Richard,
I hope you don't mind, but I happened upon you deep in thought in the castle courtyard and...well, the sight took my breath away.
I used a Muggle contraption (I believe they call it a camera) to capture these still images. You look almost corporeal...
E 🖤
E, my dear,
I am most intrigued by this Muggle contraption, and even more so — by how well you were able to capture me and my heart with it. And what a coincidence! I must admit, I had no idea that anybody was there at the time as I was most likely preoccupied with matters regarding me... Well, you said it yourself, looking corporal. If you have the time, allow me to explain.
You see, for the past two weeks I have been experimenting with something known as ancient magic. I cannot really see it but I can feel it when I am somewhere near the source, and I can really feel it if I touch it. If I spend plenty of time doing just that and focusing on being corporal — I seem to become so! Well, whatever part of me is surrounded by magic anyway.
That photo you took — I believe it was the first time that I have attempted to fully step into the stream of magic a day or two ago. The reason I needed to conduct some experiments first is rather serious as well: when the magic starts sipping away (and it never holds for longer than one day) I... Well, I am yet to find a way to make the transition back to my ghostly form less painful. As much as I was craving to feel, I forgot that pain is an integral part of life as well.
Needless to say that as fun as being able to be me again was, by the time I walked all the way back to the castle in my human form (and I got lost so many times since I could not just fly above the land toward the castle, oops) I was so tired that I just fell asleep on a bench somewhere near that area your camera captured me. When I woke up — I was a ghost again. At the very least, whatever pain I might have gone through that night, I slept through it.
I do hope that you are doing well, my darling. The sight of me should not be taking your breath away but instead making your heart beat and your soul soar. I hope you continue working on those still images because I did not get a chance to look at myself in the mirror that night. You are my only witness and I am honoured to have you share that special moment with me.
Thinking of you, always,
Richard Jackdaw
P. S. May I hope that someday I would be granted permission to call you by your proper name, my lady E?
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ANNETTE — “Hi, ace detective.” The young girl stifles a yawn. “We’ll be closing up soon, I’m afraid. Is there anything I can help you find?”
EMPATHY — She’s hoping the answer is yes. Any excuse to take a break from the dreaded *math homework.*
“No thanks, I was just on my way out.” [Leave]
“It’s okay, I don’t want to distract you from your studies.”
“Yeah, actually. I’m looking for a book.”
ANNETTE — She tries and fails to hide her relief as she sets her textbook under her chair. “Of course! What are you looking for, sir?”
“A happy story.”
“A sad story.”
“Something that will make me a better detective.”
“Something that will make me a better person.”
“Something about how to mend a broken heart.”
ANNETTE — “Oh…” She frowns, staring up at the shelves as if hoping that the perfect book will miraculously catch her eye. “Umm… Let me think…”
EMPATHY — She’s genuinely trying to think of one. She wants to help you.
ANNETTE — After a long, long pause, Annette finally lets out a sigh of defeat. “…I’m not sure,” she admits sadly. “I’m sorry, sir.”
YOU — “You can’t think of anything at all?”
ANNETTE — “Well… We do carry some self help books, sir, but…” She casts a quick glance around the store.
REACTION SPEED — Making sure Plaisance is out of earshot.
ANNETTE — The girl leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “Mother says those books are all snake oil. ‘If all it took to change somebody’s life was a book, *we* would be sitting quite prettily.’”
DRAMA — Her Plaisance impression is uncanny! What talent!
YOU — “Why do you sell them, then?”
ANNETTE — “Well,” she coughs, “not everyone agrees with my mother.”
RHETORIC — Translation: because people buy them. It’s as simple as that.
ANNETTE — “But I don’t think that’s quite what you’re looking for, is it, sir…?” She looks up at you with that seemingly impossible mixture of innocence and knowing that is unique to children.
“Yeah, you’re right. It isn’t.”
“No, I think I’ll give the self help books a try.”
“I’m not really sure what I’m looking for, to be honest.”
ANNETTE — She nods slowly, looking down at her frayed nails. “Lots of people come into the shop not quite knowing what they’re looking for. But that’s what’s so nice about bookshops, don’t you think? No matter where you look, you can find *something* interesting.” She smiles bright enough to light up every dark corner of the bookstore and the doomed commercial area below it. “I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for, ace detective. Maybe you just have to let it find *you.*”
+1 MORALE
VOLITION — Here in this bookshop. In Martinaise. Revachol. The world. This seemingly wretched lifetime. In the midst of it all, there is always something for you. Uncurl your fist. Let it find your palms upturned.
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