From, Blake Belladonna
Adam, if you're reading this, I am dead. In all likelihood, by your hand, whether you feel I forced you to it or not. To be honest, I don't truly understand why my father wants me to write this for you, but I will do it regardless. I do have a few things to say to you, but I had made my peace with never speaking them.
Adam, you're obsessed. With the Faunus and what's been done to them. With power and what it gives you. And with revenge against Mankind as a whole for the crimes of a few and of history. I always knew this, but you… Changed in front of me, as we waged our war for liberty and equality.
When did it shift into a war against a species?
When did our fight cease being about our rights, and start becoming about vengeance and inflicting suffering on people who sometimes haven't done anything to us or our people?
And when did killing Faunus become something you were okay with? Something you would allow? Not just me, even though you reading this means I have been killed in the fight to come at Haven. Adam, you sent people to kill my family. To kill Faunus who weren't doing anything to you, except harboring a daughter you demanded for yourself. And the Breach, gods, do you know how many bodies were pulled from the rubble? Dozens of dead Faunus, and far more trapped underground in the tunnels you used to sacrifice them for your vendetta. When did that become our movement?
That's not what I built with you, Adam.
But even so, and even now that I know you have taken my life by your own hand or those of your underlings, I can't bring myself to hate you.
When I think about you, I don't see you now, face covered in a mask and shoulders hunched in hate. I don't see the blood on your hands, what you took from Yang, or even the man who took my life. I don't see the man who ordered my parents' deaths, or the deaths of his own people in the Breach, or the man willing to plunge the world into chaos for petty revenge.
I see a young man, barely that, at a protest laying on his back with his face smashed open by a Human's baton, a blow meant for me and not you. I feel your fingers holding my hand tight as you try to fight the tears back tears at the pain. I see the sad, scarred face of a man handed a mask by a woman far his superior, to hide the horrific scars that even now you are ashamed by.
I don't feel hatred for you, and think I never could have even had I lived.I felt love then, in my heart. You were kind to me, fought for me, and we stood for an ideal that was worth fighting for. It was that love that led us to be partners, to fight together, and that childish love that bloomed into something more as we reached near-adulthood. And now, where hate should be, I feel pity and sorrow.
I am sorry, Adam, that I convinced you to stay when the White Fang began taking arms rather than signs to rallies and protests. You were right when you said that this was not a path to progress but a path to sorrow.
Please, Adam, I beg of you. Stop, before you are forever a monster. Leave the path I put you on.
With Sorrow And Regret, Your Partner, Blake
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Please, gimme anyone you're like a letter from and who it would be to. I need the situation they're in as well and when.
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