paradisalogs | 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

[Violet has to wipe at her own eyes. Jerome was the closest guardian or perhaps Uncle Monty. But one had failed them and the other was killed. Violet hoped for both their and Lemony's sake this turns out better.]

Perhaps you can make him something, and we'll invite him over for dinner.

[Sunny nods, smiling. It's very encouraging to think that they can do something nice for their guardian and not have to worry about Olaf or his cohorts (which in this case means horribly cruel acting troupe turned criminal gang) interrupting with one of their dastardly schemes. They could have a real life here with pleasant dinners and evenings spent with family and friends instead of living in fear for what the next day may bring.]

Cuisine. [which of course means "I think that's a wonderful idea. I would love to make dinner for him."]

[She holds Sunny close to her. There's nothing more she's wanted than family here, than safety. For as much grief as this place gives, it's given her more than she could have back home. Family.]

Then it's settled. What would you have?

[She thinks for a moment. Her cooking skills may be somewhat limited as she is still learning but she does have some good ideas. She's also restricted by the fact that she cannot wield large enough knives to cook anything with a substantial amount of meat in it. Not without assistance that is.

But there are always alternatives. She smiles]

Oderfla. ["I can make spinach and pasta alfredo. I saw a recipe in a book"]

I think he'll like that. If you make me a list, I'll go to a few stores. [She turns to the desk and grabs a pen and paper.]

I think he'll like that.

[She nods and crawls off of her sister's lap and heads out of the room to go find the cook book.

She returns shortly, carrying the larger book. She lets it fall to the floor with a THUNK and flips it to the right page.]

ici! ["here it is!"]

[Quickly she wrote down everything the book said they needed.]

Seems easy enough. I think we can do that.

[This is going to be the best dinner ever! Sunny grins and points towards the door]

Wego? [Which roughly translates to "We should go shopping to make sure we can find all of the ingredients."]

I was thinking the same thing, Sunny. [She grins down at her.]

[She grins. This is going to be amazing. She has her big sister and a guardian and she gets to make a delicious delicious meal for them. The only thing missing is Klaus.]

Home. ["This is really starting to feel like a real home here, isn't it?"]

[That makes her smile. It's what she's been trying for.]

Now that you're here.

[She easily returns that smile.]

Ditto. [Which obviously means "Only because you're here, too."]

Good. Well let's head out, and try and contact Mr. Snicket soon.

[She nods and closes the recipe book, moving to put it on Violet's desk. She knows better than to leave books on the floor where they may be stepped on, after all.

That finished she smiles at her sister and nods. She's ready whenever you are, Vi.]

[She picks her up then and grabs her own coat. Off to a day of shopping.]

Letter the First

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject