I hope you don't find me strange for lying a letter at your doorstep. In truth, I have no skill for the handheld boards of your realm. They vex me, whereas ink and parchment do not. It took some time for me to locate you, and I should hope that doesn't frighten you either... though, in tandem, I might see how this paints a rather unflattering portrait of me. I'll make it clear now: if you have no desire to hear from me again, I'll respect your wishes. The last thing I'd want to do is make you uneasy.
That being said, there's a reason for this correspondence.
I can't get our evening of passion from my head. There are large parts that I don't recall properly, but the things I do remember are otherworldly. Words can hardly describe it. I've lain awake asking myself if I'm deluded for what I felt. It was as if our souls were intertwined, something beyond an ordinary lust. Did you feel that too? Are the drinks of the Peppermint Hippopotamus just that strong? Or was it something about you?
If you find it agreeable, I'd like to see you again.
Perhaps we can put our magic to the test once more and compare notes on our findings.
No name, no address, so it's another day or two before Anders will find a sheet of lined paper torn out of a notebook folded snugly and slipped under the door of his hotel, addressed to "A". His handwriting is sloppy, punctuated throughout with violently scribbled passages that are still fairly legible to the trained, patient eye.
That letter is a really tough act to follow. I guess I'll say that I wasn't expecting to hear from you again but it's totally cool a really great surprise. The stalking is kind of weird. But your super old school right? So I guess you're probably "of your time" or something. IDK. It's kind of hotromanticnormal for me so don't frowned on, so be careful. But yeah it wasn't the drinks. I thought it was you TBH. I think about it a lot when I'm. Sometimes I thought I dreamed it, so I'll be honest this is a little real/surreal to me. That was a weird night, we should talk when we're not drunk. I'm way open to testing magic. Here's the address of the place I work, or if the lights are on at my house I'm home. Or my roommate knows where to find me. Really glad I didn't make a bad impression LOL I was worried. Come find me. Tell me your real name.
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look who's got a letter! / mid-feb
I hope you don't find me strange for lying a letter at your doorstep. In truth, I have no skill for the handheld boards of your realm. They vex me, whereas ink and parchment do not. It took some time for me to locate you, and I should hope that doesn't frighten you either... though, in tandem, I might see how this paints a rather unflattering portrait of me. I'll make it clear now: if you have no desire to hear from me again, I'll respect your wishes. The last thing I'd want to do is make you uneasy.
That being said, there's a reason for this correspondence.
I can't get our evening of passion from my head. There are large parts that I don't recall properly, but the things I do remember are otherworldly. Words can hardly describe it. I've lain awake asking myself if I'm deluded for what I felt. It was as if our souls were intertwined, something beyond an ordinary lust. Did you feel that too? Are the drinks of the Peppermint Hippopotamus just that strong? Or was it something about you?
If you find it agreeable, I'd like to see you again.
Perhaps we can put our magic to the test once more and compare notes on our findings.
— A
P.S.
My name is not really Fenris.
Please, never call me that again.
I beg of you.
no subject