Magical Correspondence
She is alone. But then again, she had asked to be . Shinki is a polite host, and though their relationship is still a tremulous one at best, she knows that the goddess would never intrude upon her privacy.
The maid, on the other hand, is another matter entirely. A low, barking laugh escapes her throat at the thought of the blonde menace. She had better finish her business quickly, before her landlady's devoted servant becomes irritated at her continued absence.
Spurred by that thought, she plucks up a pen and begins to write.
?Marisa, darling,? she begins.
?It has been some time since out last encounter, has it not??Well, at least, it has been for you. Time passes far slower for one such as myself, as you know. Your years are but a minute for me.' Her hand stops its back and forth motion, and a bright grin flashes like lightning across her face as she realizes just how true those words are. It seems like just yesterday she was teaching Marisa how to flick stars from her fingertips, when in reality, those days have long since passed. A memory, brief and intangible, flashes to the forefront of her mind; a memory filled with laughter and merry golden eyes. Something like nostalgia wells up within her, but the emotion is quickly discarded.
Only lower beings like humans would long for things that can no longer be reached. She is better than that. She has long since ascended...
She does not understand that sometimes, even the 'higher' beings indulge in their reminiscences at times.
Her grin lingers on her face, and a strange mix of happiness and regret is present in her eyes, but eventually her lips soften into a lazy, languorous arc as she remembers Marisa, and the purpose of the letter she is addressing. She begins to write again, neat characters flowing from the nib of her pen.
?While I am sorry that we haven't seen each other since Makai, I?m glad to hear that you?ve been doing well without me. All the things you've achieved since we parted; I want you to know that I'm proud of you, love, no matter the accomplishment. You've seen and done incredible things, I hear, terrible things at times--and I assure you, Marisa, that as long as you're doing the things you love, you won't ever regret doing them, no matter what anyone else says about your habits. So don't you ever question yourself, alright?' A low, wolfish laugh escapes her throat as she finishes the question. While Marisa doesn't need her to explain these things, the girl could get so insecure at times. Her chuckles eventually subside, and she returns to writing.
?Darling, at some point in your long life?I don't know if you know this, but Gensokyans are remarkably long-lived?someone is going to tell you: ?No. You can't do that.? And sweetie, I'll say this now: don't listen to those people. It doesn't matter who they are: it's your life, and they have no right to be telling you what to do with it. Reimu, the puppeteer girl, Yukari?even me. Our opinions don?t matter. Only yours does.'?So live your life, dear. Live your life the way you want to. Live to please yourself, and never others.? She sits in silence for several minutes, unsure if she should write more. Then she shrugs. Might as well scrawl down a few more paragraphs; she hadn't acknowledged the girl's existence in years, after all.
?Marisa. If you ever doubt yourself, ever feel as though you are worth less than someone else, then remember this: I, your mentor, have had many students. Hundreds?no, thousands?have had the privilege to call me their teacher, but your are the only one I have ever acknowledged as my protegee. Out of thousands of capable men and women, you were the only one to meet my standards; surpass them, even.?I?m proud of you, Marisa. Continue to be you. Continue to be free. Continue to piss off Reimu, and Shinki?s daughter--what's her name again? Luigi, right? Well, that doesn't matter--whatever it is you like to do, continue doing it. And remember, no matter what happens, no matter what you do, I?ll always love you.? With a sigh, she signs her name at the bottom of the page, before folding it up and slipping it into an envelope. She doesn't bother to reread her letter, and she doesn't care if it seems choppy; she knows that the thoughts she had just conveyed were as honest as they would ever be. There was no need to edit a thing, lest the new draft loose some of the earnestness she has imbued in it.
She rises, letter in hand, and leaves her chambers. Coincidentally, Shinki?s maid, Muneko or something like that, is in the hallway. She smirks at the servant, then cheekily slips the letter into the blonde's apron as the maid walks by.
Muneko flinches at the cold touch of her pale hand, then seems appalled by her audacity. But she doesn't care. With a flippant wave of her hand, she floats past the maid, not a shred of remorse on her face.
"Be a dear and take that to Gensokyo, okay?? laughs Mima as she catches the flabbergasted expression on Muneko?s face. It?s the last thing Mima sees before she phases through the wall, and back into her bedroom to remain cut off from the rest of world.
Or, at least, until dinnertime.
