Dear Torgath,
I somehow doubted that story about your uncle’s knife. It's a drevis, right? And that name is a Sandrider name, isn’t it? Somehow knowing that makes this all more surreal, just like a character in a book, I guess. My pen-pal is Sandrider. Bet they haven’t written that book yet!
So who am I to play? Am I Gabrielle? Yes. Do I want to be? I don’t know. I’m not Dawn either, any more than you are any of the alias you use. Somehow I need to talk to someone both real and imagined and be someone who is both true and yet more pure than reality allows. Like the Furies in the the Norden Sturm tales of Jens Ackermann. I used to talk to my father about literature; since he died I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about it and I find I miss it.
I wish I was on the run from my organization like you said, then I would have less paperwork. Though I guess I should be pleased with bureaucracy, it somehow seems less bad than prison. I guess I’ll cope. As for Kes, well, last time I saw you two with that Southern scum, he said some pretty upsetting stuff to her. If you don’t know, why don’t you ask her? I know, I know... your nose.
Still, I’m sure you’ll find a way if you try. After all, you found a way to get me to talk. You puzzle me, Torgath. I’ve read Loomis’ book and I’m even more confused now. What’s the subtext? You tell me things and they seem both elusive and insightful. Like the train, the racing heart. I think I know what you mean, but are you asking or are you telling me or both?
No, don't tell me. I prefer you remain inscrutable and seemingly innocent. I’ll figure you out in the end, though probably long after you’ve figured me out. Or have you already? Of Furies be damned, I’m a hapless damsel in a Southern harlequin novel. I admit that after a lifetime of Northern censorship, I find those cheap novels scandalously tantalizing. I know they're meaningless and a frivolity, but they make me happy.
In fact, I’m going to send this off before I make too much of a fool of myself and take comfort in reading about some woman even more clueless than me. I’m sure you haven’t read it and I’m not encouraging you to rot your brain, but for the record I’m reading Summer’s Folly.
The heroine's name is Summer. I know, I can barely contain my shame.
So for now just call me Summer, and we’ll see if you can read in between the lines.
Write soon,
Summer.
Heavy Gear Roleplaying Game
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Koreshi Chronicles - Chapter VI: Summer At Last
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