Listle honey,
I know you're sort of on vacation and might not get this in time, but I thought you should know that Arboc is being obnoxious. I don't want to kill your puppy. I know he's dear to you and I hope he has the sense to know how to find indigo and yellow paint. If he doesn't, I'll whip you up some goldenrod and Murex shells. He broke my things at the Swamp and is on a bit of a homicidal rampage, so far only managing to throttle my fond memories, but he's a menace to artistry everywhere. He's nothing but muddy footprints and axe dings in the wood. Not at all the patronage of the Swamp.
I don't know where this boy grew up or how he got the idea he could run roughshod over everything in their absence, but please inform him that things are done a bit differently here. He looks like someone playing both sides of a tic-tac-toe game, proclaiming himself a genius when he wins, and then taunting an invisible enemy. Really, that bad. Eventually nobody will play with him at all and he'll be left to rant in his own blocked-off corner, like a crazed relative chained in the attic. If I have to, I'll simply set up an alternate place for him to travel where he can treat the imaginary people there with his brand of stupid and leave the grownups alone. He seems fairly easy to take in with illusion. And he's very afraid of spiders. I mean really. Afraid of dying and afraid of spiders, who gave this person a weapon? He should be collecting stamps.
Please talk some sense into this man-child, he's about to get himself kilt in all the wrong ways. I'm afraid if he forces us to chop his head off he'll still be running around the courtyard insisting he's fine.
I envy you your sitting tree, it looks lovely. Hope to visit you there after the repairs are made!
Happy Travels,
Cyren
I know you're sort of on vacation and might not get this in time, but I thought you should know that Arboc is being obnoxious. I don't want to kill your puppy. I know he's dear to you and I hope he has the sense to know how to find indigo and yellow paint. If he doesn't, I'll whip you up some goldenrod and Murex shells. He broke my things at the Swamp and is on a bit of a homicidal rampage, so far only managing to throttle my fond memories, but he's a menace to artistry everywhere. He's nothing but muddy footprints and axe dings in the wood. Not at all the patronage of the Swamp.
I don't know where this boy grew up or how he got the idea he could run roughshod over everything in their absence, but please inform him that things are done a bit differently here. He looks like someone playing both sides of a tic-tac-toe game, proclaiming himself a genius when he wins, and then taunting an invisible enemy. Really, that bad. Eventually nobody will play with him at all and he'll be left to rant in his own blocked-off corner, like a crazed relative chained in the attic. If I have to, I'll simply set up an alternate place for him to travel where he can treat the imaginary people there with his brand of stupid and leave the grownups alone. He seems fairly easy to take in with illusion. And he's very afraid of spiders. I mean really. Afraid of dying and afraid of spiders, who gave this person a weapon? He should be collecting stamps.
Please talk some sense into this man-child, he's about to get himself kilt in all the wrong ways. I'm afraid if he forces us to chop his head off he'll still be running around the courtyard insisting he's fine.
I envy you your sitting tree, it looks lovely. Hope to visit you there after the repairs are made!
Happy Travels,
Cyren