saltburnt inbox.

[trailborn]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
ELSA

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Comments

@s — misfire.

[femicide]

They have more hunting rifles than anything else. Rigby and Richards.

[trailborn]

[rigby and richards. two names recognizableable only by how many times she's looked down the sights of a rifle, memories of her father's rough hands passing over her own. better she has it than not. but, this is vastly out of context. she's barely figured out how to use the phone let alone thought of hunting. thank god she can read, but—]

Why are you telling me this? And who are you?

[femicide]

Sofia Gigante.
It would appear my private messages have been sent to you in error. I would apologise, but I've essentially done you an informational service, free of charge.

[trailborn]

Elsa Dutton.

They get mixed up like the wind can take them somewhere else?
If you could tell me where to find the rifles, I'd appreciate it.

un: hmm

[commentary]

Hello!

Wanna know what an eggplant is?

[trailborn]

[]

Hello?
How come you know about that? Lucky guess?

Yes, tell me

[commentary]

Not at all. [ thinking about what Melissa told her, ] I mean, yes! I'm a very good guesser.

[ how long will this little lie hold up? not very long, probably. ]

Okay, so: it's a fruit, but it's used as a vegetable for cooking. Chances are they'll be using it here eventually. Here's what it looks like.

[ Insert photo pulled from the interwebs, ]

Pretty unusual color, right?

[trailborn]

[suspicious, but...]

Yes and it's huge! Does it taste as interesting as it looks? Where does it grow? Tennesee didn't have nothing like that

[girl who doesn't know how google works treats fellow girl as google]

✉️ text — un: silco (misfire).

[powerhungry]

[ The next message that pops up on Elsa's phone contains nothing but a photo of a brown hyena pup, lying on an ornate rug. Its head is on its paws, its eyes half-closed, half-open, as if dozing. That's it — no text, no note to indicate whether or not the picture has found its intended recipient, or indeed if it was meant to have been sent at all. ]

[trailborn]

[what is this adorable creature in her phone. not a dog, she can deduce, it's too wild-looking, and she has seen her fair share of coyote, wolf and fox pups. dog-adjacent, maybe?

she waits for an explanation. leaves her phone and goes about her day, returning to find no follow up. curiosity gets the best of her, circles as vultures do, waiting for the perfect moment to sweep down and dig their talons inside prey. today, it's the absence of family and restlessness that has her soaking up this new technology called a cellphone, finding it too easy to scroll and scroll and scroll.]

Are you going to tell me what this is? It's very cute.

[powerhungry]

[ The return text comes as a surprise — but a harmless one, when his mistake had prompted it, anyway. (Elsa. A new name, as far as he can tell.) ]

He's a young brown hyena.
I wasn't familiar with the species before coming here, either.

[trailborn]

[hyena. she says it out loud, forms the vowels out how she thinks they're supposed to sound.]

Lots of things to not be familiar with here.

[understatement of the century.]

Can I see him?

@stacy

[internship]

Hi, Elsa. This is Gwen?

I just wanted to say thank you, now that I’m typing legibly again.

[trailborn]

Hello

no need. You doing alright today?

[internship]

Mostly. Some days feel easier than others.

You’re pretty new, right? Are you settling in okay?

[trailborn]

A wise man told me how to mourn a lover but I don't know how to mourn losing yourself. It's hard. I remember how it felt for me
we're not supposed to be alive to experience our own loss. It will get easier for you

Settling in fine
I've met some interesting people here

— @🌮 misfire

[quesadilla]

What else is here besides vampires, werewolves and fairies?

[trailborn]

[um???]

Witches?

[quesadilla]

( he thinks you're an expert, okay. (well, he thinks you're ptolemais, not that he can spell her name. but this is helpful! )

I've seen The Craft. Are witches like that?

✉️ text — un: silco.

[powerhungry]

[ He hates doing this, hates prevailing on anyone else for help without something to hold, in turn, as leverage, but— ]

I'd like to ask you for a favor.

[trailborn]

What do you need?

[powerhungry]

I've landed in Bronze. The living quarters and the work requirements mean I can't adequately care for Jawsy.

[ In case his request isn't clear: ]

He trusts you.

@🤍

[gauls]

Hello, Elsa.

I have been thinking more about my earliest years. My people of origin. My memories are fogged by time, war, and unsavory work between, but even so, I remember something of the old ways. Much would have been barbaric by the standards of 2008. Much seems barbaric to me now. But there was some truth to the rhythm, I think.

We offered votives. We made sacrifices. I would like to make one for you in a way that sits with your God.

[trailborn]

[godric speaks of sacrifice and she reminds herself his earth is different, but not separate, from her own. the offer is one that gives her pause– godric has his own traditions, certainly lived through more than she's ever experienced, and while she respects his beliefs, it seems a little...intense, though it doesn't snuff out her curiosity.]

Why would I want a sacrifice in my name?

[gauls]

To enter into a covenant with this world and the things that inhabit it. For luck. Out of respect. In honor. And with curiosity.

It might be something small. A carving. A piece of jewelry. A flower grown by your own hand. I was raised by the water and I think this lake is very powerful. You know something of that, don't you? You understand this in your own way.