[Since he's moved out, she hasn't spoken to him. She doesn't even know where he's staying. It might be better that way, but given what just barreled into her, she can't say nothing.
He's their family, too.]
Torgal is here.
[And she's overjoyed despite the fact that it could mean he's dead. She's overjoyed that this might mean needing to face Clive, but it would be unfair to Torgal to keep them apart.]
[She tells herself she's only doing this because she has extra sweets. She and Clive are friends, and she sent plenty of notes out via wraiths to thank her other friends for their love and their friendship. It felt nice to do. Clive, she cannot thank for love, but she can at least leave him a little reminder that she cares. So, it's a handwritten note and a little heart shaped box of chocolates she sets on his bed while he's out.]
I hope the warmer days bring you joy. - Jill
[Short and sweet. She's doing her best not to feel bitter during this time of the year that is apparently all about love, and the biggest obstacle is the man she lives with. That she still loves, despite the hurt.]
[Why did a wraith deliver this when they live in the same house? Strange. There's a chocolate bar and a red rose with a note attached:]
You are very strange but also very entertaining. Will I ever feel I can leave a conversation without warning you to behave? We will have to wait and see.
- Jill
[How one can confuse Astarion and Clive, Jill will never understand.]
Jill's never really seen the house without snow. As the weather warms and the snow melts away, she can truly appreciate the yard for the first time. Or, really, appreciate the idea of the yard. The less snow, the more evident what months of a wolf having free reign has done.
(And maybe one of the neighbors knocked on the door and asked about the smell that came over the fence as the sun warmed the yard.)
So, Jill is trailing behind Clive with an open bag to collect the wolf shit left ignored for months. It's not an entirely easy task, as Torgal had done some rather impressive burrowing in the snow, managing to dig through frozen ground. There's an alarming amount of bones scattered throughout the yard, hidden by said hound, only to be lost in the next snowfall. It's a mess. But they're making progress, together.
I have need of your services, should you be interested.
[ Mara's well aware she didn't have to word the request that way but she has always been fond of wordplay. Based on his response she can adjust her expectations accordingly. ]
A simple question about his day has turned into a pleasant surprise. He seems happy she asked, and that joy she sees in the depths of his blue eyes just makes her want to ask more. And so she does, and before she knows it, he's telling her about that show he's been watching and she's nodding along and smiling. Does she follow all that he's explaining? No. But she enjoys listening to him talk, and he has her full attention as they sit on the couch, focus entirely on him.
She's glad he can find happiness in the little things. He deserves whatever he can find.
In the natural lull of conversation, she reaches for Clive's hand. She doesn't want him to stop talking, but it feels rare to have him upstairs in the living room when the sun is shining. Surely he'll try to leave to go take a nap or prepare before it's time to hunt. She looks down as she laces their fingers together, biting down the selfish desire to ask him to stay.
It is with great excitement that I send you this missive. This is my first experience sending a message over the Network. Sending you my inaugural correspondence seemed appropriate. Admittedly, there is a certain elegance lacking when compared to writing with a quill, but there are conveniences that cannot be denied. For example, in the rare incident that a correction must needs be made in my writing, the 'delete' button proves most useful. What a gift such a feature would be to keep one's parchment pristine!
Jests aside, I wish to put into writing my sincerest gratitude and appreciation for you and for this chance to be together. The tumultuous nature of my arrival did not bode well for any future to be had in Limbo, but when you came to my rescue, it was as if all that had gone wrong hitherto that moment was washed away. Little did I know the days that followed would bring more happy surprises. That is all your doing, Clive. If not for you, our family would not be complete, with His Highness a most honored accompaniment.
It is my hope that if my speech and actions prove insufficient to express my jubilation, then mayhap my writing will do so in their stead. There is the added benefit of these devices adorning our persons at nearly all times. Therefore, if you ever feel the need for a reminder of how much you are cherished, I pray you will read this message.
Forevermore, Joshua
P.S. Dependent on when you receive this correspondence, would you care for a walk? I would like to learn more about the city and would feel most comfortable with you by my side.
[Left on Clive's bed is a letter. For once, it is not a reply to one of his.]
My Love,
I will do my best to not let this get too long, but I cannot promise anything when I hold so much affection for you in my heart. I think of you often, and so often I wish I could take your pain from you. I cannot do that, but I can share with you what I keep in my heart, and I hope it brings you comfort. I hope you revisit this letter when your heart is heavy.
You have always given me courage and strength. From the days we chased Torgal through the courtyard to making that last push to the next inn on the road, I have always regarded you as special. There is a fire and a passion in you that has nothing to do with Ifrit or the strength of your body. I have indeed seen you at your best and at your worst, and I want you to know that there is nothing in you broken beyond repair. I know how strongly you feel otherwise. When I look at you, I still see the man that has saved me again and again. I still see the man that not only stands strong after enduring so much, but helps me do the same. You help me carry on in this life with purpose. You have faltered and stumbled, perhaps felt lost, but that does not make you weak or less worthy of my love.
I love every piece of you, even your fears. They are a part of who you are, a component of the heart I cherish, and it all comes from a desire to be loved and keep your loved ones safe. You are so precious to me. I must keep you safe, too. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders but you also deserve to be happy. When I go to the cathedral, I thank whatever higher powers that may be listening for the opportunity to share my life with you. I will always be here for you. We have survived so much together. I believe that we can be happy. I believe you will see yourself in a kinder light, and I will bring you there myself even if I must show you every day that you are wonderful.
You are enough, more than enough, just as you are. I believe in you, in us, and in the beautiful future we have together. I will write you another letter soon. I am running out of room.
[ Dion leaves the letter during one of his visits to Jill's, Clive's, and now Joshua's home. Though his visits never coincide with Clive's presence in the house, for good reason. He has not told Jill nor Joshua his intentions...though he's not forgotten Jill's anger the last time he kept such a secret from her, the circumstances are different this time.
There is no injustice he thinks he is righting, no secret being exposed; he only wishes to reach out his hand, one final time. ]
Clive,
Let my first words to you be an apology. If you've no desire to hear from me for all the grief I have caused you, I understand and bear no grudge. My only hope is that you will allow me this chance to make amends, even should it be the last contact we share.
I am sorry. The words you spoke when last we met linger in my mind nigh daily: the injustice you suffered at the hands of my family. To tell you that, had I known of your fate in those long years, I would have sought to aid you would do naught to mend the wounds left behind. To claim that my father would never had allowed such a travesty would be worse: it would be a lie. The traitoress did not poison him to wickedness, she merely encouraged it.
[ Dion needed to take a moment there, leaning away from the parchment until his vision cleared. ]
Yet as I have come to realize the faults of my father ran far deeper than I had ever dared to admit, I failed to see how my own actions mirrored his, even though that was never my intention. I have tried to control you, to push you, to decide for you what your fate should be and for that I am full of deep regret. You are your own man, Clive Rosfield, and you are the best of us. I saw it in the Hideaway, in the eyes of your people, every single day as we awaited the final battle to come. I do not believe their faith in you was misplaced, no matter the battle's outcome. None other than you could have confronted the self-proclaimed god and won. Not because you were Mythos or Ifrit or Cid the Outlaw, but because you are Clive. Every soul ever drawn to you, who lent you their strength, knew the same.
I would see you again, should you permit me the honor. You need not indulge me nor send a missive in reply should you wish otherwise. Greagor knows I deserve no such considerations. Yet if you would grant me this, I will await your company this sennight's end on the eve of Samhain, at Lethe Square Park.
It's a comfortable morning. Breakfast has been eaten, the dishes washed and put away, and Jill's managed to seduce Clive back to bed under the premise of reading together. She's happily snuggled against his side, head on his chest, and hand slipped under his shirt to rest on the warm skin of his stomach.
As he reads, she can feel herself fighting sleep, eyes heavy and the rumble of his voice threatening to pull her under. He's warmer than any blanket. More comfortable than any pillow.
"I must confess something to you, Clive," she says during a pause. And so he doesn't panic: "I'm falling asleep."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text
He's their family, too.]
Torgal is here.
[And she's overjoyed despite the fact that it could mean he's dead. She's overjoyed that this might mean needing to face Clive, but it would be unfair to Torgal to keep them apart.]
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threading here bc I CAN
I forgive you even tho I now must fix this inbox page to look nice
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vday
I hope the warmer days bring you joy.
- Jill
[Short and sweet. She's doing her best not to feel bitter during this time of the year that is apparently all about love, and the biggest obstacle is the man she lives with. That she still loves, despite the hurt.]
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Val-O-Gram
[This beautiful drawing comes along with a white carnation and a chocolate bar.]
val-o-gram
You are very strange but also very entertaining. Will I ever feel I can leave a conversation without warning you to behave? We will have to wait and see.
- Jill
[How one can confuse Astarion and Clive, Jill will never understand.]
text
When you see this and are home, come find me. I think we should finally watch that film we purchased so long ago. Wake me up if I happen to be asleep.
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shit (dog and dad variety)
(And maybe one of the neighbors knocked on the door and asked about the smell that came over the fence as the sun warmed the yard.)
So, Jill is trailing behind Clive with an open bag to collect the wolf shit left ignored for months. It's not an entirely easy task, as Torgal had done some rather impressive burrowing in the snow, managing to dig through frozen ground. There's an alarming amount of bones scattered throughout the yard, hidden by said hound, only to be lost in the next snowfall. It's a mess. But they're making progress, together.
"We'll do better next winter," Jill promises.
WOW what a starter lmao
😊
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text
[ Mara's well aware she didn't have to word the request that way but she has always been fond of wordplay. Based on his response she can adjust her expectations accordingly. ]
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maybe cute shit <3
She's glad he can find happiness in the little things. He deserves whatever he can find.
In the natural lull of conversation, she reaches for Clive's hand. She doesn't want him to stop talking, but it feels rare to have him upstairs in the living room when the sun is shining. Surely he'll try to leave to go take a nap or prepare before it's time to hunt. She looks down as she laces their fingers together, biting down the selfish desire to ask him to stay.
it's already cute wtf
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[TEXT] | A couple of days post arrival...
It is with great excitement that I send you this missive. This is my first experience sending a message over the Network. Sending you my inaugural correspondence seemed appropriate. Admittedly, there is a certain elegance lacking when compared to writing with a quill, but there are conveniences that cannot be denied. For example, in the rare incident that a correction must needs be made in my writing, the 'delete' button proves most useful. What a gift such a feature would be to keep one's parchment pristine!
Jests aside, I wish to put into writing my sincerest gratitude and appreciation for you and for this chance to be together. The tumultuous nature of my arrival did not bode well for any future to be had in Limbo, but when you came to my rescue, it was as if all that had gone wrong hitherto that moment was washed away. Little did I know the days that followed would bring more happy surprises. That is all your doing, Clive. If not for you, our family would not be complete, with His Highness a most honored accompaniment.
It is my hope that if my speech and actions prove insufficient to express my jubilation, then mayhap my writing will do so in their stead. There is the added benefit of these devices adorning our persons at nearly all times. Therefore, if you ever feel the need for a reminder of how much you are cherished, I pray you will read this message.
Forevermore,
Joshua
P.S. Dependent on when you receive this correspondence, would you care for a walk? I would like to learn more about the city and would feel most comfortable with you by my side.
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a letter
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Letter, sent one week before the night of Samhain;
There is no injustice he thinks he is righting, no secret being exposed; he only wishes to reach out his hand, one final time. ]
Clive,
Let my first words to you be an apology. If you've no desire to hear from me for all the grief I have caused you, I understand and bear no grudge. My only hope is that you will allow me this chance to make amends, even should it be the last contact we share.
I am sorry. The words you spoke when last we met linger in my mind nigh daily: the injustice you suffered at the hands of my family. To tell you that, had I known of your fate in those long years, I would have sought to aid you would do naught to mend the wounds left behind. To claim that my father would never had allowed such a travesty would be worse: it would be a lie. The traitoress did not poison him to wickedness, she merely encouraged it.
[ Dion needed to take a moment there, leaning away from the parchment until his vision cleared. ]
Yet as I have come to realize the faults of my father ran far deeper than I had ever dared to admit, I failed to see how my own actions mirrored his, even though that was never my intention. I have tried to control you, to push you, to decide for you what your fate should be and for that I am full of deep regret. You are your own man, Clive Rosfield, and you are the best of us. I saw it in the Hideaway, in the eyes of your people, every single day as we awaited the final battle to come. I do not believe their faith in you was misplaced, no matter the battle's outcome. None other than you could have confronted the self-proclaimed god and won. Not because you were Mythos or Ifrit or Cid the Outlaw, but because you are Clive. Every soul ever drawn to you, who lent you their strength, knew the same.
I would see you again, should you permit me the honor. You need not indulge me nor send a missive in reply should you wish otherwise. Greagor knows I deserve no such considerations. Yet if you would grant me this, I will await your company this sennight's end on the eve of Samhain, at Lethe Square Park.
Yours in deepest regards,
Dion
sorry your dad sux
As he reads, she can feel herself fighting sleep, eyes heavy and the rumble of his voice threatening to pull her under. He's warmer than any blanket. More comfortable than any pillow.
"I must confess something to you, Clive," she says during a pause. And so he doesn't panic: "I'm falling asleep."
Excuse me my dad doesn’t suck
actually he sucks a lot
whoa..........................
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no subject
And, after a brief pause:
“It is good for me to know such a thing is possible, and who is worth labouring for.”