Just Marvelous
[font=century gothic]WHAT: Letters, texts, messages and various communications through the years
WHO: @Marshal Mozor & @Evelynn Decipio[/font]
· · ·
[font=century gothic]WHEN: July 5th, 2021[/font]
Was she really going to do this? Grey eyes peered down at a small piece of paper clutched between her hands. Crumpled and fibrous, the little piece of torn paper showed signs of significant wear as though it had been folded and unfolded, crumpled and uncrumpled time and time again. Which it had. Spanned taught between delicate fingers, it almost more resembled an aged bit of frail parchment than a week old piece of paper. A week. Had it really been that long already? Had that much time passed already since the conclusion of the school year? And still she hadn't done anything.
Why was it so hard? It was just an address. Just a letter. She'd sent so many over the years, and especially last summer that it had become something of a second nature. In many ways, it was so much easier to communicate that way. No need to control expression. She could take her time to respond, to evaluate what was written beneath the lines in the letters she received. She could set it aside for a bit then come back to it later. There was little pressure. Turn it off if it became too troublesome in the moment. And there was a certain level of excitement, as well. Whenever Janus returned with letter in tow, whenever she caught his form against the horizon, growing with every breath; or when that little tap tap at the window roused her from her slumber with the promise of a reply... it was a moment of marvel and wonder. Like cracking open a new book.
But as equally positive as it was, she hadn't forgotten the pain that came when the responses failed to come. When letter after letter was sent, and her owl returned empty taloned. When the messages sent were left on read, then...left unopened.
The paper crumpled again as hands wilted to hang listless off the end of her knees and her head lolled back to thump against the frame of her bay window. Rolling it against the wood, it tilted in the direction of the exterior, grey eyes meeting a grey dawn, rain pattering against the panes of glass. The smell of ozone reminded her of him. Every drop a reminder of just how precarious relationships—even those that had seemed solid—could be. He'd disappeared without a word. Without so much as a goodbye. Alive. Dead. She didn't even know. But she assumed the former. Hoped the former.
Was that why this was so difficult? What if it happened all over again? Aurelius, Jermaine, Woodward, Valentine, Holmwood, the others...Every time the notion of a lasting bond dangled before her, it seemed to slip away into the void, leaving her alone. And every time, she was left wondering what had happened. If it was her. If there had been an accident. If it was something else entirely.
But then again... not every time. Ami and Piérre remained constants. To a degree anyway. Neither of them had extended beyond the realm of Hogwarts. Could she even truly call them friends? Or were they more akin to close acquaintances? It was becoming difficult to distinguish the various bonds she held. She wanted to give in. Those such as Silmataurea and Alptraum, Ami and Scott, Burnett and Tan...they all had something that Evelynn envied. True bonds of unwavering loyalty and support. Not one of those individuals would question whether they had even one person who would miss them if they were gone. That was something special. Even Evelynn could acknowledge that.
Intellectually, she knew that people were a social creature and that life was not meant to walk alone. She'd even made it her mission to work on behalf of the student body and attempt to make herself available during such vulnerable times as the various events and socials throughout the school year to ensure everyone remained safe. She made herself available to them, offered tutoring and whatever inexperienced counsel she was able to provide as an unworldly thirteen year old. She had given and would continue to give until she bloodied her skin raw in the effort.
But who would be there for her? Did she even want someone there for her? To do so meant allowing herself to be vulnerable. Opening herself up to potential hurt again. Of creating a weakness that could be exploited.
And yet, that hadn't stopped her in the moment when she had made a snap decision when exiting the barrier from Platform 93/4 to seek out Marshal. Even the presence of who she had assumed to be his father hadn't deterred her. Although she had given the man a hasty bow of her head and muttered "Hello", her focus had shifted to the boy, presenting him with a piece of paper and pen and requesting his address such that she could owl him. There had been no hesitation as far as she could remember, and she wouldn't have taken no for an answer even if there had. There had been nothing significant in her swift retreat; only a promise that she would write.
A promise.
She really was going to do this, then, she supposed.
· · ·
[font=century gothic]SENT: July 5th, 2021
ADDRESSED: M. Mozor[/font]
Dear Marshal,
I hope this letter finds you well. The barn owl delivering this letter is Janus. He belongs to me. He's rather friendly, but I wouldn't recommend trying to be too terribly affectionate with him. He tends to be rather put off by strangers attempting to pat him; but do be sure to thank him for his service otherwise he may refuse to deliver to you in future. He's rather proud and tends to boycott those he finds unpleasant.
I am finally back at home. I'd like to apologize for hurrying off so quickly after we had disembarked from the train at King's Cross. I had to meet up with the rest of the members of the Headliner in order to make it to a scheduled time to take a portkey. We spent some time at the Severin manor. It really is rather remarkable just how lavishly some people live. I've always thought my own house was something for which I was very fortunate, but I don't even know how to begin describing hers. It was like something out of a film, to be sure. She had a fireplace within her own room, in fact. Even Healy—that half-giant in Hufflepuff—was dwarfed by the size of her manor. I can't imagine trying to keep that clean. Although...I suppose they can use magic, so perhaps that's really not a chore at all.
I wish we could use magic over the summer. It's really such a shame. Two months without practice, and they expect us to return to school come September as though we are freshly brushed up and able to continue on without issue. There's only so much that practicing the incantations and wand movements can get you. Although, no, this is not any reason to forego the both of those. Do be sure that you're still practicing over the summer. Once again, I have also been re-enrolled in summer school. My mother seems to believe that my being a witch is no excuse to allow my knowledge to wane in mathematics, English, or any of the other muggle subjects.
I suppose I can't entirely disagree. But I do wish she'd allow me to have at least something of a break over the summer. What's worse, is that since I'm expected to attend the summer camp in order to represent Hogwarts in the Quidditch match (at least she's understanding of how important Quidditch is to me), I'm going to have to continue with the subjects over the course of the school year since I won't be able to complete them this summer. She's planning to owl me the assignments and readings.
Anyway, I had best be off. I've some errands to attend to. Do write back, though. You can send the letter back with Janus. If you ask him to, he will remain nearby until you call for him again.
Sincerely,
Evelynn
p.s. Would you entirely object if I asked you for your mobile? Actually, do you have a mobile?
Just Marvelous
[font=Time New Roman]July 6th, 2021[/font]
More than a week. More than a week since the conclusion of academic persecution at Hogwarts, more than a week since his mother had welcomed him home with a tearful hug, and more than a week too long for him to wait for some form of word from Evelynn.
Truly, did she not understand how rife with anxiety his every passing day was? How deeply the hours void of her anticipated letter pained him? How could she be so oblivious to the storm of fervent emotion which her inquiry at the train station had stirred up within his chest?
That storm had hit him like a hurricane, blown in with the sweet tone of her voice upon his ears. Immediately abandoning the enthusiastic chatter he'd been sharing with his father, the boy had turned to face her, his joyful expression changing to one of thoughtful bliss upon hearing her request, as though caught in a particularly delightful daydream. And, in reality, the experience rang consistent with his most treasured fantasies.
Eve had asked for his home address, indicating a desire to extend contact past the halls of Hogwarts. Not because he had slipped a piece of parchment bearing the information into her hand - to the rolling of her eyes, which seemed to follow most of his actions - but because she had willingly extracted the information, without provocation.
If he were being honest, he'd previously assumed he would be reduced to groveling at her feet before learning her address. Then again, she still technically hadn't told him as much, only asked for his; perhaps she wasn't quite prepared for such a daring risk. Probably for good reason, considering he likely would have stolen his father's wallet, made off with the nearest taxi and bribed the driver to disregard any pesky traffic laws slowing them down en route to her house.
Upon receiving a hardy nudge - more of an assault, really - from his father, he'd regained his senses long enough to answer Eve's question, his voice prevailing over the various reunions taking place around them, as students regaled family members with their school adventures.
As soon as the girl passed outside of earshot, he'd received another shove, wrought by his father's enthusiasm.
"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend!" he'd exclaimed with feigned outrage, though the act was hopelessly drowned by the pride in his voice.
"She's not my girlfriend yet, Dad," Marshal replied, pulled from his reverie. "She's fighting me on that."
His father's grin remained undeterred. "I heard that 'yet' in there."
Marshal's own lips curled into a gratified smile, his tone infused with relish. "Yes, you did."
A proud hand clapped him on the back, and the two proceeded to share a celebratory ice cream cone before making the trip home.
Presently, Marshal lay in bed, pillows and blankets strewn haphazardly about the base, his body uncovered to reveal silky, dragon-emblazoned pajamas. One knee stood erect - his foot planted against the mattress - while the other leg hung limply over the bed's edge, beckoning the remainder of his person to join the blankets on the floor. A single pillow had survived the restless tornado of arms and legs which had taken place during the night, persisting to rest across his eyes. Peaking out from beneath that stubborn cushion, the boy's mouth lay agape, a single line of saliva leaking from its corner and dripping steadily onto the sheets below.
Truly a sight of Romeo in his most charming form.
A series of rhythmic tapping roused him from a rather pleasant dream - though as he sat up, flinging the pillow from his face, the contents of said dream faded into obscurity, leaving him with the customary sense of disappointment that came upon realizing the fantasies therein were not of reality, but his own imagination.
The letdown was not to last, however, as his thoughts were interrupted by another sequence of rapid tapping sounds, drawing his gaze to the bedroom window. There, he spotted an owl through the glass, resting on the windowsill and eying him with wide-eyed impatience.
In an instant, his bare feet hit the floor, propelling him across the room in three large steps. Undoing the latch that secured the window, he threw it open, causing the owl to flinch, yet it didn't fly away - thankfully.
Examining the animal more closely, he felt as though he had seen it before. Though he wasn't quite certain who it belonged to, he hoped his suspicions were correct.
One hand reached gingerly for the letter clasped in the owl's beak, trembling slightly with anticipation. As he took hold, the messenger relinquished its package willingly before ruffling its feathers with pride.
"Thank you," he told the eminent bird. "You're my hero."
Loathe to let another minute pass, he retreated back to his bed, where the envelope was swiftly torn to shreds. As he unfolded the paper within, he noted its crumpled nature.
How curious.
Allowing his hazel eyes to drift to the bottom of the page, his heart leapt into his throat, and breathing suddenly became a strenuous activity. His gaze lingered on her name for many long moments, admiring the practiced curves, the care with which it was written. He imagined the graceful path taken by a soft, agile hand as it detailed the name of its owner - and all for him.
Scanning the wall of words upon that page, he marveled at the amount of thought Evelynn had poured into them, and the time she had dedicated, solely for his viewing pleasure. It humbled him, making his heart feel light, as though supported by a sheet of heavenly clouds.
Upon reading the final line - following the 'p.s.' - his eyes flew open, as though impersonating Eve's owl, who watched him from the open window.
Leaping from his bed once more, he scrambled for the door, desperate to find a paper and pen, calling over his shoulder as he went, "Janus, please stay there! Just give me a minute!"
Following that came a disjointed series of thuds and the sound of various drawers being thrown open, accompanied by the shocked cries of his mother. But there was no time to respond. This was life or death.
. . .
[font=Times New Roman]Sent: July 6th, 2021
Addressed: E. Decipio[/font]
@Evelynn Decipio[font=Times New Roman]Dear Evelynn,
The letter did find me well! Specifically for the reason that I received the letter.
I like your owl a lot. He does seem pretty proud of himself for delivering his package, and how can I blame him? I'd be proud of myself too if I flew... however many miles he flew; I really have no idea how far away you live. I do hope there's not too much distance between us. It would be great to see each other in person over the summer, other than just summer camp. If I'm being entirely honest, I'll probably forget everything you've taught me within the next month. Come August, I'll be saying 'hocus pocus' again. Or did I ever actually stop saying that? I don't know.
I'll definitely be at camp, though, so I'm glad to hear you will as well! I'll be the one screaming loud enough that everyone in the stands just wants me to shut my pie hole when you catch the snitch to win the match. The other seeker doesn't stand a chance; they'll be blinded by the fire in your hair and the storm in your eyes, unable to look away until they crash into a goal post. At least, I know I would. Come to think of it, riding a broom is rather unsafe with you around...
Oh, that reminds me! I need to get a broom of my own! Learning on the school brooms has been fine, but I don't want smoke trailing behind me when I finally make the quidditch team... unless it's cool smoke. You know, from fire that's supposed to be there, instead of like a blown engine or something. Brooms don't have engines, though, do they? Do they smoke? Does anything I'm saying make sense? Probably not, because every time I talk at the mirror, I realize that I don't understand a word coming out of my own mouth. Crazy, right?
I forgot what I was supposed to be talking about. Let me check your letter again_____
Oh, right. Rich people, big houses, you apologizing for something you should never apologize for. Eve, you should know by now that any time you talk to me at all brightens my life, as the sun's rays would when they grace the cold face of the earth, reminding its inhabitants that there is a life to be lived, and hope to be perceived.
Oops. I'm not supposed to be writing poetry for you, am I? That's awkward. I suppose I could cross it out, but what if it makes you smile? Tell me if it made you smile when you reply.
I forgot where I was again.
Okay, I remember now. Honestly, I can't believe how big some houses are. What do these people do that allows them to live that way? I'd probably get lost in a house like that. I still turn the wrong way sometimes when I'm trying to use the bathroom down the hall from my room at night. How can I be expected to remember things like that when I'm half asleep? Let alone navigate a palace. My only hope would be if the butler put a tracking device on me or something. Which is actually not something my mum would object to doing as it is.
The closest thing I have to a fireplace in my room is my window during the summer. If I'm cold, I just lay in the sun like a cat. It's pretty great.
I don't think I've ever met this Healy person, though now I'm very curious. How tall does a half-giant grow, I wonder? I almost wish I could be one. I don't enjoy being short. I'll be taller than you someday - just you wait. Then you won't have to look down when I compare you to a summer's day.
I can't believe you have to do summer school! And you'll be doing extra homework at Hogwarts? That's terrible! I'd just die. My will to live would be shattered. Doing homework that involves magic is bad enough, but at least it's better than math or English. I'm so sorry to hear that. If you need someone to rescue you, just tell me and I can get my dad on board. I won't even have to beg. One word from you and we'll prepare the getaway car.
In case you're being watched, the code phrase is 'Romeo and Juliet.' Not for any particular reason, of course. It just seems ambiguous.
In any case, I'm so glad you decided to send a letter, and I hope we can keep communicating! I may ramble a bit, but at least you can tune me out this way. ;-)
You should help me go broom shopping sometime, because I have no idea what I'm doing.
Help.
With admiration from much too far away,
Marshal
p.s. I do have a mobile number! It's xxx-xxx-xxx. Feel free to call or text me at three in the morning! I always have a joke ready to go if you need one. It's a skill my dad taught me.
p.s.s What do you call a dead fly? A flew.[/font]
~Sometimes you have to laugh at yourself. It helps if you give yourself plenty of reasons~
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
Just Marvelous
Summer, 2021
| ────────── |
⊚ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 
Just Marvelous
Summer, 2021
| ────────── |
Last edited by Marshal Mozor on 20 Jul 2021, 10:11, edited 1 time in total.
~Sometimes you have to laugh at yourself. It helps if you give yourself plenty of reasons~
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
Just Marvelous
Summer, 2021
| ────────── |
Just Marvelous
Summer, 2021
| ────────── |
~Sometimes you have to laugh at yourself. It helps if you give yourself plenty of reasons~
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
Just Marvelous
Summer, 2021
| ────────── |
Just Marvelous
Summer, 2021
| ────────── |
~Sometimes you have to laugh at yourself. It helps if you give yourself plenty of reasons~
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
Just Marvelous
Summer, 2021
| ────────── |
Just Marvelous
Summer, 2021
| ────────── |
~Sometimes you have to laugh at yourself. It helps if you give yourself plenty of reasons~
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15
STA ✩ 10 | EVA ✩ 10 | STR ✩ 14 | WIS ✩ 7 | ARC ✩ 6 | ACC ✩ 15