Well, Mam, I guess you win.
We fight all the time
You and I, that's alright
We're the same soul
I don't need, I don't need to hear you say
That if we weren't so alike
You'd like me a whole lot more
Listen to me now
I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone
I know that we don't talk
I'm sick of it all
Can you hear me when I sing?
You're the reason I sing
You're the reason why the amhrán is in me
And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you that makes it hard to let go
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
Sometimes you can't make it
Best you can do, is to fake it
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
I was not planning on speaking or writing to you before you spoke to me first. You really hurt me when we last saw each other. And I know I hurt you, too, because we hurt in the same way. I love you, lots, but I just couldn't take the criticism anymore and I exploded. I know you were trying to help, but it wasn't what I needed from you. That's my apology, I guess.
Maybe it's too late.
I'm lost – in time, geography, direction. You are my source, my origin, and I hope that you are still alive. A little girl – maybe Da showed you my last letter – Ori told me that she believed you were alive, but I don't know if that's just an irrational hope.
I went to the post office to see if by a miracle there were any letters waiting for me. There was nothing – nothing that lasted the last few decades, at least, but a very dedicated archivist found a list of undelivered mail. There was something from Ath Dara. It's not a guarantee, but what are the odds that anyone else from Ath Dara or anywhere on Aethia would send a letter to this city?
Ori also seems to have a gift – she may be a seoltóir - and it manifested in the middle of a busy street. She went into convulsions, eyes rolled back, and spoke of a being of light with a staff fighting against the darkness, and something about a gem. And then I think she emanated a vision – a battle, waves of darkness, swords, and lines of light. None of it made sense to me. Maimeó would probably understand.
She also mentioned a name: Aeowynn. It almost seems familiar, but I can't recall why. I'd love to re-read my old letters I sent to Daideó… It's all so strange.
So my friends and I are getting back into performance. I know we're not as talented as you, but together we're impressive. I've refrained from using my spellsong – they seem to still hate magic here, maybe more than before. But we did a little street performance and it was passable, though Firia was doing some weird stompy thing. El was as graceful as always – she could probably match your dancing, though not while playing an instrument. I still don't know how you could multi-task so well…
After our little performance, we heard from the town crier that there was going to be a local competition to play at the King's banquet. Entertainers gathered from the entire city to sign up. We met up with the new owners of our old inn – they were as arrogant as usual (honestly, they genuinely are talented, and Annabel really reminds me of you… which is probably why I am so annoyed…).
Anyway, standing in line to sign up, we met a young woman – Aria. It turns out she had pickpocketed Firia, and was in the process of pickpocketing Annabel (in front of us in line); in the ensuing chaos, she ended up dropping her journal and Firia's money pouch. We ended up reading through her journal, and Mam, she had a really sad story. A real survivor.
Well, we took pity on her, and somehow integrated her into our group – she even joined our act as an archer. She's looking for an heirloom stolen by orcs.
Another group of note is a trio of traveling magicians – Markus Sterling, and his assistants Scarlet and Boris. Boris likes cats and candy and seems like a nice fellow. Scarlet is one of those pretty girls with fluff for brains, and Markus is a charmer. At least he's kind and polite, even if he's kind of manipulative.
They took us out for drinks after the sign-up, and somehow we agreed to join forces for the contest, to increase our odds of winning.
It turned out well – everything went surprisingly smoothly, and the entire contest was surprisingly fair. The main judge was a friend of that Annabel, so we thought we might not have a chance, but adding a male to the group (unfortunately) was probably what helped us out. It's a terribly patriarchal society here…
So we'll be joining Markus and his gang for a gala performance next week for the King. And hopefully we don't get into too much trouble - I just want to sing, collect the rest of our gold, and go.
Well, now you have heard from me, and I expect to hear from you. I think I'd like to try to somehow sail back to Ath Dara, but I'm not exactly sure how that will work. It starts with getting enough money for travel, and we'll go from there.
One step at a time.
Your Iníon,
~Maebh
