Written By Sameera
May 11, 2017, 10:35 a.m.(6/11/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Ariel
Got a silk outfit at her want. Not sure what I think of wearing it.
Written By Gailin
May 11, 2017, 1:42 a.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Written By Aureth
May 11, 2017, 1:09 a.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Serafine
Written By Serafine
May 11, 2017, 1:03 a.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Aureth
Written By Mirari
May 11, 2017, 12:55 a.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Written By Esoka
May 11, 2017, 12:24 a.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Written By Aureth
May 11, 2017, 12:09 a.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Tonight, there will be starlight. The air will taste sweet when you breathe it in. When you sleep tonight, you may dream.
Tomorrow, there will be dawn to burn away the morning mist. The city will wake with noise and color and life. There will be people everywhere, going about their lives, trying to rebuild, creating memorials to those we have lost, finding new ways forward.
Taste your food. Feel the cool water against your teeth. Notice the fabric against your skin.
You're alive.
I can't even muster petty irritation for the thousand idiotic things I heard or read or saw in the past few days. And I've seen plenty. But I can't do it. The world is alive. The city breathes. The Pantheon lives. Loss may have happened, but we are alive to grieve, to live on, to _remember_.
Life goes on.
And I love every stupid fucking banal moment of it.
I'll be pissed off again next week, no doubt, particularly if people keep saying stupid shit -- as people are wont to do -- but for now?
Tomorrow is coming, and I love it.
Written By Thena
May 10, 2017, 11:56 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
I miss the cottage in the woods where everything was clean and simple and quiet, and no one could creep up on me except for that horrible dog who belonged to our nearest neighbors, and no one cared if I couldn't come up with an elegant turn of phrase.
I miss Petrae. I miss my old life but it's gone.
Written By Tikva
May 10, 2017, 11:46 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
I am tremendously proud to have served with the archers on the wall at the Seawatch Gate. I can close my eyes and feel the energy of them around me, hear the beat of our boots against the wall, hear the scream of our arrows as we sent volley after volley at the enemy. I can feel the pounding of my heart as we watched them come, silent and inexorable, up the ladders. We cut them down and still they came. We shot them down and still they came. I felt as though I could fight forever. I was struck down, and a lady I don't know saved me; I was cornered, and the Valorous Few came to my aid, their leader grinning and cackling like a madman, and that gave me new heart to fight on.
I remembered sitting in the medics' tent with Lady Aislin, getting my blood all over her hands. I remember as we watched our comrades fighting without us, as I coughed blood from my throat, as I wanted _nothing_ in the world but to be out in the thick of it again, riding adrenaline, fighting for my oath, fighting for my people.
In that moment, I didn't think about everything else I have to be fighting for, to be living for. I could think only of how I wasn't out there, shooting them down. And in that moment of selfishness, I almost lost it all, because I came at the enemy again before I was ready, as soon as the healers finished bandaging me, I charged to the fray, and I was too stiff, too slow, and the next thing I knew the great monstrous dark thing was falling atop me and then--
The next thing I remember is a healer talking to me, I don't remember her name, a woman I don't know. I can remember how wasted I felt, like every muscle and bone I had was only pain and all of my blood was spilled already and this walking thing was only a shell of Tikva. Esoka was there, though, and she helped me get to the House of Solace.
It's a little dim. I remember whining a lot.
I remember ... whining a _lot_ ... about a promise I couldn't fulfill.
They've freed me from this sling now, and I played a little concert tonight with the fingers of both hands. It's nice to have my hands back. It's nice to have my body back. It's nice to be Tikva again.
I still have a promise to fulfill ... or two ... or ten ...
But I don't think this is a song. Heroism is worth a song or two or ten, and yet the words don't come. The music doesn't form. These aren't lyrics. This is a history.
I'm alive. Perhaps I shouldn't be. I hope this is a lesson I am never callow enough to forget.
Written By Calaudrin
May 10, 2017, 11:24 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
I don't have anything eloquent to say. Except that I'm humbled by the turnout and I thank each and every person that turned up donated to our cause.
Thank you.
Written By Juliet
May 10, 2017, 10:47 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Sanctum was interesting. The wedding ceremony was everything I expected from the Oathlands. I'm glad I had good company.
The Telmarch is an interesting place, and there are some grand vistas from the castle walls.
Written By Merek
May 10, 2017, 10:37 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Written By Cassandra
May 10, 2017, 9:22 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Niamh
I look forward to see what comes of it.
Written By Asher
May 10, 2017, 5:39 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Mira
Written By Olivia
May 10, 2017, 5:31 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Dafne
Written By Sameera
May 10, 2017, 5:29 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Written By Asher
May 10, 2017, 5:12 p.m.(6/10/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
Written By Driskell
May 10, 2017, 3:55 p.m.(6/9/1006 AR)
The main secret to this is to have the freshest white fleshed fish one can get from the fishmonger or if you're feeling more islander, fish in the morning and catch it yourself.
The second secret is one has to use the absolute sharpest knife they have and wet it in cold ocean water before each cut to prevent shredding and flaking of the flesh.
Driskell's Isle Fish Alchemy
- Two white fleshed fish, filleted and sliced.
- 6 garlic cloves, chopped quite finely.
- Three pinches of salt, preferably from evaporated Grayson tears
- Two pinches of pepper.
- Three pinches of fresh coriander, chopped coarsely
- 1 pepper chopped. I keep the seeds in but some find it too hot, hence they aren't in the kitchen.
- A dozen Saffron limes, squeeze and strain to remove the pulp.
- 1 red onion, thinly sliced like Velenosan silk.
Combine and mix all the ingredients except the onion.
Place the red onion on top and let it marinate on ice for at least 3 hours.
Before you serve, mix it well with a quick toss and lay it on a bed of lettuce with thickly sliced avocado. I also prefer to cut the top of a coconut and add Darkwater rum to the water inside to serve with this.
Written By Gisele
May 10, 2017, 3:10 p.m.(6/9/1006 AR)
The pall which lingers after a victory, when the survivors look at what they've fought for and see the wounds left by those battles; it hangs even in summer sunlight like motes of dust, inescapable. The ghost of smells clinging to hair and clothing of smoke, of rot, of blood and viscera spilled. The memory of how a blade driven into another body sends a shock up the arm. It's a jolt which prints on the bone and leaves the muscles tender, the palm stinging; like a phantom limb, that feeling returns in dreams and quiet moments. The look in the eyes of those who've lived, even when they're smiling. The places we go in our minds, pushed there by grief and the need to heal.
The sound of a city holding its breath and waiting, praying, for the next second, the next heartbeat, the next blink, against a chorus of fire and falling stone.
Written By Serafine
May 10, 2017, 1:41 p.m.(6/9/1006 AR)
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.