Written By Sina
Jan. 23, 2018, 11:17 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Since my Lady Donella has married into House Redrain, I have been offered a position as handmaiden to Princess Consort Alarissa Thrax nee Grayson since she married Prince Victus, as she requires a servant with knowledge of the customs and practices of the Mourning Isles. I have just returned to Arx after she sent me to Maelstrom to recover a sentimental item, which she sorely missed.
I must admit, I am very impressed with Princess Alarissa's efforts with regards to improving the lot of the thralls of House Thrax. She is certainly ambitious, but change has to start somewhere, and I am honored to be able to stand witness to it.
On my return to Arx, I attended the Commoner's Council meeting, where we were all informed about some of the preparations being made for the impending arrival of the Gyre's fleet. This was quite informative, and I appreciated that the nobility are trying to be at least somewhat transparent in this regard. I believe it will help the commons to feel more reassured that their safety is being considered.
I must admit, I am very impressed with Princess Alarissa's efforts with regards to improving the lot of the thralls of House Thrax. She is certainly ambitious, but change has to start somewhere, and I am honored to be able to stand witness to it.
On my return to Arx, I attended the Commoner's Council meeting, where we were all informed about some of the preparations being made for the impending arrival of the Gyre's fleet. This was quite informative, and I appreciated that the nobility are trying to be at least somewhat transparent in this regard. I believe it will help the commons to feel more reassured that their safety is being considered.
Written By Sina
Jan. 23, 2018, 11:07 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Alarissa
I have taken up service with the Princess Consort of House Thrax as her handmaiden, that I might continue to serve the House that took me in. The Princess Consort is a good woman, and I feel we will get along very well. I adore her infant daughter Astrid, and I consider it an honor to have been chosen to serve.
Written By Sina
Jan. 23, 2018, 11 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Donella
I cannot help it, but I must do what my heart bids me. House Thrax took me in, and so it is to House Thrax I must remain in service. I must bid farewell to my Lady, and take service with another. I wish her the best in the coming years in her new life with House Redrain, and hope that we can remain friends.
Written By Sina
Jan. 23, 2018, 10:59 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Donella
Former Mistress=I cannot help it, but I must do what my heart bids me. House Thrax took me in, and so it is to House Thrax I must remain in service. I must bid farewell to my Lady, and take service with another. I wish her the best in the coming years in her new life with House Redrain, and hope that we can remain friends.
Written By Calaudrin
Jan. 23, 2018, 10:42 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Thena
Keep me out of your crazy musical atrocities!
Written By Derovai
Jan. 23, 2018, 10:20 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Thena
And I know one who plays the piano. Would you like me to arrange the musical accompaniment? You know I will do so at your behest, Dame Thena, and as expeditiously as I possibly can. I'm sure your offering, so artfully arranged, would prove most pleasing to Jayus, and to myself as well.
Written By Giulio
Jan. 23, 2018, 10:15 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Cambria
The well-spoken lady of the house. Let the Hydra show its many heads under her leadership.
Written By Rey
Jan. 23, 2018, 8:58 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
I didn't know, at first, that I was dreaming. It was one those dreams that's almost like the normal world sharpened to a point. I was brushing my hair, and every detail of that act sprang into perfect focus, like looking at reality through a curved lense. The strokes of the brush, the way that I saw it pass over my hair and felt it tugging of its bristles, the smell of my hair, the sound like a whisper of silk on silk as I pulled the little tangles apart. The banality should have crushing, the sheer essence of something that I do every single day, but maybe that wasn't the point. Maybe the point was absolute clarity, stripped down and pure.
But maybe it wasn't, because I had this feeling, while I was brushing and brushing and brushing, like everything around me, everything that I saw and felt and sensed with such perfect clarity, wasn't real anymore. It was all drained of color, past its prime. I brushed and brushed, listened to the whisper of the brush through my hair, saw my hair gleam silver in the pale, weak winter sun, and I thought that maybe this wasn't the life I should be living. The thought built inside me until it became a need, but even as my heart screamed more and more to shed the world like a snake sheds its skin, I couldn't stop my hands from brushing and brushing. It was with a wrench of will that I looked up from my hair and realized that everything around me -- my bed, the dresser, even the walls and floor were made of cleverly crafted paper. They had always been that way. How had I never noticed? Then I looked down and saw that even my hairbrush was nothing but a papercraft toy.
That's when I heard the singing.
Dozens of voices, maybe hundreds, all singing together, sweet, somehow in perfect harmony. They were just outside my window, and I knew they were singing to me. I wish I could remember the lyrics to the song. The lyrics seemed so important at the time.
'It's not the truth/It's just a dream...'
'Sometimes you need to be lost/Just to be found...'
I ran across the paper floor to my paper window, threw back shutters made of crepe, and looked out. They all stood on the square far below my window, looking up at me. Men. Women. Children. Holding hands and looking up at me as they sang. And all of them, all of them with faces of marble that glowed with a soft golden light. All of that light should have blinded me. All of those voices should have deafened me. But it was all so gentle, like being overwhelmed by velvet.
I wanted to go to them. Oh, I wanted to go to them. I yearned for it with everything in my being. I longed so deeply to put off my pretend paper life and go to what was real and what was beautiful. I reached out to them... And that's when I saw that my hand was made of paper, too.
One by one, the singers began to wink out like dying stars, the glow of their faces going, and the glow of their voices fading away one after another. Finally there was only one woman down there, looking up at me, singing with a delicate voice that I could barely hear. I begged her not to go, but she didn't belong there with me in my dying paper world. She stayed as long as she could, stayed for me, for her love of me, before she winked out, too. I didn't even dare cry, because my cheeks were made of paper.
With my soul sinking down through the floor, I turned away from the window, and found myself in the tall arched room again, its enormous pillars holding back all of the weight of the world, facing the chained man. I stepped towards him as he offered me his cup of sorrows.
But maybe it wasn't, because I had this feeling, while I was brushing and brushing and brushing, like everything around me, everything that I saw and felt and sensed with such perfect clarity, wasn't real anymore. It was all drained of color, past its prime. I brushed and brushed, listened to the whisper of the brush through my hair, saw my hair gleam silver in the pale, weak winter sun, and I thought that maybe this wasn't the life I should be living. The thought built inside me until it became a need, but even as my heart screamed more and more to shed the world like a snake sheds its skin, I couldn't stop my hands from brushing and brushing. It was with a wrench of will that I looked up from my hair and realized that everything around me -- my bed, the dresser, even the walls and floor were made of cleverly crafted paper. They had always been that way. How had I never noticed? Then I looked down and saw that even my hairbrush was nothing but a papercraft toy.
That's when I heard the singing.
Dozens of voices, maybe hundreds, all singing together, sweet, somehow in perfect harmony. They were just outside my window, and I knew they were singing to me. I wish I could remember the lyrics to the song. The lyrics seemed so important at the time.
'It's not the truth/It's just a dream...'
'Sometimes you need to be lost/Just to be found...'
I ran across the paper floor to my paper window, threw back shutters made of crepe, and looked out. They all stood on the square far below my window, looking up at me. Men. Women. Children. Holding hands and looking up at me as they sang. And all of them, all of them with faces of marble that glowed with a soft golden light. All of that light should have blinded me. All of those voices should have deafened me. But it was all so gentle, like being overwhelmed by velvet.
I wanted to go to them. Oh, I wanted to go to them. I yearned for it with everything in my being. I longed so deeply to put off my pretend paper life and go to what was real and what was beautiful. I reached out to them... And that's when I saw that my hand was made of paper, too.
One by one, the singers began to wink out like dying stars, the glow of their faces going, and the glow of their voices fading away one after another. Finally there was only one woman down there, looking up at me, singing with a delicate voice that I could barely hear. I begged her not to go, but she didn't belong there with me in my dying paper world. She stayed as long as she could, stayed for me, for her love of me, before she winked out, too. I didn't even dare cry, because my cheeks were made of paper.
With my soul sinking down through the floor, I turned away from the window, and found myself in the tall arched room again, its enormous pillars holding back all of the weight of the world, facing the chained man. I stepped towards him as he offered me his cup of sorrows.
Written By Aiden
Jan. 23, 2018, 6:02 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Artur
I'm really happy that we met and hit it off. We've too much in common not to!
Though that Northern Whiskey still churns my stomach and Lightfoot is still as capable as ever.
Though that Northern Whiskey still churns my stomach and Lightfoot is still as capable as ever.
Written By Giulio
Jan. 23, 2018, 5:30 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Theron
Ah, my older brother -- the strong right arm of the family.
Written By Artur
Jan. 23, 2018, 5:04 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Echo
I had only met her briefly at a wedding or something previously, but it was a lot of fun bumping into Echo while I was walking in the Grey Forest. She's every bit as sweet and friendly as I remember her being, even if not a terribly good rider.
Written By Artur
Jan. 23, 2018, 4:56 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Marian
My cousin Marian has been putting me through my paces with my sword and it turns out I'm actually pretty rusty. She beat me pretty black and blue the first time, though I think I'm starting to do a little better. She doesn't get as many hits in, anymore.
I mean, still enough I would be stone cold dead if it ever came to it, but less quickly and spectacularly.
I mean, still enough I would be stone cold dead if it ever came to it, but less quickly and spectacularly.
Written By Artur
Jan. 23, 2018, 4:53 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Aiden
Okay, so it turns out that Aiden is the better rider than me. I had the upper hand for a bit but he stormed past me at the last second. Silvermist gave it her all, so it probably has something to do with me. I should take some lessons.
In other news, he sets the worst/best forfeits for losing. I still owe him a snow angel - it's going to be cold!
In other news, he sets the worst/best forfeits for losing. I still owe him a snow angel - it's going to be cold!
Written By Thena
Jan. 23, 2018, 2:56 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Derovai
I know a guy with a banjo.
Written By Derovai
Jan. 23, 2018, 2:41 p.m.(1/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Thena
Someone should set that to music. Any volunteers?
Written By Thena
Jan. 23, 2018, 1:42 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Derovai
I don’t write songs. That was the point.
However, here is a little poem I wrote some time back. I think it was this that brought me to Grandmaster Armel’s attention:
Brand,
I will take as much as I can
From you before I die
Because fuck you.
What’s really great about it is you can switch out the name at the front. Which one would need to do to keep it relevant, because obviously Brand is dead and I am not.
However, here is a little poem I wrote some time back. I think it was this that brought me to Grandmaster Armel’s attention:
Brand,
I will take as much as I can
From you before I die
Because fuck you.
What’s really great about it is you can switch out the name at the front. Which one would need to do to keep it relevant, because obviously Brand is dead and I am not.
Written By Derovai
Jan. 23, 2018, 1:26 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Thena
Let's hear the song you wrote. I'm sure you have an eager and appreciative audience at hand.
Written By Alarissa
Jan. 23, 2018, 1:19 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Mae
I am reminded that you are welcome to come and sing such to Astrid, if you like.
Written By Margerie
Jan. 23, 2018, 12:16 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Kael
You are not foolish, nephew. I hope that makes her proud.
Even if I may begrudge the years we have not had to know one another, I will be forever grateful to your good governess' work in making you the young man that came to Oakhaven, the young man that serves Oakhaven, and the young man that leads Oakhaven.
Even if I may begrudge the years we have not had to know one another, I will be forever grateful to your good governess' work in making you the young man that came to Oakhaven, the young man that serves Oakhaven, and the young man that leads Oakhaven.
Written By Margerie
Jan. 23, 2018, 12:12 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Samantha
What a fascinating idea! I must remember to write to request a copy of the book. When we have had a chance to read it, would it be possible to organize a group to discuss the concepts you have set forth?
I am very much looking forward to reading your work.
M Keaton
I am very much looking forward to reading your work.
M Keaton
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.