Wed Sep 11, 2013 3:01 pm
Shonashall or however it is spelt,
My words have gotten much better on a paper. They have gotten no better from my voice. You have askt for names so I shall give them to you, and you will be dredfally displeased with the scaresity. I extend my trust to you because what else is there to do, and I am so tired of being wrong.
Councilor Treadwell, who bides his time most patiently.
Endymion, who wears his emotions upon his sleeve.
Clayton Thayer, who has given me advice I have not heeded.
Perhaps the scorpion Waldumarr, who I have not seen since a trial.
Vice-Governor Agony-eska Kazmerrik.
Solina, the Lady of Knives, who is surely already too pretty.
Proctor Duquesne, as you well know.
Crisken de Lanz, whose dog recently died.
Genny, who is a fine Inquisitor.
Maxwell, who is a mad Inquisitor.
Kasella, from who I have learned an arrow.
Jon Toombs, who knows a very good foundation.
Altias Brom, who thinks I am a lovely girl. Where has he gone wrong.
I cannot vouch that all these names are a garrintea, you may have need to verify.
Also, I implore you to look very closely at the embroidery on this Militia unaform. And when you have found the words I have hidden in the stitches perhaps you will tell the rest of your Militia to look on their sleeves as well. Those who laugh may be worth your trust. Those who scoff may be worth dismissal.
I have done all a stupid girl shoult do. I have hurt people. I would like very much to wake up from this too-pretty place. I have omitted some names. My brother. A whelp. A BOY who is like a feline's talon. If this note finds hands other than yours I should not wish them any more harm.
No longer a demand: if our town might be ours again, allow me to apologise. I ask you for fire, that we may set your dress aflame together. Then we'll sew all the broken parts of ourselves back together. Until then I still ask you for fire, to burn this note like a corpse. Never too carefill.
Yours,
Scarlet Glass
There is to be no confrontation.
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