One of Many PV Erast Yan

The lulling coos of resting owls. The light scratch and swirl of the tip of an ink-dipped quill against fresh parchment. The sweet hum of maltose candy on his tongue. The light brushing of mid-day winds over his hair and cheeks. Sensations that, in this quiet place, now represent “peace”. Not emptiness, not mundanity, but peace. That, in itself, was strange. It was strange that letter writing could feel so calming, because it hadn't been so long ago. Writing letters used to be an exhausting ordeal. Back when they were unspoken laments and frustrations scrawled and poured into sheets of crumpled parchment, when ink often stained his skin and the quill would inscribe its unsung requiem for hours on end. Perhaps it was the long-yearned taste of freedom, or the notion that someone far from here still thought of him, but letter writing was now so, so much more different. The pleasant buzz of quiet enveloped him like a blanket, far gentler compared to the stale, static silence that drowned him at the estate. It was… nice.

Erast hummed in contentment, gently petting a tawny owl that had come to nudge at the envelopes in his hand. One was addressed to the oldest of his younger sisters, Peixian, who had been complaining of his absence and her missing his stories by the fireplace. He huffed fondly, coaxing the tawny owl into accepting his letters for the owl treat in his palm. If only that were true. His sisters would yearn or want for nothing if the clan had anything to say about it. He himself would implore his governess to ensure it, if it came down to it. The other letter was for his governess, who had, in sending countless chiding letters about the importance of maintaining her studies, seemed to fret more than she let on over his first months alone. It must be strange, being such a reputable governess and sending a ward into a world that had no place for him. That thought churned uncomfortably in his chest.

The curious owl pecked at his envelopes, but this time, Erast nudged it away gently with another treat. He would rewrite these letters another time. Just as he tidied up and got ready to head back into the Great Hall for a quick meal, a girl dashed into the Owlery in a frenzy. He startled, stepping aside in alarm. It didn't seem like she noticed him at all as the sound of frantic scribbling on parchment filled the air, and the brunet felt obliged to look away from the scene to give her privacy. For a moment, Erast pondered slipping out before he was discovered and scolded for intruding on this private moment. After all, meddling was the master killer of fools, and his governess raised no fool.

A silent step inched towards the doorway. Then came the frantic tears. Tearful, unfiltered pleas for her owl to reach her family filled the Owlery. Erast froze. The brunette’s owl screeched and squawked at its owner, concerned beneath its stubborn insistence. The letters in his robes burned with a vengeance, and his chest tightened. The sobs rung in his ears, dragging up wisps of a past that he had been burying. Memories of a childhood that yearned for the moments where expectant, tear-filled eyes of sisters will be directed his way, for those short moments where life had a purpose. If Erast had left then, he might have succeeded with a merely dented conscience. Instead, he made the fatal mistake of looking at the girl.

Hazel eyes shimmered with tears that trailed down flushed cheeks, and clenched in shaking hands the letter that was written in that earlier frenzy. For a second, it was no longer a stranger he saw, but a far more familiar girl that he had left behind.

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” The reassurance slipped off his tongue, voice smooth as velvet. Before his rational mind could pull him back, a hand went to pat gently at her hands where they crumpled her letter.

“I’m sure he'll help you deliver your letter in just a minute. He just needs a little push.” Erast retrieved a few pieces of owl treats from his pocket, and gingerly offered it in front of the grumpy owl with a coaxing hum – Caramel, he remembered her calling it. He opened his palm just in case the girl wanted to take one too.

“Owls seem to be quite sensitive. Caramel probably wants to make sure you're okay,” He glanced at the girl’s expression, his lips instinctively curled in a gentle, encouraging smile. Slowly, he reached to help straighten the crumpled envelope in her hands, making sure his movements are light enough that she can see his hand or choose to pull away. As he did it, awareness crashed over him. What was he doing? His shoulders tensed, his fingers faltered.

“I'm sure that letter will reach your family safely. Your owl seems to like you, so it'll do a good job,” Erast's hands tucked themselves back, the awkwardness making him fidget with the letters tucked in his pockets. In his nervousness, his accent coated his words heavily, and English felt cloying on his tongue.

“Sorry, I can… get going, if you're both okay,” Erast’s eyes subconsciously turned away, embarrassed at his intrusion on the other's privacy and moment of distress hitting him.

Strange. That was the word to describe the situation that Erast had landed himself in on what was supposed to be a peaceful escape from the world beyond this spiralling tower. With a hand-straightened envelope in hand, and the affectionate exchange between owl and owner happening before him, the brunet felt sorely out of place, as if he had intruded on a private moment once again. Though, the feeling would not be unfamiliar to him. He often found himself in such a position, where he stood as an outlier and served as little but an awkward intruder till he was needed once more. Experience had earned him patience, accumulated over the years and strengthened enough to keep him rooted where he stood. The sweet interaction made the letters hidden away in his sleeves burn. He fidgeted slightly to shift the small weight deeper into his robes.

“That’s good to hear. It has been quite difficult for everyone, since it’s only our first month at school,” Erast waved his hand in calming dismissal of the thanks. Reassurance rolled off his tongue like warmed butter, a second nature to him. “We first-years have to help each other.”

Handing back the letter, he smiled once more, “Shall we try again? Dinner will last long enough for us to return before it’s over. I have more paper and ink if you’d like to write another one too.” He turned around to look at his previous, claimed spot, only to sigh when he saw a pair of barn owls in it preening and gnawing on what he could only identify to be a rodent jerky. Oh dear. Nervously chuckling, “I’ll… clean a spot first if you plan to, of course. Haha…”

Upon meeting the girl’s eyes again, Erast startled slightly. “Ah, oh no… I forgot to introduce myself again,” He fumbled slightly to extend a hand to the girl, “I am Erast Y-... Yes, Erast. Nice to meet you.” His tongue resisted the sound of his family name, and he swallowed it down with a mask of sunny friendliness. Unfamiliar with the motion, his hand wavered strangely in the air for a bit.

Strange emotions seeped into Erast's awareness at the brunette's contemplative gaze at the crumpled envelope. A small part of him wondered if he himself had ever looked like that in his own quiet moments, tearful whilst clutching a letter inked with misery. He, too, kept a collection of heartfelt letters, all creased with their papers stiffened beyond recognition by liquid salt and unfortunate ink splatters. He understood.

“Lovely idea,” was the boy's supportive reply to the girl's decision to rewrite the letter, his smile steady as before. Erast went to sweep away the dusty stray feathers and unknown, brittle chunks where he had been to give the girl some room to do so. He had been ready to retract his hand, but was surprised when he turned to witness the brunette's awkward action of dry-patting her hands to shake his own. The boy would be a liar if he said that this strange girl wasn't oddly endearing despite how their interaction had begun.

“Always nice to meet fellow students,” Erast nodded, his gaze the image of mellow friendliness. He gave her hand exactly two steady,polite shakes before retracting, a smile never leaving his lips.

Glancing at the dimming skies beyond the tower, Erast would turn to Corrine with a nod towards the staircase once she had posted her newest letter back to her family.

“I suppose we're both long due for dinner. Walk with me, Corrine?”