[The letter is written by a child with some small corrections done by an adult]
HI Zorphin kids
My name is Kaso. You met my awesome brother Sardon. He told me about the games you were playing and Im kind of jealous (cuz hes my brother) but its okay if you borrow him from time to time
ON
ONE
CONDITION
I WANNA PLAY TOO!!!!!!
the zorca don't have a lot of kids so sometimes it gets lonely but thats why Sardon is so cool cuz hes always there to hang out with me. But he's got a girlfriend now [there's a crude drawing of him doing an eyeroll] so he has to pay attention to her too (thats okay because Sona is cool! did you know she used to be my finance fiancée? Sardon TOTALLY stole her from me but thats the usual drama in zorca pods)
ennyway please write back and let me know if I can come over and play you all sound really cool
senserely sincerely
Kaso
Dear Kaso,
Hi, my name is Brin! I am one of the older kids in the swarm, and my mama is a sub-pod leader!
That's messed up that your brother stole your girl. Shame on him for that. If you require an army to tear him down, our teeth our ready. We have lots and lots and lots of kids around here! 40 babies were born last winter and 15 this summer! Currently, we have 500 children in the swarm! And all of us love to play!
If you think your brother is awesome, you should meet Fjord! He is the biggest Zorphin in our pod's history and is really, really, really good at playing seamonster!
If you want to play with us, we are always splashing around Eventide Island in the summer and the Isles of Song southeast of Eventide in the winter! We have an entire island and cove just for us kids at the isles, and no grown-ups are allowed!
If you come to play, we can show you the glow caves! It's the perfect place to play hide and seek!
Also, if you need an army to usurp your brother for stealing your fiancée, we are willing to go to battle! My baby sister's teeth just came in!
We are all excited to meet you!
Smiles and songs, Brin!
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How are you doing? Are you eating well? Are they treating you well, where you are? Do they listen to you? Do they respect you? You must make them listen to you. You must earn their respect. Anything less is death.
I glimpsed the sunset today. It burned. I thought of you. When will the fires of your revolution swallow you whole? I do not want you to burn. A sacrificial lamb is only useful at the moment of its death. There is nothing outside of the dichtomy. It is only a question of who kills you.
I hope you are doing well! I asked King Morgott if I may use his lift alongside Millicent, my new friend. He didn’t mind, as long as I didn’t go to the Mountaintops of the Giants. Which I didn’t.
I’m learning more about myself than ever before. It’s honestly a little frightening, seeing how much I changed since I arrived.
My tea tastes better than ever, thanks to the contributions everyone has made for me.
I hope to tell you of my travels when I return, and hold a celebration with everyone!
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[A letter in an envelope, found in a trashcan filled with messy, crumpled papers containing similar sentences to each other. In the letter is a small yellow rose pressed within its pages.]
Greetings,
I am writing this letter to you with the intention of telling you something that has been weighing on my mind for quite some time. Even as I write, I am unsure if these words should ever reach your eyes. However, I trust that my thoughts will be kept safe with you, and you are free to do whatever you wish with them, including disregarding them completely. Do not worry, although it is a matter that has persisted for quite some time, I do not think that it is a very serious or pressing matter. Quite the contrary, especially since I have not quite finished mulling over it yet. If left unresolved, I will not be unsatisfied, but should you wish you help me shed some light on the matter, as perceptive as you are, it would be most welcome.
Having said all that, it is a bit difficult for me to write about it, much more to speak about it. I doubt I will ever bring this up to you verbally in person, there is simply too much for me to translate into tangible words. How does one start to describe a feeling so complex and overwhelming, one that begs to be shared despite having such an intimidating price to pay? I understand such vague descriptions do not help convey what I wanted to tell you, however they still hold true to some degree, and know that I am struggling with this too. I kindly ask you for your patience to entertain me and my thoughts. I also have the habit of making things seem a lot heavier than they really are, which, no matter how hard I try to rewrite this, ends up happening in one way or another, so do pardon me on this as well.
Perhaps if I were to describe this feeling I have towards you, it would be similar to the times where I would stand by a grave after a funeral, a little after the mourners have left the graveyard. To many, it is not a pleasant feeling, and they would not find themselves to be in the area long enough for it, however I find great meaning and solace in moments such as these. It is quiet and calming, comforting and peaceful. You can feel the wind that gently shakes the leaves on the tree, the same breeze that caresses the polished gravestones of the departed and takes away your thoughts and prayers to a place only you know. It is easy for me to lose track of time, as I have on multiple occasions. The feeling of satisfaction of a another successful funeral, the freedom to be unjudged in solitude... is most enjoyable indeed.
Such a feeling is also cold, not in a literal sense, although the graveyard does get quite chilly at night. However, this feeling of being around you has much more warmth to it. It is bright but not blinding, warm but not uncomfortable. Whenever I am alone in the graveyard, I am always wary of approaching footsteps; with you there is nothing to be afraid of, even if we are in the most hopeless of situations. While others look at me with eyes of disgust and hostility, you always face me with that golden smile of yours and those gentle eyes. No matter the circumstance, you are always there to reply in kind, with kindness. It is much more than comforting- welcoming, if you will. Perhaps this is what makes it so painful when people leave, the perpetual loss of this feeling that only comes with a selected few... Now I am quite fearful of this, too.
Feelings aside, I have always wanted to express my admiration towards you, but I never could find the words or means to do so. The way you face life with such vivacity despite all the trials and tribulations tells of your unwavering strength to press on down a path you alone have created. Your optimism is not blind, and you attract many people, including those who only seek to use and betray you. Yet you never faltered, even if you should fail, or when thrust deep into despair. Not many would be able to survive in your shoes, and even fewer would be as brave as you have been. I can only wish to have a sliver of the strength and hope you possess.
It is times like this when I feel it is presumptuous for me to call you a friend. For one who shines so brightly should be among the rest of the stars, and someone like myself can only dream of reaching the skies. So if such a thing had never existed, a bond that never started in the first place, why am I so fearful of it ending? Imagining a beginning, suffering the end, again and again. Death would be kinder, putting a complete end to everything you know, unlike the pain that comes from waking up from a lovely dream that never happened.
My apologies, I got carried away again and made the subject a lot more grave than it is. I doubt any of what I just wrote made any sense; the more I write, the less logical I seem to become. Before I end my senseless ramblings, I would still like to point out that this is all true, as vague and confusing as they are, all part of the mystery of my feelings that I have yet to solve. Perhaps I never will, and I am okay with that. No one has to bother about these trivial things, much less yourself. And so I only request that you take none of these matters to heart; simply indulge my selfish desire to entertain these mindless thoughts of mine and think naught of them, as if this letter is but the whisperings of a wind from a lost grave. These words are fleeting and carry no consequence, travelling on a breeze to a place only we know.
I'm not going to follow your rules. They've had. Permanent impact. I can't smile without feeling bad. I feel guilty for even being angry. Because of you, I don't know how to be me."
"I hate you! And it's been years and years since I've ran away, I know that! But every time I think of you and all you put me through?! I want to punch you through a building!"
The name is one I grew up with you know, one that my dad told amazing stories about, one that I both kind of hated and kind of admired my whole life. Well. My life up until I met you at least. You didn’t live up to the hype. You weren’t the person who did the right thing with the wrong approach, and you weren’t the guy who did anything selflessly.
Sure, you were reckless, and you couldn’t follow a law to save your life, but you never trusted your team with anything important. You never put your faith in anyone but yourself unless they were willing to compromise their own morals. You even took in someone who went to HYDRA willingly instead of making sure she made amends. That’s one of the reasons the Accords were even started you know. In countries that had something against her but got her anyway, they wanted a measure to keep her away from them since she was legally protected from being arrested if they even could with her abilities. But, well, that’s horribly old news, isn’t it?
In the end, you guys came around when you wanted something from me, as these things usually went, and not a moment before. It’s probably the only thing I’m glad about. Once, in the entire time we knew each other, were my wishes actually considered. Until it was convenient, of course.
I don’t forgive you, but it’s not for the reasons you probably think it is. I don’t forgive you for being a smear across my father’s memory and not living up to who he told me you were. I never met the man from his stories, who put his friends first, and who cared about the people that the world might step on in its carelessness. The only Steve Rogers I met put himself first and never ever considered that other people might be right too.
I hope, someday, you find the man you left back in the forties, because that Steve Rogers was a good man. If you do nothing else in your life, please do that, for my father’s memory if no one else.
