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Written By Patrizio

July 18, 2021, 12:57 p.m.(11/11/1015 AR)

It is not often that I am left for a lack of words.

Last night's gala at the Golden Hart - to raise funds in support of those harmed in the recent war against the Skal'daja - surpassed my loftiest expectations. Not only was I made to live up to the initial match I had offered for donations, but even once I'd raised it, it was again exceeded. My bank account is far lighter, but for a magnificent cause. I am sincerely indebted to all those who contributed, be it through the raffle or by direct donation, who stood up to be counted amongst those who honour those who gave so much that our Compact would endure.

I would be equally remiss if I missed saying that the gala would not have been such a success without my co-conspirators - Princess Cerys of Velenosa, the mistress of the Raffle, and Princess Valencia of Velenosa, whose organization of the fete at the Golden Hart itself was the stuff of legends.

May the gods smile upon our combined efforts.

Written By Medeia

July 18, 2021, 11:39 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

There is nothing more terrifying or more worthwhile than surviving regardless of that which would see your story end. Every breath taken is an act of bravery and defiance. Every step is progress they wish had never happened. But they cannot undo you. The impact that you have made will still have affected the world in some way. All the actions we take change the world.

Oh, sure. There are exceptions. Someone could argue endlessly that I am wrong. I know a few ways in which I am wrong already. But those arguments can only happen with survivors.

Written By Ida

July 18, 2021, 11:21 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

It is surely no shock to anyone that I favor dragon themes in my work. Because of this, though, I also tend to be a little more critical of the design phase because I want them to be really, really good. I'm not sure if I managed that this time, but the sketch I ended up with inspired a variety of different types of weapons forged from an equal variety of metals. The latter mostly because I've ended up with what could be called a ridiculous hoard of materials that certainly should be used for more than just collecting dust.

Written By Sedna

July 18, 2021, 10:30 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

My attempts at new pieces are dominated, again and again, by the return of a single figure. Sometimes it's just a tiny imperfection in the glass bearing a vague semblance. If I lean in, it's a shock of white with legs and arms stretched outward like a star. Always small, always low. Inspiration is such a fickle thing. I should pray to Jayus that this one, in particular, leaves me be.

Written By Cufre

July 18, 2021, 10:13 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

Every now and then a customer brings me a clot of necklaces that have worked themselves into a tangle. Picking them apart takes time, something pointy, and a willingness to walk away for a while.

Written By Cristoph

July 18, 2021, 10:02 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

There are times when I think that the entire world has been painted over gray, that there will never be another point of hope in the endless trudge toward... what? I'm not certain. But then I find bright moments of light, be they quiet times with close friends, a meeting of minds trying to puzzle out a solution, or the touch of someone beloved.

There is respite out there, and more, I think. If we're willing to keep looking for it. I am.

Written By Amari

July 18, 2021, 9:50 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

I better understand why some people might choose to be aggressively ignorant and only concern themselves with the here and now. It's a soothing salve for frustration, and they needn't ever have to ever concern themselves with furtively scurrying about like a rat gathering rubbish in secret and hoping there's something tasty in it.

Where's this generation's Archscholar Py or Scholar Tomlin? Gods bless them both. I wish we had a scholar their equal now.

Written By Evaristo

July 18, 2021, 7:39 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

Finding myself with plenty of free time, I've delved into research again, and having caught up with people wishing to meet me for various reasons. It's been a few very interesting weeks, with new acquaintances and dare I say, even friends. There's something so satisfactory sitting near a fireplace, discussing an interesting historical topic, learning more or sharing knowledge with someone else.

Written By Mabelle

July 18, 2021, 6:21 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

As we explored some of our more remote grounds we came upon the Grayhill mansion, wonderful founds there, interesting as well considering how well they have been preserved for centuries. Yes scholar, centuries. I have collected some invaluable pieces for the Artshall Museum - including a few family portraits, all with single heads, old journals and letters.

Scanning the rooms outside the mansion, I came upon some tools of those who served the family, including the rooms that belonged to the family seamstress. There were weird metals there measuring body sizes. I might have tried one on. I might have gotten stuck in it on the ride home.
That's what I get for traveling in a wagon. Too much space. Traveling stuck in a metal contraption for several hours was not very enjoyable. Next time you see ancient tools of seamstresses, do not try it on! Still, I managed not to break it and deliver it to where the museum items are kept.

Written By Cesare

July 18, 2021, 2:51 a.m.(11/10/1015 AR)

Relationship Note on Savio

Nothing that shines ever sees its own light. Perhaps it's the nature of things that the brightest are only ever staring out into the darkness of the void. But I see your light. I'll keep telling you it's there as long as you need. I'll keep telling other people about it. However long it takes. And if I'm angry, it won't be with you.

Written By Cirroch

July 17, 2021, 10:30 p.m.(11/9/1015 AR)

Princess Valencia and Prince Patrizio out did themselves with the gala at the Golden Hart. I'm sure the argument from many was to be needing to be rolled out of the gardens, as a mix between foods from sweet green melon wrapped in salty cured ham, and spicy skewers of fresh prawn to a sweetened creamy white cheese drizzled with fig infused balsamic and profiteroles have left me heavier than I walked in. And We brought a heavy donation along with.

Conversations of what might bite the wearer and seeing friends again made the whole gala more than worth it. I do hope that they were able to reach their goals.

Written By Mia

July 17, 2021, 5:27 p.m.(11/9/1015 AR)

So often, I sit and read the journals left by others where they've marked the passing of time by the turn of a season, of another birthday, of the age of a child.

While it's true that these all denote the change of dates of a calendar, I've come to believe that the real mark of passed time is that one frozen moment where you look back at something that you used to do, or say, or -- most importantly -- believe and laugh at yourself. Then comes the inevitable realization that if this is some axiom of life, one day some time in the future, provided you live long enough, you'll be laughing again at who you are right now.

How jolly Lagoma must be. Sooner or later, she makes fools of us all.

Written By Cesare

July 17, 2021, 5:13 p.m.(11/9/1015 AR)

Relationship Note on Viviana

Sometimes recognition is comfort. Sometimes it's the deepest loneliness of all.

Written By Savio

July 17, 2021, 3:57 p.m.(11/9/1015 AR)

I did the best that I could do for as long as I could do it
But all the paths are closed to me; there is no way through this
I know that you'll be angry and I don't know what to say
No one ever jumps if they can find another way.

Written By Sydney

July 17, 2021, 2:30 p.m.(11/9/1015 AR)

I received your gift.

Your duties have taken you to places I can't visit, but I often wonder after your wellbeing. I imagine this would elicit a simpering gaze in my direction, but that you might privately be pleased.

There is much and more left to do, and I hope to see even a fraction of it on this turn of the wheel, which I shall always treat as my last - for who indeed could replace Sydney Waterfall, even if they held glimpses and fragments of who she was in the turn prior?

Written By Viviana

July 17, 2021, 10:11 a.m.(11/8/1015 AR)

My lovely carved bed. The fragrance of the wood from a place that reminds me most of home, the salt air, warm skin musk, sticky haze and ginger and spiced rum. Alone, with silks and furs and my own heavy thoughts. Still and quiet. A passing moment of loneliness so profound that I thought it would shatter me. I sobbed. I wept myself to exhaustion. It's catharsis to cry --

Afterward, I met my eyes in the mirror across my quarters.

Saw myself.

Written By Zakhar

July 17, 2021, 9:07 a.m.(11/8/1015 AR)

It would be best if all are on the same page. Was pretty sure I was promised bones.
Though Gurte made a good stew. And, I suppressed myself. They were left A...live.

Written By Gloriel

July 16, 2021, 10:37 p.m.(11/7/1015 AR)

An eventful evening at House Grayson; a fine dinner with fine company. Well, save the one gentleman who arrived late and dressed like a pauper. He seemed rather fascinated with Duke Malcolm... but, he is a rather interesting man. Perhaps it was nothing.

Thought there was that comment about Whitepeak.

Written By Cesare

July 16, 2021, 10:02 p.m.(11/7/1015 AR)

I watched when you woke this morning - that syrup-slowness, the shape of your shoulders as you pulled on your shirt. The way you looked out the window for a minute or more, as if there was something important over those daybreak roofs there only you could see. The curve of your neck in that cold dawn light, white as marble, the only time you could be mistaken for something so inert.

I cherished those moments in which you thought yourself unobserved; I didn’t want you to know I’d woken too. I wanted to watch the stretch-and-clutch of your ribs and know you were thinking of the day ahead. Maybe of then night before. Not some errant, unnecessary touch of guilt for having pulled me back from the mists of dreaming. When I let my eyes slip, looking at you from between my lashes yielded another picture, like a painting smudged by a careless hand. Just light and shadow, dappled together, always shifting. Isn’t that what we all are?

Some people would think it foolish, to find something so profound in such a simple act. But not you. I know you’d understand: This is what beauty is. These are the pieces of life that are worth gripping tighter than the rest, clasping closest. When we talk about hope, this is what we often forget.

I’m sorry this doesn’t rhyme. Maybe it’s not really a poem at all. But it’s for you.

Written By Giada

July 16, 2021, 6:36 a.m.(11/6/1015 AR)

I'm expecting the Not Here to arrive anyday now. Well, I'm hoping it will because I've got a lot of work to do. A lot of work.

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