Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

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Irromantic letters [25 Chirreb 4260]

I haven't been writing much the last few days, for I have had another occupation to keep me awake 'til late in the night. Not the occupation that Spirshash keeps hinting at, mind you. I've been scraping sparks off of my magerium and stuffing them into a box, copying A Spell That Lasts for Yarwain, in exchange for a very practical Fresh Meat spell. With any luck I will be able to pick up a few lozens preserving the corpses of guntries from the heat of summer. Or the equally large letoof fishes that the river-Orren haul to shore, sometimes one in a day, sometimes four and they can't sell them all.

In point of fact, Spirshash has given up on me for the moment. One must not expect an Orren to stay interested in one for long, especially if one does not return many favors. Last night, on the way home from the Cafe du Fronde, I preferred to fly than to ride on his shoulder, and I carefully flew to the window rather than accept a skilled and enthusiastic Orren kiss.

Spirshash was rather vehement about losing interest, as Orren go: he wrote a bit of a letter on five separate yilliat leaves, explaining that:

(1) he has come to understand that I find his advances unpalatable;

(2) he is a busy, busy man, having a wife and a husband at the moment;

(3) he is sure that Havune, a gentleman of judgement and renown, would fall into his arms at half a moment's notice;

(4) should I ever wish to enjoy his attentions, I will have to exert myself mightily, or at least ask;

(5) for that matter, he could have Whisli in his bed just by snapping his fingers, and that's more important as Whisli is also Orren;

(6) he wishes to have nothing more to do with me ever again;

(7) I should be careful, lest I wind up spending eternity as a virgin;

(8) it's nothing but a bit of a frivolity, as we are distinctly not the same species;

(9) he hopes to see me tomorrow at Flirtatious Dance class.

And for extra effect, he sprinkled the leaves with roselantern perfume. I don't have a book of Flower Speech handy, but I have a Cani roommate (a gentleman of judgement and renown!). Writing on yilliat leaves, such as might be used for taking notes or performing scratch calculations, indicates a level of disinterest, or a level of penury. Roselantern perfume -- when mixed with a touch of tascernel essence, as this is -- indicates a formal apology between estranged clandestine lovers of the same sex and species. "Or," as Havune says, "that Spirshash doesn't have a book of Flower Speech readily to hand himself."

Now, of course, I have to think of a reply to the cursed thing.

P.S. I did show point (4) above to Havune, anticipating offended laughter. "I hadn't realized I was next on his list." said Havune, "I shall have to take suitable precautions."

Poor Spirshash. I do believe that Havune intends to take a quick sort advantage of him, but to get rid of him before Cani loyalty manifests. Havune phrased this as a kindness to me: he shall run Spirshash through the rapids, and I may either take that as my revenge or comfort the Orren afterwards, my choice. Havune's kindness knows no bounds: certainly no lower bounds.

Back to learning Fresh Meat and contemplating the Theory of Differences!
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