JoanOfArc
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A painted sign hung above the inn door, a man standing on one foot with his arms thrown in the air: Hardin’s Leap. As they drew rein in front of the square stone building, the sweeper straightened, yawning fiercely. He gave a start at Perrin’s eyes, but his own already protruding eyes went wide when they fell on Loial. With his wide mouth and no chin to speak of, he looked something like a frog.
[...]
Shivering, Perrin leaned his head against the cage door. He may not have fur, but he’s a wolf. He’s wolf, not man. Light, help me.
“We didn’t keep him here always,” Simion said suddenly. “He was at Mother Roon’s house, but she and I got Master Harod to move him here after the Whitecloaks came. They always have a list of names, Darkfriends they’re looking for. It was Noam’s eyes, you see. One of the names the Whitecloaks had was a fellow named Perrin Aybara, a blacksmith. They said he has yellow eyes, and runs with wolves. You can see why I didn’t want them to know about Noam.”
Perrin turned his head enough to look at Simion over his shoulder. “Do you think this Perrin Aybara is a Darkfriend?”
“A Darkfriend wouldn’t care if my brother died in a cage. I suppose she found you soon after it happened. In time to help. I wish she’d come to Jarra a few months ago.”
Perrin was ashamed that he had ever compared the man to a frog. “And I wish she could have done something for him.” Burn me, I wish she could. Suddenly it burst on him that the whole village must know about Noam. About his eyes. “Simion, would you bring me something to eat in my room?” Master Harod and the rest might have been too taken with staring at Loial to notice his eyes before, but they surely would if he ate in the common room.
“Of course. And in the morning, too. You don’t have to come down until you are ready to get on your horse.”
“You are a good man, Simion. A good man.” Simion looked so pleased that Perrin felt ashamed all over again.
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☦︎
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There is one rule, above all others, for being a man. Whatever comes, face it on your feet.
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There has to be a price, Rand. There is always a price.
Perhaps I can pay it here.
It is every man's right, Rand, to choose when to Sheathe the Sword.
Even one like me.
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Been a while man. Hope you doing well. In my prayers with Anton again and lighting a candle for you. The guys wish you the best always.
I got into a book series I thought you would have been interested with your bard. There is a gleeman (singer, musician, story-teller, juggler, etc) in Wheel of Time named Thom Merrilin. Every time I listen about him, I always think about the bard you have. It's how I imagine he would have played and been. Here's a song he preforms in the show. Think you would like it.
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"Let me ask you something."
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"Just one last thing."
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"It won't hurt, I promise."
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"What was I, to you?"
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"What do you mean?"
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"You're a soldier."
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"A soldier with a promising future ahead of you."
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"You're a soldier."
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"And you're a ghost, aren't you?"
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"What?"
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"Feelings pass right through you, don't they?"
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"So cold and unforgiving in every choice you made in battle."
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"Pure soldier."
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"I think that's what let us trust you-"
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"Don't talk, save you strength."
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"I don't need it."
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"I need you be strong."
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"Strong enough to do what you've never done in your life."
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"Can you be strong enough to allow yourself to be...."
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"Can you just be human?"
And that's when it happened. That's when I truly became a ghost. Just a shadow, surrounded by death.
Look at the moon.
I never noticed how beautiful the moons are here.
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When the War of the Hundred Years ended, a man rode from one nation into another without end from the Blight to the Sea of Storms. Now we can ride through wilderness claimed by no nation for almost the whole of the land. We in the Borderlands have our battle with the Blight to keep us strong, and whole. Perhaps they did not have what they needed to keep them strong.
You say they failed, Builder? Yes, they failed, and what nation standing whole today will fail tomorrow? We are being swept away, humankind. Swept away like flotsam on a flood. How long until there is nothing left but the Borderlands?
How long before we, too, go under, and there is nothing left but Trollocs and Myrddraal all the way to the Sea of Storms?
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The ideal embodied in Launcelot is “escapism” in a sense never dreamed of by those who use that word; it offers the only possible escape from a world divided between wolves who do not understand, and sheep who cannot defend, the things which make life desirable. There was, to be sure, a rumour in the last century that wolves would gradually become extinct by some natural process; but this seems to have been an exaggeration
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Christ is born! Merry Christmas!
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Surprisingly, Stannis smiled at that.
“You’re bold enough to be a Stark. Yes, I should have come sooner."
"If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty, when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.”
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“A sacrifice will prove our faith still burns true, Sire,” Clayton Suggs had told the king.
And Godry the Giantslayer said, “The old gods of the north have sent this storm upon us. Only R’hllor can end it. We must give him an unbeliever.”
“Half my army is made up of unbelievers,” Stannis had replied. “I will have no burnings. Pray harder.”
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"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies" was a quote that stuck with me from Jojen after reading through ASOIAF. While it sounded very robotic, I realized it is a beautiful representation of the lives we take over while reading stories. The confusion of entering a world that leaves you behind, like Scipio Aemilianus; the depression of seeing your wife grow weaker and weaker until she dies, like Jiro Horikoshi; or, despite not knowing if it is your purpose, fighting for a brighter future for your people, like the Nerevarine. Yet, when darkness approaches at night, I cannot help but miss some of the stories or think more about them. How is Violet in her happy ever after, or Sulla and Caesar, did you believe your deaths were in vain? I felt your deaths sting despite them being two thousand years ago.
We live a thousand lives, but in these glass lenses that start at the time of their story and end at the time of their victory or death. Like you told me once, Crusader Kings showed how men, who die so young, might still have fulfilled their purpose where the player fulfills. But I cannot help but want more. Even the humble Rand Al'Thor, in a series of books that go on and on, I cannot help but fear it. Frodo only wrote so much. There is a finite amount of books, yet here my life will still go on. If I wish to revisit them, I watch the movie again, through their same glass lenses.
The dreamer in the White Nights, after learning to love and losing that love, finally awakes from his dream. He understands the world better through that fiction played in his head with his beloved Nastenka. But when he awakes, he also sees the wrinkles of his maid and how he may never learn to be together.
Perhaps it is like the dreamer thinks. He had a moment of bliss awakening from the daydream of another life. And it meant all the world to him.
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"What are you saying to me! I don't understand you in the least. But tell me, what's this for; I don't mean what for, but why are you . . . so suddenly. . . . Oh dear, I am talking nonsense! But you . . ."
And Nastenka broke off in confusion. Her cheeks flamed; she dropped her eyes.
"What's to be done, Nastenka, what am I to do? I am to blame. I have abused your . . . But no, no, I am not to blame, Nastenka; I feel that, I know that, because my heart tells me I am right, for I cannot hurt you in any way, I cannot wound you! I was your friend, but I am still your friend, I have betrayed no trust. Here my tears are falling, Nastenka. Let them flow, let them flow—they don't hurt anybody. They will dry, Nastenka."
"Sit down, sit down," she said, making me sit down on the seat. "Oh, my God!"
"No, Nastenka, I won't sit down; I cannot stay here any longer, you cannot see me again; I will tell you everything and go away. I only want to say that you would never have found out that I loved you. I should have kept my secret. I would not have worried you at such a moment with my egoism. No! But I could not resist it now; you spoke of it yourself, it is your fault, your fault and not mine. You cannot drive me away from you. . . ."
"No, no, I don't drive you away, no!" said Nastenka, concealing her confusion as best she could, poor child.
"You don't drive me away? No! But I meant to run from you myself. I will go away, but first I will tell you all, for when you were crying here I could not sit unmoved, when you wept, when you were in torture at being—at being—I will speak of it, Nastenka—at being forsaken, at your love being repulsed, I felt that in my heart there was so much love for you, Nastenka, so much love! And it seemed so bitter that I could not help you with my love, that my heart was breaking and I . . . I could not be silent, I had to speak, Nastenka, I had to speak!"
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May your sky always be clear,May your dear smile always be bright and happy,And may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happinessWhich you gave to another lonely and grateful heart.Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life? My God, a moment of bliss.
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But as he stood watching Carthage burn, Scipio Aemilianus reflected on the fate of this once great power. Overcome with emotion, he cried. His friend and mentor, Polybius, approached and asked why Aemilianus was crying. What better outcome can any man hope for?
Aemilianus replied, "A glorious moment, Polybius; but I have a dread foreboding that some day the same doom will be pronounced on my own country."
According to Roman tradition, Aemilianus then quoted a line from Homer: “A day will come when sacred Troy shall perish, And Priam and his people shall be slain.”
Aemilianus knew that no power endures indefinitely, that all empires must fall, and that there is nothing mortals can do about it.
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You finding @Milenkhovhidden in the Palace after you declare war
(he will keep moving forward)
(I have the Survey Corp sleeper rally on coming to save him)
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