To G. Wynsee; From The Road

To G. Wynsee; From The Road

Postby Tolleson » Tue Jul 16, 2019 6:57 pm

A missive arrives at the Inquisitory, needing to be hand-delivered to Miss Gloria Wynsee. The script is not as neat as it has been and the parchment is covered in a thin layer of dust from the road.

Dear Gloria,

My sweet friend, forgive me the delay in reply and for so long leaving such a burden upon your shoulders. Foremost, I hope you are well. Meager accommodations as they are, I hope too that you take advantage of my residence, are eating as many meals as you care, and that the house staff treats you as they would me. I have faith that Master McKinnon and the Juniors are assisting you with your investigations as I have instructed and continuing what work was left to them. I have no doubt that under your eye not a one of them will have the opportunity of lethargy or laxity.

Crom sent a brief note mentioning you had arrived, beyond this shallow missive details are scant, therefore, I should like you to tell me everything; most especially how you fare.

You provided such great depth of information in our last exchange and yet, even armed with all that you had shared, I had not the full understanding of your caution regarding Mister Burnie until I found him. It was a curious and terrible encounter, I have learned several things too great to pen, and yet there is a measure of relief. In truth, I might have heeded your caution better but will take care as Glenn and I share the journey back to Myrken.

I eagerly await the day that we might speak in person, to share words that cannot seem to find purchase with ink. Until then, I carry your letters and wish you to know, you are already a fond memory.


Post Script: Do not be upset with Walter, I requested he call upon the dressmaker that they might outfit you with something handsome and new; though dreams may be hard to make a reality, on this aspect of ours I should like to try.
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Re: To G. Wynsee; From The Road

Postby Rance » Wed Jul 17, 2019 6:15 am


What relief it is to resieve your letter, I confess myself having been greatly comforted by its arrival yet simultaneously afraid of its contents, that perhaps in your absence I had diminished in your eye - and by no fault of yours, but entirely of mine, for I fear I have unknowingly planted seeds all about the world which, when they shall sprout, will reveal some poor morsel of me of which even I am unaware. I fright to be the comma — insignificant enough to only cause brief pause — and yet fear, too, to be a period, for the sentence of someone's life ought not end solely with another being. Imagine my joy then when the letter in question was opened, and I smiled.

Of business matters—

The Inquisitory fares. I am hardly fit for High Inquisitorship; Corm assists greatly, and the Juniors perform their duties admirably. I currently investigate matters of the Woman with whom Glenn Burnie has found himself in league. Forgive me in advance if my reception of him upon return is neither warm nor emm am immenable, for I have uncovered something of the Woman's past criminal activity and evidence of her manipulation. Hold these warnings close: please be wary of him, in all things, and tread only too carefully around the maps of his words. They are inked by someone else, for better and for worse.

Let us speak of this more in the future, when we tire of better topics.

How ever could I be upset with Walter. He has been patient, at least patient to his greater capacity, in regards to me. I have found your residence so wholly comfortable and though I shall be too happy to see your face I shall too be sad to reside elsewhere. The fitting was performed keenly and with care, and you flatter me with the gift; I have told the dressmaker to design, but to await further instruction: I shall want it to be to your liking, and to the image most fit in your eye, for it is a foreign experience indeed to be desired deemed handsome in another's eye. Do you know what it was I thought of the other day: that it has been beyond four years since I have last lain my true gaze upon you, and yet it feels but a few weeks' time, for I can see your regal brow and fine cheeks as well as if it had been yesterday. The Dream we shared has left me with more comfort than confusion and more ease than naught. How do I better understand this affection, its natures, and its warmth, without being blinded by it?

Will we rediscover lost time? Will you offer a meager promise for this anxious heart: that we might spend a night, speaking in whispers, drinking wine, and laughing? I want for good laughter; I yearn for it. I am very tired. That which you have learned on your adventure I hope to hear, and offer my trust to you that my ear is always yours. I better have come to understand the pain of distance: yours is a journey I would have liked to take together, not for the destination, but for the companionship. (And yet if we shared a boat I would invite you to find calm in another cabin, because I would not subject you to the ugliness of my seasickness.)

Forgive if these words are aimless. They are for you. They are a singular joy.

Breathe, Genny. Will you remember to do so? If the curious and terrible strike you, in your mind, at unexpected times, remember: to breathe is uniquely under our own control, and should we need to slow the world enough to navigate it, breath is our first fuel.

If the urge strikes, write. And if the winds and stars are kind, we will share them soon enough.

Your fond memory,

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