A letter
As a certain harper could attest were he asked, Miniyal is quite good at writing letters. :) So I figure every now and again I'll post up some little tidbit that she sends to J'cor. I really need to finish that write up on Min's ideas for a penal system. (Penal, R'vain. It's not the same as what you are thinking.)
The parchment remained blank. It had been that way for days. One corner was bent and there was a small tear at the bottom from all the attention it had received in the past few days. Numerous times the pen had hovered over it, waiting to spill words that would then be carried off to someone far away.
If only they would write themselves. It was not as if writing a letter were such a hard thing. Not as hard as speaking to someone. However, the words refused to come. They swirled around in the mind with a dizzying whirl. Attempts to settle them down failed time and time again. With or without wine they refused to come.
The first time was always the worst anyway. Something simple was called for. Something short. The doubt was damped down, finally, long enough to pen a short note.
J’cor,
I hope you have gotten settled in. Life here at the weyr continues on as normal really. I suppose that is a good sign. I am sure you are glad to be home now and it must be nice to be back with old friends. I do not wish to keep you overly long in the reading of this as I am sure you’ve things to do. If nothing else there will always be painting waiting to be done.
My mother informs me that the early stages of painting requires more time than once you are used to the hold of the brush and the canvas and the like. I wonder if that is true? She has given me much advice on the colors of paints that work best for this and that and I have committed it to memory. Should you ever wish for the information I shall pass it along. Personally, I do not see where one person’s best is another’s.
I should be sending along my proposal before the end of summer if work continues as it does. I look forward to your input as always.
Miniyal
Once it was written things went much more swiftly. Leaving it laying about was not to be considered. Folded and sealed it was delivered to the messenger whose odd look was ignored. When you could count the number of friends you had on one hand there was no option to let one slip away.
The parchment remained blank. It had been that way for days. One corner was bent and there was a small tear at the bottom from all the attention it had received in the past few days. Numerous times the pen had hovered over it, waiting to spill words that would then be carried off to someone far away.
If only they would write themselves. It was not as if writing a letter were such a hard thing. Not as hard as speaking to someone. However, the words refused to come. They swirled around in the mind with a dizzying whirl. Attempts to settle them down failed time and time again. With or without wine they refused to come.
The first time was always the worst anyway. Something simple was called for. Something short. The doubt was damped down, finally, long enough to pen a short note.
J’cor,
I hope you have gotten settled in. Life here at the weyr continues on as normal really. I suppose that is a good sign. I am sure you are glad to be home now and it must be nice to be back with old friends. I do not wish to keep you overly long in the reading of this as I am sure you’ve things to do. If nothing else there will always be painting waiting to be done.
My mother informs me that the early stages of painting requires more time than once you are used to the hold of the brush and the canvas and the like. I wonder if that is true? She has given me much advice on the colors of paints that work best for this and that and I have committed it to memory. Should you ever wish for the information I shall pass it along. Personally, I do not see where one person’s best is another’s.
I should be sending along my proposal before the end of summer if work continues as it does. I look forward to your input as always.
Miniyal
Once it was written things went much more swiftly. Leaving it laying about was not to be considered. Folded and sealed it was delivered to the messenger whose odd look was ignored. When you could count the number of friends you had on one hand there was no option to let one slip away.