Dear Gregor,
I once asked you to describe one day in the Overland. I will now do the same for you by describing one of my days in the Underland.
I wake. Hazard is already awake and practising to speak crawler with Temp in our common room. We three share a simple meal before Hazard heads out to help manage the nibbler pups that were orphaned in the war. Temp meets with his fellow crawlers. I join the representatives of the races at the room the council used to meet in. I am not on the reconciliation board (defined by Lizzie, if you remember) but I can sit in on their meetings, listen, and occasionally make suggestions. They bicker most of the day over every detail imaginable, even though there is only one representative per race allowed. A lunch is provided for us so there is no need to cease squabbling even for food. By the end of the day, they rejoice in the fact their disagreements have not led to any bloodshed even if they have not led to anything else. All I am left with is a pounding headache. We make plans to meet the next day, and I head down to the hospital to tell Vikus of the progress… if there is any. The conversation is usually short. Vikus is improving at using the speaking chart he and Howard created, but most talks with him still feel painfully one-sided. The days when he dispensed advice and knowledge seem to be over. I was often a spoiled brat about his constant governing advice, but I miss it now. I head back to my rooms where I join Hazard in consuming an evening meal, then we retire for the night so we may repeat this never ending process the next day.
I wish you were here to join me in this set of misery. Ha! I am jesting. I wish you were here to add your unique council to this situation. Then we might have something to show for our shared misery.
Yours in agony,
Luxa
