- Messages
- 67
- Character Biography
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It was too early in the morning for her grandfather to have awoken. Typically, Gracia knew, older folk woke with the rise of the sun and slept at the set of it. Mahab von Stehlen was a different kind of man. He was the kind that woke when he pleased, though never too late into the day. Never past noon. Gracia was partial to sleeping in past noon of the days she could afford it and felt bored enough to do so. Particularly after nights of pleasure did she find long sleeps amenable.
The courier had brought a letter that morning. It was addressed to her. Gracia von Stehlen was written out in crocheted letters, large and imperfect. Gracia ran through the list of associates in her mind who might possibly own this handwriting and could only narrow down its dramatics to a man. Perhaps Allirian. She didn't waste time thinking on it. She plopped herself into her favorite armchair and raked the flap open with a letter-knife.
Dear Gracia,
I thought I might bring it to your attention that I spotted the other day -- that being a month before this letter reaches you, if my approximations are sure -- a nun of the Sacred Sun in the Allirian city center. I know, as we discussed during our previous meeting (which I found so evocative) that the dealings of the Sacred Sun is much more your grandfather's interest, but I couldn't help letting you know first what has happened and let you decide how to break the news to your grandfather, if you at all choose to.
I followed this nun -- how strangely she was dressed in her navy headdress -- to a rather destitute little shop in the port. It was owned by a robed man smelling of salt and fish. Clearly the shop dealt with rare items, possibly magical ones. The nun was upset and intrigued by the man's collection. I overheard their conversation.
The nun asked about a mask that she'd misplaced, though the situation seemed much more important than I am making it out to be. The nun was not only furious, but afraid. The man didn't seem phased much by her demeanor. This mask, from what I've overheard, is not simply important to the Church of the Sacred Sun. It is a means of strength. The man, though he knew not the whereabouts of this mask, told the nun of other merchants she may be able to talk to. Unfortunately, a stranger caught me lurking outside the man's shop and rather loudly asked my business. I had to leave before I could hear the names he spoke.
I tell you this just so you can do what you wish with the information. Perhaps you've already heard of this mask.
I hope to see you again soon.
Your confidant,
Gavin Teller
The courier had brought a letter that morning. It was addressed to her. Gracia von Stehlen was written out in crocheted letters, large and imperfect. Gracia ran through the list of associates in her mind who might possibly own this handwriting and could only narrow down its dramatics to a man. Perhaps Allirian. She didn't waste time thinking on it. She plopped herself into her favorite armchair and raked the flap open with a letter-knife.
Dear Gracia,
I thought I might bring it to your attention that I spotted the other day -- that being a month before this letter reaches you, if my approximations are sure -- a nun of the Sacred Sun in the Allirian city center. I know, as we discussed during our previous meeting (which I found so evocative) that the dealings of the Sacred Sun is much more your grandfather's interest, but I couldn't help letting you know first what has happened and let you decide how to break the news to your grandfather, if you at all choose to.
I followed this nun -- how strangely she was dressed in her navy headdress -- to a rather destitute little shop in the port. It was owned by a robed man smelling of salt and fish. Clearly the shop dealt with rare items, possibly magical ones. The nun was upset and intrigued by the man's collection. I overheard their conversation.
The nun asked about a mask that she'd misplaced, though the situation seemed much more important than I am making it out to be. The nun was not only furious, but afraid. The man didn't seem phased much by her demeanor. This mask, from what I've overheard, is not simply important to the Church of the Sacred Sun. It is a means of strength. The man, though he knew not the whereabouts of this mask, told the nun of other merchants she may be able to talk to. Unfortunately, a stranger caught me lurking outside the man's shop and rather loudly asked my business. I had to leave before I could hear the names he spoke.
I tell you this just so you can do what you wish with the information. Perhaps you've already heard of this mask.
I hope to see you again soon.
Your confidant,
Gavin Teller
