The Affair of Countess Sonya

Charmante- A Letter From Iverson.

Utter a word, construct a phrase, conjure a sentence, or prattle on with paragraphs. Yet, the true meaning only falls on deaf ears. You will never hear a word cry, you will never hear it laugh.

Suppose, however, it calls. Suppose you may see in between the lines, the cracks, seeping through sadness. What to do about an unfaithful words? To live in a world where words defined emotion would be undeniably, simply spectacular.

Do you question that which you don't know? Do you dare set foot into uncharted lands, beholding striking moral dilemmas? For what if we really did control what appeared televised to others?

To posses an innate ability to convince all that your guise is truth. Perhaps, you could even convince yourself that you are truly aloof or unshaped by the world?

Along the edges of a book's page, between the spaces of its paragraphs, in the breaks of sentences. They flutter as you brush past them, skimming the writing in bored curiosity. Hidden between the words you will find just that, dramaturgy.

The truly harrowing, and coldly unfeeling narrative of Miss Love Reynolds. A world in which she is ironically deprived of it, of passion. Walking the city streets with aimless steps. Young Miss Reynolds performs commands robotically, obeying only her code. She paces the pavement in silence. She, a shrewd young thing, would be the last person to appear before a Countess of all people. The poor dear, destitute really.

Countess Sonya Moyer, a warm, but bitingly arrogant young woman. Betrothed but uninterested in, pardon my words, her husband's lack of worthwhile qualities. Men being a bore, and a shame to be around, she turns to other avenues. Naturally, the eager an impassioned young woman she is, Noelle was bound to cross paths with the seemingly dull Love.

Little do either of them know their innate abilities. One, having control over the demeanor she puts on, but devoid of what she pretends. Like water she moves as she is guided, unchanging. The other, a catalyst for aspiration, for warmth and fire. Presenting herself as a scathing bonfire, she is overbearing but bold. Naturally, fire and water are soothed only by their counterparts.

The stage is set for a dramatic tale, one of cold, passionate emotion.