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Written By Ephrath

Dec. 13, 2019, 9:33 p.m.(5/15/1012 AR)

Relationship Note on Symonesse

I came to the city with one goal: to become a recognizable name as an artist.

I seem to have achieved that in part for the commissions I receive wherein they are accompanied by a note that they were referred to me by another. People already wear my jewelry and I hear talk of it in the streets.

But today I think I may have taken the step on the path I was unaware I was being guided toward. The Queen herself has taken me as her protege. I will be not only her primary artist for jewelry, but she has also promised to introduce me to the artisans of the Twilight Court.

I keep expecting to wake up from a beautiful dream. The Twilight Court. Just the name hearkens to tales I heard as a child. Oh, but I can't wait to see what they might teach me!

Written By Esme

Dec. 13, 2019, 7:53 p.m.(5/15/1012 AR)

Spring.

While I have an appreciation for the winter, I cannot stop my confession that I love the thaw. I adore the roses in bloom. The way everyone just sort of brightens. I have seen marriages rekindled in the spring magic. I have felt love in my own heart. I have felt it given to me. Oh the times that it lasts, even if it but a memory by summer; but it was there. It shall linger on the minds.

I think that while I enjoy the beauty of autumn, I love the love that spills forth in Spring.

Written By Esme

Dec. 13, 2019, 7:51 p.m.(5/15/1012 AR)

Relationship Note on Artur

Oh my dearest friends and family,

I feel compelled to speak of such things today. Love is in the air. It's Spring. It happens every year. It makes me think of the people I have loved and people that have loved me. It's a glorious condition to be heartsick. To feel that intensity when one you care about is around. My heart is grateful for much of it's steps and paths that it has taken. It led me to Prince Artur Redrain and in him, I find a great friend. I adore him so much and this has not lessened (even if our roles in fate has). His happiness still steals my breath with pure rapture. If you have not, I would ask that you send word to him. Tell him Esme said you should. Ask him out for drinks. Ask him about legends. Talk and be merry.

Written By Jules

Dec. 13, 2019, 6:46 p.m.(5/15/1012 AR)

Once again, I've found a new way that I'm hoping to be able to help more people and hopefully help my family more than I already am. With any luck everyone I work with will be excited about it and find they are more profitable than before but time will tell.

Written By Thomas

Dec. 13, 2019, 6:30 p.m.(5/15/1012 AR)

The feast in the Lowers was largely a success, aside from a brief altercation over garlic bread that lead to a broken nose; Dame Alexis gave generously from her own pocket to see justice met, and Lady Lenne tended the wounded man with remarkable skill, though I do not envy his recovery any.

It was here also that I was implored to see the city from an utterly different perspective by Master Ras.

It has left a weight on my mind ever since, one I have not been able to lift, and it turns over and over so that when I wake I cannot help but examine it again, feel its heft.

When I came to Arx, my heart and mind were cold and sharp, a blade seeking blood for blood. But now I am forced to admit how enormously selfish I have been.

To join the Gold Order was one of the best choices I have ever made, I think, in that I must confront my own weakness and foolishness and burn it away if I am ever to be a light that guides.

Written By Hadrian

Dec. 13, 2019, 2:10 p.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

I really prefer blondes.

Written By Lenne

Dec. 13, 2019, 12:36 p.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

Sleep is the true healer, that puts all others to shame. Would that I had its power, as a mere Physician!

I suppose I shouldn't scrawl things into the Whites, when I am sick with grief, and worry, and fear.

Yet, it is also supposed to be a true accounting or our lives, preserved in Vellichor's name, so that other's may learn from our triumphs and follies. The night will be carried with me, I expect. It will become a part of my life, that will change its course. So does it not deserve to be there, even if it's embarrassing? I've always thought so. I've never been one for hiding anything but the glowing victories in the Blacks. Nobody's life is so smooth, as that, and so it should be made to appear so.

Yesterday, I had my first patient, for whom no help was possible. Whom I had to leave for the Queen of Endings, and whose loved one I had to break the news to.

Yesterday, I was in terror, that another person I'd cared for was being tortured, or killed, all because I had cared for them.

Next time, I think I'll just go home, where it is safe, and cry on someone warm, rather than go out on the town.

With composure regained, I feel more like Lenne. Lenne falls often, shamefully. Yet, she gets back up. She doesn't flee, and she doesn't give up in despair, and she certainly doesn't abandon her life's work, to fade into safe obscurity.

Written By Strozza

Dec. 13, 2019, 12:22 p.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

I was told I met Domonico yesterday.

I am still convinced that Thea used sorcerery to cast an illusion.

But he was a very likable mythos made flesh, for a short time.

Written By Rysen

Dec. 13, 2019, 12:19 p.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

Relationship Note on Mikani

Spring Afternoon

A certain slant of light there is
In the failing hours of Spring
That plays throughout Mikani's hair
While she to our baby sings.

'Tis a rhyme that is full ancient
In a language I don't know,
Yet calls to mind the ocean's depths
In its rhythms and its flow.

My son, while yet he listens to
Sweet music from his mom,
Finds peace and soft serenity
In that elemental song.

Then in my lap I take the boy
And gaze there at the hearth,
Where dances bright a merry flame
While he listens to my heart,

And when he seems to tire,
I set him down to rest
In the cradle that Mikani wrought
Or from Anisha's sweet largesse.

My wife and I then show our love
In a language with no words,
In each other come to ecstasy
While the fire, low it burns.

Then she her gear is packing;
I slip my swords into my belt.
She to sail on even' tide
While I ride for Eyre Fells.

Written By Gaston

Dec. 13, 2019, 10:40 a.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

I have met a couple of people who face what they fear knowing full well what it means over the last few days; face it knowing they must do so, for themselves and they people they care about.

I had never thought myself a coward, having shared my taste of war and heartache, but in the face of their bravery I must admit -- I have certainly been dragging my feet of late.

I have sworn myself to the discipleship of Skald, but when do I finally live by my convictions again as these bright souls do?

Written By Astrid

Dec. 13, 2019, 10:10 a.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

For many, dancing is seen as a set of formalized steps to be executed at certain events. Ritualized movements, performed better by some than others, that we break out when the right music plays, when the right event is hosted. For others, dancing is an expression of joy or sorrow, brought forth to express to themselves or an audience what their words never could with such eloquence.

There are people in the Compact and outside of it that consider dance something more than even expression or duty. They view it as a form of religious devotion. Each movement is chosen in the spur of the moment. Choices are made in every dance. In these cases, the dancer brings forth their emotions through physical movement and offer it up to the gods.

Or, in particular, they give their dance in praise to the god that gave them freedom. The Liberator. The First Choice. Skald.

They choose to break away from the formal strictures of a waltz or square dance. They choose to express themselves personally and translate that freedom into some of the most amazing sights you will ever see.

And so I invite you, readers, to do the same. Feel the inspiration of Jayus, make the choices that Skald encourages of you. Dance. Dance in gratitude for your freedoms. Dance in meditation through your uncertainty. Dance because you can.

Or don't.

Really, it's your choice. The First Choice does not demand that you worship him. He only encourages you to make your own decisions, your own choices, and not give them to others if you can help it.

So dance, or don't, as you choose. But know that dance can be as transcendent an experience as prayer.

Written By Petra

Dec. 13, 2019, 9:14 a.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

Love is a risk, it is true. We find ourselves changed by it. When love is lost, the hurt is profound. But we cannot allow loss to weaken our resolve, nor can we let it blind us.

To love, and then to lose it, is as all things, an experience to help us grow and learn. But to close our hearts to the possibility of new love and hope is to live in darkness, and alone. We are none of us an island unto ourselves. Together, we are strong.

Written By Llewella

Dec. 13, 2019, 9:11 a.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

Relationship Note on Artur

Though Prince Artur was my patron for only a short time, I do cherish it. He is a fascinating story-teller, a fine giver-of-gifts, and always easy to speak with.

Written By Sina

Dec. 13, 2019, 6:58 a.m.(5/14/1012 AR)

*penned by Jacinthe, Assistant to the Archscholar*

Normally, I would write this journal entry myself as I always do, but I am currently incapacitated, so I have asked Jacinthe do the writing for me while I heal. I have no words to describe our recent foray in search of what happened to the Tenney twins. They were bright, young, hopeful and ideal prospects to become Godsworn. I daresay we were successful in our findings, and yet, some part of me feels that the work is not yet done. As soon as we have recovered from our injuries, our investigation will continue. But I made a promise, that I would see that their deaths would not go unanswered, and together, we have fulfilled that promise

May we ever be vigilant against the temptations that are placed before us, lest we take the path of the Butcher of Arx. Power is a responsibility, and a privilege, not to be abused for personal gain. Once you begin to walk that road, it will only lead to darkness. I hope, one day, to write the story in its entire, but until I am certain the story is complete, I shall maintain my own counsel for now.

Otherwise, from what I can tell, the restoration of the Stacks (again) seemed to be going so well. But then it seems someone decided to start putting books in places where they don't belong, creating chaos everywhere. Hopefully that has been sorted, and we can get everything put in its proper place once again. Then, I shall re-open the stacks to allow the public full access once more. In the meantime, our Scholars continue to stand by to help you find what you're looking for.

We live in interesting times. While I have been abed, alone with my thoughts, I realize that we, the people of Arx, have many obstacles ahead of us. But, I urge patience, and careful observation. Now is a time to act with caution, and I pray that Vellichor will guide our great leaders in wisdom. Many difficult choices may lie ahead, but it is important to remember that they /are/ choices. Some do not have the luxury of choice, bound in service, either by Writ or the chains of slavery. Let us use our right to choose our path responsibly, lest we too end up in chains.

Written By Lenne

Dec. 13, 2019, 2:19 a.m.(5/13/1012 AR)

I have discovered a new breed of hurt, today.
If the sweet exultation of a kiss is worth of a White, why not this?

I've found an especially sharp breed of betrayal, where basic human kindness and sympathy is treated with black suspicion, and used as a justification to threaten harm and ruin. The symptoms of the emotion are a quick degradation of faith in one's fellow man, and the inherent goodness of those around you.

It's the brother to fear, that doing the work the gods demand of us, in being kind, and charitable and honorable to one another will be decried, and punished.

But, the question becomes, is it the world's problem, or mine?
Far wiser people than I have told me it's the latter. When a hero and knight confirms one to be spoiled and naive, so it must be.
The stubborn side of me rails, and screams that it is all my betters who are wrong, even so.

Vellichor, let me not suffer my foolish naivety, any longer. I desperately tire of it.
Foolish girls cannot fix the world. It isn't a children's story. So why do I try to live in one?
I joked to Maquessa Reigna about my reach, ever exceeding my grasp.
Let me be content to heal what I am allowed to heal, and fix what it is my ability to fix.

Lagoma, let me wake tomorrow, better than today, and less torn.

Written By Sydney

Dec. 13, 2019, 12:47 a.m.(5/13/1012 AR)

A rash in a place you'd not discuss.

Oh, you know it's there. It itches, but it's ultimately something that isn't terribly important, and you're able to go about your day without ever looking at it. Perhaps you decide to live with it for days, or weeks. You scratch at it only occasionally, after all, and you offer excuses to yourself:

It might clear up any day, now.
That dab of soap you applied might make a difference.
Other rashes have cleared up before this, so this will be no different.
How long can it really last?

Anyhow, it's not like anyone else can see it.

When it spreads, you cover it with makeup. It's still there.
But it's fine, so long as no one can see it.
As long as you don't have to look at it.
It wouldn't be difficult, but it's ever-so embarrassing.

I see it, and I wait with poultice and ointment ready.

Whenever you are.

Written By Arcadia

Dec. 12, 2019, 10:59 p.m.(5/13/1012 AR)

I have never been good at sitting still. As a small child, my mother use to declare that I had ants in my pants. I'm pretty sure that may of been one of my sibling's first experiments. Did I actually have ants in my pants. there was probably a formal presentation I wouldn't sit still for too.

It seems quite comedic that I am now forced to sit still and fill my days with books. I hate it. The blue skys mock me. The laughter on the breeze and the people running past. It seems so cruel. The books are so dull. How can people learn from these? I wonder if there is a more fun way to learn when stuck in a library with hovering guards?

Written By Monique

Dec. 12, 2019, 10:33 p.m.(5/13/1012 AR)

"The price of love is loss."

An excerpt from a conversation I had recently, and I can find no fault in the statement. I thought it unbearably beautiful and tragic and felt compelled to commit the poignant sentiment to my journal, lest I forget such a truth. It will always be a price I pay willingly.

Written By Kyden

Dec. 12, 2019, 10:19 p.m.(5/13/1012 AR)

I've come out my room, taken out my chisel, and started to work again. Anisha was the first person I really laid eyes on after what felt like a year. I just walked up and showed her a skull. She liked it, too. Most everyone else hasn't received me so well, but at least I didn't get clogged in the head by Blessed Brigida after I 'accidentally' called her something like, 'a wrinkled, old shrew.' Well. I exactly called her this. In front of what felt like half the city of Arx! I was speaking too fast, and it sort of blurted out.

Written By Petra

Dec. 12, 2019, 6:30 p.m.(5/13/1012 AR)

Relationship Note on Teagan

Do not let your fear cloud your vision. Our fate is ours to choose, if we are vigilant.

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