Oh my, I read this a while ago, and I thought I reviewed, but apparently I did not! Anyway, I liked it, it was very funny, and I remembered it enough to come back again! Anyhow, great work!

Dear Moon without a Sun:

First, I am Irish. I have family in Ireland. I know my people. Second, and I am going to lapse into rabid IRA-leanings here, Cye is British, raised by British parents who probably taught him that the potato famine was all the dumb, drunk louts' fault. It was not basically genocide or anything, oh no. The British had a grain surplus, but actually feeding the people that they'd run into the ground would not be as fun as watching them die. Cye insulted the Irish; he's British. It happens. The British are still bastardly like that, as much as the Americans. He probably doesn't understand the British.

Third, I=insulted makes you sound like an idiot.

Ok, usually I don't do mean things like this, but you insulted the Irish. I understand that you understand that the Irish drink more and didn't get it from the British, but it's wrong to even say that! Even thinking about it makes me want to throw up. I=insulted!

This is so funny! please write more!

For the love of everything that is good and holy- this was great! I just loved this fic. You must, must, must, must write more- 'cause if you don't, well then, I might just have to cry or do something really drastic. I hope you will write more soon. Maybe your next fic should be centered on Sage and/or Rowen. That would kick **. Anyhoo, keep up the awesome work.