[Filter: Davan]

I must ask. Are we still planning to grab what we can carry and scurry away into the night, or was there some wonderous chance that was no more than a momentary lunacy that has since passed?

I only ask because I'd noticed you furtively glancing about, and I'd like some warning before you grab my arm and tear off with me.

Unlike some complete idiot, I am not going to inscribe patriotic songs in massive letters all across the pages of your journal.

Nor am I going to wish anybody a Happy Day of Long Summer at all, because there is absolutely nothing to be happy about. This country is utterly ridiculous and the fact that it's managed to survive for this long is a ( Read more... )

[Filter: Davan]

I'm very curious as to your opinion on this crucial matter.

If we were to inform our dear lords and masters that their caravan route apparently may soon become a war zone, what would they do, exactly?

I've narrowed it down to several options, myself, all of which fill me with a creeping sense of trepidation. Merchants have no ( Read more... )

[Filter: Davan]

I'm very curious as to your opinion on this crucial matter.

If we were to inform our dear lords and masters that their caravan route apparently may soon become a war zone, what would they do, exactly?

I've narrowed it down to several options, myself, all of which fill me with a creeping sense of trepidation.

[Filter: Davan]

Let me ask you a question. Why is it that when I say something, regardless of how sensible and logical and entirely sincere it is, everyone always treats it as if I've spat in their gaping mouths?

Is it entirely because I'm scornful, derisive, and contemptuous of everything anyone says? Because that doesn't mean I can't also say ( Read more... )

You know who I hate?

Merchants.

Ridiculous, puffed up men and the occassional woman, who think that what they do is so important. Always fussing over their records, going through their precious inventories, mumbling about routes and supply while staring down their piggish noses, and, oh yes, treating their employees worse than their packhorses ( Read more... )

Mercenary work.

Certainly never where I saw my life ending up. Selling my arm to the chief babies in petty disputes, letting myself rise and fall at their beck and call. Well, at the beck and call of their dollar, in any case. Hardly a glamorous lifestyle.

But I'm not sure where I did see my life going. Away from Quen, and that's happened. I ( Read more... )

Oh, charming.

What do we have here, with the army of plebes gathered around, slack-jawed, muttering? Why, it's another of these little Forna notices, uniform as always.

I have to ask, M, since you're apparently here lurking in a corner like those Pillars and Messengers. You may still be able to impress sour-smelling, fur-clad peasants, but the ( Read more... )

[Filter: Private]

And what about me?

How do I feel about this talk of the corrupt government of Korin being brought down, and then order and decency rising up from its freezing, miserable ashes. It's all well and good to play devil's advocate to everyone else's thoughts on the matter, but it's quite another to try and deduce my ownIt's not that I ( Read more... )

Dragons.

Everywhere I turn, lately, they're some new manifesto posted on a door or a wall or a hanging in a bar. Always saying those same things -- evil overlords, revolution, Forna, ~M. The novelty has certainly started wearing off, but people are still talking about it. I suppose I can grudingly admit there may be some staying power to this ( Read more... )