seol_plumfall: (astro)

This is a story about a king who had one daughter. This young princess was famous throughout the small kingdom for her gentleness and wisdom, and the farmers and merchants would request her help with their disputes whenever she toured the towns and countryside. The people loved and trusted her judgment, and the king, too, loved her very much.

The eighth decenniversary of the princess's birth approached, and her father wished to host a banquet in her honor. But he found himself in a quandary. He wished to import the finest, rarest luxuries for her – the blushing peaches frosted with moonlight from the northernmost forests of Kalimdor or the fragrant violet berries plucked from the mountains of southern Terokkar. But his was but a small kingdom, and with his limited wealth, he could only furnish the banquet one of these two delicacies. Only the sweetest fruit in the world would do for his peerless daughter, and he did not know whether to trust the bards of Darnassus or those of Shattrath, who both sang paeans to the bounty of their respective homelands.

And so one day... )
seol_plumfall: (astro)

Today we met Sir Champion OF EVIL!

He is a Scarlet Crusader. He is mean, breathes smoke, smells bad, and sells drugs. (bad drugs.) And he is a paladin. Therefore he needs to die in a Consecrate to learn of love and peace!

Be wary Stormwind!!! Sir Champion is in you!

Seol 41 ← Astrolabe 23 → Seol 42
seol_plumfall: (seol)
Piled on a desk in an Aldor library: old notebooks full of scribbles, finely rendered landscapes, chaotic frenzies of stick figures; many copies of the same schoolhouse workbooks, painfully simple ones, with angry black marks or looping scribbles filling the answer blanks. A sketchbook, a real luxury item with bright white paper, a purple and gold Aldor symbol on the front, and not one drawing inside; a sewing kit, a set of blade-pens, a box of pigments; tiny bags of dried herbs that still smelled nice. And an envelope, stuffed fat with half-finished paper cuttings, figures carefully glued together, loose circles and triangles and squares.

At the front, on top of a small journal open to a page of neat Thalassian, a collection of notes scrawled in messy Common on bits of scrap paper, some slightly oil-stained as if they had been procured from a fishmonger. Collections of words: "feel" ... "things" ... "to be" ... "to grow" ... grouped by circles or linked by arrows, sometimes accompanied by small illustrative diagrams.

Read more... )
seol_plumfall: (astro)

Hello Seol

I do not like to write journal. To write is very hard. My to noodle is sticky on words. The words stay in door. I am very sad and angry. So I am bad and do not wrote journal. In your ear is different. To talk is better.

But you are ill. So I write journal. Read more... )