Author's note: I deliberately ignored the "thou" thing, because Cyan's mangled grammar in the game is one of my pet peeves.
My dearest Elayne,
I am very sorry I was unable to see to your burial. As I saw you boarding the train, I can safely assume that you were given the proper rites, but I cannot forgive myself for not doing my duty. My only explanation is that I was not entirely in command of myself at the time. I desired only to have my revenge before the Imperial cowards could withdraw. I am afraid I was unsuccessful, but I did meet a new comrade who has been most helpful. Sir Sabin promises me the chance to help the Returners in their struggle against the Empire. I am grateful for that; I should not like to waste my sword-arm and my knowledge of tactics while the war continues. If I can help to defeat the Empire, it might in some small way count toward avenging the deaths. Your deaths.
Sir Sabin sometimes wants seriousness, but I believe he has a good heart. His cheerful nature has even been a comfort, for he does not like to allow me to brood, as he puts it, and he draws me out of myself at times. You always felt that too much solitude was bad for me; I think you would approve of him as a companion, for the most part. You may have seen him, on the train platform. The tall blond man. The ninja left us shortly thereafter. I was never entirely comfortable with him, but he allowed me to mourn in silence and I believe he encouraged Sir Sabin to do the same. I am grateful for that, as well. I could not have abided being drawn out of myself so very soon.
Now, I am thankful each time it happens. I hope you do not think me disloyal. It is only that I am not certain I can endure to constantly dwell on my loss. Left to myself, I would, but you know me well enough to guess that. It is still difficult to interest myself in anything. I cannot remember when I last noticed the taste of food. Sir Sabin jokes that it saves money on meals, but I believe he is actually going to some expense in an effort at tempting me. I do not believe lobster is cheap, even this close to the sea.
We have gained another companion, a wild boy of about thirteen. I try not to see Owain when I look at him. He is very different from our son, of course. I suspect he has never had a parent's care; I am not at all certain how he learned to speak, or to clothe himself. He may have observed the people of Mobliz from a distance, I suppose. That is really the only explanation. He is a cheerful boy, frustratingly so at times. Someone must teach him decorum, someday, but I haven't the heart. I see this boy playing unrestricted, and I think of the discipline and propriety with which I raised Owain – did I do our boy a disservice?
We are in Nikeah, now. I created an embarrassing scene in a bar earlier – yesterday, I think, as I believe I heard the bells tolling midnight. Sir Sabin wished to make inquiries respecting local events, and I accompanied him to make sure he did not get diverted from his intent. A woman of ill repute approached me, and I rejected her rather too noisily. I believe Sir Sabin was amused. When we returned to the rooms we had rented, we found that Master Gau had jumped on all the beds, knocked a few prints off the walls, damaged the curtains, cracked a mirror, and then curled up peacefully in all the wreckage with a picture-book. On reflection, I do not think we made any mistakes whatever in Owain's upbringing.
Sir Sabin left again, to make more inquiries, he claimed. He was excessively merry when he returned, and when I asked after his investigations his answers were vague in the extreme. While he was gone, I lectured Master Gau about the importance of respecting the property of others and of going outside when one felt the need to roughhouse. I am not certain he listened. I suppose we will have to leave a generous tip for the maid as well as paying for the damage.
I do not know why I write to you of such trivialities. Every time I have tried to write a letter to you, this is the result. I always tore up the others and buried them in the Veldt, because I never felt they were satisfactory. I have given up that pursuit, because I know I will never be able to say quite what I wish to say. I will burn this one. I hope it reaches you.
I miss you, Elayne. I miss your smile. I miss speaking to you. I am sure that is why I write to you of these mundane details, simply that if you were here, I would tell you of them, and you would laugh. And I miss our boy more than I can say. You did say, when I saw you last, that I made you happy. I hope you were not simply trying to assuage my feelings, but even if you were, I am only too grateful.
If I could have reached the train as you boarded, I would have accompanied you.
Always,
Cyan
My dearest Elayne,
I am very sorry I was unable to see to your burial. As I saw you boarding the train, I can safely assume that you were given the proper rites, but I cannot forgive myself for not doing my duty. My only explanation is that I was not entirely in command of myself at the time. I desired only to have my revenge before the Imperial cowards could withdraw. I am afraid I was unsuccessful, but I did meet a new comrade who has been most helpful. Sir Sabin promises me the chance to help the Returners in their struggle against the Empire. I am grateful for that; I should not like to waste my sword-arm and my knowledge of tactics while the war continues. If I can help to defeat the Empire, it might in some small way count toward avenging the deaths. Your deaths.
Sir Sabin sometimes wants seriousness, but I believe he has a good heart. His cheerful nature has even been a comfort, for he does not like to allow me to brood, as he puts it, and he draws me out of myself at times. You always felt that too much solitude was bad for me; I think you would approve of him as a companion, for the most part. You may have seen him, on the train platform. The tall blond man. The ninja left us shortly thereafter. I was never entirely comfortable with him, but he allowed me to mourn in silence and I believe he encouraged Sir Sabin to do the same. I am grateful for that, as well. I could not have abided being drawn out of myself so very soon.
Now, I am thankful each time it happens. I hope you do not think me disloyal. It is only that I am not certain I can endure to constantly dwell on my loss. Left to myself, I would, but you know me well enough to guess that. It is still difficult to interest myself in anything. I cannot remember when I last noticed the taste of food. Sir Sabin jokes that it saves money on meals, but I believe he is actually going to some expense in an effort at tempting me. I do not believe lobster is cheap, even this close to the sea.
We have gained another companion, a wild boy of about thirteen. I try not to see Owain when I look at him. He is very different from our son, of course. I suspect he has never had a parent's care; I am not at all certain how he learned to speak, or to clothe himself. He may have observed the people of Mobliz from a distance, I suppose. That is really the only explanation. He is a cheerful boy, frustratingly so at times. Someone must teach him decorum, someday, but I haven't the heart. I see this boy playing unrestricted, and I think of the discipline and propriety with which I raised Owain – did I do our boy a disservice?
We are in Nikeah, now. I created an embarrassing scene in a bar earlier – yesterday, I think, as I believe I heard the bells tolling midnight. Sir Sabin wished to make inquiries respecting local events, and I accompanied him to make sure he did not get diverted from his intent. A woman of ill repute approached me, and I rejected her rather too noisily. I believe Sir Sabin was amused. When we returned to the rooms we had rented, we found that Master Gau had jumped on all the beds, knocked a few prints off the walls, damaged the curtains, cracked a mirror, and then curled up peacefully in all the wreckage with a picture-book. On reflection, I do not think we made any mistakes whatever in Owain's upbringing.
Sir Sabin left again, to make more inquiries, he claimed. He was excessively merry when he returned, and when I asked after his investigations his answers were vague in the extreme. While he was gone, I lectured Master Gau about the importance of respecting the property of others and of going outside when one felt the need to roughhouse. I am not certain he listened. I suppose we will have to leave a generous tip for the maid as well as paying for the damage.
I do not know why I write to you of such trivialities. Every time I have tried to write a letter to you, this is the result. I always tore up the others and buried them in the Veldt, because I never felt they were satisfactory. I have given up that pursuit, because I know I will never be able to say quite what I wish to say. I will burn this one. I hope it reaches you.
I miss you, Elayne. I miss your smile. I miss speaking to you. I am sure that is why I write to you of these mundane details, simply that if you were here, I would tell you of them, and you would laugh. And I miss our boy more than I can say. You did say, when I saw you last, that I made you happy. I hope you were not simply trying to assuage my feelings, but even if you were, I am only too grateful.
If I could have reached the train as you boarded, I would have accompanied you.
Always,
Cyan