hail the ides of march solo fin.

15th March 2026.

As always, the stationery is the finest Livia owns – perhaps some of the finest she has seen at school. The fine, starch-white sheet, soft underneath her small fingers, pops as she flexes it, ensuring no wrinkles mar its surface. She flattens it against her desk, a rare smile – that could, in fact, aptly be monikered a beam – having cemented itself firmly upon her lips. Her eyes rake over the unblemished sheet as if it is nourishment waiting to be devoured.

She does not take her teeth to it. Instead, she reaches for a quill just as fine as the stationery – pruned to perfection, white as snow, sharp as a hunter's knife – and, with precarious precision, dips its nib into the inkwell situated to her right. Her arm and fingers, though skinny and lacking the tone of muscle, do not falter; each letter bleeds upon the page, creating sharp, defined script.

But today is a special day. Julian – Julik, her beloved little Julenka – has turned nine. It is with each swoop of nib and ink on smooth parchment that Livia inks herself a personal vow. Every year, without fail, she will write to him. Every year, she will painstakingly – lovingly – carve her dearest, most darling brother a figurine.

Electing a fine wood for this particular creation had required the utmost research; upon learning of its association with utter goodness, Livia had solicited part of a large, fallen branch of rowan to assist her endeavour. Then, before bed, every day for the better part of a month, she had retrieved her carving tools from her trunk. Her preferred medium being stone, she had not carved wooden creatures before; however, Livia lacked a desire to cover her dormitory with fines. Every action was methodical: she spread a small towel over her trunk, and, ridding herself of her perfect posture for some time, she began to whittle away at the wood until a puffin began to form.

The puffin sits behind the inkwell, its large beak nearly overshadowing the dark ink. Livia did not deign to paint it; that is for little Julenka to do.

15^th March 2026

Julenka:

I must extend to you the warmest wishes for this upcoming year of yours. Nine – nine! Just think, you are one year closer to joining me here. There are other things you are also a year closer to – adulthood, for one – but most of those pain me to think of. I hope you have not grown too much since I returned home for the winter holidays!

Nonetheless, I do hope this day develops exceedingly well for you. You have been nothing but the brightest beacon in my life; surely, our parents would feel similarly. Every day without you, I feel a bit like a lifeboat strung about on a raging sea. Our parents are quite fortunate to still be in your presence, Julenka.

I hope you are able to enjoy your favourite cake today – the chocolate one, with honeyed frosting, no? Sweet like you. Perhaps I shall bake another one for you over the Easter holidays. Anything for you, my dear brother, anything.

Enclosed is a woodcarving of a puffin. I encourage you to paint it should you wish; if not, simply enjoy it.

You mean the world to me, Julenka, and I hope that the world gives you everything today.

Devotedly,

Livia