Martirae had written plenty of letters in the past few months - gossip, really, traded back and forth with Iathe. But there had always been that promise that they’d see each other soon in the undertones of it all. This one felt more serious. Anakumath rested her head on the woman’s knee as she frowned at the blank page, radiating a quiet yet unwavering love. Without even a glance, Marty rested a hand on the gold’s head, stroking it gently.

Will saying how you feel not suffice? Martirae had never shied from a choice in words before. It will. I just want to use the right words. They will be all there is this time. They wouldn’t be poetic by any means - Martirae would have never fancied herself the kind to write floral language that would woo the senses. Anakumath thrummed understandingly. I think they will understand any way you want to put it, she offered supportively.

She tapped her writing implement against the corner of the table, before carefully beginning to write.

Prism Shine

Amiari,

I find myself wishing Mom or Dad was around to share this tangle of feelings I have with. Without them, I found you came to mind in their stead and was hoping you would not mind hearing them all.

Before anything else, I am happy in High Reaches. I am surrounded by good friends, by focus for my future, and by little Anakumath - who is greater than anything I ever dared dream would call me Mine.

That said, I miss familiarity. The halls are similar and I have found navigating to be no difficult task, but none of these places hold the warmth of nostalgia. Memories of dragging my fingers along walls while walking with mom, or little worn out places where one tapped the sand out of their shoes so they didn’t track it thru the hallways. I still remember these things, but I feel like the smallest things may slip through my fingers and be forgotten. Like these thoughts are held mostly in items in passing and not myself.

I wonder if this feeling is the loss of home so many who came to the Weyr after Threadfall felt.

For all my happiness and how much more I have gained than I left behind, I was not expecting to struggle this hard. I know more difficult days are ahead, yet this weighs on me. Does it get easier?

Well Wishes,

Martirae


It felt rough, but maybe there was a charm in not trying to comb over it again to refine the rough edges that seemed so characteristic of her. But if she was going to write, she figured she had a little bit more in her.

Quote:

Ezyzu,

I have no doubt that news of my beloved already met you. A shame circumstances will keep you from getting to see her for any extended amount of time, I am certain that Khaimath and Anakumath would get along splendidly.

Is all well back home? I can see signs that there was some trouble after the events of our Hatching and while I know how things turned out on this end, I wonder about any unrest that may follow such a shake-up of how things have been for so long.

Hoping you are well,

Martirae


It felt less polished than the first, but it was an attempt, at least, and Marty seemed at least somewhat appeased by this. Anakumath thrummed in her lap, lifting her head as the young woman scratched around her cheeks and under her neck, finding soft yet itchy spots that would need more oil before she sent these letters off.

But it was an attempt, at least, and maybe it would take the edge off a little bit.