Soar Far

As bright as the lanterns burn within Memento Post, they do little to stave off the inescapable, bitter cold of Somnum. There was a time when Sulien appreciated the warmth of the colors the flames offered, though that dimmed as she aged into her responsibilities. Those same responsibilities now drag her up the never-ending spiral staircase, lined with countless tomes.
The Grand Chronicler has summoned her. This isn't a new scenario; all couriers who reside within Memento are directed by their wing. With little mail to deliver in the largely barren snow-covered continent, those of Memento instead dedicate their lives to documenting and preserving the history of the post offices. Yesterday, a wingful were summoned to their office to receive their latest assignments. Tomorrow, more would make the ascent. Sulien wasn't special.
Still, her heart flutters. It's slight – an entirely alien feeling to her – but undeniable. The timing of it all feels too perfect.
She forces the thoughts out of her mind as she approaches the door. A chronicler does what is expected of them. All tasks are of equal import, and to think otherwise would be a betrayal of the post's values and teachings.
She pushes the door open, quickly bringing her wing back into her cloak once inside. The sound of the old door proves enough to grab the Grand Chronicler's attention, which was previously occupied with a small parcel upon their desk.

"Sulien! Took the long way, did you?"
Sulien brings their head down into a bow. "Sincerest apologies. Had I known your patience was wearing thin, I would have flown."
Though their cloak covered their face, the body language of them suppressing a small chuckle was unmistakable. "Think naught of it. In truth, I've only just finished my duties myself."
The Grand Chronicler returns their attention back to the box, back turned to their guest. "I trust you know of your task already?"
There's the flutter again. She extinguishes it as best she's able, determined to not let her anticipation taint her response. "It isn't my place to assume."
"Assume, she says! Come now, we both know how this works. A day after a message from another post arrives, I take a day to process it, then over the next couple… bah! A waste of both our times, me reciting this."
They bring a wing from their cloak and wave it a couple times, ushering the rest of that tangent out the room before continuing. "Fine, I'll play along with your alleged ignorance. You're being assigned to Vitae. To document the recent incident, naturally. Our records on Mortem Post are rather outdated, so I'm also adding a general update to those as part of your responsibilities on this trip."

Confirmation. The news regarding Mortem Post's Undeliverables hit Memento as if it were a tremor from the very core of the star itself, able to tear their tree in two with its implications and revelations. All of their work is important, but an event such as this that reframes long-held beliefs is a truly invaluable addition to Memento's archives.

And it's to be penned by her wing.

The Grand Chronicler swoops the small box up within their wing and approaches Sulien. As they have done countless other assignments, she brings her wings out to retrieve the parcel.
"Journals, writing supplies, a small stipend and some other necessities. As per usual."
A flicker of pride fills Sulien, but the cold quickly returns to her bones as she ponders an obvious question to herself. She thinks about withholding it and accepting the honor for what it is. The feeling quickly becomes overwhelming, however, and the words slip past her lips before she has the chance to think better of the act.

"Why me, specifically?"
"Mm… I don't suppose 'all of your other colleagues are pre-occupied' would satisfy you, would it?"
"I… if that's the answer, then… of course."
The Grand Chronicler's grand robes ripple with laughter at Sulien's uncertainty. "Ease yourself! Merely a jest."
"Oh. Of course. Um… good one, Grand Chronicler."
"In truth, the decision stemmed from the facts of the incident itself. You see, us couriers are a rather rigid lot. Stuck in our ways, bound by tradition and expectations. Us and our Memento colleagues most of all, I'm sure you can agree?"

Sulien gives a small nod. It was a true enough observation. More so than other posts, Memento strived on efficiency and respect for their work. Unlike other posts, they all shared the same stamp design upon their cloaks, and even blotted out their face markings in a symbolic de-emphasizing their individuality. They all strived for a singular goal, and that always had to be at the forefront.

"Mortem Post's Undeliverables was handled much the same way. What allowed this new revelation to reveal itself was something that was once barred from those halls out of necessity." The Grand Chronicler takes a single step back from Sulien. "Empathy. A love for another that is so strong that it overrides tradition and allows one to do the impossible. The ability to feel, a talent that I worried was suppressed with Memento's practices and etiquette being taught so young."
Their words were difficult to parse. There was the tiniest thread of logic, if Sulien really squinted in aims of seeing it, but the words felt… wrong. Like an insult veiled in praise.
"With all respect to you and your station, I'm afraid I'm not quite certain what you mean. Have I been erring in my duties…?"
"Not at all, not at all. This is an important part of our history, and I wouldn't dare issue it as a form of punishment!"
"Then why…?"

From this distance, Sulien is just barely able to make out a smile from underneath the Grand Chronicler's hood.

"Hm. I thought the words from the Grand Chronicler were always to be treated as an unquestioned truth?"
Sulien bows a bow once again, deeper still to hide the shame on her face. "I'm truly sorry, Grand Chronicler."
"And that's what makes you perfect for the job. Rest well, your transport arrives early on the morrow."
"Thank you, Grand Chronicler."
"Soar far, Sulien of Memento."