Susanne wrote a letter in her best handwriting.
But instead of a pen or a quill, she was using her greatsword, and the canvas was the air around her.
As she danced, the lines of ink spread from the tip of her blade onto the air.
Everything was smooth here. Her Talent worked as she wished it did in this strange in-between space of non-reality, allowing her to use anything as a quill. But that wasn’t the purpose of Susanne’s dance.
She needed to create, so she did.
She wrote a letter to her past, detailing the hurt and pain her father had caused her family.
She wrote a letter to her mother, wishing she had pushed through a bit longer so she could see her daughter strong, and supporting herself and her brother.
She wrote a letter to her brother, who had been too young to really underst
