paradisalogs | Letter the First

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Letter the First

[in the early morning, Lemony slipped out of the castle, shrouded from the knees down in a fog that rose off the snow, giving it all the appearance that it had a ghostly double lying on top of it, vying for space. wisps of it rose from the cobblestones and danced over the ice in the town fountain. by the time he reached the door of Violet's workshop, her guardian was rubbing his gloved hands together against the chill, so that they would not fumble as he quietly worked his messenger bag open. the leather straps protested slightly in the cold, but he was able to withdraw the letter carefully folded within, and slip it through the mail slot, sure not to catch the scarlet wax seal on the brass as it dropped. there was a flutter deep in his chest, as though he had set a bird free, rather than a message, and he nodded once to himself before turning away.

cold or no cold, morning was the best time to explore a town. perhaps he'd find some fresh greens at a grocer for his friend Jennifer to eat, now that she was a turtle, or a small cafe where he could sit and enjoy a cup of tea. the day that stretched out in front of him was entirely his... and he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. it felt oddly light...

one long, heavy letter lighter, as a matter of fact.

there were a lot of things he didn't know what to do with, these days. and he was beginning to find that it was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.]

Dearest Violet and Sunny,

Are you familiar with the idea of the palimpsest? It is a Latin word, which refers to a document which has had its previous contents scraped or erased away, so that the paper can be used again for a new purpose. The word itself comes from Greek for "scraped again", as paper used to be made from much stronger material, from which the ink truly could be scraped away. In many cases, when the paper was used for a second time, the marks made by its former writer could still be seen beneath the new letters.

I am not saying this to teach you a new sort of code, though it is true that palimpsests can be a very fine delivery method for messages one would rather keep secret. You may search this letter all you like, and you will see no afterimage, no ghosts of letters past. And yet, I still feel as though this letter is a palimpsest, as the things I wish to write to you about carry the echoes of messages I wrote long ago, even while I would speak of things that are entirely, wholly, heart-poundingly new. It may also help to think of the things I have already disclosed to you as part of this palimpsest, so that I do not find myself knee-deep in the tedious - a word which here means "causing a waste of ink and cramping hands" - chore of repeating myself.

Many times, I have said that I am honored by the opportunity to be your guardian, but it is not the sort of honor one feels upon receiving the key to a city, a trophy for a spelling bee, a larger office in a corner with brightly lit windows, or even a free scoop of ice cream on a hot day for being patient and waiting in line while other less responsible people ahead of you have dropped their ice cream on the pavement for careless reasons and lost it forever. It is the sort of honor that comes with knowing that you are the keeper of a treasure: like the boy with the key to the magical cupboard, or the young beginning spy with a notebook full of dear secrets, or the girl who finds a garden and learns to make it grow. But it is so, so much more than that, when one considers the palimpsest beneath: if, for example, the boy had once had another cupboard which shattered, or the spy a secret that could not be kept, or the girl had once lost a vast and singular greenhouse in a terrible fire. Imagine, then, the way they would feel upon discovering such treasures or being entrusted with them. It would not matter if the cupboard was made of sturdier, more shatterproof material, or the notebook were the sort that could be written in in the rain or locked with a key, or the garden were full of hardy plants that could grow back after being burnt. They would be treasures all the same, and even more dear for it.

A treasure is not always guarded because of its worth to others. Sometimes it is guarded because of what it means to the guardian.

Faithfully yours,

((OOC: Now that you've all enjoyed your dose of feelings, consider this an open town log.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, it was remarkable. Once we were out a discernible distance from the Dead Zone, the snow all melted and the sun came out.... It was as though spring arrives earlier elsewhere. .... I admit, I felt quite overdressed, and had to leave a decent amount of my luggage in a safe location for the return trip.

Huh. Now that's something to think about. Maybe the seasons linger on the borders and wait to spring on us.

[Jane's not usually prone to whimsy like that, but in this case she'll make the exception.]

[he laughs, a genuine smile spreading across his face. that's happening more and more, lately, and he's not sure if he should be worried]

Well punned. ... And somehow, entirely possible, despite the initial absurdity of the idea.

Most likely! I remember autumn and winter happening upon us in quite a hurry when their times drew near.

[She's smiling too! Smiling at the absurd, imagine that.]

Did they? I arrived just after winter began... Please, tell me more? I should very much like to be prepared for the coming year.

Well, I came here during Paradisa's summer, and when autumn came the trees changed their colors and dropped their leaves quite suddenly. And when winter came, the cold and snow rushed in. I assume that everything will be in bloom when we wake up on the first day of spring.

... Hmm. While such a sudden abundance of flora would certainly be aesthetically pleasing, I have a feeling it would wreak utter havoc on those of us who suffer from seasonal allergies. I do hope the clinic is well-prepared for such things.

I would think so. But could the castle handle a veritable legion of people drowsy on Benadryl? I don't think I could.

Perhaps there are sufficient homeopathic remedies?

I thought homeopathy didn't really work.

As with most things, it depends upon the situation. Some homeopathic remedies are quite useful, and have been proven through time to be so... and others were simply invented. Unfortunately, it's become a case of the bad giving the good a bad name.

I see...so then, what is an example of one that DOES work? Because if we're still thinking in allergies, I cringe at the man who thinks force feeding peanuts to someone who is highly allergic to them is a grand presumption.

Garlic and a few certain flowers steeped in oil is an excellent treatment for earaches. I knew a computer hacker once who swore by it. And horseradish is the only known remedy for certain horrible poisonous fungi.

Huh...fascinating.

It is, yes, though the Medusoid Mycelium is just as terrifying as it is awe-inspiring.

That's the fungus, right? What makes it so poisonous?

Oh, it was bred to be so.... When it opens, the spores spread through the air, and if inhaled, slowly collapse the airways of their victims. The spores spreads very quickly in enclosed spaces, as well.

Oh my goodness!! How terrifying! And horseradish really clears them out?

It does, yes. I'm not entirely sure as to how the chemistry behind it works, but that is the reason that a large horseradish factory was built on Lousy Lane - to combat the effects of the fatal fungus should an outbreak occur.

I see! Gosh, am I sure glad there's nothing like that where I'm from, earth or otherwise!

[now, that caught his interest, as it wasn't a phrase he had expected to hear her say in such a serious context]

"Or otherwise"?

Of course, I can't be too sure, even after five months I doubt I've seen everything-

[And then she realizes you asked a question.]

Oh! I'm sorry! I was just thinking in terms of what has happened back home. I'm playing a game with my friends, and we all have our very own planets.

That's quite alright: any conversation of merit has its deviations from the subject for the sake of variety and depth. .... Besides, we've likely exhausted the topic of Mycelium within a conversational scope. And I must say, your remark about individual planetary holdings intrigues me. How did you and your friends come by such unique interstellar real estate?

Gosh! Well it's kind of a long story - probably longer than even I know of, now that I think about it. But I can try to explain it.

You see, back home, my friends and I were able to access a very elite game in its beginning stages called Sburb. This might be hard to believe, but it can literally change reality, and you have to physically enter the game through a series of events! When you enter it, you get your very own planet to explore.

... That sounds like an extremely complicated game. I can understand why gaining access to it would be considered elite ... but even setting up such interplanetary travel would be exorbitantly expensive. However did you and your friends afford it - and what sort of company could have the capital to fund such an endeavor? And for that matter ... what on earth was the goal of gameplay?

[is that enough questions? if not, he has more. lots, lots more]

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I literally looked that up just now, holy crap

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