Written By Marian
June 15, 2019, 4:28 a.m.(4/15/1011 AR)
It's only been a few weeks but the city feels different to me. Perhaps I've spent too much time in the mountains, training my warriors. But the hustle and bustle of the citizens is loud to ears that have enjoyed the crisp crackle of a campfire. The low murmurs of men at their meals, living in brotherhood. The whispering wind bringing Petrichor's wisdom to those that stop and listen.
A mound of messages are sitting on my desk, neglected as I spend time with the children. They're getting so big. Nia has another birthday next month. She wants armor and a 'real' sword. She pouted when I told her it would be made of wood.
Twins have developed their secret language, driving their nurses mad with their antics. Although Fergus is the one that always seems to get caught. Valen is far too clever for his age.
I need to catch up with my family. Return to my duties here in Arx. Leave the winter snow to melt.
A mound of messages are sitting on my desk, neglected as I spend time with the children. They're getting so big. Nia has another birthday next month. She wants armor and a 'real' sword. She pouted when I told her it would be made of wood.
Twins have developed their secret language, driving their nurses mad with their antics. Although Fergus is the one that always seems to get caught. Valen is far too clever for his age.
I need to catch up with my family. Return to my duties here in Arx. Leave the winter snow to melt.
Written By Willow
June 15, 2019, 3:31 a.m.(4/15/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sophie
Every time I meet Sister Sophie again, I am taken anew by her warmth and kindness and the /energy/ she exudes. I don't know if I would have guessed at Mother Mercy being young if I had been asked to picture what I thought the first among Mercies might be like, but somehow when you meet her, no, it isn't necessarily what you pictured but somehow is perfect in ways you might not even have thought of.
Written By Cahal
June 15, 2019, 2:49 a.m.(4/15/1011 AR)
Lately i've been doing a lot of thinking about berserkers. Men and women who's rage and fury grows so great in battle that they gain the ability to endure astonishing injuries and perform the most gruelling feats.
On the surface it feels like a useful thing. Combat isn't something that comes natural to most people. Imagine what it would be like to just be able to turn it on and off like that?
But its a rare thing in this life that is not as good as it is bad.
How exactly DO you turn it off? What if your wife causes you slip into that state of mind where you can do nothing but kill and maim?
How do you live with yourself knowing that one wrong move might be all that it takes to cause you to do something that you can never, ever, live with afterwards.
Its hardly a surprise to read about so many of the men and women who have this ability killing themselves. But I'm sure there has to be a way to control it. I doubt it will be easy but surely we owe it to them to try?
On the surface it feels like a useful thing. Combat isn't something that comes natural to most people. Imagine what it would be like to just be able to turn it on and off like that?
But its a rare thing in this life that is not as good as it is bad.
How exactly DO you turn it off? What if your wife causes you slip into that state of mind where you can do nothing but kill and maim?
How do you live with yourself knowing that one wrong move might be all that it takes to cause you to do something that you can never, ever, live with afterwards.
Its hardly a surprise to read about so many of the men and women who have this ability killing themselves. But I'm sure there has to be a way to control it. I doubt it will be easy but surely we owe it to them to try?
Written By Cahal
June 15, 2019, 2:34 a.m.(4/15/1011 AR)
Right now I bet the clouds are pouring through the valley by my parents house to turn the world into that strange pale dream which vanishes once the sun has truly risen as if it were never there. Except for a thousand starlike dewdrops clinging to the shoots of wheat out in the fields. I miss that. Even when I remember how last time I was there, watching that mist, I was cold and miserable and couldn't wait to get away.
I miss my brothers (yes even you K) even if I am appreciating being the tallest man in the room more often than not.
I'm dreading the summer. June has only just started and already I can tell that I'm going to spend a lot of time sitting under trees wishing for the cool of the night.
Yet, despite that. I think I will grow to love Arx even more than I love those hills. All these people should make it claustrophobic, chaotic and busy but somehow thats not what its like at all. Instead there is a buzz of activity. Of Life. Of potential. And its really quite infectious. Even if I do miss climbing and hunting out on the red hills. And there are people here that I am already fond of. I probably shouldnt mention them here, so I wont, but I hope that they know who they are.
Written By Ajax
June 15, 2019, 1:58 a.m.(4/15/1011 AR)
Spring, my bones hurt less. It's time for business. So much to do. It's strange to be focusing so much on my own efforts this year. I worry for my men. But I am trying to not linger too much over them as they mark their marks in the city proper.
Written By Mailys
June 14, 2019, 11:21 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Ari
It seems there's now a Knight in the family! Maybe I should get him a gift? Shatter a bottle over his head to bless him for this new voyage?
Written By Kedehern
June 14, 2019, 9:34 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Cristoph
Sometimes I worry about the Duke, knowing now that he grew up on the advice of deceptive buttocks, and women after his granary.
Though I suppose as a Duke, there are likely several people after his granary.
I have faith in Duchess Nicia that she'll guard his granaries well, and keep a strict account book in their regard.
Though I suppose as a Duke, there are likely several people after his granary.
I have faith in Duchess Nicia that she'll guard his granaries well, and keep a strict account book in their regard.
Written By Joscelin
June 14, 2019, 9:09 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Joss smashed a butterfly today. He was chasing it through our little garden and ran into the house with it, then clapped his hands right on it when he wanted it to stay. It crushed it into the kitchen counter. He looked devastated the moment after, looked up at me and started to shake, didn't dare move his hands.
In the moment I saw him and his eyes, how they welled up like the emotion him was starting to, I remembered a conversation with someone about his mother. Ianthe was always wandering off, here and there, then joining caravans and ships on trade-routes. My mother used to fret over this, I suspect for the very reason Myrinda didn't; there were dangers out there, adventures. Myrinda, I think, knew Ianthe was strong enough. My mother and even I saw Ianthe as the baby who cried from bad dreams, who clung so hard when we hugged her. It was different for us. But the conversation I had with my mother impressed upon me the strength it takes to be one, to care for someone from when they were so small to what they grow in to.
"I could keep her with us always," my mother told me, watching Ianthe pack a bag for what had to have been her seventh trip out the gates that year, "but it would crush her wings to make her stay. You can't ever do that, Josie. You can't ever make her do what she doesn't want to. It isn't who she is. Let her be and grow, love her, but let her leave as often as she wants. I think you are 'home', and she'll always come back. It might just take longer some times."
Or something like that. My memory gets fuzzy. They never tell you that, scholar, that with childbirth comes loss of memory. You gain wits, to be sure, but I swear sometimes I can't remember much past Tuesday.
We buried the butterfly in the garden. I moved one of the large conch shells Ianthe brought me back and Oliver carved in to after we were married, and put it over its little grave. Joss stopped crying but he was sad for a while, went back inside when the sun set and hugged Mongoose until he fell asleep. I just moved him to the bed and tucked him in.
Sleeping, he is so much like his mother, and yet even when she slept she looked troubled. Joss sleeps without a care in the world, through the night, laughing in the morning over his dreams.
In the moment I saw him and his eyes, how they welled up like the emotion him was starting to, I remembered a conversation with someone about his mother. Ianthe was always wandering off, here and there, then joining caravans and ships on trade-routes. My mother used to fret over this, I suspect for the very reason Myrinda didn't; there were dangers out there, adventures. Myrinda, I think, knew Ianthe was strong enough. My mother and even I saw Ianthe as the baby who cried from bad dreams, who clung so hard when we hugged her. It was different for us. But the conversation I had with my mother impressed upon me the strength it takes to be one, to care for someone from when they were so small to what they grow in to.
"I could keep her with us always," my mother told me, watching Ianthe pack a bag for what had to have been her seventh trip out the gates that year, "but it would crush her wings to make her stay. You can't ever do that, Josie. You can't ever make her do what she doesn't want to. It isn't who she is. Let her be and grow, love her, but let her leave as often as she wants. I think you are 'home', and she'll always come back. It might just take longer some times."
Or something like that. My memory gets fuzzy. They never tell you that, scholar, that with childbirth comes loss of memory. You gain wits, to be sure, but I swear sometimes I can't remember much past Tuesday.
We buried the butterfly in the garden. I moved one of the large conch shells Ianthe brought me back and Oliver carved in to after we were married, and put it over its little grave. Joss stopped crying but he was sad for a while, went back inside when the sun set and hugged Mongoose until he fell asleep. I just moved him to the bed and tucked him in.
Sleeping, he is so much like his mother, and yet even when she slept she looked troubled. Joss sleeps without a care in the world, through the night, laughing in the morning over his dreams.
Written By Joscelin
June 14, 2019, 8:59 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Dear Ianthe,
I baked your favorite tarts today. The berry ones. You said they were as good as my scones so I only made them on your birthday and special occassions. So I made twenty four, to share with my customers and the children (and steal a few for me).
I left them out to cool.
An hour later they were all gone. I found a very sleepy boy with a very round belly dozing next to a very guilty looking deerhound when I came back.
I'm trying to stay mad at him. I really am. Stern-mother-face. I'm going to need a life-like mask, this is impossible. Did you know how hard it is -not- to laugh at him? Laugh with him? He keeps trying to make me smile and gods it's so hard not to crack.
He's impossible and he's just like you. I love him so much.
But... twenty-four tarts....! He's as bad as you are!
Your sister always until the end of time,
Josie
I baked your favorite tarts today. The berry ones. You said they were as good as my scones so I only made them on your birthday and special occassions. So I made twenty four, to share with my customers and the children (and steal a few for me).
I left them out to cool.
An hour later they were all gone. I found a very sleepy boy with a very round belly dozing next to a very guilty looking deerhound when I came back.
I'm trying to stay mad at him. I really am. Stern-mother-face. I'm going to need a life-like mask, this is impossible. Did you know how hard it is -not- to laugh at him? Laugh with him? He keeps trying to make me smile and gods it's so hard not to crack.
He's impossible and he's just like you. I love him so much.
But... twenty-four tarts....! He's as bad as you are!
Your sister always until the end of time,
Josie
Written By Vitalis
June 14, 2019, 7:13 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Take care setting remembrances at Copper's statue in the Hall of Heroes.
While at the Hall, First Captain Corban, her Highness Princess Lark, and I saw a nest with three speckled bright blue eggs in it tucked right in between Copper's feet. We didn't know what sort of bird they were. If you see them hatch, or the parents hovering, let me know. I'm curious.
While at the Hall, First Captain Corban, her Highness Princess Lark, and I saw a nest with three speckled bright blue eggs in it tucked right in between Copper's feet. We didn't know what sort of bird they were. If you see them hatch, or the parents hovering, let me know. I'm curious.
Written By Evander
June 14, 2019, 6:45 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
My time in the Shrine of the Thirteenth is at an end. I spent longer there than I had to because for all the reflecting I got to do - the visits of the many friends and family who came by, as well as the questions and history posed by the Mirrormasks - made me realize I had more to think about than I first imagined.
Becoming a Godsworn - even becoming a Disciple - is not a thing to be taken lightly. Vows never are. And yet while we can be certain in our beliefs right at this moment, what we believe we will do, and will be willing to do, are things that change over time as we also change.
I will admit, my time in the Shrine was more unsettling and uncomfortable than I would have liked, and not just for the austerity or the mirrors. But it was time well worth investing, certainly.
Becoming a Godsworn - even becoming a Disciple - is not a thing to be taken lightly. Vows never are. And yet while we can be certain in our beliefs right at this moment, what we believe we will do, and will be willing to do, are things that change over time as we also change.
I will admit, my time in the Shrine was more unsettling and uncomfortable than I would have liked, and not just for the austerity or the mirrors. But it was time well worth investing, certainly.
Written By Juniper
June 14, 2019, 6:09 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
I will never be a proper scholar. I lead with heart, not head, and when I sound confident and knowledgeable, it comes from intuition rather than intelligence. Those who are capable of digesting information, of analyzing it, of understanding through reason and study...
They impress me so much. Vellichor hasn't blessed me but I have all of the admiration in the world for those he does favour. My blessing comes from being close to those with such abilities.
They impress me so much. Vellichor hasn't blessed me but I have all of the admiration in the world for those he does favour. My blessing comes from being close to those with such abilities.
Written By Evangeline
June 14, 2019, 6:04 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
The city of Arx has not disappointed me since I arrived. I have met the most intriguing individuals, have had the opportunity to work in the political arena and of course, dabble a little in my first passion which is of course, writing. I have been sitting with my assistant, who is also an apprentice Whisper, writing every morning, practicing penmanship, and drafting letters for my clients who are ripe with passion but lack dearly in the art of written language.
It does not surprise me there are some who assume I would be willing to sell these illicit secrets. These are not even my stories to tell. What happens between my clients and my quill and parchment stays there. Do not kill the messenger.
It does not surprise me there are some who assume I would be willing to sell these illicit secrets. These are not even my stories to tell. What happens between my clients and my quill and parchment stays there. Do not kill the messenger.
Written By Evangeline
June 14, 2019, 5:57 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Willow
I often save high praise for those who are truly deserving. From the moment we met, I knew we would become fast friends. Little did I know this would be trouble but it is the best sort of trouble I know.
Written By Khanne
June 14, 2019, 5:33 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
I've been in my thoughts a lot lately; having bouts of nostalgia, feeling romantic, and wistful. I look out the window and I swear the sky is a brighter shade of blue. When I walk through the streets or along the paths, I find myself softly humming a song I would not be able to name if I were asked. And at night, when I wrap a soft, knitted blanket about my shoulders, I can't help but smile as I cocoon myself in warmth against the chill that breezes in through my slightly opened window...
I've been so busy planning things, meeting with people to plan things, setting plans in place to do things, that my mind missed what my subconscious did not. It is Spring! My favorite of all the seasons (shh... don't tell the others, they are all special in their own way). Spring! Beautiful, amazing, heartwarming, mood lifting, Spring!
Welcome back, Spring, I have missed you.
I've been so busy planning things, meeting with people to plan things, setting plans in place to do things, that my mind missed what my subconscious did not. It is Spring! My favorite of all the seasons (shh... don't tell the others, they are all special in their own way). Spring! Beautiful, amazing, heartwarming, mood lifting, Spring!
Welcome back, Spring, I have missed you.
Written By Vincenzo
June 14, 2019, 5:28 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Brianna
I think everyone should have a copy of Lady Brianna's "Everyone Is Your Friend" be given to them on the day they become an adult.
It's a cheatsheet to win at things you can't win.
It's a cheatsheet to win at things you can't win.
Written By Miranda
June 14, 2019, 4:57 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Each day the sun rises and my to-do list grows longer and longer. I am uncertain of where to begin.
Routines, I favor, to start. The comfort of the same old, same old; of knowing what is coming next, is relaxing to my soul.
Still, once the usual things are managed, half the day has gone and my to-do list is not much smaller.
I suppose to get to each thing requires prioritizing, but some things cannot be left for later and other things... shouldn't be.
Routines, I favor, to start. The comfort of the same old, same old; of knowing what is coming next, is relaxing to my soul.
Still, once the usual things are managed, half the day has gone and my to-do list is not much smaller.
I suppose to get to each thing requires prioritizing, but some things cannot be left for later and other things... shouldn't be.
Written By Saoirse
June 14, 2019, 4:06 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Thea
...No, I do not believe that is a thing.
Written By Juniper
June 14, 2019, 4:04 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Petrichor was the first god we came to know in the mountains. There was no escaping him. Our camp had carved a little space for humanity out of rock and forest. When I was allowed to toddle from our hut for the first time, I was greeted by the purple mountains with their white caps, with the fervent green shadows of old trees and the sound of water trickling over stone. His cycle dictated our lives, as it did for all living things there. The clever goats with their crowns of horn were his, and the screaming cats, and the grumpy bears keen on sleep.
Petrichor was the first god we came to know, and the first god we came to take for granted-- and sometimes to resent, if a big cat took one of our scouts, or our tiny gardens failed to produce. Not all of us looked to the Faith there but those who did, I remember them grumbling about a poor harvest, or hissing grief over a person lost. Prayers or rage didn't matter. These things would happen, because that was the cycle, and the price of living surrounded by wilderness. We carved ourselves a little space but we only borrowed it from something greater than ourselves.
I always pictured him a distant sort of god. Not distant through distance but distant because nature is implacable and keeps to its rules, no matter what. It will have its way in spite of our best efforts. Its dream is a deep thing, slow and endless.
Petrichor was the first god we came to know, and the first god we came to take for granted-- and sometimes to resent, if a big cat took one of our scouts, or our tiny gardens failed to produce. Not all of us looked to the Faith there but those who did, I remember them grumbling about a poor harvest, or hissing grief over a person lost. Prayers or rage didn't matter. These things would happen, because that was the cycle, and the price of living surrounded by wilderness. We carved ourselves a little space but we only borrowed it from something greater than ourselves.
I always pictured him a distant sort of god. Not distant through distance but distant because nature is implacable and keeps to its rules, no matter what. It will have its way in spite of our best efforts. Its dream is a deep thing, slow and endless.
Written By Bliss
June 14, 2019, 3:53 p.m.(4/14/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Arcadia
Lady Arcadia Leary has recently claimed that her rabbit "seems the most errant in all of Arx".
After what Flopsy did this morning to the bolts of seatouched wool I am having prepared, I desperately needed that laugh.
After what Flopsy did this morning to the bolts of seatouched wool I am having prepared, I desperately needed that laugh.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.