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[throughbamboo]

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[throughbamboo]

[at the very least, Kenny won't force people inside as long as they're on the Hotel property. Which means Nue can sit outside having a smoke, while idly chipping away at a piece of wood he found]

[brokenboar]

[thank you for not stinking up the hotel

Dumbass's footsteps are surprisingly light as he walks up, and he stops a small distance away.]

What are you carving.

[throughbamboo]

[he tips his head back to look up at him]

Hrm, not too sure yet. 'M just gettin' the beginnin' bits outta the way.

[he takes one last drag on his cigarette and puts it out, then nods to the spot next to him] Wanna sit? Maybe you can gimme an idea.

[brokenboar]

[he pauses to think about it. then, a little sheepishly, slinks over to sit down.]

An idea?

[throughbamboo]

Mmm, there anythin' ya seen lately that ya think would make a nice sculpture?

[brokenboar]

[a metal monster is not nice--]

Nice?...

...I was introduced to a strange fruit called a pine apple. Its shape was unlike anything I'd seen before, almost armoured.

[throughbamboo]

[it totally could be-]

Hooh? They got pineapples here?

[but that counts, so he's already startin' to make one]

[brokenboar]

Yes. In the large grocer's market. The rabbit introduced me to it when he was coercing me into aiding him.

[throughbamboo]

[pauses, glancing over]

Coercin' ya to aid him doin' what?

[brokenboar]

Reaching tall shelves.

[throughbamboo]

[his lips twitch]

I just pick him up if he looks like he needs help.

[brokenboar]

He complains a lot for one so small.

[Dumbass shifts in his seat awkwardly, hands balling into fists. he stares at the ground.]

In truth I have come with a request for you, as well.

[throughbamboo]

He's got a lot of words to get out.

[he glances over, head tilted, before he lowers his work and shifts to give the kid his full attention]

Whatcha need, kid?

[brokenboar]

[the words are hard to say. he feels foolish, even if he knows Nue wouldn't see it that way.]

I have written... a letter. But I require your help in delivering it.

[throughbamboo]

Hooh? I can do that for ya.

[no questions, especially since he can see how awkward he seems] Where do ya need me to deliver it?

[brokenboar]

Have you seen a young woman with white hair and lavender eyes? Rather small, but... imperious.

[throughbamboo]

Mmm, I taught her how ta use her phone. Nemmie, I think?

[brokenboar]

"Nemmie"?

[throughbamboo]

[omg that face]

S'what she said, yeah.

[brokenboar]

[his lip curls in visible disgust]

That's the name she chose for herself? Ridiculous...

[throughbamboo]

[his lips twitch]

Says the kid who answers to "Dumbass".

[brokenboar]

[hey]

That's hardly the same thing.

[throughbamboo]

It's close enough.

[brokenboar]

She's affectionately shortened the name of our history's most notorious ruler.

Nemesis, the King of Liberation - the madman whose greed and cruelty had to be put down by the Saints, and drove the Goddess from the land.

[throughbamboo]

. . . well, that's a lil' different, then.

[brokenboar]

Tch. What is she even trying to say with a name like that?

[he huffs out an offended growl. honestly if anyone was going to name themselves after nemesis it should be him?]

Worthless to try and contemplate... Here.

[hands Nue a letter - it is on your typical lined paper, but rolled up like a scroll.]

[throughbamboo]

Hrm . . . I ain't defendin' nothin', but maybe someone else gave her the name. Still, ain't a great king to take a name from.

[takes it, giving it a brief look before tucking it carefully into a pocket inside his coat]

So this is for her, then?

[brokenboar]

[turns out it was majima's fault]

I would ask that you do not lay eyes on it, but I cannot verify such a thing. In such a case, keep it to yourself.

[throughbamboo]

If it's private, then it ain't none of my business. I won't look.

[brokenboar]

[he nods. he did imagine that Nue would be that sort of man]

I did... my best. To convey my thoughts.

[throughbamboo]

Mmm . . . y'seem like the type to get it out proper when ya gotta.

[brokenboar]

[shakes his head]

I am out of practice. And I am not... accustomed to writing from a place of-- precariousness.

[throughbamboo]

Ain't 'bout practice, kid. S'about gettin' it out at all.

Not a lot of people can manage that.

[brokenboar]

No - the art of composing a letter is to be exact in your words, so that matters of import cannot be misinterpreted. One has the opportunity to contemplate over every word before it is given.

To that end, it is... good, given my moods.

[throughbamboo]

[a thoughtful hum, then a slow nod]

That's a fair point. Never really thought 'bout it that way.

. . . but I bet it's good for ya.

[brokenboar]

...We will see.

[he hangs his head a little, some of his anxiety bleeding through]

I would offer to repay you for this errand, but I have nothing that might interest you.

[throughbamboo]

[shakes his head a bit]

Ya don't gotta worry 'bout that, s'plenty that ya trust me to do it.

[brokenboar]

[gets up from his seat,]

You are a man of honour, Nue. I am certain of that much, at least.

[throughbamboo]

[smiles a bit]

Heh. I'll give it to her first thing in the mornin'.

[brokenboar]

Thank you.

[with that, he shuffles off... to do whatever the hell he does instead of sleep like a normal person]

THE LETTER:
<details><summary>To the Emperor of Adrestia,</summary> for whom I need no alternate means of address. For no other feels sufficient in conveying both the gravity of your sins, nor my loathing. <i>I despise you. You have cost me all that I love.</i> I must express this before I begin, to expunge it quickly lest my quill is diverted from its task. My penmanship has suffered for lack of practice. Nevertheless, it has allowed me this necessary rumination. To the heart of the matter: it has been advised to me by this man that it would be a disservice to the dead not to learn the entirety of your motives. In my more lucid hours, I do acknowledge this... Though I have dedicated years of my life to investigating the truth of the Tragedy, it does not explain how the girl I met all those years ago at Lord Arundel’s mansion became the Flame Emperor. Should I accept that even then, you may have been lying to me?... Or perhaps you will simply lie now, to exonerate yourself. <s>In good conscience I know you cannot be believed and it is a fool’s errand to try You are a poison Every breath you breathe is a concession from me You are</s> I cannot yet know what foul humour will overtake me; whether I am to drown in a sea of my own dark and bitter cruelty, or be crushed beneath an immovable despair. From within the cage of my mind, these feel like the only outcomes remaining to me. I will even confess to you that I am frightened. It is a dreadful, oppressive thing to be at your mercy, for the shadow of an axe above one's head does greater pain than the executioner's swing. I am already nothing. What lower sphere still awaits those too broken to live? One more thing I will confess: at Gronder, it was not madness that took me in that final moment, but despair. I had the opportunity to retreat back into isolation, having lost all those who were still loyal to me. <i>I chose to die.</i> I do not think, in your state of retreat, that you noticed. I will end this now, as I am falling into melancholy - a state even more pitiful than rage. Doubtless I will hear from you, whether I wish it or not. [the letter is not signed.]</details>

[throughbamboo]

[he will not read the letter, as promised. It isn't his business and he isn't the nosy sort.

So, Nue just picks up his chisel and hammer to resume his new project]