primrosella | Quest 246

[Private || Hackable by Friends]

Dear Alexander,

It's been a long time since I've written to you, hasn't it? I really ought to be better about that, I know, even if you never get these letters when I write them. There's no telling if they really do send through, is there? And even if they do, if time isn't moving for you in Daventry and you'll never know I've been gone at all, then the thought of writing a letter like this is a bit silly. But I suppose it's more for my sake than for yours, anyway, so I do hope you'll forgive me for that and bear with me a bit as I go.

Things...aren't going as well as I might've hoped, these days. Awful things keep happening, and every time I think I finally have them managed, some new trouble comes along and piles on top of it, and makes things harder still. People keep leaving and friends keep disappearing--Sam's been gone more than half a year, Blue's coming up on half a year now himself, and it's a few now for Duo, and Penny's been gone a month, and now Edmund and Caspian are gone, too, and Riff's just gone missing, himself--and I remember a time when it was like this before, I do, and it was terrible because so many of my friends all slipped away, but...but I miss them. And I miss you, and Mother and Daddy, and I miss Daventry. I'm going to be twenty years old in just another two months, can you believe it? And after all this time you still aren't even eighteen yet--what an odd thing, for a pair of twins.

I always find myself writing to you when I miss you, when things are starting to feel hopeless and I'm having trouble going on. You endured much worse, though, didn't you? And for much longer, still. You spent a lifetime with no other company than an awful wizard, and yet you're a magician and the savior of a kingdom and--well, and the savior of me, too. I remember I used to be so very jealous of you for that, and worried that I wasn't good enough to compare to you, now that I suddenly had a twin brother I'd never known before.

I suppose that's the other reason why I write to you, you know. Because I know how strong you are, and how you managed all those years when things must have been so hopeless, and no matter how bad things get for me, it's still better than what you managed, didn't you? And you did manage it. And if you can do it, then I can too. We're twins. That's how things are.

I'm studying magic, too. So many people have gone, and so many awful things happen here, that it just seems prudent to be ready for as much as I can. Did it frighten you, learning yours? Some adventures don't leave one the time to be frightened, I know--only the time to find a way out of whatever predicament one faces, or to perish when one can't. Perhaps it's fortunate, in a way, that things don't seem to work that way here. But I think it's unfortunate, too, since there are dangers here that are much worse than anything one might face in Daventry.

It's not just the City that's dangerous. A great many of the people are, too. And it's not just that they're evil, because many of them aren't. They're good...but dangerous. It's unsettling.

It's an unsettling place in general, this City.

I think I started writing you this letter as a means of trying to make myself feel better, and it's rather wandered all over the place in the meantime. I'm sorry for that, and if Gerwain should ever see it, I'm certain he'll complain at how disorganized my thoughts are to read. But it's helped a bit, even so, and that's what matters, I think. If nothing else, it's helped me to feel a bit closer to you, even when you're so very far away and I haven't seen you in so long.

Perhaps I ought to try writing letters to the other people I miss, too. There's about as much chance of them receiving it as there is of you getting this one, but I don't think they'd mind if I took the time out to try. And wouldn't that be a lovely thing to think of, a letter of mine traveling to Sam's Prince's Ton and to Blue's Homeland and Penny's friend's residence, and one off to you in Daventry and another off to Narnia, and to Duo in space and Kurama in his garden and Blair on her Upper East Side and Tristan in his Wall.

...I never had so many friends before I came here, Alexander.

Even if I've lost them now, isn't it still better that I knew them at all?

It is. It's better I knew them at all. Even if it means I've had to miss you and Mother and Daddy for almost two and a half years. I'll always have you waiting for me, when it's finally my turn to go home. But I wouldn't have had any of them if I hadn't ended up separated from you in the first place, and...I'm lucky, aren't I? I've always been the more fortunate of the two of us. Even when I only had Mother and Daddy, that was still so much more than you ever had at all.

And now you have Mother and Daddy and Daventry, and it's my turn to make my way on my own. But I can. I can do that. You're still waiting for me, no matter how much time passes, and oh, won't I have a world of wonderful stories to tell all of you when I finally do come home.

You've managed to make me feel better, you know. Even without a return letter at all. You're very wise that way, Alexander. And I'll see you when I get home, won't I?

I'll look forward to that.

All my love,
Rosella

[/Private]

There's a story in one of my favorite fairy tale collections about a little princess with six brothers, all of them older than she. And of course, as fairy tales usually go, there's a wicked stepmother--and one who is a witch at that--who grows jealous of her husband's love for his children, so she decides to curse them all by turning them into swans. And she manages to do it, almost, except that she happens to miss the little princess with her curse. So the brothers turn into swans and fly away, and the princess is left alone and distraught with all her family taken away from her. But the princess resolves to chase after her brothers, so she runs after them as they fly away, and follows them for days and days.

One night, as she stops to rest, the six swans fly down and transform back into her brothers for a short spell, and tell her the nature of the curse they're under. They're condemned to live as swans for all but a quarter of an hour of each day, and the only way to break the spell is if someone vows to go for six years without ever smiling, or laughing, or speaking a single word, and to sew them each a shirt of thistles in the meantime. And if she slipped even once, then the curse would set, and it could never be broken again.

On my first anniversary here, I remember thinking about that story. I'd seen so many wonderful and terrible things in that one year of life in the City, and the princess in the tale went for six times that, never speaking a word, for the sake of the people she loved. It's really rather extraordinary, isn't it? The things we can do when we know someone is counting on us to succeed.

She managed quite a lot, that little princess, and on less hope than many of us have here.

It's certainly something to think about, isn't it?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I think there's good in all people, yes. It's what makes them different from monsters.

[So speaks the girl who once held Pandora's Box in her hands. That was evil that few things could match.]

I knew a monster once, one so evil that even the slightest bit of goodness was abhorrent to her. People aren't like that.

And can you tell the difference? [ Nigel's voice is very quiet and expectant. ]

Most everyone could, I should think. But...yes, I think I could.

[ Silence on Nigel's end of the line. Just breathing, steady and even. ]

I realize I must have upset you the other day. [ Talking about his mother. Talking about death. ] ...I apologize.

[And now it's her turn to be quiet, a slow sort of silence as guilt creeps up on her. He really is a nice boy, Nigel, and he tries so hard, even though things have been so terrible for him. It's awful of her to feel unsettled by the way he stares, when really he only needs a friend, and perhaps isn't the best at asking for one. It's nothing to worry about. She shouldn't let it bother her, not if it makes him feel bad enough to think he ought to apologize for it.]

It's all right, and please don't apologize. It...can't have been easy for you, all of it, and there's nothing wrong with needing someone to talk to. Really, I'm the one who ought to apologize, that I wasn't... [A pause.] I'll be glad to listen, anytime you need it. And I am sorry, so very much so.

[ That is the sad thing about Nigel (though, in truth, much about Nigel is sad upon reflection). He had been simply an odd boy, up until the moment he first laid eyes on Alex Forbes; but in that moment, he found himself cleft in twain and in that division, enlightened. And poor Rosella, she has been left to deal with both sides of Nigel -- his delusion and his reality. Sometimes it is difficult which is which, but in this moment it is (perhaps) easier to tell. ]

I'm not used to talking to people. [ He exhales, a bit ruefully. ] As if it wasn't obvious.

They do say that practice makes perfect. [As she tries to lighten the tone, to set him at ease however she can.] If you'd like to try, that is.

[And then she stops, thinking of another boy that had unnerved her, once upon a time, and how she'd come to owe him her life, in the end. Appearances can be deceiving, and perhaps she'd judged too quickly then--and learned her lesson for it, after.]

You're...lonely, too, aren't you?

[ It is a reality that Nigel has had seventeen years to come to terms with and in that time he never once truly suffered because of it. No, not until now, with the City and its distance and its interruption. No father -- that was blessing -- but no mother, no Maraclea. And the final insult of it all, no Jack. To exist so long without purpose only to realize it just as it's stolen away.

Not quite loneliness, but something to akin to it. So Nigel doesn't bother correcting Rosella for the sake of semantics. ]

For a very long time there was only her. And it was enough.

And then--

[No, better not to push it. Even if he raised the subject himself, bringing up memories of his mother will likely only make him feel worse. So she avoids it, deviating as smoothly as she can.]

I've never had any family here. It's...always been me, and the friends I've made. Some of them turned out to be as close as family, but...they've all gone, now, too.

[ Ah. It's as if Nigel sees their conversation clearly for what it is, like a series of half-tone dots suddenly resolving themselves into an image of a face. ]

Princess Rosella. Left here, rooted to the cold ground. While all of her brothers and sisters fly away, cursed and unable to let her join them.

...is that right?

[She hopes the sound of her breath catching in her throat isn't as noticeable as it seems, but for a moment she finds herself speechless, her words choked back before they can escape.

She always looks for parallels to her own situations in the fairy tales she reads. But it isn't often at all that people spell them out for her so plainly.]

Six years is a long time to wait with everyone gone.

[ Nigel notices it because he is listening for it. Response of any kind, a response that isn't fear. He wonders if Alex would be impressed. ]

You needn't be alone.

[ Was it an offer? A request? The statement goes as so far as to take Nigel off-guard. It frustrates part of him, the part that would easily drag a scalpel across Rosella's throat. ]

We can be friends, can't we?

[There's a tiny, despairing part of her that knows what an unwinnable game it is--that the more friends she makes, the more people she'll have to lose, and the more likely that she will. But it's still worth it. It's worth it just to have had them, to have known them, for however long it lasted. It's worth it, because as much as she hates to lose people, she can't stand the thought of being completely alone.]

Since...it sounds as though we both need one?

Quest 246

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;