seol_plumfall: (empty)


To that depraved, eccentric, and thoroughly silly rune-dilettante, Ellysse:


Good to hear that neither you nor I have been crisped by the marauding black dragonflight as of yet; I wouldn't want to be deprived of my favorite target for potshots and inappropriate propositions. I suppose that if you're out of the Wetlands the greater threat is now your following a ley line right off a cliff or wading into a tar pit after something shiny. It's no wonder that humans reproduce so fast -- got to replace all those adults lost to their own stupidity.


Don't try to set yourself apart from those types, o green city girl who chooses as her first adventure a two-man romp through hostile wilderness during the winter months. Although I suppose that if you perish somewhere in the snowy mountains of Quel'thalas I'd be able to track down your body and raise it as a ghoul (and thereby make you more useful and companionable to me than you have ever been!) I really don't have the time, inclination, or cleated climbing boots to do so. And, furthermore, my current Fluffykins is an excellent assistant, and a lumbering, brain-sucking undead Ellysse would probably be a step down in quality.


And so unless you elect to mail yourself to Acherus to spare me the trek, I'd recommend you take appropriate precautions against an early icy end. I've enclosed some help with that, as I doubt you are competent enough to locate some by yourself, though if you prefer the first option you should find enough coins enclosed to cover the postage. Unless you've gained considerably since I saw you last, in which case: you're fat.


With love and holiday cheer,
A.D.


[enclosed, a somewhat clumsily-knitted but still-warm blanket.]




seol_plumfall: (empty)



Ellysse:


I'm sorry for          I hope you're not angry at me     mad at me for saying nasty   all in a snit for telling you like it is because that isn't what my Ellysse is like.

Anyway, I hope you had a fun Hallow's End down there in the south. Just in case you didn't get anything at all, like a friendless, rank old cat lady except without the cats, here's a trick and a treat for you.


Write soon,
A.D.




[enclosed, a flipbook depicting Amirael engaged in a lewd and nasty -- to a comically exaggerated degree -- striptease, discoloration and rot rendered in unflatteringly photorealistic detail. Thankfully, when the pants come off, a knobby, floating pickle obscures the worst of it from view.

And in a box beneath it, a 'necklace' made of delicate, glass-like candy beads.]






September 2011

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