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#Kitt Kaleen

“I have known her longer, my smile said. True, you have been inside the circle of her arms, tasted her mouth, felt the warmth of her.. but there is a part of her that is only for me. You cannot touch it, no matter how hard you might try. And after she has left you I will still be here, making her laugh. My light shining in her. I will still be here long after she has forgotten your name.”

― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

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Kitt’s scribbling a quick message on the back of a photo. Sighing she looks up at the Moogle staring over her shoulder.

“Is there no place you lot won’t go to deliver a letter?” 

The Moogle whirls in a circle, executing a sketchy little bow. 

“No Ma’am.”



As you will see, I am alive and well. No idea how you hijacked a moogle to find me here in the Empty. Well played friend, well played. I’m intrigued by these rumors you mention, and tho’ the idea of being around people is repulsive, I will meet you in Mord Souq. Bring your own liquor and a little something for me? I don’t trust anything the Mord put into a glass.

See you at moonrise, 

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To the edge of the earth
To the ends of this world
I’m gonna find you (Ooh-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooh)
Is it a blessing or curse
For better or worse
I’m gonna find you (Ooh-oo-oo-oo-ooh)
When you lay down to sleep
When you’re lost in a dream
Still I will find you (Ooh-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooh)
Whisper my final words
Down in the dirt
That’s where they’ll find you

Shots fired

- Laney Jones, Shots Fired

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Kitt writes, off in the corner of the mess tent, ink well and quill to hand, a glass of something she’s been told is “good wine” but tastes more like vinegar. There’s a few grainy photos on the table, she sifts through, choosing one where she isn’t killing something. Rare moments. 

My Dear Edmont, 

As promised, I am writing to keep you updated about my various antics, which hopefully will bring a smile. When last we spoke I shared I was off to the Bozjan Southern Front. You’ll ask, ‘whatever for?’ I know, because I ask myself the same. The Bozjan Resistance is of course funding the endeavor, and I would walk out of my way to cull the Legion, probably for pleasure alone. Truly though? I yearned for a change of place and space.

The trip here was a comedy of errors, the lack of clarity and assistance to arrive in Bozja does not bear repeating (’tis boring too!) Upon arrival, I must say I was unprepared for this region. I could not say what I was expecting, but certainly not this latrine of a land. There is nothing redeeming about it. ‘Tis bleak, barren, dusty, full of magitek bits and bobs, and endless vermin, creatures great and small. Still the Bozjan’s fight for what is rightly their own.

Travel does not improve upon arrival in Bozja. Moving about is exceeding slow and tiresome, invariably resulting in more vermin, more fighting, more dirt, more blood (not mine!) As for the facilities … I’ve yet to see bath, shower or bed.

I believe the Resistance are keen to make use of the Echo. I wish them the well of it, ‘tis a capricious talent at best. There was some small lure that should I agree to aid them, rewards aplenty would come to me. So far I have a few interesting med’cines and potions and pocket full of magicked prisms (a seemingly endless number of party favors on the battlefield. Ironic, no?) I was assured my weapons would be suitably upgraded were I to assist the Resistance, and of course, that’s always a good reason to be helpful. What they failed to tell me was I would needs repeat endless patrols and skirmishes collecting ‘memories’ to get them. Laugh if you will, I certainly have. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. 

You will want to know if I am well (I am) and if I am happy (I am busy, which is the next best thing) and whether I need for anything (for all that is holy, please send Ishgardian tea and some decent wine!) I promise to write again when I am more settled, who knows, perhaps I will change my mind about the place (tho I gravely doubt it!)

Much love to you and my Ishgardian brothers. Stay well.


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