Dear Helen

The words I failed to say

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Dear Helen

I'm not entirely sure how to start this, if I'm honest. But let's be real, we both know how I am. We both know what I struggle with. Where I falter, and the only place I truly ever fail.
Part of me hates the fact that I'm writing this letter. Like... what kind of useless sack of Rendling shit can't tell her friend--
Anyways. There's good news in here as well, I promise. Let me just get through this first.
There's been a lot weighing on my mind recently. About what we've done to get here. How we've climbed the Legion ranks, and made the changes we've made. About what needs to be done to move forwards. I don't doubt the plan. I don't regret anything that I've done to get here, either -- I'd do it again. I'd probably even smile doing it, knowing that it's worth it in the end. That we're making a difference, Helen. We're the only ones that can do it. My plan is the only thing that'll truly make this world a better home for us.
No, I don't regret any of that. Well. Okay, there might be a tiny bit of regret.
It's what I'm struggling to put into words right now.
I...
Oh for the love of He'an, this is stupid. It'd be better if I could just talk to you.
I'm sorry for pushing you into a lot of this. I can tell, you know -- I can see your resistance. Your unwillingness, your caution, and your hesitation for half the things we do. It's so gods damned frustrating. But I appreciate it. Because I know without you slowing me down (in a good way, I swear -- He'an help me I suck at this), I'd probably make a mistake somewhere along the way. It might not be that bad of a mistake -- but there's also a chance that it'd really screw things up. That I'd screw things up.
I am so, so sure of myself. Of my mission. And yet... every once in a while, a small part of me doubts myself. Doubts that I can do it.
Some days, I feel like that part of me exists because you're in my life. Like without you, I'd be doubt free and unstoppable.
Those days are rare,
Those days mean nothing and
Those are my bad days. Please believe me.
Most days, I know the only reason I can ignore that part of me is because I know I've got you watching my back, looking out for mistakes, and slowing me down just enough to give me time to think everything through to its logical end. It's the way things should be.
I guess what I'm truly trying to say, is thank you for being my friend. I don't often show it, and I far too often take advantage of you, but I think it's important you know the appreciation is there. Even if outwardly, I look frustrated. Or say stupid things. Once you read this, I hope you'll know that's not really me talking, when I say those awful things. That's just "in the heat of the moment" Anabelle. Not really me.
So, truly, thank you.
--------------------------------------------
Oh, and that's not even the good news, by the way.
Because guess what, Helen. I've located it. I've found what we've been looking for. The item we've needed. Finally all this research has paid off -- and you'll never guess where the info was. I'll tell you when I see you, but till then, I'll give you a hint: the worst smelling room in The Comprilith.
I'm assembling a team right now. I wanted to tell you in person, but I'm far, far too busy. So this letter will have to do. The item, it's in a cave complex under Caed's Island, of all places.
I want you on the team, Helen. There's no one I trust more to go along and bring it back. You're the best at this. And I'm sorry, but you don't get a choice here -- I'm asking as your friend, but commanding you as your superior.
Call me when you get this. We've got a world to change.
Yours, Ana

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From

Anabelle

To

Helen

Left Behind

A dusty letter discovered in an empty apartment, months after the recipient's disappearance. It was found and retrieved by Legion intelligence agents working under the direction Catobella Song -- head of the ACSA misinformation campaign. She released the letter to the general public with the goal of both humanizing Dr. Anabelle Evingston and squashing any rumours of her involvement with the vanishing of her friend Helen.

Click on the envelope to read the letter.

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