Richard pulled himself straight in his chair, listening to the sounds of his neck and spine popping. He sat in the small church that adorned Grimshaw, his home town, making use of their eclectic collection of books - Lord Blackwood's library was a very fine one, but it was definitively Western focused. The young man set his books aside, careful not to smear ink on the pages. Writing with his left hand usually left ink smudged upon it, and he'd received enough reprimands in his life about that. He pulled a handkerchief from his lavender vest and rubbed at his palm, looking down at the runes that he'd translated.
Vossath Nor.
It explained a few things, at least. It explained why Darius had been in his dream, an occurrence that had nearly left Richard writing to Hazlan, to request an explanation - and how ridiculous that would have looked! Not so ridiculous at all, it appeared, now that Darius' letter had come.
It left more questions than answers. It was not so surprising for Darius to be terse, it was expected, really. Richard wasn't sure when the last time they'd spoken even
was, for sending a letter from one end of the Core to another meant their correspondence was an infrequent thing. And yet...
"as I think you have seen". He could only have known about the dream, to write such a thing. Had Darius engineered it? Or perhaps the "wiser heads", with shrouded form and golden eyes. Whichever one it was, it left Richard deeply unsettled.
"I-I am fond of you, D-Darius, but not... not
quite that much," Richard said aloud to himself, and then chuckled wryly.
What else did they know? Did they know about that Rashemani girl Richard had met, not so very long ago, holding a chunk of stolen Vossath Nor stone? It seemed like they must have, if they'd written that name on this letter. And if that were true, it left Richard feeling even more wary.
What else did they know? And what could they hope to gain, from Richard visiting? Richard tapped the letter idly against his chest.
He'd have to refuse, of course. He couldn't leave his family, not with Sarah in her delicate condition - not that Richard really had a use here. Alice was the one who knew herbs and tinctures and potions, Richard was an over-glorified nurse. But it was a matter of family solidarity, and he at least helped mind his nieces, since their mother was currently unable to. This whole business with the dream and letter left him with a disturbed feeling he could not explain. The wind howled through the chapel rafters, and Richard suddenly felt very cold.
He idly massaged his left hand, then reached out to take his pen from the inkwell, pulling over a fresh piece of parchment and pausing to put his thoughts in order. He had far too many thoughts, these days.
After fifteen minutes, he sighed, quietly cleaning the nib of his pen and putting his writing supplies away. He would write later, when he could better clear his head. The wind and the cold were distracting him, he decided, and it was past time he headed home.
"No, but evil is still being — Is having reason — Being reasonable! Mousie understands? Is always being reason. Is punishing world for not being... Like in head. Is always reason. World should be different, is reason."
