Written By Zyanya
Aug. 29, 2020, 7:50 p.m.(12/6/1013 AR)
The shore falls away, lace cast over grey stone,
The rising tide, the moon behind the mountains...
A gull screams, "Your heart! Your heart!"
But I have stowed it safe below, nested in silk.
Home abandoned to find home, we sail.
The rising tide, the moon behind the mountains...
A gull screams, "Your heart! Your heart!"
But I have stowed it safe below, nested in silk.
Home abandoned to find home, we sail.
Written By Maren
Aug. 29, 2020, 7:22 p.m.(12/6/1013 AR)
The fog of travel has still not left my mind; this voyage back to the lands of my birth has been the first time that I have had my feet upon a deck of a ship since I felt the one a lifetime ago break apart beneath them, and myself cast into the void of cold dark seas, accompanied by shouts and screams. I will not deny that is what I heard each night in my dreams the first week of sailing, waking with the taste of salt and blood upon my tongue.
But by the time we were on our second sail of this journey, with a new crew and a brief time in the port so that I could send my letters, some of what I remembered being so thrilling as a young woman returned; the feeling of the salt spray against my skin, my hair set in a frenzy. The captain was kind as well. A woman from Bravura, she said, along with much but not all of the crew.
Our first task upon embarking was to visit Mangata's shrine; the captain was kind enough to allow our chests to be held on the ship until their next sailing so that we had time to secure lodgings. Here we met some of the lords and ladies in the throes of the more carefree times of life, I think--with so many possibilities and pathways spread out before them. And then it was onwards towards the inn, and to send word to the Captain.
It is hard to describe the feeling of being surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds and scents of a world a lifetime away and from which hope had dimmed of ever returning. This land is not strange, but I think it will be some time before in my heart I do not feel a stranger now. And harder still the sliver in the heart that is opening my eyes in the comfortable bed and reaching out to find the other side empty, my arms still aching to hold my love between them just one last time.
I do not yet know the fate of all of my brothers, or how much in the way of my kin, their children and perhaps even children's children remain to me, or if I will come to know them as I longed to do over the years--though I have no doubt that they thrive still, it is and always has been our way. But semi-stranger though I may be, this time I from the start I am not alone. The life of a foreigner is never an easy one--sometimes I wonder if it was the best choice to offer this path for my daughter now, and one that not even I can fully understand, with one foot in two different streams.
But we are here. A new path to find. I pray that I have chosen the right one to journey here. But I am more sure than ever, from the moment I stepped foot on the docks, that this truly is home, whatever I might make of that this time.
But by the time we were on our second sail of this journey, with a new crew and a brief time in the port so that I could send my letters, some of what I remembered being so thrilling as a young woman returned; the feeling of the salt spray against my skin, my hair set in a frenzy. The captain was kind as well. A woman from Bravura, she said, along with much but not all of the crew.
Our first task upon embarking was to visit Mangata's shrine; the captain was kind enough to allow our chests to be held on the ship until their next sailing so that we had time to secure lodgings. Here we met some of the lords and ladies in the throes of the more carefree times of life, I think--with so many possibilities and pathways spread out before them. And then it was onwards towards the inn, and to send word to the Captain.
It is hard to describe the feeling of being surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds and scents of a world a lifetime away and from which hope had dimmed of ever returning. This land is not strange, but I think it will be some time before in my heart I do not feel a stranger now. And harder still the sliver in the heart that is opening my eyes in the comfortable bed and reaching out to find the other side empty, my arms still aching to hold my love between them just one last time.
I do not yet know the fate of all of my brothers, or how much in the way of my kin, their children and perhaps even children's children remain to me, or if I will come to know them as I longed to do over the years--though I have no doubt that they thrive still, it is and always has been our way. But semi-stranger though I may be, this time I from the start I am not alone. The life of a foreigner is never an easy one--sometimes I wonder if it was the best choice to offer this path for my daughter now, and one that not even I can fully understand, with one foot in two different streams.
But we are here. A new path to find. I pray that I have chosen the right one to journey here. But I am more sure than ever, from the moment I stepped foot on the docks, that this truly is home, whatever I might make of that this time.
Written By Philippe
Aug. 29, 2020, 5:02 p.m.(12/6/1013 AR)
These plush renderings of Oaty appear to be on the path to become some sort of trend. I may need to have a few more made for assorted children's homes and the like. Perhaps there is a desire for other plush renderings of horses. Mathilde thinks it will be an excellent way to encourage children to read her forthcoming text. If it helps to spread the word of Gloria, so be it.
Written By Eirene
Aug. 29, 2020, 4:50 p.m.(12/6/1013 AR)
I hate it when my suspicions are confirmed.
Written By Svana
Aug. 29, 2020, 2:41 p.m.(12/6/1013 AR)
I bought some honeysilk for Anisha - well, to dress Anisha in - at the market. God, I can't stop running my fingers over it! It is just so... lux. I really hope that Asher has some money saved, we're going to be broke soon between the new damask and the duskweave too. Plus I want to get my hands on some other things...
Patience, Svana, patience. I can only remind myself so many times.
Patience, Svana, patience. I can only remind myself so many times.
Written By Valencia
Aug. 29, 2020, 12:57 p.m.(12/6/1013 AR)
Why am I so kind and welcoming all the time? Because it is something that I wish to see more of in the world.
It feels right. It costs me nothing to do so and yet the rewards are so plentiful. There are times the gift of a warm word or earnest gesture can make all the difference to another who might need it but cannot speak.
Does it mean I lack ambition or I am weak? That I have no temper or passion? That I am without steel beneath the silks I love to wear?
Not at all. It is just my preferred way of being. That is all.
~~~~~~~<~<~<@
It feels right. It costs me nothing to do so and yet the rewards are so plentiful. There are times the gift of a warm word or earnest gesture can make all the difference to another who might need it but cannot speak.
Does it mean I lack ambition or I am weak? That I have no temper or passion? That I am without steel beneath the silks I love to wear?
Not at all. It is just my preferred way of being. That is all.
~~~~~~~<~<~<@
Written By Harlex
Aug. 29, 2020, 11:22 a.m.(12/5/1013 AR)
I have been taking challenges outside of the city. It has given me time to travel, ride the long roads. Hone my skill.
Most have been amicable. Most just wish to test their mettle against the Sword of Lenosia. These matches end in bruises and drink. I have no taste for sport, but whiskey — that can stay plentiful.
In Southport I had come to duel an instructor at the Academy, a private match. She was an adherent to the traditional Lycene fencing; let it not be said that the old ways are less dangerous. The bout was good. I struck her four times and received only two blows.
Underestimated the flexibility of those damned rapiers.
When I was through with the city I quit from it and headed to a small coastal town outside. A place called Megaris. It was here a mercenary had tracked me down. A lancer named Llis, who had heard of my duel with the instructor.
He wished to try his hand. He didn’t care for play-fighting.
So I obliged him.
As he laid dying, his blood soaked up into the stones, I knelt by his side. He laughed when I did this and said, “What’s one more to you?”
That stuck with me, on the ride back to Arx.
Most have been amicable. Most just wish to test their mettle against the Sword of Lenosia. These matches end in bruises and drink. I have no taste for sport, but whiskey — that can stay plentiful.
In Southport I had come to duel an instructor at the Academy, a private match. She was an adherent to the traditional Lycene fencing; let it not be said that the old ways are less dangerous. The bout was good. I struck her four times and received only two blows.
Underestimated the flexibility of those damned rapiers.
When I was through with the city I quit from it and headed to a small coastal town outside. A place called Megaris. It was here a mercenary had tracked me down. A lancer named Llis, who had heard of my duel with the instructor.
He wished to try his hand. He didn’t care for play-fighting.
So I obliged him.
As he laid dying, his blood soaked up into the stones, I knelt by his side. He laughed when I did this and said, “What’s one more to you?”
That stuck with me, on the ride back to Arx.
Written By Gwenna
Aug. 29, 2020, 6:54 a.m.(12/5/1013 AR)
Honeysilk! It is absolutely gorgeous and I can hardly wait to turn this gloriously-hued fabric into something to wear. The question, of course, is what and if I have any jewelry appropriate enough to wear with it. I've also mused lately on seeking out an artisan or two in the city in regard to doing some modeling. I generally just patronize my favorite shops and request a thing or two crafted there, but maybe assisting someone - should they want that sort of thing - would also be helpful.
Written By Saoirse
Aug. 29, 2020, 2:51 a.m.(12/5/1013 AR)
Ah, but it's nice to have Yelana back in town.
Written By Hamish
Aug. 29, 2020, 2:10 a.m.(12/5/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Tanith
It's fine.
Sometimes people eat spiders. Often in their sleep!
And sometimes spiders eat people. Usually both are awake when that happens.
Sometimes people eat spiders. Often in their sleep!
And sometimes spiders eat people. Usually both are awake when that happens.
Written By Neilda
Aug. 29, 2020, 1:34 a.m.(12/5/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Sydney
How can you talk about a story like that and not give a name?
Or a loan.
I'll make it worth your while.
Or a loan.
I'll make it worth your while.
Written By Svana
Aug. 28, 2020, 10:45 p.m.(12/4/1013 AR)
My children are teething and crawling. Gods, spirits, Reflections - what have you - help me.
Just as Asher and I have decided to expand the family.
Just as Asher and I have decided to expand the family.
Written By Olivian
Aug. 28, 2020, 10:25 p.m.(12/4/1013 AR)
I feel like I should probably be challenging myself further than just on how to incorporate this new damask into the armour I'm going to have made. Maybe a cape? Anyway, I finally have some sort of idea on how I'm going to sharpen this edge, it's dangerous but I think it will be worth it.
Written By Raphael
Aug. 28, 2020, 10:21 p.m.(12/4/1013 AR)
Things are starting to come together with regards to the preparations to opening the school, just a couple of things left to cross off the docket. I'm excited.
Written By Piccola
Aug. 28, 2020, 8:01 p.m.(12/4/1013 AR)
Let those with a sword at their side and a quill in their hand fear no one.
There is an irrational fear as war looms which provokes us to see spies among our allies and threatens to burn down our own villages. With it comes a creeping fear of doubt of what we have been taught, of the validity of so many things we take for granted, and of the loyalties wrought from centuries of trust. In times of war, it is becomes more difficult than ever to distinguish black from white, good from evil, and right from wrong.
But if we remember that we are not descended from fearful people or from those who were afraid to write, speak, associate, and defend unpopular causes, then we shall never be driven by fear into an age of tyranny.
There is an irrational fear as war looms which provokes us to see spies among our allies and threatens to burn down our own villages. With it comes a creeping fear of doubt of what we have been taught, of the validity of so many things we take for granted, and of the loyalties wrought from centuries of trust. In times of war, it is becomes more difficult than ever to distinguish black from white, good from evil, and right from wrong.
But if we remember that we are not descended from fearful people or from those who were afraid to write, speak, associate, and defend unpopular causes, then we shall never be driven by fear into an age of tyranny.
Written By Tanith
Aug. 28, 2020, 7:24 p.m.(12/4/1013 AR)
Had a small heart attack yesterday; caught Atli munching on something in the kitchen, thought it was a spider.
Well, it was, but it was the big red plushy one from the Harlequins.
I don't know which alarmed me more; the idea of a spider that big or Atli -eating- one.
Well, it was, but it was the big red plushy one from the Harlequins.
I don't know which alarmed me more; the idea of a spider that big or Atli -eating- one.
Written By Tanith
Aug. 28, 2020, 7:22 p.m.(12/4/1013 AR)
A fortnight on the road, under the stars with a bunch of 'kin'. Went well enough, learning new ways to eat picked everything, even got a few new recipes on spiced preserves. Also, I had no idea you could make peppers into jam and jellies. I brought some back, and on my sourdough toast with fresh butter? -Fantastic-.
Good to be home, though. Feels better when the house is full, dog and all, kitchen smelling like tea and good food.
But I'm feeling worn thin lately. Tired, like sleep just isn't hitting deep enough. Putting a lot of me in the work I've been doing, it's getting harder to find ways of getting that back, regrowing, rebuilding what I've given to others.
Listen to me, I sound like Emara, talking about one of her bushes.
"Some things need shit to grow, Tani, and some things just need to be left alone."
I don't know which I am. I need something, though.
Good to be home, though. Feels better when the house is full, dog and all, kitchen smelling like tea and good food.
But I'm feeling worn thin lately. Tired, like sleep just isn't hitting deep enough. Putting a lot of me in the work I've been doing, it's getting harder to find ways of getting that back, regrowing, rebuilding what I've given to others.
Listen to me, I sound like Emara, talking about one of her bushes.
"Some things need shit to grow, Tani, and some things just need to be left alone."
I don't know which I am. I need something, though.
Written By Tarik
Aug. 28, 2020, 3:07 p.m.(12/4/1013 AR)
I am not too proud to admit that I miss Shard. Everyone needs someone in their life to confide in, to make sure you are not folowing the wrong tracks, and to make sure you are not putting your head in butt.I have my lovely Rowenova, but I guess you need a friend that once threaten to kill you on multiple occassions when you first met. I am glad that such threats faded to nothingness over the years. She was great at the latter; eventhough, her way of letting you know what you were doing was not always polite. So I have been looking over her white journals and seeing if I can found some wisdom in them. I actually did. It has spurred me to further my research.
Written By Aureth
Aug. 28, 2020, 2:32 p.m.(12/4/1013 AR)
There is no wound more personal than a spiritual injury. A soul's ache is unlike any bodily ache, unsoothable by any physical salve. Nor is simple prayer the solution to all such agues.
A priest is not a physicker, but a simple guide. Shepherds guide sheep, but priests guide people, and people are altogether more difficult charges than sheep. Sheep are simple, sheep are trusting, sheep need protection. _People_ are not simple, nor trusting, for all that they need protection. People are clever, enterprising, dignified, self-deceptive, self-destructive. My crook can serve only so far, for a heart can make only its own choices; yet still, if I fail one of my charges, it's not on them, not on the wounded soul, nor upon the gods they desperately seek, whether they are aware or no.
The failure is mine. For the path is there to be walked, and I have taken an oath along with this ... imaginary crook. Yet I might lose some anyway. With all the passion, and certainty, and persuasion, and faith at my disposal, I might lose you anyway.
I did not want to fail any of you, but if a man never fails, he will never learn.
It is inevitable that we fall short of perfection, for we are only human, and the demand of the Church is that we strive, not necessarily that we achieve, for to live a perfect life of virtues across all those virtues we ask may not be possible, but the virtues themselves guideposts for which we reach, not goals that we claim and surpass.
It is inevitable that I fall short of perfection.
Yet no one need be lost forever. With prayer, and faith, and hope, it may be yet that a lost one may still find their way home.
A priest is not a physicker, but a simple guide. Shepherds guide sheep, but priests guide people, and people are altogether more difficult charges than sheep. Sheep are simple, sheep are trusting, sheep need protection. _People_ are not simple, nor trusting, for all that they need protection. People are clever, enterprising, dignified, self-deceptive, self-destructive. My crook can serve only so far, for a heart can make only its own choices; yet still, if I fail one of my charges, it's not on them, not on the wounded soul, nor upon the gods they desperately seek, whether they are aware or no.
The failure is mine. For the path is there to be walked, and I have taken an oath along with this ... imaginary crook. Yet I might lose some anyway. With all the passion, and certainty, and persuasion, and faith at my disposal, I might lose you anyway.
I did not want to fail any of you, but if a man never fails, he will never learn.
It is inevitable that we fall short of perfection, for we are only human, and the demand of the Church is that we strive, not necessarily that we achieve, for to live a perfect life of virtues across all those virtues we ask may not be possible, but the virtues themselves guideposts for which we reach, not goals that we claim and surpass.
It is inevitable that I fall short of perfection.
Yet no one need be lost forever. With prayer, and faith, and hope, it may be yet that a lost one may still find their way home.
Written By Lisebet
Aug. 28, 2020, 8:40 a.m.(12/3/1013 AR)
As autumn chill fills the air, it becomes more and more time to search out small gatherings in warm places, drink coffee or tea, and enjoy family. While things may not be perfect, it's good to remember what we love about each season and Arx. What makes us strong.
And then take a deep breath and continue moving forward with doing all the things we've set ourselves to do.
And then take a deep breath and continue moving forward with doing all the things we've set ourselves to do.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.