.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 20, 2019, 8:50 p.m.(8/10/1010 AR)
I really can't get over this: Ianthe, wound tight around her new orange octopus plush. Legs and arms. She's drooling into its velvet beak. I can't untangle her. She's practically snoring.
I can't stop snickering over this. I CAN'T. Twisted humor, that's me. I know my sister would crack up and make design suggestions. 'Get it -right-, Josie! '
Ah, gods, I'm trying not to cackle, wake the baby, or cry from mirth. I can fail at all but the one.
Being a mother; who knew it'd be so entertaining!
I can't stop snickering over this. I CAN'T. Twisted humor, that's me. I know my sister would crack up and make design suggestions. 'Get it -right-, Josie! '
Ah, gods, I'm trying not to cackle, wake the baby, or cry from mirth. I can fail at all but the one.
Being a mother; who knew it'd be so entertaining!
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 20, 2019, 8:43 p.m.(8/10/1010 AR)
I have in my possession the most wonderful thing: soft, floppy-armed octopus doll. It's -adorable-, cuddly, soft. It has rosy cheeks, and large, dark button eyes. It even has a beak! It's velvet! I can't get enough of this thing. Ianthe may have to fight me for it.
Or not. She's still very small, sort of; the Mercies tell me she's healthy and fat and large for her age. I don't know what they mean, but this could be because Mongoose is her favorite nurse-maid for the moment, but the plushy octopus is her second favorite bed-time cuddle friend, and while at the moment it's almost as long as she is, I'm hard put to untangle her every night from her new eight-armed friend.
Dame Leta Broadbent is the artist behind this lovely creation. I want one in every color and it's -entirely- because I want them and not because I expect more children in my future. Well. More than what I have. Life has been strange.
Or not. She's still very small, sort of; the Mercies tell me she's healthy and fat and large for her age. I don't know what they mean, but this could be because Mongoose is her favorite nurse-maid for the moment, but the plushy octopus is her second favorite bed-time cuddle friend, and while at the moment it's almost as long as she is, I'm hard put to untangle her every night from her new eight-armed friend.
Dame Leta Broadbent is the artist behind this lovely creation. I want one in every color and it's -entirely- because I want them and not because I expect more children in my future. Well. More than what I have. Life has been strange.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 18, 2019, 11:50 p.m.(8/7/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Victus
Was it a monster made entirely of black, human hair?
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 18, 2019, 8:08 p.m.(8/6/1010 AR)
She sat on a throne of bones, eyes hollow, severe, so severe. No color in her cheeks, the edges pale, sharp, hair drifting about her head like seaweed.
She wore a crown of gems, tiny and cut to shimmer, meant to catch the light, winking now with the pressure of current. Across her throat hung diamonds, diamonds of growing size in rows of golden chains from clavicle to sternum. They were meant to catch the light as well, flexing with brilliance with every breath.
But she did not breathe.
No, she glared, her life was in her rage, she stared with ferocity and she raised one hand, heavy and leaden, from the armrest of her pale throne.
I haven't dreamed of her in months, and suddenly I see her face everywhere. Most of my dreams are idyllic, reassuring, mostly made of memory. But sometimes, they are wreathed in my fears, my nightmares, -her- nightmares.
I know the difference though; lesson learned. No more moldy-cheese before bedtime.
She wore a crown of gems, tiny and cut to shimmer, meant to catch the light, winking now with the pressure of current. Across her throat hung diamonds, diamonds of growing size in rows of golden chains from clavicle to sternum. They were meant to catch the light as well, flexing with brilliance with every breath.
But she did not breathe.
No, she glared, her life was in her rage, she stared with ferocity and she raised one hand, heavy and leaden, from the armrest of her pale throne.
I haven't dreamed of her in months, and suddenly I see her face everywhere. Most of my dreams are idyllic, reassuring, mostly made of memory. But sometimes, they are wreathed in my fears, my nightmares, -her- nightmares.
I know the difference though; lesson learned. No more moldy-cheese before bedtime.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 13, 2019, 11:48 p.m.(7/25/1010 AR)
I have something in my possession I never expected to have.
It's a gold comb, from my apprentice days, the first time I had this sweet, forgiving metal at my mercy.
I remember ever hammer divot, every file mark, every unfinished edge.
So long ago.
It's heavier than I remember, weighted down with memory as much as material. Promise, too, of what was to come, of the things it entailed.
I'm left wondering over the meaning of it all, as foolish as I'm told my thoughts of 'destiny' are, I'm still wondering. Wondering wondering.
What does any of this -mean-?
It's a gold comb, from my apprentice days, the first time I had this sweet, forgiving metal at my mercy.
I remember ever hammer divot, every file mark, every unfinished edge.
So long ago.
It's heavier than I remember, weighted down with memory as much as material. Promise, too, of what was to come, of the things it entailed.
I'm left wondering over the meaning of it all, as foolish as I'm told my thoughts of 'destiny' are, I'm still wondering. Wondering wondering.
What does any of this -mean-?
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 13, 2019, 12:12 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Oh no.
No no no.
NO.
Ianthe is -crawling-.
What the fuck I thought I had more time to baby proof shit.
NO. NO NO NO.
Quick, someone tell me how much it costs to raise everything in my shop by two feet. Higher counters! Tables!
-shit- I have -forges- and -hammers- within grabbing distance...!
FUCK.
SLOW DOWN, BABY. You're worse than your namesake!
No no no.
NO.
Ianthe is -crawling-.
What the fuck I thought I had more time to baby proof shit.
NO. NO NO NO.
Quick, someone tell me how much it costs to raise everything in my shop by two feet. Higher counters! Tables!
-shit- I have -forges- and -hammers- within grabbing distance...!
FUCK.
SLOW DOWN, BABY. You're worse than your namesake!
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 6, 2019, 7:51 p.m.(7/10/1010 AR)
You stupid, beautiful, bloody idiot.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 5, 2019, 4:22 p.m.(7/8/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Kaldur
A shipment of black pearls was delivered to me this morning, a massive crate from the Seliki holdings, carefully packed with boxes padded and cradled with wool and dried kelp, cushioned and, I'm told, slightly oiled to keep the sea-gems from drying out.
I've learned more from my patron in the topic of pearls than I ever thought was possible. They come in almost as many colors as sapphires, and as multi-hued as some Gemecittan crystals. My fingers couldn't stop themselves, straying over the trays as they were spilled forth. So beautiful, so -rich-, hardy and yet soft enough to carve.
[a note is scribbled: carved pearls, pendants? the larger formed ones almost appear to have -faces- in them...!]
In the next fortnight, I may have more items to restock my shop, but with -pearls-, my dears.
-Seliki- pearls.
I've learned more from my patron in the topic of pearls than I ever thought was possible. They come in almost as many colors as sapphires, and as multi-hued as some Gemecittan crystals. My fingers couldn't stop themselves, straying over the trays as they were spilled forth. So beautiful, so -rich-, hardy and yet soft enough to carve.
[a note is scribbled: carved pearls, pendants? the larger formed ones almost appear to have -faces- in them...!]
In the next fortnight, I may have more items to restock my shop, but with -pearls-, my dears.
-Seliki- pearls.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.