Pen Pals, Part 1: Earlier This Morning

Tyalangan

The mail came in by the time that Tyalangan woke up from her reverie; the notification was the first thing on her tablet. Mail is a bit complicated, as she adamantly refused to build Backstage access to her home; in fact, she warded the castle to make extraplanar traffic more difficult. So, in the pre-dawn light, she is in the Harem Hotel retail store across the park from the castle, asking Little Miss for the packet of letters. The pink haired cat-girl (that is not a cat-girl) grumbles as she pulls out the package, still in her emerald green pajamas. The sea elf leaves a tip of a small sack of gold. The store manager snags the money and politely shoves Tyalangan out.

She sorts the mail as she walks back to the Harem wing. In the personal category: a few from Andy for her, a letter for Nyadia, one for Daphne, a couple for Scarlet, another for Alex, a couple for Skye. In the professional category: one for Mattie and another for herself. It looks like Mona wrote and got a response, too. She’ll pop into the Mistress Suite when Mona heads to the morning meeting to drop that letter off. There is no need to pre-screen it; she trust her pen pal to steer her correctly.

First stop is Skye and Aelene’s room. Her little drow wife needs to be freed of her rope transformation. This time, she straddles Skye’s face and uses her fingers to tease Skye’s little purple button. Her wife, feeling the **** of her transformation, laps at Tyalangan’s sex like a woman driven mad. Aelene watches, rubbing herself. Curling a finger into Skye’s moist underdark, Tyalangan beckons Aelene to come closer with another; the sea elf and high elf share a kiss, tender at first, passionate as Skye brings the queen to the brink. A little succubus kiss power to one wife, a little finger magic for the other, and the three cum simultaneously. It takes a few moments for everyone to come down.

“Morning, Skye,” Tyalangan greets as she scoots back.

“Morning, my lady loves,” Skye replies, resting her head on Tyalangan’s thigh. She notices the letters being held. “What are those?”

“Letters from Emi and Emily. And a letter from Erin for Nyadia. Can you deliver hers for me?”

Skye smiles and nods. Tyalangan tastes herself on Skye’s lips, then shares the taste with Aelene. After that, she is off.

Next stop is the Scarlet/Daphne/Alex room. While Scarlet and Alex don’t exactly sleep anymore, Daphne is probably still dreaming of growing egg sacs and squid. A light rap on the door, and Scarlet opens it.

“Hey, love, you are out and about early,” Scarlet whispers.

“You three got mail from Andy’s set. Enjoy,” Tyalangan whispers back.

“Thanks, dudette!” Alex shouts, a little too loud, from the bed. She is usually stuck in the middle of both a mermaid and an oread ****-grip cuddle.

“5 more minutes,” Daphne mumbles, squeezing Alex tightly. Alex makes some gurgling noises as Tyalangan waves and walks away.

Finally, she heads to her office. The show-runner is mashing it’s face into the computer, transcribing events for the website. She settles down for her personal letters. She could use some happier thoughts after the pain of the first night. She’ll save her letter from Arabella for tonight, probably dragging Mattie in here to take in her letter’s reply as well.

Both letters are, of course, from Andy. She opens the first one, shaking her head at Arabella’s censorship:

Dear Harper — or Tyalangan, I suppose, though you'll always be Harper to me first — [The Consort] is sitting next to me as I write this and has asked me to tell you that she spent approximately forty-five seconds being skeptical of the return address before I explained who you were, at which point she immediately decided she liked you. She then spent another minute examining the claws with the expression of a person who has just been handed evidence that the universe has a sense of humor. She's wearing them now. I'm not going to stop her.

Thank you for freezing time to write properly. I suspect I know what that costs, especially with a new season underway, and I don't take it lightly. I hope Mona's second date went better than her first. If it helps, the protein powder arrived safely and has been placed somewhere Sam cannot find it, which is to say somewhere Sam will absolutely find it within the week.

The congratulations mean more coming from you than from almost anyone else, because you know what it actually is. The real thing, with all the weight and strangeness that comes with it. You were the first person outside this island who felt like they genuinely understood what I was describing when I wrote about [The Consort], and I want you to know that mattered more than I said at the time.

[The Consort] wants to add something here. I'm going to transcribe as accurately as I can:

The part about not being poison. I've been told versions of that by several people since I [arrived], and I believe it more each time, but the way you said it — like it was simply a fact and not a reassurance — landed differently. Thank you for that. Also, Andy told me about Skye's wedding and the forgotten priestess and I want you to know that Inanna also essentially crashed ours uninvited and performed the whole thing by deciding it was already happening, so I feel we have more in common than Andy's correspondence would suggest.

She's right about that. I keep thinking about what you wrote — that you know a thing or two about divinity declaring you bound. It helps to hear it described as good by someone who's lived it for longer than a week.

The land. Harper. We sat with the deed for a long time after we read the letter. [The Consort] kept looking at the tiny painted cows. I don't know yet whether it will be a vacation home or something more permanent — that question feels too large to answer right now, in the middle of everything — but knowing it exists, that there's a place in the world that's ours to build on, is something I didn't know I needed until I had it. I'll have Arabella send along Chloe's designs when the time comes.

On the subject of the rest of the harem: I have not forgotten. We have a plan, in fact. I won't say more than that in a letter, but I think by the time you read this the shape of it will probably be visible from wherever you're watching.

Nine hundred daughters. I'm going to be thinking about that number for a while.

Please give our love to Skye, to Scarlet, and to Alex, whose letter and plushies [The Consort] is treating as sacred objects. Also, [The Consort] would like me to formally request that Eilistraee and Inanna should never be introduced. She says this while making a face that suggests she absolutely wants it to happen. And please give Daphne a hug — she's going to have opinions when she sees who else wrote us this time.

Thank you, Harper. For everything.

Andy Cooper

Master, The HH — Current Season

Masters Support Group — Founding Member

And [Mrs.] Cooper, who is choosing to use that name for the first time right now in this postscript because it seemed like the right moment.

Tyalangan smiles. She is truly happy for the two of them. It’s nice to be appreciated as well. She addresses her camera:

“I do not mind my pen pal calling me by my old name, Andy. Spending a century having most people speak to me in Elvish for work makes me forget about Common too often. And I am glad that your wife approves of me. It would have been devastating if she did not. I suppose I should get Skye to forge her a matching set of armor. I think the kangaroo motif would serve her best. What would Andi, Koala Warrior Princess be without her trusty sidekick?”

“If Sam likes it once she finds it, I feel I should direct her to Josie’s supplement company website. She has subscriptions options.” Tyalangan sticks out her tongue for a moment.

“I mean, I technically invited Eilistraee to officiate my first wedding. And she waited until she was invoked by the priestess for the other weddings, so The Moonlit Dancer can appreciate invitations when she feels like it. She does like to crash family worship, though. She is usually pretty fun, but has a real mean left hook.”

“You are quite welcome for the land. It’s good to be the queen. And I do approve of your plan, from what I can grasp of it at the moment. I’m sure Claire has everything mapped out in exquisite detail.”

“If 900 bunny-girls is worth thinking about, Honey’s offspring is in the mid hundred thousands right now. I will share your well-wishes. I expect a wedding invite or two. Eilistraee might even crash it; we’ll see. You are welcome, Andy, for everything I can claim to have done for you. And thank you for everything.”

Tyalangan flips one of her screens monitoring sleeping contestants to play Andy’s letter reading. Hardric wrote to Andy? He got snagged by the Hotel? Huh. Well, it could be worse. Could of been that Gina girl Daphne’s been trying to impress.

Being aware of the potential issue, Tyalangan turns to the other personal letter:

Dear Tyalangan,

I'm writing this letter on Katherine's behalf. She's been standing across from me for the better part of an hour working out what she wants to say, so what follows is my best attempt at an accurate transcription. I'll flag where I'm guessing.

The books arrived safely and are on the lectern. Katherine's reaction when they came out of the envelope was — and I want to be precise here — one of the most unguarded things I have seen from her since I arrived on this island. She went very still for a moment, then pressed both hands to her mouth, which is what she does when something has gotten past the part of her that's learned to be careful about hoping for things. She has already started the first one. She refuses to let me tell you which it is, which I think means it's either embarrassing or wonderful, possibly both.

She wants me to tell you that the offer of help means more than she knows how to say, she heard it, and she's keeping it. I'm paraphrasing, but she nodded when I read that back to her, so I think it's accurate.

She also wants me to tell you that she thinks about you too. She made the gesture she uses for gratitude, then held it longer than usual, which I've learned means she means it more than the gesture normally carries.

On the subject of Samson: Arabella confirmed the treats are fine, with the caveat that she described gas station cuisine as "eclectic" and suggested we monitor him for approximately twenty minutes afterward just in case. He had no such concerns and demolished the entire package in under a minute. He is currently asleep, and his legs are twitching like he's dreaming. The fox saliva wrapping has been relocated to the bin by [The Consort], who said, and I'm quoting directly, "absolutely not."

He is, as you correctly identified, a very good boy.

With warmth and thanks, on Katherine's behalf and my own —

Andy

“I’m glad Katherine and Samson enjoyed their gifts. Again, let me know what else I can do to help Katherine. Then again, the way Andy’s gifts are going, Arabella might give him the ability to reverse it himself. Wishing for your best, Katherine.”

Tyalangan leans back. A request from another season hits her network e-mail. The sea elf scans it. Well, that needs a quick turn around. Glad to help, but, phew, I need to make a bunch of arrangements ASAP. And the Host gets to work.

Nyadia

Nyadia got a letter from Skye before she heads out for her morning check of the garden. She sees the torn out Gwinwydden Gafael and notes there are more of them deeper into garden. Time to do some pruning. I should get Mattie to help. She probably has a “fun new way” of applying pesticide or something she’ll want to test.

She continues onto a small copse of Coedgolau Coeden, basking in their glow, then sits to read her letter:

Hey Nyadia,

First off, 95 years is wild. I'm sitting here eating a donut less than two hours after reading your letter, and from your perspective I've apparently been doing that for almost three months. Time dilation is deeply unfair and I am choosing not to think about it too hard.

Thank you for writing. I don't get a lot of mail from people who lead with "you have a decent green thumb" instead of some variation of "wow, the boobs," so you're already off to a better start than most. (To be clear, I know what Mattie's nickname means and I've made my peace with it. It's hard to argue with someone who sent me a functional firearm as a gift. She's earned the right to call me whatever she wants.)

I didn't realize the seeds I sent would turn into a whole garden. I'm genuinely a little overwhelmed by that. I sent them because it felt right — I'm part plant now, I grow things when I'm nervous, I had some to spare — but the idea that they've been growing for decades in another world and that someone has been tending them... I don't really have the words for that. I'm not good at being gracious about things that matter, so I'll just say: I'm glad they ultimately went to you. It sounds like you gave them a better home than Mattie could have.

The statue is a whole separate thing I'm going to need time to process. Tell Mattie thank you, and also that I'm horrified, and also that I love it.

The creature on the cactus mug is indeed a tiger. The cactus in the mug is Sir Spikes. He lives in my bedroom and requires nearly no maintenance.

The seeds arrived safely and they are extraordinary. I don't know what I'm going to do with all of them yet, but I'll figure it out. I've been building a place here — the Verdant Arches, I call it, just a hollow in the garden — and when I get home, I think I want to build something real. Somewhere that's mine. Your letter arrived at exactly the right time to make that feel possible instead of just theoretical.

About your P.S.: Riley is bad with plants in the same way that a black hole is bad at keeping things around. I rescued the sapling within twenty-four hours. It is currently in my Sanctuary, away from her, and it is doing fine. I'm watering it and I refuse to tell her where it is until she can prove she understands what "weekly, not daily" means.

Congratulations on your marriage. And on the garden. And on all of it.

Erin Delgado

Harem Queen (apparently)

P.S. What's a lazzorkat? I've been trying to figure it out from context and the best I've got is "feline and dangerous."

“Cyfarchion Erin. I choose not to think about time dilation. It makes my head hurt.”

“I am glad to break expectations. I might technically have more breastflesh than you, but it’s spread across 3 pairs instead of one. As one that is used to attracting attention with my breasts (my kind are the only 6-breasted species in our town), I did not think to point out yours. I will NOT be telling Mattie she’s earned the right to call you whatever. She uses nicknames as coping mechanisms and that would encourage her to not put in the self-care work to get over her traumas.”

“As far as the garden goes, Mattie built the plants a home; I am just the one to make sure they are being taken care of. It is a duty I am happy to have. I am glad to hear that you’ve started on one of your own. I hope my contribution will help when you have a place for a permanent one. Thank you for taking care of the sapling for me.”

“Let me know when your child is born and I will bring the traditional slain boar as an offering. You can examine me then, if you have not found a book on my kind in your cat-girl’s library. But ‘feline’ and ‘dangerous’ are two apt descriptors for me.”

Nyadia folds the letter and pockets it back in her inventory. She stands and stretches, finishing her morning garden walk. The rest of the plants are doing well. Life is good.