It is the dearest wish of my heart that this letter reach you in time. I have every intention of setting sail within the week, making for Port Andin with all haste. Upon arrival, it will be my pleasure to seek out Mr. Daleman, and speak with him on one of two subjects: his immediate restitution for heinous acts against my person and the persons of others dear to me, or his immediate cessation of breath.
Under the assumption that he will prefer the latter, and knowing the depth and intensity of such a discussion, I would very much like to have your company.
Of course, my most admirable Jasen, I remember the pleasant exchange we had concerning Mr. Daleman last night. The chat, because of its volume and heat, has been permanently committed to memory, particularly your argument that “the man has no weapon more deadly than a bloody, limp, flapping purse.” As I did at the time, I will agree that it is bloody, but remind you that the item in question is, indeed, quite heavy and has slashed open more guts than your sword.
At this juncture, I am also obliged to remind you that I am allowed to do as I see fit with my own ship.
I would also very much enjoy your company, as you have an excellent sword, and a face that I rather enjoy speaking with on the frequent, pleasant occasions when our humors are not masquerading as vile, territorial electric sea squids.
If this letter reaches you before I depart, I assume you shall alert me of your answer either by a sharply worded return post, or arriving at my ship with your pack on your shoulder. It would please me greatly if you confined yourself to these two options, as your ire is much easier to bear – and rip into unreadable pieces – when delivered in ink and paper.
With love and admiration,
Miss Jennika Hael
Postdata: This missive has been written in the politest of tones, in the hopes that you will understand how sorry I am to have offended your honorable sensibilities last night. Kynbessne informs me that it could reasonably be construed as an attempt at humor at your expense.
Under the small chance that you may have read it that way, allow me to express in my usual, dulcet tones:
I like you. I like your ability to beat men down to wet bone dust. This is my choice. I’d rather have you with me than here, plotting new uses for my skin. Please come aboard.
I’m a thief! I’ve robbed my good friend, Kate to get the first line for this piece. Be sure to stop by her blog tomorrow to see her original piece.