Written By Mara
Oct. 12, 2019, 5:08 p.m.(1/3/1012 AR)
Bunnies are evil, no matter what color. All of them, evil.
Written By Josephine
Oct. 12, 2019, 1:35 p.m.(1/2/1012 AR)
YEs, this is my yearly grousing.
Snow. Water from the sky frozen. Off with it, begone. No good comes of the sea, and no good comes of the snow.
Snow. Water from the sky frozen. Off with it, begone. No good comes of the sea, and no good comes of the snow.
Written By Willow
Oct. 12, 2019, 1:21 p.m.(1/2/1012 AR)
Lay before the gardener
Your saddest blooms
The hungry
The weak
The withered
And the suffering
Such flowers as require
Extra love and tender care
The gardener loves
No blossom less than the other
Their great value
Lies in numbers
For sweet smelling beauty
Is fleeting
Your saddest blooms
The hungry
The weak
The withered
And the suffering
Such flowers as require
Extra love and tender care
The gardener loves
No blossom less than the other
Their great value
Lies in numbers
For sweet smelling beauty
Is fleeting
Written By Willow
Oct. 12, 2019, 12:02 p.m.(1/2/1012 AR)
As Spring, So Fall.
Once Summer, Now Winter.
There is only what a man can stand to do.
What luxury, to feel liberated
to condemn those walking with the downtrodden
More strongly than those who deny your gods.
Is weakness worth such contempt,
Or is that strength so feared?
Insulated in the down of sleeping geese
I weep
Once Summer, Now Winter.
There is only what a man can stand to do.
What luxury, to feel liberated
to condemn those walking with the downtrodden
More strongly than those who deny your gods.
Is weakness worth such contempt,
Or is that strength so feared?
Insulated in the down of sleeping geese
I weep
Written By Sydney
Oct. 12, 2019, 10:13 a.m.(1/2/1012 AR)
When I was a girl, I used to gather up all of my clothes into a pile and hide inside of them. I'm sure, looking back, that my folks were able to see a little Sydney foot sticking out, because I didn't own many clothes to begin with. More than I do now, to be sure.
Am I still hiding there, now only behind fists, status, and a grin?
The commoner isn't a threat.
The brawler hasn't a thought.
The smiling haven't a care.
Hiding, indeed.
Am I still hiding there, now only behind fists, status, and a grin?
The commoner isn't a threat.
The brawler hasn't a thought.
The smiling haven't a care.
Hiding, indeed.
Written By Marian
Oct. 12, 2019, 6:26 a.m.(1/2/1012 AR)
Once again another year has passed.
I suppose I could have thrown a large celebration to herald the event. However, I spent the day with my children. We did have a cake, a special treat. Nia and Fergus begged to sit on my lap so we fairly left the matter up to chance. Valen prevailed much to his siblings ire. He's such a quiet boy but very clever. Great scholars will have to mentor him when he gets older since his clever mind figured out the best way to win.
In the coming days, I shall be visiting my brother and sister, a simple dinner. Truly, I need nothing more than the love and support of my family. Perhaps I shall drag my liege out for a boar hunt. Princess Gwenna and I might have a quick drink to catch up on matters of state. It's just another day in my life. Nothing to put in parchment.
I suppose I could have thrown a large celebration to herald the event. However, I spent the day with my children. We did have a cake, a special treat. Nia and Fergus begged to sit on my lap so we fairly left the matter up to chance. Valen prevailed much to his siblings ire. He's such a quiet boy but very clever. Great scholars will have to mentor him when he gets older since his clever mind figured out the best way to win.
In the coming days, I shall be visiting my brother and sister, a simple dinner. Truly, I need nothing more than the love and support of my family. Perhaps I shall drag my liege out for a boar hunt. Princess Gwenna and I might have a quick drink to catch up on matters of state. It's just another day in my life. Nothing to put in parchment.
Written By Marian
Oct. 12, 2019, 6:16 a.m.(1/2/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Aiden
When I was young, my mother taught me the meanings of animals. They had a place in our lives and our dreams. The goose in a dream typically meant fertility and family. A flock of geese could indicate a partnership or marriage. It was considered a good omen to have geese at your wedding which is why these sacred birds would be used in ceremonies.
Since embracing my Faith, I have put aside such superstitions. However, I find myself at the Shrine of Petrichor, praying on this matter. Because even if we discount the symbolism, groups of birds dying mid-flight does not speak well of our environment. I have made a point of keeping my own companion, Ender, grounded when outdoors until a better explanation can be made. I am encouraging others with knowledge of these events to speak to Duke Aiden Rubino since his extensive knowledge of birds might assist in averting further tragedy to other flocks.
Since embracing my Faith, I have put aside such superstitions. However, I find myself at the Shrine of Petrichor, praying on this matter. Because even if we discount the symbolism, groups of birds dying mid-flight does not speak well of our environment. I have made a point of keeping my own companion, Ender, grounded when outdoors until a better explanation can be made. I am encouraging others with knowledge of these events to speak to Duke Aiden Rubino since his extensive knowledge of birds might assist in averting further tragedy to other flocks.
Written By Arcadia
Oct. 12, 2019, 2:50 a.m.(1/1/1012 AR)
The first snow of the season has always been my favorite. I remember as a child that feeling that the snow was coming. That crispness in the air and how everything fell silent and still. I remember trying my hardest to stay awake all night in hopes of seeing the first flake fall. Tonight I caught it. My small daughter, the future countess of Bonespire cuddled close to me, we watched the snow fall and I promised her that one day, she will love this day as much as I do.
I suppose it feels fitting that I became the countess-consort of a place that boarders the everwinter. Perhaps it was destined from when I was a small child. I wonder if that means somewhere, someone argued that I could do this, be a leader. Some days, it sure feels like someone is playing a joke on me.
I suppose it feels fitting that I became the countess-consort of a place that boarders the everwinter. Perhaps it was destined from when I was a small child. I wonder if that means somewhere, someone argued that I could do this, be a leader. Some days, it sure feels like someone is playing a joke on me.
Written By Elisha
Oct. 12, 2019, 1:27 a.m.(1/1/1012 AR)
"I dreamed of a harbor facing south, in bright daylight," the Archlector of Death reports to her olive-skinned archscholar. "Gentle waves kiss the retaining walls; stone steps descend, warmed by the sun. Boats with tidy rigging sway beneath arriving passengers who rush laughing onto the quay to greet families weeping with relief and welcome."
"A blessed vision," the archscholar murmurs, her gray eyes downcast in obedience.
"Search the archives," the Archlector of Death commands, "until you find the place to which my dream corresponds."
"Forgive me, Voice of the Mother of Furrows," the archscholar replies. "But while there is no doubt that I could find the precise citation in the archives, I could not come back to share it with you."
"And why is that?" the Archlector of Death demands.
"Because the place of which you dreamed knows only arrivals, not departures," the archscholar says,
and the Archlector of Death sees in
her dew-touched web
that the harbor is a fallow field
where the waves dance not with water but with grain
and the warm stones enclose pasturage,
and the shapes swaying across the rolling hills are plows.
"What of the passengers," she asks, "rushing onto the quay?"
They smell of carbon and water,
ammonia and lime,
phosphorous and iron and salt.
"A blessed vision," the archscholar murmurs, her gray eyes downcast in obedience.
"Search the archives," the Archlector of Death commands, "until you find the place to which my dream corresponds."
"Forgive me, Voice of the Mother of Furrows," the archscholar replies. "But while there is no doubt that I could find the precise citation in the archives, I could not come back to share it with you."
"And why is that?" the Archlector of Death demands.
"Because the place of which you dreamed knows only arrivals, not departures," the archscholar says,
and the Archlector of Death sees in
her dew-touched web
that the harbor is a fallow field
where the waves dance not with water but with grain
and the warm stones enclose pasturage,
and the shapes swaying across the rolling hills are plows.
"What of the passengers," she asks, "rushing onto the quay?"
They smell of carbon and water,
ammonia and lime,
phosphorous and iron and salt.
Written By Elisha
Oct. 12, 2019, 12:54 a.m.(1/1/1012 AR)
Newly exiled, and quite ignorant of the languages of the shav'Arxani, the charlatan can express herself only by drawing objects from her steelsilk pack--tambourines, salted pike, necklaces of monkey's tails and bats' wings--and pointing to them with gestures, leaps, moans of pleasure, cries of horror, by imitating the squeak of the rat, the hoot of the owl.
The connections between one element of her story and another are not always obvious to the patrons in her storefront chapel; an empty sheath might indicate war or battle, a polite duel on a wide green lawn, or a woman who lost her man; a mirror might mean vanity or reflection or the place where mirrors are made. But what enhances for the patrons every tale shared by the inarticulate charlatan is the space that remains around it, the void bereft of words. The descriptions of the charlatan have this virtue, if none other:
However, time touches even shopfront chapels, eventually, and words begin to replace objects and gestures and cries. First the charlatan barks exhortations, then she makes herself understood with sentences. She will soon descend into metaphor and sermon and discourse. Still, no matter how eloquently she speaks, she will not know if the patrons have mastered her language, or if she has learned theirs.
* * *
(The strong build embassies in the capitals of the weak, with permission or without. What is that half-seen doorway on the leafy Upper street, between the perfumer's shop and the adulterer's window?)
The connections between one element of her story and another are not always obvious to the patrons in her storefront chapel; an empty sheath might indicate war or battle, a polite duel on a wide green lawn, or a woman who lost her man; a mirror might mean vanity or reflection or the place where mirrors are made. But what enhances for the patrons every tale shared by the inarticulate charlatan is the space that remains around it, the void bereft of words. The descriptions of the charlatan have this virtue, if none other:
However, time touches even shopfront chapels, eventually, and words begin to replace objects and gestures and cries. First the charlatan barks exhortations, then she makes herself understood with sentences. She will soon descend into metaphor and sermon and discourse. Still, no matter how eloquently she speaks, she will not know if the patrons have mastered her language, or if she has learned theirs.
* * *
(The strong build embassies in the capitals of the weak, with permission or without. What is that half-seen doorway on the leafy Upper street, between the perfumer's shop and the adulterer's window?)
Written By Tikva
Oct. 12, 2019, 12:10 a.m.(1/1/1012 AR)
It is time for the first snow sculptures of 1012.
Written By Icelyn
Oct. 11, 2019, 11:07 p.m.(1/1/1012 AR)
I feel close to the gods every day of my life. I do not always feel close to people.
Today, less so. I thank the gods for those who not only listen, but also understand.
Today, less so. I thank the gods for those who not only listen, but also understand.
Written By Calandra
Oct. 11, 2019, 10:55 p.m.(1/1/1012 AR)
A wondrous event at Elegant Impressions! A gorgeous steelsilk gown that gleamed like starlight was up for auction by the ever talented Mistress Talia and, to my delight, it happened to be a sister gown to my moonlight dress that I'm so terribly fond of. My sadness that I do not have the sunlight one, but I'm quite happy with two of these stunning outfits in my wardrobe now. I also commend Her Highness, Princess Alarissa Thrax for her bid against me, it was a very close battle. My purse will hurt a little, surely, but looking at this dress in the mirror more than soothes the sting. Now to find the perfect accessory to match!
Written By Wren
Oct. 11, 2019, 6:01 p.m.(1/1/1012 AR)
I didn't see it, but I heard a rumor that a flock of geese tumbled out of the sky dead as dead can be. How dreadful. I hope no one was injured by an unexpected goose while carrying on with their business.
Written By Aureth
Oct. 11, 2019, 2:38 p.m.(12/28/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Hamish
I am glad to welcome Archlector Hamish to his new role as Voice of the Queen of Endings. He comes very highly recommended.
Written By Alarissa
Oct. 11, 2019, 12:36 p.m.(12/28/1011 AR)
I couldn't find my ring. I was not at my best, and more than a few servants tried their best to help me find it. Last I remembered my signet ring and my wedding ring had been on my vanity since i had woken up after I had lost my arm. Its still hard to say that.
I didn't think that a simple thing like where were the rings would have set me manic looking for them. Had someone come in and taken them? The bed, the vanity, jewelry everywhere and perfume was spilled. I thought perhaps that the demon had come in and swept them off with her tail, or the children had played with them. I tore apart dresses looking through pockets and through the shelves, displacing all the dragons and in tears about where the rings were.
Maxene had them. She had placed them in a drawer in my wardrobe, so that they wouldn't get lost until I decided what to do. She forgot to tell me that she had done this. Rings. Rings set me off. I ended up sitting in the atrium for hours, trying to calm myself. I put the wedding ring in the lost alcove. Beside my brothers portrait. It's not like I can just leave the arm there. Things lost and gone and I am having trouble. I am trying, but I am having trouble and the pain does little to help me forget that there is nothing there anymore. Nor Astrid with her questions about what has happened.
Pellinor has to ride with me on the horse till I re-learrn how to ride. Petal at least, has gone above and beyond in adapting styles and making gowns that I can feel some sense of comfort in when out. I have been going out. Forcing myself to at least. I don't linger.
Nothing is the same.
No matter how much I wish it were so.
I didn't think that a simple thing like where were the rings would have set me manic looking for them. Had someone come in and taken them? The bed, the vanity, jewelry everywhere and perfume was spilled. I thought perhaps that the demon had come in and swept them off with her tail, or the children had played with them. I tore apart dresses looking through pockets and through the shelves, displacing all the dragons and in tears about where the rings were.
Maxene had them. She had placed them in a drawer in my wardrobe, so that they wouldn't get lost until I decided what to do. She forgot to tell me that she had done this. Rings. Rings set me off. I ended up sitting in the atrium for hours, trying to calm myself. I put the wedding ring in the lost alcove. Beside my brothers portrait. It's not like I can just leave the arm there. Things lost and gone and I am having trouble. I am trying, but I am having trouble and the pain does little to help me forget that there is nothing there anymore. Nor Astrid with her questions about what has happened.
Pellinor has to ride with me on the horse till I re-learrn how to ride. Petal at least, has gone above and beyond in adapting styles and making gowns that I can feel some sense of comfort in when out. I have been going out. Forcing myself to at least. I don't linger.
Nothing is the same.
No matter how much I wish it were so.
Written By Sparte
Oct. 11, 2019, 11:45 a.m.(12/28/1011 AR)
A curious phrase.
'There isn't anything new in the world except to those who are new to the world.'
I wonder if there is truth to it, or if it is just hyperbole. Either way it made me think about things from a new direction, so I'm sharing it in the hopes someone else will find it more useful than droll.
'There isn't anything new in the world except to those who are new to the world.'
I wonder if there is truth to it, or if it is just hyperbole. Either way it made me think about things from a new direction, so I'm sharing it in the hopes someone else will find it more useful than droll.
Written By Lucita
Oct. 11, 2019, 10:56 a.m.(12/28/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Miranda
I hope you are soon able to find someone to help organize your wedding plans. I well know what a headache it can be and am sorry the help to which I referred you to with confidence they would do a good job failed to respond. Perhaps they are just too busy with other political projects at the moment.
Written By Ophelia
Oct. 11, 2019, 9:56 a.m.(12/28/1011 AR)
No, I did not kill those birds...
Written By Riagnon
Oct. 11, 2019, 9:40 a.m.(12/28/1011 AR)
Can you still eat a goose if it just fell from the sky?
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.