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Post by Guy de Mereliot (R) on Jun 27, 2011 0:22:39 GMT -5
Dear Geraldine: It’s been a week since we settled down into camp here and I ‘ve finally had time to write to you, though I must tell you that the desire to begin to pen these words to you has been on my heart since we left. We were fast friends, but true ones and I know that in you I can confide all things. I want you to know, sweet Dine, that you can do likewise. I was raised to protect and whatever you put in these letters in guarded in my own heart, even if you should choose to put your own in them. As I said I’ve been busy, but not in the way you might expect. I’ve been assigned to teach strategy and tactics to some of the new officers and the recruits. So far it seems that they’re almost babying me, most likely because of the injury in my leg. I hope that when the time does come they will allow me to fight. All the head knowledge in the world won’t do these soldiers any good if they don’t have experienced people right alongside them. There are no lessons for the next couple days so that’s how I am able to right. Aside from all of that things are well, very well for a warfront. It seems that there are a lot of bonds being made here and it’s good to see that. The weather has been kind to us and we have no sign of trouble. But enough about the war. I want you to know, Dine that had it not been for your delay I would be no doubt crying right now. Instead I am smiling. I’m smiling because I’m picturing your face, your smile specifically. Other people are writing to parents, wives, husbands, lovers, but I feel special because I’m writing to you, a one day acquaintance, a friend, and one awesome kisser. We’re unique you and I and I don’t want either of us to ever forget that. With sincerest affection and friendship: Guy de Mereliot.
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Géraldine Grangier
Citizen
Former Heliotrope adept; Fully marqued
Thou, and no other.
Posts: 2,001
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Post by Géraldine Grangier on Jun 27, 2011 1:10:06 GMT -5
The letter had come and I'd opened it feverishly, reading it, over and over, until I'd found the words to convey... all that I needed to say. I wrote it in neat script, carefully weighing my words, my sentences, fearful of saying aught amiss, but committed to admitting the truth. Dearest Guy,
I will admit that your letter came at the most opportune time, I was just starting to worry about you, and your safety. After you rode to join those marching to battle, I watched the line of horizon, and thought about how little I knew of the life of soldiers. For the first time in my life, I visited the temple of Camael. Perhaps knowing that a candle burns in the temple will give you heart. It burns for those rode into battle, true, but most specifically, it burns for you .
Perhaps it is selfishness that speaks, but I am glad to know that your experience is benefiting the rookies on the field, and that you are being a touch coddled. I expect I would do better, perhaps – but that is my pride speaking, and certainly, you do not need to be babied, as most grown men do not. I am glad to read that everything remains calm, for now – I hope it stays this way, though I suppose it would make the whole point of war moot, would it not? Here, my hand trembled, and I shook a little, taking a deep breath. It was – important. You've written me fair – and I agree. You and I, Guy, are unique. An unlikely pair and an uncanny duet if there ever was any, brought together perhaps by circumstance and fate. I regret nothing. Having you in my life, however briefly, has changed the way I look at the world. I think of you every day.
But Guy, I realized as well that in the short time we spent together, I didn't have much time to tell you about my life – and though I know you have responsibilities aplenty to keep your mind busy, perhaps news of the city will be a welcome distraction. But first, Guy... there is aught I must tell you, about me, and about my life. Please tell yourself that everything that came to pass between us was real, as you read my words. Listen to your heart – you will know it to be true.
As I told you by the fountain, I was born in Marsilikos. My father was a seafaring captain of the D'Angeline fleet. He'd wedded my mother, a humble seamstress whose work granted her occasional attention from peerage. My father has been missing since my ninth natal. My mother died during the Long Winter. I have, however, no claim to pity in this tale. I was raised in the bonds of house Heliotrope, and taught every thing that an adept must know. I made my marque very recently, and am now free in Naamah's service, operating on my own terms.
The reason I am telling you this short story of my life, my dearest friend, is so that you would know about the Service, but more importantly yet, that you would know that the Service had nothing to do with us, or with how easily I took to your person. I took to you for who you are, and what I saw in you then, I would have seen if I'd been a priestess, a soldier, or a healer. You are still a kind, strong, and generous soul. Between the beginning of this letter and now, that has not changed.
Know that I ask nothing of you that you have not already given me. I have your friendship, and the joy of your presence for two days. I have the memory of your kiss, and yet better, of your smile. I have the promise that you will live, and that is all I ever wanted.
Your friend, with all my heart,
[shadow=red,left,300]Geraldine Grangier[/shadow]
P.S. It seems like a triviality, but it comes to my mind that I have no idea how you sleep, or eat. Please tell me that you are in adequate accommodations? If not, I will find a ride to Camlach, and bring you my own pillows, post haste! I'd almost told him that my friend and former patron Decimus Mab Halcyone had ridden as well, that he was a good man, and that I prayed they would be friends. But discretion was the order of the day, and I kept it to myself, at least for now.
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Post by Guy de Mereliot (R) on Jun 27, 2011 13:42:38 GMT -5
Dearest Geraldine
Thank you. Thank you for your prayers, your kind words, for everything. It is a comfort to know there is a heart out there seeking my safety. I too am praying for those in the city, you in particular, that you would know peace while we here ensure it. My mind goes to you each day and I wonder what you are doing and hope that many are seeing your smile.
I’ll have to admit, my dear, when I read your confession I was surprised at first, but surprised only, a fleetly moment that soon gave way to an entirely different set of emotions altogether. I to must confess that I had in the past found there to be something false in the house Helitrope, but now, with what I know I too see my ignorance. I have never been to the Night Cout. Aye, I’ve been with a woman but once. I also want you to know this one thing. I believe you. It is as you said, your words are true here and you have no reason to be false. It is as if I am hearing your own voice speaking to me, telling me that it’s alright. And it is alright. Perhaps you were the very woman I was meant to see to teach me something.I was about to go on but stopped, moving to a different subject. Geraldine, I was and am so very happy to give you what I did and would give you anything else you desire. I want so very much to see you again and to rest in your company. The words on paper are but an imitation of your voice, your soothing words. Yet I am thankful for them, thankful but longing for home and for you once more. It matters not to me what you are (even less, for I’m almost glad of your occupation. It makes things truer) but rather who you are. You are the kindest woman I know and my best friend.
With love, your friend:
Guy de Mereliot.
P.s. I don’t think I’ve smiled as wide as I did on reading that. The food isn’t courtly of course, but it’s good, hearty and filling. I have no complaints. We sleep on the floor most times but I don’t mind. Though I would no turn away your pillows. I placed the letter in an envelope and sealed it. I then reached into my pocket and pulled out her handkerchief and traced the interlocked Gs contemplatively.
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Géraldine Grangier
Citizen
Former Heliotrope adept; Fully marqued
Thou, and no other.
Posts: 2,001
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Post by Géraldine Grangier on Jun 29, 2011 10:49:00 GMT -5
I'd waited for Guy's response with no small amount of trepidation. Would he cast me out of his life, because of my status, so much below his own? I wanted to believe that he was a greater man than that. I wanted to believe that what I'd seen in the fervent, generous, passionate general existed beyond title and status. Perhaps it was my youth and madness that gave me hope, I told myself in darker days. Perhaps... oh, Elua. I tried not to think too much. It was best that way. But the letter came, and with it, a high wave of relief that I didn't even know existed. With it, words that sent my romantic heart aflutter, and hopes quickly quelled by the voice of reason. We'd barely known each other. It was friendship, and support in a time of hardship, I told myself, and nothing more. I'd learned to manage my expectations in the past year, and so I opted to read his words as kindnesses, a dream born of loneliness, perhaps. I wanted to participate in the war effort more and more, and what else could I offer, but to increase the morale of those who were on the frontline? Rationalizations flitted in my mind, contradicting emotional dreams, until I wrote him back, so as not to give in to impulse. Guy's letter made me ask myself more questions than anything else – and I kept on, and on. Dearest Guy,
Knowing that you are out in Camlach, I smile every day with pride, that I would be associated with a brave heart such as yours, if only through quill and parchment, which bring us together in thought. Rest assured that I smile bravely, thinking of you. The candle at the temple still burns.
There is a bird on my windowsill, whistling to me as I write this letter to you. It's a beautiful day in the City of Elua, though the heat is a bit murky. Yet the sky is blue and there is a gentle wind, and the petunias out on my little patio are blooming into bright fuchsias and vibrant blues. I wish you were here. I would make us tea, and we would while the afternoon away, reading perhaps foreign tales we've yet to know of.
Thank you for forgiving me – perhaps I should have told you of Heliotrope earlier? Though if that would have meant that I would have lost the chance to know you, I will admit that the lateness of my admission is harder to regret. Thank you, also, for your honesty, for telling me of your own perceptions of Mont-Nuit. Truth be told, I don't think adepts know what peers and nobles truly think of them, or if they do, I don't think there is any true way to test such perceptions, so long as the contract stands between the parties in play. Please, don't hesitate to ask me any question you may have about Heliotrope, or about any other of the houses. I will answer you to the best of my ability, it is a promise. I have nothing to hide.
The city seems quieter, now that the troops have marched out, and yet I keep on meeting new faces. I met an artist from Ch'n the other day – a girl who knew precious nothing of Elua and his Companions, or of the Night Court. I believe our ways were rather confusing to her, but the word she used to describe those who serve Naamah has remained in my mind since: concubines, she called them. I intend to read more on the subject, if I can make my way to the correct archives. Would you like to know what I find out?
I must leave you now – my presence is needed for the fitting of a gown, something I ordered sometime ago. I will be thinking of you. Write to me! Every moment of silence leaves me fearing for your safety.
With love in return, and loyal friendship,
Geraldine
P.S. I am horrified to read that you sleep on the floor! Have you found anything to soften your couch? It must be awful for your back. I will be riding in all urgency, as soon as I can commandeer a cart, to carry me, a mattress, pillows and a plush comforter for cold nights. Do not let them stop me at the entrance of the camp! I am a woman on a mission! [/i] The letter sealed and sent back, I wandered in the city, pondering if I should make good on my playful word or not. It was banter, a game to play, and yet part of me longed to go to Camlach and see Guy again. To go, or not to go? I walked, and walked, pondering what the most proper course of action was. In the end I went home and sat on my bed, hugging one of my now infamous pillows, and stared into nothingness. I was confused and hesitant. Clearly, I needed to think, and think more.
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Post by Guy de Mereliot (R) on Jul 1, 2011 0:59:35 GMT -5
Dine’s first letter had filled me with joy, and while I wished she would come to see me I knew the better of it and let if be simply a dream. In fact I did dream of it, more than once. The latest time prompted me to wait no longer and send her a reply.
Dearest Geraldine
Thank you again for your prayer and your compassionate support that warms my soul each and every time I receive you letters. I apologize for the delay this time for I debated telling you to come with your pillows. But we both know that would be foolish. Nevertheless I long for the time when I may see your face again.
Last night I dreamt of a visit from you, and it is not the first time. You were here with your sweet smile and we talked of life and … I don’t remember all we talked about other than that we were both happy. I dream of other things too, of war, both the glory and the horror of it. I dream of Mirielle, the happiness and the utter sorrow. So even in sleep I long for you it would seem.
Tomorrow we march off to fight our first battle. We are sending the messenger boy with this now, hoping that it shall be won by the time he delivers the letters and returns. It is interesting to watch the faces of the knew soldiers and compare it to my first time fighting. There are the cocky boys who will turn into blood thristy savages or cowards at the first sight of a stained blade. There are the scared ones who will either stay that way or become heroic. Then there are those such as myself who romanticised battle. They either have discipline and become great or they are driven to madness when death surrounds them. Pray for them, my dear.
But regarding personal matters I think it only right to ask you a question of Heliotrope, submitted with nothing more than pure curiosity. What is it like … to give all of one’s heart to someone for a night, knowing that you may not see them again. To give that love to person after person.... You are a strong woman. But it confuses me, me and my foreign notion of one love, forever. I think though that knowing of Heliotrope may give me hope for the future someday...
As I come to the end of this letter I want you to know again that you are my best friend. I say that with utter gravity and mean no jest. I hope that in my dreams tonight we shall have good conversation and we shall laugh together.
In the true bonds of friendship and love
Guy
P.S. If only such words could be true. You have indeed brought warmth to me, simply with your words. Be comforted in that.
I slipped a small blossom I had found the other day into the note, a pale blue flower with simple petals. I sealed it and closed my eyes, prayer to all the companions for the city and for her.
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Géraldine Grangier
Citizen
Former Heliotrope adept; Fully marqued
Thou, and no other.
Posts: 2,001
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Post by Géraldine Grangier on Jul 1, 2011 13:32:42 GMT -5
The letter came, and I opened it with excitement – it had taken long enough, that I was on the brink of forgoing all good sense and riding to Camlach, with or without pillows, just to see the truth of it. Thinking of Guy's inert body, on the battlefield --- it threw me in depths of franticness that I'd never known before. I read the letter, over and over. It was... difficult to grasp all the things he told me, the contradictions of his words, and the flower... it had dried a little during the trip, but I pinned it to my dress nonetheless, a memento of him. Oh, Guy. My eyes watered as I read through, mulling over passages. Thoughts and images filled my head, driving me a little insane. Through it all, I cried, keening alone in the rich armchair of my salon. I apologize for the delay this time for I debated telling you to come with your pillows... Last night I dreamt of a visit from you, and it is not the first time. [/i]He wanted me to come! Oh, Elua – it was madness indeed, but how elated I was! The madness was sweet, heart-rendering, and I kisses his words, then, delighted in the extreme. I'd had dreams too – of riding and burying myself in his arms, of bringing goods and joy to a place that was bleak with violence and death. Sometimes, too, I had dreams of coming too late, of being shown a lifeless body that was no longer him, and I cried until I woke. I dream of Mirielle, the happiness and the utter sorrow. So even in sleep I long for you it would seem. [/i]I blinked, eyes wide, then, and frowned, unsure where he was going, feeling the ugly tinge of jealousy. Oh, I remembered well Mirielle Bellamont, and our ride to Heliotrope, our walk in the gardens, the children, and how she'd been with them. She was beautiful, so very beautiful, and kind, and – but had Guy not told me that she'd left him for another? Selfishly, I feared for my heart, and read on. Tomorrow we march off to fight our first battle. [/i]I had to stop – I had to stop reading, had to pause, and then the tears came, full of the fear that my hesitation would cost me seeing him again. For all I knew, he might already be dead, for all I knew, this was the last of him. For all I knew, I'd delayed uselessly. I cried and keened, and felt as if something had been torn out of me, until I found the resolve to keep on reading. What is it like … to give all of one’s heart to someone for a night, knowing that you may not see them again... I want you to know again that you are my best friend. [/i] Oh, Elua, if he knew. If only he knew. It was searing, more searing than any parting I'd ever known. I'd always had the delusion that my patrons lived on happily after a night with me, that they kept on moving through life with the happy memory of my body, of my embrace, of shared kisses, laughter and murmured kindnesses. I wanted, suddenly, for him to know that love was more than just a thing of the body – it was a burning thing that ate one's soul, until reason departed, and all that was left was something too large to be known, or named, or found else place. It went beyond friendship, beyond loyalty. It was a wound forever carried in one's heart, and my heart had many scars, but I didn't know if I could ever heal from the one he'd just inflicted on me. It took me a time to find the words, for my hand to stop trembling. The note I sent was short, for fear of saying too much, and more than was warranted. Beloved Guy,
The news that battle has broken at last fill me with dread – I wish I could find words to tell you how sorry I am that I did not give in to my banter, when I should have ridden to Camlach posthaste as I wished, as my heart told me to.
Please, please write to me as soon as you receive this, and tell me that you yet live, that I might make good on my word and coddle you as I now dream, every night.
Forgive the shortness of this missive, I am failing to find happy banter, and fear to be writing too late at all,
You are in my heart, ever and always,
Geraldine
P.S. Your flower is close to my heart, and ever will be, until you can replace it yourself. [/i] Ah, how the words felt weak, with regards to how I felt, really. But he and I had found the words to name what linked us, used them, and so I would persist, even if I felt, as time went by, that the lie was growing with every day that passed.
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