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.

H'zlz

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

Genny,

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,

G'leuse
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Re: To G. Wynsee; From The Road

Postby Tolleson » Sat Aug 17, 2019 7:14 pm

Gloria,

I am relieved that my last letter provided comfort but admit that the fears you shared wound me. If I am honest, it is nothing more than the self-administered sting of backward glances; regretting letters unsent and words unspoken. I would suggest that necessity and the journey has made it difficult to reach you. However, I cannot help but imagine you aboard a ship, penning kind words despite it all, and my excuses become vaporous. Hesitation may be most to blame. Far too many pages have been wasted because I could not pen a sentence without scratching it out, finding the words too lame; no phrases contain the substance to convey, in any logical order, all that has happened or all I hope to say.

You are most certainly not a comma, nor a period. If the whole of my life were a book, I venture that chapters alone could not contain you. Punctuation itself, though a lovely metaphor, is inadequate and ill suited to describe the breadth of your presence and importance. Please know you are not diminished. On the contrary, whatever seeds you planted continue to blossom and fruit; sweet and sustaining. It is the most unusual feeling, unlike any other, perhaps the ground beneath us is fertile from hardships borne together?

As to your question of affection, I am afraid I have no answer but rather seek the same. It may be too bold to share but even spending each day in close company with Glenn and feeling the tug of Rhaena’s heart within me, it is still you that occupies my dreams. Each morning is a disappointment when I realize it was the normal sort and not that which had us tethered. Perhaps that magickal Dream is what has you so thoroughly embedded in my thoughts; I recall your face and feel your touch as if it were mere days or weeks, not years. As much as I once admired him, I think I would have much preferred your companionship on this journey -- and glad to hold your hair that it might ease the burden of seasickness.

We are arrived in Darras, it is a curious and cautious city that I have found far more intriguing than ostentatious Razasan. In my haste southward I overlooked much of the city. Upon returning we are slow due to a burdened cart and tired horses; resting here has provided time to explore the famous markets. The walls hide it well, flowers and silks, fruits, all manner of tinctures and tools; there is nothing that cannot be bought or bartered here. It is overwhelming to the senses, but most wonderful of all is a shop I encountered, filled from floor to ceiling with books. Tomes concerning every topic imaginable! It is a welcome distraction from the primary purpose. I have purchased several dozen texts already and am having them sent to you.

As to Inquisitory business, if Master McKinnon and the Juniors are performing admirably then I am confident you must be as well. In all our matters remain diligent and seek the truth from evidence, facts rather than conjecture. I am certain, that within Myrken and perhaps Razasan now as well, there are many who do not think favorably of Glenn Burnie; but let us reserve our judgement and treat him neutrality. It reveals too much of your unfinished work to receive him, or anyone, in any manner that deviates from your usual temperament. In instances such as these accusations provide insight to those whom you study. Their words are as much a clue to us as ours will be to them. I will take care but ask that you refrain from writing any more on the matter in missives, without the care of Daryl to deliver them directly.

Recovering lost time may be impossible, but there is time yet to be. It has been a very long time since I last laughed and I would like that very much. Let us dine and drink; I will bring you wine from some far off corner of the world that we might share it and our adventures. Until then I will breathe, remember to do this for yourself as well.

H'zlz
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Re: To G. Wynsee; From The Road

Postby Rance » Mon Aug 19, 2019 5:49 pm

The first pages are half-written, struck out, and some even crumpled. The evidence of abandoned writings, they accompany the responding letter.

I get few letters, and for this, I give great thanks, for it means I may contrebute all of my energy to those which I write to you. I wander about in the day mostly undisturbed and thus compose letter after letter after letter with the inkwell of my mind, and here is the most curious thing: I too hesitate! I too strike out many words. I too find myself unable to settle on what I beleave are the perfect ones so therefore I write the most accurate ones

I do not ever think your words lame. I admire them. They are you.

You write many sweet things to me, of blossoms and seeds, and I find myself wishing only that there were more (so selfish a sentiment, and take comfort: I find the words you write very satisfying). For here is a truth: I am not so often used to flattering words and may very well be hungry for

Hardships: many of them we have. What I most fear however is revisiting a time when I was not so bu bo boyent a presence in your life. I remember when first I discovered myself enamored with you; I feared you would be afraid of

Do ever your dreams, too, delve into fantasy? Imagined escapades and wonders, but that we share them together? Sometimes they are mundane images of us supping in a warm evening or others of us smelling of campfire smoke and boiling good tea and then there are others: you teach me to swim, or I teach you to sing, or we are dancing, and

Sometimes I get scared to write truth of feeling, for I fear I will damage us find the right words words words words why can this pen not FIND THE RIGHT WOR

The true letter, however, is the last. A dollop of late-night wax marks the page.

H'zlz,

Others would think I am clumsey with words, but mostly, I am unsure with them. When I resieve a letter from you, I am off to the office or the quarters or even to the edge of town where I may be alone with what you write. I read it many times over. I shape the words out with my mouth. Some sentences are so full of you that I must pause and wonder what they would sound like if you spoke them. That is how I spend many aggriefed nights when my head is so full of noise that I cannot sleep, I tame it by reading your words.

I struggle many times to write the first page of a letter. I have included them, these failed thoughts, because I wish you comfort: for every one word which survives upon a page, ten others are put to ruin, and yet these words are no less better than the others, rather it is that I want only the Very Best for your eyes, and must obsess over them riggerously.

The gifts you give are words both sent and unsent. Be kind to yourself: the grace of your brilliants and your kindness transend the page.

Darras sounds positivaly wondrous and I will await the books you have sent. Perhaps you will let me read of them? Perhaps this is a task we may undertake together?

Forgive me if this letter does not touch upon every nuance of yours, for it is written by a woman overtaken with her excitement for conversing with you. I will be very happy when you have returned, and were it not so pitifully selfish a request and were you any less inclined to be a woman of her promise and word, I would encourage you to depart separately and return with haste. Your dedication and compassion are however but two of your many astounding qualitys and I am proud to know you, so fair and amicable to the needs of friends.

Two curiosities:

One, I have left for you in your wardrobe a gift. Wonder upon it in the meantime; I shall provide no further hints!

Two, a man has said to me (Harpen, do you know him? It was from his stores that a poisonous fauna was stole by the Creature in Question), he has said I am afflicted with mela mello mallencolia. It is not an affliction which may be contracted; I shall see that it is completed wholly by the eve of your return, and perhaps wonder if your very presence shall render it powerless. In this, your unusual feeling, I believe, is shared: I think of you, and the air is lighter, and the day is warmer, and the nights more refreshing; I am given reprieve, and I smile.

Excitement abounds. I find myself eager to surrender my position here, in that it means your handsome presence is nearer to me than it has been in four years, and I shall be very happy to support you in your endavors, curiositys, and successes.

Yours, who breathes, and imagines herself in Dreams. For you.

G'leuse
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