[should polaris pay her a visit to check up, kiera has a snack of berries and a rolled and tied letter ready for her. it's clearly been ripped out of a book and written on the blank back pages of a table of contents and glossary on wagon wheel construction.]
Luca,
I believe the last letter I wrote to you was addressed "Ser Aurelius," quite some time ago. It feels almost ridiculous to communicate this way now, but I am pleased to note that even as I write, I am not overwhelmed with a sense of dread as I was in person. My hope is that this affliction is over with sooner rather than later. It pains me to leave you alone at this difficult time, so I suppose I will have to bother you sufficiently in this manner in the meantime. I pray that my meandering thoughts are, at present, a comfort rather than an annoyance to you.
Thanks to a generous (and entirely voluntary, I can assure you) donation from a new arrival, I needn't worry about feeding for some time. Even like this, it being physically necessary and all, I found the taste repulsive, which is a great relief. Nonetheless, I am doing my best to avoid anyone still in human form. I have taken to occupying my time with reading. There is an abundance of books in the school library and hardly any visitors at this time. I suspect that even if I had started at one end when we first arrived and read nonstop since, I would have hardly covered but a few shelves. My favorites thus far have been concerning subjects such as crop rotation, selective breeding of fancy pigeons, and farriering and hoof injury and disease, though I'm sure none of these come as surprises.
What did shock me is the existence of fiction romanticizing vampires. In this particular book, the human protagonist lusts after one and dreams of "being turned" by him. Can you imagine? As you might expect, disgust soon won out over my curiosity, and so that novel will forever remain unfinished by me or anyone in the Grove.
In the absence of the gentle giant (or rather, his inability to fit through the doors of the school) I have been looking after the greenhouse plants here. By the grace of some heretofore unknown benevolent god, indoor piping and tap water do not unnerve me as the river does. It is nice to bask in the presence of living things that do not cower from me on instinct. Do tell me how my beloved Pinto Grigio is faring, if you would be so kind. I miss her terribly.
I suppose I ought not push my luck, getting too long-winded about this. You needn't feel obligated to match my length, as I'm aware you're a man of fewer words than the boy in the barracks was. Even so, I must admit, it would comfort me to be privvy to your thoughts of late. Please do not feel guilt on my behalf should you be unable, however.
no subject
Luca,
I believe the last letter I wrote to you was addressed "Ser Aurelius," quite some time ago. It feels almost ridiculous to communicate this way now, but I am pleased to note that even as I write, I am not overwhelmed with a sense of dread as I was in person. My hope is that this affliction is over with sooner rather than later. It pains me to leave you alone at this difficult time, so I suppose I will have to bother you sufficiently in this manner in the meantime. I pray that my meandering thoughts are, at present, a comfort rather than an annoyance to you.
Thanks to a generous (and entirely voluntary, I can assure you) donation from a new arrival, I needn't worry about feeding for some time. Even like this, it being physically necessary and all, I found the taste repulsive, which is a great relief. Nonetheless, I am doing my best to avoid anyone still in human form. I have taken to occupying my time with reading. There is an abundance of books in the school library and hardly any visitors at this time. I suspect that even if I had started at one end when we first arrived and read nonstop since, I would have hardly covered but a few shelves. My favorites thus far have been concerning subjects such as crop rotation, selective breeding of fancy pigeons, and farriering and hoof injury and disease, though I'm sure none of these come as surprises.
What did shock me is the existence of fiction romanticizing vampires. In this particular book, the human protagonist lusts after one and dreams of "being turned" by him. Can you imagine? As you might expect, disgust soon won out over my curiosity, and so that novel will forever remain unfinished by me or anyone in the Grove.
In the absence of the gentle giant (or rather, his inability to fit through the doors of the school) I have been looking after the greenhouse plants here. By the grace of some heretofore unknown benevolent god, indoor piping and tap water do not unnerve me as the river does. It is nice to bask in the presence of living things that do not cower from me on instinct. Do tell me how my beloved Pinto Grigio is faring, if you would be so kind. I miss her terribly.
I suppose I ought not push my luck, getting too long-winded about this. You needn't feel obligated to match my length, as I'm aware you're a man of fewer words than the boy in the barracks was. Even so, I must admit, it would comfort me to be privvy to your thoughts of late. Please do not feel guilt on my behalf should you be unable, however.
Your sister always,
Ser Kiera Canorus