Dispatches-From-Amaurot

A Mostly IC Digest by Aellae Neru

  • She/They

Our name is Aellae on Discord.

Legatus Frumentarius Erat
Shard of Igeyorhm
Mildly Majorly Burnt Out Writing Catte
Bearer of Resting Villain Face

Feel Free to Send Those Asks!
Interact with me? Yes, I luv it
Mare - B4ENK65XV4


DISPATCH FROM AMAUROT - SCRIBENS MENSE PRO FFXIV
0849 BELLS - DIE 5 - ASTRAL MOON 5:

SUBJECT:
Regarding Hooks And Wriggling Free Of Them(C.W. Loss, Emotional Pain)
POLICY: Cotidiana Submission


Off The Hook


The woman let her eyes drift closed. This was never going to get any easier. There was no way around the matter. She stared at the letter in her hands one more time. Her jaw clenching as her grip tightened on the envelope. The embossed seal of the unbroken chain in the paper pressing to her thumb and forefinger.

Domina Tacitus,

It is with profound regret that I set pen to paper. Marcus eir Tacitus was killed in the execution of his duties to Emperor and Nation. This loss is profound, please know that there are many people around you who wish to offer their support.

Marcus was a caring man, a strong member of my command and looked up too by his cohort. His smile and confidence shall be deeply missed. I know all must mourn in their own fashion and time, but all our hearts go out to you.

Marcus was always swift to step forward and lead. His was a voice that spoke as a font of good advice and clever ideas. He was ever willing to aid and assist his fellow soldiers in service. He never let his cohort, or indeed, this command down. Just as we know he never let his family down, he faced life with no regrets.

It was my sincere honer and privilege to have your husband in my command. He inspired bravery and compassion in those around him. Please let me know if there is any way I can support you and yours.

With Warmest Regards,
Aellae van Neru


She knew every word within the confines of that letter. Every key stroke of her typewriter and syllable. The flowing curve of her signature that she signed with. It galled her. It disgusted her. The letter in her hand. It felt so hollow, but what more could she offer? She could feel the bile in her stomach rebel against what she had to do. Could she have pawned the duty off onto a tribune in her command? Yes. But it was always on her orders. It didn't matter how the mission had erred. It didn't matter which member of her command had made a misstep. The gil stopped with her. It was her order, her word that had sent them to the field.

There was no freedom from this duty. The barbs of this hook were set deep and there was no escape from responsibility. Command was her privilege, and her burden. The snow swirled from the heavens in a flurry as she approached the house in the north east of the Regio Domorum. Her knuckles rasped against the door. The crimson shako of her dress uniform was tucked under her left arm. The letter clasped still in her right hand.

The door opened. The last chance of reprieve was spent. The silver that so often lined her tongue abandoned her. Leaving her with a feeble command of her language to bear this painful duty.

"Domina Tacitus..." There was more to say, and yet her tone, her expression. Everything was spoken in those two words. The woman before her reached with a shaking hand to take the letter.


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