Written By Wylla
June 13, 2018, 5:13 p.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Niklas
I do need to talk to you. What upsets me is that you know better than to behave like that. Cruelty isn't to anyone's benefit, noble or commoner alike. There was no reason to blow smoke in anyone's face, or to talk down to the woman as you did. It's upsetting.
Written By Lumen
June 13, 2018, 4:37 p.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Bastien
Budgets are such fickle creatures!
Written By Duarte
June 13, 2018, 4:34 p.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Bastien
Curious indeed. If true, I will pay for its publication myself. The bulletins are endlessly useful and the collator and publisher deserve reward.
Written By Bastien
June 13, 2018, 4:20 p.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
I find it curious that the Crown apparently can't find the funds to actually _pay_ anyone for the work of putting together the Commoners' Bulletin.
Written By Reigna
June 13, 2018, 4:02 p.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
I think I am coming around to my husband's view on people.
Written By Norwood
June 13, 2018, 1:01 p.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
I feel almost honor bound to state that honey in no way, shape, nor form should be associated with feces.
Written By Niklas
June 13, 2018, 12:05 p.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Iseulet
I may catch hell when the Archlector of Jayus catches up to me.
Written By Iseulet
June 13, 2018, 11:54 a.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Niklas
Thank goodness, sounds like you'd catch something.
Written By Leona
June 13, 2018, 9:35 a.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Jaenelle
I hate to spoil a secret, but my sister has a fine mind behind that socially cheerful exterior. Also a rapier wit. Could not be prouder. Could not.
Written By Leona
June 13, 2018, 9:01 a.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Bastien
I say this publicly, even as vague as it is.
You are right, and that is to the shame of many.
You are right, and that is to the shame of many.
Written By Petra
June 13, 2018, 8:49 a.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
I find myself joining the social aspect of Arx more and more of late. It is a balm to the soul, after the time I have spent on my own, and I am glad of it. I have spent some time reading palms, more of an entertainment for salons and drawing rooms than listening to the winds. I'm still acclimating to the customs of the dryfeet, as of yet no one has expressed anger at my readings, but I suspect that may happen sometime.
Now I wonder, in which direction will we head next?
Now I wonder, in which direction will we head next?
Written By Niklas
June 13, 2018, 8:48 a.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Iseulet
Oh, I'm not the one dining.
Written By Iseulet
June 13, 2018, 7:36 a.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Niklas
Gads, what restaurant have you been eating at?
Written By Iseulet
June 13, 2018, 7:35 a.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
What a magnificent week! I just wish I could do more.
The Opening Night went wonderfully and reached long into the night
The Empyrean's members area is open for a few more days still for people to come have a look around and I will be focusing on this for a while.
This means I have had to postpone the Singles Soiree for a week or two. I know I've had increasing interest in it as of late.
In other news - between all this I'm looking for someone to give me etiquette lessons specifically revolving around the Lyceum and their history, politics, traditions, etc. If you're interested in imparting some wisdom, do let me know.
I may write a little book on it. I may not. It depends on how much time I have in the coming days/weeks and how knowledgeable I become on the subject.
The Opening Night went wonderfully and reached long into the night
The Empyrean's members area is open for a few more days still for people to come have a look around and I will be focusing on this for a while.
This means I have had to postpone the Singles Soiree for a week or two. I know I've had increasing interest in it as of late.
In other news - between all this I'm looking for someone to give me etiquette lessons specifically revolving around the Lyceum and their history, politics, traditions, etc. If you're interested in imparting some wisdom, do let me know.
I may write a little book on it. I may not. It depends on how much time I have in the coming days/weeks and how knowledgeable I become on the subject.
Written By Niklas
June 13, 2018, 7:07 a.m.(12/23/1008 AR)
Lies from a pretty mouth are still lies.
One can pour honey on a turd, but one still should not eat it.
One can pour honey on a turd, but one still should not eat it.
Written By Barik
June 13, 2018, 1:08 a.m.(12/22/1008 AR)
Last night I visited the Amphitheatre with a particularly gregarious, and open-minded, mirrormask woman of - thus far - fascinating interests. But that's not the point of this diary. We merely walked; we treaded up the dark, marbled steps into sits merely as to share conversation, but it wouldn't last long. She soon departed, and I was left - completely out of place - amidst a crowd of almost a hundred folk staring at an empty, yet lit stage.
I am, to this day, the only person I know to be terrorized by the prospect of music. There is something; something about it, something I cannot explain and give justice in words to the feeling it brings to my chest. An evil thing, for it goes against my nature and thus all things that collide with one's nature are evil, to hear a melodic display felt no different than to fall in a stupor. The way it plays with one's emotions, however once controlled, is daunting at the very least. But it was too late to leave- the lanterns that once lit the pathways leading down were snuffed out, and being afraid of heights I wouldn't dare step out of my little selection at the highest point in fear of tumbling down to the bottom, twisted in eight different dislocated ways. And so I waited.
As the fire died down, and the lights of the amphitheatre centered themselves upon the stage; as shadows framed this podium of wood and undulating, flickering flames, from within the crimson curtains staged a figure of melancholy, a woman dressed in a half take of white to her left's whole, and black to her right. She wore an elegantly flowing dress, of same hue and color to the bodypainting that deemed her a reflection of black and white. Such makeup sought to hide the nervous blush hidden beneath the blanket of contradicting hues, which it did wonderfully. A perceptive man would've noticed her tentative steps into the center of stage, for whoever dressed and embodied she was for the occasion, the woman beneath the collaboration of cloth clearly wasn't. And then she sang - Gods, she sang - and one could feel good triumph within her soul as all fears melted when the words came. She said them as if she had known them her whole life, and however many she had been gifted prior to this one. Something about a man - about a pursue, nostalgia, regret and spite. A pitfall into a self-destructive relationship clung to by two parties refusing to loosen a grip on a burning bond.
As the evening faded into color, mirth, sniffling women and men alike, a particularly sad - and thus spurred on by the song - woman dressed in dark, flowing purples beside me shared looks of passion in my direction, but luckily one single lift of my arm and the pungent smell of my armpit quickly send her off like the rodent in heat she was. I hadn't bathed in week and a half, I was prepared for the ocassion.
I left when the song and singing woman left. The emotions she gave me didn't belong to me, they belonged to her. Art's a terrifying thing, compassion and empathy the bane of duty. Next time I'll brave the dark steps rather than wait and live through it all again.
I am, to this day, the only person I know to be terrorized by the prospect of music. There is something; something about it, something I cannot explain and give justice in words to the feeling it brings to my chest. An evil thing, for it goes against my nature and thus all things that collide with one's nature are evil, to hear a melodic display felt no different than to fall in a stupor. The way it plays with one's emotions, however once controlled, is daunting at the very least. But it was too late to leave- the lanterns that once lit the pathways leading down were snuffed out, and being afraid of heights I wouldn't dare step out of my little selection at the highest point in fear of tumbling down to the bottom, twisted in eight different dislocated ways. And so I waited.
As the fire died down, and the lights of the amphitheatre centered themselves upon the stage; as shadows framed this podium of wood and undulating, flickering flames, from within the crimson curtains staged a figure of melancholy, a woman dressed in a half take of white to her left's whole, and black to her right. She wore an elegantly flowing dress, of same hue and color to the bodypainting that deemed her a reflection of black and white. Such makeup sought to hide the nervous blush hidden beneath the blanket of contradicting hues, which it did wonderfully. A perceptive man would've noticed her tentative steps into the center of stage, for whoever dressed and embodied she was for the occasion, the woman beneath the collaboration of cloth clearly wasn't. And then she sang - Gods, she sang - and one could feel good triumph within her soul as all fears melted when the words came. She said them as if she had known them her whole life, and however many she had been gifted prior to this one. Something about a man - about a pursue, nostalgia, regret and spite. A pitfall into a self-destructive relationship clung to by two parties refusing to loosen a grip on a burning bond.
As the evening faded into color, mirth, sniffling women and men alike, a particularly sad - and thus spurred on by the song - woman dressed in dark, flowing purples beside me shared looks of passion in my direction, but luckily one single lift of my arm and the pungent smell of my armpit quickly send her off like the rodent in heat she was. I hadn't bathed in week and a half, I was prepared for the ocassion.
I left when the song and singing woman left. The emotions she gave me didn't belong to me, they belonged to her. Art's a terrifying thing, compassion and empathy the bane of duty. Next time I'll brave the dark steps rather than wait and live through it all again.
Written By Bree
June 13, 2018, 12:52 a.m.(12/22/1008 AR)
Ylva and I were reminiscing about the past today. She had forgotten how annoying I could be. Naturally, I just had to remind her. We've been together such a short time but it feels much longer! It keeps getting more and more dangerous, too. How long can this Solace protect her Mercy? Til the end of days if need be.
Ylva doesn't much like blood. She doesn't say so - what sense would that make for a Mercy - but I can tell anyway. Still, a lot of people died when we went on that expedition. On the plus side I did find a few rare flowers. Good for naught but sowing into one's hair but they're terribly pretty.
Ylva doesn't much like blood. She doesn't say so - what sense would that make for a Mercy - but I can tell anyway. Still, a lot of people died when we went on that expedition. On the plus side I did find a few rare flowers. Good for naught but sowing into one's hair but they're terribly pretty.
Written By Alarissa
June 13, 2018, 12:30 a.m.(12/22/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Edward
The lighthouse that stands on the lands of the Baron Stormbreak, are a sight to behold. Twice now I have had a chance to ascend to lofty heights and regard the spread of Magnata's domain. This was breathtaking in as much as the other was. To speak with the disciple of Mangata who maintains it was a privilege, and even more so was my thought before leaving Arx, to have brought the lantern from the rite of the thirteen lanterns with us. That flame from the eternal flame that the house keeps kindled.
We brought it to the pinnacle of that lighthouse and in a small impromptu ceremony, lit a reed and joined the offshoot of that eternal flame to the lighthouses. In each port that we have stopped, we have tried to leave some lick of the flame behind, and to spread Lagoma's lights as we sail, spread the light meant for the Mourning Isles.
The Barons hospitality was more geared to giving respite from the heavy and hectic schedule and it was well received. While I may not always see eye to eye with the man, he has shown a hospitality equal to what we have enjoyed on this journey.
We brought it to the pinnacle of that lighthouse and in a small impromptu ceremony, lit a reed and joined the offshoot of that eternal flame to the lighthouses. In each port that we have stopped, we have tried to leave some lick of the flame behind, and to spread Lagoma's lights as we sail, spread the light meant for the Mourning Isles.
The Barons hospitality was more geared to giving respite from the heavy and hectic schedule and it was well received. While I may not always see eye to eye with the man, he has shown a hospitality equal to what we have enjoyed on this journey.
Written By Joscelin
June 13, 2018, 12:24 a.m.(12/22/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
I don't like my evenings that exciting.
But thank you, 'cousin', for the help cleaning up. And the scone.
Yes, that was an impressive scone-toss. We should hold a tournament.
But thank you, 'cousin', for the help cleaning up. And the scone.
Yes, that was an impressive scone-toss. We should hold a tournament.
Written By Mirari
June 12, 2018, 11:34 p.m.(12/22/1008 AR)
There is nothing more amusing than watching a nearly naked man trying to keep a silver coin off the ground with his sword. Apparently this is a thing that some people do for training, I just go to the training grounds.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.