Letter to Neiran
Turn 3, Month 10: Jarvais writes a friend from Caucus.
This one would be easier. Jarvais knew, even as he was pulling things out of his lettercase and storing them in the rolltop desk, that he shouldn't be writing this letter so soon. He absolutely shouldn't send it. It wouldn't do at all for the Headmaster to hear that one of his students had received a letter of this sort from him before he'd even made his reply to his own.
But Jarvais had no intention of missing this opportunity, entering classes again or not.
He lifted out the hides from the case and stored them in the appropriate drawer of the desk. It no longer occurred to him how strange it was to live constantly in a state of packing or unpacking. He found some comfort in the moving of his personal effects from one container to another.
Jarvais set out a hide, pen and ink on the desk, then sucked in a breath and pulled back the chair. Dinner had settled comfortably, but to be fair he had overeaten a bit, and folding into place at the desk reminded him of the indulgences of squash soup and succulent lamb and most of all, green apple cobbler.
Dear Neiran,
It is my sincere wish that this letter finds you well. I very much enjoyed meeting you at the turn's end, and beg your apology that I have not written before now to convey my gratitude for your guidance and companionship at that event.
Jarvais paused to freshen the pen and tried to hold back his too-ready smile, as though the taciturn healer might know how brightly the letter-writer grinned by looking at the words on the page. He would skip over, he had decided, the evening's last act - in this letter, anyway. He was absolutely without question that Neiran remembered. He'd address a question they never properly discussed, instead.
We never did get to converse upon your recommendation to the Caucus. I wish now that we had: I find myself in the interesting position of seeking my own re-commendation to that same institution, and without benefit of reasons to offer other than those I have already told you.
'Converse upon,' the heir Greenfields thought, would please Neiran's mental ear. The play on 'commendation' came without consideration, and only after reading it back did he think it might be too great a push into the grim demesnes of humor for the journeyman to appreciate.
Jarvais tapped the tip of one finger against the tip of the pen, thoughtlessly blacking himself. A smile came to him as he decided that, in writing, Neiran would just have to cope.
Regardless of the outcome of my efforts at self-promotion, I expect to attend the celebration I have understood to be planned for the coming month. Perhaps I shall see you there. It would be wonderful to catch up again.
I hope you might remember me favorably. Or at all!
Jarvais signed the letter and folded it. Like the one he had written before dinner, this would require ribbon and seal; he would forgo the case. He was still considering whether to send it with the morning's runner, or to wait a day.
A glance at the list of names written on the scrap of hide tucked into the lid of his lettercase made Jarvais shake his head. He could wait no more than a day, that was certain. He would probably not manage that much.
He rose from the desk and with a motion of his hand rolled down the top, concealing the letter-things for now. He could still smell the cinnamon. Ilma's recipe was fragrant enough that deliciousness tended to stick to one's clothes and drift up the stairs, and the nights were so cool now that all the windows would be closed while the Hold slept.
Jarvais stretched, yawned, and smiled. He always slept well with dessert in the air.
Neiran's reply here.
This one would be easier. Jarvais knew, even as he was pulling things out of his lettercase and storing them in the rolltop desk, that he shouldn't be writing this letter so soon. He absolutely shouldn't send it. It wouldn't do at all for the Headmaster to hear that one of his students had received a letter of this sort from him before he'd even made his reply to his own.
But Jarvais had no intention of missing this opportunity, entering classes again or not.
He lifted out the hides from the case and stored them in the appropriate drawer of the desk. It no longer occurred to him how strange it was to live constantly in a state of packing or unpacking. He found some comfort in the moving of his personal effects from one container to another.
Jarvais set out a hide, pen and ink on the desk, then sucked in a breath and pulled back the chair. Dinner had settled comfortably, but to be fair he had overeaten a bit, and folding into place at the desk reminded him of the indulgences of squash soup and succulent lamb and most of all, green apple cobbler.
Dear Neiran,
It is my sincere wish that this letter finds you well. I very much enjoyed meeting you at the turn's end, and beg your apology that I have not written before now to convey my gratitude for your guidance and companionship at that event.
Jarvais paused to freshen the pen and tried to hold back his too-ready smile, as though the taciturn healer might know how brightly the letter-writer grinned by looking at the words on the page. He would skip over, he had decided, the evening's last act - in this letter, anyway. He was absolutely without question that Neiran remembered. He'd address a question they never properly discussed, instead.
We never did get to converse upon your recommendation to the Caucus. I wish now that we had: I find myself in the interesting position of seeking my own re-commendation to that same institution, and without benefit of reasons to offer other than those I have already told you.
'Converse upon,' the heir Greenfields thought, would please Neiran's mental ear. The play on 'commendation' came without consideration, and only after reading it back did he think it might be too great a push into the grim demesnes of humor for the journeyman to appreciate.
Jarvais tapped the tip of one finger against the tip of the pen, thoughtlessly blacking himself. A smile came to him as he decided that, in writing, Neiran would just have to cope.
Regardless of the outcome of my efforts at self-promotion, I expect to attend the celebration I have understood to be planned for the coming month. Perhaps I shall see you there. It would be wonderful to catch up again.
I hope you might remember me favorably. Or at all!
Jarvais signed the letter and folded it. Like the one he had written before dinner, this would require ribbon and seal; he would forgo the case. He was still considering whether to send it with the morning's runner, or to wait a day.
A glance at the list of names written on the scrap of hide tucked into the lid of his lettercase made Jarvais shake his head. He could wait no more than a day, that was certain. He would probably not manage that much.
He rose from the desk and with a motion of his hand rolled down the top, concealing the letter-things for now. He could still smell the cinnamon. Ilma's recipe was fragrant enough that deliciousness tended to stick to one's clothes and drift up the stairs, and the nights were so cool now that all the windows would be closed while the Hold slept.
Jarvais stretched, yawned, and smiled. He always slept well with dessert in the air.
Neiran's reply here.