Now that Daraius and Sylandra have revived and taken over the thread with their OTP-ness, here are three of my favorite missives to date, sent more than a year ago.
----------------------
You read what is written on a vibrant bird of paradise letter:
Greetings, dearest Zyphora,
Once more, my congratulations on the successful debut of your first
play, as well as a joyful and long-awaited welcome to the ranks of
playwrights at last. It has been an immense and deeply satisfying joy
watching you develop as an artist and helping you on your journey into
the High Scion of the Lady's Grand Salon and the creator of the moving,
poignant tragedy that is "Letters of Love." I have always known that you
walk in Beauty always, and it is a pleasure to see that the rest of the
Basin now knows it as well as I do.
Regarding the topic of Beauty, I have authored a brief scroll on this
elusive tenet for inclusion in the Lady's temple library. I would be
honoured if you could read it over and make any revisions or additions
as you see fit, being an undeniable expert on the subject and on Lady
Isune Herself. There is no hurry, naturally, but I do think it would be
nice to have an introductory text on Beauty for all seekers to study,
especially those initially mistaken about the nature of Beauty and its
application to Magnagora, Glomdoring, and all things tainted by the
effects of the Soulless Gods.
Again, my congratulations, my thanks, and my affection, as ever, for I
am honoured to remain after all these years
Your dear friend,
Irillia
The seal of Archmage Irillia Shevat is stamped onto the page: Within a small
square imprinted in vermilion ink, the initials I.S. are scribed in flowing
calligraphy above a miniature skybloom with wispy, curling petals.
----------------------
You read what is written on a simple red-bordered letter:
Lady Windwhisper,
On the first occasion we spoke at length to each other, another lifetime
ago it seems, I recall uttering the phrase: 'I think you could write a
good play!'
I was wrong. You have written a masterpiece.
I am thrilled to finally be able to send this triumph of roses to you on
your debut as a playwright. I only regret not being present to see its
inaugural performance. May I proffer my warmest and heartiest
congratulations to you.
As befitting the Sun-in-Glory, your light and talents shine ever
brightly. I am humbled and proud to have recognised them from the first.
Warmest regards,
Ushaara Pavok
----------------------
A folded origami crane unfolds and sings to you, "To the Lady that thawed my
heart. - T.M."
A frost flower with petals of ice falls out of a folded origami crane and into
your hands.
A folded origami crane flutters apart in wisps of vellum as the last of its
[In delicate flourishing violet-magenta ink, this script appears to be
by a fine hand with attention to artistic detail.]
To the Lady Potentate, Kallista Adonis Tremula Windwhisper -
Dear Lady Tremula,
I pen this quick note in hopes that you are not too busy to indulge me
with a request for refined clothing for one who is within my position in
the Glomdoring as well as the Basin. I will pay handsomely for your
handmade mastery, if there is such a desire within your heart to design
me a wardrobe full of beautiful things to adorn my person. In your
magnificent hands as a seamstress I see no other equal on this earth,
and it would be an honor to patron you in your art.
My hope is that upon our meeting of the last time that you were not
discouraged by the implications of the Lady Sthai. What an interesting
character, to presume to know so much of me through my kin. It is very
like those of the Engine to believe such things, given the history of
the Scythe's nature with their Masked Lord.
I hope that you shall return my correspondence as soon as possible, as I
have never written to anyone out of mutual affection. I am eager to see
us create connections through such manners of quill and ink.
Your friend most sincerely,
S. Nightshade
Dark Marshall of Glomdoring
Librarian of the Wyrden Annex
Whispered Voice of the Thorned One
Nightmare of the High Coven of Night
The seal of the Great Forest of Glomdoring is stamped onto the page: In the centre of an artfully depicted rose are the words 'F'ai Glomdoring!' in a thin, twisting typeface. Like the sharp briary serifs of the script, the inked blossom is wreathed by menacing thorns.
A sheet of wyrden rose pressed stationery is holding:
[In delicate flourishing violet-magenta ink, this script appears to be
by a fine hand with attention to artistic detail.]
To the Lady Potentate, Kallista Adonis Tremula Windwhisper -
Dear Lady Tremula,
I pen this quick note in hopes that you are not too busy to indulge me
with a request for refined clothing for one who is within my position in
the Glomdoring as well as the Basin. I will pay handsomely for your
handmade mastery, if there is such a desire within your heart to design
me a wardrobe full of beautiful things to adorn my person. In your
magnificent hands as a seamstress I see no other equal on this earth,
and it would be an honor to patron you in your art.
My hope is that upon our meeting of the last time that you were not
discouraged by the implications of the Lady Sthai. What an interesting
character, to presume to know so much of me through my kin. It is very
like those of the Engine to believe such things, given the history of
the Scythe's nature with their Masked Lord.
I hope that you shall return my correspondence as soon as possible, as I
have never written to anyone out of mutual affection. I am eager to see
us create connections through such manners of quill and ink.
Your friend most sincerely,
S. Nightshade
Dark Marshall of Glomdoring
Librarian of the Wyrden Annex
Whispered Voice of the Thorned One
Nightmare of the High Coven of Night
The seal of the Great Forest of Glomdoring is stamped onto the page: In the centre of an artfully depicted rose are the words 'F'ai Glomdoring!' in a thin, twisting typeface. Like the sharp briary serifs of the script, the inked blossom is wreathed by menacing thorns.
A sheet of wyrden rose pressed stationery is holding:
You read what is written on an elegant letter depicting the glories of Hallifax:
(The deep violet ink upon this script seems to rest on the page, with barely any indents to the letter from the slanted, looping script.)
To: [the Dark Marshall] Lady Salome Nightshade, the White Weaver Vis-a-vis: Your wardrobe and message.
My Dearest Lady Salome,
I was most honoured to receive your missive earlier in the day, and hope that I have not offended you in the haste with which I have etched a response - foregoing my usual scribes to pen the words by my own hand.
In regards to your request for clothing well befitting a noble woman, I am more than willing to acquiesce. I must admit I have scoured your form from top to bottom out of habit, as I use my Sight to measure all those I consider even acquaintances in the case I might wish to bestow upon them gifts in the form of clothing. Your kind words flatter me, and while I will accept small payment, I do not wish to ask you to form any sort of offering greater than modest for my works. You are much more to me than an acquaintance, my dear, and I would not have any friend of mine in want of proper attire. I would ask that you inform me of your favourite colours to wear, as well as which particular style of outfits you are wishing for yourself, so that I may appeal to your sensibilities.
While the Lady Sthai is a great inspiration of mine (having written many of the books I studied fastidiously during my time within the Fold of the Nihilists), I have always thought myself a fair judge of character. To compare you to your mother is to compare a mature magnolia tree to the bird which dropped her seed, after carrying her so far from the place where she was born. You hold many of the great qualities of your mother (the fangs you display in combat for one!) while holding all the graces and charm that I fear slip her grasp at times. Much as she inspired me to take up my weapons by her terrifying skill with hers, you have inspired me to remain true to my chosen path during even the most trying of times.
I do hope this missive does fill the expectations you have set for not only your self but mine, and applaud your keeping of old traditions alive. Let us slowly wither away the trees of the world with the voracity of our quills, and force the Blacktalon to seed their replacements.
Eagerly awaiting your reply,
T. Windwhisper Marquessa d'Hallifax Lady Potentate of the Symphonium Nightingale of the Enchantress the Voice of Reason to the Collective
(along the silver script at the bottom of the page, nightingales in varying shades of blue, ranging from sky to lapis and azure, dance among the words in a complex dance)
The apple is cold, crisp, and sour as the juices fill your mouth. As you consume the fruit, you glimpse, for a moment, a massive, shadowy figure, Her snow-white hair framing a perfect, icy-eyed visage. Beneath you, a vast, perfect web of silken strands lies - and, for a moment, you realize that you too are part of it, weaver and strand both - and home.
1
Cyndarinused Flamethrower! It was super effective.
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
"Oh yeah, you're a naughty mayor, aren't you? Misfile that Form MA631-D. Comptroller Shevat's got a nice gemstone disc for you, but yer gonna have to beg for it."
You read what is written on a simple red-bordered letter: Lavinya,
The Forest contains many paths. Some are confusing, some are clear, and some can only be found when Mother Night smiles upon us. Do you know what it is like to be lost in the forest? To lose yourself in the trees and darkness as you pray for help, and fight your way through. The possibility of not having you within the Commune is like that. A frightening glimpse at something I do not wish to experience. The terrifying thought of not hearing your sweet-sounding voice at the Ravenwood is not one I wish to think about. How could I live without the soft, mesmeric scent of you shifting on the leaves and breezes? How could the forest conquer without your quick wit and gilded tongue? It would be an empty life!
Oh! The look of your eyes and that smile that you gave me when I pleased you melted my heart away. I wished I could have given you a kiss right away. As soon as I see your face, my knees go weak, my heart throbs hoping to feel you near me. The way you cast your eyes in my direction mutes me. I cannot find words that are suitable to say to you! I wish I could find the courage to tell you in person.. To tell you how it feels to love you with every inch of my being. To tell you how I wish you could be cast among the Divine, a Goddess in your own right.
Were I to, one way or another, manage to raise myself to your level, would you have me? Could I steal you away from your brutish, unrefined husband and whisk you into a world that is the Summer Court in all its Wyrden splendor? Would you love me then? Could I win your heart with these things, with loving words and courtly manners? When I am stronger, better, and worthy of you, I WILL try. And I hope you will permit me at least a measure of hope.
Ej fesy il'a'lahiya N'achta oari eya.
[A single red bud has been pressed into the page, bleeding its color onto the cardstock]
1
Cyndarinused Flamethrower! It was super effective.
Awkwaaaaard.
(I never get love notes and I've been here for 200 years. What gives!)
You're not going to mention the gift I someone put inside?
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
0
Cyndarinused Flamethrower! It was super effective.
You read what is written on a leaf of deep lavender stationery:
Q'we'liar
By the time I had finished your correspondence, I reflected upon the latest news of the Glomdoring and discovered that you had shared your thoughts with the Commune.
All good and well as the article itself was well written.
I can see reflected through it what you have learned so far in my tutelage, and as an eternal student of the Glomdoring.
However your final task is your greatest yet, and though you write of it in your great plea to the Glomdoring - itself perhaps the greatest web you will have had to weave yet - you truly do not know it.
You cannot know it. It cannot know you.
For False Memory has no eyes you see, Q'we'liar - False Memory has no sight. False Memory is blind. Fale Memory is nothing.
Tell me, child: how do you know no thing? How do you understand no thing? How do you use it?
In our time we have progressed as is the secret Ways of Crow through His Aspects: we started with Dark Spirit, and you glimpsed the Heart of the Wyrd. We progressed to Black Sorrow, and you knew the Heart of your Despair. We considered your Blood Thirst, and we saw the bleeding Heart of your Passion.
False Memory is no mean feat. False Memory, when properly deployed, is the most powerful Aspect.
As they who wield no thing wield every thing.
Where do we begin then, dear Q'we'liar? You will tell me one thing.
You will write to me, and you will write in your correspondance what you think the Crowtongue is for this phrase:
They who know no thing know every thing.
Take time. Do not rush. Think back over the first three Aspects. Think over the Wyrd. Think over yourself.
I will be awaiting your response.
N'h Wyrd
E. S.
The apple is cold, crisp, and sour as the juices fill your mouth. As you consume the fruit, you glimpse, for a moment, a massive, shadowy figure, Her snow-white hair framing a perfect, icy-eyed visage. Beneath you, a vast, perfect web of silken strands lies - and, for a moment, you realize that you too are part of it, weaver and strand both - and home.
In recognition of the ease with which sacred trees can be cleared and
kept from growing into maturity, and the ease with which commune
conflict can be pushed precariously towards clearfelling, both of the
communes agree to withhold from any felling of Ravenwood or Moonhart
trees.
The seal of the Free Forest of Serenwilde is stamped onto the page: A towering image of the Moonhart
Mother Tree has been emblazoned here in scarlet ink, pixies peeking out from among its leaves.
The seal of the Free Collective of Glomdoring is stamped onto the page: In the centre of an artfully
depicted rose are the words 'F'ai Glomdoring!' in a thin, twisting typeface. Like the sharp briary
serifs of the script, the inked blossom is wreathed by menacing thorns.
I also have... The Seren-Magnagora treaty, authored by Esano!
EDIT: Wow, I forgot how long ago that was. It was signed in 260, almost two centuries ago IG.
0
SylandraJoin Queue for Mafia GamesThe Last Mafia Game
Ok so this is a letter I wrote ages ago and found while digging through old logs. I mishu @Leta. =(( (
----
To my sister of the
southern flames and pyramids, with whom I once shared the joy of the clouds and
crystal spires.
I know not what has led
you to the city of Enlightenment and Freedom. I do not need to know, for as a
Lyrethian, who am I to ask you why you choose to do what makes you happy? To
say I am glad to see you depart would be a lie. To say I wish you would return
to the home of our birth is true, but cruel. I will simply say this: may your
new home grant you much happiness. Despite both of us shedding the name that
once made us one, the memories we have created with one another transcend petty
words, create bonds that no god can shake. You are my sister, no matter where
you choose to make your home, no matter what name you take on in your travels.
Should you desire
anything from me, do not hesitate to ask. Should you feel that Hallifax is not
your friend, know that I am more than friend, but sister. Cities cannot govern
hearts, and mine is and shall always be fond of you. Should we fight, it is
merely our bodies at war, not our minds, not our souls. I am not of your guild,
and to me the flesh is but a weak thing compared to the mind. Slaying me would
mean nothing. But hardening yourself against me and rejecting me from your
heart is a death I hope to never experience.
In closing, I shall
miss you, sister. It is my greatest hope that the people of Gaudiguch treat you
like the lady that you are and with the respect one of your compassionate
spirit deserves. Fair winds, dear, and happy memories.
"Oh yeah, you're a naughty mayor, aren't you? Misfile that Form MA631-D. Comptroller Shevat's got a nice gemstone disc for you, but yer gonna have to beg for it."
Someday I hope your wand'ring feet will cease to stray
And you'll return to dance once more upon the three-fold way
----
Except you forgot to sign it (go letter system). There's a handful of likely suspects that I'm aware are even playing right now, and maybe a 50/50 chance you even look at the forums. But I kind of need exactly this sort of interaction right now, so please do keep it up.
Mayor Steingrim, the Grand Schema says to you, "Well, as I recall you kinda leave a mark whereever you go."
You read what is written on a piece of crumpled, beer-soaked stationery: Dear Hallifaxian People;
I'd like to be unenemied. While your city is full of squares and stodgy people, I don't really <here the words are smeared with what smells like raspberry jelly>, so it would be cool if I could be considered not an enemy. In return, I died and stuff.
<at the bottom of the page is a crude semblance of a dwarf with a stein in one hand and a spatula in the other. You think he might be wearing a thong, but his gut seems to obscure his waist tastefully>
Subotai Ysav'rai
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
I don't usually self quote. But seeing as this was apart of the Dreamland Event, I wanted to share a letter that I wrote about 'why Salome was acting weird,' aka 'RP got complex.'
You read what is written on a sheet of pale blue stationery: From: Salome Nightshade To: Kregarn Sablewing Subject: Regarding your correspondence
I appreciate your words, it was in fact it was a learning experience - but beyond anything that you have said. You know very little other than the initial ruse and actions between myself and the one known as Serane, other than what you have seen. I cannot blame you for an initial judgment that is interesting, and frankly, once again the most interesting piece of correspondence ever to cross my desk. However, as you are an elder just returned from the outside of the truth of the Wyrd I shall give you the benefit of the doubt, and explain myself further as most others knew of my machinations.
Your views, while understandable do not see the whole picture in which I stood. My deception allowed me to see who else was compromised by the enchantments of Serane, I was able to contact other organizations with an understanding that I was on the inside and feed them information. This information was passed on to the Court so that we could have a better understanding of the position we had within this dream. I was involved in an organization which had a special cipher that passed on reports, I spied upon the enemy, I spied upon their Higher Gods, and while however inevitable the citadel of dreams was, we were much stronger for the information that I provided, as well as the many others throughout the Basin who did the same thing. I used the 'childish fall, the sickening example of an unworthy leader' to my advantage. The entire Court knew that most of my actions were forfeit, and that I had never stopped being the Regent. Nor had I never stopped leading our people through other clandestine means. People were warped and twisted, and while I gave of this impression, nor did I give up our beliefs, my faith, my anything - The depth of deception must be endured in a time of crisis when so few were rising to do so.
I myself worked hard for the veil of reality and dream to thin by raising the throne of Mother Night, by doing the Nai'Dorin, so that we were able to actually get into contact with the Elders, to see the falsity of the Dream itself. The King Siam, was able to almost contact the Lady Viravain through the mirror, of that which you saw, among many other deeds that were a measure of Wyrden ingenuity, strength and intelligence. All of which, again you saw, and do not take into account of the actions of others that had occurred. And while others stood and questioned my behavior, I was able to work with the Elders on the other side through my contacts, the Lord Eliron also did similarly. Yet, I was the only one who stuck to it entirely in the public view. But I say to you, in my own views that resistance cannot always be visible, as much as it was childishly visible, we had no idea how long this dream would take to fall. And some would have to work the long wait if indeed we had to find other ways that the Elders could not yet attempt. And while it was indeed inevitable, we did not know when 'inevitable,' would occur.
Until the very end when the Revelations of Dreaming and the foam was that it was evident, I had worked hard to cultivate the unlikeable vision you seem to still cast upon me, lecture me with, and continue to obsess over. Then, it was all a collective effort of the Wyrd to see Serane and all of the Higher Gods brought low. And we were successful, I wonder why? Perhaps it was due to all of the work done by those who visibly were childish and attempted to play into the dream? Was their faith compromised? Did they so easily give up everything visibly, only to retain it within their hearts? These are things to think about.
I was willing to sacrifice my public image, my name, my power, my reputation, my visible faith all in deception - For the sake of waking the wyrden from a dream, is that not the pinnacle of a servant's strength, a servant's worth. But what is more important, is that a servant shall never be acknowledged for their worth or boast of it. Which is why I did not detail it all in specifics as I have done to you now, in your correspondence, I know that I have been successful, simply by the natural distaste of which my actions were taken. In that, I must humbly thank you.
I know that I have done right, I have acted right, and that I have learned much from it. Just as you have said. You are welcome to share this correspondence with those who think in similar manners of yourself, and please let me know if I can answer them or give them more examples of my views, if they are open to them.
With warm regards,
S.N.
A sheet of pale blue stationery is holding: Nothing.
The apple is cold, crisp, and sour as the juices fill your mouth. As you consume the fruit, you glimpse, for a moment, a massive, shadowy figure, Her snow-white hair framing a perfect, icy-eyed visage. Beneath you, a vast, perfect web of silken strands lies - and, for a moment, you realize that you too are part of it, weaver and strand both - and home.
I just got a letter(it was delivered by a dove, I think, or a seagull), it wasn't signed. But I can't show it here, as I think it's just a vulgur picture.
Wasn't signed or anything, so I'm not sure what to think.
FOR pposters who aren't steingrim:
0
SylandraJoin Queue for Mafia GamesThe Last Mafia Game
edited April 2016
So today I got mail. Don't be deceived, as I was, by its complimentary contents:
"My love,
I have been blessed in every moment, whether we are together or apart,by your company, your letters, even my own fond memories. I am filled with joy by your exuberance and vitality, with pride by your successes in bureaucracy and commerce, with contentment by the caring hand with which you tend to our beloved family and the artistry with which you conduct yourself. I hope you shall never feel I take for granted your companionship.
I have enclosed a small gift for you, which I hope will give you some delight. The subject matter holds little appeal for me, but I have approached it with the same care and commitment I apply to all my work. It is meant to illustrate that, though our interests and sensibilities at times diverge, I am ever grateful for your encouragement. I have grown more open to experience since my youth, to be sure, in no small part thanks to you, and I hope to continue growing alongside you even aged as we are. I am made a better citizen and civil servant by your example.
As ever, I look forward to tales of your adventures in shopkeeping and matchmaking. May you be well, and your efforts continually fruitful!
Faithfully yours in love and service,
~ D"
A parchment letter peppered with pawprints is holding:
"painting218672" a painting of oil-slick clangoru, savagely entwined
Aw, how nice--wait a minute, what?!
p painting
Hazy brush strokes of dusky grey define the smoke-choked backdrop of a rope-cordoned fighting pit, and the audience of shadows gathered to watch the scene unfold. Pairs of puce pinpoints peek through wisps of cigar smoke and errant dust, each belonging to an eager spectator who is little more than an amorphous shade. They view a scene of stark contrast: figures rendered in detail so meticulous and exacting it verges on obscenity. Honeyed rays of light play along the rippling contours of the two stout dwarves locked in a fierce embrace at the fore, their corded muscles glistening with sweat and oil as each vies for dominance. Garbed only in coarse loincloths secured about their waists with simple leather ties, the wrestlers hold low, wide stances with their feet firmly planted on the sandy floor. The nearest stands with his back turned, his arms wrapped tightly around his opponent's thick neck, every bulging muscle defined in high relief by an unsubtle application of oil. Every inch of his toned physique, from his solid shoulders to his firm, uncovered buttocks to his sculpted calves bespeaks a lifetime of conditioning for this very sport. His opponent's body is largely obscured by the mass of the foremost clangoru, but what can be seen leaves little to the imagination: the light gilding his well oiled thighs traces a sinuous course along his abdomen, and further to a firm pectoral muscle veritably etched into his chest. Burgeoning veins climb his neck, the strain of the battle evident in the grimace of pained determination writ upon his features, the beads of sweat nestled in the creases of his forehead, and the froth of white spittle bathing his clenched teeth. Shadows encroach on the lower bounds of the scene, perhaps the shady forms of still more gamblers primed for the parade of dwarven flesh, and there amid gossamer swirls of smoke and ash, painted in precise silver script in the lower right-hand corner of the canvas are the initials D.S.
It has 253 months of usefulness left.
It weighs about 37 pounds.
It bears the distinctive mark of Marquis Daraius Shevat.
"Oh yeah, you're a naughty mayor, aren't you? Misfile that Form MA631-D. Comptroller Shevat's got a nice gemstone disc for you, but yer gonna have to beg for it."
Comments
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
Ixion tells you, "// I don't think anyone else had a clue, amazing form."
(The deep violet ink upon this script seems to rest on the page, with
barely any indents to the letter from the slanted, looping script.)
To: [the Dark Marshall] Lady Salome Nightshade, the White Weaver
Vis-a-vis: Your wardrobe and message.
My Dearest Lady Salome,
I was most honoured to receive your missive earlier in the day, and hope
that I have not offended you in the haste with which I have etched a
response - foregoing my usual scribes to pen the words by my own hand.
In regards to your request for clothing well befitting a noble woman, I
am more than willing to acquiesce. I must admit I have scoured your form
from top to bottom out of habit, as I use my Sight to measure all those
I consider even acquaintances in the case I might wish to bestow upon
them gifts in the form of clothing. Your kind words flatter me, and
while I will accept small payment, I do not wish to ask you to form any
sort of offering greater than modest for my works. You are much more to
me than an acquaintance, my dear, and I would not have any friend of
mine in want of proper attire. I would ask that you inform me of your
favourite colours to wear, as well as which particular style of outfits
you are wishing for yourself, so that I may appeal to your
sensibilities.
While the Lady Sthai is a great inspiration of mine (having written many
of the books I studied fastidiously during my time within the Fold of
the Nihilists), I have always thought myself a fair judge of character.
To compare you to your mother is to compare a mature magnolia tree to
the bird which dropped her seed, after carrying her so far from the
place where she was born. You hold many of the great qualities of your
mother (the fangs you display in combat for one!) while holding all the
graces and charm that I fear slip her grasp at times. Much as she
inspired me to take up my weapons by her terrifying skill with hers, you
have inspired me to remain true to my chosen path during even the most
trying of times.
I do hope this missive does fill the expectations you have set for not
only your self but mine, and applaud your keeping of old traditions
alive. Let us slowly wither away the trees of the world with the
voracity of our quills, and force the Blacktalon to seed their
replacements.
Eagerly awaiting your reply,
T. Windwhisper
Marquessa d'Hallifax
Lady Potentate of the Symphonium
Nightingale of the Enchantress
the Voice of Reason to the Collective
(along the silver script at the bottom of the page, nightingales in
varying shades of blue, ranging from sky to lapis and azure, dance among
the words in a complex dance)
You read what is written on a storm-grey letter emblazoned with a lightning bolt:
You read what is written on a simple red-bordered letter:
Lavinya,
The Forest contains many paths. Some are confusing, some are clear, and
some can only be found when Mother Night smiles upon us. Do you know
what it is like to be lost in the forest? To lose yourself in the trees
and darkness as you pray for help, and fight your way through. The
possibility of not having you within the Commune is like that. A
frightening glimpse at something I do not wish to experience. The
terrifying thought of not hearing your sweet-sounding voice at the
Ravenwood is not one I wish to think about. How could I live without the
soft, mesmeric scent of you shifting on the leaves and breezes? How
could the forest conquer without your quick wit and gilded tongue? It
would be an empty life!
Oh! The look of your eyes and that smile that you gave me when I pleased
you melted my heart away. I wished I could have given you a kiss right
away. As soon as I see your face, my knees go weak, my heart throbs
hoping to feel you near me. The way you cast your eyes in my direction
mutes me. I cannot find words that are suitable to say to you! I wish I
could find the courage to tell you in person.. To tell you how it feels
to love you with every inch of my being. To tell you how I wish you
could be cast among the Divine, a Goddess in your own right.
Were I to, one way or another, manage to raise myself to your level,
would you have me? Could I steal you away from your brutish, unrefined
husband and whisk you into a world that is the Summer Court in all its
Wyrden splendor? Would you love me then? Could I win your heart with
these things, with loving words and courtly manners? When I am stronger,
better, and worthy of you, I WILL try. And I hope you will permit me at
least a measure of hope.
Ej fesy il'a'lahiya N'achta oari eya.
[A single red bud has been pressed into the page, bleeding its color
onto the cardstock]
Isomeone put inside?Q'we'liar
By the time I had finished your correspondence, I reflected upon the
latest news of the Glomdoring and discovered that you had shared your
thoughts with the Commune.
All good and well as the article itself was well written.
I can see reflected through it what you have learned so far in my
tutelage, and as an eternal student of the Glomdoring.
However your final task is your greatest yet, and though you write of it
in your great plea to the Glomdoring - itself perhaps the greatest web
you will have had to weave yet - you truly do not know it.
You cannot know it. It cannot know you.
For False Memory has no eyes you see, Q'we'liar - False Memory has no
sight. False Memory is blind. Fale Memory is nothing.
Tell me, child: how do you know no thing? How do you understand no
thing? How do you use it?
In our time we have progressed as is the secret Ways of Crow through His
Aspects: we started with Dark Spirit, and you glimpsed the Heart of the
Wyrd. We progressed to Black Sorrow, and you knew the Heart of your
Despair. We considered your Blood Thirst, and we saw the bleeding Heart
of your Passion.
False Memory is no mean feat. False Memory, when properly deployed, is
the most powerful Aspect.
As they who wield no thing wield every thing.
Where do we begin then, dear Q'we'liar? You will tell me one thing.
You will write to me, and you will write in your correspondance what you
think the Crowtongue is for this phrase:
They who know no thing know every thing.
Take time. Do not rush. Think back over the first three Aspects. Think
over the Wyrd. Think over yourself.
I will be awaiting your response.
N'h Wyrd
E. S.
I know not what has led you to the city of Enlightenment and Freedom. I do not need to know, for as a Lyrethian, who am I to ask you why you choose to do what makes you happy? To say I am glad to see you depart would be a lie. To say I wish you would return to the home of our birth is true, but cruel. I will simply say this: may your new home grant you much happiness. Despite both of us shedding the name that once made us one, the memories we have created with one another transcend petty words, create bonds that no god can shake. You are my sister, no matter where you choose to make your home, no matter what name you take on in your travels.
Should you desire anything from me, do not hesitate to ask. Should you feel that Hallifax is not your friend, know that I am more than friend, but sister. Cities cannot govern hearts, and mine is and shall always be fond of you. Should we fight, it is merely our bodies at war, not our minds, not our souls. I am not of your guild, and to me the flesh is but a weak thing compared to the mind. Slaying me would mean nothing. But hardening yourself against me and rejecting me from your heart is a death I hope to never experience.
In closing, I shall miss you, sister. It is my greatest hope that the people of Gaudiguch treat you like the lady that you are and with the respect one of your compassionate spirit deserves. Fair winds, dear, and happy memories.
Forever your littlest sister,
SylandraYou read what is written on a piece of crumpled, beer-soaked stationery:
Dear Hallifaxian People;
I'd like to be unenemied. While your city is full of squares and stodgy
people, I don't really <here the words are smeared with what smells like
raspberry jelly>, so it would be cool if I could be considered not an
enemy. In return, I died and stuff.
<at the bottom of the page is a crude semblance of a dwarf with a stein
in one hand and a spatula in the other. You think he might be wearing a
thong, but his gut seems to obscure his waist tastefully>
Subotai Ysav'rai
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
@Glomdoring @Celina - Your RP influenced this letter a lot.
You read what is written on a sheet of pale blue stationery:
From: Salome Nightshade
To: Kregarn Sablewing
Subject: Regarding your correspondence
I appreciate your words, it was in fact it was a learning experience -
but beyond anything that you have said. You know very little other than
the initial ruse and actions between myself and the one known as Serane,
other than what you have seen. I cannot blame you for an initial
judgment that is interesting, and frankly, once again the most
interesting piece of correspondence ever to cross my desk. However, as
you are an elder just returned from the outside of the truth of the Wyrd
I shall give you the benefit of the doubt, and explain myself further as
most others knew of my machinations.
Your views, while understandable do not see the whole picture in which I
stood. My deception allowed me to see who else was compromised by the
enchantments of Serane, I was able to contact other organizations with
an understanding that I was on the inside and feed them information.
This information was passed on to the Court so that we could have a
better understanding of the position we had within this dream. I was
involved in an organization which had a special cipher that passed on
reports, I spied upon the enemy, I spied upon their Higher Gods, and
while however inevitable the citadel of dreams was, we were much
stronger for the information that I provided, as well as the many others
throughout the Basin who did the same thing. I used the 'childish fall,
the sickening example of an unworthy leader' to my advantage. The entire
Court knew that most of my actions were forfeit, and that I had never
stopped being the Regent. Nor had I never stopped leading our people
through other clandestine means. People were warped and twisted, and
while I gave of this impression, nor did I give up our beliefs, my
faith, my anything - The depth of deception must be endured in a time of
crisis when so few were rising to do so.
I myself worked hard for the veil of reality and dream to thin by
raising the throne of Mother Night, by doing the Nai'Dorin, so that we
were able to actually get into contact with the Elders, to see the
falsity of the Dream itself. The King Siam, was able to almost contact
the Lady Viravain through the mirror, of that which you saw, among many
other deeds that were a measure of Wyrden ingenuity, strength and
intelligence. All of which, again you saw, and do not take into account
of the actions of others that had occurred. And while others stood and
questioned my behavior, I was able to work with the Elders on the other
side through my contacts, the Lord Eliron also did similarly. Yet, I was
the only one who stuck to it entirely in the public view. But I say to
you, in my own views that resistance cannot always be visible, as much
as it was childishly visible, we had no idea how long this dream would
take to fall. And some would have to work the long wait if indeed we had
to find other ways that the Elders could not yet attempt. And while it
was indeed inevitable, we did not know when 'inevitable,' would occur.
Until the very end when the Revelations of Dreaming and the foam was
that it was evident, I had worked hard to cultivate the unlikeable
vision you seem to still cast upon me, lecture me with, and continue to
obsess over. Then, it was all a collective effort of the Wyrd to see
Serane and all of the Higher Gods brought low. And we were successful, I
wonder why? Perhaps it was due to all of the work done by those who
visibly were childish and attempted to play into the dream? Was their
faith compromised? Did they so easily give up everything visibly, only
to retain it within their hearts? These are things to think about.
I was willing to sacrifice my public image, my name, my power, my
reputation, my visible faith all in deception - For the sake of waking
the wyrden from a dream, is that not the pinnacle of a servant's
strength, a servant's worth. But what is more important, is that a
servant shall never be acknowledged for their worth or boast of it.
Which is why I did not detail it all in specifics as I have done to you
now, in your correspondence, I know that I have been successful, simply
by the natural distaste of which my actions were taken. In that, I must
humbly thank you.
I know that I have done right, I have acted right, and that I have
learned much from it. Just as you have said. You are welcome to share
this correspondence with those who think in similar manners of yourself,
and please let me know if I can answer them or give them more examples
of my views, if they are open to them.
With warm regards,
S.N.
A sheet of pale blue stationery is holding:
Nothing.
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."