#oleandre

Amazing and fun wedding with @auliander-ffxiv​ and @oleandre-ffxiv​!

Gratz you two, we absolutely enjoyed it! <3

Thanks to @fairasmorninglight - Oleandre officially has his own space again.

Oleandre sat at his desk, a happy smile on his face as he surveyed the daily mail.  Sending and receiving letters had always been something for which the Wildwood harbored a special love.  Today’s bounty was especially fruitful.  The first item bore a return address of the Moonlight Reverie Home for Children.  The envelope was neatly sliced open and the contents slid out carefully.  The first item, a picture of a gangly female Roegadyn child grinning awkwardly teased an even wider smile from him.  Oleandre loved children and was so pleased to be receiving a letter from the orphan he had recently sponsored.  The smile was short-lived however as he thought back on that night and his mind naturally went to Auliander.

Hellbent on restoring his cheer, Oleandre opened the note and read it in good humor – that is, until he read the words “call me Gwyn.”  He seethed in-spite of himself.  “Of all the fucking names,” he spat as he jerked opened the top drawer of his desk and cast the letter and picture inside.  He looked up toward the ceiling, a sighed momentarily, cursing the Twelve and their twisted sense of humor.  “One letter each moon from Gwyn.  Almost poetic, really.”  He murmured to himself drolly.  “Fitting punishment for a coward,” he mused as he lifted an uncorked bottle to his lips and imbibed, having not even bothered with a vessel today.  

He proceeded to handle several other pieces of correspondence, the last of which was a letter from the magistrate he had written on Y’Kehda’s behalf.  This he left unopened and resolved to explore with her later.  Before Oleandre knew what he was doing, he picked up a quill and a sheaf of fresh parchment.  It wasn’t until he had addressed the letter that its purpose dawned on him.  He considered crumpling the paper and tossing it away but relented, “Don’t be an idiot, Oleandre.”

He set down on paper words that had been burning at his tongue and heart in equal measure over the past half-moon.

Auliander,

It is my sincerest hope that this letter finds you well.  I would speak of the state of things here, but I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to ascertain it without my doing so – one of the many things I have come to love about you.  

I have played our parting words in my mind every waking moment and I am haunted by them.  I feel as I did as a lecturer when a student would hand in work that was riddled with errors.  I want to mark each mistake with red ink and write “see me” in large print on the bottom – but I can’t.  

All of this is to say that I feel like a fool for ushering you out of my life – doubly so knowing that I did so under selfish pretenses. You were right to call me a coward.  Worse still, I abandoned you in service to this cowardice.

I confess my fear to you now without shame or preamble. Loving you terrifies me.  Losing you terrifies me all the more. 

I pray we can somehow mend the wreckage of our friendship – to hope for more seems terribly wistful at this juncture.

I should very much like to speak with you, if you would consent it.

Oleandre

He let the tip of the quill idle on the page causing an inkblot to form at the tip of the ‘e’ as he considered his words.  

Oleandre was pulled from his reverie as the door to his office slid open and Y’kehda approached. “Mail, Ser?”  He nodded toward the pile assembled and gave her a gentle smile. “I’ll wait for that last one,” she offered.  

“Thank you, but this is one piece of mail I should like to deliver myself.”  He stood and pulled his crisp overcoat on.  “Oh – that reminds me – a letter from the Magistrate arrived today. We will open it over dinner when I return.”  He walked passed Y’Kehda as he made to depart, but he turned back briefly to add, “And Y’Kehda.  No squirrel.”

Less than a bell later he stood in front of Auliander’s apartment door, heart racing as he thought of the time they had shared within its quaint interior.  “Now or never, old man,” He muttered as he stooped and slid the letter under the sturdy door.