hearts: writing between myself and my lover
six: separation, longing
4 on the die: this is somewhat safe (speaking in coded phrases, touching lightly)

[following is a letter penned by sable, the unfavored, to the entity known familiarly as aphiel. letter penned unknown date, never sent.]


Aphiel,

I write this by the light of the moon only, and the dying embers of this campfire. Once I have finished this I plan to flee this scene and my companions, and travel alone for some time. I am sure they will be fine without me, and I know I will be without them.

In the time since your loss I have managed to lose all handle on passing days. The sun rises and sets, the moon waxes and wanes, and yet lost you remain. Time moves slower without you here, though still I know it has been… well. I try not to dwell too much on it. It will not bring you back sooner.

I am waiting, my beacon, as I knew I always would, but it grows harder every day. I have watched every empire of the world fall– even the victors could not survive the devastation her war wrought on the world. There are no cities remaining, no havens for families or the ill and injured. I have not seen a child in I don’t know how long. There is no hope here. There is no you.

That’s why I leave my companions now. They seek life, and freedom, and safety, but they do not know you. It breaks my heart, Aphiel, to see the lost and broken who do not recognize your name. Who never knew you, and will never know you, as I did, as we all did, so long ago. I cannot bear it.

You made me a promise, in the warmth of your light, so long ago. You promised to keep me us safe. Where are you now, my light? When will you fulfill your promise? I am waiting. It seems my body is holding its breath until your return, if you’re worried I will be gone when you come back. I think I will still be here. Sometimes I fear I will still be here, and you will never be. But I think I shall never leave, all the same.

Your temples grow cold without you, Aphiel. Please return your warmth to our world soon.

with the last sparks left in my dying heart,
the unfavored