Chapter Text
He’d never written anyone a letter.
Therion could write, of course. Not as well as more educated folk perhaps, but Cyrus had helped him polish his reading and penmanship during their group’s travels together.
Formal public schooling was not a widespread thing in Orsterra. Many people read and wrote well enough to get by and knew basic arithmetic. That was about it, unless they were upper middle class or better. Or lucky enough to have a learned friend, in Therion’s case.
Regardless of any of that he found himself stumped as he sat on a crate in the stockroom of the Colzione Provisioners with a barrel as a desk.
The work uniform was a bit itchy. Not as worn in and comfortable as the clothes he'd been wearing before. It was different and stiffer material. Tressa's mother said he'd not only get used to it, but it would soften up with a few washes. Nothing new is ever perfect, she'd said. Wise words in more way than one.
He'd been reluctant to take up Tressa's offer of a job there at first. But he'd already put thieving behind him so he needed an income. Though his training period would probably require him to be stationary instead of traveling for the next several months, he'd been assured he could help with middleman's work and do plenty of adventuring on the side once he had a better grasp of the business.
And who was he to refuse his younger friend's kindness? Bicker they might, but the two of them did respect each other by now. After everything they and the others had been through together, it was impossible not to. He wouldn't say it out loud...but he thought of her as family. All of them were.
Anyway, he'd taken the job in the end. The outfit he'd been gifted for work was simple- a tweed vest and pants, both in shades of brown to match the leather cap. A simple collared shirt(white) and sturdy boots. The boots were fine, easy to wear in. The rest of the clothing was more fit to his body than his old duds.
He groaned and tapped his foot. How was he supposed to start this letter, anyway? Starting out with dear Cordelia felt too familiar.
Cordelia...wasn't a close friend. He would call them friends, yes, but only just. And he'd not spoken to or heard from her since he last left Bolderfall seven months ago. She would have turned eighteen by now. Just recently, even, if his memory of her birth season served.
...Dear Cordelia certainly was too familiar then. How ought he write his greeting, then? Again, he'd never written much beyond his name, much less a letter.
He still wasn't even sure why he felt compelled to do this. All things considered, Cordelia and Therion had not started off on the right foot. Or even the left. Their meeting was more of an inelegant stumble and butting of heads, in a way.
But despite her initial dishonesty with him Cordelia was far from a dishonest or irredeemable person. Now that he knew the real value of the dragonstones Therion understood even further why Cordelia had stooped below what were obvious rigorous personal morals to get his help. What he had mistaken for pity at first had been mere discontent with her own actions. Cordelia was not a manipulator by nature, Heathcote had revealed. She had gone into the plan at Heathcote's own urging, in fact, and been unsure about it the entire time. The closing of the mansion, the cutting off from society- it was initially to protect her own heart(and body) from further betrayal. But she didn't like any of it.
That was more evident now as Tressa talked about traveling merchants spreading rumors of the Ravus estate suddenly reopening to the public. Taking on new staff, reaching out to create public works projects. All the idea of the Lady of the House, according to one fellow. Not sure what changed, but one can't complain about a good turnaround now, can he?
That had spurred him in the end, Therion guessed. Curiosity about what was going on.
“Oh, forget it.” He muttered.
To the Lady Cordelia Ravus,
He began with that. Good, he'd started if nothing else. A little more foot tapping, and then a little more clumsy scribbling.
This is Therion.
Hm.
I'm writing because-
“What are you doing?”
Tressa's voice rang in the dim stockroom as a curious chirp. She was wiping dusty hands off on her waist apron. Therion hadn't even heard her come in. Guess I really am distracted, he lamented internally.
“Nothing.” Was his grunted reply. He kept scribbling. Tressa hummed and clomped over in her work boots to look over his shoulder. Therion ignored her.
“Oh, a letter!” She said after moment, “To that Cordelia girl? She was sweet.”
Therion hummed.
“Why are you writing her? I like her fine, but I thought you'd wanna forget her after what happened.”
Why would I want that? His mind chimed. He might not have liked her at first- and he couldn't say he was deeply attached to her now either.
But...
“I'm grateful to her.” He commented. Paused to put his pencil down. “Despite anything that happened initially, I don't think she wanted to hurt anybody. And...”
I have faith in you.
The words rang in his head as clear as day.
Not one person had ever said something like him to that before her. It still shook Therion to think about. He'd thought it a bit naive at the time, but her eyes had been so confident and her tone so clear. Now rather than Naive, he found it brave.
“...If nothing else,” He finally added, “She said some things that...helped me work through some old wounds.”
That conversation had been just the two of them. He wasn't sure how he felt about relaying the contents of it to Tressa. She was trustworthy, sure- but she was also a terrible tease. Like an annoying little sister.
And even with just this her smile grew mischievous, like she'd been handed a water balloon to throw at someone. Therion rolled his eyes. “Anyway, did you need something?” He asked gruffly.
“I was just bringing a couple of boxes in.” Tressa said, “But we're closing for lunch in a few minutes, so don't be late to eat. Tell your lady hello!”
“She's not my lady,” Therion snorted as Tressa giggled her way out of the room. Annoying little sister indeed.
But he could smell fragrant, rich soup smells wafting into the stockroom now. Mrs. Colzione was cooking. He moved to finish his missive so he could join the family for their meal. If he sent it out today, it would arrive at Bolderfall within the next week.
To The Lady Cordelia Ravus,
This is Therion.
I suppose my writing you must be pretty surprising. I can't say I have much to tell you, myself. But I suppose it doesn't hurt anything, does it?
I've taken up a trainee's position at my friend Tressa's family shop, if you're curious at all. I'll be traveling again as soon as the job will allow me.
I've heard you've reopened the estate. That's good. Make sure you're getting enough fresh air.
You can send a letter back if you want.
Cordially,
Therion