exsilium | >> text

[If text had a tone, this post would carry a hint of uncertainty despite the writer's efforts to be forthright and calm. But it doesn't; only the chosen words matter, and that's why Maria has opted for this method of communication.]

Where I'm from, writing down one's thoughts and expecting any kind of reply without sending a letter through a courier would be considered mad. Even after being here for a while, it still feels as if it should be, although being here at all seems even more so—and if that's the case, we're all mad together.

I was born in England and didn't think much of it when I left, but I didn't imagine it would ever be reduced to this state. Yet for all the strange things I've witnessed since arriving here, seeing so many women brought to fight a war is one of the most startling. Such a thing would never be condoned in my time. It may be one of the only things I can approve of here.

And at least our 'hosts' have been considerate enough to offer us ways to stay occupied. I doubt most people are given the opportunity to train with weaponry after being spirited away unwillingly.

[There's a pause before she types more, slowly hunting and pecking, as she suppresses a wry chuckle. Certainly none of her previous captors had stood for such a thing.]

If anyone reading this is skilled with a sword, I could use a practice partner in one of the training rooms. My name is Maria.

[action!
option a! come spar with Maria. fighting style's not so important. got a blade? it's all good.
option b! bump into Maria on her way back from training. she'll be slightly sweatier but generally satisfied.]