((Left at the Stormwind Cathedral, addressed to Urien Fuoco, wax sealed (with a rune embossing, rather than family crest). It is bewitched to bleed ink and be rendered illegible if not opened by Urien-- it will react to the enchantment on his envelope.))
My husband,
We've been separated again, and it is entirely my fault. With the quarantine for that awful disease being held in Dalaran, I panicked. I fled, for a variety of reasons. I did not want to contract it myself, I did not want to happen upon those either of us would consider enemies.
Nevertheless, I am safe, in a manner of speaking. I have taken it upon myself to keep my head down, and am recovering from grievous wounds. You'll never believe this, but I lost a duel. I am more than thankful that my old friend was there to witness it, as he saved my life. Now more than ever, I am realizing my condition. How I don't take care of myself. How I keep pushing myself when there is quite simply nothing left. I assure you, I am resting as much as I can without going completely stir-crazy.
I would love for nothing more than to be reunited with you once again. We can be away from the city-- away from that silly boat of murderous do-gooders, away from the fractured remains of the coven, away from all of it. I know that I have done terrible things, that I have been distant, that I have been the worst wife.
For that I am sorry. Truly so.
[There are a few started sentences, but they are all scribbled out after the first few words.]
Have you been to the Western Province recently? Parts near Andorhal are green again. It is breathtaking. Perhaps I can see you there in person, soon.
With love,
Faronne
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