8th Zi'da 717
She'd slept for more or less two trials and Faith was starting to feel a little suspicious about the tea brought to her by Katie. "Is she drugging me?" Faith asked Cyrus and he looked at her and smiled slightly. Faith glowered at him. It was rare that Faith did any such thing, but the look she gave Cyrus told of her displeasure. "I'd like it to stop." she said and, as much as she understood why Katie was doing it, because she'd not slept since all connection with Padraig was lost, it stopped now."I'm going into my workshop for a few breaks," she said and Cyrus looked at her with that level gaze which usually worked so well. Katie came out from the kitchen and Faith felt a flash of irritation at her. "And I'm going to cook tonight." Katie looked rather surprised, glancing at Cyrus before she spoke to Faith. "Little doll," Katie said with a careful tone to her voice. "It's not a bother for us to do it." Faith looked at them both and she sighed slightly.
"I'm pregnant. I'm not ill. I'm tired, yes, but I can function. I need to be busy, now. I can't sit around worrying." Faith was determined, her tone quiet but absolutely adamant. Katie was about to argue, but Cyrus nodded his head. "Seems fair to us." Faith smiled at him gratefully and nodded her head. She couldn't wait around and not do anything, she had to do something. She just wasn't yet sure what.
So, Faith stood up and exited, into the deep snow of the garden where she walked across the path which couldn't be seen and into the workshop Padraig had built for her. She loved Cyrus and Katie, but she just wanted to be alone, needed to be alone. Time to think, to plan, to try and work out what she could do. She sat down and pulled out a parchment, then she started writing.
Padraig,
I never told you, I find it hard starting these. Not now, not the words I write, just the first one. I believe the etiquette is that I would write "Dear Padraig," but that seems too formal. "My love," seems far too sappy when such distance separates us, and so I revert to the pragmatic. Your name. What strangeness there is in writing. It would not occur to me to think about what to call you were I to be standing in front of you. I wish I was.
So, we have lost contact, the bonds external to our hearts are broken and not even the echo scrolls work. I am worried and feel like this is just proof that I should have gone with you. Of course I should have. I want, so much, to come after you to chase you as I know you would if the tables were reversed. But Bun needs protecting more than you or I, is more important that what either of us want or need.
However, I can't sit and wait to hear if you are alive or dead, so I'm going to do what I would always do. I'm going to talk it over with you. Write it down, then look at it with your eyes not mine. Because I know that the things external to us are not working, but that means that the strongest bond we have is working just fine. I am going to use that.
As I see it, the problems in front of us are thus:
1. The physical distance
2. The fact that those things which allowed us to communicate have stopped working.
3. The weather
4. My pregnancy
If we were working together on a project, we would sit together and identify the issues, then work through them one at a time. That's what I'm going to do.
At least, then, I'll feel useful and I'll know that I am doing something. I have to do something.
Yours, always.
Faith
I never told you, I find it hard starting these. Not now, not the words I write, just the first one. I believe the etiquette is that I would write "Dear Padraig," but that seems too formal. "My love," seems far too sappy when such distance separates us, and so I revert to the pragmatic. Your name. What strangeness there is in writing. It would not occur to me to think about what to call you were I to be standing in front of you. I wish I was.
So, we have lost contact, the bonds external to our hearts are broken and not even the echo scrolls work. I am worried and feel like this is just proof that I should have gone with you. Of course I should have. I want, so much, to come after you to chase you as I know you would if the tables were reversed. But Bun needs protecting more than you or I, is more important that what either of us want or need.
However, I can't sit and wait to hear if you are alive or dead, so I'm going to do what I would always do. I'm going to talk it over with you. Write it down, then look at it with your eyes not mine. Because I know that the things external to us are not working, but that means that the strongest bond we have is working just fine. I am going to use that.
As I see it, the problems in front of us are thus:
1. The physical distance
2. The fact that those things which allowed us to communicate have stopped working.
3. The weather
4. My pregnancy
If we were working together on a project, we would sit together and identify the issues, then work through them one at a time. That's what I'm going to do.
At least, then, I'll feel useful and I'll know that I am doing something. I have to do something.
Yours, always.
Faith
Seriously, great little thread that really showed how hard it's been for Faith to hold herself together in his absence.