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| Details |
| Author: | OzmaAsimov |
| Summary: | Paluuva receives an unexpected letter that stirs up long buried emotions. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Chain: Exes and Woes
A response to: (2022-09-25) Two Letters from a Dead Man
Paluuva sat in her study, surrounded by books and silence. It was a rare, welcome quiet these days. Since rejoining her fellow Aldor in Outland, her life had become so much more adventurous. Not that she minded adventure; much could be learned from books, but experience was the greatest teacher.
A collection of recent post was stacked neatly on the desk. One by one she picked up her letters and packages, opening them, reading each with care. With each that had even the slightest personal touch, she paused to take a quill to blank parchment and pen a response.
Picking up an envelope with a return address she did not recognize, Paluuva made a soft sound of curiosity and opened the letter to read. As she scanned the contents, her eyes slowly grew and her lips parted in disbelief.
“Oh…no…he did not.”
Paluuva’s cheeks flushed a deeper blue, her blood rising to her face. She could feel her pulse quickening with the rush of emotion. The nerve…the unabashed gall of that man. After everything he put her through, the centuries of devotion she gave him, the devastating heartbreak…to ask for her tolerance and aid now?
Realizing the quaking of her hands, Paluuva took a deep, steadying breath. Even after all these millennia, the void he left in his wake remained. Had it really been here all that time? Had she truly never let it go, that he could still affect her like this with a mere letter?
She dared to return to the letter, rereading his words: “…you were always more tolerant of my eccentricities than most. If anyone were able to tolerate the new eccentricities I have acquired, logic suggests it would be you.” Logic. She prided herself on her ability to make logical decisions, even when her emotions might lead her another direction. He seemed to be relying on that. Was this a manipulation? He was never a manipulator before. He just…didn’t care.
The problem was that Paluuva did care. She always cared. “No need to reply if the answer is no” the letter concluded. She always replied when it was personal, and this was deeply personal. Yet, even as she reached for her quill, her hand faltered and trembled. Was it too personal? What would she even say? She had not so much as uttered his name in over ten-thousand years, but there it was in his own hand:
Icaros.