Letter Send, Hope Lend [Cath]

This. This would certainly be an interesting conversation. Not even a conversation. He could see how it would play out in his head. Daymar; I sent a letter to your father that your sister found and now she is here. Here as in Dalibor. However hey, your family loves you. Congratulations. I mean I’m sorry. I mean. And then he would probably be pummeled to death by a mug. He had almost—almost—brought Xiro’el with him; he had seen the Trader doing his nightly running of himself to death on his way over to the Barracks, but somehow he doubted this news would go best with a fresh cup of naked Trader. Even if Sebolaren was certain that the silvertongued man could easily contain any rage that Daymar would fly into without hurting him: Whereas the ex-Herder was only used to containing fourteen-hundred pound animals.

He sighed softly as he strode down the long hallway that was the male-side of the Candidates Barracks; his boot heels a staccato on the thick stone. There really was no way around this. Daymar would find his sister—or she him—and he would find out why his sister was here, and then he would certainly be bludgeoned to death if the Candidate found out that he had withheld the knowledge from him. He deserved more than that—especially with how supportive he had been those days ago. Of course his reaction was not the only thing that Sebol mulled over; if Xiro’el chose an improper moment to send Sigard back to his bonded—well; things would become far more interesting—far too quickly.

Hopefully the Trader would have been able to piece together the images the Blue bore and gotten the general idea, but that didn’t take into account the Blue’s own renegade nature which was still being trained out of him—or into him if Xiro’el was doing the usual. A soft sigh as he pulled up alongside that worn doorway. Well—there was no way around it at this point, yes? Reylia had seemed excited to see her brother; an honestly genuine expression of pleasure that she had found him, and she had said that Mandanres was proud—which Daymar would want to know: Needed to know. So yes. It had to be done; and it would be done now.

Steeling himself he pushed the door open and strode into the room, a glance telling him that the man was here; he closed the solid wood behind him and then leaned against it casually; his arms crossing. His face adopted a quiet pleasantness—as if he would be discussing only the weather with his room-mate, or perhaps might be telling him that every firelizard had suddenly gone between never to return; Certainly from his face there could only be good news for Daymar. In his heart he hoped this would be the case. ”Do you have a moment? It concerns the letters.”