Fire Message Fridays: A 'Malevolent Tides' Extra

Betty,

I know you told me not to form an attachment to that Dutch girl from Rotterdam but, alas, I found myself in her bedroom again this weekend. Do not act so scandalised - I can imagine you gasping even now - for you know my ways, at this rate. I know I said I would try to be more serious, but the Dutch are simply the most gorgeous people to walk this world. I was utterly defenseless.

Should I find myself back on the train to Rotterdam this weekend, I am afraid this girl will begin to form an attachment to me, in turn, and that I simply cannot have. I know your parents got married young (weren’t they seventeen? Simply imagine!) but I wish to enjoy my youth before attaching myself to another place or person - which is why I must leave the country.

Yes, leave the country.

I know, I know, I’m meant to spend three months here in Amsterdam! That was my plan!

Never fear, my dear Lizzie - I do not intend to change course so readily. I am but six weeks into my travel year, and I shall not divest from my plan so quickly. I simply must leave this weekend, just this weekend - which, as you probably already guessed, means I will be coming to New York.

I am not asking you for permission; I have already arranged my portal. I am just informing you, so we can meet up if you’re free. I will be staying at the Institute, so prepare a mighty excuse if you intend to avoid me all weekend.

I am excited to hear all about what you and dear Margie have been up to all these months. Margie sent me a picture of her and that beautiful American cowboy named Benjamin in Central Park - what a gorgeous ride (and not just because of the aforementioned cowboy comment - STOP GASPING, it’s me!)

(Destroy this message after you finish reading it. My mother can never find it and read that comment - I will have to change my name and become an Iron Sister if she does.)

Anyways. Margie and that boy - are they romantically involved? They certainly looked like it, with their cameras around their necks and their arms linked together. How precious! A photographer and a journalist - it sounds like one of Aunt Lucie’s books, except if it were, one of them would be dead or murdered or otherwise unavailable…

Speaking of couples: I got the invitation to Owen and Lydia’s wedding. I tried to feel sympathy for you (I really, truly did!) but I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw the date. Why are they getting married so soon? What’s the rush? Margie told me you “lost” your invite in a “demon fighting accident”… honestly, I’m not even going to ask about that one.

Okay, I’ve got to go. I have patrol tonight, boo. I love you, and I’ll see you this weekend unless you think of an excuse to avoid me, you gorgeous, red-headed fox.

Your favourite Fairchild,

Vienna

New York City, USA >>> Amsterdam, the Netherlands

Vienna,

I’m going to ignore your first two paragraphs about the Dutch girl. You keep shining, my love.

I shall not, however, ignore your news about New York - how wonderful! Edmund will be here too, which means your two favourite Blackthorns will be in one place (try not to get too excited!) Margie invited him - she didn’t tell me why, but I think she must be homesick. She has been talking about London and her family a lot, which makes sense. We have been away for eight months, and you know how the Blackthorn siblings are. It’s odd to see one of them on their own - they are all such a part of one another.

On Saturday night, we are going to Benjamin’s sister’s fiancé’s party at his penthouse in Manhattan (he got rich on the mundane stock market! Can you believe that? America is an odd, odd place!) You are, of course, welcome to join. In fact, I shall force you to; I was already dreading this party, and now you can suffer alongside me.

Speaking of Benjamin, he is not a cowboy. I think you might need to look up what a cowboy is - please do not call anyone in New York one. They will spit in your face or show you a rude finger or otherwise grind you down, like this city can sometimes. But I still love it here - it’s so very different to anywhere in Europe. You’ll love it, too!

Speaking of Benjamin and Margie - what makes you think that? They are close - they’re always running around New York taking photographs and interviewing people for their reporting - but they are not romantically involved at all. I’ve never seen them kiss, so much as “ride” one another - I know you don’t consider yourself to be a proper lady, Vienna, but really! This is Margie - she is perhaps the most innocent of all of us. Do let her be.

Owen and Lydia: I don’t want to talk about it.

The invitation: I did “lose” it. Oops. If I don’t know where or when the wedding is, I can hardly attend, now can I?

(Do not show this letter to my mother either. If she reads that comment, I will be condemned to a Christmas holiday full of shoveling snow not just from Curzon Street, but also Uncle Alastair and Uncle Thomas’s house in Kensington, your family’s house in Mayfair - Angel, probably the whole bloody Institute, too.)

I think you should protest the wedding. You know, for solidarity.

I can’t wait to see you this weekend! Come find me when you arrive - I’ll be training in the Institute all day on Friday.

- Elizabeth

Rotterdam, the Netherlands >>> New York City, USA 

Betty,

As much as I’d love to chat about penthouses and cowboys and the stock market, I am quite pressed for time and must focus on the important thing here: what is going on with you and Owen?

You two were never like this until the past year or so - you used to be so close. You know how much I love to gossip, but I am being quite serious when I implore you to tell me - what happened? I promise I will not tell anyone, I’m just worried about you.

I love you and Owen like family, Betty. You both are family in truth, whether or not we share blood. I just want to make sure that you are both alright. You know how dearly I love Graham and Raya - we have little spats constantly, but we’ve never fought for more than a day or so. Not like whatever is occurring between you two.

(Destroy this - Raya can never read those words, the little minx.)

That was quite sappy, by my standards, and all the emotions I can spare at the moment. It is only Wednesday, and yet I find myself on the train to Rotterdam… oops.

(I’ll still be in New York on Friday, nursing my inevitably broken heart. I hope you will be prepared with wherever you find booze in dry America and many American desserts. I want to try an apple pie.)

As for the wedding: I have to RSVP yes. My father would quite literally disown me if I didn’t go.

See you in two days, you sparkling cowgirl.

- Vienna

New York City, USA >>> Rotterdam, the Netherlands 

Vienna,

I am rolling my eyes at you from across the Atlantic. It’s probably too late, but jump off that train.

I cannot really say all of what happened with Owen - in truth, it is not entirely my secret to share, and I cannot find it in me to betray my brother even now. I still love him too dearly for that, even if we are not currently speaking.

I miss him. I want this all to blow over, but if he marries Lydia, I fear it never will; she will be like a wedge between us. It’s all very complicated.

I love you. Get off that train. See you Friday.

- Elizabeth