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The Day the Letter Came Closed

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@Rhea Miller
December 22, 2020
Calypso wandered up the staircase in the West Tower, until she reached the Owlery. She clutched in her hand the letter she had written in response to the one that had arrived from her family at breakfast that morning. As she stepped through the arched door frame, her skin was greeted by a chill breeze. There was no glass in the windows up here, and it was considerably colder than it had been in the stairwell. The fresh air was nice, however, and Calypso took a deep breath of it. She shivered. She hadn't thought to bring a cloak, forgetting the openness of the Owlery to the elements. Now she was regretting it. Calypso stepped further into the room, and now a smell far less pleasant than that of the initial breese met her nose. This was the scent that inevitably occurs whenever a large amount of animals share a living space. It wasn't unbearable, being lessened considerably by the breeze from the glassless windows; and with a slight twinge of homesickness Calypso found it reminded her of her neighbor's barn. There were cubbies all along the walls for the messenger owls, about half of them occupied. There were several breeds and many sizes, and every few minutes one of the birds would fly in through a window. With a pang of desperate sadness, Calypso recalled her mother's letter:
Dear Cal,
Honey, I am so sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm afraid I'm writing with bad news. Auntie Meribel has taken ill, and I'm not going to lie, it's serious. She has pneumonia. And she's in the hospital. Getting the best care available to her, ok? You are going to have to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Her condition does not appear to be life-threatening at the moment, but we'll send for you immediately if that changes. Maud has gone to live with Auntie Wilma, Auntie Lori, and the cousins. Your father and I simply need to spend all our time looking after Meribel, and the best thing you can do is stay at school, send her good thoughts, and try not to worry too much. We all love you so so much, Callie, and do please try to enjoy your holiday. Miss you sweetie,
Mom

There were a few blurred spots on the parchment where her mother's tears had fallen, and at the use of her parent's nickname for her, a wave of some unnamable emotion hit Cal.

When she had opened the letter that morning at the Gryffindor Table, Calypso had sat in shock for 30 seconds, then abruptly stood up from the bench and ran up through the castle, back to her dormitory. When her friends came after her, she ignored them until they went away. Cal had sat on her bed, expecting tears to come, but none did. After half an hour of sitting on her bed, wallowing, but not crying, she had gathered herself and her school things and headed to her first class of the day.

After classes had ended at 16:00, the young Gryffindor retreated once again to her dormitory, this time to write a response to her mother's letter.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I've rewritten this letter a handful of times, trying to find the right words. I'm not sure they exist. I finally decided to simply tell you this. Though I am sad not to be coming home to see everybody, I understand that the best place for me at the moment is here. Please tell Auntie Meribel that I love her more than the sky is vast, and I hope her recovery is fast. Oh my goodness, I just rhymed, didn't I? I'm sorry. Also, make sure you keep Maudie in the loop, ok? I know what it's like to be a kid and feel like no one will tell you anything, or be real with you. Love and miss you all,
Calypso.
The letter was somewhat businesslike for a letter to family. Cal knew this, and yet she couldn't help it. When she was upset, she was either overly emotional or closed off. right now, she didn't seem to have the energy to be emotional.

Cal walked over to a cubby in which a medium-sized barn owl was perching. "Hey there," she said quietly. "Do you think you could take this letter to my family for me?" The owl accepted her letter with a soft hoot, and after she tied it to the bird's foot, it flew off through the window to do its job.

The eleven-year-old went over to the window through which the owl had just exited, and watched the creature gracefully flap its wings it until its shape disappeared into the horizon. She sank down against the wall, still staring out the tall, glassless window. Cal rested her chin on her knees, and only now did tears begin to fall.

"I can't lose her too," Cal whispered. And the hot tears, a stark contrast against her wind-chilled skin, began to fall ever harder.
Just then, she felt a tentative hand on her shoulder, causing her to startle slightly. "Hey," said a voice, softly.
Reducio
Permission to god-mod given by @Rhea Miller
Last edited by Calypso Starling on 6 Jan 2021, 21:23, edited 1 time in total.
"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be
insane by those who could not hear the music."
The Day the Letter Came Closed
@Calypso Starling
Reducio
Permission to god-mod granted by @Calypso Starling
Rhea clutched the letter in her fist so hard she was sure it would be unreadable. The address on the back of the envelope was smeared; the parchment inside, which contained her message, was soaking wet from when she had spilled her beverage. It was with shaking hands that she had written it in her best script, with a tremble that she lifted the glass of cool water over it- the result was predictable.

She was so jittery because of a combination of anxiety and anger. It was a surge of adrenaline that she did not want nor need, though in truth, she was so furious that she could have shattered the glass with her fingers anyway. Her thoughts were scattered everywhere, like a huge metal filing cabinet had tipped over in her brain. One goal remained clear: send the letter.

It was going to go to St. Mungo's. Where her father was. That was no accident, of course.
Dear Healers-
I haven't received a response from you yet, so I'm assuming you couldn't reply. Perhaps you've gotten too many letters and couldn't write every body back. Or, maybe you've decided children are not worth your time. What ever the reason, I'm writing again to demand an update. My father, Marvin Miller, is currently in your care and I don't know how his state of health. You have been very unclear with me. As his daughter, I think I deserve answers. Please write back.
- Rhea Miller

This letter was entirely devoid of error, and Rhea was extremely proud of that. With the help of a muggle dictionary, she had worked hard to perfect her spelling and grammar. Hopefully it would not go unnoticed this time. This was her fifth letter to the hospital. It was true that she had received a letter in return once, but it was from her father, and it revealed nothing.

Dearest Rhea,
First off, thank you for taking the time to write. You've been persistent, and I've been working to get back to you. My injury has proved a real nuisance but I can assure you I am healing wonderfully. The doctors here know exactly what they're doing. How about you? Has being surrounded by magic been as exhilarating for you as it has for me?

Your spelling has improved greatly, dear. It's clear that this school's been good for your education, so I won't worry anymore. You don't worry either, okay? I'll be up on my feet in no time.

It was lovely to hear from you! I hope you're doing well and enjoying the holidays.
Love,
Your father

She had burned this one the moment she finished reading it. For one thing, it was clearly not her father who had written it. That wasn't his handwriting, nor his style of phrasing sentences. He had probably asked a healer to write it for him. For another, it told her nothing. He was healing wonderfully? Then why was it implied that he was bed-ridden? She wanted to know how he was so badly.

She couldn't lose him too. Where would she even go for the summer if she had no family?

Her footsteps were loud and furious, and her fists were so tight that her nails dug into her palms. A chilly wind hit her as she crossed the threshold of the Owlery, stinging her bare face and knocking her off balance slightly. It was cold up here. Something- a feather, maybe- hit her sclera, and she cringed. How did you get an object out of your eye? She could feel the tears welling, her face reddening. You were supposed to open them underwater, right? Unfortunately, she didn't currently have access to clean water. She began blinking rapidly. That seemed to make it worse. It was so hard to resist the impulse to rub at her eyeballs. Rhea felt like she was in the center a tornado of owls and freezing wind.

It was at that moment that she registered very quiet sniffling. Human sniffling. Someone else was in here.

She did not call out, or even make a sound. One eye squeezed shut, she felt her way along the walls until the source of the sounds came into view.

Oh no. Nonononono.

It was her friend Calypso, who she had become acquainted with near the beginning of the year. Cal sat in the floor, crying quietly. Rhea did not know Calypso to show much negative emotion, so this was an odd and uncomfortable surprise. She seemed like the type of person to be in a constantly good mood. Cal then said something unintelligible (but clearly sad) to herself. Rhea froze.

What do I do? she though frantically. Cal didn't appear to be aware of her presence yet.

Rhea wanted to be a good friend. Good friends comforted each other. Still cringing comically, tears filling up her irritated eye, she reached down to touch Cal's shoulder. Cal jumped the moment it made contact. Skating over that, Rhea whispered "Hey," as gently as she could.

Calypso turned to face her friend and gasped a little when she saw Rhea's state. "Your eye!" she gasped. Cal had tear tracked glimmering on both her cheeks and looked utterly miserable, and she was asking about Rhea's well being.

"I'm fine," said Rhea grumpily. Just then a cool gust of wind managed to get under her eyelid, and she automatically screwed up her whole face. Cal's worried look intensified.

"Just... what's wrong?" Rhea desperately tried to change the subject. Her stupid, pain-induced facial expression was better ignored. She silently tried to get the dumb feather out as Cal spoke again.
It is often said that fortune favors the bold;
If only fortune determined how stories unfold.
Fearless | Sta 6 • Eva 6 • Str 4 • Wis 8 • ArcP 5 • Acc 6
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