The rain pitter pattered against her umbrella, and Sofie drew her cloak tighter around her. In her pocket was a few scrawled letters and pictures, and by her side was her dog Boris, who was beginning to transition out of puppy-hood. Her cheeks were stained pink from the cold and a small blue tinge had entered her lips. "Davaj," she called to Boris, who had paused to smell the stoop of a bakery. He dipped his head and sped up to follow her as she entered the post office.
She closed the umbrella and hooked it on the crook of her arm as she pulled out her letter. Her mother had requested a picture of her as well, so she tucked the picture in. There was a line, so she pulled out the letter, rereading to make sure. There were two copies- one in Russian for her sister, grandmother, and aunt, and one in English for her mother. They read basically the same:
To my beloved family,
I am pleased to find that this Itch has not reached you. I am only catching the smallest of symptoms of it- it is no more inconvenient than a winter sniffle. Thank you, Babushka, for the herbs. They have relieved the worst of my symptoms.
I have become a Seraphim, and I am one of two, but my lord does not trust the other. My lord is currently indisposed to lead, I assume the Itch, and he has left me in charge. I am learning a lot, and we draw closer and closer to the Ministry. I am beneath suspicion, no one here knows who I am.
I am currently getting information from a man in one of the departments. He's polite- I think mother would like him. Babushka would call him opezdol, I don't doubt. I think you would all approve heartily of my lord. I think Grete, especially, for she would find him vastly handsome. Though I do not think anyone would dispute it, not even Babushka.
Boris pines for home and I miss the comforts of your love and concern. Please send more word of you all. I love you all.
S. A. E.
She tucked the letters back into the envelope with the pictures before carefully sealing the letter with a spell her father had taught her. If it were to be opened by anyone outside of those listed on the envelope, the letter would turn to ashes. She took a step forward as someone left the line, raising the letter to her chin and closing her eyes, longing for her family suddenly bucking within her.