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Written By Georgine

Jan. 22, 2021, 3:26 p.m.(10/18/1014 AR)

Was it rubicund or cupridium? Too many thoughts to write just one, but there's the attempt. The last days of Collection preparation are always so dizzyingly busy.

Written By Medeia

Jan. 22, 2021, 8:32 a.m.(10/18/1014 AR)

The unknown is uncomfortable.
Even a terrible thing like war can become comfortable when it is all someone has known. If surviving has been the primary focus of someone's years, living can be uncomfortable.
To one who has subsisted on scraps, a proper meal can seem lavish. Abundance becomes obscene to those who have only known lean times.
Tradition is comfortable. And, Lagoma forgive me, change is not. Because even change for the better is an unknown for many. And how do we know if a change is for the better? It takes time and faith that some may not have, or feel they have. And some change for the better is harder before it gets easier.
A person needs to feel they are of value, set to some purpose. So they spend their years training - hopefully in areas both of interest and use, but one does not always have the luxury of pursuing interest. If change comes that takes away their perceived usefulness, that demands they now train in new areas, some may be resentful of being made to feel they no longer have value, or of having to take the role of a novice after being expert.
When we employ diplomacy, we need send diplomats who understand this and the person or people being negotiated with. You cannot offer peace to the warmonger - they do not know peace. They do not have a talent for it. Peace is a change that is difficult to see is for the better because peace requires hard work and time invested in learning how to live in peace.
And when a decision is made based on survival? The benefit must eventually increase. Surviving needs to become living. Tolerance needs to become acceptance. Change is not just for the ones we negotiate with. It is for all of us.

Written By Dio

Jan. 22, 2021, 12:17 a.m.(10/17/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Savio

Before we set sail for Tremorus, Seraph Stilio of Pieros and Archscholar Sina offered benedictions on Journal Day. The Seraph is not bookish. He is brash and large, with a braided beard. He is beloved by his people, and his speech was eloquent in its simplicity. Shortly before he spoke the gathered crowd asked for a song. The seraph declined, and Whisper Selene offered one in his stead. In that setting, before all of our great trials, the beautiful voice of Selene united us, and fixed our imagination on all we might accomplish.

The next evening, I was preparing to extort the truth from a traitorous dog at the Hatted Rabbit Tavern in the Grand Bazaar. I was shocked to look up and see Princess Adrienne Pravus in company. For those familiar with the Princess, whose energy and virtues inspire deep respect, it is probably not hard to imagine how I felt about bringing a treacherous cur to beg for his life in her presence, and force him to make immediate amends for the slights he'd done me and the sailors of Ischia, or suffer an ignominious, agonizing and gruesome death.

The mood was transformed in an instant by the Bard Savio Pontelaeus, whose wit and song sparked joy wherever it was heard. He is a virtuoso in the arts of improvisation, and his songs seem effortless, yet are pleasing and exciting to hear. But I was wrong to think that I should be in debt to Savio solely for his talent in music, for not long after his performance in the Hatted Rabbit, I was engaged in a fight to the death. Savio's rapier stuck away a blade that otherwise would have opened my throat. His physical reflexes vie with his wit in sharpness. Little recompense it may be to the talented musician and duelist, as the vast horde of those who wish me dead now howl for his blood, but he has earned my gratitude and respect.

Written By Piccola

Jan. 21, 2021, 10:36 p.m.(10/17/1014 AR)

Surviving is a strange thing, wise general.

We valorize and even deify survival. We talk of it as if it were the only point to existence. That it is the only thing that matters, the acme of one's skill at life.

How quaint.

Written By Clarisse

Jan. 21, 2021, 10:21 p.m.(10/17/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Zakhar

Emporium of Curiousity

Zakhar's designs are beautiful, definitely a talented crafter, who I look forward to purchasing new pieces from over time. So far I have been able to have a chained bookcase and wardrobe built by him. And I could not be happier with his skill.

Written By Eirene

Jan. 21, 2021, 2:17 p.m.(10/16/1014 AR)

Setting sail and spending time away from my little family is hard. I've gotten fucking soft in my 'old age' and motherhood. Used to be I'd drop off and go on a mission without blinking an eye or worrying who might miss me or be waiting for me to come back. Can't do that anymore. Too many souls would miss me if I didn't return, and I feel a nagging guilt at that. It's part of why I never wanted to marry or have kids when I was younger; I'm glad I changed my mind though.

Written By Selene

Jan. 21, 2021, 1:44 p.m.(10/16/1014 AR)

It's curious to me to see where my work ends up. Who wears it, who makes such beautiful things sublime by their creative spark.

Written By Lucita

Jan. 21, 2021, 12:49 p.m.(10/16/1014 AR)

Dreams of crystal caverns, of serene blue grottos with glowing fish... I dreamed of Saikland.

Written By Thea

Jan. 21, 2021, 8:40 a.m.(10/16/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Malcolm

My patron. My friend....

After a spar of blades, yes blades. You heard me right. Im onto you. Not even a little fooled anymore. Im not sure if I would believed if I said. But it was both honor and a surprise. And it further solidifies my choice in coming to you as my patron. I have much to learn..

Written By Aconite

Jan. 21, 2021, 8:40 a.m.(10/16/1014 AR)

A question asked of me the other day has had me thinking...

I was not quite twelve when I met Uudi, the woman who taught me how to fashion my hair in my favorite style. I was at the market seeking something pretty, some small bauble to buy with my earnings when I stumbled upon some rare traders from Eurus who were there to sell their goods.

Beside myself, I hurried to them and without thinking began to speak to them in their native tongue. After a moment of surprise it was the old woman, Uudi, who began to talk back with me.

I was curious. I wanted to know so much.. too much.. a condition I still suffer from. Uudi only laughed and while I know she never told me much of Eurus but she told me much about her family.

Uudi was ancient, so far as I could tell back then, missing a few teeth with short white hair cropped close to her head and so many wrinkles I would never have been able to tell how she felt. That is if it weren't for the bright jade eyes that always sparkled with laughter and a small sweet voice that made me feel welcomed.

When I asked about her hair she told me she had grown too old and her hair too thin for the magnificent styles she favored. I was, of course, bubbling with curiosity and so I asked her what they were but rather than tell me. She offered to show me...

For hours that seemed far too short, I sat with Uudi, while hands with skin as worn and scarred as leather and knotted knuckles that must have hurt while so worked through my hair.

Patiently with comb and fingers, she wove my hair into many coils while telling me of her daughters and their children. The stories never told me much of their life only of the people. And hummed songs to me in wordless homage to where she called home. I never thought to question her, nor if the stories were real or made simply to make me smile. I could not stop.

This happened many times, every few days for the few weeks a year she was in Tor, for the few years she came. I would come seeking a new comb or one of her brilliantly patterned pouches or skirts. I would close my eyes and listen to Uudi talk and pretend just for a few moments that she was my Grandmother too. That the people she spoke of were my family as she smoothed and twisted each coil, so enrapt that barely noted any tug or snarl.

The last year Uudi and I spent time together is when she taught me to fashion the styles for myself with careful patient warmth and laughter to soothe my frustrations when my early attempts failed. Patiently she taught me each technique until I could do each almost as good as she did..

The next year I could not find her. I wondered often what happened to her but try as I might I could not feel sorrow that she was no longer there. Only gratitude for what time I had had and what she had taught me.

I wonder sometimes if that is part o why I like the markets so or if that is why I have always seen a merchants wares as a part of who they are. That I am wearing a part of them and being a vessel for expression in this world. Just like I wonder if this is my favorite hairstyle because it is so terribly practical or because it's an expression of everything one ancient Eurusi trader gave me in so very few but precious moments.

Written By Ramona

Jan. 20, 2021, 5:27 p.m.(10/14/1014 AR)

We must look at where we are and who we are, now, in this moment. The 'what-if' is a dangerous distraction. We must replace it with what-can and what-will.

Written By Raziel

Jan. 20, 2021, 2:41 p.m.(10/14/1014 AR)

His Majesty, King Alaric III Grayson.

I remember a time when these words were spoken by more than the supporters of foreign invasion. I remember when he received my oath as King's Own. I remember when he released me from it.

But such is the way of service to the Crown. It is not the head that bears it that commands such loyalty. It is the station itself.

The names may change. The Compact remains.

Written By Svana

Jan. 20, 2021, 10:22 a.m.(10/14/1014 AR)

I am so pleased that people have come to me for designing scents! It's such a passion of mine, and I love seeing peoples' faces when they smell a scent for the first time and it's something that encapsulates their essence. I was worried that people would not take me seriously as an artist for being known for scents when I'm a Master Tailor, but I have many talents. It's not my fault if people don't see all of them.

Written By Lisebet

Jan. 20, 2021, 8:27 a.m.(10/14/1014 AR)

I do appreciate the interesting games that different cultures play. I might be terrible at the game, but that doesn't mean I can't learn to be better.

Well.

I can certainly try.

I have to say it was lovely to visit a bit with some of my friends from Valardin, folks I really must make an effort to spend more time with. Oathlands hospitality stands strong.

Just please don't ask me about any wheelbarrows.

Written By Felicia

Jan. 20, 2021, 8:05 a.m.(10/14/1014 AR)

It is a sad thing, that we face the prospect of an attempted invasion from our former King. That where the Compact could be made mightier with the inclusion of a free Dune Kingdom we face a conqueror against his own people. Instead of rejoicing for the Compact's achievements under the guidance of his son we face a greater threat than those who have come before.

I mourn for those who are going to be forced to fight us under the influence of Mutay'a'sib and his Magisters. I mourn for the lives that will be lost in this conflict- but the guidance of the Faith is clear. Our oaths to Alaric IV take primacy, and for the sake of the future of the Compact we cannot consign ourselves to chains even when the one extending them is our former liege.

I pray that he might yet come to his senses, even as I prepare for war. My duty is clear, but this is a war I do not relish. May those who die return to the Wheel swiftly, and Mother willing, be reborn in peaceful times.

Written By Medeia

Jan. 20, 2021, 12:56 a.m.(10/13/1014 AR)

The bandages bracing my knee and wrist come off in the next day or so, and I'll be glad for being able to maneuver stairs properly again. Also, for being able to get out of the house (the one visit I made across the square required a carriage; absurd, but true). Ironic that doing the things that needed to be done is what now prevents me from doing the things that need to be done. I have meetings to hold, plans to set in motion, events to host!

This time cooped up has given me too much time to think about my parents. I usually tend to forget they exist most days, until something will remind me and I'll have a pang of sadness or jealousy or anger. And then I start to worry about me as a parent. I love children; I'm excellent with babies, and plenty of people have voiced their belief I'd be a good mother. I know I can care for them. But caring for and parenting are very different things. Aren't they? Can one be a good parent and not care for their children, or care for their children and be a terrible parent? It makes me wonder if my mother and father still care. I've been encouraged, twice or more times now, to write that letter to my mother so I don't come to regret not doing it. I don't even know if I expect a response.

Gods. I pray when I have children that I never make them question that they are loved, never make them feel cast out, never choose someone who hurt them over them. Sometimes I think uncle Razi had the right idea becoming Godsworn, not having to worry about marriage and children. But, I also remember a time not too long ago when I was afraid marriage would be the worst fate and turned up my nose - so far, I was blessedly wrong. Perhaps my fear of being a terrible mother will prove baseless, too.

I really need to get out of the house.

Written By Natasha

Jan. 19, 2021, 11:04 p.m.(10/13/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Alistair

I must be having a prolonged fever dream today, because I thought I saw the High Inquisitor smile.

And this was after I thought I somehow set him on fire, then tried to smother him with my coat.

Written By Emberly

Jan. 19, 2021, 10:36 p.m.(10/13/1014 AR)

Ode to Duty,
Duty of honor
Duty of sword
Duty of house
Duty of word.

Duty to God
Duty to Love,
Duty to Truth,
Duty, that none can afford.

Ode to Duty,
where all else fails.
Its Duty to one's self
where Duty prevails.

What is Duty
but a call so true
when judgment falls through.

What is Duty
but a footstep in the sand
a steadfast ship ready to sail.
a knights weapon in hand.

Hold true to your Duty.
Hold strong, Hold fast
For only Duty stays until
the very last.

Written By Piccola

Jan. 19, 2021, 8:17 p.m.(10/13/1014 AR)

From afar, I remember seeing the City in its splendor.

I saw the efforts of generations of countless people to change the land into something crafted. Of stone, of steel, of timber and construction, of all the hallmarks of that which the Compact holds against its neighbors and its less-fortunate denizens, all creating a small space in which to crowd. I witnessed the expressions of ingenuity and might looming tall to cast shadows across the nearby fields, as the sun dipped low towards the horizon. But none of this could shut out the inexorable coming of the spring, just as the night cannot stop the dawn.

The sun shone; the grass revived; and the animals and insects which shielded themselves from the deadly days of winter slowly made their way out. And everything seemed to be all right once more, even as men manufactured from behind those walls the means of their own captivity.

Written By Ivy

Jan. 19, 2021, 4 p.m.(10/12/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Malcolm

It's good work. For the person that lacked the funds, or the materials, it could be life or death.

Never let anyone belittle your charity, not even you.

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