To an Elf and her Charge

[Rance]

Cherny, you may stop by the house to see Noura if you wish.

They had not been words meant for a seamstress, but they had been heard nonetheless.

By young courier -- and the couriers had returned to their routes with relish; Rhaena's death had inspired a momentary inflation in the price of letter-delivery -- a package wrapped in butcher's paper arrived to Solena's manor. Underneath the waxed parchment wrapping was a stern little box that contained several very familiar artifacts: an age-browned skull, human, a whelp's precious treasure; a small rack of antlers carved with a number of foreign runes; finally, a makeshift pair of wings cobbled together from various smaller bones and feathers.

Underneath these coveted relics was a simple letter on black-smeared paper. The words were bereft of anything but necessity.

Noura,

It is not my right to keep these, there is no need for them to be hiden any longer, I cannot abide Beatrice's gaze any longer, they are yours now that the red and gould are gone.

Be well,

Glour'eya

The courier delivered a second letter to a LADY OF KNIVES. The letter would be quite familiar to Solena, written in her own Elvish script and wrinkled from nearly a year's worth of age -- but it had been folded and preserved with care, if yellowed further by the months.

The seamstress' handwriting was clear and careful. Her ink was drawn on the back of the page.

Solena,

You have said well enough what you must in spokened words, if you wish to have any more with me, I care they be shared as people and not as beasts--

Glour'eya

[Guppy]

The courier was, no doubt, accepted and the letters and package delivered. It was with trembling hands that she opened the letter first. Her eyes skimmed over the letters etched upon the page by ink and she could not help but notice that her heart sank, just a little. The letter penned by Gloria's hand was both unexpected and a little disappointing. The decay of their bond was all too clear in the formality of it all. Noura steeled herself against the tide of despondency and, now, anger as she recalled their last meeting. The whispered threat against her life. The grudge she held was a sharp lump of coal within her belly. Suddenly, her hands crumpled the letter, taking care not to upset the shredded, broken nails and the bruised fingers that were her penance for attempting to escape her captors at the stocks. A casual toss carried it across the room to rebound gently against the wall and lay, defeated, on the floor.

More reverent hands gingerly opened the package that accompanied the aloof letter. Her pale, ash-colored eyes roved the contents of the box with an affection that could not be missed. Tentatively did she reach in and stroke a fingertip over the crown of the skull's head before she withdrew it.

Later, those of Solena's household would take note of the bruised, healing young woman clad in skull-and-antler headdress with wings tied tightly to her arms roaming the halls with more confidence than they had seen before. She was a wild creature, loping through the man-made halls as if she were caged. The wildling felt a little more like herself. Later still, she would set aside those things and leave them for later. Time would be devoted to healing and pestering for Solena to read to her by the fire. The wilderness could wait.

The letter was left upon the nightstand, wrinkles carefully ironed against the edge, and folded for safekeeping. No letter was sent in return.

[Elfling]

Solena had said nothing to Noura. Nothing to Tennant. Only to Arkista, and only in the quiet privacy of their bedroom in low voices as to not disturb the rest of the household. Noura had found a shadow in the two year old Kirueli, and the elven child was absolutely fascinated with the wildling. The pretty adornments had only increased that value instead of terrorizing, as any other child might have feared. Solena hadn't minded them either.

Her own letter was flipped open and scanned with quick eyes. She read it again, and the corner of her mouth twitched. But the courier was given an extra due for even braving her house, and when she walked into it, a swift hand flicked the parchment into the fire. It would take more than a poorly written line, still full of accusations, to change the elf's mind about her decision. Gloria simply did not exist.