| I Still Live |
| Summary: | A letter is sent to Jasmina al'Mordran-from likely someone not expected to send a letter |
| Date: | 10-10-1865 |
| Related: | None |
| NPCs: | {$npc} |
| Players: |
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Cool wind from the north howls and batters at the window of the inn he's managed to procure along the ride down to Alsace. A storm of fall-and really nothing ill rides with it. Slouched, Remy d' Korbina stares at blank paper, as quill in ink stained fingers wait. His expression is blank for a moment before he reaches out and begins to scribble a few words. His own script is is tight and neat, a complete contrast to the sloppiness and devil may care attitude the knight usually exhibits.
Your Grace,
I know such a greeting seems entirely formal and less familiar than perhaps I would like-but I also know my face and presence has been remiss in Court. Thus, I find it only fair to greet you by title and not by name as a man should earn such a right. First off, I should apologize- as I only think it right and hopefully can soothe some hurt my absence may have cost. Or at least for the bravado of thinking such a loss of face would cause hurt.
You are one of few who know, I am no simple man. That I have my own failings and shades that I battle with. Usually, I have been good about coming to see you or answering a summons. And now, I have not been. Please trust that I am ever loyal and steadfast. However, there are some things I need to have worked out of me, like a blacksmith beating blemishes from steel. You will hear rumors or tales that likely blacken my reputation. I will not excuse my behavior as some may be true and others just circle like flies on.
Well.
I am sorry if those words bring with them disdain or worse regret and all else. You are a fine woman and I feel confident in saying so. I hope what association you would have with me, would not tarnish or stain your name. If you need distance from that I can continue to provide it. Benide still hangs on me. All of it all of them hang on me like chains to the soul of a miser-and each year or so they grow heavier. I'd like to think if I can run, I will out run them soon enough. Though I fear they will drown me quicker than the drink I try to burn them away with. It's that damned castle that haunts me-and whatever glory I drenched myself in that I cannot wash off.
I am honest-that I miss you. And do hope to see you again. I will be in Alsace for their tournament and thus off from the self imposed exile I have been keeping. I know it is not likely that I will see you there, but if.
If there was a chance to, I would take it.
For my part I am sorry for my absence-and hopefully these words assure you of the truth and that I still live.
Sir Remy d'Korbina
He crumples it once it's dried- and almost tosses it. Though with some hesitance he undoes the damage done. His squire is fetched from the bar-and with coin he's to find a courier. As for the demon himself? It's another cup of wine and a stumble up the stairs.