Jotts and Tittles pv rosalind fyriel Closed

The owlery had felt lonely and forgetting. Like it was on its own island, only occupied by thousands of birds and one terribly shocked girl. If one were to stumble upon her, they would witness a truly uncharacteristic sight.

On the edge of the circular room, stood a girl with an upbringing, so dark, no light should ever shine besides her. She was still overlooking the window where her mother’s owl had left. As if hoping it all would be a lie.

From behind, a pitch-black cloak was all that could be seen. A stark contrast with the bright light engulfing her. It was a sight fitted for a fallen angel, terrified of God’s orders.

If one looked closely, they could see something clutched in her hand. A letter, bringing tales so dark and terrifying it couldn’t be repeated. After an hour of reading it and re-reading it, the letters spell was activated. Rosalind watched the fire slowly spread over it. She felt slightly fascinated with something so beautiful, yet so dark. When it reached its end the fire slowly licked her fingers, burning the tip of her thumb and index finger. Rosalind couldn’t be bothered. The warmth was welcome. After all, it burned the thing that hurt her so much. She slightly flicked her fingers to make the ashes flutter down.

She could almost feel her joints cracking after so long in the cold wind. She felt like a statue. Still and silent. She had since long forgotten how cold she felt or how awful the stench was. 

After a while she saw the sun arrive on the horizon.  Beautiful collars splashed across a canvas. A
godlike artwork. Rosalind breathed deeply in and waited for her sorrows to disappear.

Then, as if struck by lightning she swiftly spun around. Aggravated hoots could be heard all around her. Some even flew away from her. They had not expected their statue to move again. Rosalind could feel the angry glances of the owls. She carefully stroke the head of one of the closest owls, as if giving it an apology.

She shook her shoulders to look less tense. ‘No one should ever see me like this. The rules still apply and the honour must be kept intact.’ Rosalind quickly patted her pockets for a ribbon and tied her hair into a half updo. She had found a liking to styling her hair into these elegant Viking braids. And now no one would see, that she had let the wind play with her hair for hours. Everything tight in place. She stroked her cloak one more time and pulled her hood up. As if to reassure herself that everything would be okay in time.

Then she took tentative steps towards the stairs. Carefully, she secured her grip on the railing, never trust icy stairs. ‘Rule number one: always be careful, no one can see you fail.’ Her gaze was locked with the first step as she set her foot precisely in the middle of it. Rosalind could hear slight shuffling and looked up. But she couldn’t see anyone. "Probably still too far away", she mumbled and shook her shoulders slightly. She continued on her path carefully.


Then out of nowhere, she heard a loud cry and mumbling followed it. Rose couldn’t understand the words. They were clearly too far away. Rose held unto the stone railing and hosted herself partly over them. She was trying see were the cry for help had come from. ‘There! Just passed that slippery turn.’, she thought. Rosalind eyes widened in concern.

“Are you okay? Do you need help?”, she shouted. Her concern was clear in her tone.

Minutes passed and she still had not received any answer. Her question even seemed to echo around the halls. Still she received no answer. Rosalind looked around one more time at where she imagined the cry had come from. She leaned her body just a little more over the railing. Then suddenly she could feel herself slipping a little, just an inch. But it was enough to send her heart sky rocking. Her eyes widened and her grip on the railing increased even more. Her fingers whitening with the effort to keep herself safe. This could have ended badly. Slowly she set herself safely back on her feet. Then after having successfully unravelled a particularly dangerous situation, she let out a little sigh of content. Nothing better to get the heart racing, even if the slip had been slightly scary. She still slightly overlooked the railings. Still clearly insight of any possible onlookers from below.

Rose carefully rubbed her eyes. She felt so drained already. But that is what hours of brooding in the cold could do for a person. Even if they were used to these conditions. Had the letter thrown her of so much that she imagined the cry for help? But then almost when she lost hope, a faint stuttering could be heard. It was so faint, so silent, that Rose felt grateful that her hearing had picked it up.
“U-Uhm, I’m not sure. I feel a little dizzy.” This made the veela perk up again. It had been uttered so long after her own response and seemed so weak. Did they lose consciousness? If they did… ‘God, imagine the pain they might be in.’ Rose slightly shook her shoulders, already familiar with how much pain to expect and what to do to help. Rose glimpsed over the railing again. Her silver-white hair slightly falling over the edges. Then she could faintly hear. “A-are you m-my guardian angel?” Rosalind eyes widened. She must be really out of her mind. “Just hold on, I’m coming to you.” Rosalind cried out.

Carefully she went down the slippery stairs, every step as precise as the ones before. Racing towards the sound with every bone in her body. The veela could see little ice clouds after every hurried breath. Rosalind slowed down slightly when she reached a letter, still curled almost if it was stuck in its fall. After some consideration Rose could see how carefully constructed it was. A letter to a loving and warm family. It looked to be handled with care, but now the edges of it were slightly crumbled and wet. Rose quickly wiped the snow remains of off it and tried to ease the dog-ear out of it. Then her glance shifted and she began observing the damage that was done to the victim itself. She quickly pocketed the letter in her robe, the top of it still visible, as she hurried to the girl and crouched next to her.

“No one called me a guardian angel before.” Rose sheepishly said, as she tucked a stray hair away. “But I can try, if you want.” She added. “Do you need some help getting up?” Then she offered her hand, palms up, as if the girl was a slightly spooked creature. In Rose’s defence the girl still looked out of it and had just called her an angel. She looked at the girl with a slightly confused gaze, not sure how she would react.