Repost and transcription: Raistlin's letter (Margaret Weis, Jan. 1984)
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Repost and transcription: Raistlin's letter (Margaret Weis, Jan. 1984)
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This letter from Raistlin to Caramon was written by Margaret Weis in January 1984 and re-discovered in April or May 2023. The poem Raistlin's Farewell at the end of Spring Dawning is clearly a rewording of it, with some differences that may have to do with retcons (edit: yeah, definitely the retcons. Edit 2: oh my god this has been saying Autumn Twilight instead of Spring Dawning for months).
In Time of the Twins, Tika tells Tanis about something that happened to Caramon, she didn't know what but it had something to do with Raistlin, and it was after that that Caramon wrote his letter that Raistlin has returned unread. It was always strange to me, like a hole in spacetime kind of feeling (although now that I'm thinking of it, it probably is supposed to work alright without us knowing what it was?..). I am now entirely certain that it was this letter; possibly but not certainly not exactly this text due to retcons. I will be writing meta on this in a separate post (as I've been planning for months..). I initially meant for the repost to be combined with it, but decided to post it separately.
Also, I have Iearned about this piece of DL from this cosplay post (link in underlined).
Facebook link, repost, and transcription (as the letter itself is on photos) under the cut.
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Facebook link
Repost of the Facebook post (by Margaret Weis):
This is a letter from Raistlin to Caramon. I wrote this in January, 1984 when I was at TSR. (You can see from the time stamp.) This was written three months before the short story, The Test of the Twins, appeared in Dragon and months before Tracy and I decided to write Autumn Twilight. i recently found this in a box in a closet.
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Photos of two printed pages. Both have a timestamp at the top: Mon, Jan 30, 1984, 7:58 AM. The rest of the text:
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I have often believed my intelligence a curse. It was a cruel trick the gods played, imprisoning this hot and hungry spirit in a body as fragile as a charred log.
They would have taught me compassion and—in part—they succeeded. I have always felt the bitter sting of injustice for those too weak to fight powerful brothers for a rightful share of mother's milk. But did I hurt for them? No. I pitied them—always—and it felt good to pity someone as I have known myself to be pitied.
How much of this will you understand, my brother? Very little, I know. How could you understand—you whose body has always answered to your spirit. You who take what you want or are given it for the asking; while I crawl through a world of tricks and illusions, duplicity and sham, amazing all beholders with a few flashy pyrotechnics. I learned, you see, long ago, how to avoid pain.
Dear, good, Caramon. Dear, good, steadfast Caramon. Dear, good, steadfast, boring Caramon. Why have you loved me all these years? You—the only one—for our mother never loved me. Nor can I blame her. I discovered when I was five that I knew more of the world than she did. I never needed her and we do not love those who do not need us.
And that is it, I suppose. That is the reason why you love me. I needed you. And I love you for the same reason. You needed me. Does that amaze you, brother dear? You—needing me? Raistlin the weak one, the one always pushed to the rear of any battle while you jump forward to meet the enemy with glorious flash of sword. You need me, I repeat. You need me to need you.
What will happen to you when I'm gone? Your small flame will have nothing to feed on. Will it dim and die? I wonder...
Gone?
Yes, I am going. I need you no longer, Caramon. I have found that which will be both mother and brother to me. Aye and lover too. For in that I know you pity me most. How can you understand that the decaying flesh these eyes see sickens me—yet fills me with desire? A desire to embrace death, to be one with it and end my fear. To rule death, brother!
That is what I seek and that is what I have in my reach. And if I succeed, what then? Immortality? I am not so foolish to believe in that. How could I, knowing that a sneeze might end my days forever. No, I will have power over life and death—something those fools of Dragonlords sought and could never achieve.
Their gruesome, monstrous armies could snuff out a man's life, but not his spirit. Or her spirit. Ah, Laurana... I will see you always—shining star of my dark heavens.
So why did I fight them? Petty, ignorant people. They did not deserve to rule. But now they will play my game. Now they will come to me. And they will pay whatever I ask.... They will acknowledge me Master!
And you—will you come, Caramon? With misguided loyalty, will you follow after me to save me...once again. The thought flatters me. I can see you, dear, bumbling brother, battling god knows what for my sake. I can see self-sacrifice light your noble countenance.
Don't do it, Caramon. I see another vision—a very pleasant one—you, on your knees....
The hour grows late. I tire easily, as you know. I have studied long this night and I have reached my decision. As of now, you have no brother, Caramon.
I die at birth, as I should have.
Take this letter to Tanis. He will explain it to you. He understood me. That is why I feared him.
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One downside to being an armchair aviation enthusiast and enjoyer of forensic science is that I occasionally find myself witnessing ( or in ) crashing planes instead of in a restful dream.
I'm not totally sure what it means for me but I think for the town's very own ( and only ) hero, it takes on a much bigger meaning, a metaphor for the things in life he can't change and a sobering reminder of the burden constantly on his shoulders- an immortal being surrounded by a world defined by its unavoidable mortality, an ever present reminder of the losses he is destined to face even with the advantage of inhuman brawn and magic crystals.
He chooses not to think about it during his waking hours, of course, which gives his subconscious that much more ammunition when he doesn't have as much of a say over where his mind wanders.
Bonus:
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What if .. then. .. and ... but then... i need to be good im not good then I should DIE
This all means nothing. Its pointless. I guess we can die if you want tho.
Oh my god. .. its all pointless?! Why am I even here then? Oh oh no Oh no I dont like that there needs to be a point to it all.. wait i dont want to die ... i cant I cant i cant
Well theres not a point i dont know what you want me to tell you. Nothing matters.
to where we are and where we'll go. feat @divinehr.
divine priscilla gets a random starter from this starter call.
based on wonder eye by little moon.
it's easy to get lost in the act of wondering. a man of few words, most of daryl's considerations happen within his own mind; and although he is not necessarily philosophical by nature, he's never been immune to the cyclical lines of questioning that so often sprout from life's troubles like weeds.
this pattern of thinking invades his mind most often after suffering a loss. almost like clockwork, daryl is plunged into his thoughts as a ship is tossed through a stormy ocean. before the outbreak, it was enough to have to think about how everyone's time gets shorter the longer you sit with it. now? the what ifs and what could have beens are relentless. the grief is more tangible than daryl thinks it ever was before.
he's of the mind that no one really knows what happens when you die; that it matters more that you're here while you're here, present in the moment instead of counting the days on bloody fingers. but that's not to say that daryl doesn't at times ask himself why he must witness the ends of so many of his people, having only their stories to keep their memories alive.
the answer that he settles on every time is simply that awful things happen, and learning to live with it is all there is to do. he believes that people look to the sky for their answers far too much, expecting some kind of divine knowledge to descend upon them from the clouds. they want reasons for the pain— an explanation as to why their suffering is worth enduring when the truth lies in their own willpower. it's why he hasn't done anything like praying since long before the end of the world.
still... none of this makes losing people any easier. like loose silt on the wind does daryl find himself traveling along the river's edge, following his body's natural inclination to create distance and give room to his thoughts. he's only pulled out of his own head when a figure grabs his attention.
7: What's your strangest talent? - I can tell time without looking at a clock. Seriously it's probably like 11:20am right now
14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? - Playing Pokemon Go tbh
21: Who is your celebrity crush? - we all know it's Chris Evans and it's not gonna change unless my boyfriend becomes a celebrity himself
28: What is your biggest "what if"? - This one wasn't too fun to admit but I appreciated the challenge to do so. I guess my answer would be, what if there is no afterlife like my upbringing taught me? What if it's just an unknowable void? As a kid I never feared this because I had that innocent trust in God that most Christian kids do. But now I'm not sure. I definitely hope I'm wrong.
Thanks for asking these. 28 was definitely a challenge as I'm kinda coming to terms with that, but I appreciated it :)
