Game story

Nov. 14th, 2011 08:53 am
theworldahead: (Default)
[personal profile] theworldahead

Dear Cecily,

Things are different here without you. I wake up in the night to the clamoring demands for my time and attention and the first thought in my sleep-addled head is, "Surely Cecily will deal with this" before I remember...

It has been eventful recently, to be certain - Autumn Court visited with straw golems, a new contingent of bold (but not, I suspect, bright) Church knights visited and spread various levels of panic. They are not to be trusted, and will likely be the source of further headaches - despite what the woodsmen may believe (as though the woodsmen were ever a good judge of character!).

I have seen more of the character of various townsfolk - Gabriel continues to be an incredible asset, as it seems most everyone in town thinks he is stupid enough to talk openly in front of. More the fools they! Marsh, Miribella's companion, is another to watch out for - very quiet, but full of secrets. I let him sit in on a conversation with Adroa to see where that information gets to.

And oh, my goodness - Jack. A testament to his will that he's managed to live so long, that he is still trying to make this town someplace safe for those of us who wish to live simply. He asked for my aid, and I will gladly give it.

Saturday night, besieged by the Fair and by rumors, I threw up my hands and had a drink. And another. And another. And eventually I was so deep in my cups I could barely see daylight, which was...oh my dear, it was glorious. For a few hours the world stopped and time reversed its endless dance and I was young again. I was carefree again. I prowled the woods with a cadre of companions (none quite do drunk as I, I'd wager, but tolerant nonetheless) and yelled at invisible foes - we laughed and fought and insulted each other and I let my cares fall away for a few beautiful hours. And the town didn't burn in my absence, and Jack and Vincent shepherded us hither and yon, and I let myself remember that letting loose the reins for a while won't necessarily cause the horse to run away. I can feel your disapproval from miles and miles away, my dearest, so I shall say no more of my irresponsibility.

You should have been home nearly two months ago, and no letter I write will find its way to you. For that, I will never forgive myself. But I will keep the home fires burning and I will keep your cross in hand and I will pray, whatever my prayers are worth, to see your gentle face on my doorstep again. I have done nothing to earn that mercy, but perhaps our Creator will give it to me regardless. Quoniam in aeternum misericordia eius.

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