Varanis — 1626 0872 Morningmail
????, Earth Season, Movement Week
Earth Season, Movement Week, Freezeday [[[s02:session-16|Session 16]]]
House Saiciae, the morning after [http:journeyoftheheroes.wikidot.com/varanis:1628-0870-praxianpresumption Praxian Presumption]
It’s late when Varanis opens her eyes. She blinks blearily into the light that fills her room. Yelm has been up for some time.
“Marta? I need a cup of lum… Oh.” She mutters a curse and rubs at her eyes. She sighs and sits up, winces, and lies back down.
Marta comes over and lays a cool, damp cloth across Varanis’ forehead. “You told Mellia no more,” she murmurs.
“I remember.” She takes a slow breath. “I promised.”
“There’s water here for you, when you are ready. It will help.” The servant sets a cup down on a small table next to Varanis.
It takes some time, but eventually she sits up again and takes a sip of the water to rinse the foul taste from her mouth. “Xenofos said the poppy would help me sleep. He didn’t warn me about the dreams. I didn’t want to dream.”
The servant says nothing, though as always, her silence carries a wealth of possible meanings. She moves through the room, laying out breakfast and pouring warm water for washing. After the Vingan washes her face, she sits at the table and looks at the food. She wrinkles her nose and turns away.
“More water, lady.” The cup is set on the table. Dutifully, Varanis drains it. “You are a mess. You are covered in half-healed bruises, your nails are broken, and your armour…” Once Marta breaks her silence, she breaks it thoroughly. “You’ve lost weight and you have none to spare. You have to eat something.”
Dutifully, Varanis plucks a dried fig from a plate of fruits and bites into it.
“I’ll put your hair up, shall I?” Marta asks, going for the carved bone comb beside the jewellery box.
“No. Please, not up. Just a single plait for now?”
With gentle hands, Marta combs out the long red hair. It takes time, as Varanis had not done a proper job of it the night before, but the servant works with patience. Varanis nearly drifts off to sleep again as she works. When it is done, Marta puts her hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “More water. More food. Come on now. And you have letters to read.”
This gets the Vingan’s attention quickly. “Letters?”
A small cloth-wrapped bundle with a parchment letter gets set on the table. A second letter, written on papyrus follows it. Of course, she goes for the bundle first, needing to know what it contains. As she unwraps it, she lets out a gasp. Gossamer light golden silk catches the light. She leaps up, carrying the bundle to the window, so that Yelm’s rays catch the fabric. “I’ve never seen anything so fine,” she says breathlessly. “It’s gorgeous!” She shakes out the length and studies it carefully. “Marta, look at the weave. It’s exquisite. Where did this come from?” The package was deceptively small – there are several yards of fabric here.
“Perhaps it says something useful in the note?” Marta suggests.
Reverently, Varanis folds the cloth once more, placing it on her bed before going for the note. She unfolds it and peers at the text, frowning.1Read roll is fumbled. Player’s son rewrote the letter to reflect the fumble. Oh dear.
Varanis reads out loud, puzzling her way through the letter.
“It’s from Serala! From Serala, to Varanis, I send is coloured with the surety of Yelmalio’s stolen fire. I took it from drolls by air made, in honour of ire, and of you. Drolls? Who wrote this for her? His handwriting is terrible. It makes no sense.”
She continues, “We have had cattle, gory, and feign in confusion, at Dangerford, in villages, and in Snakepipe Hollow, dead places, and in beach I was _ed by the noise, the pheasant error, the _tion of the movement, and after beach, I wandered what message it sent. In Snakepipe Hollow we were a small dart of this king the Luminous Stallion thing… No, that word must be king, so what comes before it? Dart of the king? What does she mean? By Dangerford, I called a vista barge, and one say I won’t the fourth. A barge is too big for the ford. This is nonsense.” She is beginning to sound frustrated.
“As me singers, we have seen moving lack and north, but ook to return to Boldhome past the Tula of the Blue Tea, She must mean Blue Tree… having escaped Crabtown and its droll inhabitants unharmed and eaten. Oh, maybe that’s troll, not droll. Me singers… does Serala sing? I don’t think I’ve heard her do so…. I can’t make sense of this. Marta, please send for Xenofos. Maybe he can help me.”
Marta shakes her head. “You need to read the other letter first, my lady. Lord Xenofos brought it for you last night.”
A mulish expression crosses Varanis’ face. “I’ll finish Serala’s first then. I think of you often, but always. Sometimes I sheep, or fake war, ore (metal)lead, and have no thyme for what is pheasant, only for what is (direction)right. When such fife hops, you tart nonce more. Will you come forth, and ride with me? This cloth would seep your warmth even out of Esrolia, no hatter who hares it, but ifrit became a mess that matched your soul, I could not __. Even if you theft it and were rags and armour, you wouldn’t be at my sight and ever.
Serala, to Varanis. A mess that matched my soul? Theft? She can’t be accusing me of stealing something again… I can’t make sense of this.” Frustrated, she drops the letter on the table and reaches for Xenofos’ instead.
“What has he written? His letter barely makes more sense that Serala’s…”2This uses the same fumbled read score. This version of the letter was sent by Xenofos’ player.
She reads it aloud as well.
“Yahmia told Berra was trying to set up meeting with Kesten * and had left on the evening.
I think she went looking for a fight, b*.
I may be making a fool of myself, but as her second I felt it necessary to *.
Since her apology was just thrown out without formal acceptance they are * as when Berra stormed out of their first encounter.
A distinction Berra probably does not understand. I am setting out late, so it is possible, even likely that I may *.
Nevertheless, I feel * * running roughshod over requirements of custom and etiquette, even when chance of success seems little. Your cousin, Xenofos“
She growls. “What has he done? Marta, I need to speak to my cousin now.”
Continues in [http:journeyoftheheroes.wikidot.com/varanis:1628-0873-muddledmail Muddled Mail]