Work Text:
“Dear Mr. Azik, I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been traveling as a magician recently with an artifact that was given to me by the Church of Steam and Machinery(okay one of the members and I’m not sure if the Church agreed but ignore that). It has living characteristics and seems to find joy in making others suffer, others not including myself. Yes, it seemed to sense the space above the gray fog and has dubbed itself a faithful servant…. It’s kind of annoying how much of a boot licker it is, honestly!
Did I ever mention the gray fog to you? I don’t think I have. That’s where I hold my weekly gathering. We tell each other stories, make deals, and we teach this one kid Hermes. It’s a cult I started. I’ve indoctrinated 8 members so far. One of them If you ask one of the members they’ll say there’s 10 people but I’m there twice. I’m like my own Blessed, it’s kind of sad but we must make do ig
I made this fun little city as well: Utopia. All me, it was. Recently this old ahh guy has been trying to talk to me; telling me to hand over my body or something but obviously I don’t wanna do that. Creepy asf imo.
Please wake up soon Mr. Azik!!! If this were 2020 I’d make a skit doing something you hated so much that you’d wake up from a coma but you’re like nonchalant king and won’t be ragebaited.
Eternally your student, Klein Moretti”
Azik had read this one specifically twice now. From the tens of letters his student sent and what he recalled from them, such informality and strange wording weren’t in line with the polite man. Still, an amused yet exasperated expression crinkled his brows, happy his student had found him someone he could talk in such a way to, but also still…confused…
Aside from the odd terms were what information the text was conveying. A stolen artifact; a space above the gray fog, which he might have sensed on the previous letter he read; a cult; a city built by one man; and someone pestering him.
He put the unfolded paper on the left side of his desk, atop the first one he had read. Klein had imitated others until he was imitated by others, but even so he never stopped being himself. Even when, apparently, he kept this certain side away from view with his politeness. He picked up the next envelope, finding more pieces of himself to recall.
Perhaps now, that his student and friend is the one in the position of “coma”, he should send letters to keep Klein company.