TALES OF THE HEIRESS' Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in
TALES OF THE HEIRESS' LiveJournal:
|Tuesday, July 22nd, 2008|
The Book of Azriel // Chaptaire Five
Inn, Edge of the Galyedian Plains
At the precise moment in time when the coreworm fell and the young swordsman recovered his sword, two young noblewomen sat disgruntled on rickety chairs in a small and dusty inn, a dish of water between them. They were not in the best of spirits, which was to be expected what with the quite unexpected turn of events.
Amalia grumbled, switching her legs so that the right leg was now crossed on top of the left at the knee, resting her elbow on it. Her younger companion gave her a look as if to say 'and you judge me for lack of manners.' She shrugged in return. "It's not as if there is anyone here to judge either of us."
They sighed in unison.
"I don't see how leaving us here, in a dusty bin of a place and without an escort, is better than going into Ques and seeking Our Lady's refuge." said Sonia.
Amalie would have quickly defended the General Major's honor if...well, it were not true. A rare lapse of judgment that she would be sure to mention to him when they met again. "What do you propose we do about it?" She asked instead.
|Sunday, September 9th, 2007|
THE BOOK OF AZRIEL // Chaptaire Four
The Earthen Chapel, Ques.
The great bells of the chapel did not ring at eventide. In stark contrast to the discord outside, the inner-sanctuary of the cathedral was eerily calm. A small group of White Castors, summoned from the Isle of Eeres almost immediately after the Eternia's arrival, stood silently in one corner while the resident order of Earthen Castors watched them with distrust. The doors to the cathedral were sealed shut with Earthen Ancients so the fighting could not extend into the holy ground. No one could now get in or out. The civilians the White Castors were instructed to save could not be reached.
On the other side of the city, two souls made their way swiftly towards the bloody beacon.
|Sunday, August 19th, 2007|
THE BOOK OF AZRIEL // Chaptaire Three
The Artisan's Jewel, Ques.
Under any other circumstance, Ques would have been considered a jewel amongst the often-violent sands of the Shamìna Desert. With Belares to the west and only the small oasis village of Pisca between them, it was the only town for many hundred miles. Ques was known for two things: its unique breads and its beautiful blown and stained glass, the desert climate providing the perfect natural baking hearth and glass-making conditions.
The chapel, in particular, was exquisite—completely constructed from stained glass created by Ques’ legendary artisans; it loomed above the town like a spire ascending to Astler’s realm shining blue and green speckles of bejeweled light onto the buildings below, marking the time as the sun shone through it on its path across His mantle. The glass was bonded by the Ancients as well, arising from the daily prayers of the Earthen Castors who gathered there every morning and evening, singing the hymns of Shamìna, fourth disciple of Astler and patron guardian of Fire and Earth Castors.
Tonight, however, the Castors were in their haven and the light radiating from the chapel shone red in accordance to the blood now splattered on the sacred glass. Evening peace prayers were replaced by the cries of those that lay dead and dying in the streets.
|Thursday, August 9th, 2007|
THE BOOK OF AZRIEL // Chaptaire Two
Somewhere in the Galyedian Plains-
The smoke and dust rises from the torn carriage and elevates into the afternoon sky. A faint breeze blows across the plains and carries the dust elsewhere, and as it clears, the four former occupants of the carriage find themselves before an armed, red-haired young man, bow and arrow poised to strike again, aiming for Amalie.
Draw your weapons if you wish to protect her.
|Friday, August 3rd, 2007|
THE BOOK OF AZRIEL // Chaptaire One
The Temple of Time, Luda
"Dong...Dong...Dong. The bells in the steeple of the Church of Azriel calmed gradually, though their rich, vibrant sound still stirred the hearts of the people in the town square below. Noon.
The day was warm, rather warm, in fact, though that was expected in the summer time. The sun shone brightly, illuminating the white cobblestones of the castle and the exquisite stained glass of the church, in the shadow of which the whole town lay. All in all, it was the sort of day that was pleasant, if not slow and utterly ordinary.
The Artisans District was the busiest on Saturdays, and the whole market area held the smell of sweat and promise. It is here, my dear friends, that our story begins. It began with a swordsmith and a thief."
PROLOGUE // An-keta -- The Seekers
These travelers were not from this land, yet they had a worldly air about them. They could have only been keta, or nomads, as my mother calls them. However, those of my own age prefer to think of them on other terms; we call them an-keta, or "seekers." We always liked to believe that these people were on a quest for treasure, traveling all the way from the west shore to the east shore; that they traveled for a purpose instead of just wandering from one place to the other.
It reminded me of a story I was once told. I remember it well, for how could one ever forget a story that one oneself was in?
It all began with a song.
~ an excerpt of "Memoir" by Amalia Lauraline Nharine-Dessindé, Duchess of Luda