inbox.

[unshut]

(crystal | written | action)

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[unshut]

Scribing, clerking, accounting. Lover of fine shirts.

[All of this she carries off in a tone of easy good humor. It is only after that some of the artifice falls away. A little trace of regret or wistfulness or something else tinging the edges of the low gravely voice which speaks over the crystal.]

A little more tender hearted than I'd like, I think.

[thereneverwas]

Well. [Fondly,] aren't we all.

Mother always said kindness is what matters. ...then... well, she drowned in the flooding of Old Crestwood while bringing food to the sick, so.

[That wasn't that funny. Shit.]

...maybe kindness is a hazard of its own.

[unshut]

[A selective pause. One for the sorting of delicate, breakable details.]

I've always thought it so. But I find my nature a compelling force.

[thereneverwas]

One might say that's part of your charm.

[unshut]

[That earns a dismissive noise. And then a moment later, she is all good cheer once more.]

If not that then there must be something, [she agrees.] I'm exceedingly charming.

[thereneverwas]

[Chuckling,] that you are.

[He tries to stifle a yawn, but fails; the deep breath in and out can be heard over the crystal.]

Mm, I'm fading. I hope your dreams tonight are sweeter, you pretty thing. Please try not to kill anyone in mine.

[unshut]

I make no promises. Perhaps my sleeping mind has acquired a taste for blood.

[thereneverwas]

[A dramatic groan.]

Then I suppose I'm at your mercy.

[unshut]

Good night, Barrow.