Written By Kahlana
May 3, 2017, 8:44 p.m.(5/23/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Donella
Nice to meet the voice of Thrax.. wonderful conversations of potential buisness
Written By Ford
May 3, 2017, 7:38 p.m.(5/23/1006 AR)
I feel as though I've had this headache for the past week and a half. Just when it begins to mellow out, something else crops up to bring it back to the forefront of my brain parts.
That being said, things are not as bad as they could be.
That being said, things are not as bad as they could be.
Written By Kima
May 3, 2017, 6:57 p.m.(5/23/1006 AR)
I received a letter from my mother, informing me that the family would be holding a large bonfire in memory of both father and brother. Vomas and I have lit candles throughout the Tower, which will burn continuously for seven days. He and I will wear the grey tears (three vertical stripes of ash upon our cheeks, for those unfamiliar) for that duration.
We mourn.
We remember.
We mourn.
We remember.
Written By Saedrus
May 3, 2017, 6:17 p.m.(5/23/1006 AR)
23rd of the Fifth Month, 1005
In Memory.
"Halt the belltowers, clear the cobblestone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Build up the pyre, let the mourners come.
Let crows circle crying overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He Is Dead',
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the iron guards wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my evening rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
((Minor adjustments, but credit due: W. H. Auden "Stop all the clocks..."))
In Memory.
"Halt the belltowers, clear the cobblestone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Build up the pyre, let the mourners come.
Let crows circle crying overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He Is Dead',
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the iron guards wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my evening rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
((Minor adjustments, but credit due: W. H. Auden "Stop all the clocks..."))
Written By Saira
May 3, 2017, 3:33 p.m.(5/23/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Mydas
I believe I was eight when I first met cousin Mydas. If memory serves me right, I took one look at him, squeaked and hid behind a tapestry for the remainder of his visit. Naturally, he has not done the polite thing and forgotten that oh so composed response. Nor will he allow me too. Still, I cannot help but be fond of him. Perhaps his love of books serves to redeem him, if only a little. His incessant need to tease, surprisingly, worked wonders to set me at ease. I at least managed to remain visible this time. For me, that is a feat worth a banquet.
Written By Saira
May 3, 2017, 3:32 p.m.(5/23/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Armel
Grand Master Armel Godsworn is a man I was blessed to meet. In a city so far from what I am personally used to, he was a steadying, guiding foundation willing to bear with my shyness, answer my questions and handle my obsession with books with amusement and indulgence rather than irritation and eye rolling. I cannot wait to run into him again. Not physically, of course. That would be painful.
Written By Saira
May 3, 2017, 2:44 p.m.(5/22/1006 AR)
When she wakes in the darkness of the night, she is weeping. Small hands clutch the edge of the blankets, drawing the silken fabric taught between clenched fists. Salty droplets spill from the corners of her closed eyes, rolling into her hair and ears, dampening the pillow beneath her head with a river of grief she cannot comprehend.
It has been like this for days, ever since she arrived in Arx. Half remembered dreams dance on the fringes of her consciousness, taunting her with something beautiful before abandoning her in the dead of night with the feeling as if half her soul has been torn asunder. She knows it is not real, whatever it is, but the pain it brings is real, causing her chest to ache as if caught within the constricting hand of a stone giant, as if her heart is attempting to tell her something her mind flatly refuses to accept.
Might it be merely homesickness?
Might it be something else?
'Dreams. All dreams. Figments of the mind that represent what we wish we were, or had, or could be. Perhaps I am just terrified of being here alone.'
Abandoning the posture her etiquette instructor taught her to sleep in, ("Flat on your back, hands at your sides"), she rolls onto her front, pressing her face into the cool silk of her pillowcase. Drawing in a deep breath, she releases it in a controlled exhale, feeling the fierce, inexplicable grief ebbing almost as fast as it has struck her. The barely recalled shades of memories dissipate like ash on the wind, dreams retreating back into the unfathomable depth of her subconscious, leaving pure relief in their wake.
She really must stop reading before bed.
It has been like this for days, ever since she arrived in Arx. Half remembered dreams dance on the fringes of her consciousness, taunting her with something beautiful before abandoning her in the dead of night with the feeling as if half her soul has been torn asunder. She knows it is not real, whatever it is, but the pain it brings is real, causing her chest to ache as if caught within the constricting hand of a stone giant, as if her heart is attempting to tell her something her mind flatly refuses to accept.
Might it be merely homesickness?
Might it be something else?
'Dreams. All dreams. Figments of the mind that represent what we wish we were, or had, or could be. Perhaps I am just terrified of being here alone.'
Abandoning the posture her etiquette instructor taught her to sleep in, ("Flat on your back, hands at your sides"), she rolls onto her front, pressing her face into the cool silk of her pillowcase. Drawing in a deep breath, she releases it in a controlled exhale, feeling the fierce, inexplicable grief ebbing almost as fast as it has struck her. The barely recalled shades of memories dissipate like ash on the wind, dreams retreating back into the unfathomable depth of her subconscious, leaving pure relief in their wake.
She really must stop reading before bed.
Written By Titania
May 3, 2017, 2:27 p.m.(5/22/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Ford
I had not seen him in such a long time! Seeing him yesterday made my day! He has promised to show me around I can not wait. I am so nervous to be here in Arx, but yet so excited.
Written By Halsim
May 3, 2017, 10:50 a.m.(5/22/1006 AR)
You'd think that these fools would listen to 'end of the world' from one of the Pantheon.
I mean, really. Kidnapping the King? How did they expect that to work... and for what? A pat on the back from someone who wants to unmake them?
These are the days you need to remind yourself that an Inquisitor is on the front line against the worst the Compact has to offer.
I mean, really. Kidnapping the King? How did they expect that to work... and for what? A pat on the back from someone who wants to unmake them?
These are the days you need to remind yourself that an Inquisitor is on the front line against the worst the Compact has to offer.
Written By Morrighan
May 3, 2017, 10:20 a.m.(5/22/1006 AR)
With time comes change, be it great or small, enjoyable or hated - but nothing can stop it from arriving, regardless of your feeling. We stand upon a great precipice of change, staring down at a dark gaping maw of uncertainty, filled with things that once were believed to be regarded as myth. Tall tales. Now they beat on our gates, infiltrate our city, banging the drums of war and many have been taken from us as a result. Yet we stand strong, fighting relentlessly to protect and cast away the vile creatures that threaten everything. They bring the potential to end all things. All life. Every little hope and dream, any fragment of a yearned for future - it all hangs on how this war ends and who comes out the victor. So as I stand on this edge, staring down into that void of unknown possibilities brought on by change, I have to recollect how we came to be here in the first place. How I came to be where I stand.
I can't say that I had the best life before bending the knee to Redrain, it was the worst Abyss most anyone could ever imagine. Yet, despite the worst of it, through the odds, I came out breathing. I'm still here, standing. Living. Surviving. It didn't come without a price. Once you come out of a place like that, it changes you. The ghosts of it still haunt, still torment, and while I'm still here, it leaves wounds that have yet to fully heal. The bitter resentment and hate still rears its head, deeply rooted, and sometimes it takes a firm hand to have the strength to pull such thoroughly entrenched ideas out. Sometimes it takes very real threats of more change to make you pause, to make you think and to give incentive to try and clear away debris left by scars and poignant memories that still cut deep - all so you can see the world around you with absolute clarity. So you can see the bigger picture without anything else clouding it.
Though while I stand, a survivor, I'm still not free. I'm still bound, and I've done it to myself by holding onto a past that has ended up hurting people I never intended to hurt. Change can be a frightening thing at times, especially when the outcome is uncertain, but if you don't pull out the weeds, other things won't grow properly, and left unattended, they'll overtake everything, resulting in destruction. So, here I am on this edge. Do I stay and keep looking back over my shoulder to what was, long since passed, and let it chain me further, unable to progress, leading to my eventual self destruction? Or do I look forward into that unknown below, take that leap and hope for the best? Not much of a question, really, it's clear what I have to do - but a little at a time.
Change can shape you, mold you into something better, but if you don't rip out the unsavory pieces, it means nothing.
I'll tear it all out, one piece at a time. I won't let it weaken me or threaten the things I care most about.
I've survived some of the worst things imaginable, and I'll survive this.
I can't say that I had the best life before bending the knee to Redrain, it was the worst Abyss most anyone could ever imagine. Yet, despite the worst of it, through the odds, I came out breathing. I'm still here, standing. Living. Surviving. It didn't come without a price. Once you come out of a place like that, it changes you. The ghosts of it still haunt, still torment, and while I'm still here, it leaves wounds that have yet to fully heal. The bitter resentment and hate still rears its head, deeply rooted, and sometimes it takes a firm hand to have the strength to pull such thoroughly entrenched ideas out. Sometimes it takes very real threats of more change to make you pause, to make you think and to give incentive to try and clear away debris left by scars and poignant memories that still cut deep - all so you can see the world around you with absolute clarity. So you can see the bigger picture without anything else clouding it.
Though while I stand, a survivor, I'm still not free. I'm still bound, and I've done it to myself by holding onto a past that has ended up hurting people I never intended to hurt. Change can be a frightening thing at times, especially when the outcome is uncertain, but if you don't pull out the weeds, other things won't grow properly, and left unattended, they'll overtake everything, resulting in destruction. So, here I am on this edge. Do I stay and keep looking back over my shoulder to what was, long since passed, and let it chain me further, unable to progress, leading to my eventual self destruction? Or do I look forward into that unknown below, take that leap and hope for the best? Not much of a question, really, it's clear what I have to do - but a little at a time.
Change can shape you, mold you into something better, but if you don't rip out the unsavory pieces, it means nothing.
I'll tear it all out, one piece at a time. I won't let it weaken me or threaten the things I care most about.
I've survived some of the worst things imaginable, and I'll survive this.
Written By Valerion
May 3, 2017, 2:59 a.m.(5/22/1006 AR)
Only recently has word of this reached my ears. While I may not pretend to have any maritime experience I would love to attend as an observer of course. I can bring wine and good company unless duty of course pulls me away.
Written By Valerion
May 3, 2017, 2:10 a.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
I have been in Arx all of ten days now, and what have I done?
Already made a new enemy. It is my most hated foe, and tho
I cannot readily dispatch it with my blade. Oooooh the trouble.
How it taunts me and makes me feel a fool. How it has injured
those closest to me. What manner of beast would do such a
thing but one created by our own hands. That's right. One
day I will conquer thee oh mighty Gauntlet. Your days are
numbered!
Already made a new enemy. It is my most hated foe, and tho
I cannot readily dispatch it with my blade. Oooooh the trouble.
How it taunts me and makes me feel a fool. How it has injured
those closest to me. What manner of beast would do such a
thing but one created by our own hands. That's right. One
day I will conquer thee oh mighty Gauntlet. Your days are
numbered!
Written By Katarina
May 2, 2017, 10:38 p.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
It occured to me how foreign writing journals daily, to commit my thoughts to parchment and give tangibility to dreams, wishes, and hopes really are for me. Here in Arvum, the ability to read and write is like walking and talking - second nature to all, regardless of class, as it is such a deep-seeded reverent thing to do in worship of Vellichor.
In Eurus, the ability to read and write is a considered something of a luxury reserved for those of status and higher birth. The lower castes, it's far more common that they didn't possess the knowledge than did because the keeping of journals is not so integral to daily lives and worship.
It's a startling contrast amidst many, but yet one more difference that I adore about Arvum and it's culture.
In Eurus, the ability to read and write is a considered something of a luxury reserved for those of status and higher birth. The lower castes, it's far more common that they didn't possess the knowledge than did because the keeping of journals is not so integral to daily lives and worship.
It's a startling contrast amidst many, but yet one more difference that I adore about Arvum and it's culture.
Written By Aldwin
May 2, 2017, 9:56 p.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Ophelia
I had my worries about Princess Ophelia when she first came to visit. The conversation was quite serious and the topic one that, I have to say, she handled better than I expected. She has proven to be charming company. I do fear for the songbirds in Arx though. I will have to tell Orazio to keep his caged lest she get to it.
Written By Edward
May 2, 2017, 8:52 p.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Haati
I commissioned a sword from Master Wavehowler, something simple and functional. And he returns to me a piece of elegant destruction. Bravo Master Craftsman, Bravo.
Written By Katarina
May 2, 2017, 8:06 p.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Eleyna
They say she's come down with a sickness, but I'm willing to bet she's with child. Why? Because clearly, there is just something in the air of the Lycene. Or, their men are far more virile --- I will not go there. Lalalalalalalala. Never mind.
Written By Edward
May 2, 2017, 7:48 p.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Harald
The Duke has a strength and conviction that is to be admired. He has displayed wisdom many would have to be going grey to possess.
Written By Seva
May 2, 2017, 7:19 p.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Dominic
I love my uncle dearly. He has shown me so much kindness and has gone out of his way to make sure that I am safe.
But I am going to scream if he shows up at my shop covered in mud again.
But I am going to scream if he shows up at my shop covered in mud again.
Written By Dominique
May 2, 2017, 4:52 p.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
I hope Atrid can forgive me
Written By Dominique
May 2, 2017, 4:41 p.m.(5/21/1006 AR)
We are eloping tonight. No more of this pomp and circumstance nonsense.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.