Written By Brianna
June 27, 2019, 10:12 p.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
It's odd that I've never owned a ring before recently. When I was younger, I never liked the feeling of things on my fingers, and it stuck with me long past when it should have ended.
Naturally, now that I have a ring, I never want to take it off.
Naturally, now that I have a ring, I never want to take it off.
Written By Vanora
June 27, 2019, 9:33 p.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
I dearly wish that I had been able to attend the event in the new Lily garden that Petal has created. I'm sure it was wonderful, and I expect I will find myself there too in my own time.
Written By Fortunato
June 27, 2019, 9:19 p.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
I don't know what to think. Or to say.
But I'm going to try this bracelet thing. Distilling people's stories into a bit of metal they can keep with them.
It's something you would've liked, maybe.
But I'm going to try this bracelet thing. Distilling people's stories into a bit of metal they can keep with them.
It's something you would've liked, maybe.
Written By Maja
June 27, 2019, 4:56 p.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sina
When I write about my daily life -- the highs and lows, the grand things and the inconsequential -- it is always done so with purpose. Leaving a record of our triumphs and failures, no matter how small, is a precious thing.
It is also so that, when the bird uprising happens and those FOWL beasts murder nearly all of us, the survivors will be able to look back and see how it happened and what we lost.
In closing: birds -- still the worst.
It is also so that, when the bird uprising happens and those FOWL beasts murder nearly all of us, the survivors will be able to look back and see how it happened and what we lost.
In closing: birds -- still the worst.
Written By Helena
June 27, 2019, 3:07 p.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
I am excited to be helping with the upcoming Festival of Death, and will be hosting two events.
I wanted, for anyone who actual reads this journal of mine, to explain why I'm helping, first. I'm not a Harlequin, and am in fact a believer and follower of both the Pantheon and the Shamanism of the north.
But the Queen of Endings and Beginnings is, like all of our gods and goddesses, one to honor and respect and love. Many fear her, but she is the one who gives our souls second chances at times, or brings us home to her when the time is right for us. I have recently found that my soul is one of those who has had a second chance (or however many!) and for that I am grateful, because the love I have known from the friends and family in my life is a gift beyond measure.
***
On to the events (these are just the two I am planning -- there will be many others by others on the Festival committee)!
There will be a poetry reading at the Shrine of the Queen. All of my regular poets and poetry lovers are of course most welcome to come and share a poem, as are any newcomers as well. This time, however, I do ask the poems be inspired by the Queen and her workings. Please send a messenger to me if you would like to read your original work at the reading; I will be creating a schedule of readers in advance. A book of the poems read that day will be made to be sold with proceeds going to the Harlequins.
A fashion show, with designs inspired as well by the Queen, will be held. Anyone can enter and prizes will be given in the categories of skulls, spiders, bats, and overall theme. A donation is appreciated, but not required, which will also go to the Harlequins for their work. All models need to write a paragraph describing their outfit that will be read during their time on the runway. Men -- this is not a ladies event only! Do show up and show off your finest breeches.
Those with questions can certainly feel free to message me.
I wanted, for anyone who actual reads this journal of mine, to explain why I'm helping, first. I'm not a Harlequin, and am in fact a believer and follower of both the Pantheon and the Shamanism of the north.
But the Queen of Endings and Beginnings is, like all of our gods and goddesses, one to honor and respect and love. Many fear her, but she is the one who gives our souls second chances at times, or brings us home to her when the time is right for us. I have recently found that my soul is one of those who has had a second chance (or however many!) and for that I am grateful, because the love I have known from the friends and family in my life is a gift beyond measure.
***
On to the events (these are just the two I am planning -- there will be many others by others on the Festival committee)!
There will be a poetry reading at the Shrine of the Queen. All of my regular poets and poetry lovers are of course most welcome to come and share a poem, as are any newcomers as well. This time, however, I do ask the poems be inspired by the Queen and her workings. Please send a messenger to me if you would like to read your original work at the reading; I will be creating a schedule of readers in advance. A book of the poems read that day will be made to be sold with proceeds going to the Harlequins.
A fashion show, with designs inspired as well by the Queen, will be held. Anyone can enter and prizes will be given in the categories of skulls, spiders, bats, and overall theme. A donation is appreciated, but not required, which will also go to the Harlequins for their work. All models need to write a paragraph describing their outfit that will be read during their time on the runway. Men -- this is not a ladies event only! Do show up and show off your finest breeches.
Those with questions can certainly feel free to message me.
Written By Monique
June 27, 2019, 2:55 p.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
Two Pendants won in the Tournament of Thorns! It's quite an accomplishment, and Princess Vega and Lady Narcissa ought to be congratulated for their incredible feat. Shower them in gifts! Send them booze! Ask to see their beautiful Pendants, designed by the equally talented Princess Marisol.
Written By Lou
June 27, 2019, 2:50 p.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
This one perfect day has inspired me to wax nostalgic over my latest exploratory trip.
Whitepeak. They called it the City of Miracles. It fell when Lorwroth Kinsbane sacked it. Its location had been forgotten for a long time, until a team of rather dedicated explorers shared information, worked together, and determinedly put their heads together, along with a smattering of help from outsiders, were able to discover general vicinity of where it should exist. It's been a topic of conversation over a number of centuries; explorers trying to find it, long thought impossible.
It was Sir Jordan Ober that had first brought the mountain to my attention asked me to find it; he was my protégé at the time. Rediscovering the location of the mountain was the best way I figured I could ever honor him after his heroic passing in saving Duke Harlan Ashford's life. And oh, how we did. He would have been both saddened and mystified to see the magnificence of Whitepeak.
The streets of Whitepeak were riddled with the skeletons of the people that Lorwroth Kinsbane and his warriors slew; those cut down while they tried to escape the grandeur of the city, else face his mighty wrath. Many of the buildings were destroyed. However, not all things were lost. Some things survived; great works of art, snippets of a lost language, trinkets made of brass, statues made of every kind of metal imaginable. The city is nowhere near as big as Arx, but it is big enough that it will take many, many decades to properly explore and catalog.
The first piece discovered, a tiny brass statue of a griffin, will be on loan to the Society of Explorers when we finally finish constructing our museum. I long to go back even now, but. . . seeing the city in all of its glory has made me realize that I need to see to doing my part at making sure the rest of Arvum gets to experience every bit of wonder I do when I go out and explore things; both the good and the terrible.
Whitepeak. They called it the City of Miracles. It fell when Lorwroth Kinsbane sacked it. Its location had been forgotten for a long time, until a team of rather dedicated explorers shared information, worked together, and determinedly put their heads together, along with a smattering of help from outsiders, were able to discover general vicinity of where it should exist. It's been a topic of conversation over a number of centuries; explorers trying to find it, long thought impossible.
It was Sir Jordan Ober that had first brought the mountain to my attention asked me to find it; he was my protégé at the time. Rediscovering the location of the mountain was the best way I figured I could ever honor him after his heroic passing in saving Duke Harlan Ashford's life. And oh, how we did. He would have been both saddened and mystified to see the magnificence of Whitepeak.
The streets of Whitepeak were riddled with the skeletons of the people that Lorwroth Kinsbane and his warriors slew; those cut down while they tried to escape the grandeur of the city, else face his mighty wrath. Many of the buildings were destroyed. However, not all things were lost. Some things survived; great works of art, snippets of a lost language, trinkets made of brass, statues made of every kind of metal imaginable. The city is nowhere near as big as Arx, but it is big enough that it will take many, many decades to properly explore and catalog.
The first piece discovered, a tiny brass statue of a griffin, will be on loan to the Society of Explorers when we finally finish constructing our museum. I long to go back even now, but. . . seeing the city in all of its glory has made me realize that I need to see to doing my part at making sure the rest of Arvum gets to experience every bit of wonder I do when I go out and explore things; both the good and the terrible.
Written By Lucita
June 27, 2019, 1:50 p.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Ailith
Such generosity! What a beautiful gift you sent to me. I will certainly enjoy wearing the beautiful blue dress and mask.
Written By Evaristo
June 27, 2019, 12:20 p.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
New Socks - The Josie Poem
New Socks
By Evaristo Arterius
To Joscelin Arterius
The best cousin-sister
Fresh scones and cussing
'Take your dirty boots off!'
A hole in my sock
and there's more cussing
and worry about my feet
but also
new socks
I eat ten of the scones
and half of the butter
when you're not watching
and you cuss again
I laugh and run away
But I'm wearing
new socks
But I always came back
and you always forgave me
One year, a month, a week
felt like nothing when
I came back to scones
and cussing
and new socks
But now you feel that wonder
of new Beginnings and adventure
That which always worried
that which always baffled
Now you know
and you can love the new world
with cussings
and new socks
New Socks
By Evaristo Arterius
To Joscelin Arterius
The best cousin-sister
Fresh scones and cussing
'Take your dirty boots off!'
A hole in my sock
and there's more cussing
and worry about my feet
but also
new socks
I eat ten of the scones
and half of the butter
when you're not watching
and you cuss again
I laugh and run away
But I'm wearing
new socks
But I always came back
and you always forgave me
One year, a month, a week
felt like nothing when
I came back to scones
and cussing
and new socks
But now you feel that wonder
of new Beginnings and adventure
That which always worried
that which always baffled
Now you know
and you can love the new world
with cussings
and new socks
Written By Miranda
June 27, 2019, 11:35 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Helena
I feel truly thankful for those in Arx who consider me 'friend' enough to offer a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen with.
Grief takes on many forms and I find mine tends to jump out and bother me when I least expect it.
I can be happy and playful one moment and someone can speak about or do something that will suddenly sap me of all my joy. It brings me to a point where the grief is new and real as if it weren't months old. And, sometimes, the grief and memories, even the good ones, bring me to such a dark place, I can hardly see my way clear of it.
So, thank you, Princess Helena, for being an ear and for offering your shoulder. It was most appreciated and I enjoyed the chance to talk.
Grief takes on many forms and I find mine tends to jump out and bother me when I least expect it.
I can be happy and playful one moment and someone can speak about or do something that will suddenly sap me of all my joy. It brings me to a point where the grief is new and real as if it weren't months old. And, sometimes, the grief and memories, even the good ones, bring me to such a dark place, I can hardly see my way clear of it.
So, thank you, Princess Helena, for being an ear and for offering your shoulder. It was most appreciated and I enjoyed the chance to talk.
Written By Gunther
June 27, 2019, 11:17 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Sally,
There is them nights Sally where I am tuckered out. Just plum dragging keister an' all. Ain't that I'm feelin' my age or nuthin' but it is just that some of them days when I see people in love it gets to me and just takes my gumption right outta these old bones. When them strangers is holdin' hands or necking I just get to missing you something awful. Even arguments! Why, I saw this old couple they was going at each other like two young goats buttin' heads and all I could do was just get this gut ache and think on you and us.
Wish that was us Sally and it ain't fair none that it weren't. I would give anything to be fightin' over that pillow with you. We could only afford the one as tattered as it was. Them prickly duck feathers always pokin' ya in the ear. I miss us tosslin' over it and sure in the end you always won. It was the act of it that was special. You was the only person beat me every time we wrassled. Wonder if you knew that you was and why.
Wish I truly knew how special it was when it was.
I did a little bit then. Reckon I see it all the time now.
Love always,
Gunther
There is them nights Sally where I am tuckered out. Just plum dragging keister an' all. Ain't that I'm feelin' my age or nuthin' but it is just that some of them days when I see people in love it gets to me and just takes my gumption right outta these old bones. When them strangers is holdin' hands or necking I just get to missing you something awful. Even arguments! Why, I saw this old couple they was going at each other like two young goats buttin' heads and all I could do was just get this gut ache and think on you and us.
Wish that was us Sally and it ain't fair none that it weren't. I would give anything to be fightin' over that pillow with you. We could only afford the one as tattered as it was. Them prickly duck feathers always pokin' ya in the ear. I miss us tosslin' over it and sure in the end you always won. It was the act of it that was special. You was the only person beat me every time we wrassled. Wonder if you knew that you was and why.
Wish I truly knew how special it was when it was.
I did a little bit then. Reckon I see it all the time now.
Love always,
Gunther
Written By Cristoph
June 27, 2019, 10:49 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
I hope Marquis Keaton and Lord Asriel are enjoying their birds.
Written By Alecstazi
June 27, 2019, 10:30 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sina
Your words grace us, Archscholar, and inspire, I am certain, more than just myself to commit more to the contemplation of our daily notations. Our journals are sacred, a bridge between ourselves and the gods, an expression of our souls, a transcript of our darkest fears or desires.
I was entirely with you until you spoke a single line, and that made me pause. You spoke of committing to writing the truth.
In my years in this world, if I have learned one thing, it is that truth is more clay than stone.
Two men can have a single, simple interaction and walk away with two entirely different stories that to each is the precise truth of the encounter, and yet utterly contradict the other. And this is not just that people, in general, tend to be the most unreliable witnesses, (Ask any lawyer or law enforcement official and they will tell you that) but it is that truth, like so many other things in this world is almost entirely subjective to the individual.
Even something that should be an objective truth, "The sky is blue," is debatable between people. Is it blue, or cyan? Cobalt or ultramarine?
I may be pushing this a little bit to the extreme, but the gist of my point is that truth, at the end of the day, even when earnestly believed by the one telling it, is rarely, if ever, the solid concept we speak of it as.
I was entirely with you until you spoke a single line, and that made me pause. You spoke of committing to writing the truth.
In my years in this world, if I have learned one thing, it is that truth is more clay than stone.
Two men can have a single, simple interaction and walk away with two entirely different stories that to each is the precise truth of the encounter, and yet utterly contradict the other. And this is not just that people, in general, tend to be the most unreliable witnesses, (Ask any lawyer or law enforcement official and they will tell you that) but it is that truth, like so many other things in this world is almost entirely subjective to the individual.
Even something that should be an objective truth, "The sky is blue," is debatable between people. Is it blue, or cyan? Cobalt or ultramarine?
I may be pushing this a little bit to the extreme, but the gist of my point is that truth, at the end of the day, even when earnestly believed by the one telling it, is rarely, if ever, the solid concept we speak of it as.
Written By Ida
June 27, 2019, 9:37 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
How do you say good-bye to one of the most constant things in your life? You don't, really. You say, 'farewell for now' or 'see you soon' even if you're not sure how long 'soon' may truly be.
Joscelin defies description. My work wife and dearest friend, the exuberance to my reserve, the wicked humor to foil my Oathlands diffidence, the stealer of my hammers and giddy mischief maker in those exact times that I needed something to laugh about. The forger of my Hammer of the West badge, bestowed upon me with my knighthood from Prince Edain. So many years of gossip and laughter and tears.
Memories of us as much younger women, sweeping out old buildings that we would turn into our livelihoods and homes. The loves of craft and partners and friends that ushered down our little stretch of the Merchant Road, the whiskey drunk, the shouts of joy and rage, the arched brows that said, 'oh, here we go,' when no one else knew we were sharing that thought between us.
Our friendship is a veritable life all its own, bound in a love so deep and honest and full of delight that it almost can not be put to things so simple as words. My fiercest defender, my partner in so many things, my sister of metal and creation.
There is no good-bye when someone will always be with you, part of your heart and soul in a most tangible way. When loyalty and adoration will have you cross the world to be beside them if needed and without question.
My grief is only dimmed by my sincere joy for what lays ahead for you. Your chair will remain next to mine, as has always been, until you return to sit in it beside me again and your mischief brightens Arx once more.
Joscelin defies description. My work wife and dearest friend, the exuberance to my reserve, the wicked humor to foil my Oathlands diffidence, the stealer of my hammers and giddy mischief maker in those exact times that I needed something to laugh about. The forger of my Hammer of the West badge, bestowed upon me with my knighthood from Prince Edain. So many years of gossip and laughter and tears.
Memories of us as much younger women, sweeping out old buildings that we would turn into our livelihoods and homes. The loves of craft and partners and friends that ushered down our little stretch of the Merchant Road, the whiskey drunk, the shouts of joy and rage, the arched brows that said, 'oh, here we go,' when no one else knew we were sharing that thought between us.
Our friendship is a veritable life all its own, bound in a love so deep and honest and full of delight that it almost can not be put to things so simple as words. My fiercest defender, my partner in so many things, my sister of metal and creation.
There is no good-bye when someone will always be with you, part of your heart and soul in a most tangible way. When loyalty and adoration will have you cross the world to be beside them if needed and without question.
My grief is only dimmed by my sincere joy for what lays ahead for you. Your chair will remain next to mine, as has always been, until you return to sit in it beside me again and your mischief brightens Arx once more.
Written By Magpie
June 27, 2019, 9:10 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
Another that I've come to call family is leaving. I said cruel things to her when I should have been giving hugs and wishing the best. Maybe that's why this keeps happening? Because I can't keep my damned mouth shut?
I mean, I know she saw past my attitude, she sent me a letter at the last moment. I know things are fine and I know that she will be fine. Everything is fine. We got high together.
The greater the pain, the greater the loss, right? One after another, ripped away by powers outside your control. I don't write many whites these days but I'm angry and I want the world to know it.
Is Grayhope forever destined to be bound as a place of temporary refuge? We've had our inn since the beginning of Arx. People come through for a brief stay, and other times they stay for years. It's not always the safest place, and certainly not the most welcoming (at least where the actual inn is concerned), but we've looked past blood and past lineage (or lack thereof). I'm not going to offer free drinks to everyone, the Crafter's Guild can pay for that. But if you want to talk about how Josie inspired you, there might be a drink earned there, if the story is *good.* I need something to pull me out of this mood.
I mean, I know she saw past my attitude, she sent me a letter at the last moment. I know things are fine and I know that she will be fine. Everything is fine. We got high together.
The greater the pain, the greater the loss, right? One after another, ripped away by powers outside your control. I don't write many whites these days but I'm angry and I want the world to know it.
Is Grayhope forever destined to be bound as a place of temporary refuge? We've had our inn since the beginning of Arx. People come through for a brief stay, and other times they stay for years. It's not always the safest place, and certainly not the most welcoming (at least where the actual inn is concerned), but we've looked past blood and past lineage (or lack thereof). I'm not going to offer free drinks to everyone, the Crafter's Guild can pay for that. But if you want to talk about how Josie inspired you, there might be a drink earned there, if the story is *good.* I need something to pull me out of this mood.
Written By Morrighan
June 27, 2019, 9:08 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
Oh, Josie.
I know well that when you are given a call, it must be answered, and there's no stopping it. In life there is always change, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and sometimes it's what we need, regardless of either. This is the sort I never really anticipated, in my mind I thought you'd be here forever. I have to admit it took the breath from me harder than any punch to the gut I've had. Now I'm at a loss. My heart breaks a little that you've left, that another part of my family is no longer close, and I've no idea where you're going. I can't help but worry if you and the children will be okay, or if you'll come across any trouble, or when you'll be back. I'm overjoyed for you, for the path you've now found for yourself, but I mourn your absence. I feel blessed that our paths were able to converge for as long as they did, and in that time you very much became a sister to me. Until the time comes your path brings you back around, I'll be waiting to welcome you and the children home. Safe travels, Josie. I'll miss you.
Now I need a drink.
I know well that when you are given a call, it must be answered, and there's no stopping it. In life there is always change, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and sometimes it's what we need, regardless of either. This is the sort I never really anticipated, in my mind I thought you'd be here forever. I have to admit it took the breath from me harder than any punch to the gut I've had. Now I'm at a loss. My heart breaks a little that you've left, that another part of my family is no longer close, and I've no idea where you're going. I can't help but worry if you and the children will be okay, or if you'll come across any trouble, or when you'll be back. I'm overjoyed for you, for the path you've now found for yourself, but I mourn your absence. I feel blessed that our paths were able to converge for as long as they did, and in that time you very much became a sister to me. Until the time comes your path brings you back around, I'll be waiting to welcome you and the children home. Safe travels, Josie. I'll miss you.
Now I need a drink.
Written By Thena
June 27, 2019, 8:37 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Crows are smart and acquisitive. They have a fine irreverent sense of humor, they work together, and they mourn their dead. I'm not sure why anyone would believe that they are innately evil.
I'd like to think that's why they are associated with the Grayhopes but maybe I'm just flattering myself.
I'd like to think that's why they are associated with the Grayhopes but maybe I'm just flattering myself.
Written By Evaristo
June 27, 2019, 5:36 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Silk crawled out of the bag when I visited the Iron Guard Barracks. (It was a BUSINESS MEETING, nothing else.) Iron Guards, such staunch, brave protector of our city. And very much devote, as well!
Anyway, Silk is in there SOMEWHERE. I'm sure she's fine, and that there'll be quite a few less mice around the place while she's having fun there, but even so, I'd like her to find her way back. I keep going there to bother the guards in the reception, but so far, nothing.
Very crafty spider though. I keep her in a cozy box with netting. The netting had broken a little and she crawled out, then out of the bag and somewhere into the barracks. Maybe she likes the air in there? Or there's plenty of mice there? Insects?
Anyway, Silk is in there SOMEWHERE. I'm sure she's fine, and that there'll be quite a few less mice around the place while she's having fun there, but even so, I'd like her to find her way back. I keep going there to bother the guards in the reception, but so far, nothing.
Very crafty spider though. I keep her in a cozy box with netting. The netting had broken a little and she crawled out, then out of the bag and somewhere into the barracks. Maybe she likes the air in there? Or there's plenty of mice there? Insects?
Written By Rinel
June 27, 2019, 2:13 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
Though I never had the honour of witnessing you at work, Goodwoman, I was outside the Cathedral today. There is a memory of unsurpassed beauty now within my mind--and I do not believe such a vision can have a purely mortal origin.
I know not where you go, or what you have discovered, but you go there with my thanks and my blessing.
I know not where you go, or what you have discovered, but you go there with my thanks and my blessing.
Written By Sina
June 27, 2019, 1:49 a.m.(5/11/1011 AR)
Over the past few weeks, I have been quietly reading through white journals submitted to the Great Archive. Many topics have come up. Slavery and thralldom. Birds and the little snippets of the lives of the people of the Compact. Dreams and memories, ambitions and hopes, fears and worries and words written in the form of letters to lost loved ones (or living ones). I've seen fictional stories of far-off places written in beautiful prose mingled with things that border on the edge of outright blasphemy. I've seen others criticizing writers for what they choose to share within their white journals.
On Mother Ailith's advice, I looked back through older white journals, picking out all of Beloved Aldwin's entries. He was Archscholar before Mother Bianca, and of course, later went on to become Dominus, and was beloved of the Gods. One thing that struck me about his writing is that his words were eloquent, truthful, and did not shy away from speaking the hard truths of the day. This was during a troubling time as we woke to our history, struggling to find our way, learning that there was much we had forgotten. Beloved Aldwin's journals are a shining example, in my opinion, of what a white journal should be. Not only did they record the events of the day, but they also revealed to us a glimpse of his personality, his love for the Compact and the Gods, and his admiration for those he worked with. He addressed the issues of the day, openly, honestly and accurately.
I think it is time, then, to address a few matters pertaining to journals. First, think upon the words of the Canticle of Vellichor:
"I am the god of histories, and this shall not be the final chapter of your world. This has cost me more than I hope you shall ever learn, but I ask for but little in return. Let the most studious amongst you take sacred vow to forever guard the knowledge of the world, and allow all among you from the greatest to the least to chronicle their lives in journals so their knowledge may never be lost. Guard it well."
Think about this for a moment. Vellichor made a terrible sacrifice in order to bring us knowledge. We, as Scholars, take a sacred vow to guard that knowledge. It is our most sacred duty. You, the people of the Compact, are charged as a part of your Faith, in honor of this sacrifice, to chronicle your lives here; that knowledge, that history, may never be lost. Together, we are all guardians of knowledge in this way. This is the spirit with which these journals are intended. This is their sole essence. These journals bind us together in Faith, as a people. They are our sacred pact with future generations, and with Vellichor.
What you choose to write here within these pages, is whatever you decide to share with the world, and is intended to honor the sacrifice that Vellichor made for us. Perhaps we do not know what that sacrifice was, but we know that it was terrible. So what you write within these pages matters. But it is a choice, as in all things. It is not for anyone to tell you what you may or may not write within these pages. Only you can decide what to share with future generations. But, sometimes there can be consequences to writing here publicly things that are considered anathema, things that are not considered appropriate by general society, things that are heretical or opinions that are so unpopular that they will cause strife. It is your choice if you decide to reveal things that could damage yourself or the reputation of another. In the end, the choice is yours, what you consider to be worthy of Vellichor, and what you consider worth sharing. But be very certain that you wish to take ownership of what may come from what you write within these pages.
For all the rest, there are the Black Reflections. When a Scholar takes their vows to serve as a Disciple of Vellichor, we speak the following words:
"I am a guardian of testimony. The black reflections are a sacred bond between a soul and the gods of the Pantheon. I may record, but that trust must never be violated."
We record your personal and deepest testimony in your black journals within the Confessional in the Great Archive. Those journals are guarded by Godsworn Templars, the Knights of the Library. They are "a sacred bond between a soul and the gods of the Pantheon." Those words are so very important to remember. The Black Reflections are your confessional. Your inner thoughts. As Scholars, it is our sacred duty to guard and protect these. We work closely with the Templars and the Shrine of the Thirteenth to ensure that it is so.
But when you write in your white journal, know that the entire Compact can see your words, and will judge you. History will judge you, in some cases harshly, and decide whether the words you have written within these pages are worthy of Vellichor. Most importantly: Truth. When you write here, consider this: are you giving an accurate representation of history in this moment? Will future generations look back on your words and understand them as truth? Will your words give the people of the future a vision of what it was like, to live in this day and age? Or will your words give a misleading representation of our lives, our faith, our heritage?
Again, what you write within these pages is your choice. But, be certain of the legacy you leave behind, because it does matter what you write here. And be certain that you are honoring Vellichor in the way that is appropriate - in the spirit with which these journals are intended.
On Mother Ailith's advice, I looked back through older white journals, picking out all of Beloved Aldwin's entries. He was Archscholar before Mother Bianca, and of course, later went on to become Dominus, and was beloved of the Gods. One thing that struck me about his writing is that his words were eloquent, truthful, and did not shy away from speaking the hard truths of the day. This was during a troubling time as we woke to our history, struggling to find our way, learning that there was much we had forgotten. Beloved Aldwin's journals are a shining example, in my opinion, of what a white journal should be. Not only did they record the events of the day, but they also revealed to us a glimpse of his personality, his love for the Compact and the Gods, and his admiration for those he worked with. He addressed the issues of the day, openly, honestly and accurately.
I think it is time, then, to address a few matters pertaining to journals. First, think upon the words of the Canticle of Vellichor:
"I am the god of histories, and this shall not be the final chapter of your world. This has cost me more than I hope you shall ever learn, but I ask for but little in return. Let the most studious amongst you take sacred vow to forever guard the knowledge of the world, and allow all among you from the greatest to the least to chronicle their lives in journals so their knowledge may never be lost. Guard it well."
Think about this for a moment. Vellichor made a terrible sacrifice in order to bring us knowledge. We, as Scholars, take a sacred vow to guard that knowledge. It is our most sacred duty. You, the people of the Compact, are charged as a part of your Faith, in honor of this sacrifice, to chronicle your lives here; that knowledge, that history, may never be lost. Together, we are all guardians of knowledge in this way. This is the spirit with which these journals are intended. This is their sole essence. These journals bind us together in Faith, as a people. They are our sacred pact with future generations, and with Vellichor.
What you choose to write here within these pages, is whatever you decide to share with the world, and is intended to honor the sacrifice that Vellichor made for us. Perhaps we do not know what that sacrifice was, but we know that it was terrible. So what you write within these pages matters. But it is a choice, as in all things. It is not for anyone to tell you what you may or may not write within these pages. Only you can decide what to share with future generations. But, sometimes there can be consequences to writing here publicly things that are considered anathema, things that are not considered appropriate by general society, things that are heretical or opinions that are so unpopular that they will cause strife. It is your choice if you decide to reveal things that could damage yourself or the reputation of another. In the end, the choice is yours, what you consider to be worthy of Vellichor, and what you consider worth sharing. But be very certain that you wish to take ownership of what may come from what you write within these pages.
For all the rest, there are the Black Reflections. When a Scholar takes their vows to serve as a Disciple of Vellichor, we speak the following words:
"I am a guardian of testimony. The black reflections are a sacred bond between a soul and the gods of the Pantheon. I may record, but that trust must never be violated."
We record your personal and deepest testimony in your black journals within the Confessional in the Great Archive. Those journals are guarded by Godsworn Templars, the Knights of the Library. They are "a sacred bond between a soul and the gods of the Pantheon." Those words are so very important to remember. The Black Reflections are your confessional. Your inner thoughts. As Scholars, it is our sacred duty to guard and protect these. We work closely with the Templars and the Shrine of the Thirteenth to ensure that it is so.
But when you write in your white journal, know that the entire Compact can see your words, and will judge you. History will judge you, in some cases harshly, and decide whether the words you have written within these pages are worthy of Vellichor. Most importantly: Truth. When you write here, consider this: are you giving an accurate representation of history in this moment? Will future generations look back on your words and understand them as truth? Will your words give the people of the future a vision of what it was like, to live in this day and age? Or will your words give a misleading representation of our lives, our faith, our heritage?
Again, what you write within these pages is your choice. But, be certain of the legacy you leave behind, because it does matter what you write here. And be certain that you are honoring Vellichor in the way that is appropriate - in the spirit with which these journals are intended.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.