Written By Revell
April 16, 2020, 3:06 p.m.(2/16/1013 AR)
Hi Scholar,
I know I've been very open about my distaste for charity in the past - though, it is not so much charity that I don't like, it's the feeling of being useless or pitied that often comes with it, and the thoughtlessness behind the charity itself more often than not.
I've realized that no, it's not charity I dislike - I love it, in fact - I just prefer it to come in a very specific packaging. I enjoy seeing a member of the Peerage do their part by getting their hands dirty in the Lowers. I like that the lovely Baroness Skye volunteers in the Commons Clinic, and as terrifying I may find her, I love how Lady Lucene handles the orphans of the Tragedy. I find that those actions are worth so much more than a handful of silver.
Likewise, I've come to realize that I enjoy giving people gifts. Things that they need, or things that they want dearly. Something personal, something that is going to have a sentimental value attached to it, something created by my own hand.
Of course, Scholar, this is not me advocating for fewer donations to the Faith or any other charity organization. It has its place, it's important, and it /definitely/ makes a change. This is merely me airing my love of a personal touch on a much smaller scale, is all.
I know I've been very open about my distaste for charity in the past - though, it is not so much charity that I don't like, it's the feeling of being useless or pitied that often comes with it, and the thoughtlessness behind the charity itself more often than not.
I've realized that no, it's not charity I dislike - I love it, in fact - I just prefer it to come in a very specific packaging. I enjoy seeing a member of the Peerage do their part by getting their hands dirty in the Lowers. I like that the lovely Baroness Skye volunteers in the Commons Clinic, and as terrifying I may find her, I love how Lady Lucene handles the orphans of the Tragedy. I find that those actions are worth so much more than a handful of silver.
Likewise, I've come to realize that I enjoy giving people gifts. Things that they need, or things that they want dearly. Something personal, something that is going to have a sentimental value attached to it, something created by my own hand.
Of course, Scholar, this is not me advocating for fewer donations to the Faith or any other charity organization. It has its place, it's important, and it /definitely/ makes a change. This is merely me airing my love of a personal touch on a much smaller scale, is all.
Written By Jules
April 16, 2020, 2:37 p.m.(2/16/1013 AR)
I wonder what would happen to a bird if it sneezed while it was flying? Would it fall because it stopped flapping or would it go up because it shot out air from its mouth. Do birds sneeze? It would be a funny sight, I should try to see if I can figure this riddle out!
Written By Vulpiano
April 16, 2020, 1:24 p.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
There's something very satisfying in joining an effort in its beginnings. Or as close as one might be able to get. It's less about leaving one's own personal mark upon it, though I assume it might motivate others. It's in watching it grow and evolve through time. How one's efforts translate into something better, something stronger.
It's how I feel working for House DiFidante. The land and its people have been through much, and yet there's something deeply satisfying in watching the Roseward march steadily onward to a brighter future, through the guidance of its leaders and determination of its inhabitants, while doing my own small part to help it along.
It's how I feel working for House DiFidante. The land and its people have been through much, and yet there's something deeply satisfying in watching the Roseward march steadily onward to a brighter future, through the guidance of its leaders and determination of its inhabitants, while doing my own small part to help it along.
Written By Strozza
April 16, 2020, 12:04 p.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
A gift of sweet lemon for all those who attend to a Princess.
I hope all goes spectacularly, your grace
I hope all goes spectacularly, your grace
Written By Martino
April 16, 2020, 11:05 a.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
These books aren't quite what I recall in the days of dear youthful dalliances. Perhaps therein lies the challenge being presented.
To write another book on the experiences, humour and folly of mine travels.
Something that would be truly worthy of keeping underneath the pillow.
To write another book on the experiences, humour and folly of mine travels.
Something that would be truly worthy of keeping underneath the pillow.
Written By Belladonna
April 16, 2020, 8:03 a.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Drusila
Life is truly full of wonder.
I am glad that even in the darkest hours I have those to help me through the shroud. May your flame never dim, and may I be so lucky and blessed to have it by my side for as long as I am around.
I am glad that even in the darkest hours I have those to help me through the shroud. May your flame never dim, and may I be so lucky and blessed to have it by my side for as long as I am around.
Written By Belladonna
April 16, 2020, 7:59 a.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Sophie
You have shown me that Faith is not about fear, but about hope, and you have taught me that hope is not a fool's endeavor, but a worthwhile pursuit of the strong.
The Mother Mercy is the best the Faith has to offer, and of course she would refuse these compliments, because that is just how she was raised, thanks to the romantic Oathlands, but that does not make me any less right.
If you find yourself wondering what to do with a few minutes of your day, please do find a pen, and write her something nice.
She deserves it.
The Mother Mercy is the best the Faith has to offer, and of course she would refuse these compliments, because that is just how she was raised, thanks to the romantic Oathlands, but that does not make me any less right.
If you find yourself wondering what to do with a few minutes of your day, please do find a pen, and write her something nice.
She deserves it.
Written By Belladonna
April 16, 2020, 7:53 a.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
We change to remain the same.
This is the inescapable truth of the Compact. We are all obsesses with the past, with that we have lost, collecting secrets and learning new arts. We are happier when we dust off this thick mist that is everywhere around us and we see what was more clearly.
It is obvious that we have lost much. Something was stolen from us, and we miss whatever is missing. This is the ghost of a touch that makes us ache in longing. Condemned to lay down asleep and dream of the days with spend awake and blissful nights of pleasure. We must cling to these scraps because the alternative would be terrifying.
For all it is worth, I agree. It is frightening indeed and, to be fair, who wouldn't want to live in a Dream?
This is the inescapable truth of the Compact. We are all obsesses with the past, with that we have lost, collecting secrets and learning new arts. We are happier when we dust off this thick mist that is everywhere around us and we see what was more clearly.
It is obvious that we have lost much. Something was stolen from us, and we miss whatever is missing. This is the ghost of a touch that makes us ache in longing. Condemned to lay down asleep and dream of the days with spend awake and blissful nights of pleasure. We must cling to these scraps because the alternative would be terrifying.
For all it is worth, I agree. It is frightening indeed and, to be fair, who wouldn't want to live in a Dream?
Written By Sirius
April 16, 2020, 4:45 a.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
Hello once more, Vellichor,
Or whosoever spirited, kindly scholar that here-in peeks at this letter upon delivery,
I have missed long the opportunity to write to your archives again. I must admit, there's a certain weariness to my being that is exacerbated with the accumulation of days that pass by, where I'm not chanced to put in paper my woes for you, Custodian of Knowledge. It is a strange, odd feeling that has been marinating in me -- as if by some measure, failing to subscribe my doings to your shelves is against my health or, at the least, my hope for legacy,
Either way, it doesn't matter much,
Winter, as too the last, has made a familiar number upon my being. My nose's, seemingly, perpetually clogged. Skin is peeling off of its surface, too -- I've even obtained freckles I knew not to have. A Mercy deemed it natural, claimed the changing heat and cold my skin's constantly exposed to is the perpetrator, but what can I do? A mere few inches too far from any fire is enough to make me feel as if I'm freezing again, and I've never been one of poor constitution. Wherefor that Valardin grit known of my family? It's gone now,
It's just Sirius, now,
Getting cold. Feeling itches on his elbows, his toes quick to get freezing sweat on them too. More lethargic by the day. I nearly fell asleep on my horse last I drilled the men too, doing our eleventh foot rehearsal. Unacceptable. Shameful, too, and I blame the tea. It is not strong enough- it used to be I could sleep only four hours, have a proper cup, and I'd be good for the day whole to tackle its many challenges,
Tea, however, doesn't come as good as it used to. Or as strong. And it matters not how caffeinated I am, my body just falls apart and is quick to hang slack when I need it the most. Must be I'm getting old... coming off of my prime at eighteen, I can already see the white hair prickling out of my chin. My hairline receding. Wait, scratch that; we won't even joke about that. I did have an uncle... nevermind, let us not even summon the memory of Prince Landry.
I hope, perhaps, that in the future I'll have more time to defer to you my woes and worries once more, old wizened Vellichor. Also, worry not about my nose any longer- a kindly flower gifted me a cloak recently. I owe her more than she could know.
Or whosoever spirited, kindly scholar that here-in peeks at this letter upon delivery,
I have missed long the opportunity to write to your archives again. I must admit, there's a certain weariness to my being that is exacerbated with the accumulation of days that pass by, where I'm not chanced to put in paper my woes for you, Custodian of Knowledge. It is a strange, odd feeling that has been marinating in me -- as if by some measure, failing to subscribe my doings to your shelves is against my health or, at the least, my hope for legacy,
Either way, it doesn't matter much,
Winter, as too the last, has made a familiar number upon my being. My nose's, seemingly, perpetually clogged. Skin is peeling off of its surface, too -- I've even obtained freckles I knew not to have. A Mercy deemed it natural, claimed the changing heat and cold my skin's constantly exposed to is the perpetrator, but what can I do? A mere few inches too far from any fire is enough to make me feel as if I'm freezing again, and I've never been one of poor constitution. Wherefor that Valardin grit known of my family? It's gone now,
It's just Sirius, now,
Getting cold. Feeling itches on his elbows, his toes quick to get freezing sweat on them too. More lethargic by the day. I nearly fell asleep on my horse last I drilled the men too, doing our eleventh foot rehearsal. Unacceptable. Shameful, too, and I blame the tea. It is not strong enough- it used to be I could sleep only four hours, have a proper cup, and I'd be good for the day whole to tackle its many challenges,
Tea, however, doesn't come as good as it used to. Or as strong. And it matters not how caffeinated I am, my body just falls apart and is quick to hang slack when I need it the most. Must be I'm getting old... coming off of my prime at eighteen, I can already see the white hair prickling out of my chin. My hairline receding. Wait, scratch that; we won't even joke about that. I did have an uncle... nevermind, let us not even summon the memory of Prince Landry.
I hope, perhaps, that in the future I'll have more time to defer to you my woes and worries once more, old wizened Vellichor. Also, worry not about my nose any longer- a kindly flower gifted me a cloak recently. I owe her more than she could know.
Written By Evaristo
April 16, 2020, 4:16 a.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Raymesin
Drar gods, why did you not ask me for help?
I would have hired some people to carry everything!
Can not WAIT to shop there!
I would have hired some people to carry everything!
Can not WAIT to shop there!
Written By Jyri
April 16, 2020, 3:43 a.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
I have finally started on writing a treatise on a subject I have spent the last two years of study on. Not two executive years, but when time has permitted. Let it also be noted I have many to thank for their aid in combing through old musty books and scrolls, or sharing knowledge they already had. Though I am sure there is much more to learn, I have a conprehensive enough picture of it to put things together in a coherent manner. I will build on it as more knowledge comes my way.
Written By Cadern
April 16, 2020, 2:54 a.m.(2/15/1013 AR)
Well... that was interesting. A meeting with Emissary Zulana. I can't say I'm sure how to gauge if that was good or bad. But it was certainly fascinating. Though and a good reminder that just anyone can read what's written here. Pity I didn't get more of a story, but sometimes the stories people won't tell are pretty telling. Things that frighten even such people are perhaps not the best things to look depeer into.
Written By Tanith
April 16, 2020, 2:23 a.m.(2/14/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Corrigan
My cousin has the most amazing ability, scholar: he can scrub pots with just his face. He does such a good job of it, I may never let him buy another drink at the Murder again so long as he continues to do so. He can walk right through the doors and there I'll be with all the pots, waiting. Everyday. And after, I'll let him have a drink so long as he can still swallow.
Written By Sydney
April 15, 2020, 10:48 p.m.(2/14/1013 AR)
The peril of making sweeping declarations in these journals is that it hazards the chance at others actually holding me to them.
No, I have not yet ceased to drink alcohol. With all that's going on, I dare you to try it. It's enough that I've reduced the frequency of making an ass of myself in bars, is it not?
It is.
No, I have not yet ceased to drink alcohol. With all that's going on, I dare you to try it. It's enough that I've reduced the frequency of making an ass of myself in bars, is it not?
It is.
Written By Cambria
April 15, 2020, 7:11 p.m.(2/14/1013 AR)
Recently, I received a gift from someone whom you could argue had no reason to give someone such as me anything. It is not an expensive gift, but it is a thoughtful one. In this simple act, the generosity of Gild shines bright, and I am humbled.
Written By Jules
April 15, 2020, 4:53 p.m.(2/14/1013 AR)
On a side note, I saw Caleb yesterday. I'm not sure if it's Lord Caleb or what his exact position is but whenever I see him, it reminds me of Edowyn. That's not to say all kids around that age don't remind me of Edowyn but sometimes I have trouble holding it together but then it's just been a long couple months. Things will certainly start looking up again.
Written By Jules
April 15, 2020, 4:51 p.m.(2/14/1013 AR)
I met Princess Drea yesterday. I don't really know anyone from the Redrain family except in the most vague connection and really this makes sense. She was quite a pleasant sort too, she talked and listened and was quite kind. She seems like she's interested in some of the same things I am, or at least she finds interesting, the things I am interested in.
Written By Corrigan
April 15, 2020, 4:13 p.m.(2/14/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Tanith
My cousin's talking nonsense. Tan's sense of humour's famous Arx-wide, and she's known to give free drinks to people who give her funny nicknames.
Written By Raymesin
April 15, 2020, 3:35 p.m.(2/14/1013 AR)
I need a hand at the bakery, she said.
We need to get the flour delivery in, she said.
Don't wear anything black, she said.
I don't /have/ anything not black, Scholar! And she's only just taken the bakery over, so there was a lot more than just flour to get in, too. From noon 'til dinner time. And there went my day off.
Ah well. At least she fed me.
We need to get the flour delivery in, she said.
Don't wear anything black, she said.
I don't /have/ anything not black, Scholar! And she's only just taken the bakery over, so there was a lot more than just flour to get in, too. From noon 'til dinner time. And there went my day off.
Ah well. At least she fed me.
Written By Azova
April 15, 2020, 2:31 p.m.(2/14/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Carita
You're such a generous soul, Contessa. Anyone who might suggest otherwise is obviously a blithering fuckwit.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.