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Olarali lifted up the letter into her hands and pondered its surface. She was used to missives that were of a higher standard than norm, their embossed surfaces highlight in enough gold dust it caused her fingers to glisten, but something was unusual about this one. More than normal.
Her name was written in an unfamiliar hand upon the front, and it also stated her station within the house. Now, not all people remembered to place her, preferring a gentler touch if they were sending a letter involving something they desired or wanted, but upon occasion formality was a decent step forwards when required.
Carefully, and still in the same hand, the address of the house was written, and embossed over it was a license number of the local postal office, allowing it to be hand delivered to her. So obviously it had passed through several hands to get to her. Its smooth surface lacked any other decoration, but the weight of the paper simply screamed that it was expensive.
She turned the envelope over and examined the seal, a simple press of metallic foil that had been pressed onto the join, to keep those who wished to tamper with other peoples news away. It was unbroken, and a bedazzling shade of green. Her gaze flicked up to the looking mirror upon her dresser and she frowned, holding the envelope up to her eyes. The shades matched perfectly. Exactly, in fact.
With a frown now furrowing her brow she lowered the letter and used her silvery opener to slide through the join and force the foil to yield. Once down, she placed the mock dagger down and opened the envelope, pulling forth the single sheet of parchment.
A delicate lace covering decorated the front of the letter, its girlish charms pleasing to the eye and almost transparent. The thought put into it was worthy of the best naming day parties, or perhaps a return of a friend who would love company with tea. She gently folded back the soft decoration before she froze, her eyes upon the letter itself.
It was no more than a scrap of paper, its surface smudged with ink from the local rags and stained until it crackled. Flakes of dried blood clung to her fingertips as it scattered to her very breath in the room. The writing was coarse, nothing like what was on the front of the envelope, and the words were simple.
We are sad to announce the death of Prostitute Olarali, famed lady of the House of Scarlet Wings.
Although alarming, her eyes widened at the printed date upon the bottom of the page. It was dated for three days time.
_________________
Lorna.
There is hardly anything in the world that cannot be solved by the eating of cake.
*flails around*
Owner of: Lenarai, Areluu, Olarali Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
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