A figure shrouded by the folds of a large, woolen cloak passes by the wall of messages. He glances over them and chews his lower lip lightly in thought for a moment. Finally, he sets the heavy pack that was over one shoulder down and retrieves a piece of parchment and a bit of charcoal from one pouch. Sitting for a moment at a near table, he writes quickly in a neat, deft hand, soon tacking his message up with the others and disappearing into the crowd as silently as he came.
Avlantia~
I fear there's some small business I must see to that will call me away for a short time. I will return near next week's end, however, should you still wish to attend the opera. It is the second week of the performance run, so perhaps the crowds will have thinned out enough by that time to suit both our tastes. Leave me a message if such would suit you.
Aaralyn~
I am sorry I did not get to see you again before I must depart. I wanted to wish you at least two broken legs in person, but I suppose this note will have to do. Shine brightly, Song.
~With care, Agarlin
Avlantia~
I fear there's some small business I must see to that will call me away for a short time. I will return near next week's end, however, should you still wish to attend the opera. It is the second week of the performance run, so perhaps the crowds will have thinned out enough by that time to suit both our tastes. Leave me a message if such would suit you.
Aaralyn~
I am sorry I did not get to see you again before I must depart. I wanted to wish you at least two broken legs in person, but I suppose this note will have to do. Shine brightly, Song.
~With care, Agarlin
