Written By Arn
Jan. 27, 2018, 11:29 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Went to this wedding reception and almost everyone left. I still got it.
Written By Orathy
Jan. 27, 2018, 11:05 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Reckon I will be Orathy Culler and stomp on all your flowers.
Boot. Heel. To. ALL. YOUR. FLOWERS.
Pansy asses. HAH.
Boot. Heel. To. ALL. YOUR. FLOWERS.
Pansy asses. HAH.
Written By Margerie
Jan. 27, 2018, 10:40 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
My time in Arx has taught me so much in so short a time. Tonight's lesson is joy, and the strange way joy and the past can entwine to create an emotion I cannot quite put a word to. The awareness of the vast gulf between joy and the parts of light that seem so empty of it. Is there a word for the keen awareness of that space?
Written By Donaldo
Jan. 27, 2018, 10:28 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Oh, I should add as well...
I am a coffee cherry flower. Easily.
I am a coffee cherry flower. Easily.
Written By Caspian
Jan. 27, 2018, 9:54 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Donella
You have given me a kindness that I could never repay in a thousand years. If it were not for you, I would be shackled in virtual slavery. Everything I am, everything I achieve, all started with you and freeing me from Thralldom. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I hope someday I can at least try to pay you back for what you've done.
I hope someday I can at least try to pay you back for what you've done.
Written By Caspian
Jan. 27, 2018, 9:50 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Monique
I still have Nature's Fury. I thought of selling it, but it's a beautiful dagger, and it was a gift from you. I treasure it too much to sell. I hope to some day give it to a new duelist who is down on his luck, like you did for me.
Written By Donaldo
Jan. 27, 2018, 9:50 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
I was asked about the white journals and what I thought. I began to explain my thoughts on the practice in general.
They stopped me and asked about specific whites and flowers.
A great tragedy to compare our women to flowers, yet they compare themselves. Stars seems to be a fair comparison and that is allowed but I do not know why.
These are the luxuries we enjoy in the city. No one cares what they are called or compared to when we huddle for warmth in a mountain pass or sharing rations at sea.
I hope I am never so long in civilization that I begin to worry so much about things that do not matter.
They stopped me and asked about specific whites and flowers.
A great tragedy to compare our women to flowers, yet they compare themselves. Stars seems to be a fair comparison and that is allowed but I do not know why.
These are the luxuries we enjoy in the city. No one cares what they are called or compared to when we huddle for warmth in a mountain pass or sharing rations at sea.
I hope I am never so long in civilization that I begin to worry so much about things that do not matter.
Written By Cassima
Jan. 27, 2018, 9:36 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Cirroch
I'll drink to that, cousin mine.
Written By Naomi
Jan. 27, 2018, 8:47 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Arrived in Arx today. Ford sent a ridiculous overgrown wagon and a fussy little man who almost cried when I didn't let him hand me into the carriage like some pampered princess.
Ridiculous.
Had some excellent chicken on a skewer from a street vendor, and fresh bread. You miss those things at sea, when it's fish, fish, and more fish.
Set up at the Kay. Why the hell do we decorate with so much white? If we ever have an intruder the bloodstains are going to be a bitch to wash out.
Speaking of intruders, I need to hire more House Guards. This house has more holes than a fisherman's net- two entrances and a balcony. Idiocy.
That chicken really was excellent.
Ridiculous.
Had some excellent chicken on a skewer from a street vendor, and fresh bread. You miss those things at sea, when it's fish, fish, and more fish.
Set up at the Kay. Why the hell do we decorate with so much white? If we ever have an intruder the bloodstains are going to be a bitch to wash out.
Speaking of intruders, I need to hire more House Guards. This house has more holes than a fisherman's net- two entrances and a balcony. Idiocy.
That chicken really was excellent.
Written By Serafine
Jan. 27, 2018, 8:32 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
I saw the little bugger again today. A boy, dirtiest blonde hair I've ever seen, scampering under the a cart in the lowers with a -sack- full of stolen food. Now, I usually leave such as this alone, ain't none of my business as Leta would say, but he took all of this from a food merchant who's entire livelihood is selling her wares and shit has been tight. Don't need to tell you that, do I, scholar?
So I gave chase. He took me through some of the darker alleys in the Lowers; the Cullers have people around those parts and most know me, I think the brat expected them to give me a fuss. The Lowers is my route, he can't know this, but I suspect the whole 'nobleman' thing was all he considered. The frustration on his darlin' little face was worth the jog. Anyway, I caught up to him while he was running behind the Crown Apartments, snagged his ankle before he managed to squirm through a tunnel, a sewer duct? that was more frozen than he expected.
He howled like an alley cat the whole way, lad slung over my shoulder. He tried to bite me. I bit him back.
The food merchant was in tears. I put the boy on his feet in front of her and let her scream at him. The lad shrank a good foot into himself. He mumbled an apology without prompting. The merchant (Tabitha, I think that's her name) wiped her face and held out her hand. He hesitated until I growled, forked over the sack of food. She looked through it, counted, then looked up at me and quoted the price. I nodded. I gave her the coin, she gave him the sack.
Little bastard sat, frozen, for a good minute until she mimed throwing a stone at him (she wasn't, though it's been a stressful winter for everyone). He scampered off.
Coming home tonight, my walk to the Uppers is usually a quiet one; daresay most everyone is used to me by now, even after my disappearing act this fall. My doorstep has its own lantern, and tucked into the doormat was a little paper flower. Dirty, mind, but prettily-made. It was dark; I looked around, didn't see anyone, but I'm certain I heard rapid footsteps in the distance.
Kids.
So I gave chase. He took me through some of the darker alleys in the Lowers; the Cullers have people around those parts and most know me, I think the brat expected them to give me a fuss. The Lowers is my route, he can't know this, but I suspect the whole 'nobleman' thing was all he considered. The frustration on his darlin' little face was worth the jog. Anyway, I caught up to him while he was running behind the Crown Apartments, snagged his ankle before he managed to squirm through a tunnel, a sewer duct? that was more frozen than he expected.
He howled like an alley cat the whole way, lad slung over my shoulder. He tried to bite me. I bit him back.
The food merchant was in tears. I put the boy on his feet in front of her and let her scream at him. The lad shrank a good foot into himself. He mumbled an apology without prompting. The merchant (Tabitha, I think that's her name) wiped her face and held out her hand. He hesitated until I growled, forked over the sack of food. She looked through it, counted, then looked up at me and quoted the price. I nodded. I gave her the coin, she gave him the sack.
Little bastard sat, frozen, for a good minute until she mimed throwing a stone at him (she wasn't, though it's been a stressful winter for everyone). He scampered off.
Coming home tonight, my walk to the Uppers is usually a quiet one; daresay most everyone is used to me by now, even after my disappearing act this fall. My doorstep has its own lantern, and tucked into the doormat was a little paper flower. Dirty, mind, but prettily-made. It was dark; I looked around, didn't see anyone, but I'm certain I heard rapid footsteps in the distance.
Kids.
Written By Joscelin
Jan. 27, 2018, 8:21 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
I found a bottle of some fantastic spirits in the cupboard of my home while staving off a bout of artist's block. I clean when I'm uninspired, so usually, everything in my home is covered in dust; I'm fortunate that way.
The last few days have been unusual. Cleaning consists of pulling everything out of my various storage places in my home. The kitchen cupboards haven't been gone through in a while. Months, even.
I found a bottle Oliver left behind. It smelled amazing. Thus, this is why I'm drunk at the moment. Really drunk. The scholar transcribing this has commented several times that most drunken entries require some kind of translator; I'm one of the few, she says, that enunciates better the more I drink. I think this is a compliment.
I find it funny, that for as often as I make love tokens and charms, gifts between beloveds both secret and public, betrothal gifts, engagement jewelry, I myself am so damn unlucky in love. I think this is why I devote so much of my work to the Guild; it's ever rewarding, I know they care for me (most of them, anyway, and for the others that don't, I know they at least respect me), and I know, as long as I remain in the post, they look to me when they need help.
But there are times when I close my shop at night and look out into my garden, who's briers are bare and black, dormant flowers hidden by snow and frozen soil, and wish I weren't so good at sleeping alone, being alone, and living alone. My attempts to change this are never successful.
I know. I'm feeling sorry for myself. We all have days like that, don't we? Tomorrow, I will be better, and things will go on and I'll laugh at myself and the writings I've left behind.
I think I'm done, scholar. Can you send this? I think I need an escort home. While you say I enunciate better the more I drink, walking is a different matter.
The last few days have been unusual. Cleaning consists of pulling everything out of my various storage places in my home. The kitchen cupboards haven't been gone through in a while. Months, even.
I found a bottle Oliver left behind. It smelled amazing. Thus, this is why I'm drunk at the moment. Really drunk. The scholar transcribing this has commented several times that most drunken entries require some kind of translator; I'm one of the few, she says, that enunciates better the more I drink. I think this is a compliment.
I find it funny, that for as often as I make love tokens and charms, gifts between beloveds both secret and public, betrothal gifts, engagement jewelry, I myself am so damn unlucky in love. I think this is why I devote so much of my work to the Guild; it's ever rewarding, I know they care for me (most of them, anyway, and for the others that don't, I know they at least respect me), and I know, as long as I remain in the post, they look to me when they need help.
But there are times when I close my shop at night and look out into my garden, who's briers are bare and black, dormant flowers hidden by snow and frozen soil, and wish I weren't so good at sleeping alone, being alone, and living alone. My attempts to change this are never successful.
I know. I'm feeling sorry for myself. We all have days like that, don't we? Tomorrow, I will be better, and things will go on and I'll laugh at myself and the writings I've left behind.
I think I'm done, scholar. Can you send this? I think I need an escort home. While you say I enunciate better the more I drink, walking is a different matter.
Written By Norwood
Jan. 27, 2018, 7:24 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
It is strange how warm things can become even when the weather is chilled.
Written By Monique
Jan. 27, 2018, 7:10 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Nightshade? Hemlock? Oleander?
Written By Mayir
Jan. 27, 2018, 7:09 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Lottie
You should go to Lottie's Place! She's got cakes! She's got pies! She's got chewy, gooey chocolate-chip cookies that are to die for! And she has the fancy cloth napkins!
I offered to help her prepare her Grand Opening Event! I mean, I am the Director of Marketing for Highway Robbery, don't get me wrong. But I think there are synergies we can exploit!
I offered to help her prepare her Grand Opening Event! I mean, I am the Director of Marketing for Highway Robbery, don't get me wrong. But I think there are synergies we can exploit!
Written By Percephon
Jan. 27, 2018, 6:12 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
No, no -- providing clarification. Please, see your entry on Mae.
If you were a flower, Joscelin, you would be the one that blooms practically in any season. Like a chrysanthemum. Thankfully, you (and everyone else) is much more complicated and diverse to be compared to a single type of flowering plant.
If you were a flower, Joscelin, you would be the one that blooms practically in any season. Like a chrysanthemum. Thankfully, you (and everyone else) is much more complicated and diverse to be compared to a single type of flowering plant.
Written By Cirroch
Jan. 27, 2018, 6:10 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Cassima
As I have said, I will get you to Giant's Reach some day. You will love it there, the mountains are beautiful in the morning.
Written By Joscelin
Jan. 27, 2018, 6:06 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Percephon
....wait, are you saying that these are the kind of flowers -I- am?
I mean. I understand the philosophy. Waste-not, etc. But. Damn.
I mean. I understand the philosophy. Waste-not, etc. But. Damn.
Written By Percephon
Jan. 27, 2018, 6 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
Limerance's fly-trap. Mangata's pitchers. Viper's cups. Sundew. Butterworts. Bladderworts. Too many carnivorous plants to choose from.
Written By Joscelin
Jan. 27, 2018, 5:35 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Mae
Dandelions smell funny. I always pegged you for a daffodil. Or, one of those daffodils that lure insects with their beauty then feed off the rotting corpse as it decays in their depths.
Those are daffodils right?
Those are daffodils right?
Written By Mae
Jan. 27, 2018, 5:28 p.m.(1/18/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Aureth
You're a dandelion, same as me.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.