Peacock Gazette/Issue 18
Title: Peacock Gazette: Issue 18
Author: Various
Headline: Patience, Pinafores, and Piaere
Cysaegir is abuzz with the long-awaited re-modelling and re-opening of Piaere's Boutique - and what an opening it was.
The boutique is filled to the brim with clothing and accessories for every taste and occasion. From room to room, there are shelves, racks, and displays packed with new additions. One could spend hours browsing, though you may want to bring a snack and a strong sense of patience. Each embroidered curtain reveals more than the last, and the sheer number of options is enough to test even the most decisive shopper. Thankfully, Piaere has arranged it all with impeccable care.
If you haven't visited yet, be warned: you may go in for one thing and come out with ten.
Headline: Chalk and Capybaras: A Most Peculiar Weekend in Ta'Illistim
Ta'Illistim is no stranger to elegance, but even this city of shining towers and time-honoured restraint is occasionally overtaken by…let us say, whimsical excess. And nowhere was that more delightfully apparent than when two of Elanthia's more light-hearted holidays were celebrated with a blend of artistry, eccentricity, and possibly even one capybara wearing a hat.
Yes, dear readers, I speak of The Day of the Wandering Artist and its irrepressible twin, The Impromptu Capybara Tea Party, both of which coincided in glorious fashion on Feastday, the 19th day of Koaratos.
Missives were posted encouraging everyone to create something - anything - and many did. By late morning, the Veythorne Gardens were positively teeming with excited residents and visitors in chalk-dusted gowns and gloves. Everywhere one turned there lurked a wandering artist clutching a piece of chalk or dramatically sighing in pursuit of inspiration. The holiday, long cherished by budding artists, celebrates the idea that true beauty is transient, spontaneous, and preferably rendered in three shades of green. Some scrawled poetry on the garden pathways, others spent hours producing perfect renditions of trees and an amusing assortment of animals, and at least one budding artist attempted to capture my visage! Alas, it was met with a happy accident and smudged beyond recognition.
As if the chaos of chalk and creative angst weren't enough, Veythorne Manor took it upon itself to host that most unpredictable of events: The Impromptu Capybara Tea Party. And truly, it was a scene worth drawing itself. Blankets were laid in the shade of the trees, complete with wine glasses and porcelain teacups. Baskets of cakes, sandwiches, and other delicious goodies were devoured, many guests wearing a flower crown or newly designed hat - courtesy of the delightful seamstress, Indres Eladan Loenthra.
Whispers, of course, abounded: was this truly an impromptu event, or had a certain member of House Veythorne been planning this whimsy for weeks? The Gilded Quill's sources point to a suspiciously large order of scones placed two days prior; not to mention a courier seen delivering custom-sized tea napkins marked with tiny paw prints.
Still, whether carefully curated or gloriously chaotic, the afternoon was a triumph of joy, artistry, and companionship. If art is what you make of it, then Ta'Illistim this weekend was a masterpiece.
Headline: A Veythorne Tale Best Left Untold (But Told Anyway)
Should you ever find yourself loitering by the baskets in the Veythorne Manor souvenir shop, beware: you may hear a tale that no family archivist would dare commit to parchment. Lean in just closely enough, and the spectacled shopkeeper - whose name is never given - will lower her voice to a conspiratorial hush and begin:
"Oh, yes. That Veythorne. Maerion, his name was. Rather too clever for his own good and far too fond of poking about in things best left undisturbed. Always had ink-stained cuffs and eyes like storm glass. The family never speaks of him, of course. Officially, he died in a riding accident. Convenient, isn't it?"
So begins the tale of Maerion Veythorne, the family's most closely guarded embarrassment - banished not for politics or passion, but for an alleged affiliation with the Watchers of the Eternal Eye and the practice of sorcery. Not the charming sort found in polite court spellwork, no. This was forbidden magic, the sort that clung to forgotten corners of Elanthian history like cobwebs to an attic beam.
Our chatty shopkeeper claims Maerion began with linguistics - an innocent enough pursuit, decoding old dialects from cracked manuscripts. But, somewhere in the ink and dust, he found something else: symbols that shimmered when illuminated by moonlight, words that spoke back, pages that moved when no hand turned them.
"He had a study in a garret of the north wing, overlooking the glowbark. It's sealed now," she adds with a wink. "Not that sealing has ever stopped the occasional whisper or cold draft, mind you."
Rumour has it he wrote a secret journal in a cipher of his own making - one that remains hidden, though some believe it contains instructions on how to summon, bind, or perhaps become something else entirely. The family, in typical Veythorne fashion, responded not with alarm but with erasure. Portraits vanished. Ancestral ledgers edited. The garret shuttered.
"And yet," she says, eyes gleaming behind her spectacles, "every few centuries, some scholar gets it in their head to look into the matter. And then - poof! Vanishes to some distant post in a minor archive on Ornath. Or is offered a very fine position in Maldaye Uliael's backroom…far from any family history, you understand."
Is any of it true? The sensible citizen might scoff. But the Gilded Quill knows this much: secrets bound in leather and silence have a habit of unravelling - especially when a certain shopkeeper tugs the thread.
Headline: A Blooming Good Time
This past weekend, the Royal Arboretum played host to Ta'Illistim's most verdant affair: the Botanical Symposium, where scholars, herbalists, and curious nobles gathered beneath the leafy canopy to wax lyrical about trees, mosses and fungi, as well as discussing the finer points of flowers and showing appreciation for some new hymenopteran residents.
Led by Lord Gilenir Veythorne Illistim, the event was more than just plant lore; it was a veritable bouquet of brilliance. Highlights included a delve into Loenthran night gardens, healing secrets of the Ardenai, lively discussions on magically altered flora, and a spirited debate about whether trees and glass comply with sacred geometry (the Gilded Quill remains unconvinced).
Of course, no gathering in Ta'Illistim is complete without fashion statements among the foliage. From vine-embroidered robes to blossom-tucked tresses, the Arboretum was a feast for the eyes and guests were duly treated to complementary copies of this year's Elanthian Vogue.
One hopes this blooming success becomes an annual tradition—because, my dear readers, who doesn't love a little pollen with their politics?
Yours in ink and intrigue,
The Gilded Quill 🪶