A message sent

A message sent

Postby Sherazade » Sat Mar 31, 2007 7:58 am

An olive branch.... thats what Sam needed to send ... A peace offering.
Yet even with this realization, when she sat down, quill in hand to begin she could not think how to start. A sigh left her lips, feather brushing against her cheek. "just start with his name" she murmured to herself and then dipping the nib into the ink she began to write in a flowing elegant hand.

To Earl Samuel. A. Blackmore.....

Dearest Grandfather, I am writting to you now first of all to apolgise...
I know my abrupt departure without even the shortest of notes, must be causing you worry and hurt. Please believe that was never my intention, i was angry and fustrated, and refuse to believe that behaving like a lady means putting up with those who think a smile is an invitation to put their hand up my skirt.

My second reason is to let you know I am well and currently dwelling in myrken wood. I have even found respectable employment, working for Councilar Treadwell as a toymaker and assistant in his toyshop. Please do not worry for me, I have enough to get by and will try to write regularly.

Your Loving Granddaughter
Samariah Erindyl Vildaris.

Quill was returned to its resting stand andsam leant down breath gently flowing across the parchment to dry the ink. Long moments she sat there just staring at what she had written, and then rolling the parchment she reached for the stub of green wax. Carefully she melted it let a large blob fall and then as it cooled she scratched a leaf in it with a thumbnail . A sad smile curved her lips as she rose and went to find a messanger , her mother had always insisted she seal her letters to her grandfather this way, for despite the fact that he had never sent her a reply when she was little, both her parents were sure he read them and quite often opened them before any other correspondance
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Sleep i forget what that is *laughs*
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The letter arrives

Postby Sherazade » Sun Apr 01, 2007 10:00 am

The master of the gaurd had been standing in the yard, when the messanger rode up. the poor lad looked like he hadnt slept much in at least a week.
he stepped forward, placed a hand against the horses neck and helped the lad dismount.

"message for Earl Blackmore " the lad managed to croak out ....

"i'll see he gets it first lets see to you, i think food drink and rest is in order"
With that said the master of the gaurd whistled for the stable lad and handed over the horses riens to him and then lead the messanger inside.

That had been at least a full candlemark earlier and now he was moving towards his lords study, The earl had likely finished his breakfast by now and was sitting down to attend to the days corrsepondance. He had served here many years now and had long ago learnt the routines of the day. Thumb moved lightly over the green wax seal relief in his gaze he knew who sealed her missives like that... so she had finally sent word, perhaps that would lift the earl's mood . last time Samuel had been like this was when he had learned of his daughters death. head shook and he pushed the thought away, hand rising to knock on the study door.
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Sleep i forget what that is *laughs*
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Postby Treadwell » Sat Apr 07, 2007 11:49 am

A letter had arrived a few days ago. A letter had been read moments after.

The rest of the time has been spent in reflection.

Samariah, it seems, was indeed alive and well. . . though her reason for her leaving are disheartening, to say the least. Of course, Earl Blackmore assumed her reason was entirely truthful.

Truthful, but, yes, disturbing.

Being raised in an older, more gentle society of ages past, Samariah's grandfather had simply refused to acknowledge the existence of such foolishness. Women were, to him, in the past and the present, wonderful ladies all to be courted accordingly and treated with the utmost respect.

And then this.

The last few days had been spent tracking down the men in question who might have had any sort of attachment that was less than pleasant with Samariah. Words were exchanged. Officers were summoned. Rascals were locked away overnight, then set free on bail, pending a proper trial and hearing scheduled a good month or so distant.

And that month would be sufficient time enough for a surprise.

No letter would be sent in return.

No gushing praise for finding a job working for someone who sounds reasonably important would be noted.

No mystified questions of "Where did you learn to make toys?" would be addressed.

Instead, a carriage would be loaded nice and full with a multitude of comforts, clothing, food, and so forth. A trip from home to Myrken would begin!
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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