The Leaden Correspondence

fiction

Julian, The rosemary is particularly pungent this morning. I spent an hour by the fountain, watching the light catch the water in those tiny, dancing prisms. I noticed a smudge of grey on my left wrist today. It does not wash away with soap or vinegar, nor does it fade with the setting sun. It smells faintly of a thunderstorm, that sharp, clean ozone scent that precedes the rain. I imagine it is simply a lingering effect of the cure. I am sure the physicians in the city will find it a trivial matter, a mere curiosity of the blood. With love, Elara *** Julian, The grey has reached my elbows now. It is not a stain, but a skin. When I move, I can hear it: a soft, metallic rasp. Small flakes of slate-colored dust settle on my linens, like a strange, indoor snowfall. I find I move more slowly now, as if the air has grown thicker or my limbs have grown more honest. There is a certain peace in this weight, Julian. I feel rooted, as if I am finally becoming part of the soil I have always loved. The servants no longer meet my eyes, and the housekeeper insists I use the side entrance, but the silence of the garden is more comforting than it ever was. Please, come visit before the solstice. I wish to tell you about the way the moonlight looks on my arms; it is a soft, matte silver that reminds me of the old coins we used to collect. Always, Elara *** Elara, It is unwise to suggest such a visit. The laws of the Gilded Court are precise for a reason. To allow a Leaden presence within the Golden quarters is not merely a breach of etiquette; it is a risk to the luster. My own skin remains bright, though the maintenance is grueling, requiring constant polishing with oils from the east. I cannot risk the oxidation of my status. To be seen with one who flakes is to invite the gaze of the magistrates. I have sent a chest of coin to ensure your comforts are met in the lower district. I suggest you find a community of your own kind. Do not write to this address again. It is better that we remember each other as we were, before the alchemy decided our worth.