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you've replied; it shocks me, shakes me to my very core. are you simply bored, or wanting to know more? as for who i am, you must wait. it would be scandalous, you being a god and i, a mere mortal.
if you wish, you may call me freya. not a soul calls me freya; you should not unravel my secrets from that alone. behind the letters i am nothing. of course, i am nothing still, but these letters give me the slightest, false impression i have a purpose. i sent it to make sure you knew how golden you are. of course, i shall send another, golden one, if it does not displease you. reply if you wish; this is merely an open diary. i have answers upon answers; ask away. (i am worn down by the harshness of this life.)
you flatter me with your words, golden one. they bring a flush to my cheeks and a warmth in my soul. your words lighten my aura (have you seen your own? it is rather exquisite, golden one).
mystery is perhaps the only good quality i possess if you enjoy it. intriguing? many people have told me i am too quiet, boring, or harsher words; but never intriguing. anything is alright with you. apologize not, golden one, for there is nothing to forgive.
i am not very enchanting either, but i shall try if it makes you happy. reply soon, golden one. i will be waiting.
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sirius couldn't help anticipating the reply, and when it came, he was overjoyed. he devoured the contents as if they were his first food after a long famine. the raven-haired boy truly did love the lovely one's — freya's — letters. they were a godsend, the only thing to brighten the darkest days.
with the letter was a tiny metal comet, golden in colour and intricate in design. sirius's face brightened, and he could imagine the golden aura freya spoke of. making a mental note to get a chain attached at addams' jewellers, he quickly folded the letter and put it in his trousers pocket along with the token. it was better to keep them there than to risk them falling out of his robe pocket. the reminders of freya's presence, however small, were too precious to lose.
a part of him wanted to find out just who freya was, to track her down. but then the spell of the whole ordeal would be broken, the magic lost. he would lose her.
it lingered in the back of his mind all the time, will she stop? will i lose her? it wasn't really a matter of if, but more of when. it was inevitable, like the last leaves dropping off a tree, or a star collapsing into nothingness. but he was not ready, still. would he ever be?
