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Dead Letter 5

11 August 2013

 Can you hear me? You put me here. You better hear me. I feel like a demi-god, a hero of Greek Mythology. Why do you keep tasking me with things that end up in catastrophe? Am I the only one you can spare? I’m not yours you know? They think I am, but I’m not. Have you forgotten, or is that why you keep using me for these things? If I manage to get back, which I probably will in the end, we’re having a hell of a fight over this. The entire court can listen to the Prince’s fight with his chylde. Would they throw us out of the Elysium? Oh my god! Can you hear my laughter? That is hilarious! Can you picture it? Keepers barging into your room and grabbing us by the arms, dragging us out then through the gardens and out the gates because we disturbed the peace. Hahahahahahaha… Désopilant! Who the fuck cares?! Get me out of here! Find me and get me out of here! Get me out François. While you’re at it, find him too! Oh my god! I’m crying! I hate red on my cheeks! Stop it! Get me out! Get me the fuck out! This is your fault! You had to send me after the fucking thin blood. You had to have me deal with the stupid tremere. Couldn’t you have given me a little time to relax, rest? You had to have me do it before I went on vacation. Thank you! I am sure your bootlickers are very happy with the result now. Go sire a few so I can get a fucking break! So Arnaud can get a fucking break! Get me the fuck out of here!

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Dead Letter 4

August 11, 2013

 Hello Love,

 Have you missed me yet? I miss you insanely, all of you, but since I am stuck here I might as well try to make the most of it, if there is anything to make of it at all. Let me appraise you of the news darling.

 I found a Brujah, well… sort of. I didn’t exactly find him. I met him. Not the one I hoped to find but yes there is one. Actually I heard there are two more but I met only one. What is it with my streak of brujahs lately? At least I know I’m not the only kindred in this damn place. I am the only one of our blood but not the only vampire. I was told by the former toreador Rachel that this Brujah, named Nathaniel, was much like us and having seen him I do agree. He’s interested in arts, looks refined, cultivated and not rough, which brujah almost always are of course. Rough around the edges, to say the least. Rough around the edges… I think I like rough around the edges, I guess… it seems I do. Think of the others, the Ventrue, the other ventrues, the toreadors, whatever blood they were of, whether I loved them, liked them, or had fun with them they were all rough around the edges. This one isn’t. Francois would cry if he saw such a man sired by a brujah. It’s blasphemy. If I met his sire I’d kick his ass for snatching this one, at first glance that is. We only spoke briefly and then I left. Who knows? Maybe he’ll turn out to be rightfully sired. Pfft… I doubt that. He is with a fae, the seelie that bonded Rachel to herself, Gwyn. Why would anyone want to be with a Fae? They’re dangerous as hell. That high is too much to safely say anyone can resist it. Who’s to say he won’t become a slave to her will, or already hasn’t? And why would anyone bond a demon to themselves? Does she have a death wish? The demon is as unpredictable as herself. I wonder if the girl is young. Maybe she doesn’t know better yet. Maybe she will learn with Rachel.

 Ok… moving on. The Ravnos appeared. She literally popped out of nowhere. Apparently her precious Djinn gave her a way of travelling between planes. We need a djinn darling. Nadya was no use. I thought she’d know things about this place and the people in it but no. she’s as clueless as I am. She said she’s been in Egypt and came to take a look around. Don’t ask me why a vampire would go to Egypt. It’s a fun place actually, obviously not counting the sun that would burn humans even. She stayed for a little while then popped back out of the place. Annoying. Oh we met a dryad. She came out of a tree as we were speaking and stayed briefly then left. She spoke of a black man rising, something underground coming alive or surfacing or something to that effect. She also admitted to being one of the trees that destroyed the castle. So now we know what they meant by rging trees was dryads. I realized it when I saw her. Chérie, I am most definitely in the wrong place and I still consider myself alone. At this point, I see no friends in a seelie couple, a young demoness who used to be a toreador, a ravnos, a changeling or the others I met. I would have felt much safer if he had come through the portal with me. I stopped looking. Sort of. I don’t go around looking for him anymore but I keep an eye out still. I cannot help it. I’m still hoping he’ll appear. Is it odd that I miss him? He’s rough around the edges you know. So maybe it isn’t.

 Have I told you I’m really writing these down now? I’m in the new castle. I mostly use the room above the tavern. There are fabrics and tools so I spend my time sewing if there is nothing better to do. There’s a bed here too. There are a few beds I can sleep in here so I take my pick every day. The sun is dim. The forest is too thick to let it in fully. I’m losing my concept of time again. I sleep nights even, if I’m not sewing or writing that is. We can add these to my massive pile of letters when I get out of here, if I can get out of here. You’re going to have so much fun reading all this. It’ll be a good story for you. I know how you love them. Or I can read them to you while you work so you can stick needles into your fingers and curse at me. Damn! I miss you.

 I wonder how Margot is. I’m losing my trail of thought. I’m rambling yes but I do wonder how she is. I’ve been thinking about her for a while. I called her shortly before I got sucked into that portal but she didn’t answer. She’d call back and find nothing on the other end of the phone. I wonder if my phone rings. Do you think it would ring? Have you called me yet? Of course you have. Has it rung? Maybe it says turned off. No. I haven’t turned it off. Damn universe has turned it off for me. It doesn’t like me having peace of mind. Every time I find some peace something has to go wrong. Every time I feel a gram of happiness something has to go wrong. Can I come home and never leave again? Become a wall flower in Marie’s awfully flowery room? Ugh… disgusting. I’m sorry but I will never get over those flower explosions on the walls. I think they had the wrong toreadors decorate, or maybe it wasn’t a toreador. That would explain it. Because if it were a toreador that did it, Francois would have them burnt, and if he didn’t I would. Then again, he did fall into the flower explosion traps of baroque at some point. Sans the flowers I’m not too unhappy with it myself. What?! Stop me! I told you I was rambling! Gah! I need somebody I can talk to, somebody who will understand. That’s it. I’m going to bed. It’s five o’clock in the morning and I’m going to bed. Kill me! 

 Goodnight. I love you.


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Dead Letter 3

My Darling Girl,

 We used to write on vellum when we required attention to the importance of our words. Your words are always most important to me so I find it befitting that they are scribbled on such fabric.

 We all were wrong to call it home. We were all abandoned. The Lady of Iron… If it is where I presume it is… If only I knew you were there… Why would you wait there? There was nobody to care for you. Did you not know they cared for nobody but themselves? Though… I did not know either. Alas, we all left. It is how we learn, is it not? We now know where to go, whom to go to.

 I wish I had a cure for your heart darling. I have not the mind for it. All I know is what you would know. Should you find a vein of Malkav stronger than yours, you would know what to do. In the meanwhile, keep whispering to her. Some do hear it.

 My home is yours when you can come find me. I am where I should be, at home where I walk halls of mirrors. I will wait until you do and let those of roses know of you so they will recognize my girl when they see her, and I will tell them not to let you in the hall without me so our mirrors remain intact befitting us. You know how cracked mirrors would disturb some of my own.

 I long to hear songs of a Blue Bird and screams of a Raven.

 Until you do…

Forever yours,




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Dead Letter 2

29 July 2013

I can’t find him. I’ve been looking darling. I’ve been looking all over the place for him and Nadya, but I was told Nadya is no more. That perishes the first avenue of survival. Of course it wasn’t the only option, or more important than my own survival skills, which were rusty indeed, but it was the easiest to start with. Finding Nadya would have helped find my bearings and learn what’s what and who’s who here. Not in the cards. 

I found Rachel last night. apparently she took another trip to hell and it appears a fae called her back, or so it seemed from the way she served the girl. She may be a demon but she was once one of ours. I would help her if I could. 

Oh! I saw Bella and Asreal too last night. I don’t understand what goes on here. There are more and more people from Romania. I wonder if there’s some sort of connection. I should look into it once I find my way around the place and ensure my survival. 

I went to the castle yesterday. Yes, the castle. A new one appeared where the old one disappeared. Odd place indeed. There are beds to sleep in so I did take advantage even though I couldn’t find any managers or care takers. Next on list should be clothing. I’ll be looking around for clothing in the castle and if  I can’t find any i’ll look for fabrics to make some. At least I would have something to do other than look around for someone whose presence is doubtful. 

Chéri, I think I am cursed. Do you think someone may have put one on me? I am tired of these weird places I keep ending up in, and the odd circumstances. All the people who take pieces of me… It’s tiring. I think I shall never leave Paris again once I manage to get back there.

I’ll go to bed now. Sleep well darling.



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Miss Mae, 

The parchment words scribbled on, need to find the excuse of the eyes that read such things. 

Paper is sparse in the place we reside, So now hands hold skin of the man who tried to wrong us. 

Poppy, We know such disgust and discourse will find you at this revelation but words make more sense in the opposite of white, so treat his skin as if your own as you caress the words pressed into it. 

My heart and I ran again. We know. We are sorry. After the place we called home crumbled for us, it were no longer safe. They left us Poppy. With Sticks in our Chest and The lady of Iron surrounding. 

… My heart still does not beat… 

Every day I stand by her and touch her throat, her face.. I whisper to her, all the little things that change and the bigger things that stay the same. 

Still she does not wake. 

I must keep her safe Poppy, as much as desire calls for her mothers hands, I must keep her safe. One Day we shall return a whole. One day the Raven shall open her eyes and scream in her glory.

For now though. 

For now we remain alone.. Together.

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“I wyll not despayre o’er it”

Ryhte Worshypfull Archbishop, my humbel duty remembered, hopinge in the Almyghty of thine health and prosperjty whych on my knees I beseech him to long continve granting vpon thine person.

 I thank thee heartily for the tydings thou hast parted in thine laste leter. I beg thy forgiuenes for not wryting the long leter thou deservest, but it was muche to my surpryze,  to heer my presince in court is requested by His Maiesty the King for the matir of negotjation of the marryge of his son the Duke of Cornwal. I doe beleeve thy Grayce to haue giveth counsell in the matir and thank thou moste heartilye and humblye for the gestir. I am prepayring to departe from Nottingham anon. However, I am to part with thee the tydings of a birthe, wych delais me. My goode wyfe hast given byrthe to a gyrl thys nyte. Aye. The Lord hast seen it unworthye of thine humbel freend to haue a son. I wyll not despayre o’er it for my wyfe is young and shall bear me sons anon. The gyrl remynds me of my syster Isabele. I doe hope thou wilst see her one day, befor we com to thee for thine moste precius advyse for her etucaytion. Alas, I shall be leeving Nottingham in twoo days tyme insteed of tumorow.

 Thus I comitt Your Grayce to God’s goode protection.

 Your Grayce’s e’er assuryd freend Lord Christophir Loctin

 From my house in Nottingham this xxviii of January 1543


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“I have gjven birth to a baby gyrl yester nyght”

To my worshipful goode Syster,

I hope with al my heart that thou art in the Lord’s goode grace and art fortunate and healthy. I wryte to part with thee the tydings wch we haue been all expectinge. My lord husbande and I are most pleasede to inform thee that I have gjven birth to a baby gyrl yester nyght. Lord Loctin hast named her Gabrielle after his French mother and Mae after our owne most noble mother. Gabrielle Mae Loctin is a tiny girl withe red haire lyke her father’s syster and browne eies like myne, appearinge to haue an elegante covntenance.

My good syster, I hoped and prayed the Almyghty allowe me to give my husbande an heir. Alas, the Lord hast chosen to grante us a daughter for our firstborne. I am heavy with disappointmente. Lord Loctin will not sayeth anything but I do belieeve he woulde be happier were I to give byrth to a boy. I pray I woulde anon presente him withe the heir he deserveth.

We woulde haue thou visit us anon and enioy the air of the covntry and see thyne dutyfule njece.

This withe my kindeste commende to thou and to thine lord husbande, wishinge thee al fortune, I reste thy lovyng syster and thus commit thee to God’s goode protection.

From my house in Nottingham this xxix of January 1543