Ariadne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
demonicbeauty) wrote2018-09-22 10:06 am
demonicbeauty) wrote2018-09-22 10:06 am
Entry tags:
Asgard Inbox
State your business with Ariadne...
***
OOC: This post is an in-character inbox for anyone wishing to contact the character, Araidne, for
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asgardchrysalis. To contact the mun, please PM this journal or send a private plurk to
written in a bold, clear hand and finished with a smiling half-moon seal
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
I hope you do not find it too presumptuous that I have addressed you so. Nor that I have written you this letter, when we have but spoken just the once.
I have, as you might have guessed, remembered our conversation and here it is. Your very first letter. Unless of course someone else has since instead had the honor. In which case I hope you will humor my ramblings nonetheless.
During our first conversation I perhaps neglected to introduce myself properly, which was no fault but my own, and I shall endeavor to correct this oversight post haste. I have given you my name -- John Grey. It is in fact in full John William Bertram Armstrong Grey, son of Gerard, Duke of Pardloe and Earl of Melton. I do have one older brother who has since inherited the title, which is why the proper address is "Lord" John, which you correctly guessed no doubt by the impeccable manners that my schoolmaster beat into me as a young boy.
I was so fascinated by your own career I further neglected to introduce my own. I am, I am sorry to say, a career soldier. I last served as Lieutenant Colonel in His Majesty's Royal Army, though I have since resigned my commission to spend time with family. An action I did not find so difficult at the time, though I am still coming to terms with it even now.
Perhaps you find it the same, difficult to find where you fit in, in a world where your role in life is no longer necessary?
Forgive me, I did not mean to take such a melancholy turn. I hope this letter finds you well. If you should like to send a return letter, you may find my address below. Though of course I will not hold you to it.
My good wishes to you on this day,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Written in plain, utilitarian handwriting. No seal, but left with a sprig of fresh rosemary.
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
I was entirely pleased to discover your letter. You'll forgive me if in my haste to return it, my hand is not quite as formal or as pretty as you may be used to. I was taught to read and write by missionaries who favored function over fashion. For a while, I attempted to learn some calligraphy, but I think I must lack the patience for it. Always in a hurry to go from one thing to the next. A trait that made me the devious child in my family.
It was a large family, at that. I can't imagine what it must have been like, growing up with only one brother. I'd like to learn more about yours sometime, assuming it's not a sore subject. Although I haven't a noble bone in my body, I know that the issue of inheritance can be difficult in some noble families. Forgive me if I speak out of turn. One sees a lot, living in a palace.
I would also love to hear more about the army. I imagine it's very different from the one back home.
For what it's worth, I know how it feels to find yourself superfluous. I'm struggling with it here, although I've started a garden, which occupies some of my time. I'm sure you cannot possibly inhabit a role in life that's no longer necessary. Not as long as you have your family. But if you're ever looking for ways to fill your days here, try building something. The gods--particularly Honir--seem to like it when we do.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
in the same hand, with the same seal
To Ariadne, late of Valeria
My dear --
There is nothing to forgive, neither in the haste of your letter nor in the hand with which it is written. My own merely was derived from many a carefully tutored year, and a great deal of practice besides.
Nor do you speak out of turn. I welcome your curiosity, and your conversation, and I am happy to give you further detail of their character. I was not so lucky as to be joined by any of their number in this city, though I keep telling myself that perhaps that is for the best. Best that it is only myself, if the rest of them might remain safe and happy in their normal lives.
But I digress. I do, in fact, have three brothers, as my mother had been married once before. I do not know my stepbrothers Paul and Edgar all that well, however, as they are sixteen and thirteen years my senior, and we were raised in separate households. My brother Harold -- Hal, is still nine years older than myself, and remarkably similar in countenance, though I am told I am the spitting image of my father. I cannot say for certain, as I am sorry to say that he passed away when I was but a boy of twelve. Hal is doing his duty to carry the family name and has produced with his wife Minnie three sons and one daughter, and I do believe that she will cut him at the knees if they are to have any more. A day spent as Uncle John with Benjamin, Adam, Henry, and Dottie is perhaps even more taxing on the body than a day spent in drills. Was your family much larger than that? I cannot imagine how you might have had the energy.
Not knowing what the army is like where you are from, I cannot speak in any certainty of their differences. But I am happy to answer any questions that you might have on the subject. I fear there is far too much to write in one single letter, though I am willing to speak of it as much as I can.
You had sent with your letter a sprig of what I do believe to be rosemary. Did you grow that yourself in this garden of yours? A garden is quite a useful way to turn your hand. I fear my own skills are somewhat less so, and mostly contained to the gentlemanly sports of hunting, horseback riding, and fencing.
Perhaps there will be something for me yet. For now, it would seem, I write letters. For now, I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
This time with a bundle of raspberry leaves
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
Three brothers. Now that's a much more familiar story. Although I'm sorry to hear you're not close to two of them, although I can understand how the differences in age can be complicating factors. And nieces and nephews too! I have to admit, I'm a little jealous. Although I had many brothers and sisters, I never had a niece or nephew. I think I would have made a good aunt, though. No doubt, I can be just as wide-eyed as a child. You must have some fun adventures with them. And just think of the stories you'll be able to take back home with them, if there's ever a way.
As for the army, I could go on for days and days about knights, their armor, their swords. But I'm not sure I could ever give you a clear picture of what a soldier's life is like. To be honest, things back home are complicated by the fact that we're under siege. Most of our knights are fortifying the walls and preparing for the worst, these days. I'm sure it wasn't always like this. There was nobility and gallantry once. But it's hard not to think of these days as the end times. A final stand against the tyranny of a man who we call "the Red Dragon."
I have no kind words for him.
But to continue answering your last letter, yes, that was rosemary. And with it this one are raspberry leaves. The healers back home used them to treat an upset stomach. And to sweeten the air. All from my garden.
You mentioned hunting and fencing. I think there are many here who could benefit from learning these skills. Horseback riding too, I suppose. Although, I'll admit, I have a terrible fear of horses. Still, we'll all have to learn to ride, won't we? If we want to go places.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
some day he will send her a gift as well, he promises
To Ariadne, Sigyn's Cottage
My dear --
I am sorry. It sounds most dire, the circumstances from which you have been brought to us. Forgive me if my questions ask too much of you -- you need not answer anything you do not wish to share.
I am no knight myself, but instead an artillery officer. Which is to say that I have trained to know it all. Sword fighting, horseback riding, guns, cannons, the lot of it. It is a nasty business, being a soldier, though I am afraid to say that I took to it rather well. Perhaps it was the structure that spoke to me. Perhaps the camaraderie. I cannot say for certain, though I will say that I resigned my commission in the army several years before it was that I arrived here in Asgard.
I am afraid I have not been entirely forthright with you, and I hope you might be able to forgive me for this grievance as well, for I have already become quite fond of our exchange. Though I would be doing us both a disservice if I did not explain to you further the circumstances for which I resigned.
I have a step-son, you see. His name is William, and although he has only been mine for but two years I love him very much. He is eight years old and an absolute terror, but we are working on his manners. Or at least we were. I am afraid it's all very complicated.
He is not my blood, you see, but my wife, Isobel's. But he is not her child either, but her sister's, who died giving birth to him. Unfortunately William's father died that very same day and while he inherited his father's title, he was raised by my wife's family from birth. They were very kind to me as a young man, you understand, nearly adopting me as their son themselves. So when Isobel's father fell sick and died, rather than letting the estate fall into ruin, I married her.
And here we are. That was most certainly more than you ever wished to know about my personal life so I had better put away my pen before I scrap this letter entirely. Thank you for the raspberry leaf, I shall use it well. And I remain as before,
Your ob't servant,John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
I can't think of anything more important than a person's personal life. I'm sorry you didn't tell me sooner. I think I've been asking all of the wrong questions!
You must start by telling me all about your [there's a word that's been written and scratched out, possibly "mate"] wife. Isobel is a beautiful name. And if she's taken the responsibility of raising her sister's child, she must have a very beautiful soul, to go with it. As someone who was adopted at a young age, I admire people who are willing to care so deeply. I admire them very, very much.
Which, I suppose, means I have something new to admire in you as well.
But back to Isobel, you must tell me all about her. What was your courtship like? I've read all kinds of nonsense stories about magic potions and love-at-first-sight, but I'm sure that can't be how it really works. Forgive me for prying, but I know very little about matters of love and marriage, apart from what I saw from my parents in my childhood. I'm always curious about these things.
You must miss her so terribly.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
oh good lord what has he gotten himself into now
To Ariadne, Sigyn's Cottage
My dear --
It would be my pleasure to tell you about Isobel. She is a very sweet woman, and an excellent mother to William. It is a pity that she lost her brother and sister both in such a way as she did.
We have been acquainted for a long time now. I myself but a young man in the army, and Isobel little more than a child. I wish I could share with you the long, romantic courtship you are no doubt looking to hear of, but I suppose you might say that our marriage simply made sense. They needed me. And I was there. An officer could have no better wife than Isobel Dunsany.
And a man could have no better son than young Willie. Though perhaps I am biased in such matters. It is true that I do miss Isobel. Though I must confess that it is my son who occupies my thoughts. He is still yet so young, and he has already lost so much. I am sorry to think that I may now be adding to that list.
But that is quite a lot about myself. You were adopted you say? As a man with an adopted son, I would be quite curious to hear more of your experiences as such.
With much curiosity, I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
A FRIENDSHIP!!!
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
I'm glad to hear that you and Isobel are a good fit. Living in a palace, I've seen more than my fair share of arranged marriages. What I haven't seen are happy ones. For the most part, anyway. I'm sure there must have been an exception or two to the rule, but I can't really remember any.
I should apologize, though. I can only imagine how much you must miss your son. I didn't mean to scratch up any bad feelings. If I did, I'm sorry. But should you ever need to talk about him. Well. Obviously, I'd love to hear more.
As for my adoption, there really isn't much to tell. After I lost my family, I was taken in by my aunt, the royal translator. Her name is Alyssa, although everyone calls her "Lysia." I was ten years old when I came to live with her. I'm not sure she knew what she was getting herself into, taking in such a wild child. But we love each other, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters, isn't it?
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
he needs friends :c perhaps she can tell from his letters but he is lonely......
To Ariadne, Sigyn's Cottage
My dear --
I am certain she did not know what it was she was getting herself into. Speaking from experience, having married into a family with a young child, I definitely did not know what I was getting into myself, even despite the fact that I knew young William very well. There is a difference between being aware of a child and being responsible for them. Though perhaps in Willie's case it was best I stepped in when I did. His aunt and his grandmother spoiled him rotten, and the pair of them together were wrapped so tight around his little finger the process of removing them was nearly as painful to me as it was to the rest of the lot involved. Only our groomsman seemed capable of keeping him in line.
He had been here, in fact, for a little while at least. Perhaps you had met the man? Jamie Fraser was his name. Very tall, very ginger, and very, very Scots.
Do not regret your curiosity or your questions, my dear. If you strike a nerve then I will tell you so. But I think it does me good to speak of such things with another. I have spent too long with only myself for company. And if you are indeed interested to know the answers, more's the better.
For such reasons I will tell you that I miss him terribly. And Hal and Minnie and the children. I miss the life I knew, though I find myself wondering whether how much further it will pass me by, the longer I spend my time here. If Isobel thinks me dead and marries again, I have no claim to his relation. She is at least his aunt by blood. Who am I?
Forgive me for my melancholy. I shall end this letter here and promise you a better letter when next I write. For now, I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Poor Baby
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
Never apologize for your feelings. There's no point in that. It won't make them go away. I think it'll only bury them deeper. And with the exception of extreme happiness, that's rarely a good thing. Our feelings eat away at us, if we let them. They leave us raw and exposed. Like nerve endings in the wind. Of course, giving advice like that is always easier than taking it. Aunt Lysia used to tell me that, before going into her room and brooding about the misfortunes of the world, of which she got more than her fair share.
I'm sorry to say, I don't think I've met anyone named Jamie Fraser. Also, I don't know what a "Scots" is. Is that a species native to your homeland? If so, I'd love to hear more about them. One of my favorite parts of being my aunt's apprentice was, after all, being present when she received visitors from far away lands. Even if the meaning of "far away" changed as our world grew smaller.
I wish I could offer you some advice about missing William. But there is no cure for that. It would be like finding a cute for love.
And who would want to live in a world with something like that?
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
it is indeed a sorry state of affairs
To Ariadne, Sigyn's Cottage
My dear --
Your Aunt Lysia sounds like a very wise woman. Unfortunately, we Men have a tendency to do exactly that, and an army man is worse still. I think we are convinced that we must be strong. For our families, for our countries, and for each other. We have lived through so much, it is difficult to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. But there is a certain vulnerability in love. And it is as much terrifying as it is wonderful. We cannot have things both ways. And that is as difficult as anything to accept.
It's a pity you did not meet him. He is a fine man, and a good friend of mine. Though unfortunately not another species and just another man such as myself. But he is a full head taller than me, so perhaps you may be on to something.
Scots in fact means that he is from a land called Scotland. A country that is in fact not all that far from my own home of England, but one that I do suppose we would consider a bit less civilized. Certainly that is said of the Highlander people, of which Jamie belongs. I do not suppose it is exactly a fair portrayal. They merely have a different way of life, and well. You know how these things go, I expect?
I thank you for your kind words. And for your continued correspondence. Until your next letter, I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
I do understand how it is that one group can be unfairly portrayed. Although I think "understand" is the wrong word to use. I'm familiar with it. I've seen it. Experienced it. Shuddered at it. But I can't explain it.
Does that make sense? I hope so.
And anyway, what does "civilized" even mean? It's all a matter of opinion. What you may think of as civilized, I would call barbaric. And the other way around. Neither of us may be "right." The odds are, anyone who calls another person barbaric is wrong. Or just doesn't understand.
Maybe I'm the one who should apologize now. I just reread that and it seems a little harsh. I hope you'll forgive me.
I should probably quick while I'm behind here.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
oops he can tell he hit a nerve and i forgot my italics
To Ariadne, Sigyn's Cottage
My dear --
No, not at all. It is I that should apologize. I should have not used so flippant a tone on such matters and indeed made it much clearer that I did not share the sentiment of my countrymen. Scots is not a derogatory term, no matter what another Englishman might have you think. It is merely an ethnicity.
You had mentioned that your country was at war. Forgive me for asking such a question, but might the heart of this conflict have anything to do with similar sentiments in your homeland?
I ask because I fought in such a war myself, I am sorry to say. I am equally sorry to say that my country was to some degree the oppressor, and as the larger, stronger, more organized party, we did in fact win in the end. I was myself little more than a boy at the time. My brother Hal did his best to protect me, but it was terrible.
And it is no doubt terribly ironic that one of my closest friends is a Scot himself. But that is a very long story in and of itself and perhaps it is I who should stop myself before I say too much.
For now instead I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
If we keep apologizing to each other, we'll never have time to say anything else.
I suppose that's a hazard of these letters. A person's tone says everything about the that their words don't. Sometimes more. I suppose it's important that we remember that. At any rate, I hold no malice against you. Nor did I mean to imply that I was "snapping."
I don't snap.
As for the war back home, I wish it were as simple as foolish bigotry. At least it would be easier to explain. But it's more a matter of blind ambition. The Red Dragon--that's what we call the warlord trapping us within our walls--is interested in conquest for its own sake, at this point. It doesn't matter who he subdues, as long as he controls them.
Valeria is just the last land he has to conquer.
I can't understand it. I try but it's impossible.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ariadne, Sigyn's Cottage
My dear --
Point taken. You do not snap. I shall remember this for our future correspondences.
Having studied the history of my own world, for better or worse I understand the strategy of which you speak. I would tell you that such an empire fails, in the end. Though I am sure that offers little reassurance at present.
For what it is worth, I am grateful for your presence here, and I suppose that we might leave it at that.
Where was I before we began this unfortunate tangent. I do suppose it was explaining my son's obsession with our groomsman. That is to say that Jamie was not afraid to put him in his place should he act the spoiled child that he was, in early days. He did, if nothing else, teach him how to behave around horses. You cannot demand your way with them, you see. A horse can be easily out-stubborn a child, at that.
You had mentioned you did not know how to ride. Were there not such creatures where you came from, or did you simply not have the opportunity to learn? Perhaps I might offer you my services? As my very first student, you might let me know how much room I have for improvement, by way of instruction.
Think on the matter. There is time. For now, I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
Having known more than one child of royal, or at least noble, blood, I think I can sympathize with your Jamie. There is a certain sense of entitlement that's difficult to stomach. Not that I would speak ill of all nobility. I've known some truly great nobles as well, to say nothing of Princess Amanda who I would follow through any number of hells. She is far from perfect, but her intentions are exactly those that live up to the name of "noble."
And because of that, she's always provided me with a carriage when she needed me to run an errand for her. Which is one reason I've never learned to ride. The other was simply that horses were impractical in Deleo, where I was born. I'm not sure horses like me, to be honest. I've spent some time in the stables, trying to let the horses there get used to my scent. But I still haven't found the courage to actually approach them. Those four extra legs just seem to double the opportunity for them to trample me.
Oddly enough, that's one of my favorite things about being here. Seeing new sorts of creatures, I mean. The horses and now the furry cows. I was a little sad to see them sacrificed as they were, but I certainly can't stand between people and their gods. Although I must admit, it doesn't seem like the sort of worship these gods would want. At least, not the ones I've met. Do you participate in such practices where you come from? I don't, but my gods are quite different.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ariadne, Sigyn's Cottage
My dear --
The four extra legs do seem rather unnecessary, truth be told. But the horses in Asgard are really no different in character than any other I have encountered, in my travels. I do wish I could have brought my own horse with me to this land. And my dog. Besides my family, I miss the pair of them perhaps more than I should.
We do not sacrifice our animals for such purposes, no. That is another practice that I am sorry to say would be thrown into the aforementioned barbaric category with the rest of them. Never mind that our ancient Greek philosophers I'm certain participated in if not precisely the same practices, than at least similar.
It all stems back to the mention of religion, you see. A rather touchy subject, I'm afraid, and one which has errupted no few conflicts, where I am from. All to do with who is right and whose god is the True God, and other such nonsense.
I am by no means a religious man myself, which no doubt would have me shunned from certain circles of England. Perhaps it has something to do with my service in the army. Regardless, I could not help but feel very queer indeed at the sight of such an act myself. I have done my best not to pass too harsh a judgement from what I know is a place of high moral ground. But slaughtering a creature for the sake of one's religion, no matter what the supposed outcome, it does set my teeth on edge. I shudder to think what crime they get it in their heads the gods may want them to commit next.
Speaking of noble entitlement, I should perhaps leave off there before I no doubt tarnish our relations forever. As ever, I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
You need not worry about offending me, when it comes to talk of religion. My faith is complicated. And I think that has blessed me with a higher-than-usual level of tolerance. My mother would never say the same. But I've spent a good part of my life trying to be everything she wasn't.
Should I ask what an "ancient Greek" is? It sounds fascinating, although I have to admit, philosophy has never been my strong suit. But I was educated by missionaries. They were more interested in practical skills than thinking too much.
Which brings us right back to thinking about religion too much, I suppose.
Actually, I am wondering something now, as I think about it. Why did you choose Heimdall? It's all right if that's too personal. But I'm curious.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ariadne, Sigyn's Cottage
My dear --
It is interesting that while we come from such different places, there are some things that remain very much the same. Not wanting to turn into your parents, for instance. Universally constant.
Greece is another country where I am from, and several thousand years ago, the people there were advanced for their time. Well-educated in philosophy, the arts, sciences. There were a great deal of writings from that time that still stand true today. It is as the Greeks themselves say: History is Philosophy teaching by examples.
As for myself and Heimdall -- I suppose you might say it made the most sense to me at the time. I am, as I said, a career soldier. Despite the fact that I have resigned my post, a soldier I will always be. Heimdall leads the defenses of Asgard. I feel as though if anywhere there is a place I belong, it is here.
And what about your own choice of Sigyn? Was it really all that much of a choice at all? It seems to fit, with your recent choice of gardening, but was it a clear decision from the start?
There is no pressure for your answer, of course. I merely remain curious myself. And as ever I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
It's funny that you should conclude with "no pressure" in regards to the question of a god. I felt an enormous amount of pressure to choose, the second I arrived. In retrospect, I think some of that was fear. I was in a strange new place I didn't know, surrounded by strangers. And being told that I had to pick a patron to survive. Maybe that rushed my choice. Sigyn was there at the time. I saw my protection in front of me. Although, I have to admit, given time to reflect, I would still have made the same choice. I'm a gardener, yes. But I think Sigyn and I are kindred in other ways. At any rate, she's very kind. I can speak to her candidly. That's always important.
I knew several gods back home. And I've even worked with a few demi-gods. None of them have ever been quite as approachable as Sigyn.
And I do like the color green.
My only regret, at the moment, is that the cottage is so deserted. It gets too quiet there at night. I value the privacy. But not the silence. It can get a little oppressive, actually.
Well, if that's the worst of my complaints, I guess I'm very lucky here.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
a new letter chain because why not
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
I hope this letter finds you in good health. With the state of the city dissolving into what it was, I think we both might be forgiven for not writing in some time. Now that the dust is settling once more I hope that we might be able to resume once more.
How are you, my dear? How did you fare, during the siege? Please do write me back. I fear I may just try and invite myself to your door if not, and that would hardly be seemly, under the circumstances.
Though it would be good to see you again and know that you are well.
I will keep this brief for now, and indeed remain,
Your ob't servant,
John Grey
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
I'm afraid that I can't really speak to the siege.
I left the village. It was probably not the smartest decision I've ever made, but I felt compelled to do something. As a military man, I'm sure you can understand the impulse.
Before you get concerned, I'll add that I'm perfectly fine. Quite a few of my traveling companions were hurt (for lack of a better term), but I got by with little more than a few bumps and bruises.
And you? Are you all right?
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
Indeed, I do understand the sentiment. I was in the fight myself, and as such, am grateful to hear that you were not injured. Those creatures were not natural, and even the more experienced soldiers among us are still not infallible.
I thank you for your concern. I too find myself having come to no great harm. A few cuts and scrapes, but such can be expected, from a battle.
But my dear, it was a dangerous choice that you made in doing so. Have you any training, against such circumstances? With any weapons? I sincerely hope that it was not just luck that kept you from harm.
Allow me to know if you have need for anything at all.
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
I'm curious about a term you used in your last letter. "Not natural." While I agree that the creatures we fought were horrific and monstrous, I'm curious about where you draw the line between natural and unnatural. I suppose it must be different in every world. So I suppose my question is more about how your world defines such things, rather than you personally. But I'm eager for the education. I find everyone here is terribly different about nearly everything. It can be hard to keep it all straight.
I've trained with a sling my whole life. I suppose that doesn't answer your question. I'm not sure any of us were prepared for the circumstances we faced. But honestly, the sling served me well, especially when I was able to pair it with those--
I'm sorry, I've forgotten the word people were using for them.
They were shaped like apples, but if you turned a switch on top, they would explode.
Well, at any rate, they had some wonderful heft to them.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
Reply to this Th
no subject
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
I suppose that it is different in every world. But in this instance I did mean that if you stab another person with a blade, they do not usually carry on as if you have merely inconvenienced them. I do not know the entire explanation of those creatures, but I have fought in enough battles to have found the experience highly disturbing. I myself am not nearly as resilient, much to my chagrin, and I found the experience most unnatural.
Ah, perhaps you are speaking of the grenades? They were a bit different in my experience -- though I am finding most things are. But the concept is the same. You light the fuse and then toss them at your enemy and hope for the best.
I myself was an artillery man. Have I told you thus before? About the canons?
If you are interested, I shall, though I will not bore you with the details otherwise. For now, I am grateful that you were not out there unprotected, and indeed I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
Grenades! Yes! That was the word. My aunt would be mortified to see me forgetting new words so quickly, but under the circumstances, I didn't really have time to examine the etymology of the phrase, much less remember it, I guess. I won't forget again.
We have something similar back home, although I've never really meddled with it. In general, I find explosions to be counterproductive, more than anything else. This battle was definitely an exception to the rule, however.
I don't think you've mentioned cannons before. I would love to hear more. As you know, I have no experience in sailing. Everything I know about ships and the sea just come from stories and songs. I find personal accounts much more interesting.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
I cannot speak for your aunt, but I for one will not fault you for misplacing the term, given the circumstances.
Though if you do not like explosions, you will probably not find canonfire particularly satisfying either. That is to say that canons are essentially controlled explosion. I will not bore you with the exact details but the use of it involves firing a ball out of the gun using black powder, which does explode when it is lit with a slow match, and fires the ball off out of the gun with a tremendous sound. There is a lot of other less exciting maintenance involved of course, such as cleaning the gun between each firing to be certain the whole thing doesn't explode at the wrong moment. Speaking from experience, you do NOT want your gun exploding on you.
As for sailing, I'm afraid I was in the army. Though I did serve abroad and thus needed to take a ship in order to get there. No sea combat, but there was a lot of sailing involved. Several months of it even, when I went to fight in Canada. Though I can tell you from experience that sailing such a distance as that is not an experience I should like to repeat any time soon.
I am no doubt making a muddle of this, and thus shall stop now before I make things worse. I am, as always,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
It's funny, but I've always associated cannons with ships. I suppose because of the tales we used to hear as children about pirates. By the time I came of age, of course, pirates were just a distant memory and the seas were controlled, instead, by the Red Dragon's navy. They didn't make much use of their cannon, I suppose because no one tried to sail past them in a boat large enough for them to hit.
Some Human armies tried traveling with cannons once or twice, but being that most of the Red Dragon's soldiers were Elves, such weapons hardly stood much of a chance.
Time is a precious commodity in battle. And a luxury you can scarcely afford when Elves are raining down fire on your location.
But enough of my confusion.
Canada? And why wouldn't you want to sail again? It sounds like it would be beautiful, nothing around you but the sea.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
I can certainly understand your point. However, with no magic where I come from, a cannon is perhaps the most powerful weapon that a man can wield, short of fire itself. It certainly is a much more direct way to fight a battle, however you do need a team of men in order to operate a gun efficiently. Loading and firing them, and pushing them across the terrain.
And yes, Canada. It is a colony of the British Empire, but it is unfortunately separated from England by a vast ocean.
It is beautiful, the ocean. It's the sailing that is less than ideal. Trapped on a ship with the same people for months on end, at the mercy of the elements. One storm could set you so far off course it might add weeks to your journey, or it could be the difference between life and death. And then there is the food, and the Smells.
Perhaps you are better off never having experienced such a thing, given the choice... My friend Mr Fraser who I told you something of before for example, was frightfully sick the moment he set foot on board a ship. With no fresh water and no air under deck -- I'm certain you can imagine how that might progress.
I will spare you any further detail. For now I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
Yes, I suppose I can see how being storm-tossed might not be so enjoyable. Still, I'm glad to know that it's also beautiful. The ocean, I mean. You have to find a little bit of beauty in everything. Or, at least, that's what I believe. My aunt always called me a 'cock-eyed optimist.' I suppose I do nothing to disillusion her of that notion when I say silly things like that.
I do wonder how you'd feel about the Elf form of transportation. As someone unfamiliar with magic, I mean. The Elves are capable of more or less snapping their fingers and going from one place to the next, in the blink of an eye. I've been brought along once or twice. It's very disconcerting, but much faster.
Now that I think about it, there are a lot of magical facts of life that I take for granted that you might find strange, seeing as you don't have it. I hope I don't offend.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
There is no offense taken whatsoever. I have found my eyes opened to a great many things, over the past few months. Magic being only one area among many. I would be interested in hearing more of these experiences of yours. Both in regards to this elven transportation and in the broader sense.
Can the people of your world do magic of their own? Those who are not Elves, that is. Or is it a thing that is an innate ability that only that group of people possess? I must confess, it is a fascinating concept. Especially given the idea that magic in my land was limited to mere superstition or slight of hand.
You need not answer my questions if they are too direct. Please know they only come from a place of curiosity.
As always, I remain,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
I would hardly call your questions 'too direct.' Most of the things you're asking are just the facts of life, things I suppose I simply took for granted. Common knowledge.
To start, I suppose I should explain that there are three races that dominate the realm back home. The first are Humans, and I suspect you're fairly familiar with what a Human is, by this point in your life. Humans are the great inventors of the realm. They're scientists and philosophers and politicians. Unfortunately, the history of the Human race is a difficult one. Riddled with mistreatment and prejudice, from the other races. Especially the Elves.
As for those Elves... Long-lived and powerful, they are, perhaps, our great scholars, mages, and creators. There are more Elves than any other race, you see. And they are all born with magic; telekinesis, telepathy, certain innate spells, such as creating fire or a shield. They claim they were the first race, although there's no evidence of it. But don't get me wrong. They're not all the snobs I seem to be making them out to be. They're just proud.
So too are the Darucs. Darucs are a lot like Humans. In fact, they're virtually indistinguishable--culture aside--until the age of fifteen. When they turn fifteen, they go through a ceremony known as 'the Ritual' in which they're gifted with one particular kind of magic. Not as powerful as Elves and not as inventive as Humans, the Darucs are warriors, artisans, and sailors.
These three make up the bulk of the population. There are others, of course. But I think I've already rambled on long enough for one letter.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
I daresay that I am somewhat familiar with humanity at this point yes. Though I suppose I might understand how they might be mistreated in your world, compared with these other races you mention, having no magic or any similar ability to compare.
Pride is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands. Especially when those hands are more numerous than the rest. Though I can at the same time understand why that pride might have come to be, in those circumstances.
You are quite alright, and I assure you there is no rambling here. It is all quite interesting to hear about, especially when there is really only one race to speak of where I am from.
Yours in curiosity,
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
I honestly can't imagine it. Living in a world with only a single race. I suppose it's simply a matter of what I'm used to. But--forgive me for saying this--I wonder how a world like that can survive. It would be like a body missing two-thirds of itself. Unable to walk or talk, just there to breathe.
That analogy is a little strained.
But that's how it seems to me. Our realm couldn't function, without the things that each race brings to it.
I suppose my world is equally alien to you, though. So there we are.
At any rate, those are only the main three races. There are others. Many others, actually.
I guess variety does add spice to the sauce.
Actually, I'm not sure that's how the saying goes.
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
no subject
To Ms. Ariadne, of Signe's Cottage
My dear --
I suppose you might say that what you do not know cannot hurt you, and such is the circumstance in our case. For better or worse we do not share our planet with any other creature of similar intelligence, though I daresay I have met several dogs who were quite canny, for their breed. The benefit of which I suppose is that it has left humanity with the space to wonder. Mythology and other similar such folk tale. Stories of gods and goddesses not unlike those we find ourselves under the power of now. It all seems rather fanciful until you find yourself come face to face with the prospect.
But that is neither here nor there. I suppose we have gotten ourselves rather off the subject, and I must admit I have forgotten where we were now to start, without looking back for reference. And where is the fun in that?
I suppose I might ask then whether you find yourself more or less at home amongst the variety of peoples that you find here, in this city. You have spoken of this garden you've begun. Could you see yourself settling here, should the months continue to pass in such a manner? Or do you find yourself missing that place from whence you came?
You have told me not to apologize for my questions and thus I will not. But you need not answer if their nature discomforts you.
Your ob't. servant,
John William Grey, Esq.
Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
no subject
To Lord John Grey, Heimdallhaus, Block One, House Three
Good Sir--
You pose an interesting question. Interesting because I find myself wondering about it, from time to time.
Could I live here?
I'm afraid the answer isn't a simple yes or no.
I like it here. A lot. Most of the people I've met are friendly. And surprisingly patient. There's a sort of unspoken understanding that we're all different. That we all need to learn each other's ways. I like that. I like it very much. And, despite what happened with the wights, it's very peaceful here. Compared to what I've left behind. No one is hungry or in poverty. We have our needs very well met.
Yes, I like it here very much.
But staying here would mean abandoning my obligations back home, I think. I'm not sure I could bring myself to do it. It would feel like leaving them to die.
That sounds a little dramatic, but things are bad back home. I have to ask myself if I could live with a life of ease and comfort, knowing that.
What about you? Could you see yourself staying here?
Sincerely,
Ariadne
Sigyn's Cottage
backdated to when Peter was super sad and she was visiting!!! | Benatar
"How are you?" They're all struggling. Now the only thing she can think to do is lend some of her strength to whoever needs it. That is what she is best at these days.
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Some might not be.
She hadn't completely made up her mind how much of herself she wanted to share. Even the fact that she was considering it was extraordinary. But today wasn't the day for decisions.
Just as she was about to leave, she heard the question and turned around. The second her eyes landed on the other woman, she knew three things right away. First, she wasn't an Alastrian. That was absolutely clear. Second, this was her territory and Ariadne was a guest in it. Third. Well. Obviously. "You must be Gamora."
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Her tone is flat, but there is just enough wry amusement underneath to be picked up on. "You've listened to one of Peter's stories." He does have a way of painting a picture with words. It's another thing she loves about him.
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She was immediately keen on making Gamora liked her. Partly because she mattered so much to Peter. And partly because...well. It wasn't fair to judge on appearances, of course. But she was green. Maybe they weren't the same, but that didn't mean they couldn't have a kinship. Be cousins, of sorts. Like the Humans and Darucs back home.
It was nice to think of, anyway.
She stood up again, pulling the hood off of her hair. "Although none of his stories quite compare to the ones he tells about you. His eyes sort of...light up."
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Gamora dips her head respectfully once the shock wears off, smile creeping out despite that stoic demeanor. "He is a starry-eyed fool." She says it with clear affection. She briefly hesitates before asking, "Would you like to stay a little longer? I can make you something to drink." She can play host when the situation calls for it. She thinks it does with Peter needing time to recover.
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That may or may not have been, but Ariadne was hardly thinking of Peter, when Gamora said it. It was like a blow to her system. Not painful, just shocking. She knew Gamora would look like an Alastrian. Peter had made that very clear. But she hadn't expected her to sound so very much like her mother.
But Gamora had the same mastery of affectionate skepticism that Rotspine had, particularly when speaking about her own mate, Ariadne's father.
It was a powerful pull, even more so than appearances.
Ariadne had to know this woman.
"I would love a drink," she replied. "Thank you."
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"We don't have anything stronger than tea." She warns if only because she used to live with people who hate that very much.
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Which was...not the best way to start a conversation with a near stranger.
Somehow, it was Peter's fault. Ariadne was so comfortable with him, she felt like she already knew Gamora.
Both her mother and Aunt Alyssa would have been appalled. Fortunately, they weren't here.
She looked around the kitchen, to avoid embarrassment. Actually, kitchens were something a bit exotic to her. Alastrians didn't use them, after all. And Ariadne had been somewhat banned from the palace kitchen in Valeria. One little, tiny fire...
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"I've never heard of that." That's the only pause she gives before going to retrieve the leaves they did manage around the city. She sets to work on making the tea: grabbing a saucepan, filling it with cold water, and setting it to heat up on the stove.
"What are Elves like where you come from?" Her only real reference is rumors and of course the Collector.
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She really was a menace.
For now, she'd let the whole 'maiden tea' fiasco go. She was grateful for Gamora's question.
"Elves?" She smiled faintly. "Well, I don't like to define an entire race by their reputation...but most people think they're a little superior. They say they're the oldest race in the realm, which makes them entitled to rule it." Or what was left of it. But that was a time long before she was born. "The ones I know are very nice. Although they don't know about..." She made a vague gesture to herself. Her face. Her arms. Her hair. "...what I am."
comes back to this a million years later.... LIFE HAPPENED.
"What exactly are you?" Only she can make a question sound both respectful and sharp at the same time; as if she is ready to challenge anyone who takes issue with it.
No worries
...which it clearly did.
She raised her shoulders slightly, indicating no offense. "Alastrian. One of the last demonoid races in my realm, I think." And possibly one of the last Alastrians, but she didn't like to dwell on that one too much. They were survivors. Hard to kill. But the Red Dragon seemed to have a rather personal vendetta against them.
Perhaps because they weren't so easily bent to his will, like most of the other demonoids, who believed in the promise of a better day, once the Elves were toppled from their haughty perch.
"I suppose the name doesn't mean much to you. We're forest dwellers. With minds meant for mathematics, music, and language. My aunt is actually the royal translator in the court of Princess Amanda. But she was born with the ability to shapeshift, to change her color at will. She passes for Human."
I am just eternally slow so ty
"So this..." She holds up her arm to illustrate the point plainly. Their skin color, different or not, would be an issue where she came from. "... is the problem?" She drops her hand, tsking in disgust. "Direct them to me if they come."
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She shook her head. "Anyway, there isn't anyone from my world here. And I can...blend. If I need to. There's enough we have to fight without fighting each other."
Was that excusing prejudice? Maybe. But it was the only path she'd ever really known. Even if the gods of Asgard were manipulating her abilities in ways she didn't especially appreciate.