Dear Mr. Gnat King Cole,
Hello, it's Helga, but you probably already knew that.
Thank you, very much, for the extravagant leather journal with the embossed paper moon and ramblin' rose on the cover. It is quite stylish. I never thought I'd have a reason to use it to write you, but here I am.
First of all: I'm okay, so you don't have to worry.
I've recorded my findings from my latest experiment and will do that thing to send them to you once Dr. Mr. Buerque has cleared the water out of my lungs.
Today, I had my first swim into an underwater city, my first experience with Fish People, and my first time under a breathing spell.
The city was really lovely. In the marketplace, some vendors were selling the most lovely fabrics with impossibly beautiful patterns. I bet Charles would have a field day if he was here!
There was also a druid circle. The circle had a whole bunch of big rocks there. I licked one of the rocks, as is customary in the Ironfist Clan when encountering new masses of stone. (Purely for identification purposes, I assure you.) And then, well, something happened. After I licked it, I felt some really weird, deep, dark stuff. I'm not saying that stuff reminded me of you, but it felt you adjacent: like a member of your family, or some sort.
What I am trying to say is, well, do you have family out there in the deep ocean?
I hope you're having a good day and I'll send those findings along soon,
ps. If it isn't too much trouble, can you tell Charles that, if I ever get back to that market, I'll pick him up some fabric so he can fashion himself a bowtie and matching pocket square?