Hope Forever

A Handsome Recommend

Enmae sat at her writing desk in her room, a small room with wooden floors, a bed and a simple closet. She had too many dresses to fit properly in the closet. They stuck out in strange ways. There was a window. It provided no view. On the other side of the glass pane framed a light well.

Enmae read the letter. It was strange. Possibly the strangest letter she had received. She pondered it. She scoffed. She played with her feather ink pen. She had no idea how to respond. She let out a long sigh and rubbed her temple with a pale slender hand. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders as she had not yet pinned it up for the day. She was still stumped on the letter and was determined to decode the meaning of such a thing.

It was inventive, attempting refinement. It seemed to just be sloppy. The letters sprawled in a careless manner. Curt, so short. Lacking information and sophistication. It was appalling. Enmae had half a mind to not respond. She could not gather if it was with serious intent. It seemed somewhat flippant in nature. It was astonishingly arrogant to say the least, expecting  her reply.

Ename,

I write to inform you that your cousin implored I offer an evening of my company. I think I may enjoy the opportunity. Please correspond with your availability.

~Lord Dragonheart

He was daringly presumptuous that she would even want to join him. He was in the same manner Serilda described him, a rascal. He was impudent to think she would cordially respond. He didn't address her correctly, she was Miss Miller to him! Addressing her so casually, and with a misspelled name at that, would not escape her wrath. And his own pen name was simply preposterous: Lord DragonHeart? That was not his name and it certainly was not a sir name she had ever heard. She would play his game and rebuke his nonchalance with wit– Only for the wager between herself and Serilda of course. She was determined to win both games that had been set afoot. With a spark of motivation she had not felt for some time, and perhaps even excitement, she lifted her feathered quill to pen a response of great persiflage.

Sir Cassius Heart,

I do apologize for the use of your true name as was told to me by my dear cousin. I should like to play your doltish game but cannot find it in me to be quite as asinine. Surely a self proclaimed 'Lord' would understand as such from a Lady.

In regard to your inquiry, before I surrender an evening of my own I should see to it that I know the events of such an occasion. I am rather busy of late and should like to reserve my time and energies.

Sincerely,

Miss Miller

She laughed gleefully as she folded the paper. For a moment she dared to leave a stain of rouge on the paper as another jest. She decided against it however and simply ran upstairs and left it on the tray for the mail carrier to retrieve when he made his rounds. In almost an hour he would be there and taking back her scathing letter would be too late.

As soon as she dropped the letter on the plate, a strange thing occurred. The letter disappeared. Starting at the edges it dissolved in faint amber, almost as if burned very quickly. Yet no smoke lingered behind the letter's departure.

Enmae stared at it. Letters she had sent had not done this before. She examined the plate, lifting, and turning it around. She ran and grabbed a sheet of paper and set it on the tray. Nothing. How odd. There was magic in her reply somehow? How did it disappear? Had it gone to Sir Heart, or just gone?