Written By Martino
Feb. 13, 2019, 8:19 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Gretchen
The Lady Gretchen Moore's recently opened Spa location is a wonderful addition to the City. Pleased to see such comforts opening and, well if the opening event was anything to go by, it will be a success.
Looking forward to possibly see it expand in time to come.
Looking forward to possibly see it expand in time to come.
Written By Edain
Feb. 13, 2019, 7:43 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Thank's to an unexpected guest the nursery at the Valardin manor has been turned into a battlefield, as apparantly my niece Princess Ellara and her new friend have decided there is room for only one such forceful personality in those hallowed halls. Complete with opposing forts and frequent yells of, "You can't ride Horsey McHorseface across that! That blanket is the Ocean!" or "You can't sail your Dromond across the Eastern Lowlands!" and occasionally this degenerates into "Death Valardin" and "Thrax Smell!"
It is very loud at times, and Prince Samuel has given up on attempting diplomacy, but this is also a chance to teach our guest how to properly drink, tea and nice Oathland songs I have assured her she should sing to her father at maximum possible volume when she returns home.
Sometimes it is this small things in life.
It is very loud at times, and Prince Samuel has given up on attempting diplomacy, but this is also a chance to teach our guest how to properly drink, tea and nice Oathland songs I have assured her she should sing to her father at maximum possible volume when she returns home.
Sometimes it is this small things in life.
Written By Norwood
Feb. 13, 2019, 7:32 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Yes, I did attend the masquerade. No, I did not wear a mask. Times have been too unsettled lately for me to feel comfortable donning something which might obscure my vision.
Perhaps that is all just an excuse though. I found myself in a poor temper that night. Margeire makes such social gatherings more bearable, but her work tool her away that evening.
I will attempt to do better for the next party. I very much have been told off soundly for my rudeness.
That said, the individuals who attempted to pluck the flowers? I am not at all repentant about telling you off. Really, who goes into another man's garden and picks flowers? Barbaric.
Perhaps that is all just an excuse though. I found myself in a poor temper that night. Margeire makes such social gatherings more bearable, but her work tool her away that evening.
I will attempt to do better for the next party. I very much have been told off soundly for my rudeness.
That said, the individuals who attempted to pluck the flowers? I am not at all repentant about telling you off. Really, who goes into another man's garden and picks flowers? Barbaric.
Written By Kenna
Feb. 13, 2019, 7:25 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
I want to show my affection for my new family, but what do you get those who seem to have it all already?
The stuffy and the chair really were not my best effort. I'm going to have to keep thinking.
The stuffy and the chair really were not my best effort. I'm going to have to keep thinking.
Written By Jennyva
Feb. 13, 2019, 5:28 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
He is so demanding of his poetry.
One must stay on their toes if they are to please the King's tastes in prose.
One must stay on their toes if they are to please the King's tastes in prose.
Written By Jennyva
Feb. 13, 2019, 5:25 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
I believe in dragons, unicorns, tolerable husbands that are allowed to marry out of their house and other mythical creatures.
Written By Umbroise
Feb. 13, 2019, 3:59 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Preston
Your statements are kindly worded during this difficult time, Sir Preston. Of course, if it is in my power to do so, and with the grace of the gods, I will do my best to ensure that the Seraph of Highrock is duly honored, his remains returned into the embrace of his family, the Faith.
As to duels, what if one is a House Sword, and the other neither House Sword nor Champion? This is our dilemma. This is why we seek the path of diplomacy, rather than a duel. While I am certain Gloria's rites would be perfectly acceptable in some instances, in this instance, the proposal is not in accordance with the honored traditions of the Compact.
I shall take your wise and gentle words into consideration as we move forward in negotiations.
As to duels, what if one is a House Sword, and the other neither House Sword nor Champion? This is our dilemma. This is why we seek the path of diplomacy, rather than a duel. While I am certain Gloria's rites would be perfectly acceptable in some instances, in this instance, the proposal is not in accordance with the honored traditions of the Compact.
I shall take your wise and gentle words into consideration as we move forward in negotiations.
Written By Willow
Feb. 13, 2019, 2:39 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Marian
My Princess, if I know a love half as deep as the one your mourn, I will count myself fortunate, even if it only lasts a fortnight. It must be cold comfort if indeed you read this to hear that, but hopefully it is some small balm to the raw edges of your sundered heart. If ever you wish to call upon me, I will be there in a breath.
Written By Willow
Feb. 13, 2019, 1:30 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
This southern heat is barbaric. I despise how muggy it is.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 13, 2019, 12:12 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Oh no.
No no no.
NO.
Ianthe is -crawling-.
What the fuck I thought I had more time to baby proof shit.
NO. NO NO NO.
Quick, someone tell me how much it costs to raise everything in my shop by two feet. Higher counters! Tables!
-shit- I have -forges- and -hammers- within grabbing distance...!
FUCK.
SLOW DOWN, BABY. You're worse than your namesake!
No no no.
NO.
Ianthe is -crawling-.
What the fuck I thought I had more time to baby proof shit.
NO. NO NO NO.
Quick, someone tell me how much it costs to raise everything in my shop by two feet. Higher counters! Tables!
-shit- I have -forges- and -hammers- within grabbing distance...!
FUCK.
SLOW DOWN, BABY. You're worse than your namesake!
Written By Mirari
Feb. 12, 2019, 10:07 p.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
I feel as if I have just woken from a long dream... And things are slightly out of place...
Written By Mia
Feb. 12, 2019, 9:25 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
I've been asked by someone I care for quite deeply to provide assistance in finding her a partner, but in truth, I have never been asked to play the role of matchmaker where love might actually be the determining factor as opposed to a peripheral consideration. On the contrary, I am far more accustomed to working within the confines of politics, with needs dictated by the respective Houses involved and things like dowries and trade pacts to consider.
How in the world do people actually manage this?
How in the world do people actually manage this?
Written By Marian
Feb. 12, 2019, 8:26 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Fergus
Grief.
My washed out tears do not fall.
That lump in my throat strangles.
My marbled skin is cold like ice.
My deepest scars do not show.
I can no longer feel our first kiss.
You are gone.
Grief.
Your chest sits in the corner with the past.
Even your sword has passed to another.
Your clothes that have lost your scent.
Our bed no longer dips from your weight.
They don't know your voice.
Your portrait is a stranger.
Grief.
Everyone else moves on to the next.
The bans are read for new loves.
The cake tastes stale with broken promises.
Their happiness mocks me with mirrored lies.
Pity you didn't get to see what happened next.
They have forgotten.
Grief.
Moving on feels like a dagger in my heart.
My pillow no longer feels wet in the morning.
My eyes don't shine against the starry sky.
Possibilities become steel chains that bind.
False sympathy is an insult that digs softly.
Nothing is more than enough.
Grief.
Don't blame him for leaving.
Don't flinch when they look with his eyes.
Smile when they ask how you're doing.
Good morning is not an invitation to cry.
Don't scratch at your bleeding heart.
Apologies are forsaken.
Grief.
You will never be the same.
Happiness is a thorny rose.
You will wish to trade places.
This wasn't how the story goes.
You will review every single mistake.
No one takes that blame.
My washed out tears do not fall.
That lump in my throat strangles.
My marbled skin is cold like ice.
My deepest scars do not show.
I can no longer feel our first kiss.
You are gone.
Grief.
Your chest sits in the corner with the past.
Even your sword has passed to another.
Your clothes that have lost your scent.
Our bed no longer dips from your weight.
They don't know your voice.
Your portrait is a stranger.
Grief.
Everyone else moves on to the next.
The bans are read for new loves.
The cake tastes stale with broken promises.
Their happiness mocks me with mirrored lies.
Pity you didn't get to see what happened next.
They have forgotten.
Grief.
Moving on feels like a dagger in my heart.
My pillow no longer feels wet in the morning.
My eyes don't shine against the starry sky.
Possibilities become steel chains that bind.
False sympathy is an insult that digs softly.
Nothing is more than enough.
Grief.
Don't blame him for leaving.
Don't flinch when they look with his eyes.
Smile when they ask how you're doing.
Good morning is not an invitation to cry.
Don't scratch at your bleeding heart.
Apologies are forsaken.
Grief.
You will never be the same.
Happiness is a thorny rose.
You will wish to trade places.
This wasn't how the story goes.
You will review every single mistake.
No one takes that blame.
Written By Miranda
Feb. 12, 2019, 7:59 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Skye
There is nothing quite like a sea shanty to make a girl smile...
So having a celebration dinner aboard the Victorious, where we all sang and participated in making up verses on the spot?
Loved it.
"We all sang songs
Using words meritorious
Because we were sailing
On a ship called Victorious!"
This was a great idea, Baroness Blackshore!
So having a celebration dinner aboard the Victorious, where we all sang and participated in making up verses on the spot?
Loved it.
"We all sang songs
Using words meritorious
Because we were sailing
On a ship called Victorious!"
This was a great idea, Baroness Blackshore!
Written By Peri
Feb. 12, 2019, 7:46 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
When I am in the archives for a long time, I have to get up and walk around. I can't stand holding so still for so long. Yesterday I wandered past the poetry shelf and found a book so compelling that I couldn't budge myself until I had read the whole thing. The book is filed under Eurisi Poetry in the Scholars' archives. It is called "Allanruar Arirh, The Soul of a River". The poems are by Muhah Saaec a silk merchant who traveled the world and who sent letters faithfully to his love Gaston Jejun, Baron of Glaintin. I cried at the end. I will not say why into the whites because I do not want to spoil the story.
My research yesterday was lackluster and fruitless. I didn't find what I was looking for. I almost wasted a an entire day. I am so grateful to Brother Branan, whoever you are, for translating this.
My research yesterday was lackluster and fruitless. I didn't find what I was looking for. I almost wasted a an entire day. I am so grateful to Brother Branan, whoever you are, for translating this.
Written By Alaric
Feb. 12, 2019, 6:11 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Tikva
I'm still waiting for an epic verse about a scaffold.
Written By Monique
Feb. 12, 2019, 5:57 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Would you like to participate in a collaborative story with the infamous Minx of the Marches? It's a very particular project, near and dear to my heart. Not for those with delicate sensitivities, but those with brave constitution ought to send a messenger with their interest!
Some familiar knowledge of at least one of the Gods of the Pantheon is a must with this particular collaboration!
Compensation offered, and of course, a copy of the finished work upon completion.
Secrecy is essential until publication.
Some familiar knowledge of at least one of the Gods of the Pantheon is a must with this particular collaboration!
Compensation offered, and of course, a copy of the finished work upon completion.
Secrecy is essential until publication.
Written By Miranda
Feb. 12, 2019, 1:36 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Grief.
It is a vicious enemy.
It lingers well beyond its time and does not let up.
It sneaks up on you when you think you've dealt with it, rearing its ugly head to overwhelm you.
People try to help. "Don't dwell on it," they say. "Don't let it change you," they say. "This isn't like you."
No. It's not.
It's grief.
It grips at you with its claws and doesn't let go.
It hides in shadows, waiting until you least expect it and then it lunges at you, tearing your sanity from you.
It rips your heart open and consumes your thoughts.
I should have... we could have... why didn't I...
The anger fades to incredible sadness, of things you can no longer do.
I miss his voice, his laughter, the annoying way he was always right.
I miss the way his arms felt around me and the gentleness he'd show when I was hurting.
I miss talking about everything. I miss fighting with him.
I miss the passion. I miss his presence. I miss the arrogance.
I miss him. I miss HIM. I. Miss. Him.
It eats at me, this grief, and makes me feel weak.
There is no comfort. Just memories that make me smile and wistful, wishing for more, even the parts I could have done without.
There is no room for others to offer consolations and criticisms.
There are days when I doubt he is gone. And there are days when it is so obvious he is that the pain is worse than a knife being twisted into a wound.
Grief. It is the bane of my existence.
Grief - it is my personal monster to face.
It is a vicious enemy.
It lingers well beyond its time and does not let up.
It sneaks up on you when you think you've dealt with it, rearing its ugly head to overwhelm you.
People try to help. "Don't dwell on it," they say. "Don't let it change you," they say. "This isn't like you."
No. It's not.
It's grief.
It grips at you with its claws and doesn't let go.
It hides in shadows, waiting until you least expect it and then it lunges at you, tearing your sanity from you.
It rips your heart open and consumes your thoughts.
I should have... we could have... why didn't I...
The anger fades to incredible sadness, of things you can no longer do.
I miss his voice, his laughter, the annoying way he was always right.
I miss the way his arms felt around me and the gentleness he'd show when I was hurting.
I miss talking about everything. I miss fighting with him.
I miss the passion. I miss his presence. I miss the arrogance.
I miss him. I miss HIM. I. Miss. Him.
It eats at me, this grief, and makes me feel weak.
There is no comfort. Just memories that make me smile and wistful, wishing for more, even the parts I could have done without.
There is no room for others to offer consolations and criticisms.
There are days when I doubt he is gone. And there are days when it is so obvious he is that the pain is worse than a knife being twisted into a wound.
Grief. It is the bane of my existence.
Grief - it is my personal monster to face.
Written By Rysen
Feb. 12, 2019, 1:09 p.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
I have arrived in Arx, and begun to explore the city, though I am feeling very out of place, and sick at heart for the wooded vales of my home. I have sent a message to the Nightingale of the Bard’s College in order to learn more about the organization – presumptuous, perhaps, considering I am not a trained performer, and yet I have absolute faith in the peerless verse of my muse. Hopefully it will be an avenue to learn more about the city, its history, and the intriguing inhabitants I have glimpsed in passing, dressed beyond my wildest fancy, and often in possession of a trailing retinue that, back home, would have set the village to the highest degree of excitement. My other interests, of course, are not far from my mind, and where better than the Bard’s College to find the first steps toward uncovering those secrets? Upon leaving, my brother mentioned that Lady Fianna frequented the city. I hope to contact her soon in the hopes that she might be able to help me find suitable work, and, perhaps, learn how to dress and act so as not to embarrass myself in this new environment, so different from the military camps and small country inns with which I am familiar.
Written By Vittorio
Feb. 12, 2019, 11:55 a.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Cristoph
I recently attended the midnight masquerade the Duke attended, and I must say he did a remarkable job of organizing it. I look forward to any future masquerades the Duke has planned.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.