Mutiny - Letters - Clarence 01
Sep. 28th, 2019 08:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lady_mabThe Lord Ean de Gillis
℅ The Arcadian Titan
My dear Ean,
Each time I write “care of” I do always hope that the Titan is taking care of you. She must be, or else Sebastian and Noah would not keep sending you away from me.
Ah, perhaps that was a bit jealous on my part. It does me no good to hold spite for a boat. Though if you must know, I do hold her a bit responsible for your consistent absence from court (and my side, and my bed).
It has been not but a week since you have left, and I am writing a letter now instead of later because I am bored and shirking my duties in a way that would leave even Rhea proud of me. (Do not tell Noah, she thinks I am hard at study on the politics of the Lemurian-Agarthan treaties of some fifty years ago, but by your spirits of the winds, I do not have the head for politics. I still think she gave me this title as some form of a long-standing prank that I will not live to see the end of, if only because she will resolve to stubbornly live far longer than me just out of pure spite.)
So perhaps I'll just hunch over my desk so that if she happens to wander into my office (in a fit of avoiding her own duties, you know how she is), it will look like I am busy, and she will be shamed into going back to her own work.
(The chances of this working are very slim. She will be able to read my deception all over my face.)
I don't remember if I mentioned this to you during your time back with us at court, but she wishes for me petition the Lemurian heads of state again for recognition of Carneath. I've told her time and again that we haven’t been viewed as a Lemurian state for... well... ages. I don't know how long. Longer than the war, longer than King Rupert (may the spirits bless him and guide him) had been alive.
Carneath has never known magic, that I know. Or else I don't think they would have treated Rhea so strangely. Carneath does not know what it means to be Spirit touched. They don't understand the ways of the people it has sprouted from, and that is what I worry about.
I know that Noah thinks, in gifting me the title and 'ownership' (as much as I loathe the word in this context) of Carneath, that they will be more likely to admit us to council. A Lemurian on the seat? Surely, they will listen to me then.
The truth is, to them, I am little more than a man masquerading at their culture. Despite the fact that I have been raised with my Lemurian roots strong, they hear my accent and they see my clothes and they know. They know. But I will try, because it is Noah who asked this of me, and I cannot say no.
So I am to petition Lemuria again. I will draft many letters to many heads of state, and many people beneath those heads of state, and I will write until all the ink in Albion shall stain my fingers.
I will not think of how last time I tried, they told me to find us a purpose. Because repairing the rift between Carneath and Lemuria and Albion will not be enough of a purpose.
But we have no matron to guide us. We have no spirits of our own. Whoever it is who once watched over us left, and took our name with it. Now we are Carneath, and our blood is diluted with that of the softness of Albion.
It is rude of me to say. It is rude of them to still hold such a claim.
Albion has made many lengths to repair past grievances. And yet this is one that I cling to. It is one that has been made mine, who am not quite Lemurian, not quite Albian.
I apologize, this has been a dreadful first letter. Good thing you won’t receive it alone, and you will receive it with many others that I will send. So you can see this one and do that little half-laugh that you do. And you will look at the letter and say, Then go grab yourself a goddess, then they will accept you.
What an Antillan way of thinking. Is that why you all moved to the skies? You found no more challenge on the earth, and decided to harness the winds to take you closer to the boundless future. I mean this in the best way possible, do not let my previous grumbling color the way I phrase this.
The brightness in your gaze gives me the strength I need.
Perhaps I will petition a goddess. And I will ask her nicely: Return our name to Carneath. Return our blood to our people.
And then we, too, will rise to the skies.
Ilaka na ashfi-al,
Clarence
℅ The Arcadian Titan
My dear Ean,
Each time I write “care of” I do always hope that the Titan is taking care of you. She must be, or else Sebastian and Noah would not keep sending you away from me.
Ah, perhaps that was a bit jealous on my part. It does me no good to hold spite for a boat. Though if you must know, I do hold her a bit responsible for your consistent absence from court (and my side, and my bed).
It has been not but a week since you have left, and I am writing a letter now instead of later because I am bored and shirking my duties in a way that would leave even Rhea proud of me. (Do not tell Noah, she thinks I am hard at study on the politics of the Lemurian-Agarthan treaties of some fifty years ago, but by your spirits of the winds, I do not have the head for politics. I still think she gave me this title as some form of a long-standing prank that I will not live to see the end of, if only because she will resolve to stubbornly live far longer than me just out of pure spite.)
So perhaps I'll just hunch over my desk so that if she happens to wander into my office (in a fit of avoiding her own duties, you know how she is), it will look like I am busy, and she will be shamed into going back to her own work.
(The chances of this working are very slim. She will be able to read my deception all over my face.)
I don't remember if I mentioned this to you during your time back with us at court, but she wishes for me petition the Lemurian heads of state again for recognition of Carneath. I've told her time and again that we haven’t been viewed as a Lemurian state for... well... ages. I don't know how long. Longer than the war, longer than King Rupert (may the spirits bless him and guide him) had been alive.
Carneath has never known magic, that I know. Or else I don't think they would have treated Rhea so strangely. Carneath does not know what it means to be Spirit touched. They don't understand the ways of the people it has sprouted from, and that is what I worry about.
I know that Noah thinks, in gifting me the title and 'ownership' (as much as I loathe the word in this context) of Carneath, that they will be more likely to admit us to council. A Lemurian on the seat? Surely, they will listen to me then.
The truth is, to them, I am little more than a man masquerading at their culture. Despite the fact that I have been raised with my Lemurian roots strong, they hear my accent and they see my clothes and they know. They know. But I will try, because it is Noah who asked this of me, and I cannot say no.
So I am to petition Lemuria again. I will draft many letters to many heads of state, and many people beneath those heads of state, and I will write until all the ink in Albion shall stain my fingers.
I will not think of how last time I tried, they told me to find us a purpose. Because repairing the rift between Carneath and Lemuria and Albion will not be enough of a purpose.
But we have no matron to guide us. We have no spirits of our own. Whoever it is who once watched over us left, and took our name with it. Now we are Carneath, and our blood is diluted with that of the softness of Albion.
It is rude of me to say. It is rude of them to still hold such a claim.
Albion has made many lengths to repair past grievances. And yet this is one that I cling to. It is one that has been made mine, who am not quite Lemurian, not quite Albian.
I apologize, this has been a dreadful first letter. Good thing you won’t receive it alone, and you will receive it with many others that I will send. So you can see this one and do that little half-laugh that you do. And you will look at the letter and say, Then go grab yourself a goddess, then they will accept you.
What an Antillan way of thinking. Is that why you all moved to the skies? You found no more challenge on the earth, and decided to harness the winds to take you closer to the boundless future. I mean this in the best way possible, do not let my previous grumbling color the way I phrase this.
The brightness in your gaze gives me the strength I need.
Perhaps I will petition a goddess. And I will ask her nicely: Return our name to Carneath. Return our blood to our people.
And then we, too, will rise to the skies.
Ilaka na ashfi-al,
Clarence
