Solo Mine Opprobrious Son... Fin

Terrible Presence in effect.
| Aura of Unease Present |

Macbeth had decided that today was a good day to make Leonardo play chase. The game had begun even before nightly classes had begun for Astronomy, but Leonardo had figured that his often obedient owl would return before long. Indeed, the little creature had, popping its little feathered head into the class from time to time in order to check in on the class and Professor, but never did Macbeth stick around long enough for Leonardo to have a chance to summon the owl back. Indeed, the moment when the situation escalated the most was when Macbeth decided that it would be a good idea to perch on Leonardo’s shoulder in order to look at the Professor’s work. This in and of itself was not peculiar for the owl to do, and in truth, Leonardo enjoyed it when he had his owl close and safe at his side.

However, it was when he had opened a drawer to retrieve a letter relating to a student’s question, that Macbeth’s golden eyes had gleamed with curious light, having noticed a yellowed envelope with a signature red wax sealing emblem which seemed a little bit out of place just peeking outside of the drawer and in the perfect position to snatch away.

Peck, shout, and flutter, and Leonardo was storming through the dark hallways guided only by torches and an anger-infused Lumos which was blazing so hotly that it threatened to burn his wand. His black cloak whipped with laughter behind him as he chased his owl with a low whisper-shout, not wishing to disturb the rest of the castle. It was not enough that he would have to explain himself at this ungodly hour of the night, but then there would be the embarrassment of having to admit that he was chatting his miscreant owl who was carrying a letter that was important to him; whether he liked it or not.

”Macbeth!” He hissed through his teeth, reaching with his right and catching only air. ”Do not make me catch you by hand!” But Macbeth paid Leonardo no mind, fluttering— slightly encumbered— but just high enough in the air that even at his full height, Leonardo could not snag the tiny animal out of the air. He could not lose that envelope.

The professor was not running, thankfully, but it was irritating to see the silhouette of the tiny owl fluttering tantalizingly out of reach, just out of the grasp of the tips of his fingers. Down and up the staircases Leonardo went, unwillingly guided for want of safety for his friend. It seemed that Macbeth was on a mischievous streak, something that Leonardo would simply have to deal with until the owl was a bit older and matured. After all, the owl was still a chick... he was bound to have a few growing pains just as Leonardo had.

Passing the Gryffindor dorms for the third time, Leonardo began to mutter under his breath. He didn’t want to cast a spell at Macbeth... he was far too dangerous to simply catch and not maim the poor owl, but he still couldn’t keep at this pace forever. His breath was beginning to catch as his stamina began to falter. Fortunately, it seemed that Macbeth had another place in mind, and Leonardo begrudgingly followed, past Transfiguration, crossing Divination and Ancient Runes, brushing past Ravenclaw dorms; and entering the Owlery.

Sparing hardly a glance at the inscription over the door, Leonardo stormed into the area, causing a few larger owls to startle and angrily readjust their perches. ”Macbeth!” He boomed, now unafraid to permit his voice to louden. “Merlin preserve you when I finally manage to get my hands on you!” His eyes scanned the room, searching for a specific brown and golden-eyes screech owl with a certain yellowed envelope. Unfortunately, spotting things had never been Leonardo’s strong point, as evident in his lack of Quidditch experience during his time at Hogwarts as a student. No, it was searching for weak points in a defense where he had excelled... so when he managed to spot his owl, Macbeth would most certainly be in danger if Leonardo so chose.

A light flapping caused the Seer to spin on his heel as he spotted a tiny shadow making its way up the central stairs, towards the top of the tower, and Leonardo took to the stairs, swiftly taking the stone steps three at a time and managing to miraculously cut the owl off just as Macbeth cleared the railing. Lashing out a hand, Leonardo caught the errant owl by one foot, ignoring a few screeches of disappointment at being caught as he snatched the envelope from Macbeth’s beak and then let the owl go.

Immediately, realizing he had been caught, Macbeth perched on Leonardo’s shoulder, cozying into the gruff and irritated Seer’s scruffy jawline which would soon require a light trim. With hardly an indication of breathing, the owl watched his owner gently open the envelope with slightly quivering hands, affirming its importance as he unfolded the wrinkled parchment, left thusly as a result of repeated crumpling, unfolding, smoothing, and then crumpling again. Taking a breath as he steeled his nerves for the words written therein, Leonardo quietly read the contents of the letter to himself, desperately trying with all his might to reduce the trembling which seemed to fill his entire body whenever he beheld the personal address.

27 November, 2004

Mine Opprobrious Son,
Though you may not anymore reside beneath my roof, I must inform you that you are still my charge, and thus, are still my responsibility until I depart from this world. Your last letter has greatly distressed me, insofar as your view and beliefs in our family integrity and thus, by proxy, your heritage and honorable lineage. I do not intend to insult or disgrace your ready mind and understanding of the world and the path which you now partake in, but I must remind you of our situation in these troubling times, especially in light the recent events which degraded the house which we have all proudly supported.

Insofar as the life which awaits you, I have no doubt that you will make the right choices, despite your obvious and uninhibited loathing of me as made evident in your letters up to this point. Must I remind you that your place in this family is still tumultuous, and that despite having come of age, you have evidently yet to come of age in recognizing your responsibility in not only supporting, but extending the family in posterity, renown, numbers, and economy.

Do not ignore this letter, and return to me your response as hastily as you must so that we may discuss these matters more privately and in a more appealing manner for you and I both. There are connections I must make betwixt familial factions should we have the ability to pursue these efforts, and should you finally come to your senses in order to comprehend the gravity of your position as one of the final exarchs of the Chiadovini tree.

Your Patriarch and Father,

Macbeth looked between the paper which was shaking in Leonardo’s grasp, and the furious grey eyes of the Seer himself, twittering half to himself and half to Leonardo with an air of mixed confusion and slight worry. Just as quickly as it had come, though, Leonardo’s trembling ceased in the same motion his hands crumpled the parchment and the words that laid therein. Breathing heavily, the Seer considered shredding the paper, lighting it aflame, or else wreaking some sort of irreversible damage upon the letter... but he could not bring himself to do it.

He had not yet returned a letter in these past sixteen years, this one piece of parchment having served as the wedge which had divided the house on Leonardo’s side. In turn, Leonardo had not heard anything from his father, save for sparse news shared through the conduit which was his own mother, who neither sided with nor stood against such fighting which was taking place betwixt father and son. Perhaps she was the wise one in the madness, forever teetering the precipice between radical doctrine and bold revolution. Perhaps Leonardo himself was the foolish one, thinking that he could reverse what had been emblazoned in the personal code of his tainted lineage.

Regardless, Leonardo stood in the frigid cold of the Owlery, never shivering, wrapped in his velvet cloak with Macbeth cozied and sleeping on his shoulder, staring at the crumpled letter which lay in his frozen, clutched fist, now whitened with the force of his grasp, trapped in indecision and perhaps hubris. What to do with the last connection, the fiber of thread which held together father and son; old and new; ass and colt; old doctrine and new thought. It was not until the first rosy rays of a dawning sun danced across Leonardo’s black clothes that he recognized how long he had been awake, and how long he had thought himself to be petrified in the moment as the world turned silently on its axis, trudging its indifferent path through its celestial road about Sol.

If only he himself could be unfeeling as one of those planets he taught about each night, unattached, unfeeling, perhaps unknowing that there was life on another one of its fellows. Life which was both confusion and beautiful, corrupted and perfect in the same turn.

A flutter of black velvet, and Leonardo vanished into the castle from whence he came, the letter now smoothed and returned to its yellowed envelope, prepared to be stored where it had been earlier that night, left to obscurity. The Seer was outwardly unchanged, returning to teach in the coming night, but perhaps he had more on his mind now than he had in years past.

He was thinking.

Thinking was inevitably a dangerous pastime of his.

Exeunt