Written By Peri
Dec. 18, 2019, 3:10 p.m.(5/24/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Dio
With the help of Marquis and Marquess Saraceni, Sir Merek Black, Lady Thea Malvici, Lord Thomas Hawkmour, and my father the slavers of Isle al'Araq have met with justice. Many who had no home now have a home in Pearlspire. Let the death cries of slavers and the breaking of chains be the song of your freedom.
This could not have been done without the resources of my Patron, Marquis Dio Seracini.
Climb high.
This could not have been done without the resources of my Patron, Marquis Dio Seracini.
Climb high.
Written By Zacharie
Dec. 18, 2019, 2:54 p.m.(5/24/1012 AR)
Congratulations are due to Duchess Calista Fidanta for her work raising up one of her own, and to Duke Hadrian and Duchess Cambria Mazetti, for raising their House and all the Lyceum with it.
Written By Reigna
Dec. 18, 2019, 1:15 p.m.(5/24/1012 AR)
I have been filled with malaise of late. Perhaps it is this fatigue that seems as though it will never go away, or maybe it is just the fact that though I have made several great strides in some areas, I have failed at the most basic things at the same time.
Life is a funny thing. I devote myself to the path of Lagoma, in being light and change. Healing. And yet the pull of Limerance in many ways is a call to resist change. To stay in place, as promised.
I am perpetually torn between what I want, what I need, what is needed from me and... no matter which way I turn or twist I fear something will break.
What was once shall never be again. But is that a sign of failure?
Life is a funny thing. I devote myself to the path of Lagoma, in being light and change. Healing. And yet the pull of Limerance in many ways is a call to resist change. To stay in place, as promised.
I am perpetually torn between what I want, what I need, what is needed from me and... no matter which way I turn or twist I fear something will break.
What was once shall never be again. But is that a sign of failure?
Written By Ashur
Dec. 18, 2019, 8:25 a.m.(5/24/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Anisha
This Whisper is relentless, yet kind and full of graceful understanding. Although she did confuse me for somebody else at first, it's very easy to mix up us amazingly handsome adventurer-explorer types. Nevertheless, I look forward to seeing her and hearing her nightingale again, under future cloudless night skies. Any tedium could be broken by her presence.
Written By Thea
Dec. 18, 2019, 8:04 a.m.(5/24/1012 AR)
I was asked to go on a trip...along the Saffron Chain. For a purpose. I don't think I was invited for what I ended up doing. But I think I proved myself amongst my peers and other houses just fine...I proved I am most certainly myself, Lycene and Malvici.
I am happy of the outcome and the freedom we accomplished.
I am happy of the outcome and the freedom we accomplished.
Written By Anisha
Dec. 18, 2019, 7:22 a.m.(5/24/1012 AR)
Today I once more spent time in the Shrine of the Thirteenth. You get a lot of time to reflect in such a place. Even if you're not looking in a mirror.
The service I provide is simple enough. Listen. Discuss. Find the path forward.
I'm considering a sermon. In-between the aspirants coming for aid, I mull it over in my mind, as I watch my reflection in black stone, and she watches her reflection in mirrored silver.
I don't know when I will be ready to hold it. It is a heady responsibility.
But sometimes, you can't wait to be ready.
Reflection is important. But it must not become passivity.
The service I provide is simple enough. Listen. Discuss. Find the path forward.
I'm considering a sermon. In-between the aspirants coming for aid, I mull it over in my mind, as I watch my reflection in black stone, and she watches her reflection in mirrored silver.
I don't know when I will be ready to hold it. It is a heady responsibility.
But sometimes, you can't wait to be ready.
Reflection is important. But it must not become passivity.
Written By Jules
Dec. 18, 2019, 2:15 a.m.(5/23/1012 AR)
I attempted to organize an event tonight to help figure out how to help those who struggle with large gatherings. I am glad I did but am not certain how well it went. I suppose it was primarily a learning experience. I shall reflect on what I was able to learn at a later point.
Written By Dio
Dec. 18, 2019, 12:08 a.m.(5/23/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Imogene
Imogene Seraceni, Countess of the March of Ischia - formerly of House Blanchard, known for playing the clavichord and her love of floral patterns - shouted amid a slave rebellion in the Saffron Chain, "death to slavers," and "death before slavery."
At least, I think that's what she yelled. I'd lost a lot of blood.
Clearly, I married the right woman.
At least, I think that's what she yelled. I'd lost a lot of blood.
Clearly, I married the right woman.
Written By Sydney
Dec. 18, 2019, 12:07 a.m.(5/23/1012 AR)
Alas, those who beg poorly remain without that which they seek, and become altogether less respectable for the attempt.
Written By Dairen
Dec. 17, 2019, 11:42 p.m.(5/23/1012 AR)
Sometimes a smile can light up a whole room. Amethyst studded fox ears don't hurt it.
Written By Aerandir
Dec. 17, 2019, 11:27 p.m.(5/23/1012 AR)
I felt unsteady standing upon the leaky vessel that bore my weight across the sea, back to the mainland; toward Arx. The many miles I have travelled have been unhappy ones for the most part, but they are, if naught else, miles that I have travelled with my own feet. The same cannot be said for miles travelled upon a boat, I realise, a strange truth for someone so enraptured with the sea. The waters below me were dark, and maybe they held as many dangers as the darkest depths and quietest confines of the lands that I have walked within. The thought made me uneasy: unsurprising then that I stepped away from the edge of the boat, fearful that I might have slipped into its black envelope, and be sealed from the light of the open night sky forevermore. Such fears might be deemed irrational, out of place and wrong for a seasoned sailor, but who can say that there is any rationality to be had in the world beyond our towns and our villages? I have seen little, and wish I had seen less.
A contemplative moment carries the back of my rough, labouring hand across the prickling stubble of my cheek – grown somewhat longer and more uncouth than I am used to. I have neglected vanity in the season's recent cycles, though vanity was never held close to my heart. Seeing my reflection upon those murky waters – darker yet under the starry shade of the sky than they were by day – a striking awareness of the side-effects of my contemplative confinement overcame me. My face was, is, emaciated by self-neglect, and the fullness of my cheeks now gives way to a paler pallor and sunken characteristic heretofore not my own. My hair is ragged and brushes beneath my shoulders, and the ruby that marks the human lip is dull and disrupted by crease and tear of my own. My hollow example of the human spirit finds its resemblance upon the features of my body. I shall have to aright myself soon, for I do not wish to be mistook for some ill-omen or maddened hermit making its way through the city, as perhaps I have been for some time now across the southern reaches.
Others upon that boat tried to trade words with me, but I had little spirit for it. Soon again, they left me and cast askance glances – glances which I can now fully appreciate the uncertainty of, having caught a glimpse of my haggard visage not only in the waters that supported our collective journey, but also amongst the polished sea of fine mirrors. Another man might consider and ask the purpose for their travels to the eastern north, but I will not, and know that my dismissive demeanour will keep any from asking me the same question. I fear that I have no more answer to give than I have a willingness to provide any explanation. These days and nights, the circumstances of my existence have been so maddened by purposeless. Where once was an unfaltering optimistic idealism, there has been only a quiet and unattended request for serenity, cloyed by the inescapable memories of that which has shrunk my spirit so, yet today I began to feel the tug and pull of hope anew, glimmering in the horizon, in the visage of sister Dianna and her kindness and promises.
If only my thoughts articulated themselves so easily in their answers as in their questions. Darkness encroaches upon the city now, swelling and bolstering its shadows, and the pale sun which occasionally graced me through the spires and rooves has altogether abandoned the waking world already. The bright moon above shines splendidly upon the waters however, and I find again – even if only by coincidence – that my course follows that which the nightlights set out for me.
A contemplative moment carries the back of my rough, labouring hand across the prickling stubble of my cheek – grown somewhat longer and more uncouth than I am used to. I have neglected vanity in the season's recent cycles, though vanity was never held close to my heart. Seeing my reflection upon those murky waters – darker yet under the starry shade of the sky than they were by day – a striking awareness of the side-effects of my contemplative confinement overcame me. My face was, is, emaciated by self-neglect, and the fullness of my cheeks now gives way to a paler pallor and sunken characteristic heretofore not my own. My hair is ragged and brushes beneath my shoulders, and the ruby that marks the human lip is dull and disrupted by crease and tear of my own. My hollow example of the human spirit finds its resemblance upon the features of my body. I shall have to aright myself soon, for I do not wish to be mistook for some ill-omen or maddened hermit making its way through the city, as perhaps I have been for some time now across the southern reaches.
Others upon that boat tried to trade words with me, but I had little spirit for it. Soon again, they left me and cast askance glances – glances which I can now fully appreciate the uncertainty of, having caught a glimpse of my haggard visage not only in the waters that supported our collective journey, but also amongst the polished sea of fine mirrors. Another man might consider and ask the purpose for their travels to the eastern north, but I will not, and know that my dismissive demeanour will keep any from asking me the same question. I fear that I have no more answer to give than I have a willingness to provide any explanation. These days and nights, the circumstances of my existence have been so maddened by purposeless. Where once was an unfaltering optimistic idealism, there has been only a quiet and unattended request for serenity, cloyed by the inescapable memories of that which has shrunk my spirit so, yet today I began to feel the tug and pull of hope anew, glimmering in the horizon, in the visage of sister Dianna and her kindness and promises.
If only my thoughts articulated themselves so easily in their answers as in their questions. Darkness encroaches upon the city now, swelling and bolstering its shadows, and the pale sun which occasionally graced me through the spires and rooves has altogether abandoned the waking world already. The bright moon above shines splendidly upon the waters however, and I find again – even if only by coincidence – that my course follows that which the nightlights set out for me.
Written By Jaerith
Dec. 17, 2019, 9:10 p.m.(5/23/1012 AR)
How the time passes! I return to the city, and it seems much as when I left it. The seasons have changed, a House rises higher, but the city remains as I recall it. As much time on ships as I have spent, I missed the city and what it offers. I won't call it a fresh start, but it will be fresh enough. New people to meet, new things to do. I am invigorated. I wonder what lies in store?
Written By Cassandra
Dec. 17, 2019, 5:59 p.m.(5/23/1012 AR)
Please do not make the Scholars write scribbles in white journals. If you wish to make some kind of art, devotees of Jayus are happy to be of assistance in such things.
Written By Cambria
Dec. 17, 2019, 5:41 p.m.(5/23/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Hadrian
I have kept my promise to you.
I shan't deny that it would not have been possible without you, of course. How different our lives might have been had you remained the Duke of Southport; had I married another. What might the future have held for us, if only we had not tied our respective futures together? Such questions are amusing to ponder, but ultimately meaningless.
Because the promise has been made real. Though it took you, and many others, to achieve, you cannot deny that I have not done what I set out to do, that I stuck to my plan with a tenacity no one would have thought possible from the sickly little girl that I once was. I took you from your ducal seat in the city-state of Southport, and put you upon another. One that was not passed down to you by relations who had already made it strong, made it famous. It is easy to reign brightly on the success of others, after all.
I attacked your pride, your word - your very honor. It was not easy. Not for you, nor for me. I brought you into a House who had suffered under your kin and they were not thrilled to see you in it. The first few years of our marriage were not happy.
But what I did, what we did, was for more than that promise I made you. Though a promise is never a thing to be taken lightly, we both know that the future I dreamed of was one in which the people who owe me their fealty could live a life better than the one they had before. I wanted to take my inheritance and transform it...not because what was there was at all bad, but because that is the duty (as I see it) of a leader. I will forever strive to make Ostria better than when I found it, and I shall expect our children to do the same, when it is their time.
Yes, I have kept my promise to you. When your gaze next falls across the Walled City, I hope you will know the taste of a glory that you yourself worked to achieve.
I shan't deny that it would not have been possible without you, of course. How different our lives might have been had you remained the Duke of Southport; had I married another. What might the future have held for us, if only we had not tied our respective futures together? Such questions are amusing to ponder, but ultimately meaningless.
Because the promise has been made real. Though it took you, and many others, to achieve, you cannot deny that I have not done what I set out to do, that I stuck to my plan with a tenacity no one would have thought possible from the sickly little girl that I once was. I took you from your ducal seat in the city-state of Southport, and put you upon another. One that was not passed down to you by relations who had already made it strong, made it famous. It is easy to reign brightly on the success of others, after all.
I attacked your pride, your word - your very honor. It was not easy. Not for you, nor for me. I brought you into a House who had suffered under your kin and they were not thrilled to see you in it. The first few years of our marriage were not happy.
But what I did, what we did, was for more than that promise I made you. Though a promise is never a thing to be taken lightly, we both know that the future I dreamed of was one in which the people who owe me their fealty could live a life better than the one they had before. I wanted to take my inheritance and transform it...not because what was there was at all bad, but because that is the duty (as I see it) of a leader. I will forever strive to make Ostria better than when I found it, and I shall expect our children to do the same, when it is their time.
Yes, I have kept my promise to you. When your gaze next falls across the Walled City, I hope you will know the taste of a glory that you yourself worked to achieve.
Written By Strozza
Dec. 17, 2019, 2:07 p.m.(5/22/1012 AR)
The endless mirror
Blue or black its not the sky
Unobtainable
Blue or black its not the sky
Unobtainable
Written By Aureth
Dec. 17, 2019, 10:57 a.m.(5/22/1012 AR)
Tea with honey is not a solution to all problems, yet it can improve some in great measure.
Written By Strozza
Dec. 17, 2019, 9:30 a.m.(5/22/1012 AR)
If I cannot be clad in fine things, then why have access to them?
Written By Cyril
Dec. 17, 2019, 9:26 a.m.(5/22/1012 AR)
Theory is that there are worlds beyond this one. One in particular is the Shining Land where souls land before departing on to their next life. Some times they leave behind what's called a ghost. These are fun things to think about so I wonder if we suppose that this is correct, are ghosts simply reflections of the passing of our loved ones? An example of our effect on that world from this one. Can we then presume to be able to affect it likewise? Say to heal it.
Written By Delilah
Dec. 17, 2019, 9:25 a.m.(5/22/1012 AR)
Well, this has been an unmitigated disaster of the highest water. I may never be able to show my face in here for... at least three weeks.
Camilla and Sage were both kind enough to show me how to create pastry dough. At least it should have been easy. A 'foolproof recipe,' they said, certain to be easy even for the likes of an inexperienced baker like me. At least collecting the honey from a jar was the easy part. But the pastries went in strange and came out more than uneven, rather flat and apparently savaged by a bird in the oven whilst we were trying to salvage the crumb expected to go atop it. I am not certain what they expected of me. It probably wasn't this wreckage of baked, burnt grass and lumpen rock, still soft as clay in the middle. We all agreed to bury it in the garden and feed the irises, so none would be the wiser until I set pen to paper and prove that even the vaunted heights of status don't save us from ignorance at times.
We're apparently to make a very simple biscuit with powder next week. I shall leave the domain to my inestimable bakers, patient and kind as they are. But at least the lumpy pastry disaster beats the hardtack I've had to at times endure.
Camilla and Sage were both kind enough to show me how to create pastry dough. At least it should have been easy. A 'foolproof recipe,' they said, certain to be easy even for the likes of an inexperienced baker like me. At least collecting the honey from a jar was the easy part. But the pastries went in strange and came out more than uneven, rather flat and apparently savaged by a bird in the oven whilst we were trying to salvage the crumb expected to go atop it. I am not certain what they expected of me. It probably wasn't this wreckage of baked, burnt grass and lumpen rock, still soft as clay in the middle. We all agreed to bury it in the garden and feed the irises, so none would be the wiser until I set pen to paper and prove that even the vaunted heights of status don't save us from ignorance at times.
We're apparently to make a very simple biscuit with powder next week. I shall leave the domain to my inestimable bakers, patient and kind as they are. But at least the lumpy pastry disaster beats the hardtack I've had to at times endure.
Written By Aslaug
Dec. 17, 2019, 8:22 a.m.(5/22/1012 AR)
I miss the wild.
There is nothing quite like the view of the sun rising, or falling, behind trees.
=:7)~~
There is nothing quite like the view of the sun rising, or falling, behind trees.
=:7)~~
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.