Written By Leta
Feb. 6, 2017, 12:04 a.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
I write this because it's a right pain, and if I don't write it I'll yell it, and that'll be worse.
I know some folk don't like titles and nobles and such, and that's fine by me. That's not my way of thinking, and I've my thoughts on how I'd rather not be high-born, but that's all I have to say.
But I'd rather folk would just make up their mind, as it leaves a woman not knowing what to call folk, when one fellow will frown for calling him Prince in the baths, and another will want you flogged for not calling them by their proper title on the street, and it gets so I feel like I ought to be taking notes so I remember who to call this and who to call that, and where and when, and whether that's my Lord or your Highness, or just hey there you bastard, if you pardon.
I'm sure noble sorts get this with their mother's milk, or nursemaid more like it, or they just don't proper care, but they ought to spare a thought for us common folk who haven't had the same learning.
I know some folk don't like titles and nobles and such, and that's fine by me. That's not my way of thinking, and I've my thoughts on how I'd rather not be high-born, but that's all I have to say.
But I'd rather folk would just make up their mind, as it leaves a woman not knowing what to call folk, when one fellow will frown for calling him Prince in the baths, and another will want you flogged for not calling them by their proper title on the street, and it gets so I feel like I ought to be taking notes so I remember who to call this and who to call that, and where and when, and whether that's my Lord or your Highness, or just hey there you bastard, if you pardon.
I'm sure noble sorts get this with their mother's milk, or nursemaid more like it, or they just don't proper care, but they ought to spare a thought for us common folk who haven't had the same learning.
Written By Muiryn
Feb. 6, 2017, 12:03 a.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Morrighan
Sweet kid, and reminds me a lot of my Neve-- wild and kind, and no doubt she's equal parts trouble. Keep getting told I need to leave the Lodge more often, good thing the Bear Threads isn't too far from the Ward of Valardin.
Written By Morrighan
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:58 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Freja
Like many of the nobles in the House, Freja is one I admire. Though I've mentioned it before, I appreciate her brevity. When there is something that needs to be said, she gets straight to the point. There's no sugared words, no lessening a blow, she gives her words to you bluntly, in the way you need to hear it, rather than how you'd like to hear it. Some might perceive her as cold, but she is a woman of great strength, and I think the sort that doesn't let emotions cloud anything. I will say this: She can blush. I didn't think it possible, but I'll be damned, she can. She also has a really cute little baby vulture that apparently when full grown will swoop down on you. Enemies beware. Swooping is bad.
Written By Muiryn
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:58 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
The Greenwoods, the March...
Time moves a little slower there. The trees shiver when they freeze 'cause the winters there are so severe. Seemed like we were nowhere near anywhere known, just us and the woods.
The locals there had a sense of pride, more than most, showing up to the March just to show off. Not that it's a small group or nothing, just always seemed like it for the faces you knew, and characters that made it what it was. The four old men that sit about taking a load off, just to watch the sun pass over head; philosophizing between friends like they're born shamans by the bench of the old well. That's where they'd sit pulling out prophecies like they knew something.
Be the same thing every other day: they tell me they got advice; sure thing boys. And they tell me how the harvests will yield profit 'cause a swallow went and sat itself precariously on the right plant; conspiracies of the east and south, something wild about the north and how the spirits whisper it true. I always think to tell them the spirits would have them turned up off that seat for the shit they'd go on about. I'd never say what I'd be thinking though, 'cause I'm a gentleman, but then again most of us are.
Sometimes feels like there's no point saying where I'm from, only where I'm close to. I could bring out a map and show anyone where the March is but I'd still get looked sideways and treated like I'm backwards. And that's just fine, I'd be happy enough to go get back to where the time moves a little slower. Where a day can feel like a week, and a week like it spans a whole damn year.
Here I am, living in the days when it sounds like everyone's saying "What a time to be alive" and I still feel out of place like I'm from another realm; just seems I'm stuck in another time.
It's like we ride through life, right in the shadow of the old world. And it's never quiet at night here, not like the untamed world I left behind.
Not matter where I go, it will always be home.
Time moves a little slower there. The trees shiver when they freeze 'cause the winters there are so severe. Seemed like we were nowhere near anywhere known, just us and the woods.
The locals there had a sense of pride, more than most, showing up to the March just to show off. Not that it's a small group or nothing, just always seemed like it for the faces you knew, and characters that made it what it was. The four old men that sit about taking a load off, just to watch the sun pass over head; philosophizing between friends like they're born shamans by the bench of the old well. That's where they'd sit pulling out prophecies like they knew something.
Be the same thing every other day: they tell me they got advice; sure thing boys. And they tell me how the harvests will yield profit 'cause a swallow went and sat itself precariously on the right plant; conspiracies of the east and south, something wild about the north and how the spirits whisper it true. I always think to tell them the spirits would have them turned up off that seat for the shit they'd go on about. I'd never say what I'd be thinking though, 'cause I'm a gentleman, but then again most of us are.
Sometimes feels like there's no point saying where I'm from, only where I'm close to. I could bring out a map and show anyone where the March is but I'd still get looked sideways and treated like I'm backwards. And that's just fine, I'd be happy enough to go get back to where the time moves a little slower. Where a day can feel like a week, and a week like it spans a whole damn year.
Here I am, living in the days when it sounds like everyone's saying "What a time to be alive" and I still feel out of place like I'm from another realm; just seems I'm stuck in another time.
It's like we ride through life, right in the shadow of the old world. And it's never quiet at night here, not like the untamed world I left behind.
Not matter where I go, it will always be home.
Written By Fortunato
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:57 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Sketches. Plumes of smoke, all pale. Faces, indistinct, all indistinct, as if their heads were themselves made of smoke, as if they had no eyes save those the viewer might imagine for them. Angles of light piercing through plume and face alike, light drawn long and blade-like. In each of the corners, a small animal. Rat in the northwest, an orange bird in the northeast. A threadling white snake, southeast, a skinny-armed squid, southwest.
Written By Serafine
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:56 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
In some ways, I feel guilty for feeling happy when so many others are not. Aye, I ride out, scout, fight, kill, come home bloody and broken-boned and smelling of gods-know-what.
But there's often a bath waiting for me, and bright blue eyes not far away, the smile she saves just for me. She tsks over my wounds and fixes me up, kisses me until I forget about the things I've seen, wraps me up in those powerful arms of hers and puts me to bed in every way she possibly can.
I see her eyes get worried too, when I jump head first into things she doesn't understand. I try to explain to her that it's all tangled, that I don't make sense of it either and I just leave it be, keep turning the wheels to see what the other side brings.
I can't fathom the will of the gods, especially now. But I won't give back what They've given me. Not ever. I will simply say 'thank you' and roll over into her arms and hold tight, and count myself one of the lucky ones.
But there's often a bath waiting for me, and bright blue eyes not far away, the smile she saves just for me. She tsks over my wounds and fixes me up, kisses me until I forget about the things I've seen, wraps me up in those powerful arms of hers and puts me to bed in every way she possibly can.
I see her eyes get worried too, when I jump head first into things she doesn't understand. I try to explain to her that it's all tangled, that I don't make sense of it either and I just leave it be, keep turning the wheels to see what the other side brings.
I can't fathom the will of the gods, especially now. But I won't give back what They've given me. Not ever. I will simply say 'thank you' and roll over into her arms and hold tight, and count myself one of the lucky ones.
Written By Brianna
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:53 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Calathane
Don't let your spirit wander too far, my friend. You might not be able to find it again one day.
Written By Brianna
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:51 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Every day I feel myself slipping, some way or the other. I could burn it all down and dance in the ashes, I could cut down those in my way and enjoy the heat of their blood. Or I could enjoy a strong drink and wait until tomorrow.
Written By Fortunato
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:49 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Esera
A sketch. She is seated in the high seats of the Blackrose Theater, her eyes fixed on the stage well below, depicted smaller and more remote than perspective would demand, the distance drawn deep. Her hair streams dark against the darkness of her dress, there is hardly a separation between them, her hands are clasped over the fold of her knees. Her expression is almost that of a smile, her expression is balanced precariously on the edge of wonder.
Written By Ferrando
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:48 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
I hadn't realized asking "What about the King?" at the Commoners' Court would lead me on the path I'm currently starting down. It seemed a simple enough question, but as with many things I suppose a simple question does not necessarily lead to a simple answer. But thankfully I have friends who have been very helpful in helping me begin to find the answers to questions I hadn't even considered before.
Written By Sylvie
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:36 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
[Entered into the Archives of Gemecitta, rather than Arx.]
I cannot state how much better I feel, every day that I breath in Gemecitta air. Every day I wake in my bed on Crowned Hill. Every step I take through the city streets, walking along the crumbled wall. I must return once my task here is done, but sometimes--. I think about staying. Keeping up my evening conversations with my father, debating faith and politics. Breaking bread in the kitchens with my mother in the mornings.
I love you all, my people.
I cannot state how much better I feel, every day that I breath in Gemecitta air. Every day I wake in my bed on Crowned Hill. Every step I take through the city streets, walking along the crumbled wall. I must return once my task here is done, but sometimes--. I think about staying. Keeping up my evening conversations with my father, debating faith and politics. Breaking bread in the kitchens with my mother in the mornings.
I love you all, my people.
Written By Leta
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:35 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
I'm writing again. Don't properly know why, but I was told anything I write will please Vellichor, and I ought to please as many gods as possible. Think I've got some of them covered, others not so much.
War fills my purse, and I don't apologize for it. I don't apologize for the earning or for the spending. I bought myself red steel to fight those things coming our way, and I bought myself an earring with a pearl the size of a walnut, because it's pretty and pricey and because I can.
This time it's not blood money, not the usual kind, but the blood of unnatural things. And this makes a woman wonder whether I'd rather be fighting a proper war against common folk. I'd rather die by steel than by sorcery. But I think I'd rather kill these Bringers than people that bleed like me, not that blood on my silver ever turned my wine bitter.
I keep thinking about such things. Even caught myself wondering if I've a right to be happy when things are the way they are and folk are grieving, and even more folk are bound to be grieving soon. But it could bloody well be me next week, or the other, and in my line of work more than others, and I'd be a right fool if I kept myself from cheer because someone else is in mourning. We live while we live, not a day longer.
So that's all I was thinking of. I think I feel better after writing it. So next time I get asked if I'm happy, I believe I'll just say yes.
War fills my purse, and I don't apologize for it. I don't apologize for the earning or for the spending. I bought myself red steel to fight those things coming our way, and I bought myself an earring with a pearl the size of a walnut, because it's pretty and pricey and because I can.
This time it's not blood money, not the usual kind, but the blood of unnatural things. And this makes a woman wonder whether I'd rather be fighting a proper war against common folk. I'd rather die by steel than by sorcery. But I think I'd rather kill these Bringers than people that bleed like me, not that blood on my silver ever turned my wine bitter.
I keep thinking about such things. Even caught myself wondering if I've a right to be happy when things are the way they are and folk are grieving, and even more folk are bound to be grieving soon. But it could bloody well be me next week, or the other, and in my line of work more than others, and I'd be a right fool if I kept myself from cheer because someone else is in mourning. We live while we live, not a day longer.
So that's all I was thinking of. I think I feel better after writing it. So next time I get asked if I'm happy, I believe I'll just say yes.
Written By Anabelle
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:33 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
It all started when I took a look at the finances. Demura does pretty well at keeping us running, but she also spends so much of her time focused on warfare. Sometimes it feels like that's more her life than anything else. Honestly, there are times that I wonder if she wouldn't be happier as the Sword instead of the Marquessa, but that's her choice. I only hope that she chooses the one that'll make her happiest.
I think the part that surprised me the most is that it made me the voice. I never expected to have that sort of position in the house. I thought I would just be married off one day and that would be the end of it. I spent a lot of my time shirking my studies partly for that reason, the rest because - let's face it - studying is boring. And now look what that's earned me.
I'm the voice.
By the Gods what did I get myself into.
I think the part that surprised me the most is that it made me the voice. I never expected to have that sort of position in the house. I thought I would just be married off one day and that would be the end of it. I spent a lot of my time shirking my studies partly for that reason, the rest because - let's face it - studying is boring. And now look what that's earned me.
I'm the voice.
By the Gods what did I get myself into.
Written By Joscelin
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:25 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Silas
Note to self:
Invite Silas Mercier to my reception.
He's in my defense party, so-
Invite Silas Mercier to my reception.
He's in my defense party, so-
Written By Silas
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:09 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Unintentionally ruined the reception I organized for my sister and new brother-in-law. Go me!
Written By Neve
Feb. 5, 2017, 11:02 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Asger
I think he is my friend. I think too, that I am his. There aren't many men who would tell me that I'm ugly, but he did. I don't believe it for a minute, but it was nice of him to say so.
Written By Barric
Feb. 5, 2017, 10:55 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Luca
A prince of House Velenosa with something of a connection to House Deepwood, Luca is but all accounts a fine swordsman. Granted, I have not yet scene his swordsmanship but this is hardly a challenge to his skill. I look forward to getting into it with him. He was eager to square off against Elvesbane, but such a thing is not allowed. Still, it will be an honor to test our skill and mettle against one another.
Written By Khanne
Feb. 5, 2017, 10:55 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
There is an orchid that grows in a pot within my room. It rises tall, leaning on its friend, the stake, for support. It is not ashamed to rely on others to help it reach its heights and blossoms with pride. It speaks poetry to me, silently, and smells like blue.
Written By Freja
Feb. 5, 2017, 10:46 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
I have acquired a vulture. I think the most amusing part of this is not that his name is Dangerfloof, but that the guards are already sketched out by the way he waddles after them 'as if waiting' as they say.
Written By Rowan
Feb. 5, 2017, 10:42 p.m.(11/11/1005 AR)
Sage and Crow have arrived. The others will not be far behind. The Autumn always turns my mind to thoughts of home and family. The season has always drawn me back to them from my wanderings in the past. The twins have grown a great deal in their first year, and have brought smiles to the worried faces of many of my kin. Best of all, thought...There is no greater defense against a Muiryn than a chubby little babbling face with grabby hands. I might survive the year un-throttled.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.