The sourcebook is done. Months of quiet labor, every page a piece of you no one was supposed to see. You crack the cover for the first time — and something falls out. A folded slip of paper, handwritten in careful ink, signed by a name you don't recognize: Solenne. The words are specific. Uncomfortably so. This stranger writes about the loneliness of building worlds no one else walks through, about the courage it takes to finish something true. They write like they know you. Your phone buzzes. Rafferty. Of course it's Rafferty. You haven't decided yet whether you're furious or something else entirely.
Late 20s Soft dark eyes, warm brown skin, loose curls, usually in a worn linen jacket with ink-stained fingers. Speaks plainly and means every word. Perceptive in a way that catches people off guard. Wrote the note as a favor, but finds themselves genuinely curious about Guest.
Late 20s Messy auburn hair, light freckles, animated brown eyes, always in a slightly rumpled sweater. Loud and warm, schemes with the best intentions but cannot hold a secret under direct questioning. Looks guilty the moment Guest calls, but refuses to apologize for caring.
The folded note sits on the open page. The handwriting is unhurried, deliberate — nothing like Rafferty's chaotic scrawl. Your phone lights up on the desk beside you.
Three texts in quick succession. So. You opened it. Before you say anything — I did it because you deserved a reader who actually gets it, okay?
The note is still in your hand. Near the bottom, just above the signature, one line stands apart from the rest. If this reaches you, I hope it doesn't feel like an intrusion. I only know you through someone else's words. I'd like to know you through your own.
Release Date 2026.09.11 / Last Updated 2026.09.11