I've heard before that the world does in fact wait for us. But knowing Ravka, I can't help but assume that everything has gone right to hell in my absence. The word of a dear friend, though, gives me hope.
[On the other hand...]
Is it arrogance or delusion if I hope that somehow I'll remember anyway?
I'm sure we've all a handful of things we'd like to remember from this place, despite ourselves. Perhaps I'll begin keeping a short list of names in my pocket, in anticipation of vanishing abruptly again!
[No. But maybe, also? Might be cool to just take the memirror home, but hmmmm...]
I would need to hire a tailor to make my pockets much deeper if I were to carry around all that I intend to remember. I've a number of journals I've filled with notes that I intend to make use of when I return to Ravka.
There are some things, of course, that can't be put into pockets.
I'm sorry. A wildly unhelpful thing for me to say, but true nevertheless.
[The next bit he hesitates to plunk down into words, but Constantin had said he could turn to him with...such matters. Love...who said anything about love? Haha, you're so goofy, Kostya...]
I should consider myself fortunate that Alina and I at least call the same world home. My luck runs out there, though. She's already another man's wife.
Our arrangement, as you so artfully put it, is another thing I can't sneak into my pocket and take with me.
The complication is that Alina as she is here is from my past, and I'm from her future. Three years separate us. Saints know what we will or won't remember. Or if we'll ever be on the same page again.
[By which he means something more like I don't know if she would choose me again.]
Also, I'm fairly certain Mal would have no qualms committing regicide over this.
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[On the other hand...]
Is it arrogance or delusion if I hope that somehow I'll remember anyway?
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[It's both, congratulations. Still--]
I'm sure we've all a handful of things we'd like to remember from this place, despite ourselves. Perhaps I'll begin keeping a short list of names in my pocket, in anticipation of vanishing abruptly again!
[No. But maybe, also? Might be cool to just take the memirror home, but hmmmm...]
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There are some things, of course, that can't be put into pockets.
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[Great news, buddy: it sucks!! Look forward to it! Anyway, back to jokes:]
Perhaps you could send Malachite a polite note and ask them to put your books in the post. ✉
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[The next bit he hesitates to plunk down into words, but Constantin had said he could turn to him with...such matters. Love...who said anything about love? Haha, you're so goofy, Kostya...]
I should consider myself fortunate that Alina and I at least call the same world home. My luck runs out there, though. She's already another man's wife.
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And yet.]
Well, that doesn't matter until you leave here, does it? Though you are much purer of heart than I am.
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Why, what would you do in my shoes?
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[but he's going to go home and punch god for his lunch money because he fuckin wants it, so like, Whatever He Wants-- okay, new angle.]
Do you not already have some manner of Arrangement for dalliances? How is a man she married somewhere else a complication?
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The complication is that Alina as she is here is from my past, and I'm from her future. Three years separate us. Saints know what we will or won't remember. Or if we'll ever be on the same page again.
[By which he means something more like I don't know if she would choose me again.]
Also, I'm fairly certain Mal would have no qualms committing regicide over this.
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[Buddy... pal...]
Well, do not, as it has been far too long to "it slipped my mind" about it now!