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[Willow Smythe]

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She didn't have to walk three steps into the town of Jhelom before she realized something was amiss. Townsfolk came and rushed her, apparently angry at the newest destruction.

"They came in, on horses!"

"My Door is in pieces! "

"...Didn't even think about opening it with a knob..."

"TWICE IN ONE MONTH"

"But the chickens...."

Willow didn't need to ask who, or why, the answers were abundantly clear.


"I will take care of this.....again. At least the days are warmer, freezing isn't an issue" She offered to try and placate the crowds.

Willow shut herself in the Hand of Death. Immediately she pulled out four pieces of parchment, a bottle of in and a quill. She began to pen the necessary letter.

Dearest Cousin Evenna,
I am torn with the news of the town. On one hand, you were doing your duty yet on the other I think the objective may have been a little skewed in your fervor. I debated walking the other direction when the townspeople came up to me with wooden shards of what was their door. I suggest we handle this apparent situation rationally because, I don't want my town in ruin because of a little fling. I appreciate your enthusiasm but lets reach a compromise. I told Aibne that if I have to hear of cold chickens again, it will be he that keeps them warm. Now, if I have to hear the scribe complain about the wind blowing his scrolls to and fro again, I will assign you personally to be on guard to alphabetize them every time the wind causes them to go astray. Lets discuss this with the boy like rational adults, I'll send word of a meeting time.

Thank you Cousin,
Willow
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Malorn ‎(12:14 AM):
I'm an idiot

[Evenna Vael]

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Evenna was pale and tired, she hadn't slept much the night before, so she had fallen asleep under a shady tree the gentle breezes of Jhelom flowing across her....

A bit later... a letter fell with a thud onto the sleeping warriors lap and it roused her from her dreams with a wild and frantic scream piercing the dimming day. Children laughing and playing nearby stopped staring at her. She blinked.. it was the Eventide. Carefully she opened the note running her finger over Willows name. She was shaking, she realized, and large splattered tears wetted the letter.

Suddenly and without warning, things became blurry she had trouble focusing and she felt that old familiar feeling settling over her. One she had hoped would never return. She grabbed a quill from her pack, and before the madness set in she wrote a brief crooked reply..


I'm Sorry..It is my fault...... She felt the laughter bubble up and she dropped the letter letting the wind take it from her grasp and her skirts flying about her, she could still smell the acrid smell of smoke. Picking up her skirts she ran, her weapon wildly flailing before her, her last conscious thought of Aibne....

Then darkness..... and her own wild laughter.
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There is Freedom in Strength...