hadriel ic inbox

[completelycrazy]

"Hey! Uh... It's Newt, sooo leave me a message, I guess? These voicemail things are always so lame."

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[originallutece]

Newton--

I know I promised you I wouldn't write you a letter, but since when have I bothered to listen to anyone but my own whims? Honestly, I'm more surprised you thought you could order me about; clearly, a year here has taken its toll. You're in strong need of someone else to tell you what to do.

I hope this proves, if nothing else, that I truly was there with you. I left a message on one of your plants; further proof. It isn't anything I'd ordinarily say, just so you can have confirmation it isn't your mind hallucinating a false version of me (though before you leer, no, it isn't anything filthy).

[There's a fairly large blot of ink, as though she'd held a pen there for a while.]

Given this is a letter, I suppose I can give in to sentiment. Things I wouldn't allow myself to say if things were normal-- but then again, they aren't normal, are they? Of all the monsters I thought we might face over our time working together, I admit I never imagined we might find ourselves in another world. Not like this. I thought we might die in the Shatterdome; I thought we might end up poisoned from your filthy kaiju bits. I even thought that perhaps we might face the extinction of our species. But I did not count on having to find you after a year of separation.

Nor did I count on what I found.

This place has taken its toll on you, Newt. I could tell that from the moment I laid eyes on you. And I know you don't want to admit it-- perhaps you won't, even now, and are scoffing at me through this letter. But I advise you to remember how often I'm right, and how well I've grown to know you. This place is eating you alive.

The kaiju did as well. But then, at least, it was a worthy sacrifice. I bit my tongue and said nothing, in no small part because I was doing the same thing; because it was a necessary loss. But here in this strange world, Newt . . . take care of yourself. I realize the irony of my saying that, but I do mean it. Take care of yourself, and take care not to give these gods too much of what they want. If they thrive on emotion, on souls, then be certain that you don't give yours entirely away. Your curiosity matches mine, and I know how badly you want to know everything, but keep in mind there's no way to get back what they take. And you aren't the only one here. Let others help. Let others sacrifice bits of themselves, their emotions, their souls, whatever it is these creatures feast upon.

I miss you. Or rather . . . I suppose I know you'll miss me, and I'm sorry I can't be there with you. I truly am. It seems wildly unfair that I should get to return to you, and yet you remain here. But take heart: your appearance means that you do return. Perhaps with your memories intact; perhaps not. But I can tell you full well that I've seen you, spoken to you, spent several hours with you . . . and unless you do something incredibly foolish, that future will not change.

You said these are yearly occurrences. It follows, then, that if you don't find me before a year is up, I'll find you. That isn't much, I know. But it's something.

Take care of yourself, Newton. I urge you again only to underscore the point. If I come back in a year and find you a mess, I shan't be happy. And may I remind you, I tend to spread my unhappiness around.

I'll see you soon. And you'll see me in less than a year.

R. L.