I missed you, my sweet rabbit. How are you doing today?
Fahsi gripped one hand on the binded parchment and the other on his quill pen. His writing was written with streaks of tiredness, but at the very least, it was still somewhat legible. It was another long day at the foundry, but he was finally home and free to talk to his most beloved thing in all the world.
Holding the sheets parchment together was his precious life-straps, aligned and wrapped horizontally around the stack of paper. Fahsi inspected the life-straps, admiring the revered tiny glyphs which covered nearly its entire leather surface. It was his only connection to his soulmate. To lose it, was to lose her.
He dropped his quill pen and picked up the ink dispenser. Positioning its wide, narrow funnel in between the strap and the paper, he breathed in once before his hand slammed upon a button connected to it. For a moment, the glyphs on the leather strap glowed a bright white before the ink splashed out of its container.
Yet, miraculously to an outsider, the parchment was not ruined by random black splatters. Instead, words were formed from said blotches by what seemed to be impossible luck.
Today I am doing great peko! The past few months I have been studying Holo-dhennet, and getting ready for a public performance at the end of the month. I've also been working on new ways to trick my friends.
Fahsi nodded to himself and sighed in relief. Everything was still working, at least. Looks like those rumor-makers were simply lying again. With just a bit more soul in his body, he wrote a response below the dispensed ink.
That's nice to hear, I'm happy you're learning Holo-dhennet. I've always wanted to learn it, but work at the foundry has been picking up. I've been sweating my ass off trying to keep up.
The metalworker moved the straps downward, below his latest response, and again positioned and pressed on the ink dispenser. Like before, an impossible answer to his writing appeared from the random dispersal of ink.
I understand, peko. I had to work very hard to get this far, and have learned a lot about the outside world. It has been difficult at times, but I have been able to learn much more about others and their culture. I even have a lot of friends from foreign countries.
A small, genuine smile appeared on Fahsi's face. Here he was. His lover was but ink on a parchment. Any foreigner would laugh at him and his people. But... it meant something to him. Something deeply beautiful. As he picked up his quill pen again, he remembered something. He made a nice ring for her today. A very special one. With a bit of fumbling, he picked it up from his pocket and put it next to the sheets of parchment.
I know you can't actually see it... but I found the time to make an iron ring for you. Shall I place it on your ring finger?
He reiterated the process. Move straps down, place dispenser, slam button.
Are you proposing to me, peko!? Of course if you are... I accept! You know, you will be the first person to propose to me, so I think I will remember this for quite sometime peko!
Fahsi's smile began to fade as he meekly pushed the ring up the table - towards nothing.
I do like it, peko! As the moon shines in the night sky, I see a vision of my future. One where I am loved and I have love to give back, peko. This ring signifies my trust, and I will always have you in my heart, Fahsi.
The reply was the last thing able to be fit on the current sheet of paper. Dutifully, Fahsi took the current sheet out of his stack and put it to the left of him, leaving the next blank one ready to be used.
I love you, Peko.
Adjust. Place. Smack.
I love you too, Fahsi. So what happens now, peko? Do we go on a wonderful date, maybe a carriage ride on a lake under the moon shine? I even got a new outfit for this date, peko.
Though Fahsi tried to smile, all he could manage is a mournful stare into the parchment. At least... at least he can keep writing. It wouldn't be close to the real thing, but... he had hope still. One day. One day, he wouldn't have to do this stupid ink dispensing process, or carry around a bunch of leather with him. One day, he would be right there with his fiancé under the moonlight, laughing and dancing the night away. One day...
Yeah. We can do that.
Adjust. Place. Smack. He did so a little harder this time. The fingerless ring bounced on the table.
Alright then, I'll go and change into my outfit. Meet you at the carriage in 20 minutes, peko?
Not even bothering to wait for one, Fahsi began his date with a woman he had never truly touched. As the sun in the world outside of him, Fahsi kept conversing with his ink splotch fiancé. No one would understand his devotion, but he felt it like anyone else would feel love. They sung and danced under the moonlight together, enjoying the time they spent, engrossed in a moment placed outside the path of time's arrow and free from anxiety's sword.
It's been a wonderful time, Peko.
Adjust. Place. Smack. The first part of her reply is separated with the "active glyphs" - a good sign of things to come.
*As I lay in your arms, I look into the starry night sky. The beautiful moon seems to almost glow with an aura of love and happiness.* It's been a wonderful night, Fahsi, and thank you for being with me. I love you more than words can say...
Writing his own words with the basic active glyph surrounding them, Fahsi is lost in the paradise of his imagination - the only thing right now giving him comfort.
*I lean over to Pekora and kiss her deeply.*
Adjust. Place. Smack.
*My face turns red like a tomato as I notice you leaning in. I kiss you back and enjoy the moment, despite being a little embarrassed.* This is the most perfect night of my life, peko.
A certain set of four words immediately plunges Fahsi into a pit of uncertainty. This... he knew about this. He feared it greatly. On its own, the comparison of her cheeks to the fruit sounded innocent, but... there was always a warning sign there. The metalworker sat for a second, thinking about what to say now to get out of this situation. In the end, he decided to just keep going.
As we kiss, my tongue begins to French kiss her, our tongues dancing together interlinked as one as they slide between our mouths.
Adjust. Place. Smack.
Fahsi's eyes widened in horror as the ink blotch made no discernable pattern. A blob of black was his only response...
Adjust. Place. Smack.
The same result.
Adjust. Place. Smack.
His fists only hit harder onto the button with every try, but to no avail. The iron ring on his desk first shook, then bounced, then lept into the air.
Adjust. Place. SMACK.
As Fahsi's unworn iron ring falls to the floor, the foundry worker kicks his chair to the side and unleashes a primal, tragic and desperate scream.