The day was rough. Tatiana had yet survived a brutal school day. She glanced at the calendar above her bed before she went to the library that day, it was November 10th, there was a little more than a month left before Holiday Break. She didn't know what possessed her to say yes, but nonetheless, it was an action that cannot be remade.
The message she sent merely contained one word: “sure.” Tatiana doubted that her mámere would immediately get it, but she had such a complex mind, who knows what she might've percepted with such little words that Tatiana had written. Which is what brought her to the library with a roll of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle. She was planning to further elaborate what she meant, but as the owl had long since departed, she had no choice but to write herself a new letter and send off another owl.
Tatiana rolled out her parchment cleanly, her quill straight and proper, dipping it into her ink bottle. Her words were clean, the message was short, but the words bottled up in her head were way too messy and long. How she wished that she could spill it all out, but to whom? Her godparents were way too busy, she had no friends yet, and she was way too intimidated by the headmaster to approach him.
The ink was runny. She ought to buy a new one once she left Hogwarts, perhaps her mother would permit her going out for a while, she was nice, as mámere had said. But perhaps she would ask her to bring her half-sister with her too, Tatiana was never quite good with children, even if she was surrounded with them, she couldn't care less of what would happen to them. Maybe she could bring her little sister, keep her on a leash or just have her follow her older sister around as she completed her errands.
With a short stroke, her elbow accidentally clashed with the ink bottle, making it spill all over the table. Fortunately, she was quick enough to dive in and retrieve the letter before the ink came in contact with the parchment, or else she would've had to rewrite the whole letter again. The letter might've been saved, yes, but the table she was now writing on was shining with ink, and the librarian surely wasn't going to be happy with that.
