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[impure_tale]

(ooc: Some hours after the original post, the words are striked out.)

Someone tell me where that buffoon is so I can set him on fire!

[Private to Vida Bohemme]

Madame,

I want you to see to it that my extra quills and parchments are disposed of, silvous plait. And I would like to pack my writings away for safe keeping.

I'll only be needing the inkpens that were given to me, and my journal from now on.

Comments

[impure-tale.livejournal.com]

You've nothing to fear, Giselle. I'm feeling much better.

[major-west.livejournal.com]

Who?

[written some hours later]

[impure-tale.livejournal.com]

Who else?

I'll speak with him soon enough. I am feeling better now, at least.

[major-west.livejournal.com]

Ah... I'm glad you're feeling better.

[herecomesmama.livejournal.com]

Well, of course, Darling...I'll...

Why?

[impure-tale.livejournal.com]

I do not think I need them anymore.

Vida just doesn't get it.

[herecomesmama.livejournal.com]

But you love writing!

[impure-tale.livejournal.com]

It's been a crutch for quite some time. I am not so confined here as I was back in France, and when I depend upon it too much, it makes me short sighted. I think it's time for me to try doing instead of telling for a while.

[herecomesmama.livejournal.com]

I...

Am so very proud of you.