Violet and Mereavus; the Collection

Subject: Violet and Mereavus; the Collection Tue Dec 09, 2008 7:36 pm

The Final Letters

For the attention of Mereavus Varana, Royal Advisor to Queen Danele Valenti of Nharati

Eave,
It has been a long time since we last spoke, or since I have even heard word of you. Twelve years since I last saw you, and we parted on such bad terms. I wonder, will you recognise my handwriting, or need to scan down to my signature? Perhaps I won’t sign. Perhaps if you don’t recognise, then there was never any point writing to you in the first place.

Truth is, Eave, I want to come home. I want to be able to live the way I did live. But you and I both know, I can’t. Not without your help, anyway. And I would beg you; beg you to intercede on my behalf, beg you to help me come home. Only, I know you’d not. I know who exiled me here.

Another truth, is that I miss you. That I always have missed you, and always will. I miss the colour of your hair – I’ve not seen hair like yours in all the rest of Nharati, and believe me, I’ve looked. I miss your letters, and knowing you’ll think of me fondly. Now, I know the only time you’ll think of me, is in looking back. I miss the spikes in your writing.

I suppose I shall update you on the happenings of my life, and then it is your choice as to whether you read it or not. Trefa and I have been in this awful town for ten years. We spent two years just wandering. We lived together in a boarding house for a while, but around a year ago she married a wealthy merchant from the city. She said the prospects for her life were better. Is this my doom, Eave, to be so abandoned by the women I’ve loved – still do love – in their desires for betterment?

Speaking thus, I heard Remus passed. The last thing I heard of you was your ascension to Advisor – you have done well for yourself. Your ambition served you well. But the Cloister? That doesn’t sound like you at all.

Please, Eave. Let me come home. Let me see you again, and love you as I did. Let me live where I love to be. I promise, I won’t be so stupid as I was, and I’ll keep it quiet. And I won’t get jealous of any husband you may have now. I just want to come back so much.

Write to me, at least. Tell me you still love me. Once we swore it would always be us – do you remember?

I miss you.

- Violet Grosvenor

For the attention of Violet Grosvenor
Violet,
Please do not contact me again. I always wish to remember, but never to revisit. This is the last time you will see the spikes in my writing, and the last letter I will ever send you. I am happy, and in love, and have no desire to have you return. I am sorry to hear that the Damiens girl turned out to be false in the end.

Do not combine us into ‘the women you’ve loved’. I was many things to you, but false was never one of them.

I wish you well, darling, wherever you might go next. Please, do not write to me further.

- Mereavus Varana

Subject: Re: Violet and Mereavus; the Collection Mon Dec 29, 2008 4:35 pm

Dearest Violet,
I miss you. I know it is a particularly simple, elementary phrase, and you yourself would find some wonderful way to say it, and wrap it so prettily that it lost a little of its reality, but I can find no better way to say it than simply as it is. I miss you unalterably. He sits in the corner of our sitting room reading, scarcely noticing me writing to you, or my discontent in lieu of your absence.
And it is, do believe me, a painful and tortuous absence.
I find myself wanting to be at Grosvenor with you; drinking our horrendous concoctions, laughing about the latest idiocies, discussing art and literature and playing chess (aren’t we so dreadfully unfeminine?) on the balcony by your bedroom. I want to watch you undress in the dark, and watch the moonlight highlight you. It does highlight you best, all subtle curve and temptation. I’m so very bad with temptation.
Tell me I may come and see you. Let me escape a while, a week; perhaps two. However long, darling, but just let it be us. Let it be all wine and quail and dusky evenings, with all flesh and breathlessness thereafter. I’m filled with such a maudlin melancholy, and only knowing I may see you will cure me.
Do write and tell me I may see you. Do.

- Your Eave.

Darling!
I am renewed. Your letter positively thrilled me, so much so that even Remus noticed – isn’t that the thing? I will come, of course I will come. How could I beg you to let me, and then deny you? How could I deny you at all?
I won’t waste time with writing so much here – I want to tell you in person, between kisses, and have all the inspiration for my words right there in front of me; for as ingrained in my memory as you are, the real you is brightest, and best, and the most intoxicating.
I come, my darling. With luck, not so far behind this letter.
I love you.
- E

Dearest V.,
I can scarce believe you managed to keep me for an entire month. Or rather, I can, but I am surprised at my lack of concern for responsibility. You, my diaphanous, otherworldly nymph, seem to have utterly entranced me all over again.
And here I am, again, writing to you from my marital bed – which is as cold when I have company, as it is when empty. It could be hotter than Hell, and it would still be as northern sea ice without you. A month, my love – a month of you. I feel I should be overjoyed, still choking myself on the euphoria that these four weeks of delicious solitude have set in me. But it is a euphoria I can feel with only you. Without you, like a flower bent on seasonal survival, I wilt, and flourish only when you grace me.
You and I met as seeds under one another’s skin, and we have intertwined our branches inextricably – even when severed, they will regrow, anew, and we will be as indomitable and fresh as ever. If I were a blossom, and you the earth, I would cast myself all a quiver from the glory of my branch, to rest in muddy, inglorious ecstasy with that I cherish most.
I crave you tonight more than any other night, and tomorrow I will crave you more.

- E

V., [here, a small watercolour violet]
He leaves tomorrow. Come the day after? Spend the week with me. I want to watch the stars with you from the grass at the Chapel [a ruined building on the Vorserkeine estate], and have the husk of that vanished stained glass window watch us writhe. I want fresh air on my skin, and more essentially, more intrinsically, you.
Forgive me so much silence of late – Remus has been unwell, and it would be horrid of me to let him suffer and have him think I no longer care for him. You understand, don’t you? Please say you do.
I will make my absence up to you, my darling. I promise. We’ll send the servants away and haunt the manor ourselves, so that the echoes of our laughter linger long after, and comfort me when all I have is your perfume on my pillow.
Please come.
- E
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