A Pen-Pal

[Samler 1564]

Seth makes sure no one spots him walking into the library with his Sillumir uniform on, he adds his letter to the rest like the ones before him have done, he have written the whole letter with capitalised letters so there would be no hand writting to trace.

"AVERIR, YOU HAVE GREATLY HURTED YOUR NOW FORMER CHILDHOOD LLIR, DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD SHE HAS IT RIGHT NOW? SHE IS ON THE EDGE OF SUICIDE! I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER NOW BECOUSE RIGHT NOW I AM STAYING AWAKE FOR IN CASE SHE GETS A BAD IDEA ABOUT SUICIDE I WILL STOP HER. LAR'IHEIUH (STEADFAST WIND) SHALL BE MY NAME FOR NOW, SINCE I STEADFAST WATCH OVER HER, AROUND HER LIKE THE WIND, I NEED TO BE BOTH. I HOPE THIS WILL SOON COME TO AN END, IT'S PAINFULL TO WATCH HER IN THE STATE SHE IS IN. - LAR'IHEIUH.

Seth goes out to his watch over the before spoken girl, hopeing she will not do what he is fearing.

[misssasy11 2]

Barbu reads the letter from Lar'iheiuh. Angrily he takes the paper and hastily shoves it into his robe pocket. He the scribbles out a quick note.

Lar'iheiuh,

This is no place to criticize. I know not how you know me but I do not need your opinion here. Only the help of my friends.

Averir

Quickly folds up the crumpled piece of paper and shoves it in with the rest of the pile. Silently hoping for this Lar'iheihuh to never respond.

[KannAllyEnd 12]

Ante'vuln ducks into the library. She feels about under the familiar desktop for the stack of letters, hoping it will still be there.

And it is! After all this time, her friends have not abandoned her. With happiness, she picks up a quill, and begins a reply...

My dearest friends,

It has been far too long. Why have we not spoken? It seems ages ago I set pen to paper, reaching into the void for the company of kind strangers. Ages ago when you, my friends replied like stars winking to life in the endless night, and made my lonely world a bit brighter. But it has not been so very long, in reality--what are a few months to those such as us? We have centuries. We have perhaps a thousand years of correspondence. Yet, these small months are too long a time to miss out on. And I have missed you, my fellow wanderers. I have missed you greatly. I have wondered about your lives, and in the faces of each I meet--I wonder if I have seen your smiles.

Now, I must tell you with a full heart that my life has greatly changed. Changed in the most beautiful and rapturous ways. Oh, have you good news as well, Talyiiina, Averir, Maehr, Lar'iheiuh? Please tell me you have been as shined upon by fortune and joy as I have, so that we may weep happy tears together. It is the only thing that could increase my wealth of joy: the knowledge that you, my dearest, my precious lliran, share in my happiness.

Well, how to begin?

Women fascinate me endlessly with their mysterious, musical voices of sweet pitches, the soft place where hips become waist--petal lips, tiny feet, delicate wrists--laughter like bells--they are beautiful. They are graceful and lovely and hypnotizing. All these things hold me captivated, a bewitching distraction. I am enchanted by the feminine.

And yet, he was none of these things. His deep, rumbling voice was harsh and low, his square hands rough and large. His broad shoulders and angular, sturdy body were exactly the opposite of the elusive, sloping shape that has held my attention all these years. And yet, his smile was kind. I found myself looking forward to his laughing, booming and thunderous as it was. I worked twice as hard as I ever have to earn that laugh, as an addict I was. It was so easy to forget who I was in his presence. He listened to me with patience and understanding I have rarely known, and I had not a single idea as to why he seemed so eager to waste his nights keeping my company, telling stories by a dying fire. But I kept returning to our evenings together, kept searching for new ways to achieve his smile, that twinkling look of surprise on his face that filled me with warmth and happiness--a wonderful, sudden happiness which had no reason on earth to exist.

He went farther. He became my support, my shelter. I clung to him, and he allowed me. It was beyond comprehension, how easy it was to fall into the rhythm of trusting this man. Of liking this man. He gave me everything I asked of him--and I asked much-- without asking for a single favor in return. He seemed content to simply listen to all I had to say, to keep me company in the best of ways--and I have never had a friend such as this. I have never had someone I so completely depended on. And yet, the vulnerability was comfortable. It was more than comfortable. It was...natural. It was effortless, and pleasurable, and I sought out my new friend with enthusiasm not at all proportional to the short time we had known each other.

And then, one day, I fell into his arms. He was warm and solid and everything I needed and never even knew I wanted. So I leaned up on tip-toe, kissed my friend, and by some miracle, he kissed me back. It was no kiss I'd ever fantasized about.

It was better.

We are to be wed, soon, but not soon enough. Oh my friends, return my happy news with your own joys, and I do believe I shall never weep again.

With a full heart-

Your friend.

[Suika 111]

--Suika casually strolls through the library, parasol closed at side, looking at books until she spots the curious stack of papers. She reads the first one, the second, and it doesn’t take too much time before she is enveloped in the anonymous society. Looking at the pens that are already available, Suika decides to reach into her left pouch for her own elegant pen. Starting to mark the paper, a small breeze makes the papers around her slightly move, but not enough to blow anything out of place--

Dear society,

It is unfortunate that I too have secrets with no one to tell them to. Ehierir, I am glad about your search for a lover ending. It must be wonderful to find the hands of stability and comfort. I must admit, I used to be in love with myself. I did not notice it and it took years to understand, but I saw everyone else in the world as not suitable for me. The only one who could suit me was myself. I therefore I ended up loving everything about me because no one else could. I was unaware and therefore unscathed by the love, but eventually I realized that no one did love me, not even myself. The bubble of narcissism that eluded me no more had ended and I was left to my own realization that I was alone. I still see it strange that someone else could love me, I often find myself wanting to be without a lover. It has even crossed my mind to simply declare to all those that come up to me, that I am already taken. Either that or stare at them in awkward ways so that they eventually leave.

--Suika’s paper is blown off the table. Picking it up, she realizes that she’s lost her train of thought.—

I’ve been meaning to travel outside of these walls. I don’t have a job and was thinking of going into the trade of Tarot Card dealings for the silly humans or easily deceived wood elves. I could make a few minas by just setting up a stall. Five minas for a fortune and two for a charm. I could dress up as an old hag and carry the alias, “Madam Agatha Curou”. All I would need would be a few charms to carry and a deck of Tarot Cards.

--The letter is not signed but is folded into thirds.

[misssasy11 2]

Barbu walks into the library at the brink of dawn, just as he has done for the past several months. Just as his usual routine he goes and checks the pile of letters not expecting anything new. Suddenly his hand touches a new letter, not yet worn from the constant reading of his troubled friends, Excitedly Barbu pulls out the pile and finds three new letters. With a large smile he begins to study each letter, taking each word to heart.

My Dearest Friends,

I am so glad to be hearing from you all. It has been so terribly long. I was worried that you have left. Or maybe forgotten all about your friends here. Friends, though we have never met I feel we can still be classified as such. I think that us never meeting or knowing that we have met is what pulls us closer together. We do not have to worry about a certain elf spreading secrets.We can just feel as though we are sharing them to a paper. One that will never share the secrets. And that my friends gives me such a strong sense of security that I was devastated at the thought of losing you.

My Dear Friend Ehierir. I am so glad you have found the love you have been searching for. I am glad you have finally found a kiss that can compare to the kiss of a childhood friend. Your life seems to be looking up Dear Ehierir. For that I am very happy for you. Your life is filled with what you love and makes you happy. Which is all you can ask for. My Life Ehierir also seems to be looking up.

My life is at a very nice point right now. But it has nothing to do with the betrothal and my childhood friend fore those two subject are still on troubled seas. But my good news has to do with a friend. A genuine friend who has no ulterior motives and understands me for who I am. When ever I have tried to become friends with a female they always fall in love with me. Love ruins all my friendships. But this lady let us call her the Lonely Fox will never want to fall in love with me. Mostly because she is much older. The Lonely Fox understands me so well. She has great conversations with me and I am always excited to see her. Maybe she is my best friend, though I haven't known her very long it seems like we get each other.

I am not sure if I ever told you this, but my mother and twin brother have been off on a trip for many years. They have finally come back. It was a bitter sweet reuinion. Only because I am still slightly angry at my mother for the betrothal but, I haven't yet talked to her about it. The reunion of my family was still very good for me. I seemed to have missed them more then I care to say. Even my twin brother who I have never seen eye to eye with.

Upon the return of my family I realized that a scholar is not the path for me. I took one look at my brother, who studies nonstop, and realized that isn't who I want to be. I want to be where the action is and never lose my sense of adventure. I have taken up swordsmanship practice. I understand that if being a part of the legion is the only way for adventure then that is the way I shall go.

To the unsigned letter. You have found your dream. Go for it.

Your Dear Averir

[KannAllyEnd 12]

Oh! I want to reply to this so badly! But Ante'vuln's supposed to be travelling! When she gets back, there will be a long and heartfelt response--pinky promise!

[Lynesse {Celia/Jazzy} 398]

Ardene stumbles into the library with a bit of a pout on her face. She scans through the books when she spots a mound of letters tucked into a little corner. Entranced, she decides to read through them. When she is done a faint smile appears on her lips. She finds an empty book on the ground and scans around her area making sure that no one is around the area. She rips out a single piece of paper from the book and begins to write in it.

Karin'ayla lliran,

I must admit. A bright smile flashed across my face after I finished reading this. I feel like I know you all like I know my own family. Let me introduce myself. I'm new here. I came here to pursue knowledge like most do. I found a whole lot more then that.

When I walked down the marble streets alone I saw this man. So naturally I walked up and tried to talk to him. He wasn't necessarily a handsome man. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him though. He spoke elegantally and intelligently. I don't know why but when I saw him I wanted to fall in his arms and stay there forever. He was everything a mali'ahreal should be. I barely know him. I just recently learned his name. Some call him crazy and insane. I see more then that in him. I want to be with him.

I asked a bit more about this man. I found out his wife passed away recently. He'd never love me. I feel like a dog reaching for meat that is out of reach. It'd never ever happen. My father told me to never ever cry. He told me to always be happy. I couldn't help it this time.I want it so badly I just have to try. So I watched him. I observed him. That wasn't much help. I couldn't help but get lost in him more. My heart yearns for him. With the clues I've given it narrows it down to one person...

Writing here makes it feel like a bit of the weight that weighs down on my shoulders has been lifted. Just a bit but enough to feel the difference. I shall return lliran...

-- nameless llir.

Ardene folds up the letter and hastily throws in into the pile. A single strand of silky blond hair that smells just like Celia's perfume is caught. She quickly glances around her to make sure no one is around and walks calmly, this time her smile that she always puts on is just a little less faked.

[[it begins, mith!]]

[KannAllyEnd 12]

Ante'vuln, after her long journeys, finally makes her way back to the treasured sanctum of the library. She sighs at the scent of books: dust, parchment, and ink. For all the time she has lived in Haelun'or, she still feels particular when she is in the library. Wistful, because one can hardly escape the impact of the physical home of so much history, wisdom, and knowledge--and thrilled. A tiny tremor runs up her spine as she find sthe desk where she once slipped a desperate plea to the world for a friend. Her heart picks up, faster by a fraction of a beat. There are new letters--a sanctum of secrets that has grown past anything she'd even begun to hope for. Oh, how precious the City became to her when she realized it housed not emptiness, but a family. She can nearly feel the solace, the comfort and understanding emanating from the pages as she lifts them fondly from beneath the desk.

Still, she doesn't think the thrill comes from the letters, or even the library. Have you ever been under the impression that you were part of something much bigger? That you were simply a piece of a hugely important, beautiful, significant piece of history?

You'd find, I think, that you didn't feel small in comparison. Instead, you'd feel immortal and precious. Perhaps this feeling is what causes the tiny shiver down Ante'vuln's spine as she walks along, letters in hand, beneath the shelves of her people. Perhaps this is why the library is not only a place for learning, or even for comfort--but also, for reverence, to her.

My lliran!

Someday, I dare each of you to take your shoes off and go wading into the ocean.

Uncouth, maybe. I will admit that I'm a hypocrite and I've never done it. But still believe that it should be an experience we all have. Perhaps it seems like a silly whim to you, or a romantic notion with no substance. But what I mean by it is at worst a poetic plea; would you refuse a bit of poetry in your life? I wouldn't. Not for all the world. Poetry is the ultimate metaphor, and it makes relevant and lovely all that is plain or suspicious. I love poetry beyond nearly all things, for each word promises the world is more beautiful than we can see.

At any rate--go. Go wading in the waves. Feel the cool water lap about your ankles and the rough sand beneath your feet. Stand tall as the waves pull at you by the ankles, and feel the heat of the sun on your neck. Do this, because it is delightful--but most of all, do this so you can feel what it's like to touch raw power. Let the ocean rush over you, understand the immense and undeniable power of the surf roiling beyond--and enjoy the beach. Because I guarantee, this is the most perfect example you will ever find of balance. The balance of the ever-reaching, ever crashing waves representing force beyond measure, and the serene beach--seemingly crafted for utter leisure, living in an effortless and harmonious balance as they meet.

My dearest Averir! How I have missed you. I will confess a special affection for you, my llir. You were the first person to ever answer my letters. I do not think I have ever felt so grateful to anyone as I did to you the moment I found your reply. You make my heart swell, dear one, so large it aches in my ribcage. I wish I could thank you properly for being the first voice I heard in the void. I will always be indebted to you, for lifted my heart just a little, when it had fallen so far I forgot there was ever a time it wasn't falling. You taught me to hope again, little adventurer.

You friend the Fox would be a fool if she didn't appreciate your spirit. I'm sure she does, however. I entreat you to go to her, you friend. Perhaps she feels similarly warm towards you. Lliran of the heart, best of friends, are hard to come by, but they are fairly unmistakable in my experience. Perhaps she understands this as well as you do. And if she is truly so lonely...I know from experience, mayilu--your bright, warm heart is better company than most. Like woodland creatures in a burrow, wintertime cold makes friendship all the more precious...and have a feeling she appreciates that, deeply. And that she would recognize that friend, in you.

My new friend! Oh, how clever and fantastical you are. Running off, and forming a secret life, based on whim and fancy--how I wish I could travel at your side! You weave magic out of notions plucked from the air, and it tickles my sense of whimsy so. Fortune tellers, gypsies, weavers of mystical tales, how...lovely it sounds! To travel by a caravan amongst those who can only marvel at your mysteries...take me with you! Suppose you can't, seeing as you've never so much as shaken my hand or looked into my eyes, let alone be able to call me by name. But perhaps, at least, in spirit, you can take me along. I shall call you Vulnir, a name meaning trickster that I bestow with utter affection and delight--it is a most personally special name, you see. Wear it well!

Also, I shall mention how I very much admire your gumption, and even your pride. A very wise woman in Silver once told me that a Mali'aheral's best collection of traits includes her pride. I lack this quality, both in her opinion and my own admission. But truly, I understand the value. I envy the trait in you as much as I do your sense of fantasy! You may find fault with falling in love with yourself. And it is true that this life is at best incomplete before we learn to love beyond ourselves, and that until you can entrust yourself to another, you'll never truly grow. But a healthy love and respect for oneself makes you a worthy partner. It teaches you strength and independence. I ask you, how can you be a lover, or even a friend, if you cannot at times, be the one to carry you both through?

As I mention before--balance is the best sort of beauty. Your heart will find you a match, worry not. And you will be all the more powerful, to contrast with the soft sweetness of new love, for your strength and pride. Then you will have a partner to go traveling with!

My second new friend--how rich am I today in new friends! You are new in a different sense entirely, seeing as you barely been in the City. Shall we simply call you Ignir, fiery one? Your passion and lusty affections burn bright. Nothing to ever apologize for or feel miserable over if you can help it, in my opinion. But such things are tricky as flame itself. Lovely, irresistibly warm and bright, but often your eager fingers get singed.

Lucion Sullas! My goodness, you've chosen an interesting and specific fixation. Luckily, he does not seem to indulge in what I'm sure he'd consider silly emotional drivel, or your letter might make him blush most vibrantly red! A horrid, horrid tragedy he has suffered. His wife was fascinating and beautiful beyond measure. And so kind, so lovely in heart and spirit. Pure blood spilt is always an agony, but Celia Windsworn remains a tragedy in a class of her own. Her horrid and violent death sits like slick poison overtop a crystalline pond. The denizens who once enjoyed her incandescent effervescence now roil in pain as what was once full of life shrivels and blackens to sorrow.

But perhaps you can make our widower smile again. I would only offer the advice to give him space and friendship. Do not ask things of those who suffer. Only give them what they ask for, for that is the kind of friend he needs at the moment. If you can give him your heart without demanding his attention, if you can love with silently as he grieves...I believe he would respect and appreciate you much more, than if you simply threw yourself at his feet.

Off I go, dear ones. May your dreams take you to the beach, tonight.

-Your friend.

[154684321654951 73]

Aerandir Sullas rolls up his sleeves as he pulls on the lever to access the grand gate which guards the college library. A spot he has visited more times than he can remember, but he knows he is there for a reason. Walking at a brisk but casual pace, as if he has all the time in the world Aerandir gracefully descends towards the looming bookcase, old and fragile. As he strides up to it he drags his fingers lightly across the spines of the many tomes, reading them with his finger tips. Finally he stops, recognizing the book not by name but rather by feel. His father's book always had a special binding to them, perhaps it was an intentional addition or rather something that had simply stuck in Aerandir's mind. Taking it to a desk, he adjusts his glasses and sits down. As he pulls the chair in he nudges the table, a loud thump echoes through the empty halls. A small piece of silky smooth paper falls like a feather onto his lap, somehow fastened to the bottom of the desk. Looking over his shoulder Aerandir whips a small blade from his pocket and breaks the seal. After a good read, and a moment to process it he leaves the college. Returning moments later with his own paper. He writes...

To whomever this may concern,

I've just now come across these anonymous messages which have been left in what I believe is secrecy. It is curious, I see that things go on without me when I have my back turned from this place. Though now, upon discovering this coven of poetic writers (something you will find I am not) a plethora of questions distract me from my studies. All anonymous, all very descriptive, who might these writers be. Perhaps the answer lies between the words, perhaps I should look at this like a riddle, a game of mystery and shadow! Now, to the one who happens upon this edifying message I only ask that you allow me to join this confederacy of writers, and answer of course my question on "How to play". So to speak.

Forgive me if this has been brief but there is always time for another, longer note to be hidden away.

I bid you farewell reader,

~The Crime

Satisfied with his reply, and his pseudonym, Aerandir staps the message with hot wax, sealing it shut. The crimson liquid solidifies quickly, with an elegant 'A' embossed into the shiny crimson red.

[Samler 1564]

Seth goes into the library as he does every now and then to check on the letters, he is surpriced by the newest letter, he writes a response and hides it as everyone like him.

"Lar'iheiuh is my name, I have been here before but I was cencord last time, I do not blame him for it yet it's a bit fun from my point of view that he did, well I dedicate this response to "The crime" (a... special name, not sure if I should investigate who you are..) You are welcome to write here, untill now I am the only one that got a message removed (understandable), you write things you would not tell anyone, people won't be able to judge you since you don't write your real name, it looks like you already got that one correct "The crime", and now if we say a Ranger/Justicar/Inquisitor/Sillumir/Legate/Tilruir'sil/Okarir'sil found out who you are there is no punishments, You can see that becouse the one that did remove my former message is still writing, let me see... He wrote something about he was angry about a fixed relationship, I do not blame him, but he did over react a bit. But let us go back to you, this is mostly for lifting burdens, like if you was falled in love with someone, but you know that someone is already falled in love with someone else, you could write this here, and for your sake it should be fake names or no names at all if you wrote about these people, I do hope you will get well with the others, and I wish you a heartly evening from the ever watching guardian. -Lar'iheiuh"

Seth makes sure no one sees him, he smirks to himself then he thinks about using that name again, then he leaves back to the city.

[154684321654951 73]

A few days later Aerandir is tending to a small bonsai in his room, then it dawns on him that someone may have responded to his message. He finishes trimming the plant and heads to the library. Sitting at the desk with a new tome he reaches under and find a new letter. Whipping a letter opener out from his pocket he dices the seal and opens the letter with a single movement of his fingers. After a moment's read he begins to draft a response on the same paper used before.

Dear Reader,

Now it is clear to me who I am writing too, and to what purpose I should be writing. As my last letter mentioned, I am going by the pseudonym The Crime, a riddle really. If what you say is true, and I am to trust a man of whom I have never met, or perhaps have, with sensitive information then I'd like to remain as anonymous and illusive as possible.

What have I to share, let me dig into the depths of my persona to find some secrets to present to you, my enigmatic listener. At this exact moment of writing I have nothing of extreme importance to share, I believe in the coming months certain events will be worth speaking of. Until then, farewell dear reader.

-The Crime

Aerandir stamps the letter with the same crimson 'A' before leaving hastily.

[Yuln 265]

((There's something I would very much like to write here, but RPly I'm not in Haelun'or.))

[Dohvi 622]

Delonna stumbles into the college, desperately looking for somthing to occupy his mind. Eventually, he reaches the desk he once sat at, writing letters to his nameless friends. A slight smiles crosses his face as he finds the letters he had forgotten about years ago, and upon reading them he decides to pick up his pen once more, and contribute his thoughts.

My dear friends,

It has been so very long since i last wrote, and i shamefully admit i had forgotten about you all. Perhaps then, it is luck that i stumbled upon these letters in this dark hour, for i feel more in need of your guidance then ever before.

Many things have changed since i last wrote, all those long years ago. I've fallen into and out of love, only to have it creep up on me once more. I've made new friends, and lost many old ones, but the past is not why im writing this now.

My dear friend, and Kae'leh mayilual recently confessed to betraying me. To find out that the women i love had an affair, it was almost more than i could handle. I am truely lost as to what i should do. She begs me to forgive her, and in my heart i desperately want to, but my head warns me not to and reminds me of the pain she has caused.

I can feel in my heart that i still love her, yet after everything that has happened, and the trust she has betrayed, i don't know if i should. Please guide me my friends, i am in need of your wisdom.

Your friend

~Talyiina

After adding his letter to the rest and stowing the bundle back in its spot, Delonna wanders away, tears still staining his cheeks.

[misssasy11 2]

Dear Friends,

I have one question for you. How can one person cause so much trouble and pain?The person in question is of course my ‘childhood friend’. The childhood friendwho can no longer be considered a friend in my eyes. Every time she shows up inmy life more things go wrong and more pain appears. Like the other day, I wastalking to someone who has had romantic interaction with this childhoodfriend. He wanted to know the truth ofwhat happened between us when they were dating. I explained to him that I wasnothing but supportive of their relationship; mostly for my own personal gain.I told him she had always had a crush on me and tried to kill herself because Iwasn’t jealous of their relationship. Before I could even get to the part abouther kissing me against my own will, he attacked. He repeatedly punched me inthe face. Someone came in and stopped it, the other elf left, and my saviorcalled for a Sillumir. I had forgotten that the attack of a high elf isbreaking the laws, and he would be arrested. I didn’t want him to have thisfate, fore it was my fault and on some level I feel that getting punched waswhat I deserved. I convinced the Sillumir nothing had happened. Angering mysavior.

Later, I found my saviorlooking for my attacker. He was furious at both me and my attacker. This saviorwas a friend. A friend I fear I have lost because I didn’t let the Sillumirbring my attacker to justice. I wish not for my savior to doing anything hastyand attack my attacker getting himself in trouble. If it wasn’t for this childhood friend noneof this would have happened. If she knew how to take no for an answer or wasn’tso sensitive. This attacker could have been my friend if not for her. I wouldn’thave a black eye if not for her. I wouldn’t have many people angry at me becauseof her. I wouldn’t have lied to a Sillumir if not for her.

~Averir

[KannAllyEnd 12]

Ante'vuln frowns at the ever-growing stack as she takes them gently from their place. So the stack will grow too heavy, too thick to pin beneath the desktop anymore. She considers this conundrum with her face scrunched with conflict. Not wanting any of her friends to be unable to locate the messages, she decides to consult them on the matter before moving the letters. For now, another pin to secure them will have to suffice.

She tries to write with small script in her reply, so as not to use up more parchment space.

My ink-bound dear-ones,

I am so glad our confidence as reached new readers, and that old readers have found us once again. The Crime has likened our correspondence to a game, and wonders how to play. And I think you, faithful lliran, for explaining it so neatly to our new "player." You are considerate and welcoming beyond what I could ask of you. I have only one thing to add to this:

If we are playing a game, there is but a single rule to remember with all your heart, then you must remember that this is a place where you belong.

Does anyone know what I mean when I say this? I hope you do. I hope you know that it means you know, feel deep down in your ancient bones (thousands of years, and you're the same as you ever were)--that here is a place where your name doesn't matter as much as you do. That here is a place where you can cry or laugh or rage, and you will be heard. Heard, my friends--every word, digested and held dear as the last embrace of a loved one.

This is where you can come to be loved, without anything asked of you but to let it enfold you. My gift to my friends, and their gift to me: we are bound by the heartstrings.

My new llir, The Crime: no, you do not have to trust me, to trust us. Unless you feel the need to trust someone with your secrets, because that is our unspoken rule. We are here for those who want to trust a stranger. For those who feel the need to be bound by that trust, even if you cannot be bound by experience beyond these sheets of parchment. These letters are a conversation between the lost. Perhaps you won't find your way by the luminous glow of this...metaphorically spiritual companionship, but you won't be alone. And so perhaps, you also won't be so afraid. Lay your secrets down if they grow heavy, and we will not disturb them. Only acknowledge your burden, and reward for your vulnerability with respect and vulnerability in return. Rest here, weary friends. There is peace in good company.

Lar'iheiuh, worry not, you have not been scolded. I don't think we have any right to scold, for it requires judgement. Even the most innocuous judgement is a grave abuse of conduct amongst this group, and so, I say to you that you are welcome here. As you have always been. In this quiet, anonymous place, there is no such thing as expulsion or abandonment. Let the world handle such ugly matters, while we slip between only loveliness and rest, and never so much as graze against conflict or pain-- in a world created pen-stroke by pen-stroke.

Ahh, Talyiina! It has been long! I am so glad you have returned to us, for you have been missed. The best thing about a record of confidence is that no name is ever forgotten. You shall always be significant, here. I must confess that I am endlessly miserable that you have had your heart broken once more. How am I to smile, when one who shares the space in my heart weights it with sadness? My friend, trust is earned. It is given based on merit, and taken away when betrayal destroys what was built. Has your mayilu burned your patience? You must look past your own pain to decide whether you can extend the harbor of your generosity to reward her with another chance. Are you trusting her because she deserves trust? Or because it hurts too much not to.

Choose not because you fear pain, because choices made on this merit earn more of the same: fear, and pain, mistrust, and betrayal.

Averir, my Averir--your indignation is most righteous indeed! You've borne a huge amount of injustice over a friendship, and for that, I'd admire your character. So sweet and loyal are you, not to abandon this woman who has done nothing but burden your heart and mind. Your friends are lucky indeed! Your attacker did not even bear the brunt of your scorn for his misjudgment of wrath upon you! What does it take, I wonder, to be so incorruptible? Once someone has made it into your good graces, it seems they have found a precious place.

For none who befriend Averir shall ever be without a companion. Even those who fly against you find you firmly on their side.

My hat is off to you. You are a better elf than most, dearest Averir. You black eye may hurt (poor, undeserving friend!), but your character has not suffered an inch. You are truly a shining beacon in a world of wishes to snuff the light--and I am loyal to you. I am ever, ever at your aide, and honored to be so.

As for me, I've been thinking. The events in my life have made me pause at moments, and realize how truly strange this life is.

Have you ever imagined the most significant moment of your existence? The moment that would define you evermore and always? Have you seen it in your moment, that sparkling piece of time? I have, and in my imagination, it was crackling and divine--each word and whisper etched with my dreams, now living in the real world and more beautiful than the skies on fire.

In reality, it was a dark, damp room in an abandoned settlement. The night was dark, and we were cold and worn from traveling. There were no trumpets, and the skies were cool, sprinkled with white stars instead of orange flame.

But there in the dank room, in the middle of nowhere with no one but a few circling moths as witnesses--he slipped cheap ring onto my finger and promised his life to me.

I wish I could describe to you the beauty of that moment. I wish I could tell you how that kiss felt, when he tilted me back and sealed his words with the sweetness of his lips. I wish there were words to explain how perfect he was, and how I knew there'd never be anything I wanted more than the elf who stood before me with his eyes full of happy tears. I wish I could, but it's like the catch in my throat. The words are stuck behind an emotion I could never translate, not even for my dearest friends.

You simply would have to have felt it.

Always,

Your friend.

P.S. Does anyone have any ideas about where to next store these letters? I fear our correspondence has grown too large for this hiding spot!