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Written By Tyrus

Dec. 2, 2020, 8:12 p.m.(7/1/1014 AR)

To be whole again... There is something powerful in being so, after having known what it was like to be lesser, to be only a piece of the true self.

Not to worry, I've learnt my lesson.

Written By Yuri

Dec. 2, 2020, 5:52 p.m.(7/1/1014 AR)

A month or so on my own in the city bore its own set of trials and tribulations, but nothing I would not have been able to handle. Nothing that I have not handled already. I have worked up quite a list of friends and acquaintances. But, in my pursuit of an independent life, Mother was not written to once in two weeks. I will leave it in my erring that made her come to this decision, but apparently that was her final nerve!

And so, Bartolomeo was sent up from the south some time ago. He only recently arrived to the Villa this morning, of all things! I did not mind Bartolomeo back home but he was /too/ attentive. Always writing, always watching. Always clicking and tutting when there was a slight. Perhaps he's changed some but I can only imagine what his goal is here in Arx. Hopefully, on some parallel road, he, too, will find his liberation moving to the city.

Yet, of what I heard from the guards recently, I will be disappointed. Gravely disappointed.

Written By Ciro

Dec. 2, 2020, 5:21 p.m.(7/1/1014 AR)

The only drinking problem I've ever had is finding where my clothes have gone off to.

Written By Sunaia

Dec. 2, 2020, 1:16 p.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

I leave - I return.

I leave again - I return again.

I realize that dark, richly packed dirt and leaf litter and grasses are kinder on bared feet than the pathways of the city. Walk around long enough without boots and the soles of the feet get hard and calloused like the paw pads of the hounds I run with. With and alongside. We run. We hunt. We eat when we're hungry and sleep when we're weary.

I know it's a danger to be in the woods these days, but, when I think about how the dangers lurk everywhere around us - I would rather risk the freedom of forests than the confines of the city.

I leave - I return.

Yes, I wouldn't trade this freedom for anything.

Written By Amari

Dec. 2, 2020, 12:24 p.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

I'm for the north again. I never honestly thought I'd be seeing so much of my mother's homeland. Though I will always love the wild woods of Oakhaven, it's hard to deny the stark majesty of the Crovane mountains and the beauty of a world sleeping silent and serene under a blanket of pristine white snow. Unfortunately, I won't be there to enjoy the scenery.

The cruelty of the tidings delivered so unexpectedly shocked me to the core. My heart has become like a solid lump of ice in my chest. I still don't quite believe what's being presumed, and won't until I see it with my own eyes. No matter what, there will be an 'and beyond' to this story, I promise that. Whether it's written in blood, or howled with rage into the bitter Everwinter winds, it will be finished only when the crawling filth and rot responsible is scoured clean.

Written By Sapphira

Dec. 2, 2020, 12:22 p.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Oddmun

I can scarcely believe Oddmun and I are wed at last. All the waiting, the courtship, every moment was worth it. It was a lovely private ceremony, as we could not bear to wait a moment longer. Our immediate kin were in attendance, and we look forward to a more public celebration soon. For now, we are enjoying the time together, and appreciating it for the miracle that it truly is.

Written By Bree

Dec. 2, 2020, 11:21 a.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

"The only books that the waves can read are made of stone and salt."

I have never been any good at riddles.

Written By Amari

Dec. 2, 2020, 11:15 a.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

I may have had the idea, but without others (you know who you are) seeing it through and being wonderful, it would have remained just that; an idea. It's very gratifying to see and I think in many cases so far, it's had the desired effect.

Yes, I know I'm being incredibly vague, but making plain all the details would ruin the fun of it.

Written By Ember

Dec. 2, 2020, 10:53 a.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

I do not enjoy writing about my feelings, and yet my ladies-in-waiting insist that doing so may unburden me of their weight. I do so only to quiet their incessant "helpful" reminders, lest I grow irritated and unburden myself of my ladies-in-waiting. This year's group is particularly good and so I do not want to lose them prematurely.

In every arena of my life I stare down seas blanketed by the thickest of fog. What appears to be smooth sailing, I am told is perilous with jagged rocks. What appears to be certain doom, I am told is the way forward. Another voice speaks, to tell me that both ways are folly, and that the map I have trusted my entire life is written wrong, and has been misleading myself and others since the moments of our births.

Beyond this, there are the matters of the heart. Those who are most dear to me are those who are beyond my reach. Those for whom I would cast aside noble imperatives and consider the scandal of a marriage based on...

I have written too much and do not care to write anymore. My ladies-in-waiting will have to make do with the ink that is here, and no more.

Written By Piccola

Dec. 2, 2020, 10:17 a.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

Reflect, wise general, on your pain.

For as long as I could remember, I was abandoned. My siblings and I were taught that the strong survive to rule by parents who believed that the fate wrought by time should not be an impediment but merely a problem to overcome. When we were exiled, my father suffered his destiny but my mother chose hers, being nowhere when I was to learn how to be a lady rather than a survivor. And when the rest of my family scattered to the wind -- our pasts made it impossible to trust one another -- I too became a leaf on the wind.

And then I was summoned to serve my House once more.

But my House cannot be around me at all times. The nights in which I drank myself to sleep are not so far behind that I cannot feel their touch at the back of my neck. I feel all too much the sensation of being alone, but not lonely, in a crowd of peers who smile and laugh together, warmed by the sort of company they are familiar with. But I can neither attend dances surrounded by sellswords nor expect to be embraced by those who will judge me not on where I have been but where I have been. My hands are empty; my arms strained; and my eyes dried.

You must believe, wise general, that there is a greater purpose for your suffering than simply to be tempered by it.

Written By Oddmun

Dec. 2, 2020, 9:52 a.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

I do not post to my whites often. I fear that I do not have much to say and do not come across as witty as many of the others I catch glimpses of.

But Sapphira believes I should keep something for the future. Since she is now my wife, I suppose it is sage advice.

The foaling season is in full swing and the latest courses are looking to be a fine bunch. I have a few colts I need to show to Princess Zara for her help when I first came to the city.

I also need to remember to ask Sasha who it was that she said to speak to on my dreams. They are still happening. Though I suppose it is too late to assist with the Eurusi. With everyone preparing for the inevitability of war; I find myself listless and unsure how to help the houses that depend on me.

Something else I will need to look into.

Written By Strozza

Dec. 2, 2020, 9:47 a.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

What do you see before you now?
At the end of your latest silent trek?
A rodent to catch with skill to wow?
Foolish we, for you see only a dusty speck.

Written By Lianne

Dec. 2, 2020, 7:55 a.m.(6/28/1014 AR)

I woke to find the sky had one less star than I remember.

Did it disappear while I was sleeping or did I dream a different sky?

Written By Macario

Dec. 1, 2020, 11:39 p.m.(6/27/1014 AR)

While I don't find myself particularly fond of dark corners of libraries, there's lots to be said about the law, and the battle between legal minds. Are battling barristers likely to die from a sword wound through the gut? Well, not too likely anyway, but one can't minimize the dangers inside and outside of the courtroom. Still, while fights might solve many disagreements, sometimes a good legal argument can be more satisfy. I mean, what's worth more, a pounding of a fist or the pounding heart of a lawyer arguing their case?

I ask you, because I've asked this question a few times, and you'll never guess the popular response? The pounding of the fist. Still... occasionally we can do things differently, right? Like trying a red wine instead of the usual white...

Written By Piccola

Dec. 1, 2020, 8:03 p.m.(6/27/1014 AR)

A wise man asked me what honor was.

For many, honor is the way you treat others. But this is a form of conduct. We honor the Gods; we honor the dead; and we honor our agreements. This is not what the wise man meant.

It is more difficult to describe what honor is. The consistency of doing what one says one will is honorable, but it is not honor to me. For me, honor is made up of the quiet things that no one ever knows. This is that desirable conduct which others find in us and means the most to those who step onto the battlefield. It is worth dying for; it is worth killing for.

Knowing what is the right thing to do is a matter of wisdom. Seeing it through is a matter of courage. And never seeking payment for it is honor.

Do well and mind your honor, wise general.

Written By Valencia

Dec. 1, 2020, 7:38 p.m.(6/27/1014 AR)

In the face of evil or injustice, we all fight back in our own way.

Some with weapon and others with words. Some with acts of public defiance, while others quietly work for the cause in ways we will never see or hear about.

All of this, this heart, this unshrinking strength, this resiliency, is essential as we face and defeat our foes.

Together, we shall rise. Together, we shall prevail.

After all, we are Arvani.

~~~~~<~<~<@

Written By Eirene

Dec. 1, 2020, 11:04 a.m.(6/26/1014 AR)

Nothing annoys me more than a problem I can't diagnose, can't treat, can't fucking FIX. I know not all maladies have cures, not every poison has a remedy, and not every life can be saved... but I'll be damned if I don't TRY to keep my patients on the Wheel a little longer. And when faced with something I can't see, can't touch, can't remedy... I get pissy. (More than usual, Scholar).

It doesn't make sense. None of it does. It defies rhyme, reason, and natural philosophy. Fucking HATE IT.

Written By Orland

Dec. 1, 2020, 2:15 a.m.(6/25/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Lasha

Thoughts of a Friend, Patron, and ....

A sudden clash found us at odds. But then, we're not, not now. It took long conversations to devise a way to get around the unfortunate first impressions. We talked. Of family. I was abandoned in a different way than he, but my life, could have been his, and his could have been mine. The way we are is how we were spat out by the Wheel. Still, I will never know what it is to have experiences of a mother or father, so I can't relate to many stories he's told. Not understanding that I can't understand, has lead to some interesting nights.

Truthfully, he reminded me I abandoned the other type of family as much as I was abandoned, myself. It was hard to accept, harder to hear, but upon running into Culler's who didn't like my silks (but what do they know of fashion), it was easier to accept what I did and then I understood. I made decisions, for me. I got myself where I am. I made the Choices. What of those that abandoned me? Where they forced to make Choices, for their own survival? Would they be out there wondering what had befallen me?

No, I tell myself, that is a fantasy.

Lasha allowed me to live it for a few moments in that fantasy, before the haze wore off and I made him my protege.

Written By Orland

Dec. 1, 2020, 1:54 a.m.(6/25/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Calla

Thoughts of a Friend:

She came to me first, at a birthday party. That was the choice she made, to approach me, introduce herself, but when the party was over, she made efforts to continue. Efforts that I will appreciate. Efforts that did not mirror in others. It was a kindness, that I later learned, which was mutual. We both understand the position of the other is in and find it easy to share conversation, evasive as she is with her answers. Though I can't blame her for that. I have stumbled and made a snap decision early on, but, she didn't hold that against me. I am relieved. I feel a little bit more like myself around her too, after the card games. I find I'm a lot less than what I'm to be and more of who I was, still, an odd combination of both. It is a comfort to know, that there can be things such a friends. I have another to thank for opening me up to that realm of possibility.

But I still wonder, can people, exist, without an agenda? Is it in our nature to have a relationship without their desires guiding them...

Desire...

A strong word.

Written By Dio

Dec. 1, 2020, 12:52 a.m.(6/25/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Ciro

Elonzo made arrangements with traders, and we were flush after many days at sea. Rum flowed in the palazzo, and the crew made plans to shower Princess Valencia's Hart in silver. Suddenly Lord Ciro entered, shoeless as a babe on an Ischian beach, carrying a bottle of cheap liquor. Having other responsibilities, I retried to my suite, and, after some tedious book keeping, I seized the opportunity to catch up with my cousin at the Hart.

Lord Ciro, who some hours earlier had been in the most dissolute state, stood before a tower of silver, with a flock of courtiers and visiting nobles. We shared several drinks, and I gambled away some coin. The crew was raucous but merry, and an alluring courtier chose me for her dance partner. Having enjoyed the pleasures of the Hart, I retired to the palazzo.

The next day, I saw my cousin pass through the hall wearing some handsome new boots. Gamblers throughout the city are no doubt rubbing their hands.

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