• A Kiss With a Fist …

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    October 5, 2012 /  Thoughts

    Every time I think of him now, of that day, I wish …

    I wish I had slapped him again. No, really hit him. Bit his lip. He liked the slap too much. The Reeves were right there. I should have called out to them. But Dav forgive me! I liked the kiss.

    I struggled with hating it, or him, or both.

    In the end, I suppose that is what has happened.

     

  • Portrait of Larysa 2

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    October 5, 2012 /  Portraits

  • Something Is Missing

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    October 5, 2012 /  Thoughts

    I know I said that I was happy and content. I want to be happy and content. But there is something missing.

    I swore to Mai I would be around the Almshouse more often, but it seems that when I go there, no one else is. I go to taverns, and I feel separate from those around me. As if I am not involved enough, not only in the lives of my family, but of those who share the city with me.

    How can things change so quickly?  Perhaps I spend too much time at Silk Ribbons. Perhaps I just do not speak out enough. I long for companionship. Not just someone who wants to court me — though  I have not had a relationship like Richard since Richard, before Richard.

    One thing is for certain. I must make a change. And soon. Or I fear I will be forever lost in my own little mechanisms and world; that I simply will only exist in the memories of others.

     

  • Portrait of Larysa 1

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    October 4, 2012 /  Portraits

    Artwork done in Daz3d – In transition yet.

  • To Be or Not To Be

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    September 26, 2012 /  Thoughts

    A princess.

    I believe I will leave such vagaries to Dolly. Or to plays and operas. The songs of troubadours.

    Loken used to tell me that I would become one someday, but it seems rather than the eye of a gentleman, I catch the ire and tease of a Tubori man whose silver tongue is sharp and split like a serpent. Perhaps he is not as he projects onto others, but dare I even find out?

    Anyhow, I pass my proverbial tiara down to the imaginations of young girls.

    I cannot complain. Life is good, if not a little lonely.

     

  • Greetings and Good Will

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    September 20, 2012 /  Introduction

    Allow me to introduce myself properly, formally. I am Larysa Hanowey. I currently reside in the city of Lithmore, apprenticed under Dame Brienne ab Rhius, grand-master tailor and owner of Silk Ribbons.

    I came to the city of Lithmore at the age of fifteen, just shy of my sixteenth birthday. I had no place to specifically call home prior to finding myself, along with a few other children in and around my age, here. But for the small cot at the back of a covered wagon. My parents are – or rather, were (if you ask me) – troubadours. While they were great actors and taught me the ways of a troubadour — singing, dancing, acrobatics, and playing instruments — they were horrible parents.

    Father was a con-artist. He taught me how to slip a coin purse from a belt, how to play distraction. Disobedience often led to lashing, or no sup. So I learned to do as I was told, right or wrong, in fear of punishment. Which I have been privy to.  Mother allowed him such brutality, but fortunately, the night he removed his belt for more unsavory acts of violence against me, she stopped him. I ran away with my honor, pride and virtue in tact.

    My deeds are something I am not proud of, and I pray forgiveness daily for my sins and those who I had trespassed against, as well as those I fear I do currently.

    I kept my mouth closed on such matters for a long time and I daresay you will find me make much fuss or mention of it beyond this journal entry. It is enough. You will not find me speaking of such painful memories. That I share this with you, dear reader, is a feat of bravery I oft lack. Except when given drink. Oh, the drink is mine enemy, and looses the tongue.

    I have found a home. And friends. And happiness. I do not intend to look back. Or go back. Ever.

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