Letter to Bianca
Written on plain but fine paper in a flowery script. The wax bears the seal of the House of Flora:
Lady Bianca D'Alimonte
Dumaine House
Verazzo, Aventia
Dearest Bianca,
I know it's been ages since I last wrote but I know you'll forgive me when I tell you what I've been up to. Besides, when was the last time you sent a letter to me? What's been keeping you busy? Do tell me it's finally Giancarlo.
So, back to me. Not much has changed at the Oisen. Still building bridges. Still manning the ramparts and looking forward to the day that becomes a literal, rather than metaphorical, activity.
Theatre season has started up again and I've managed to fix it so my leave allows for as many shows as possible. Most notable this season has been Moonlight and Misgivings which I've seen twice. The troupe has made a few changes since the première which I will leave to other critics to pass judgement upon. Let's just say I'm a bit too close to the subject matter to be objective.
Speaking of theatre, I saw a 'moving picture show' in Begma. That's a shadow not too far from here where they have the most wonderful contraptions. I attended a wedding. It was very nice. The reception was quite lively, as well, even though I never got to taste the cake. By the time I got there it seems the maid of honor had been thrown into it. Rumors of my involvement in the destruction of the cake are scurrilous. And, I'm afraid, true.
Why, you may ask, did I throw a well-dressed Lady into an even more well-dressed cake? The answer is simple. She threatened my date. With a candelabra. And several bridesmaids. What else was I to do? I ask you.
Speaking of my date, he has recently become significantly more than that. The proper parents have been spoken to and the Forms have been Obeyed and I am now being officially Courted! I adore his sister and his mother, by the way. I don't have to tell you that this bodes ill for the poor man's future.
And, no, I shan't tell you his name. You'll just compose some horrid couplet with it.
More details as they fall into place.
Send my regards to your father and (one hopes) to Giancarlo.
Love,
Rosamunde
Lady Bianca D'Alimonte
Dumaine House
Verazzo, Aventia
Dearest Bianca,
I know it's been ages since I last wrote but I know you'll forgive me when I tell you what I've been up to. Besides, when was the last time you sent a letter to me? What's been keeping you busy? Do tell me it's finally Giancarlo.
So, back to me. Not much has changed at the Oisen. Still building bridges. Still manning the ramparts and looking forward to the day that becomes a literal, rather than metaphorical, activity.
Theatre season has started up again and I've managed to fix it so my leave allows for as many shows as possible. Most notable this season has been Moonlight and Misgivings which I've seen twice. The troupe has made a few changes since the première which I will leave to other critics to pass judgement upon. Let's just say I'm a bit too close to the subject matter to be objective.
Speaking of theatre, I saw a 'moving picture show' in Begma. That's a shadow not too far from here where they have the most wonderful contraptions. I attended a wedding. It was very nice. The reception was quite lively, as well, even though I never got to taste the cake. By the time I got there it seems the maid of honor had been thrown into it. Rumors of my involvement in the destruction of the cake are scurrilous. And, I'm afraid, true.
Why, you may ask, did I throw a well-dressed Lady into an even more well-dressed cake? The answer is simple. She threatened my date. With a candelabra. And several bridesmaids. What else was I to do? I ask you.
Speaking of my date, he has recently become significantly more than that. The proper parents have been spoken to and the Forms have been Obeyed and I am now being officially Courted! I adore his sister and his mother, by the way. I don't have to tell you that this bodes ill for the poor man's future.
And, no, I shan't tell you his name. You'll just compose some horrid couplet with it.
More details as they fall into place.
Send my regards to your father and (one hopes) to Giancarlo.
Love,
Rosamunde