#Letter Sparrow

[blistexenthusiast]

19th century wax seals

[sadly-never-after]

One of my favourite things to think about is adult Duchess and how unbelievably bittersweet she will feel once she has to stop dancing.

The best and luckiest ballet dancers in the world retire around their early 40s (and that’s only if they are very very lucky), with most of them retiring around their late 20s-early 30s.

She would be the first descendent of the swan princess to find herself unable to dance. She would be the first to undergo the chronic pain and muscle cramps that will lead her to abandon her biggest passion. I can’t help but imagine how, even if it will be painful to abandon the art she has perfected throughout her life, it will also be a symbol of longevity, something that will be hers purely. It’s a medal that tells the world “Look at me! I got my happily ever after!”

[iron-sparrow]

駕駛 【 jiàshǐ 】 STEER /stir/ verb

to pursue a course of action

And you appeared ⸺ a ship drifting in the sky.

The hunger in my chest pulls me ever closer. My wings are so tired I can hardly feel them anymore. Do they still exist? Perhaps they've already crumbled to ash, and I am only being steered by this need that grows and grows and grows at the sight of you.

I found an oasis in the clouds ⸺ I found you.

FFXIV 30 DAY WRITING CHALLENGE

[thisisntreaver]

Hi don't mind me just once again thinking about Rose and how seemingly no one other than Sparrow ad those closest to them know shes dead. Like Lucien mudered her, and clearly had it covered up because theres not even a mention of how someone was murdered in the castle that same night he disappeared?? Not even in fairfax where I woul argue that it definitely should because you're telling me all of Luciens staff were just chill with covering up a little girls death? That they didn't spread it like wildfire amoung the nobility?? Like he killed her and she doesn't even have a grave, theres literally no place for Sparrow to visit other than the bee hives that used to be their shack. Rose is just dead, erased, and theres never really any closure about it for Sparrow, they're just forced to live with the fact that they saw their only family shot in front of them.

[aragaki]

In such a big Fable mood and I need to share an idea that just hit me while I’m play 2 and 3

Sparrow keeping Rose’s diary hidden in their room for years. It’s safer in their chambers than in the library and even if it wasn’t, Rose’s words belong THEM. It’s their most precious treasure. Every time they miss their sister and the weight of ruling crushes them they pull it out. The wear on the pages shows just how often they need it and how dearly they miss their older sister.

Then they pass and suddenly their room belongs to Logan. Filled with the ghosts of memories, he remembers when he was little and would sleep with his parent(s) when he had nightmares. Now it’s his and feels so empty. Then he finds a diary that doesn’t belong to his parent and how precious it was to them and the dream his aunt had when his parent was little and had nothing to their name. Logan promises that he’s going to be as devoted to his sibling as Rose was to hers.

Then Logan’s sibling runs away. The world is on a road to ruin and the only family he has left hates him. He can’t imagine if they found his journals they would keep them, he can’t imagine himself being as precious to them as their aunt was to their mother. But still, he continues on. When the revolution is at his doorstep, he keeps Rose’s diary with him. He can’t risk his parent’s treasure being destroyed in the fighting.

And then it changes hands again, now the HoBW has it. And they can only hope to honour Albion the way their parent honoured their sister.

[sparrowsworkshop]

"Alighting the Darkness" by OneWingedSparrow for @dubiiousfood

This is my Loftwing Letter for @dubiiousfood, for the event hosted by @zelinkcommunity ! I hope you like this TP Zelink fluff! <3 Main Tags: Twilight Princess, Post-Canon, Married Zelink, Fluff without Plot Summary: Following the events of the Twilight, Zelda comes to realize how Link places light wherever she needs it. Read on AO3 Reblogs are appreciated! ~ The populace of Hyrule could perhaps say that they knew a “time before Twilight, and the two times thereafter.” Though most Hyruleans had been unknowingly turned to spirits during the curse over the kingdom, and, were therefore oblivious to the atrocities committed by the Usurper King Zant, they were nevertheless aware enough that, in the past, there had first been a time of grim foreboding; then, a time of great fear; and at last, a grand time where the great fear was graciously extinguished.

Queen Zelda, however, dwelt upon a different timeline. The time before Twilight, and the two times thereafter, mattered not nearly so much as these:

The time before Link, and all time thereafter.

~

She saw her Hero first in his accursed form of a blue-eyed beast; and, even in the darkness cast over the castle, everything about the wolf before her seemed to gleam. The iron shackle clinging to his leg, the grinning fangs escorting his growl, even the artful patterns streaking his dark fur with a lighter shade. A snarling predator stalking into her chamber should not have been a source of encouragement, but Zelda could sense the spirit within the flesh, and her weary eyes smiled faintly under her hood as she watched him stride towards her.

You are the light, she told him within her mind, as she removed her hood and his growling instantly ceased. The foretold, sacred light Hyrule desperately needs.

She beheld in him the Hero chosen by the gods. She foresaw in him the Hero destined to bring Hyrule back into the light, as a careful goatherd would direct his flock out of the storm and safely into shelter. In spite of her gifted Wisdom, however, she did not perceive in him the Hero chosen to guideherback into light as well. Such an epiphany revealed itself only during their future marriage.

~

Rebuilding the castle was a lengthy endeavor. While the structure was not demolished entirely, the brutal clash between Midna’s Fused Shadows and the demon beast Ganon left several stones unthroned. While the construction crews travailed the necessary renovations, the queen and her fiancé spent much time outdoors, in the quiet courtyards where pink and yellow flowers still dared to bloom, ever defiant towards the evil that once shadowed them.

Verily, Zelda might have found superior productivity in her study, where her paperwork was not at risk of being spied on by scouting ants or swept away by the teasing breeze. Even so, she chose to eschew her old habits. Her productivity might have lessened outdoors, but her motivation only increased. After all, how could she not be delighted by the golden-bodied beetles Link presented to her with a flourish, or the merry tunes he played for her on whistlegrass when no one else remained in earshot?

In the courtyard, with his subordinates standing vigil, Link never needed to be on constant guard, to uphold his duty as her appointed protector first and foremost. When they would travel Hyrule, of course, checking in on each province, he shouldered his responsibility with grave focus, standing tall as both the Hero of Twilight and the Captain of the Hylian Knights. But here, under the oak trees and the dappled sunlight, where the windchimes laughed and the stepstones wandered—here, as the beetles spread their wings and buzzed away from his open palms, and the blithe melody of the grass summoned a hawk to cheer a chorus—here, with her, he could be simply Link, grinning and teasing to make her smile even while she worked. It felt quite like a forgotten childhood come back to greet them, Zelda thought, or perhaps a bright tomorrow welcoming them anew.

~

A castle is a fortress first, a sanctuary second, and a home last of all. The larger a window, the more accessible an invader’s point of entry. Thus, many long corridors were illuminated only by braziers, their warmth spaced apart by the ghostly fingers of drafts ever haunting the stone walls. Over her lifetime, Zelda’s eyes grew accustomed to the enclosed dim; Link, however, had a newcomer’s keen eye for all improvements that could be made.

“It’s dark in here,” he said once of their bedchamber, as he scrutinized the curtains and ran his hand over the thick, embroidered fabric. “Does the brown color please you?” “It keeps out the sun,” Zelda replied, but her words suddenly sounded strange. She wrinkled her brow, and, stepping next to Link, reached out, tugging the two curtains away from each other. The day was overcast, but a grayish glow whispered into the room, gracing their boots with a shy, soft brightness.

She glanced at her husband. “How do you feel about ivory?”

~

From that moment onward, Link’s transformations of Zelda’s once dark world became all the more apparent. For the first time, she noticed the multiplication of candles around their dining table—most of them scented cheerfully with pumpkin, transported all the way from Beth’s Sundry. She counted the vases of bright-colored flowers strategically positioned around the Great Hall, like devoted soldiers standing at attention, and knew only one person who would trek so far into the forest to collect such particular, elusive species.

Her favorite of his transformations, however, was when Link commissioned the court artists to paint not a portrait of himself, as most royals would, but rather, a mural of the pastures of Ordona. The grass in the painting practically dripped with morning dew, and the circular horns of the goats glittered like fairy wings; a brilliant dawn broke through the dark woods beyond the flock, and spilling sunshine over the tranquil field.

That vision alone would have rendered the painting wonderful; but Link’s directions went further, and the artists happily delivered.

In the foreground stood a figure, facing the dawning sun—black cloak slipping from her shoulders, while the wind swept through her hair.

“Do you like it?” Link whispered in her ear, the day his surprise was revealed.

Only one thing would I change, she thought at first. Where are you in this lovely story?

Yet, when she turned towards him to ask, fierce, bright blue eyes caught hers, and she saw for a moment in him the wolf who once brought Courage to her gloom.

Enlightened, Zelda smiled.

“Of course,” she said, and cupped his face in her hands, to lose herself in his gaze just as the woman in the painting lost herself in the powerful sun.

You are the light...my light...as always.

~

[brainman1987]

Okay I was going to draw more but like. Can’t hold back. The autism is just too strong. (Small explanation under cut!)

This is a very small modification of the professor Layton games where back in Stansbury is two old gay blokes who teach at the academy. Simon Antebellum is an art teacher notorious for not taking work if „you don’t put enough heart into it“, even if technically the art is exactly what he asked for. In this Modified version of the professor Layton world, Hershel actually takes a liking to art! He’s more into abstract or still lives, but he loves working with pens and ink in general. Simon is very impressed by all his pieces because Hershel uses art as a way to express emotions he can’t put into words. They like to chat about whatever really, and Simon helps him realize much earlier in his life that he is bisexual, and that is perfectly fine! When Hershel is in the academy he’s like in his early thirties as some clarification.

Simon lives with his best friend (husband) Jayus Sparrow, a lively young man who is the assistant for the band teacher! He also helps out with math classes, and is generally just a really cool substitute to have. Jayus takes a liking to Randall for his rambunctious spirit and allows Randall to goof off mostly whenever he substitutes, for as long as he finishes his work at the end of class. Jayus is really into music in general and loves being the substitute for the band as much as he can. It’s a common joke among students to say that Mr. Sparrow is the actual band teacher while their real teacher is just a substitute. If your confident in his eyes Jayus tends to like you more because he thinks that confidence is the most important aspect of becoming a good person.

The two have been sweethearts since they were born as they like to joke, and have been living together for years. I’m trying to decide if they should have a child or not, but I’m thinking they likely have a couple pets or at least give out sweets or small pastries to the kids on their block. They also leave chalk out for kids who want to draw out on the sidewalk. Simon every year paints a big painting of his art classes that year, and Jayus always does his best to give out cupcakes on the last day of school to anyone who wants one. Jayus is a pretty good baker, but his actual specialty is cooking! I could go on but you get the point I think. Anyways I love these old blokes and I hope you do too kasjfadk

[cupcake-complains]

I need more Sparrow content right now actually. I can not wait. I need more of him.

[dolphin1812]

As @cliozaur has pointed out, Mme Burgon and her investigations mark another instance of a woman being portrayed as curious in a negative way. Here, she doesn't really seem dangerous; it seems like this is supposed to be comical, as she can't keep up with him and is rather cruelly compared to a hippo.

Marius' behavior is hilarious, though. I understand why the portress is suspicious of him (even if having a reason for suspicions doesn't excuse following or spying; Valjean behaves pretty oddly, too, but that doesn't justify surveilling him). He is being really strange, even to himself. He acts "without knowing why," so if he doesn't understand his own motives, it's not surprising he startles those around him.

This paragraph is also wonderful: "The young girl was there with M. Leblanc. Marius approached as near as he could, pretending to be busy reading a book, but he halted afar off, then returned and seated himself on his bench, where he spent four hours in watching the house-sparrows who were skipping about the walk, and who produced on him the impression that they were making sport of him."

I love that Marius is too awkward to actually approach and also thinks that the birds are mocking him. He really deserves more self-esteem, but he's so dramatic in how long he spends doing this, too (he watches them for four hours! That's a long time).

Unfortunately, though, we end with the knowledge that there's something "melancholy" in "Mlle Lanoire's" gaze. Her smile remains happy, but she's no longer definitely content like she was before.

[letters2fiction]

Hello! Could I please request a letter from captain jack???

Maybe the context is that I sailed away making my own name with a faint promise of meeting again but the time passed and there’s no word only whispers of what I’ve become?

Ik it’s too dramatic jajajaja if u need a name it can be Vash or Val

Also question have you seen the mentalist??? It’s a super good show ,totally recommend

Val,

Hello matey, where the hell are ya?! You said you'd come back and tell me about your quest for self-discovery or whatever it was you were doing after leaving my crew.

Then I find out from some random "pirate" what you have been up to? I should have you thrown overboard for that!

Anyways, send a respond as soon as possible or I'm gonna have to get some of your "friends" to come look for you.

-Captain Jack Sparrow

[spotsupstuff]

Would Zephyr be proud of that if she was there?

I don't think you said it but it is more implied, but did Zephyr collapse before she could get off the string Tarrow version? Is she truly gone?

HEEHEE >:3ccc

yes! indeed! Zephyr has collapsed before the off-stringing. she's down for like... 20 or 30 years or so before that whole fuckery takes place. BUT

WELL

nothing truly dies, especially when it is an Iterator, ain't that right? and what do we have here? a Mechanic? an Iterator who used to create puppets? an Iterator who used to manufacture parts for over 5000 years that he knows like all recipes by heart now, a medic? well isn't That useful, wonder where all that could find its use

[honeysunisle]

Sparrow’s Shack - Interiors

[devinwolfi]

bbc sherlock never had a character send package/letter from the past at just the perfect time and that's one of the many reasons why it is the worst part of superwholock

[iron-sparrow]

暴風 【 bàofēng 】 TEMPEST /tem·​pest/ noun

a violent storm

How beautiful you are, my passion made flesh. When we are together, I can't resist pressing my fingers into your skin and searching it for fresh chasms marking the time we were apart. When I'm away from you, I dream of the scars rippling over the pale dunes of your body — how they wrinkle and swell with your gentle breaths.

I want to dig my fingers into them just to hear what sounds you'll make.

I'll always stop when your hand touches mine, but then you look at me, and I am utterly consumed by the storm trapped in the marbles of your eyes. Violently you plead, like you are desperate to feel me on you.

I draw this tempest from your mouth and swallow it whole. Tell me when to stop — because my hunger never will.

FFXIV 30 DAY WRITING CHALLENGE

[thisisntreaver]

That guy gave rose a letter to give to his girlfriend, with the assumption that she'll be the only one to know what he wrote, and before you're even out of his eyesight or earshot shes ripping into him and his writing skills and i think that's SO fucking funny

[cassynite]

"Happy Valentines day, Sparrow and Daeran!

I know we don't know each other terribly well yet, but you are Daeran's chosen partner and so I must send my congratulations - and also extend this as an invitation to get to know you better! I hope he hasn't been as difficult for you as he was for me. Gods knows what kind of pain in the ass he was during the Crusade for me, but he has also been one of my closest and most sincere friends now that this whole mess is over.

I also don't know what he has said about me in response but...! I promise I am not nearly as terrifying and "Hellknighty" as he suggests (only when he pisses me off, which, to be fair, was pretty often). Dae is a wonderful friend to me an I am quite offended he hasn't formally introduced us yet! I had to learn about you second hand from Woljif of all people, gods.

I understand we're both from Cheliax, is that right? Or at least you spent a good amount of time there growing up. Westcrown too, right? I've sent along a few things from the homeland that hopefully give you good memories instead of bad. I know how terrible things are back home right now, but hopefully there is a brighter dawn sooner rather than later. These treats are Wiscrani through and through and I hope they find you well. I grew up there when it was still the capital and these haven't changed in over a century! They're just as nostalgic as when I used to swipe them from the stalls as little street orphan. I'm not sure if Daeran has ever had them but I think he'll like them too! Please enjoy them with this limoncello I've sent from the area, too.

I also heard you've spent quite a lot of time in the Chelaxian courts? I'm sorely out of practice - they used to be my hunting grounds when I was just a fresh Scourge knight after the war - maybe we can meet up for some drinks (your choice on alcoholic or not) and talk about the latest trends? I'm in need of a primer if I want to settle back into my old habits. Or at the very least, we can trade our best war stories about the courts. I have one about the time I sent a young Thrune cousin sprawling across the floors after he tripped on my tail. I have a feeling you'd like that one.

I hope you two have a wonderful Valentine's day! Even Daeran, who has been so rude and a terrible friend as of late (I know you're reading this!)

-Warm regards, Minovae"

Sparrow stared at the letter in the foyer.

It had been a highly diverting day, occupied with a boat ride down the Sellen and an evening dinner. Daeran had secured a group of Desnan singers who performed with no instruments, instead using their own vocals to mimic the sound of fully accompanied music to dramatic effect. Sparrow was still thinking of the sound when she returned home and saw the delivery waiting on the table--the letter, addressed to her and Daeran, along with a brightly wrapped box that tugged at Sparrow's memory in a way she could not place, and a bottle of sunshiny liqueur.

"Daeran," she called, gathering the items and moving to their rooms. "Were you expecting correspondence from anyone?"

"I am always expecting correspondence, darling. Consider just how popular I am among the bored elite," Daeran said, which Sparrow took as a 'no.' He had already begun to undress for the day, and she felt the heat of his body as he sidled up behind her. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and tilted the envelope to read the address. "I recognize the handwriting. It seems Minovae wrote."

"Minovae?"

"I've spoken to you about her before," Daeran said, amused. He took the box and the bottle from Sparrow. "I distinctly recall bringing her up after we had finished repaving those endless paths around the lake, when we discussed who we might be inviting by."

The name did seem familiar, though Sparrow was embarrassed to realize she couldn't place it. She broke the seal and pulled out the letter, reading through the clear, confident script. "Ah. The field maralictor."

"Minovae," Daeran corrected. "She usually doesn't bite people's heads off for using her first name. Unless you annoy her, which I doubt you'd have accomplished before now since she didn't know you existed."

Daeran had told her of the woman before. He had even made the same comment about it being fine to refer to her by her given name when he brought up the possibility of meeting and making acquaintance.

Sparrow hadn't believed him. She had heard "Hellknight from Cheliax," and then "married to our old friend Regill," and she'd immediately created the person in her head that she felt would fit those descriptors. It had not been someone she was terribly eager to meet, and though she hadn't said anything of the sort, Daeran hadn't brought up the subject again.

The voice behind the letter did not match the person Sparrow had imagined. The person who wrote this seemed excited, had asked to meet, had called Daeran a dear friend even as she called him a pain in the ass. Minovae reminded Sparrow more of Seelah than Derenge. She seemed kind, and hopeful, but clearly also loved her country and her duties to the Order.

A dissonance, Sparrow would have called it. Or a lie. But what would be the purpose? Why would Daeran think of her as a friend if she were anything other than what Sparrow was seeing in this letter?

We are more than the places we come from. Sparrow had said that once, in defense of her own time in Cheliax, back when people thought she was Lady Evaethi Arvanxi. People were more than their land, and land was more than its bad history, its bad rulers.

And yet here she had been, doing what she had so resented of others doing to her--placing the burdens of her grief with her homeland onto someone else she'd never met and pressing a person down into a single experience. She didn't know Minovae. And from what she was seeing by this letter, and the lovely gifts, Minovae was someone she might want to know. Someone she might be friends with if she was brave enough.

Sparrow had so few memories of Westcrown that were positive in any way, and none that were not tinged with the soul-crushing hopelessness that came with being a tool to be used as needed and discarded when done, captive with no escape in sight. But Cheliax was more than those memories, more than her slavery. It had a different past, and hopefully a different future, one she barely knew of and had deliberately ignored; to her, it had only been a place to escape.

And apparently it boasted the sweets Daeran was unwrapping, fruit tarts and soft fresh-looking pound cake and dark chocolates cupped in filmy white wrapping. Sparrow had seen the packaging before when she had roamed the streets of Cheliax's former capital with Evaethi; she was reasonably sure she'd walked by the very patisserie these were made. She had never once tried any of these things.

Her throat tightened, and she abruptly felt ashamed. She looked back down at the letter, at the cheerful introduction of someone Daeran had told her of over six months ago. "I'll write back. Perhaps we can arrange a time to formally meet."

Sparrow should also send gifts; it would be appropriate. Sweets? Regill never seemed to care for such things. Would it also be seen as tired, since that was what they had received? Perhaps there was something of interest in her library she could obtain a copy for--or were books also boring? Maybe--

The letter was pulled from her hands, and Daeran folded the contents away in the envelope. "Not tonight, you won't."

Sparrow reached for the letter and scowled when Daeran stepped away. "It would be rude not to respond as soon as possible."

"Dearest, I have seen you pen correspondence to individuals who make you nervous for no discernible reason. You'll take days to write 'yes, let's meet and get to know each other' in a register so formal my cousin would find it excessive in high court, and then fret about the entire ordeal until you receive a response. That stress can wait until tomorrow--our day together is not yet over and I would like to enjoy the rest of it with you."

"I--" Sparrow sighed and stepped back. "I should still start tonight."

"Or," Daeran opens the box and takes out a piece of chocolate, "we could try the confectioneries that were so generously provided for us and enjoy the rest of the holiday. If you have an opinion on the sweets, you can even put it in the letter, which is practically beginning to write back anyways. Here, tell me what you think."

Sparrow held out her hand, but Daeran stepped close again and pressed the chocolate to her lips. She rolled her eyes, but opened up and let him pop it into her mouth--she inhaled sharply when she bit down and the bittersweet notes of the chocolate melded with the hidden fruit filling. "Oh, that is lovely."

"Is it? Let me try." Daeran swooped down and kissed her, pressing her mouth open and tasting the sugar on her tongue. Sparrow mind went white-blank and fuzzy at the edges. Pulling back, he smiled at her slightly vacant expression. "I agree, very sweet."

"It wasn't that sweet actually," Sparrow said, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

"Really? My mistake. Let's try again with the rest of the gifts. I would very much like to sample that limoncello."

#

[A letter written on thick paper in a formal, though exceedingly correct and simple script.]

"Greetings and Happy belated Valentine's Day, Field-Maralictor Aur Minovae.

(First, please let me know if you are comfortable with informal address. Daeran insists that you would not care, but I would not wish to be overfamiliar.) This letter was a surprise, but a very welcome one.

Your letter, and your gifts, arrived in good condition, to Daeran's particular delight.  He mentioned that you both had not corresponded in some time and had expressed regret at that fact. Woljif had not mentioned he was traveling south, or Daeran would have reached out before now; he stated he will rectify this issue "as soon as, and in the most surprising way, possible for the dear Paralictor's health." Please interpret this in the worst way possible and prepare accordingly.

I myself have been rather busy with the educational program I am hoping to have fully institutionalized by next year in Drezen, but that is not an excuse. Daeran spoke very highly of your leadership prowess (he insisted I inform you that he called you "very boring most of the time" and "incredibly frightening to your enemies" which I interpreted to mean you were more than competent in your past and present duties--not that Paralictor Derenge would have found a partner in anyone less). He also had spoken of setting up an arrangement to meet, something I had been too busy to look at fully. I do apologize for that oversight.

Your letter was an incredibly kind gesture, especially considering we had not been in touch before now. Thank you again for your correspondence. I would be honored, if you were still amenable, to meeting face-to-face.

I do not think I would be able to return to Cheliax in the near future, but if you were planning on traveling north perhaps we could arrange to meet in Mendev? The renovations at Heaven's Edge are nearly complete and would be open to supporting guests, if you would like, and Drezen of course has open doors for travelers. Fye, of the Half-Measure Tavern, mentions you fondly, and I still try to support his business when I can, so we could meet there if that sounds feasible. If that is too far of a trip for you, Daeran has made comments about traveling to the River Kingdoms recently, and I have been hoping to make time to go to Andoran within the year to visit Sosiel. Perhaps we could arrange for a rendezvous at a halfway point.

I do not know if I would be very helpful, but I could certainly speak on the Cheliaxian Court with you as it was before I left several years ago. I'm sure you know that House Arvanxi has fallen into decline in the past century, so my presence had never been required for high social events, but I might be able to offer some advice. In return I would like to learn more about the Cheliax of your youth. It would be nice, to learn more about what the nation used to be like, and what it could be again one day.

And thank you again, formally, for the gifts. Daeran had not sampled any of the delicacies you provided before, and had insisted we share them together, which was a very lovely experience. I was partial to the dark chocolate, myself. I do not know if you ever found yourself partial to the desserts common in Mendev, but a new shop specializing in baked sweets opened recently in Drezen that I've become fond of. I've provided some samples with this letter.

For the Paralictor, who I recall did not like sweets overmuch, I've provided a copy of Indarah's latest volume on her historical examination of the Last War of Jistka. There is a chapter on military tactics used during Osirion's final push to victory that I believe he might find particularly interesting; I've marked the passage for him.

Both Daeran and I hope your Valentine's Day was as fulfilling and happy as you helped make ours. I know Paralictor Derenge needs to be pulled away from his work at times, but hopefully you managed without too much trouble. I look forward to speaking with you, and meeting with you, soon.

Best wishes,

Sparrow and Daeran Arendae