Emeraven

In the deepest vaults of the Sorel estate, there are three books. Their records do not recall where these books came from, and did not record when they passed into the family's possession, they had been there as long as any could recall. These three books tell the tale of a extraordinary family from the stars. One tells of the golden child, who had the power of light. This power helped her see clearer and greater than you could ever imagine. She walked a path of light and found many treasures along the way, treasures that had been hidden in the darkness. She would walk this path with dance and song, and the endless rhythm of the beating circle. Life would be her ally, as life followed the light and kept her young. Another tells of the darken child, who was always surrounded by shadows, and they were her friends. The shadows protected like the wings of a great raven, and were quick to warn of impending doom, the dark protects. The dark nourishes too, the book explained, that deep dark warmth sustaining the bodies who lived out the light. The darken child new this, and could use this, to do wonders that none could see. The death was her ally and walked beside her like an old friend. The last book, spoke of the star child, the being that created the children. The being that could change all around her to fit, could change herself to meld, and change others to grow. She would lead the children of the stars, bright in the darkness, unharmed by the light. She had found these scattered stars and taught them of the world around them, and how to change it. She protected and guided them, for they were her children. For all that she did, she earned a title that would last as long as they existed. Mother. Does she now, walk among us?

Many a sailor has talked about storms on the horizon, and it is often used to events about to break on the shores of the present. People will comment how calm it is, and how the storm will break soon. A calm before the storm of events. I have felt such a calm of late, not that there have been troubles, but overall things are expectant. It is as if people and well the world is holding its breath in expectation of things. This is the energy I feel of late, and I am not the only other to feel the same. But the nature of storms has always interested me, they are these powerful forces, most would call them destructive. But I love them. They have a power like none other I have experienced, they lift my heart and I feel that energy deep inside of me. To mean they are not destructive, they are full of meaning, and a reminder. There are many powerful beings, even among the mortal, but even to them a storm can affect them. Very few are immune to its energy, even if it is only to take not of its presence, the storm cannot be ignored. But there is something I often wonder, what do storms look like, do they have a form? Do they just form squares or large walls of clouds. Do they have a pattern, or a motion, how do they move? Do storms just grow in clumps, how do they gather together, or do they fall into place? I want to be able to see the storm in full, the fast clouds and rain and wind and look at it like you would a flower. From far away it would move slowly, spinning in its own breeze, gathering its own clouds. A shape caught for just moment, preserved. It would be like...

Secrets tend to come to me, and I often do not know what to do with them. Do I hoard them like precious gems, or sharing them like a gift given freely. Do I have that many of my own, well yes of course many and wide variety. I truly do not share them with many at all, outside my clan. A secret has come to me from a company mate, I know for her it is a burden but it will be an adjustment for others as well. Do I warn them or keep this trust in me? Perhaps I can do both. However this secret brings to light many others, and it seems the path is laid out before me. There are changes coming, but it is not the big ones that interest me, but the small every day ones. For this company I think there will be several of these little secrets. I do hope the party is a success, I for one know the salve such a event can be, and with the soft and soothing music of the waves nearby, the warm sun and the lovely wind, I hope hearts minds and souls will be eased. There are times I wish I could be like the sea, by my very being soothing the hearts minds and souls of those around me, as I have read of my predecessors in the journal. In my secret dreams, my childish fantasies I imagine loving all those around me. A dawning star, in the blackness of forever.

The company is not that safe right now, I am frustrated by no action. However I have plenty to keep my bow string taunt and arrows blooded. I think my power came out a few nights hence. I cannot remember much, it was as if the power came up from within me and I could not stop it. I still have the arrow and cannot help holding it and wondering just what I did that night, even though it seems to be unsuccessful. I suppose I should talk to someone about this, and find out just what is happening. Mayhap just a effect of my practice of late, it may be baring fruit at last, I just wish I had more control. Learning a little Doman from one of the company mates, very young girl I feel, I hope she does not develop a obsession about me. As time grows my bond with rosey does the same, we are a partnership, ivory and thorn, roses wound round each other, ready for what ever journey is in front of us.

To where we first met You will find another clue To bring you to me A wonderful night Did we share carnal pleasure At this hidden spring A pretty sunset The calming sound of the waves Here I fell in love Such, a wonderful day

I woke up from a dream, and wrote it down. I could see myself, or not quite myself, repeated through endless variations. Are these the woman that have born the same name as I? I have only had them described, in stories, I do not know if they are even true. What are they to me, are they like sisters, or copies. Reflections of myself, or am I really, their reflections. I watch them as they perform their abilities, some are like me, just skilled. But then, there are others, who I cannot imagine having such power. Is it power, or just a skill I do not know? Often beside them, is a sister, even if it is in spirit. An then there is Mother, always, there. Somehow she is always the same, even if she looks different. I can just recognize her every time I see her. Is she here, watching me? I have so many questions without answers.

I have skill with a bow, it seems so natural, and like some of my race I was taught at a early age. First it was to hunt, then when I left the tribe, it was to survive. You learn something when your skill determines if you want to eat. You learn awareness, you learn determination, you learn to not be distracted from your goal. Everything is about the slow moment before the action. In that moment you decide to kill something to live. You cannot hold back, you cannot do half effort, doing less than you can do is disrespectful to the creature you take life from. That is what I was taught, a very traditional tribal way of looking at the hunt. It has been so long since those early lessons, and perhaps I forgot what is important about it. But I know things now that, that scrawny child with messy hair never knew, my own strength. Somewhere along that journey, my own strength became something I feared, because it was different. Because it marked me apart from others. I hid that part of myself, I conformed, and followed my new tribe of adventurers. I did not want to be marked as different, I wanted to be, accepted. That not only disrespected my opponents, but also, disrespected myself. Tonight my partner asked me to train against her. I asked her to keep me safe, from myself, to protect me from my own gifts. Only then can I let go and see, just how far these talents of mine will take me.

Death is something we know from a young age, or at least I did. When you are brought up a hunter you know that things die. You see it first hand and you feel the blood on your hands and the shuttering last breath of your prey. It is a part of your life, it feeds you and clothes you, its bones become weapons and tools. There is a certain respect to that death. Children are also a part of your life, especially mine. In the tribe, in my own clan and my own dear daughter. You expect them to grow and become something else in the future. Perhaps a parent of their own child. There are always cycles I see in life, but then there are times where I see nothing. The death of a child is hard, what purpose does it serve, none that I know. You barely had time to know what they would be. But today I buried a child that had not been born, was it a child at all? The greatness of the loss, not of who they were, but who they could have been. The many different possibilities that were lost, the paths never trodden. It is not just the death of a unborn child, it is the death of a universe of possibilities that will never be.

Pinned to the noticeboard in the Quicksand a page reads: 'Z' you do amuse me You wish me dead? Then find me The Rose

Secrets, as has been said, are those things you do not what known. But that is not all, because if it is told, it is no longer a secret, as they say. But who has shared a secret and found a special feeling with those they tell. It is a valued and special thing a few can share, but after more know it seems to loose its value. Does a secret decrease in value the more that know? There seems to be no set number, when a secret is no longer valued, but then there are many types of secrets and a myriad of values. There are those that deal in secrets, it is a valuable trade in certain quarters. Are these the merchants or the thieves? Can a secret be traded, surely its value is in knowing a secret that others do not? Which usually includes the one you took the secret from. It seems traders in secrets are more thieves than merchants. But the trade still caries on, for people love secrets. Then there the special ones, the ones, just one, you share your secrets with. These small and important parts of your life that define you, and shape who you are. That one, that you tell the most important secret too 'I love you'. An after that, share a number of little secrets if you are fortunate. Those, those are the true artisans of the secret. Works of beauty, that no eyes will see.

Pinned to the Noticeboard in the Quicksand a page reads: Petals have fallen Tonberry Lantern Cyril D'ai and S'honji Perhaps we should do business? The Rose

On a table at the Carline Canopy a note reads: I am not a weapon to grab for, fool Now tha was lovely Everything and everyone is a weapon

A note stuck to a market board in Mist: A dangerous path Friends like Cyril I am sure you would be safe

Parchment stuck in the plants of Ruby Road Exchange reads: Spokesgirl for the Tonberry Lantern Minimal Nudity Papers you disagree with

A cloth patch, in a jacket displayed in the Sunsilk Tapestries: D'ai Head of security The Circle S'honji bringing people the into room during security checks Rather friendly

A scrap of paper stuck in the nets at Fisherman's Bottom: Urban Legend "Corull Man" Gil for East La Noscea Distressed Ferry Skipper

a scroll on a sapphire avenue merchants table: White hair about things she should not be telling Dark hair will find out some day Things to kill, people to piss off, women to torture

A scrap of paper fluttering around the pearl lane: Haru and a Privateer named Kyalia Dotes on Sugin Brave Warden and his misses Who is the adulteress?

I cannot sleep, and I watch my daughters breathing form in the bed beside me. It was very hard to sleep in a cold bed, after so long together. She is happy enough, reading in the garden or visiting the city, but she knows I just need someone around me right now. My Rosey, I miss your scent, your warmth, you silly sense of humor and the way we play together. I pray to your own chosen guardian, you will return soon, for I find it hard when your away. My calm and my heart are both threatened by the turmoil of daily life, and I keep a smiling face to those around me. I only feel truly safe in your arms.

Eternity is a long time, yet I see a lot of people talk of it, like it is some goal to be achieved. To me that does not make sense. You cannot achieve something that would last forever, but its very nature it will never reach its goal. yet, for some it is the goal they set themselves on, and then, weep when they fall short. Why set yourself an impossible task? Because is such an impossible ideal for me to achieve, it seems, so far off, it seems so immeasurable, I could never think of ever working to reach such a goal. So I have not. An yet, the impossible has happened in my life, it seems such a paradox, that the unreachable has appeared before me, and I have it. Eternity is like that I suppose, something that everyone thinks is impossible, but yet we do achieve it. Each moment, each touch, each kiss, is a eternity in of itself. Eternity is not a measure of how long you are doing something, but a measure of how often the time stops and you find yourself in another's arms. These little eternities are what should be our goal, no matter how long they last, if you have even a handful of such moments, then yes, you have eternity with the one you love.

I am home, such a simple thing, but it has so many meanings. For some it is a place that they can feel comfortable, safe and relaxed. For some it is those they have around them, their family or friends or lovers. I always search for my home, and as a Finder it is not easier a task than anyone else. I surrounded myself in so much, wanting to build a home like one would build a fortress or a palace. I think I thought that if I had so many then it would not end, or it would not go away, or I could not loose it. But that is wrong, it did go away. More often than I like to think about. So perhaps there is a better way. How much do you need to be at home? Birds have a nest, it is something small they share, they make it themselves and share it with their mate. Is it that simple? Perhaps the devotion, the strength of the bond is more important than the number items involved. Perhaps a small cottage is far safer, than a large mansion. You cannot loose yourself in a mansion, and your always closer to the things you love. Yes, I am home.

And she said she wanted to hug me...I know better :blush:

Trust is something I have struggled with all my life, you could of course say that my ill start is to blame, and also what followed. But I think perhaps it was my refusal to see the worst in people, that has left me open to experiences, which have further damaged my trust in others. Perhaps I left myself too open, but I know I am very closed hearted these days. So how does one build trust with me? I am difficult, I know this, I watch everything and remember. I analyse and compare, I wish my mind would not do this. I know it will take some time to trust Rosey fully. It pains me. What have I become? I am seeing all these bonds form, around me, and I want this for myself. I hope will be ready, but I know I am not ready now. I still ache for such things. I still long for arms around me at night, the warmth against mine, the presence of someone in my life. The bond formed not of material things, but the day after day of their presence in my life. The simple words, brief but meaningful gestures, love letters and little treats. Yes, those, do build my trust. I have to believe in what I have, that those things I long for, are here to stay. I have to work for them, make time for them, devote myself to them. Nothing is ever a simple promise.

Hmm interesting challenge, but this one has always stood out for Eme: lWhM_x_g6p4 But also this is a good song for her emotions too: j8QQDFJ_D-E

I have heard much talk about what makes a home, that it is the people who share it that make it a place of the living. I think that is true, but it is also the items they wish to decorate or use in their home that help give the place. Many have memories of shared times, or a history of their own which they bring into this new home. They can be symbolic or practical in purpose, but even the most mundane item can be given meaning through experience. A house itself is molded by those who live in it, and over time take on a personality of its own, made from our experiences in it. So it always a good thing to remember, that when you live with someone, your experiences will color the space you life in. It can both good and bad, and effort should be put into make the space enjoyable for all involved. Or a home will rot from the inside, in my own experience at least.