Tholo surprised her with how much he had to say. He seemed like the quiet, brooding type, but maybe she’d pegged him wrong.  He mentioned the awkward hug and she didn’t give him the pleasure of reacting to his taunt. What did get a reaction from her, however, was when he spoke her language. She raised a brow, “So you can pronounce my name correctly, then. I expect you to do so from now on.” He mentioned his first soul mate, and something about that jarred her back into the realization that that’s what they were: Soul mates… regardless of their willingness to be such.

“Je suis sûr que nous nous rencontrerons de nouveau, malheureusement.” The French barb was quick and smooth from her tongue, polished off with a sly smile before she finally turned to walk away. Her thoughts were swarming and her feelings were all over the place. She was angry at Solenne for crossing the line that he had, upset that she hadn’t tracked down the rogue [i]or[/i] gotten the information that she’d hope to gain from SoSo, mad that she was stuck paired to a werewolf that she couldn’t keep away from herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so burdened by her emotions, it was so… human.

This little date hadn’t gone at all like she’d wanted it to. She wanted to get the information, chat with an old friend, and even explore a bit of that passion they’d once shared. Anything to distract her, to make her forget… but wasn’t that always her M.O.? Just keep filling your life with things to do, people to see, and maybe you can forget about everything you lost, everything you’re losing…

Béatrix needed a break from the hustle and bustle of the city, and from herself, so she hopped on her ninja and headed back home. After parking the bike, Trixy pocketed the keys and walked to the front door. Checking her mail in the foyer, Trixy found a single parchment envelope in her mailbox. The very scent from the letter sent her back to the past, and the swirling script made her heart swell. It’d been so long.

As Béatrix walked the steps to her apartment, she eagerly unfolded the parchment, breaking the Council’s wax seal that her grandmother put on most of her letters. This wasn’t her human family, of course, but her vampiric grandmother of sorts: Francis’ sire. After closing the door gently behind her, Trixy sat at the kitchen table and devoted all her attention to beautiful script, written in her native tongue:

[i]Granddaughter,
[center] I hope this letter finds you well, though I fear it does not. I write to you because I felt your sorrow today, though when this letter reaches you, I suppose it will have been yesterday. 

It has been so long since you have felt deeply enough for it to trigger my empathy from so many miles away, and then I realized what day it must be. My dear, it has been centuries since my son passed. And if Francis was alive to see you today, he would be so proud of the strong, independent woman you have become in his absence; but your deep well of sadness? Well, that would be enough to kill him all over again. He would want you to be happy, my darling, as I want you to be happy. Whoever this gentleman may be, he doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you. Don’t be so pained by the opportunity to find love again, you deserve all of the happiness this world has to offer.

Scotland is so beautiful this time of year, you should visit me. Even though I have no plans of dying anytime soon, you know that my seat on the council will belong to you some day, it would do you some good to meet the other elders. Either way, don’t hesitate to write me back, you know how much I hate those phone devices.[/center]

With all my love,
Frida[/i]