Work Text:
Dear Cub,
I thought I’d write to you as soon as you left, so you don’t have to wait for a letter from home for too long. You must be busy with your classes by now. How is the Capital? I’ve heard it’s beautiful in the fall. I have to say I’m a little jealous. I’ll try not to waste too much space complaining about the twyre bloom making our senses miserable.
Stakh’s been sullen since you left. Grief and I have done our best to cheer him up, though I’m not sure if he’ll ever be happy again, at least until you come back. I can’t blame him too much, because I miss you too. And it’s only been three days! Please write often. We won’t be able to bear it otherwise.
Wishing you all the best with your studies,
Gravel
--
Cub,
I’m glad you’re doing well at school. The story about the pigeons by your dormitory made me smile. Remember that time your father was trying to teach us about the proper way to bandage a scrape, and Grief let all of those birds loose? To this day I don’t know how he did that. I’ve never seen Uncle Burakh so angry.
I know your birthday isn’t for a while, but I didn’t know about the train schedules, and it’s starting to get cold anyway, so I sent your gift along early. I hope you find them useful, and maybe they’ll remind you of home. Sorry if the size isn’t exact-- I didn’t have your measurements on-hand (you know… because they’re gloves. Oh, Grief would be disappointed in my wordplay).
Thinking of you during these cold and dark days,
Gravel
--
Haven't heard from you in a while, so I thought I’d write. It’s hard to believe it’s been two years since you left. The town has changed so much. Two architects arrived from the Capital-- twin geniuses around our age. Perhaps they put you in my mind.
I received a letter from Father at the front. He never says it outright, but I can tell the war is going badly. The fleet hasn’t arrived and morale is low. Stakh sometimes talks of joining him. I know it’s all hot air. I don’t think I’d want him to anyway-- I have enough to worry about.
Stakh is convinced you’re going to find a wife in the Capital and never return. I tell him not to give up so easily, but he just laughs. Please don’t think too poorly of him. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to come back, it’s just how he tries to avoid being hurt.
Take care,
Lara
--
If you’re so busy in the clinic, you shouldn’t write to little old me!
That was a joke. It’s nice to hear from you. Your father is well, and Stakh is as well as can be expected. I can’t tell you how Grief is doing because I haven’t spoken to him. Write him yourself if you’re so concerned. I can tell you that whatever misfortune befalls him, it is one he brought on himself.
I do wish I could come visit you. Lately when I do more than knit I start to feel faint.
The last time I left town… I think it was just after Ersher died. I went to visit my father at the port where he was stationed. It was so strange-- I couldn’t bear to be near the water. One night after we arrived, I awoke in the woods, half-frozen and dressed in my nightgown. I think I was trying to get as far away from the shore as I could.
Maybe Stakh’s right, and our souls are anchored to the earth here. What is it like for you to be so far from home? Have you forgotten everything?
Still your friend,
Lara
--
Cub,
I keep starting this letter and throwing it away again. How are you?
I went to the old place by myself the other night, the one near the Basket. At first it was a little frightening to be alone in the dark, but somehow I felt completely safe, the way I did when everyone was still here. When I closed my eyes, I could hear the sounds of insects singing and the wind moving through the steppe-- and you’ll probably laugh at me for this-- I stayed for so long I fell asleep.
I had a dream. I was following a bull through the streets of town, which were empty. Beyond the town, there was a wall of black smoke that covered up the whole sky, thick as night and closing in. When I approached, I saw that it was actually a flock of crows.
I wonder if the dream was sent to me by Victoria or Nina-- it’s hard to believe they’re gone. Or maybe it didn’t mean anything, and it was a product of my own restless mind. I’d be a terrible Mistress, wouldn’t I?
Hope you’re well.
Lara
--
Dear Cub,
I haven't heard from my father in several months. I think that’s why I’m writing you, although you’re even less likely to respond. I might as well throw my notes in the Gorkhon, or hide them in a children’s cache.
Sorry. That’s unfair.
You remember the cache game, don’t you? There was the one we hid at the Scruff together before you left. A piece of chalk from you, a candle from Stakh, a lockpick from Grief, and a needle from me. We signed all our names on scraps of paper like we were done with them.
I’m not sure if you’d recognize our town anymore, or if it would recognize you. The children play new and frightening games in that strange tower. They still call the trains, though. And I still listen for them.
Thoughtfully yours,
Lara
--
Artemy,
I'm joining the army-- I've decided. This will be the last time I contact you.
Don’t shed a tear for me, Cub; I neither desire nor deserve your sympathy, and I don’t want to implicate you any further.
You should burn this after you read it and destroy all memories you have of the person named “Lara Ravel.”
--
Dear Cub,
Please disregard my last letter. I sent it in haste.
Stakh told me your father wrote you and asked you to return. I will tell you this direct: it is better if you stay away. Your father's role is a painful one, a cruel one, and I keep having these dreams and I want you to be happy. If no one else, then at least you.
You spoke of fate with me before-- I know you think a person capable of choosing their own fate, so I’m asking you to refuse him.
We love you, Cub. Don’t come home.
Yours, always,
Gravel
