sweeter than honey

Dear Mr. Barlow ( @rhynna ),

Well, this is an odd letter to write.  I assume you’ve been working on my divorce from the missing Peter Bruni, but in meantime, well -- he showed up.  And tried to do some pretty awful things, and in the end, ended up dead from it.  I made sure a copy of the paperwork went to Garenhoff so no one starts that nonsense up again.  I’ll of course reimburse you for any time spent pursuing the divorce.  

Speaking of legal formalities -- I’d like to pursue a formal name change, in both Kryta and Lion’s Arch.  Sod that Helena Bruni, she’s never had anything but bad luck.  How about you help me make Polly West a permanent sort of thing?

He isn’t an impressive man.  He’s Krytan, or at least that’s what the heavily tanned skin and shock of black hair seems to indicate.  He walks with a slight limp, but uses no cane.  Twin swords sit easily in harnesses against his back.  For his height, he’s well muscled.  A laborer, perhaps.  Someone who needs muscle in his work.

The poster hangs crookedly on the outer wall of a Lion’s Arch warehouse. Mold speckles the poster’s formerly bright colors where the damp has soaked through and dried and soaked again.  One splotch of mold covers the shoulder and neck of the singer the poster advertises, but the man knows the woman’s face.  The glossy black of her hair, the slight up-turn of her smile, the curves beneath her clothes.

On their wedding day, she smiled like sunshine even through joyful tears.  She smiled too on the day she tried to murder him.  His feet slid in the wet grass at the waterfall’s edge, his arms pinwheeled, and she smiled, showing teeth, as he fell back into the torrent and pain.

Polly West.  He’d stayed away.  It wasn’t time, not yet.  He wasn’t yet thirty; he had years to bring his plans to fruition.  But here she was, his little songbird.  Polly.  Like a bird, like a chittering parrot.  It fit.  He thought it’d take far longer to find her, but he’s a music-lover.  It’s what they’d talked about when they were young and besotted and she’d conjured up all her wild ideas.  He looks at posters.  He sees her now.

(( I love a challenge! ))

Mavros!

Their first impression:  Aww, cute dog.  Man’s not so bad either.

Their current impression:  Love of my life, doll, and I don’t say that casually.  Love of my life.  

What they like the most about your muse: Lots of men talk.  Talk, talk, brag, blather.  They may say sweet things, they may say ‘love,’ but it’s talk.  Jaws flapping, empty noise.  Mavros – he’s not built to ever tell me he loves me.  But he sure as hell acts like it.  You want to know which one’s more important?  Yeah.

What they dislike the most about your muse:  I’m not telling tales on my man.  What kind of good woman does that?  If I had to say anything, I’d say that I wish he could believe me when I said my own loving words. But that’s just what it is, it’s nothing that can be fixed.

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.):  Fiancee, as of this morning.  Just have to get a divorce first.

A general opinion of their relationship:  Oh, you’ve got no idea what it’s like to be him and me.  I’m a lucky lady.  He’s a lucky man.

If applicable, something they wish to reveal:  The idea of marriage still makes me go weak in the knees in a bad way, but my first marriage was such shit.  I trust Mavros every which way, but gods, I hope I do better this time.

Reese!

Their first impression: Not bad on the eyes.  So this is the man who’s sleeping with my man’s ex.

Their current impression: We only met the once, but I felt bad when Mavros told me Becker left him too.  I thought he had a chance at something good.

What they like the most about your muse:  He fixed my guns without either trying to get my skirts up or talking to me like I was an idiot.

What they dislike the most about your muse:  Even I can’t think of something to harp on after one meeting.  

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.):  A really good gun-smith.  Hopefully shacked up now with someone sweet and kind, who wants to stick around.

A general opinion of their relationship: I’d take my weapons back to him anytime.

Their first impression:  Classy lady.  Red looks good on her.

Their current impression:  You know, she’s a nice one.  Has a sense of humor too, under all those upright manners.  

What they like the most about your muse: She likes animals, or at least she lets them eat up other folks’ carriages.  And she has good taste in vocalists, don’t ever forget that.

What they dislike the most about your muse:  I don’t know her well enough to have any complaints.  Just a nice, pretty noble lady on the lower end of the Roses day-drinking scale.

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.):  I’d say friend. I’d have lunch with her in the Reach. And I’ve seen her drugged and talking about climbing her man like a tree, so I think we’re past ‘acquaintance.’

I don’t know if you remember me from your efforts freeing me from jail in Garenhoff.  I can never forget what you did for me, how you saved me.  Now I have a much easier request, or I hope it’s easier.  It’s sort of tangled, like everything else about my first marriage has been.

I need to gain a divorce.  

Obviously, Peter Bruni is still considered alive, or still missing.  Has he officially ‘deserted’ me, given our time apart?  I’d like to pursue a legal divorce either way.  

I hate to throw myself at your mercy again, but I finally want to move forward from that terrible period of my life in all ways, and as soon as possible. 

If you remember the circumstances of my first marriage, you’ll know why I need this to be done as discreetly as possible, and with no connection to the name I use now.  My safety is in your hands (and I’m willing to pay handsomely for it).

Thank you, Mr. Barlow.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Helena Bruni

Thanks for having Polly “sing” a couple of songs at @lindelaelemonlarkspur‘s party!

I like to give credit where credit is due every time Polly does an IC performance, so here we go!

“In a World of My Own” and “In the Golden Afternoon” are both from the 1951 Disney musical Alice in Wonderland. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtP60NmDKqc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbpBdmXiceM

(( I love this story, actually. ))

On a street corner!  Not like that, shut up.  But Mavros was standing on a corner in Rurikton with his dog Hound at his side, and Polly liked the look of the dog and started talking to her.  The man eventually joined in.  Soon after, Mavros ran into Polly again while she was tipsily walking home from some singing gig.  He accompanied her wobbly, chatty self back to her Commons hovel, and for her, that was it, he was the one she wanted.  He was quiet, did what he said he’d do, didn’t bullshit her, didn’t try to pressure her into bed, and asked her questions about herself. Perfect!

She fell for him like a ton of bricks; it took him longer.  Now there’s no way she could imagine herself with anyone else.