[ What would she have given to receive a letter like this. What would she have traded, to have looked for her mother and received this, instead of just a gravestone and an obituary. Something that said she mattered. Forget something from her father, the one actually still alive, who she's given up receiving any kind of affection from--
Thalia realizes with a start that a tear almost stains the letter, instead landing on her- shaking? why is it shaking, she doesn't even know him-
shaking hand. She pulls her face back, so she doesn't splash this letter to someone she doesn't even know, who she envies, and sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. She can't give this to Stan right now, to give to this man's son. Not when the man is grieving and in shock. But she folds the letter and closes Fiddleford's eyes with that shaking hand, and whispers a soft promise: ]
Your son will receive this letter. If I have to track him down myself, I will. I swear on the River Styx.
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Thalia realizes with a start that a tear almost stains the letter, instead landing on her- shaking? why is it shaking, she doesn't even know him-
shaking hand. She pulls her face back, so she doesn't splash this letter to someone she doesn't even know, who she envies, and sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. She can't give this to Stan right now, to give to this man's son. Not when the man is grieving and in shock. But she folds the letter and closes Fiddleford's eyes with that shaking hand, and whispers a soft promise: ]
Your son will receive this letter. If I have to track him down myself, I will. I swear on the River Styx.