Work Text:
A thick fog blanketed over New Muldul, the intense humidity coupled with blistering heat and worsening storms is a perfect brew for visual obstructions such as this. The knight, Sir Pongorma stood upon this fog, looking up at the hazy sky, the lack of a moon did not help his vision at all, for all he could see was nothingness. This struck something deep beneath his fur, the absence of a great celestial body, the lack of a higher power and not to mention her duties as a knight. The dark sky was merely a reminder, a reflection of his deepest scars. Not wasting any time to let his mind wander, she promptly weaved his way into his knights quarters.
Secluded, the knight found himself comfortable. With a hiss of steam emerging from her helmet, she sat down on her twin cushioned chair, only given to the greatest of knights. Even in all of its stuffed foamy glory, his throne was yet another reminder of his duties. Her fur relaxed as she relaxed into the perfectly inclined chair, light tender steam billowing from his helmet like a warm bath. She let his weight sink into the chair, the springs and fabric resisting the taut and displacement caused by him, he threw his head back, so his vision is completely focused on the ceiling. Many restless nights foretold the outcome of his annual sitting, but this time his mind raced.
“Dedusmuln…”
He practically growled their name, she hadn’t heard from them ever since they went on that expedition, in search of… he didn’t care to remember the specifics. All she knew was that he truly missed them. They were possibly the most level headed, kind clayman he had ever met. She admired their dedication to their work of archeology, the way they groom their lamellar structure, oh how she missed their conversations, and the things he would give to see his reflection in their perfectly sheened armor again. The more she thought about them, she realized he admired everything about them. He suddenly got instantly whomped back into reality when she felt her fur stand on end, had he really gotten that worked up?
The knight jolted upward into an alert position, while still resting his legs on the soft couch. He has to get in contact with Dedusmuln, no matter what. So many alarms went off in his head regarding their safety but the first thing that came to mind was to contact them in written format. So she promptly scrambled to his desk, readying a sheet of paper and an ink quill. He seamlessly wrote the first chunk of the letter in jaw dropping calligraphy but abruptly stopped.
“Sir Dedusmuln,
I worry for you, and you alone.
I understand the strong feelings you have towards your work, but you must assure me you are in good health.”
Pongorma paused. How could he portray her emotions in words? Dedusmuln is one of the only people he can truly be himself around, no worrying about his image, or the cost of his head. Words cannot define his desire to be in their presence, he yearns for that connection with them again. He tightens his grip on the quill as he shakily writes the final paragraph.
“Please write me back once you’ve received this letter, I wish to see you again soon.
With utmost sincereness,
-Pongorma”
After finishing this tiny, but well thought letter Pongorma only felt worse, he felt like the sentences were incomplete, he couldn’t understand where this frustration was coming from so he just stared at the letter, reading it over, and over. Until the dawning light of day crept through his window, and eventually a knock on his door. And with that, he stuffed the letter in a desk drawer, with all the others.