#177: Smile
[based on current rp]
Schatzen,
The birds have invaded, threatening and pecking uselessly at you and they shall continue to live on. A never-ending meaningless struggle of who conquers who. That shall not concern you. Not entirely. Your quest to understand continues unabated. The puppets continuing to block your way. This will end as well, my love.
Our darling daughter has found her roost. You will understand in time that she has found her half. Become whole. As I had with you.
You have found another, my love. As I foretold you would. A siren who hasn't yet heard her own song. You will help her find that melody. Do not fret, schatzen. You deserve to have another half. I would not bind you for all time. You will live far too many moons for that to take effect.
As always hatred is your undoing. Carve it out of your heart and all will mean well.
liebe,
Irene
Mystique reread the letter. Uncertain how many times she had done so now. Heart constricting each time she passed over Irene's name. The scent of lilacs still permeating the floral paper. From Irene's desk all those years ago. The swooping letter I emblazoned into the top. Tracing her crisp, tight script over and over. She dropped the letter onto the table, picking up Irene's photograph. Taken a lifetime ago--almost two lifetimes ago it seemed. So young, so beautiful.
Picking up the letter, she read it again, curling up in the chair. Her link to the love of her life.
Smiling even through the tears that wet her face. Falling like tiny drops of rain onto the paper, smearing the words. Ruining the perfect completeness. She wiped roughly at her face and stood, walking quickly to the desk and tucked the letter lovingly in with the others. Her continuing memento from the woman she would always love.
Brushing her face again, she sank back onto the couch, flipping open her cell phone and dialed a number that had become all too familiar. Her little scientist's drowsy voice answered and she smiled slowly. "Hello, poppet."
Schatzen,
The birds have invaded, threatening and pecking uselessly at you and they shall continue to live on. A never-ending meaningless struggle of who conquers who. That shall not concern you. Not entirely. Your quest to understand continues unabated. The puppets continuing to block your way. This will end as well, my love.
Our darling daughter has found her roost. You will understand in time that she has found her half. Become whole. As I had with you.
You have found another, my love. As I foretold you would. A siren who hasn't yet heard her own song. You will help her find that melody. Do not fret, schatzen. You deserve to have another half. I would not bind you for all time. You will live far too many moons for that to take effect.
As always hatred is your undoing. Carve it out of your heart and all will mean well.
liebe,
Irene
Mystique reread the letter. Uncertain how many times she had done so now. Heart constricting each time she passed over Irene's name. The scent of lilacs still permeating the floral paper. From Irene's desk all those years ago. The swooping letter I emblazoned into the top. Tracing her crisp, tight script over and over. She dropped the letter onto the table, picking up Irene's photograph. Taken a lifetime ago--almost two lifetimes ago it seemed. So young, so beautiful.
Picking up the letter, she read it again, curling up in the chair. Her link to the love of her life.
Smiling even through the tears that wet her face. Falling like tiny drops of rain onto the paper, smearing the words. Ruining the perfect completeness. She wiped roughly at her face and stood, walking quickly to the desk and tucked the letter lovingly in with the others. Her continuing memento from the woman she would always love.
Brushing her face again, she sank back onto the couch, flipping open her cell phone and dialed a number that had become all too familiar. Her little scientist's drowsy voice answered and she smiled slowly. "Hello, poppet."