Shattered

Fate

The fire flickers in the window of the stove. Heat easily fills the small space that is Vir's house. Sasha!'s sun is already setting, to allow him more time to fit all the things he needs to do in his day; and the Moon Boy is out, diligently rebuilding his snowball moon to full size.

Vir sits nearby, cross-legged, tea held in their lap, reviewing the prior records of the Swan Maiden's visits and all that happened therein. Seperately, they are also going over the records they wrote of the visit by Babushka and Greg, comparing them to the records of the recent fluctuation of fortune and misfortune in the Omollo household and the corresponding music notations Aaren made.

There's a knock on the door, for courtesy.

"Letter for Aaren!" It's Vanya.

And then, because this is the Priest's House, Vanya opens the door and enters. Rather, Prepekti Ivana Ivanovič Almirov Kovač, given how he's in uniform. (Sans baby, because babies are distinctly not a part of the regulation uniform.) Over the course of just the last year, bi-monthly form processing has become weekly form processing. Sometimes twice a week, even! But the work is quicker now, at least, since Rikard Ramirez decided he wanted to be her apprentice. His apprentice.

Prepekti Kovač stands in the cloakroom, letter in hand.

"There's fresh tea," Vir calls.

"That sounds lovely, thank you," begins the Prepekti, "but I'm on the clock."

(Aaren had to explain to Vir what a clock was, when Vanya first used this term. Vanya had to explain the term itself, though.)

Vir hums him a non-committal musical assent, gaze returning to the pages before them.

Aaren

Aaren pauses for a moment, to see if she can hear the handwriting on the letter from where she is sitting on the floor surrounded by charts. Alas! She can't. She leaps to her feet, threads her way carefully through the charts and pops into the cloak room to take the letter from Prepekti with a smile and a song of thanks.
She checks who it's from before she's even turned around.

Fate

It's got the Tsarbog's officially unofficial seal, in the shape of a horseshoe, untampered. The wax sings brittle, much more brittle than usual. The paper of the letter itself is quite aged, its song consisting of (among other things) the excretion of rich, smooth smell, and of a yellowed color, more golden at the edges. Still, it's crisp and unwrinkled.

Aaren

"Tsarbog wrote!" Aaren calls to Vir. She plunks back into the room, sits down, and starts reading.
The charts, after all, can wait.

Fate

The Prepekti offers Aaren a return smile, then calls out a general, enthusiastic farewell in Chlovak (one part is untranslatable, and literally it means "good-motherfucking-bye," but that's less important than the happy farewell part) before leaving.

Vir lets out a song reply of acknowledgement.

Aaren

Aaren reads twice.
She reads it a third time.
She stops. Stops everything. Then , slowly, she says, "Vir, I have to go to Bakersfield." Her voice, the only one speaking, is flat with shock.

Fate

Vir's music continues, sedate, for a little bit. And then it shifts abruptly, and their eyes are no longer reading. It's not from shock, no. It's from a quiet but sudden epiphany.

"Oh. I see." A pause. "For a long time or a short time?" It's not an either-or question. It's hardly even a question. "You can take the rest of the day off." An offer, gently given, even though it sounds kind of like a command.

Aaren

"Yeah." Aaren says. She shoves the letter into their hands and runs out the door. "DAINA!" She calls, at the top of her voice (well, maybe not quite the top), "I need to talk to you!" She makes for the sound of Dina's song, realizing only just in time that a running Aaren will probably startle the whole village.

Daina

Daina tilts her head hearing Aaren.. she sounded.. upset maybe. Definately not calling on her for a game or something fun. She drops the towel she was folding and in a few strides is out the door and lifting her head to scent where Aaren is and heading that way as quickly as she's able. Meeting somewhere in the middle she attempts a smile but worry furrows her brow. "Someone sick.. or hurt.. what's up?" Looking over Aarens face for a hint of the problem she was needed for.

Aaren

Aaren opens her mouth to explain, and then remebers that the letter asked her to be descrete. She vocalizes for a moment, a holding action while her second voice starts back up and starts singing her thinking song. Her third voice, also stiring, is singing her shock song.
Mostly to keep her in shock. She has to get stuff done, after all.
"Come with me, I need to read you this letter I got." She says it imperiously. This is imperative. She turns, assuming Daina will follow, and heads back to Vir's.

Daina

Daina looks uncertain about the letter and that it could be -that- important but.. well clearly it was. She felt a faint rise of hair at the back of her neck as she rushes to follow Aaren, catching up by moving double time to Aarens longer strides.

Fate

Vir is there in the cloakroom upon their arrival, halfway through putting on their winter clothes on. But instead of spending too much time being surprised, they simply hold up the letter, folded back into place, for Aaren to take.

Aaren

Aaren takes it hands it to Daina. "It's from the Tsarbog." She says, by way of unceccesary explination.

Daina

Daina takes the letter and starts to read it, frowning as if it was important and from the Tsarbog it was likely -really- important.

Fate

Renushya —

I apologize in advance for being dramatic. I wish I could show you the pile of discarded paper and wasted ink on my desk presently, as I sought the best way to tell you, but given how, as of writing, not even your surviving great grandmother has been born... well.

By the time you read this, I will be dead.

That doesn't mean that this will be the last correspondance from me. I daresay you'll get tired of receiving correspondance from me between now (as in your now, not mine) and... well, then. I fear I have gone overboard. Writing letters to you will be a highlight of the next century or so (for me, at the time of writing, that is). Especially when you begin sending letters back.

Don't worry, it will not all be business.

I also offer sincere condolences for the opera your life is about to become. I offer them to Dainulya, too, but will make the distinction that her life's opera had already begun some time ago. As of your present time, of course.

For extra especial security reasons, I will be annoyingly vague. I apologize for this too. More specifics will be coming, at undefined points in time.

Here is what's going on, in as general terms as I can manage:

1. Only those whom I have informed are aware that I am dead. It is essential for this to remain the case for as long as possible.
2. The one who killed me is a very old, very dangerous adversary. No one person in this world has the resources to stand against him. No standing army has the resources to fight him.
3. My Lord Svantovit has not seen fit to reveal my adversary's goals or motivations. Just that it is necessary to. This is rather in keeping with my own personal experiences with said adversary.
4. I have scattered pieces of my essence around the world. They must be collected and brought together safely if there is to be any hope of stopping my adversary.
5. The Aspen Seed is a very necessary part in this equation.
   I'm sure you can see where this is going.

Please take Dainulya and whomever you trust and find these pieces and bring them together.

Pretty please.

You are the only one I will have told about what these pieces are. And you are one of the few I can trust to find these pieces. I will have done everything I possibly can to make your path as smooth as I possibly can. I will also have done what I can to put your home in good hands. But it will not be easy, and it will take you from your home and your family for a long time.

Begin in Bakersfield. Shortly after arrival you'll receive more instructions.

— Božena <3

Aaren

While Daina reads, Aaren does the musical equivilant of hopping from foot to foot in anxeity. As Daina's song progresses through the various emotions attendant upon a letter of such magnitute, Aaren begins singing her personal calm song, with everything she can muster. The shock is wearing off, and she needs to think now anyway.

Daina

As her eyes scan slowly down the page one hand rests on her middle where the seed is, she absently adds her voice to the calm song and then takes a breath as she carefully folds the letter. "we should burn this..." she says quietly as she hands over the letter to Aaren to make that choice or not. "We have to prepair for another journey.." Her lips purse faintly and she opens her arms to Aaren in offering of hugs. "I'm sorry Aaren I know you were good friends." She's not crying but her eyes glisten suspiciously.

Aaren

Aaren's voices are singing total calm, so she doesn't panic at the suggestion. Right now, she's only barely sad. With her free voice she sings, "Will you please ask Frankie to swallow it for me instead? I don't want to get rid of it."
Aaren takes the hug, but she's avoiding being present, so it's not a great hug. "We've got to talk to dad." But she hums her appreciation song. She's going to want lots and lots of hugs whenever it is that she makes time to be sad.
She turns to Vir, "Will you come with us? We need to make decisions about when we are leaving."

Fate

Vir looks between them, then nods.

Daina

Daina nods a little and summons Frankie who doesn't fully materialize but his maw gapes out from the shadow under her bust and she puts the letter inside to be hidden away. "show no one that letter Frankie.. it's important" She then nods and gestures for Aaren to lead the way to Ash, or conversely will sniff the air to find him and lead the way. Whichever is needed.