Stolen Aspirations, this ones for you.

[Nofaren]

The letter is grasped and as it burnt away, the Voice's hand would clench into a fist but smirks at the tail end of it. Instead of sending a letter, the Cirque would announce her words and would ensure it would spread to every corner in Esshar by word, or by poster, to ensure that the perpetrator would hear the message.

"O sweetheart, I didn' wish ta' rub ya' tha' wrong way. Nor would ya' be rubbed tha' wrong way if ya' knew how ta' leave ya' own house regularly. O wait, ya' did. But ya' left cowardly, leavin' Mox' then decidin' ta' do this instead o' doin' it by tradition. Are ya' truly a Moxtlian? Or are ya' another one culturally lost from 'tendin tha' academy? Ya' talk as if I don' leave tha' walls of Moxtli. How much do ya' know about me, Lucinda? Truly. Claimin' tha' right o' Voice, do ya' honestly wish ta' turn Moxtli like Osrona? 'I have the right to the throne, not you! Let me waddle my way around and try to gather people to backstab you.' How 'bout we change Moxtli inta' a monarch? A Cirque reign for years ta' come doesn't sound bad? Sayin' tha' leaves a filthy taste in my mouth o' how disgustin' it is ta' even mock ya'.

 Ya' challenged me before, Lucinda.. Ya' lost. Now tha' ya' left, there is a whole other world o' terror waitin' for ya'. An' let's remember wha' happened ta' last one ta' betray tha' tribes? Hm? 

I'll be around out o' Moxtli, jus' like I normally do, every single day. Sorry if ya' are too blind ta' realize tha'.

I will be searching for you, woman.

The hunt begins.