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Sir Amostia, I have something for you. It's... not exactly something I'd deem worthy of shipping in a package, but it's from Ma. I'm unsure why she wanted me to give you this, but I was told to say it was from me. (Inside a decently sized box, big enough to have to be held with two hands, lies a party popper. It has reflective rainbow confetti on the inside. How festive.) [askmrpostman]
@askmrpostman
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I have to ask you, as my presumed source of person; who started the chain of events that brought me into existence? And if you know, could you direct them to me? I need to know how much blood someone can lose before dying from a first-hand experience. [askmrpostman]
If you're talking about your existence as whatever you are now , @askmrpostman , then you should probably direct your anger toward this guy. Or better yet, your master.
Postman is holding a small envelope. There is a paper inside, folded neatly to fit inside it's packaging. The only thing that it reads is "Bitch." in big, bold handwriting. There is a drawing of a winking face by the side of it, signed by Ma. "Just know these are her words, not mine." [askmrpostman]
Seth carefully grabs the envelope, tracing the folded lines lightly with his fingertips before delicately sliding them underneath the crease to open it up and retrieve the paper.
...
Upon reading through it — Which took no time. At all. — the man’s already passive face somehow took on an even blanker expression, every ounce of any possible emotion he’d ever harbored draining from at the sight of the crude word.
...
“Bitch, hm?” He inquires, glancing down at the hidden girl. “She does know that I’ve been called worse, no? This feels like the weak glide of water droplet down the petal of a dead flower— like nothing at all.”
...
Now, no harm meant to the little postal girl, but...
...To the Witch, all harm meant.
—Try harder next time, Aleph.
You’re failing miserably.
Make the bitch cry for once.
