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Written By Medeia

June 23, 2021, 9:31 a.m.(9/16/1015 AR)

Relationship Note on Cambria

Imagine if we all received back the love we gave. If we knew it, without question, that even if the sentiment was left unsaid that someone loved us as much as we loved them. So that even if there was no "one," there was some.

But it is far too easy to not recognize the love one is given. And easier still to say nothing of the love one feels when you've been taught it has no place in your duty.

Perhaps I am wrong for believing that love and duty should go hand in hand.

Written By Cambria

June 23, 2021, 12:01 a.m.(9/16/1015 AR)

For all that I have written about love rarely playing a role when it comes to marriage among the Peerage - deep down, I think everybody wants to be 'the one' for somebody.

Written By Piccola

June 22, 2021, 9:28 p.m.(9/15/1015 AR)

The bitter, merciful lesson which death teaches us is to distinguish gold from tinsel, and the true values from the worthless chaff.

The terrible events of life are great eye-openers. They force us to learn that which it is wholesome for us to know, but which habitually we try to ignore: that we have no claim on a long life; that we may be called by the Queen of Endings at any time; and that the value of our lives is not in how long we live but with what meaning we fill the short allotted span with.

For whatever time we have shall be shorter than what we wish.

Written By Thea

June 22, 2021, 8:53 p.m.(9/15/1015 AR)

Information comes to you when you least expect it. From the places you also don't much non expectancies!

Written By Raimon

June 22, 2021, 1:50 p.m.(9/15/1015 AR)

The Wheel turns on! Around we go!
Our lives and deaths roll on.
The stars are born, the stars burn up
And one day they'll be gone.

Aye, cycles come and cycles pass
And we're all caught between!
And only in the rarest glimpse
Can hints of Truth be seen

Creation happens, -many- times
Each time but for -our- sake.
The only way to break the chain?
Each Dreamer must awake!

Awakened from 'good' dreams or 'bad'
The Soul is freed -both- ways
And 'waking' seems the only way
To halt the march of days . . .

Else nightmares alternate with bliss,
-- in infinite refrain.
And every moment that feels 'good'
but heralds one of Pain.

So, seek the Answer that is found
In Timeless moments: Still
It waits behind the hour-hand,
if it eludes my quill.

If neither 'left' nor 'right' will do,
to leave our circled path
It but remains to try to *Rise*
with all the strength one hath!

A wordless wonderment awaits
Our choice to step from Time
Stop running 'round in clockwork rings,
and toward what's Timeless: Climb!

This -can- be done, for know that Thee
hold deep within Thy heart,
Thy- echo of a Timeless Song:
The Truth of Who Thou Art.

Before there were word-songs to sing,
before the Moon rose high,
While all lay Void and Shadow -wrapped,
beneath the unborn sky,

Before there came a 'time' to Be,
before the march of days,
Before the sunset’s wide red arms,
before the dawn’s bright rays,

One Note was spoken to the stars,
to their first flames ignite.
One Song expressed within our Souls
Which Sing, Forever - Bright.

In quiet, earnest wonderment,
You'll watch the Song unfold.
In harmony, your soul will sing:
soft notes of burnished gold.

-Eternity- awaits the Heart
that's nae content with less.
And Minds that hear that Timeless Hymn
Can Ever, only, Bless

Written By Raimon

June 22, 2021, 1:43 p.m.(9/15/1015 AR)

An ancient bargain soiled sands
Both curse and blessing, aye
For poison works -two- ways, you see
So no one has to die. . .

The puffer - fish -is- poisonous.
Extremely so, we're told.  
But that's a puffer's Armor, Shield:
-defensiveness-, two-fold  . . .

All predators that know this trick
are thenceforth given pause.
Attacking this delicious fish
would just their -own- death cause!

Written By Raimon

June 22, 2021, 1:38 p.m.(9/15/1015 AR)

What once was sand has formed to glass,
and glass thence formed to Art!
An Artistry of Octopi!
. . . Of Ocean, from the start.

A beach is just a field of sand
And sand is glass - unborn.
Eventually: glass octopi!
. . . collectable or worn.  

And there's -no- limit to the shades
that Art may gift to glass.
A lavender of blooming buds?
The hale of verdant grass?  

 Thus Nature and the mind can join,
Creating something New!
A spectrum of what's possible,
In each imagined hue. . .

Written By Gael

June 22, 2021, 10:38 a.m.(9/14/1015 AR)

I should say something sweet about the endurance of the Arvani. But I'm still a bit pissed about how we're made to endure.

Written By Claude

June 22, 2021, 5:23 a.m.(9/14/1015 AR)

The Toys for the Compact has been, in my estimation, a success. Of 96 toys made, only 14 remain unsold. But herein lies my dilemma. What to do with these unsold toys? At the current rate of sales they are unlikely to be sold. Do I simply put them in storage? Remove them from the boxes so people can buy the specific ones they missed? I feel that may be unfair to those who donated so much sight unseen. There is no need to donate these surplus as the sets for the children have already been done.

If anyone might read this I would surely welcome any advice.

Written By Piccola

June 21, 2021, 10:31 p.m.(9/13/1015 AR)

A wise general once warned me:

"The Gods often allow those persons whom they wish to punish for their guilt a greater prosperity and longer impunity so that they may suffer the more severely from a reverse of circumstances."

Beware, then conspicuous fortune, and be sure to always pay homage to the Gods.

Written By Zakhar

June 21, 2021, 9:59 p.m.(9/13/1015 AR)

They never choose the option to have breakfast. Always with the stabbings. Well, I've yer ears now.

Written By Savio

June 21, 2021, 7:32 p.m.(9/13/1015 AR)

Relationship Note on Mabelle

Not so long ago you told me you didn't understand poetry. On the contrary, I would say you understand it quite completely.

Written By Mabelle

June 21, 2021, noon(9/13/1015 AR)

Blood is thicker than wine,
Honey is thicker than both,
You have betrayed me, my darling
You’ve broken your oath.

Blood is darker than wine,
Honey so gold it glows,
You made me choose between us,
Well it was me I chose.

Blood is thicker than wine,
Honey is sweeter however,
You sailed away from me,
You promised me forever.

Blood swivels in my wine,
Honey swivels in my tea,
You whispered ‘wife’ when we made love,
It wasn't meant for me.

Blood as red as wine,
Honey like the sun,
You own my soul for centuries,
You’ll never let me run.

Blood as dark as my coffee,
Honey sweetens my cake,
I gave you my heart, my love.
You best not let it break.

Written By Insaya

June 21, 2021, 12:02 a.m.(9/12/1015 AR)

<A sketch of three scenes within decorative borders, neatly labeled in base: Nine of Cups, Ace of Swords, the Hierophant. A fourth image is drawn below near the base of the page and labeled with an arrow: the Page of Trefoils.>

I have been thinking that I might like to leave my current lodgings. The Valardin ward has been good to me, but I wonder if it would not be better to be an Inquisitor in residence at the House of Questions. There are many new faces, and sometimes it is helpful to have others about as a sounding board in the bitter watches of the night. It's a good time to start laying foundations for ambitions.

Written By Quenia

June 20, 2021, 10:42 p.m.(9/11/1015 AR)

Dreams. . . can be odd. Sure, you have your typically nightmare. Or, the occasional oddity in a normal dream. But, never had I one like I had a month or so ago. It sits with me. Heavy. Ominous. Lingering.

Yet, some good things have come of it so far. So, maybe there's some good fortune in that? It's hard to say. The adventure isn't yet over. With luck, perhaps that adventure will lead to something useful.

Until then, that's all I can say about such things. At least, this such thing. But, it's good to finally get answers about a particular topic, so I'm not left always wondering like I am about most of the dreams I've experienced.

I think I will, perhaps, rest easier than I ever have in a long time, after so much worrying over a few of them where a shadowed figure had been whispering sweet nothings into my ear about plans and gifts and then I'd awake with a start. It's been since the Eclipse ball that such a thing has happened.

Simple imaginings of the mind have a way of playing tricks on you. That's assuredly all it was, a trick. I'm sure of it.

Written By Quenia

June 20, 2021, 10:33 p.m.(9/11/1015 AR)

Things are afoot. Soon some family, friends, and I will be traveling to Granato to see if there's anything new we can dig into and find out about our family history. It's fairly exciting, since most of the annals about House Igniseri are nearly non-existant. We know a few things already, from the Sylv'alfar War, but I hope we can find something deeper than that. Does Igniseri have ties that go as far back as the Recking? I guess we'll see what we uncover.

Written By Lou

June 20, 2021, 10:28 p.m.(9/11/1015 AR)

I feel as though I am really bad at this journaling duty. I haven't written in months, and not for lack of writing, just for lack of /time/ to write things.

There's been a bevy of things going on. Plots and machinations galore. Some mine, some others, some darker.

Things are moving at a slow pace, which I'm fine with. Some are impatient. There's also been a sharing of information. I should really get this all down in one section or other other soon, in case I ever need to go back and get context on just why I wrote.

Also, I am looking for the next exploration project to get into. You didn't seriously think I'd stop with Brightshore, did you? There's so many new places out there left to explore, and I've been told there's a new ship on the horizon! How exciting.

But, for now, I'd just be happy if I could find more information on the topic I'm investigating. If I hear Willen asking me one more time if I found anything new, I might throw something at him. It's been months. This is certainly the longest I've gone in searching for information.

Written By Eddard

June 20, 2021, 9:51 p.m.(9/11/1015 AR)

Relationship Note on Nina

I saw a very interesting instrument this week. Controlled by feet and hands but powered through air and water. This is not a small instrument, its a hydraulus. The temperature of the water varies the pitch and tone dramatically so depending on the weather a song could sound different every time.

Its fitting for a city like Arx. Where its impossible to stay the same person day to day.

Written By Apollo

June 20, 2021, 9:49 p.m.(9/11/1015 AR)

Calm, small heart. Such distance come from the darkest day;
arms around more present, your gift the comfort of a friend.
You wake, and wake, and waking is an end;
the sun will rise, and you will make your way.

Written By Isabeau

June 20, 2021, 9:18 p.m.(9/11/1015 AR)

Thank everyone who attended or donated to the Heart in Hand's latest event. Big things are coming, but congratulations to Countess Aella for winning the raffle! Granted... she did buy a third of the tickets.

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