A Sealed Summer
@Giovanni De’LucaAugust 11, 2025Dear Giovanni De’Luca,
Hello Giovanni, I hope that this letter finds you in well spirits and that your summer is going well. I know that you sadly couldn’t come to summer camp which is sad as I’m sure you would have loved it so I decided to tell you how it’s going so far!
So first off is I got to help! Set up the carnival games there so many cool and incredible games there my personal favorite is diadem toss according to what I learned it’s like the muggle game ring toss but we made the rings look like Ravenclaws Diadem pretty cool right ? And I even got to help paint the booth so it has an astronomy like aesthetic! There is so many cool things here there’s this cool derby race happening too I’m very interested in that and I get to play in an unofficial qudditch match! I’m so excited!
Now that ive told you a bit about the summer camp and I promise to go into more detail in my next letter i have a few questions for you!
1. What are you up too this summer ?
2. Do you have any favorite sweets or something you enjoy ?
3. How interesting is the De’Luca manor ?
And finally my final questions do you have a favorite song you listen to ?
Love From your dear friend
Damien Dragonclaw.
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A Sealed Summer
_GDL_ |
───────────────────────────────────────────────── The letter came late afternoon. It had been delivered by hand; though all correspondence to the De'Luca estate originally arrived in the family owlery, a lofty, sun-bathed tower that stood behind the western gardens, near the servants' quarters, where precisely 6 different owls waited patiently upon perfectly polished perches. Eyes large and round, feathers glinting, like freshly dripped ink upon parchment. Letters and parcels arrived there first, deposited by each owl before the gloved hand of an attendant waved a wand to organise them into neatly stacked piles. From here, they would float behind an attendee who’d make his or her way around the estate, delivering whomever these letters and parcels belonged to. The system was born out of the efforts of Giovanni’s great-great-aunt Octavia, in 1940, who considered every owl to be a major threat to her safety and security. She shrieked at flapping shadows, and on occasion attempted to negotiate with the owls themselves, leaving the household in no doubt that her fear was absolute, unchanging, and entirely impervious to reason. She'd reportedly once even barricaded herself in the linen cupboard after an owl attempted to land on her shoulder, and after that, vigorously prompted the estate to adopt what is now politely known as the ‘no-contact owl policy’. A servant, clad in pale-blue robes and a matching service cap trimmed with gold and vermillion, stepped quietly into the drawing room. He knocked once, bowing with exacting formality, before approaching Giovanni and placing the letter on the dark oak side table to his right. He then withdrew, shutting the door with a precise click and leaving Giovanni with the same impression of a prison guard locking an inmates cell. The feeling only grew stronger as he turned his head back to Professor Vespasiano, who looked further irritated upon interruption and was now wiping the lenses of his glasses for the 7th time in the past 10 minutes. Giovanni took the opportunity to yawn widely without covering his mouth while the old man's vision was compromised. His eyes kept flickering to the table next to him, the handwriting catching him off guard. It was neat, careful, unfamiliar. That alone piqued his curiosity. The drawing room where his lessons took place was cold despite the Tuscan summer. Cool on places like his collarbones and wrists, where the sun had burnt him yesterday. His violin was tucked beneath his chin, bow placed with disciplined elegance across the strings, and Giovanni glanced up as he waited for Professor Vespasiano to flick through his notes, his eyes flickering across the high ceilings of stone and shadow, across the shutters half-drawn against the glare outside. Light slipped in regardless, thin and honeyed at this hour, striping the parquet floor, and Giovanni shuffled his foot, cutting into the sunlight and feeling its warmth against him. He was bored. Intensely so. Professor Vespasiano cleared his throat suddenly, and Giovanni was startled from his reverie of boredom, snapping his neck down from the ceiling to see his teacher eyeing him; stiff-backed and severe, his eyes sharp with expectation. Giovanni played beautifully when he wished to, but today he did not particularly wish to at all. Every few minutes, he allowed a note to sour, just barely, the sort of mistake that could not be accused outright but could not be ignored either. Each time, the man’s composure fractured a little more: a tightening mouth, a breath drawn too sharply through the nose, a flush creeping steadily up his neck, and Giovanni noticed all of it, grinning to himself whenever the man's back was turned, and taking pleasure in seeing his face fade through colours of raspberry to plum. He had got bored of this rather quickly, though, once the letter had arrived, and all his spare energy had been directed into eliminating who it could and could not be from, and so, the rest of the lesson dragged. He barely heard the sharp corrections, the fuss and rustle of sheet music, the tap of the baton against the stand. His attention had already drifted. His fingers itched. The envelope sat there, untouched, quietly provocative. The end of the lesson finally came, and his violin was set aside; his teacher gathering his things with clipped, offended movements, muttering about discipline and wasted potential, while Giovanni barely listened. He took the letter and wandered out, through the tall doors and into the garden, leaving the sound of disapproval behind him. The heat outside made its presence known. The stony pathway that he walked on was warm to the touch; the hedges were cut with a perfection that bordered on the obsessive. The atmosphere pulsed with scents: lavender and rosemary hung heavy with dust and sunlight. Giovanni broke the seal as he walked. The name caught his attention first. Damien. For a moment, nothing else followed. No immediate recognition. He read on, brow furrowing faintly, the letter spilling over with enthusiasm - summer camp, carnival games, painted booths, astronomy themes, diadem tosses explained in earnest detail. Halfway through, memory stirred. A boy. Ravenclaw. Talkative. Too sincere for his own good. He stopped walking when he reached the end, the abrupt halt kicking dust from the garden walkway up into the air and tickling his nose. He sneezed. The word love had been written, then carefully crossed out. Replaced. He stared at it longer than he intended to, lifting it to the sun, cocking his head in the manner one might consider a curious insect trapped beneath glass. Why write it at all? Why strike it through? Embarrassment, perhaps. Or hesitation. Or the sudden awareness of writing to someone who did not invite sentiment easily. Did it even say ‘love’ ? Or was it a trick of the light? Was he being presumptuous? “Giovanni!” He jumped, startled, folding the letter in a hurry and shoving it into his pocket. His mother was calling from the upstairs window, and he had to squint his eyes to look up at her, the light penetrating the blue-green of his irises and making them water. “Oui maman?” “Qu’est-ce que tu fais à traîner ? Viens ici." What are you doing dwadling around? Come here. He waited till she had retreated from the shutters before frowning sulkily and making a face up at the window that most definitely would have warranted a slap should she have seen it. What was even the point of summer? If not to lie around and ‘dawdle’ as much as one liked? He crept in the back way through the kitchens, his eyes adjusting from the bright outside as he removed his shoes and slipped up to his bedroom, ignoring his mother. He’d pay later, but who cared? Perhaps it was teenage rebellion that was creeping upon him, or perhaps fatigue at his mother's administration. His room upstairs welcomed him with a chill silence. Pale blue walls dimmed the sunlight gently, the colour reminiscent of Florence mornings, washed skies, shuttered windows, marble warmed slowly by the sun. Heavy curtains framed the tall window, stirring faintly with the movement of air. A gilded mirror leaned against the far wall, catching his reflection as he passed: sun-warmed, restless, the careful stillness of childhood giving way to something tighter, more deliberate. His desk was neat in a deliberate way, quills arranged in a silver holder, bottled ink dark and glossy, paper stacked precisely. The faint scent of eucalyptus lingered, pressed into the room by heat and habit. He closed the door behind him and seated himself. Taking up his quill, he hesitated a moment, then began to write. Damien, I received your letter. Summer has been quiet. Hot. Long. I’ve been occupied with lessons and very little else. Camp sounds… lively. Pepper Imps, if anything. Or any raspberry-flavoured sweets. The Manor is old and predictable. Music depends on the day, but at the moment, ‘Would I Lie to You?’ by Charles & Eddie. What about you? Did you win the Quidditch match, or merely survive it? And is the diadem toss actually difficult, or just decorative? -G.D.L He placed the quill aside and allowed the ink to dry. ────────────────────────────────────────────────── | _GDL_ |
Last edited by Giovanni De'Luca on 30 Dec 2025, 18:52, edited 2 times in total.
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚Star-pale, celestial, neither flesh nor blood.⋆⭒ ࣪ .⋆
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A Sealed Summer
Made by the amazing Matthew Campbell
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When Damien had agreed to help with the summer camp he knew it would be pretty tough but he was absolutely exhausted, just setting up the carnival was tough as he had to make sure all the rides and booths all worked fine and had no issues before the students get to play on them. But mixed with this hot summer heat beaming down on him he felt and him standing on his feet while help operating the rides had left him creatively and physically drained. So you would think he would be delighted when he gets back to his tent and could lay down and relax but that was undoubtably impossible as he still had his tent mates to deal with, normally he would be absolutely thrilled to meet new people and chat with him but this day already felt like a dementor had sucked all of the happiest out of his soul and he honestly wasn't quite sure how much longer he could put on a brave face. As he moved sluggishly towards his tent he made the fatal decision to go take himself a shower in the bathhouse near their tent. He thought that it could help rejuvenate him and bring back that energy that he was currently missing. He finally made his way inside of his tent he noticed how his tent mates was currently not there so he was delighted as it meant he could stop the fake smile he had practiced so many times when out in public with his father at events where all he could do is smile. Speaking of his father that was the biggest positive about this summer camp, it kept him away from that man. Ever since the owl in March which express his distain for Damien and how as much as he was concern Damien wasn't his son anymore the tension and the rift between them was noticeable. Damien was surprised he held his tongue for so long but he knew the outcome if he mange to set his father ablaze, he outcome....Wouldn't be good from his past experiences so he knew he needed to get away from him so he was extremely thankful for the summer camp as it gave him an opportunity to be free of his control. He quickly grabbed his towel as well as soap and shampoo and his hair cream which helped kept his hair in its nice somewhat curls before heading off to the bathhouse. As he turned on the water he let out a sigh of relief as he was in pure blitz. The water running down his body felt like kisses from angels with the way it ran down his body leaving it warmth all around him, as well as the aroma of citrus filling the air as he ran his hands through his scalp using his lemon and lime shampoo. After he stayed in the bathhouse for a few moment's collecting his thoughts before he turned off the water and began to slowly dry off before putting his clothes on and heading back to his tent the lingering scent of citrus all around him. As he entered the tent he looked so relived to see it empty not a person or object in sight, all except a letter that was placed neatly on his bed. His steps felt heavy as he moved his way towards this letters as many thoughts ran through his mind like what if the letter from his father or what if it was a prank by one of his tent mates. As all of these scenarios ran through his mind he quickly grabbed the letter examining it as the name brought immediate recognition to his face, Giovanni De'Luca. He immediately remembered the older Ravenclaw from their first encounter in the courtyard when Damien was reading his astronomy book back in his first year, Damien wouldn't forget a face like that as he was quite the charmer in the way he spoke as well as his good looks. He quickly stopped himself as it was quite embarrassing when he got that way. He realized from a young age he was different from others but it wasn't till years later he realized he was bisexual, just picturing Giovanni's face with that devilish charming smile helped back this claim. He quickly shook his head as a faint blush appeared on his cheeks as he thought to himself. Quit with these silly thoughts now is NOT the time. He slowly sat down at the little desk in the tent as he used his letter opener to break the seal as he slowly take out the folded parchment and read it, the main things that stood out to Damien was the sweets Giovanni mentioned as he happened to have a bag of pepper imps his mother had sent him along with one of her best sellers, the raspberry croissant which was currently wrapped neatly in this purple and gold foil and was charmed not to go rotten when traveling with an owl during deliveries. He slowly took out his own piece of parchment before he took out his quill and looked down for his ink bottle, he didn't know where his black ink bottle was so he figured he'd write with this purple ink bottle that gave it a stary like texture on the parchment. Dear Giovanni, It is wonderful to hear from you again, and yes i do agree with you it is quite hot over here as well but i do wish it was more quiet in my tent as with my tent mates i sadly can't hear myself think. Camp is very lively and that's truly is a shame being stuck doing lessons all summer...i too know how you feel from my past summers at home with my father. Those are great sweet choses in fact my mother has just sent me one of her famous raspberry croissants i shall send you that as well as some other treats so I hope you enjoy and I'll be pleased to hear what you think of my mothers treats. We did in fact win the quidditch match so I'm very happy for that considering it was my first time playing it will give me experience before i try out next year at Hogwarts, do you like quidditch or do any sports ? As for diadem toss its pretty simple but is some what difficult as you have to toss the diadem onto the head of Rowena Ravenclaw so some find it difficult but i have no doubt you'd do greatly at it. I look forward to hear more about your summer. Warm wishes, D.O.D He folded the parchment neatly as the smell of citrus lingered on the parchment as he put it into a envelope and melted blue wax on it before stamping the Dragonclaw crest onto it as he grabbed a box and packed the peppered imps as well as the raspberry croissant into the box along with some chocolates before closing it and tying the letter to the box as he picked it up and headed to the owlery to send it off. | ☆ ⋆｡ ° ★ ✮ ⋆˙ ✦ ✶ ⋆.˚ |
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| IC date: 11th of August | Interactions: @Giovanni De'Luca |
| English: #0056d6 | Thoughts: Italics |
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A Sealed Summer
_GDL_ |
───────────────────────────────────────────────── The reply came quickly, alongside a box tied with pale blue ribbon and smelling faintly of raspberries. Giovanni was handed the package by the courier in the sunlit stretch between the dining room and the library just as he emerged mid-morning, fresh from half an hour of feigned French practice under his mother’s unblinking, devotional gaze. He straightened his collar irritably, feeling hot and bothered as if he’d been running around, despite having sat still for the better part of 30 minutes. The sun cast golden-white streaks down the line of the hallway, teasing of the fresh summer gardens outside, and a sliver of it fell across the top of his hair, lending his dark waves a subtle shimmer that contrasted against the faintly powdered blue of his summer waistcoat. He unbuttoned the top two silver clasps, keeping an eye out for his mother, and made a mental note to shuck it off as soon as he stepped outside into the gardens and out of her sight. He hadn’t even gotten a proper look at the box when Lucrezia descended upon him at once, as if summoned by some private instinct for inconvenience. His features shifted rather quickly into the default sort of irritation that it curved into whenever she was near. He swivelled on the spot as she came up behind him, and took her in with a look of distaste spread across his handsome features. She had pinned something absurdly frilled into her hair; lace or chiffon, he couldn’t tell, making her look every bit the spoiled caricature she delighted in being. Giovanni wrinkled his nose. The sight of it made his stomach turn. “What have you got there?” she asked, her tone already soured with the sort of nastiness that made it clear she had no intention of waiting for an answer, and he was right, for before the final syllable had left her lips, she lurched forward, heel grinding squarely onto his shoe, fingers snatching the parcel from his grasp with triumphant vulgarity. “Oi!” Giovanni snapped loudly, the pain in his toes blooming sharp and immediate up his calf as he lunged to reclaim it. “None of your business, espèce d’andouille, go away.” Then, with a childish cruelty he knew even as he said it: “And your skirt looks dreadful. You look like a frilly sewer rat.” He swept past her before she could retaliate, nose upturned, ducking into his father’s study where the air was always cooler, heavy with the scent of leather and dust. Pulling open the first drawer with unnecessary force, he rummaged until his fingers closed around an old silver letter opener, floral patterns curling along the handle, a date engraved, faintly visible, on the back. The metal flashed briefly in the light as he sliced through the envelope's seam, flicking it open with practised impatience. Lucrezia reappeared in the doorway then, leaning against the frame with the lazy persistence of someone who had nothing better to do and took pride in it. She was wearing mismatched socks, he noticed, and then suddenly felt a flare of anger rise up his spine at the implication that his mother had seen this, and still let her wander, while a hair out of place on Giovanni’s head would have sent her into a frenzy. He despised the disparity in expectations between them. He turned, seeing her smug expression and scowling, wondering whether the long summer hours had finally eroded what little substance she possessed, leaving only boredom sharpened into spite. “What’s wrong, is it from your girrrlfriend?” She dragged the r until it soured, the sound needling beneath his skin. He felt like a cat with all its hairs on end, and it stirred a memory of younger years of her pilfering things from his room only to break them apart for the simple pleasure of watching him react. Heat rose to his face. Without answering, he stalked around the desk and pushed past her, tucking the box firmly under his arm as he headed for the stairs. He’d open it in private, away from her prying eyes and smart mouth. But she wouldn't let him go that easily. “Show me, show me,” she insisted, skipping forward into his path, the frilly bow in her hair waving tauntingly at him as she hopped from foot to foot, her doll-like face alight with glee. Giovanni wanted to rip it from her hair and throw it out of the window. She jabbed a finger into his side where she knew he was ticklish, and he bent away sharply, scowling as he fought to keep the parcel out of reach, his irritation flaring at her knowledgeable poke in the spot that always made him twitch. “Get out of my way, you brat.” He paused just long enough to sweep his gaze around for any sign of their mother’s silent surveillance, and, finding none, jabbed his elbow into Lucrezia’s side. Quite hard, he made sure. She squealed, half pain, half outrage, and made a desperate grab for the hem of his shirt, but he slipped free by a hair’s breadth, taking the stairs two at a time. He shut his bedroom door harder than intended, and was greeted by sunlight that pooled across the cream carpet from his window in uneven rectangles, and his shadow fell pale and elegant against it, tracing a faint outline of the aristocratic poise he carried despite himself. He set both the box and the letter down on his desk and stared at them. The ribbon on the box was a pale blue, tied crookedly enough that it immediately ruled out any of his relatives having sent it. His aunts' parcels, for instance, arrived meticulous as ever, sealed in a pale lilac wax, stamped so hard with her initial that it often left a bruise on the paper beneath. The seal on this letter was blue. Softer around the edges, the mark unfamiliar to him. Giovanni frowned before pulling the box's ribbon free and lifting the lid. The smell reached him first, that same one from earlier, only now stronger. Raspberries, he was sure. He reached in, eyebrows flying up as he pulled out various sweets; a bag of pepper imps, a croissant (presumably raspberry-filled) that was wrapped in purple and gold foil, its surface smooth, untouched by travel, and some chocolates. Somehow, it was one of the best things Giovanni had ever received. It wasn't loud or grand. It was thoughtful. And he had not expected to be remembered so exactly. He reached for the letter, then stared in surprise as the parchment unfolded and the ink caught the light. Purple, smooth, a fine, starry sheen. Giovanni paused, tipping the page slightly, feeling like a mesmerised toddler as he watched the shimmer shift. How brilliant. He hadn't come across this before, and could imagine his mother's outrage at him writing in anything but standard black or blue ink. Traditional, she would say. Boring, Giovanni thought. Without quite realising he was doing it, he ran his finger along the margin, following the sparkle and huffing a quiet breath through his nose, half a laugh. He sat down on his bed and leaned up against the headboard, flicking a chocolate into his mouth and shaking the letter fully open with his other hand. The letter spilt word of the noise in the tent. The summer heat. Camp, lively and exhausting in equal measure. The mention of Damien’s mother, and of past summers at home with his father, which struck something quiet and familiar in Giovanni’s chest. He read on, slower now. The Quidditch match, won. The diadem toss, explained with earnest precision. Interesting. There was easy warmth threaded through every line, and then to finish, warm wishes. Giovanni stared at the words long after he’d finished reading, then started on a reply. Damien, Congrats on your win. Your letter arrived safely, along with the assortment of sweets, which I will admit was unexpected but pleasing. Do send your mother my thanks. Did she send you all of those? She sounds nice. I hope you saved some for yourself. I must admit, the ink with which you wrote is remarkable. It's almost like a night sky captured on parchment. Where did you acquire it? I am intrigued. To answer your question, yes, I am a fan of Quidditch. I am guessing you are too, since you participated in the sport at camp. Do you support a specific team? I don't have much to report, only that my sister has taken to annoying me at every opportunity. I think the stifling summer sun and the suffocating stillness of the manor are getting to her too. There is a certain satisfaction in me knowing she is not immune either. Anyway, your letter provided a rare distraction from lessons and the monotony of the manor, for which I am grateful. -G.D.L Perhaps he should have begged his father to let him stay at Hogwarts summer camp, where children were actually allowed to enjoy the summer sun and pass their days in golden, untroubled joy. Anywhere would have been preferable to this house, with its prowling sisters, watchful mothers, and the suffocating stillness that seemed to seep from every polished corner and gilded surface, as though even the house knew better than to step out of line. ────────────────────────────────────────────────── | _GDL_ |
ooc pinterest . ency . playlist . owl |
*ੈ✩‧₊˚Star-pale, celestial, neither flesh nor blood.⋆⭒ ࣪ .⋆
|
A Sealed Summer
Made by the amazing Matthew Campbell
| ☆ ⋆｡ ° ★ ✮ ⋆˙ ✦ ✶ ⋆.˚ |
Damien had finally made his way back to his tent after a long day at the carnival, he decided to call it an early afternoon for now and allowed the others to watch over the carnival while he went back to his tent to have himself a few hours just to himself since his tent mates were all still out doing there own thing around the summer camp. As he walked towards the tent he noticed an owl waiting there with a letter that had a seal on it he immediately recognized as the De’Luca family crest. He cursorily took the letter from the owl giving it quick little head scratches before he made his way inside of the tent. He began to traverse towards the desk before perching himself in the chair as he began to ease open the envelope to make sure he didn’t ruin the parchment inside. He desired a letter opener at moments like these but he sadly did not have his currently on hand so for now he would just have to be delicate as he could possible be as if this letter was a fragile doll. As he unfolded the parchment being opened to the beautiful hand writings of Giovanni’s that he had come to recognize so far. His eyes began to examine the words on this peice of parchment finding himself quite amused how he seemed to enjoy the sweets he sent after all but also captivated at the news that Giovanni had a sister or any siblings for that fact. He elegantly opened the desk drawer grabbing himself a piece of parchment and his blue quill before dipping it into his ink and begin writing. Giovanni, I would like to thank you on congratulating me on my quidditch win even though it wasn’t an official match it was technically my first ever match so I’m truly thrilled about it and it might even give me more experience if I make the Ravenclaw team this year. It pleases me to hear that the sweets were to you’re liking, I especially hope you’ll enjoy the pepper imps as well as the raspberry croissant as it should still be fresh and warm actually which might give it a very strong smell due to the charms my mother puts on all her packaging to ensure it is fresh even while being delivered. Speaking of my mother she did send me lots of sweets as she wanted me to share with my friends and I consider you a friend and thought it could help make your summer a little more enjoyable. As for the ink I use it’s called The Starry Night, it is based off of that famous painting by the same name by that muggle artist Van Gogh. I think my mother brought it from a shop in Italy as she’s mentioned going there a few times though I’m not truly sure for what. The next time I owl her I’ll ask where the shop was but I have many bottles on me so I’d be happy to send you some as well as a few quills that work really well with this type of ink it honestly is a miracle as to how smooth it is, but thank you for the compliment on it as she got me it due to in her words reminding her of the stars I always seem fascinated in. I do not support a specific team at the moment but I also haven’t truly got to experience many games in person either so once I see a few more in person I’m sure I’ll end up supporting a specific one, how about you ? I never knew you had a sister or actually siblings for that matter I don’t think it ever came up in conversations before, had i known I would have sent some sweets for her as well but it sounds like she can be a handful. I’ve always wondered what it be like to have siblings but from the sounds of you’re experience it seems like it wouldn’t be too pleasant a lot of the times. I’m glad I could help be a momentary distraction from your lessons then! If you ever get tired of being trapped in the manor I’m just an owl away and am always happy to help my friends. I’ll also send along with the ink and quills some more sweets for you’re sister as well as you as honestly I can’t eat all of these sweets myself as even if I do she’ll just send more sooner or later and I wouldn’t want my mothers hard work to go to waste. It was lovely hearing from you again I await your reply eagerly. -D.O.D.C He set the letter aside giving the ink time ri dry as he took out another box this time smaller than before as he took the lid off the top and opened the second drawer on the dresser. He pulled out a two ink bottles of The Starry Night and set them inside the box before he went into another drawer that held some of the quills he brought with him to the summer camp. He examined them careful trying to decide which ones to send before landing on a crow quill as well as an owl as the species of owl it came from was quite rare to get. Once those were inside the box he gradually got up and looked by his bed at the different sweets he had, he decided he wouldn’t want to send the exact same treats again so he chose two blueberries tarts so Giovanni could also try one as well as some chocolates and two bags of his mothers unique raspberry explosions. They were like exploding bon bon’s but instead when you ate these it felt like a bomb if flavors had just exploded all in your mouth leaving you in pure bliss at least that’s how Damien always associated it with those treats. He made his way back to the box before careful packaging those in the box also putting some foil over them to make them extra protected so noting would spoil on the trip there. He extended his arm to the parchment on the table folding it delicate and carefully as he put it into and envelope and wrote Giovanni name on the front before he turned it around and used his wax melter to melt some purple wax with flaks of gold hidden inside before he stamped the Dragonclaw seal onto it. Once that was settled he set the envelope on top of the box before grabbing a thread of purple string and neatly and elegantly tied it to the letter so the box would stay connected. He made his way outside the tent with the box and letter together in hand as he looked towards the owl and use the last bit of thread he had to tie the packet to the owl foot so it wouldn’t get lost before patting its head before speaking. “Next time you bring me a letter I’ll make sure to have something to feed you.” He gave it a quick smile before he headed back into his tent to allow himself more time to rest. | ☆ ⋆｡ ° ★ ✮ ⋆˙ ✦ ✶ ⋆.˚ |
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| IC date: 13th of August | Interactions: @Giovanni De'Luca |
| English: #0056d6 | Thoughts: Italics |
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