Written By Coraline
June 30, 2018, 12:15 a.m.(2/9/1009 AR)
I wear pants, they have pockets, this has always made me exceedingly happy. But I am thrilled those who wear dresses might soon enjoy the freedom of pockets as well.
Written By Margret
June 29, 2018, 11:47 p.m.(2/9/1009 AR)
Alas, I missed the dresses with pockets. I was going to stuff all of the bandages in them, too.
Written By Edward
June 29, 2018, 11:21 p.m.(2/9/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Niklas
I look forward to the day when the world is introduced to your child, Griddlecakes Grayson.
Written By Elloise
June 29, 2018, 10:37 p.m.(2/9/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Kenna
Nirav doesn't talk too much. But he came by with a note - yes, he keeps an eye out for Journals that mention pockets for REASONS, okay? So don't worry, not all is woe-gotten. Pockets will be in route very soon. VERY SOON.
Written By Kenna
June 29, 2018, 10:37 p.m.(2/9/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Oliver
Master Oliver Coldrain is AMAZING.
I bemoaned missing his sale but he found one that was just PERFECT for me and he is so so so amazing!!
!!! AND NOW I HAVE ANOTHER ONE.
A CREAM AND A PINK ONE.
Oh my gosh I know EXACTLY who will look amazing in this cream one!
(yes, Agatha's big words are appropriate!)
I bemoaned missing his sale but he found one that was just PERFECT for me and he is so so so amazing!!
!!! AND NOW I HAVE ANOTHER ONE.
A CREAM AND A PINK ONE.
Oh my gosh I know EXACTLY who will look amazing in this cream one!
(yes, Agatha's big words are appropriate!)
Written By Kenna
June 29, 2018, 10:11 p.m.(2/9/1009 AR)
I went to go buy a dress with pockets.
They were already gone before I could get there.
Woe.
They were already gone before I could get there.
Woe.
Written By Elloise
June 29, 2018, 10:07 p.m.(2/9/1009 AR)
I didn't know that someone could be so beautiful that it would hurt to look at them. It did. She was like a statue, with the night-sky in her hair (or her eyes -- I was too nervous to look) but there was little bird. I drew it. It sang and clicked and fluttered and ticked. It was even more beautiful than the lady, but it didn't hurt to look at. I wasn't nervous. I drew it. I think -- I think I know how to fix my Ferdinand now. He won't be the same. But, maybe I can learn.
Written By Elloise
June 29, 2018, 10:04 p.m.(2/9/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Oliver
To the super-smart tailor that made Dresses With Pockets -- thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank. You. Once I figure out a thing to make to properly show how happy I am, my thankfulness will need to do.
Written By Thena
June 29, 2018, 8:44 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Coraline
You will make a fine knight.
Written By Oliver
June 29, 2018, 8:39 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
My father used to tell me many stories. I was a young man when our tribe bent the knee to Darkwater, and I spent far too many of my years paying off a debt incurred for broken promises, but I remember a few things here and there, tales passed down from one generation to the next, though the tales have ended with me. I suppose I'll write one of those tales here, as I've not seen much written of my tribe, and I am the only one remaining of what was once my family.
My favorite story had always been about how my father took my mother to be his bride. My family was of no particular importance; my father was not a chieftan or anyone of notable status. My father, like his father and grandfather and great-grandfather before him, had been a simple man. A warrior. He had little to his name - a place to call home, a few horses, his weapons and his armor, but little else - but it had been good enough for him. Until he met my mother. Returning from a raid, bruised and bloodied, he'd seen her washing laundry down by a small river. I don't recall my mother being of any significant beauty, but I remember clearly how my father would speak of her, as though she were the most magnificent thing in the world. He was a bit of a romantic, my father. I suppose that is one trait he handed down to me.
And when he saw her - my mother, a simple laundress, a caretaker for the warriors in her home - he knew that he had everything a man could want except for her. He set off to woo her, but for whatever reason she had paid him no mind, and I think it only made him want to wed her that much more. One day, he'd gone down to the river while she was washing her piles of clothes, and he attempted to lend a hand. She'd gotten annoyed by the assistance, she was fiercely independent, and when she tried to tug one of the bed sheets he'd grabbed out of his hand, he fell with the momentum and sprained his sword arm. I think perhaps she'd felt bad for him, maybe a little guilty, but from that day, they were inseparable.
It was tradition in my tribe that when one person desired to wed another, they would receive a blessing from the tribe Shaman and then stand vigil at the family home of their intended. They would bring a gift for the family and a gift for their desired, and they would wait outside in whatever weather until they were invited in, and then they would be wed. It usually only took a few hours, no more than a day. My father chose the evening of a storm to begin his vigil for my mother. He received the blessings he needed and stood outside in the rain and the wind and the lightning, and took no food or drink as was custom.
She made him wait three days.
It always used to make me laugh when he told me this story, trying to imagine my father - who was as tall as I am now, and as broad as a mountain - standing outside, soaking wet, hungry and thirsty, waiting for my mother to let him in the house, and somehow remaining incredibly patient.
I was eleven when my mother passed from a horrific illness that plagued her for months before it finally took her life. I was twelve when my father, who was far too prideful to bend the knee, was killed in front of me. I did not laugh about this story for years. In fact, I did my best to put the memory of this tale aside, and never think of it again. But today? Perhaps it is because I am older, perhaps it is because I finally know something that my father knew for years. Today, I am thinking about this story again.. and I am finally able to laugh once more.
My favorite story had always been about how my father took my mother to be his bride. My family was of no particular importance; my father was not a chieftan or anyone of notable status. My father, like his father and grandfather and great-grandfather before him, had been a simple man. A warrior. He had little to his name - a place to call home, a few horses, his weapons and his armor, but little else - but it had been good enough for him. Until he met my mother. Returning from a raid, bruised and bloodied, he'd seen her washing laundry down by a small river. I don't recall my mother being of any significant beauty, but I remember clearly how my father would speak of her, as though she were the most magnificent thing in the world. He was a bit of a romantic, my father. I suppose that is one trait he handed down to me.
And when he saw her - my mother, a simple laundress, a caretaker for the warriors in her home - he knew that he had everything a man could want except for her. He set off to woo her, but for whatever reason she had paid him no mind, and I think it only made him want to wed her that much more. One day, he'd gone down to the river while she was washing her piles of clothes, and he attempted to lend a hand. She'd gotten annoyed by the assistance, she was fiercely independent, and when she tried to tug one of the bed sheets he'd grabbed out of his hand, he fell with the momentum and sprained his sword arm. I think perhaps she'd felt bad for him, maybe a little guilty, but from that day, they were inseparable.
It was tradition in my tribe that when one person desired to wed another, they would receive a blessing from the tribe Shaman and then stand vigil at the family home of their intended. They would bring a gift for the family and a gift for their desired, and they would wait outside in whatever weather until they were invited in, and then they would be wed. It usually only took a few hours, no more than a day. My father chose the evening of a storm to begin his vigil for my mother. He received the blessings he needed and stood outside in the rain and the wind and the lightning, and took no food or drink as was custom.
She made him wait three days.
It always used to make me laugh when he told me this story, trying to imagine my father - who was as tall as I am now, and as broad as a mountain - standing outside, soaking wet, hungry and thirsty, waiting for my mother to let him in the house, and somehow remaining incredibly patient.
I was eleven when my mother passed from a horrific illness that plagued her for months before it finally took her life. I was twelve when my father, who was far too prideful to bend the knee, was killed in front of me. I did not laugh about this story for years. In fact, I did my best to put the memory of this tale aside, and never think of it again. But today? Perhaps it is because I am older, perhaps it is because I finally know something that my father knew for years. Today, I am thinking about this story again.. and I am finally able to laugh once more.
Written By Coraline
June 29, 2018, 8:15 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
A night of contemplation has become a night of cleaning and contemplation. I couldn't imagine a more proper way to consider the virtues than by doing so serving the gods and their shrines.
Every journey is an adventure, I am excited to see what the next step will bring.
Every journey is an adventure, I am excited to see what the next step will bring.
Written By Saoirse
June 29, 2018, 7:19 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
Prince Beaumont graciously lent me his cloak to stave off some of the cold -- I hope my family will forgive me for wearing Valardin colors for a while.
Written By Karadoc
June 29, 2018, 6:59 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Lucita
My Lady -- my aide, Coral, woke me from the mid-afternoon, post-lunch, pre-nap nap in order to inform me that you wrote kindly about me in the Whites. Certainly, Baroness-Regent, I have a litany of positive traits (which, you know, I COULD highlight in great detail) that could be complimented upon. But this? This success? This expansion? This is all you. My liege-lady Baroness Lucita Saik. I'm just the lucky jerk that gets to come along for the ride and support you as needed. For that, sure. It's my honor. Least I could do.
If I did less -- well, I'd hear it.
If I did less -- well, I'd hear it.
Written By Joscelin
June 29, 2018, 5:25 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
Ianthe, you're out there somewhere laughing at me, I know it.
Written By Joscelin
June 29, 2018, 4:59 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
I'm sitting in the Ambassador's Salon having a nice, lovely breakfast with Lord Grady, when a familiar messenger walks in and puts a bucket in my lap, and then promptly -runs away-.
When I asked for a live octopus, receiving it while dining with nobility and wearing a gorgeously made silk dress is -not- how I anticipated it. Thankfully, Lord Grady only laughed at me when I started laughing at myself, and with some help from the serving staff, I managed to make the octopus a little more comfortable and got it back to my shop without fuss.
I keep talking to it, reassuring it that I will put it back in the sea, I swear it, I just want to look at him for a while. Currently, he's in this very, very large glass bowl I procured for just this reason. He has space to flit around, I put some rocks from the tide-pools in there with him. I mean, is there anything else I can do to make him more comfortable? I'll only have him for a day.
Mongoose is entertained by him when he flits about his bowl. She barks sometimes at him too.
When I asked for a live octopus, receiving it while dining with nobility and wearing a gorgeously made silk dress is -not- how I anticipated it. Thankfully, Lord Grady only laughed at me when I started laughing at myself, and with some help from the serving staff, I managed to make the octopus a little more comfortable and got it back to my shop without fuss.
I keep talking to it, reassuring it that I will put it back in the sea, I swear it, I just want to look at him for a while. Currently, he's in this very, very large glass bowl I procured for just this reason. He has space to flit around, I put some rocks from the tide-pools in there with him. I mean, is there anything else I can do to make him more comfortable? I'll only have him for a day.
Mongoose is entertained by him when he flits about his bowl. She barks sometimes at him too.
Written By Coraline
June 29, 2018, 4:52 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
It isn't often I have stood on the precipice of a major change in life, knowing how monumentally that life will alter with the simple passage of hours. I am on such a precipice now. But this change feels larger than any I have yet experienced and it feels important for me to contemplate the aspects of what it is comprised of.
I have spoken to many on the meaning of Knighthood, on what it is to not just wear the title but live it's meaning. The answers differed in many ways, but some core things remained the same. Service, Honor, Duty, Faith, Hope, Courage, Strength, Mercy, Justice, and Fidelity. One, but often more, were mentioned in each conversation. To dedicate one's life to living these virtues is a big step, vows should never be given lightly, not ever. For we are our word, and words given in the form of vows are like giving a piece of ourselves to a purpose, a cause greater than ourselves. I truly believe any vow should be to something greater than oneself, anything less and it lessens both the the one giving the vow and the one receiving it.
Then I turn to contemplating service, humility, and generosity. These are all things that feel as though they should be obvious. Kindness and compassion in any situation and with any person, regardless of who they are or where they come from. This also feels as though it should be obvious. And yet the true test comes in little ways, in little things. An ill chosen word or action, a thoughtless thing said in haste or raised emotion. All small tests, yet all so very important for we should never stop testing ourselves, as life tests us. To do otherwise feels like we aren't really living, merely stepping moment to moment, surprised that so much has changed when we weren't looking and wondering why we ourselves have not.
It also seems important to see outside of ourselves to the needs of our fellows. I don't just mean charity, which is very important and necessary and should be given to as a matter of course. I mean more than that. The stranger you see upset, they might not tell you what is wrong, but offering to buy them a drink and give a bit of cheerful or quiet companionship. Or the friend who you might have had cross words with but who is now hurting, to set aside one's own upset to help them for no other reason than they hurt. Service need not be grand gestures, sometimes the little ones make the most difference.
Another thing that occurs to me is courage. Battle can be exhilarating, terrifying, and heart rending. But battle, war itself, for all the fear of dying you might face, for all the loss you experience, it is not the only form of courage necessary. For courage is facing what you fear not the absence of fear. I fear many things, and I am honest enough to say it. But I have come to realize that I must face them, no matter how silly they might seem to myself or others, no matter how small. They must be faced, because to do otherwise does a disservice to myself as well as a disservice to those I serve. Random thought perhaps but it felt important to say today of all days.
I suppose this journal, most especially because it is public, is a form of testing myself. So tonight, as I go from shrine to shrine to pray and contemplate a virtue in each, spending the night discovering the knight who will be made on the morrow, I will strip away everything else.
I have spoken to many on the meaning of Knighthood, on what it is to not just wear the title but live it's meaning. The answers differed in many ways, but some core things remained the same. Service, Honor, Duty, Faith, Hope, Courage, Strength, Mercy, Justice, and Fidelity. One, but often more, were mentioned in each conversation. To dedicate one's life to living these virtues is a big step, vows should never be given lightly, not ever. For we are our word, and words given in the form of vows are like giving a piece of ourselves to a purpose, a cause greater than ourselves. I truly believe any vow should be to something greater than oneself, anything less and it lessens both the the one giving the vow and the one receiving it.
Then I turn to contemplating service, humility, and generosity. These are all things that feel as though they should be obvious. Kindness and compassion in any situation and with any person, regardless of who they are or where they come from. This also feels as though it should be obvious. And yet the true test comes in little ways, in little things. An ill chosen word or action, a thoughtless thing said in haste or raised emotion. All small tests, yet all so very important for we should never stop testing ourselves, as life tests us. To do otherwise feels like we aren't really living, merely stepping moment to moment, surprised that so much has changed when we weren't looking and wondering why we ourselves have not.
It also seems important to see outside of ourselves to the needs of our fellows. I don't just mean charity, which is very important and necessary and should be given to as a matter of course. I mean more than that. The stranger you see upset, they might not tell you what is wrong, but offering to buy them a drink and give a bit of cheerful or quiet companionship. Or the friend who you might have had cross words with but who is now hurting, to set aside one's own upset to help them for no other reason than they hurt. Service need not be grand gestures, sometimes the little ones make the most difference.
Another thing that occurs to me is courage. Battle can be exhilarating, terrifying, and heart rending. But battle, war itself, for all the fear of dying you might face, for all the loss you experience, it is not the only form of courage necessary. For courage is facing what you fear not the absence of fear. I fear many things, and I am honest enough to say it. But I have come to realize that I must face them, no matter how silly they might seem to myself or others, no matter how small. They must be faced, because to do otherwise does a disservice to myself as well as a disservice to those I serve. Random thought perhaps but it felt important to say today of all days.
I suppose this journal, most especially because it is public, is a form of testing myself. So tonight, as I go from shrine to shrine to pray and contemplate a virtue in each, spending the night discovering the knight who will be made on the morrow, I will strip away everything else.
Written By Emmelline
June 29, 2018, 3:31 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Barric
Saw Princess Coraline and Prince Barric a few days ago at the winter festival. The festival was very good, with all sorts of different games. I did so enjoy cheering them both on during the snowball wars, though it was rather hard, since they opted to be on separate teams. All in all though, it was a very fun outing.
Written By Shae
June 29, 2018, 3:02 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
Gardener Dave! No!
Written By Norwood
June 29, 2018, 2:44 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
Gardener Dave did not deserve to die in such a manner.
Written By Victus
June 29, 2018, 2:05 p.m.(2/8/1009 AR)
The names I've received for a dog thus far are as follows,
*Whatsavictus
*Vicious
*Mortimer
*Woofers
*You
*Dog
*Wolf
*Come
*Roo
*Sir Fluffy McFluffinston IV
Results are as expected.
*Whatsavictus
*Vicious
*Mortimer
*Woofers
*You
*Dog
*Wolf
*Come
*Roo
*Sir Fluffy McFluffinston IV
Results are as expected.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.