Written By Aconite
May 29, 2021, 11:43 p.m.(7/24/1015 AR)
How can I express my overwhelming joy on the last few nights of the festival. I have learned so much about so many things in such a short amount of time. An idea born through a late-night conversation with a good friend.
The opening dance set the tone for the drama and flair, and unexpected intimacy of the Rythm of the World Festival that Whisper house graciously gave me hosting privileges. Each performance giving a glimpse into new worlds and the people who have shaped them. From the moving songs of Tremorous sung by Lord Savio and Lord Orland and the bone-deep performance of Cesare Whisper, Nina Autnumndals fabulous music encouraging moving and dance and even a performance from Legend Gianna. These are some notable mentions but almost every performance gave those enrapt throngs of people a story to tell and hopefully curiosity sparked into broadening their horizons.
There were so many new dresses and mesmerizing fashion rooted in tradition and dripping in inspiration. I regret I only had time to see it in passing, I would have dearly loved to hang on to the words of Bard Autumndale, Duchess Isabeau, and taken the time to really absorb Savio's flowing outfit. I may have already plied Princess Graziella for the pattern for her beautiful dress. But I am remiss, I am leaving out many more names that deserve mentioning.
But let me make special note of Caprice, who I think could ply even the hardest hearts with a few drapes of silk. Master Zakhar who not only made the crowns and scarves but also this honey silk outfit that I'm determined to live the rest of my life in. And my own brother Orick, who created drums and this delicious scent that reminds me so much of home.
Even in the tragedies, they came together, I cannot wait to see Vashtalyn truly perform. Without Sir Merek and Lady Eswynd, I foresee things would have gone very differently. They may have well saved our little festival.
I cannot claim even a margin of the credit that is due here but it was my pleasure to work with the blessed of Jayus in the Festival and the Auction which has raised a considerable sum that will be distributed happily amidst charities.
I shall float rather than sail back to Tor this week. Thankful for the great generosity of those that have given of themselves to shine light into the lives of others.
Finally, can I say to see people from Royalty to Commoner in the same space, humbled before the gifts of Jayus, is a truly religious experience.
The opening dance set the tone for the drama and flair, and unexpected intimacy of the Rythm of the World Festival that Whisper house graciously gave me hosting privileges. Each performance giving a glimpse into new worlds and the people who have shaped them. From the moving songs of Tremorous sung by Lord Savio and Lord Orland and the bone-deep performance of Cesare Whisper, Nina Autnumndals fabulous music encouraging moving and dance and even a performance from Legend Gianna. These are some notable mentions but almost every performance gave those enrapt throngs of people a story to tell and hopefully curiosity sparked into broadening their horizons.
There were so many new dresses and mesmerizing fashion rooted in tradition and dripping in inspiration. I regret I only had time to see it in passing, I would have dearly loved to hang on to the words of Bard Autumndale, Duchess Isabeau, and taken the time to really absorb Savio's flowing outfit. I may have already plied Princess Graziella for the pattern for her beautiful dress. But I am remiss, I am leaving out many more names that deserve mentioning.
But let me make special note of Caprice, who I think could ply even the hardest hearts with a few drapes of silk. Master Zakhar who not only made the crowns and scarves but also this honey silk outfit that I'm determined to live the rest of my life in. And my own brother Orick, who created drums and this delicious scent that reminds me so much of home.
Even in the tragedies, they came together, I cannot wait to see Vashtalyn truly perform. Without Sir Merek and Lady Eswynd, I foresee things would have gone very differently. They may have well saved our little festival.
I cannot claim even a margin of the credit that is due here but it was my pleasure to work with the blessed of Jayus in the Festival and the Auction which has raised a considerable sum that will be distributed happily amidst charities.
I shall float rather than sail back to Tor this week. Thankful for the great generosity of those that have given of themselves to shine light into the lives of others.
Finally, can I say to see people from Royalty to Commoner in the same space, humbled before the gifts of Jayus, is a truly religious experience.
Written By Maren
May 29, 2021, 10:22 p.m.(7/23/1015 AR)
I contemplate the twilight. I have always loved the night's kiss to the drowsing sun, the labors of the day flowing seamlessly into the blossoming energy and creation of the night. Where the embers struck to light the evening lanterns or bonfires appear almost magical, dancing beauties in their own right. It is a time between worlds, and the time that when I honor my beloved ones lost to me that I have sent the missives on the water, candles flickering in their small boats, until the water claimed them.
I remember the first days of remembrance on a shore that felt wrong, smelled wrong, even the light of the awakening stars was all in the wrong placements. I am no longer ashamed to admit that the gusts of salt wind dried tears of fear and grief and loneliness on my cheeks as I sent light and boats for my brothers, knowing that I could not send letters. Would not see the familiar and distinct script of each of their hand in return. At first they were sent out of longing. As years went on, apology for dishonoring tradition. As more years went on, they were a bridge, a hope to instill some feeling of kinship and interest and connection in my daughter for a place and people that it seemed impossible she would ever meet.
Now my feet rest on familiar sands, though it is my body that feels wrong, grown older and weaker where the feet that once delighted in walking the water's edge were young and strong. It seems strange that I survive, without the ones I missed so much, as lost to me here as they were in Weijin. Sometimes our journeys mark us in a way that will not allow our full return, even if we never truly arrived at the first destination. And I must accept that it is not just me that wanders this in-between place, but I have my greatest treasure travelling her own roads within it, in a very different experience than mine.
Tonight, on this familiar and strange sand, with my present and memory veiling the sea calling to me, and the most beloved of cities behind me, I will send another little boat and light of remembrance to someone lost to me forever, across the waters. On this day of your birth, Beloved, how I yearn for just one more time to be greeted with your smile and your caress as the sun rises. But I also am buoyed by knowing of the lives we helped to shape and all the fledglings we nudged to take flight. Our joy in taking from the fires of our passion and our determination a spark that may grow into just what the greater world will need someday, if that is where her path will lead her. I think every day of the gift of being able to at least touch the lives of my nephews, nieces, and their children, knowing that you had a hand in it as well. Selfishly I wish that you were here to meet them as well; but I understand it was not your path. I believe the mark of greatest love to be the ability to take strength in the time that you hold it in your grasp, and to not dishonor it with the inability to keep moving forward along one's path once like all things in this life, it is reclaimed. Set free.
But still, Beloved. I cannot promise that there will be no need for the soft hand of the summer sea's wind to brush away tears. Of joy, for the very ability to stand here, now, certainly. But also of solitude. Uncertainty. Grief that lessens but surely will never truly disappear. And hope, that the strength that you helped build in me will allow me to build more, love more, guide more until my last breath. That, I think, is the legacy of love. May I help give that, to those yet remaining to me.
I remember the first days of remembrance on a shore that felt wrong, smelled wrong, even the light of the awakening stars was all in the wrong placements. I am no longer ashamed to admit that the gusts of salt wind dried tears of fear and grief and loneliness on my cheeks as I sent light and boats for my brothers, knowing that I could not send letters. Would not see the familiar and distinct script of each of their hand in return. At first they were sent out of longing. As years went on, apology for dishonoring tradition. As more years went on, they were a bridge, a hope to instill some feeling of kinship and interest and connection in my daughter for a place and people that it seemed impossible she would ever meet.
Now my feet rest on familiar sands, though it is my body that feels wrong, grown older and weaker where the feet that once delighted in walking the water's edge were young and strong. It seems strange that I survive, without the ones I missed so much, as lost to me here as they were in Weijin. Sometimes our journeys mark us in a way that will not allow our full return, even if we never truly arrived at the first destination. And I must accept that it is not just me that wanders this in-between place, but I have my greatest treasure travelling her own roads within it, in a very different experience than mine.
Tonight, on this familiar and strange sand, with my present and memory veiling the sea calling to me, and the most beloved of cities behind me, I will send another little boat and light of remembrance to someone lost to me forever, across the waters. On this day of your birth, Beloved, how I yearn for just one more time to be greeted with your smile and your caress as the sun rises. But I also am buoyed by knowing of the lives we helped to shape and all the fledglings we nudged to take flight. Our joy in taking from the fires of our passion and our determination a spark that may grow into just what the greater world will need someday, if that is where her path will lead her. I think every day of the gift of being able to at least touch the lives of my nephews, nieces, and their children, knowing that you had a hand in it as well. Selfishly I wish that you were here to meet them as well; but I understand it was not your path. I believe the mark of greatest love to be the ability to take strength in the time that you hold it in your grasp, and to not dishonor it with the inability to keep moving forward along one's path once like all things in this life, it is reclaimed. Set free.
But still, Beloved. I cannot promise that there will be no need for the soft hand of the summer sea's wind to brush away tears. Of joy, for the very ability to stand here, now, certainly. But also of solitude. Uncertainty. Grief that lessens but surely will never truly disappear. And hope, that the strength that you helped build in me will allow me to build more, love more, guide more until my last breath. That, I think, is the legacy of love. May I help give that, to those yet remaining to me.
Written By Isabeau
May 29, 2021, 7:47 p.m.(7/23/1015 AR)
My to-do list has grown very long. Most imminent on my mind is the Valardin feast in a month. It is bound to be a lot of fun, so I hope people will come. I think I shall host a smaller picnic soon for people to come and run the Gauntlet for bragging rights. I wonder who might show?
Written By Cambria
May 29, 2021, 6:39 p.m.(7/23/1015 AR)
Growing up in Ostria, I discovered early on that I possess a love of history, and the history of my people. It was passed down to me through stories told by the older generations that covered all manner of things: love, tragedy, hardship, as well as the comedic and absurd. For example, my grandfather loved to tell a story about his grandfather's rivalry with another man. In particular, the 'villain' of the tale purchased a very large horse and loved to show it off at every opportunity, and my great-great grandfather wrote a scathing journal about the fellow and what he clearly lacked and was trying to make up for with the purchase of this horse. The tale itself, and the journal in particular, still amuse me to this day, but the thing is, all these wonderful stories came from people who were before my time. I never knew them physically, at yet, I came to know them all the same.
You see, our family, friends, even our community, they all leave impressions upon us - for good or ill.
It's up to you to decide what the stories of your life will weave into the tapestry of others, long after you're gone.
You see, our family, friends, even our community, they all leave impressions upon us - for good or ill.
It's up to you to decide what the stories of your life will weave into the tapestry of others, long after you're gone.
Written By Cambria
May 29, 2021, 6:11 p.m.(7/23/1015 AR)
Save the old stories, and the new ones, too. While you're at it, create some of your own.
Written By Lianne
May 29, 2021, 4:27 p.m.(7/23/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Viviana
What breaks your heart and what brightens your day.
Written By Giada
May 29, 2021, 11:18 a.m.(7/23/1015 AR)
It's an interesting thing comparing stasis and change. Some crave the unknown, and others need the past. The majority of people sit in the middle, stradling the line between the comfort of the familiar and the creative fuel of change. It's said, after all, that necessity is the mother of all inventions, and no change happens without reason.
The same is true of institutions. The most glorious and true of Arvum are lured into stasis, often in the form of honour or defense. The definition of role in and of itself is a position of latent stasis. If an entire life is dedicated to one pursuit, the refusal to waver represents an unwillingness to change. Of course, the abandoning of oaths are an affront to the gods, so even in devotion there is stasis used to entrench honour.
There is nothing without reflection, a second side to even our most noble actions. What is left but to find our Balance?
The same is true of institutions. The most glorious and true of Arvum are lured into stasis, often in the form of honour or defense. The definition of role in and of itself is a position of latent stasis. If an entire life is dedicated to one pursuit, the refusal to waver represents an unwillingness to change. Of course, the abandoning of oaths are an affront to the gods, so even in devotion there is stasis used to entrench honour.
There is nothing without reflection, a second side to even our most noble actions. What is left but to find our Balance?
Written By Quenia
May 29, 2021, 11:04 a.m.(7/23/1015 AR)
There are strange things afoot that I wish I could talk about, but can't at the moment. Those things are accompanied by a longing and yearning for a particular thing and dreams which plague me night after night.
I'll be fine. I'll endure. I always do. But there's a certain frustration that accompanies a new puzzle to be solved, that doesn't want to be unlocked.
I did at least get to learn something about myself. There's always something to that; although I'm not sure how I feel about that either, and maybe makes me a bit wary of other things to come.
We shall see what will unfold and what that will mean moving forward.
I'll be fine. I'll endure. I always do. But there's a certain frustration that accompanies a new puzzle to be solved, that doesn't want to be unlocked.
I did at least get to learn something about myself. There's always something to that; although I'm not sure how I feel about that either, and maybe makes me a bit wary of other things to come.
We shall see what will unfold and what that will mean moving forward.
Written By Clarisse
May 29, 2021, 11:02 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
For the longest time it has just been nightmares, memories of the past that has shaken me to my core, and then nightmares of my brother falling, just like mother had, but now it's all too real. Now Teague lays more helpless than I have ever seen him, and I am unsure what to do. He has always been my strength and now I must be his. Right before he was attacked, he had named me as Voice of our family. Did he see this coming? Was there something our family did. And now Teague is the only one who knows where Tigarus is, and he is fallen ill too? Could they both be afflicted by the same thing, and without being able to see Tigarus, I have no idea, how dire the situation is. I simply cannot loose Teague or Tigarus. They have been my life and protectors for so long, and now I must find a way to be their Voice, when they have been mine. I must be strong for them, and it is thanks to all the support of those lives we have touched, that I can take a breath and I can see the chance to find a cure and find the one responsible. I cannot thank everyone who has reached out to us enough, or express to each one, how much this means to me. I will graciously accept each suggestion and all the aid to help my brother.
Written By Amari
May 29, 2021, 10:04 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
I'm away soon, and shall be gone for the remainder of the summer and probably much of autumn. Maybe the beginning of winter too. Nothing ever goes smoothly or to schedule, does it?
Arx will surely be fine in my absence (unless it's burned down, or the Bay of Thrax boils away, or foreign legions lay siege). It'll be fine.
Arx will surely be fine in my absence (unless it's burned down, or the Bay of Thrax boils away, or foreign legions lay siege). It'll be fine.
Written By Viviana
May 29, 2021, 9:38 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
... Oh dear. See what I mean.
What two questions would you ask in order to learn the most about someone?
What two questions would you ask in order to learn the most about someone?
Written By Viviana
May 29, 2021, 9:20 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
once you answer, I'll stop asking (so many) questions.
Written By Amari
May 29, 2021, 9:11 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
I've been collecting pebbles, rocks and small stones of all kinds. I nearly have enough now, but if you stumble over a curious one in your travels and read this, send it to me if you like. It needn't be precious, really.
Written By Claude
May 29, 2021, 4:14 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
The large commission has been completed. The client expressed his satisfaction therefore I am satisfied. Another small commission follows, but it will be seen by many more people so perhaps there is greater pressure. My personal project is nearing completion as well, finally, there is paint perpetually stuck beneath my finger nails. I need to meet with a representative of the Knights of Solace and proceed from there.
Written By Cesare
May 29, 2021, 2:13 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
It was a wonderful night! Apprentice Whisper Aconite's event was absolutely unrivalled in its magnificence. Those who missed out on this afternoon's performances were deprived of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sample some of the finest cultural fare that Arx has to offer. Lord Savio and Lord Orland's profoundly moving Arakkoan song of Tremorous brought tears - quite literally - to the eyes of onlookers. I was proud and honored to perform my own song, a tribute to my youth in Setarco, which I do not exaggerate when I say that I worked day and night for weeks on. As anyone who knows me well knows, my songs are by far what I consider the greatest gift I have to give to the world, and any opportunity I have to present them to an audience is an extremely important event for me. I'm so fortunate that my humble work was so graciously received and that I had such wonderful friends and support as Lord Savio and Lord Orland, and their very tall, beautiful, and kind cousin Lady Cassiopeia, as well as my fantastic and supportive patron Princess Graziella, to witness my performance. The Princess disappeared afterwards, but that's just how she is, she probably went looking for a shell she could hear the sea in. She does that, you know? Collects things. I think she collected me too, but she's lovely. Wait, what was I saying? Oh yes, I was also fortunate to speak with some interesting new people I had never met, to witness some incredible Eurusi dances, and then we all went back to Savio's place - Lord Savio's place, and we had some of the most astonishing whiskey. So if my diction is a bit less elaborate than usual you'll have to forgive me. Miss Petal of the Tangled Skein came to see us, too. What a sweet being. Have you ever noticed how many lovely people there are?
I don't think I'll ever sing that song again. Some songs are only meant to be sung once. Especially when they're written to serve a particular purpose. I got it out of me just as sure as you rip out a tooth, and now I just have to wait for the next one to take its place. Whoever missed it, it's gone! Really, the whole process is painful, so the tooth metaphor is apt. The only time it doesn't hurt is when it's in my mouth.
Oh, maybe scratch that out. No, never mind, I'm going to sleep. It doesn't matter.
I don't think I'll ever sing that song again. Some songs are only meant to be sung once. Especially when they're written to serve a particular purpose. I got it out of me just as sure as you rip out a tooth, and now I just have to wait for the next one to take its place. Whoever missed it, it's gone! Really, the whole process is painful, so the tooth metaphor is apt. The only time it doesn't hurt is when it's in my mouth.
Oh, maybe scratch that out. No, never mind, I'm going to sleep. It doesn't matter.
Written By Raimon
May 29, 2021, 1:46 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
A triptych of Haiku occurred at the Zen Garden:
"The cloying moist heat;
It sticks even to fingers . . .
Wash insides with Tea!"
One moonbeam beckons;
Summer insects pause, quiet . . .
Make Still, the Waters
A long way from home;
Forty long years of learning . . .
What treasures, betimes!
"The cloying moist heat;
It sticks even to fingers . . .
Wash insides with Tea!"
One moonbeam beckons;
Summer insects pause, quiet . . .
Make Still, the Waters
A long way from home;
Forty long years of learning . . .
What treasures, betimes!
Written By Rosalind
May 28, 2021, 5:38 p.m.(7/21/1015 AR)
No one can't say that my family isn't welcoming. It was nice to have a gathering in our home. Drinking, friends, uh----splits? Anyway! So much fun!
Written By Sydney
May 28, 2021, 4:05 p.m.(7/21/1015 AR)
Getting my hands dirty again feels good. That's not to say I've managed to yank my nose out from my stack of dry-as-thrice-picked-bones annals and records, but the occasional change of pace to keep myself limber is welcome indeed.
My thanks to Lords Kennex and Clearlake for indulging me.
My thanks to Lords Kennex and Clearlake for indulging me.
Written By Medeia
May 28, 2021, 3:08 p.m.(7/21/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Viviana
I like the idea of aggressive gift giving. It does not work well when the gift is a bottle of wine, as my gifts so often are. However, I think this fits well into my general belief that sometimes nice things should be done as surprisingly as possible to brighten someone's day.
I do hope whoever I next gift a knife has good reflexes.
I do hope whoever I next gift a knife has good reflexes.
Written By Malcolm
May 27, 2021, 10:54 p.m.(7/19/1015 AR)
If you're gonna drink, drink. Don't drink and do dumb things like trying to do the splits on a dare. You're going to have a bad time.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.