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Written By Eos

Dec. 2, 2016, 1:40 p.m.(4/11/1005 AR)

The trouble with holding the secrets we all hold is that they will always find their way to the light, whatever the motivation behind holding them. It may take years, decades, generations, but they will always be discovered. The secrets of men - I don't believe they can stand up to generations. For most, their secrets will be learned all too soon and their motivations put to question.

It's the motivation, the agenda, afterall that man fears. The secret is only a thing made unknown, a happening, a truth, a fact of life. The reasons another has found it so important as to hide it is what fractures trust and strains our ties. Some may be honorable - fear or out of concern for another, to see some great task done - but man is meant to survive, and can not do that by seeing the best in every strange thing around him. Man will see the suspect first, the thing which might harm him.

Those who cleave to secrets must weigh the value of them against the inevitable consequence as those secrets come to light, and their motivations put to question. Playing victim when those consequences call, foisting the wrong upon others, lying to even oneself about the why, trying to cast a self-serving agenda as a noble one...It is a weak and pitiful thing.

Written By Cybele

Dec. 2, 2016, 12:22 p.m.(4/11/1005 AR)

I have spoken to Sister Sophie Valardin on the nature of Lagoma. It was enlightening. And I taught Sister Sophie a few excercises to center herself.


Lagoma is an intriguing god. If I were to worship like the Southerners do, I expect I should swear myself to her. Thankfully, that is not a necessity to be counted among the Faith of the Pantheon - it appears many worship all of them?

Still, as lady of liminality, as the harbinger of change and growth, granter of peace and mercy...

I can't help but feel like there are similarities to my own path.

Written By Natalia

Dec. 2, 2016, 6:22 a.m.(4/10/1005 AR)

Fuck.

Nothing more, that pretty much explains it all.

Written By Cara

Dec. 2, 2016, 2:55 a.m.(4/10/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Harlan

Perhaps I should not be so reassured by Lord Harlan's return to the city, but I must say that it is something of a relief to share some of the concerns of the day with him. He will be a good Duke some day, though if the gods are kind, it will not be for some time.

Written By Damon

Dec. 2, 2016, 2:21 a.m.(4/10/1005 AR)

Have I lost my charming qualities? I feel that I don't smile near as often as I did even a week or two ago.

What's changed? Is it me? Circumstance?

Perhaps I'll never know, and I'm just stuck like this.

Written By Max

Dec. 2, 2016, 1:56 a.m.(4/10/1005 AR)

We make our own wind. When the sky provides it not, with the toil of our back, we put oars to water and tell the weather to fuck off.


Luck is the consequence of consistent action with proper planning.

Written By Bethany

Dec. 1, 2016, 10:22 p.m.(4/9/1005 AR)

Done and dealt with.

Now, I await a reply on tenterhooks. Metaphorically, mind. Not literal.

(My elder brother is a such an enabling --

err, pardon

--encouraging force of good.)

Written By Kima

Dec. 1, 2016, 10:20 p.m.(4/9/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Costas

Costas is my newest student. He bemoans my ruinous rates, but as another so astutely pointed out, he won't bemoan my teaching him how best to keep his innards within his abdomen. He also kept referring to his face as a slab, or leather, which I disagree with. If he were that bland, or worse, hideous, I'd not readily associate with him outside of our lessons.

Why, Scholar, do you arch your brow at me?

He's an interesting chap, one I'm more than glad has been scooped up by the Malvici. Now, he may or may not feel the same about that currently, but I'll turn him into a lover of Southport and its ruling family in time.

And I'll do that for free.

Written By Kima

Dec. 1, 2016, 10:13 p.m.(4/9/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Leola

Leola is a good lass.

Helpful, dutiful, obedient. Needs a bit of a lesson in expressing herself, though. Now, I'm not accusing her of being without spine. Quite the opposite, in fact! Yet I find it rather strange that she should have that deep well of courage, draw from it, and still be unable to speak without sounding...

Well, sounding timid.

Unless she's just exceptionally skilled at deception. Not an impossibility, given that she is of the Lyceum.

Written By Serafine

Dec. 1, 2016, 8:45 p.m.(4/9/1005 AR)

The Concodral Melee is tomorrow! Given the joy I had with the previous competition, I'm excited to sign up for this one. The rules are unusual enough and perhaps I'll learn a thing or two.

Written By Isolde

Dec. 1, 2016, 8:15 p.m.(4/9/1005 AR)

I -do- so love it when a plan comes together.

Written By Bethany

Dec. 1, 2016, 7:46 p.m.(4/9/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Lazarus

Clever Pater Familias

Written By Bethany

Dec. 1, 2016, 7:45 p.m.(4/9/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Silas

Popular Older Brother

Written By Cybele

Dec. 1, 2016, 7:27 p.m.(4/9/1005 AR)

I am to learn the religious practices of the Southerners. They write in journals, and the pages are bound in books with their name - the white journals a public record. The Black Journals for secrets of the soul.

We have similar rites in the Everwinter - where anyone may leave their mark in stone or wood. And there are sacred sites with hidden learning.

We do not have so many rows of scrolls and books, however. It is a little overwhelming.

Hello, nations of Arvum. I am Cybele. I hope my writings will prove of use to some.

Written By Bethany

Dec. 1, 2016, 4:16 p.m.(4/8/1005 AR)

Mother --

(I don't think there is any need to address my entries. However, this is my journal to do with as I wish)

I peeked into the Vellichorian Academy today. Briefly, yet. It reminds me of you. While I thank your foresight into seeing to my education and paying so much attention to me (nurturing me in ways that the gardener sees to the garden) it does make me wish for things I ought not.

While math is a truly elegant study: numbers and equations with predictable relationships. Languages, music, and books. All rather safe outlets for an curious mind ... and yet.

(I wish to know everything.)

It would have been easier, perhaps, if I had been kept an an ignorant and pretty thing (daffodils and cornflower) with empty blue eyes and a smile that reveals nothing between my ears. Aim for nothing more than to be on the arm of a merchant husband, raise children, and run a shop until my dying days.

A simple life, certainly, but one that I could live without the desire to be ... more ... beating about my chest to the thrum of my heart like angry birds.

(Ach. That was purple prose, Beth. Terrible.)

Written By Eirene

Dec. 1, 2016, 4:12 p.m.(4/8/1005 AR)

So it's poetry you all want, eh?

There once was a girl from Setarco
Who could take six or seven in one go
Hand over your coin--


Actually I can't finish this. I'm too refined a lady to actually tell you the rest, Archivist. Sorry.

Written By Serafine

Dec. 1, 2016, 1 p.m.(4/8/1005 AR)

Gods save me. More bloody poets.

Written By Leona

Dec. 1, 2016, 12:56 p.m.(4/8/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Leola

I will be taking archery lessons on occasion from Leola Allenatore - whom is an animal trainer for the Saik Lord, and seems a capable teacher who could could with a little more confidence in herself, I think.

(Personal opinions aside: the more skills that I have at my disposal, the better.)

Before doing so, I need to acquire a bow...

Written By Leona

Dec. 1, 2016, 12:44 p.m.(4/8/1005 AR)

I never would have expected to be sitting behind the desk where the former Lord Commander Dayne Valardin once sat. It seemed a strong likelihood that I would have followed in his wake ...

Not like this. Not in such a way.

It feels so ...

I feel so ...

... never the mind. I cannot express my emotions in any kind of coherent way without sounding like a child. Honor, strength, determination, loyalty. Those are concrete, immovable concepts that I can focus on.

I live to serve. I'll die to serve, if it comes to that.

Written By Eleyna

Dec. 1, 2016, 12:28 p.m.(4/8/1005 AR)

Oh, look. More poets.

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