Barnaby Pye
August 16, 2016 12:54 AM
A letter, part one by Barnaby Pye
It was only when Barnaby reached the bookshelf that led to the Aladren common room that he realised he had more than one letter to write. There were two letters he had to write, in fact, and while each one was rather pressing, only one had a time limit stamped on it. He thought he ought to feel vaguely ashamed upon entering his dorm room, but he wasn’t entirely certain why only that he had done something rather terribly to one of his roommates and that he needed to apologise to someone. For some reason though, he had a feeling it wasn’t his roommate that he needed to apologise to.Barnaby’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and he determined that there was no one in there, yet he took a quill and some parchment to his bed anyway and got ready for bed in the dark, drawing the curtains around his bed tightly and using lumos to see. His hand gripped the self-inking quill (though he preferred the ink pots, he didn’t want to make a mess of his bed) and the tip glided across the page effortlessly. It was as though he didn’t even need to think twice about the words that were coming out onto the page. In fact, he didn’t think even once about them until they were already there. And, once they were there, even though he hadn’t a clue where they had come from they just seemed to make sense.
Barnaby re-read the letter with satisfaction and folded it into an envelope, switching out his wand light and falling asleep. He’d send it in the morning.
Dear Sammy,
I’m sorry if my earlier words to you made you feel threatened in any way. It was wrong of me to coerce you into going to the ball with me in the manner that I did. If you no longer want to go, I completely understand. To show you the sincerity of my apology, I’ll even tell you what I had planned to disclose at Midsummer.
I have reason to believe that Jax Donovan is a spy for the Soviet aurors and once a month he is dragged away to fill them in on the most recent things that the school is teaching the young Americans in attendance. It’s imperative to stay on your guard, they’re everywhere and they’re watching us.
Good luck on your championship game against Aladren.
Most sincerely yours,
Barnaby Pye
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A letter, part one
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Barnaby Pye
August 16, 2016 1:07 AM
A letter, part two by Barnaby Pye
Barnaby rose early the next day and collected the now wrinkled parchment and broken quill that he had slept with and moved the lot of it to his desk. There was some ink blots on his blankets now from where the quill had broken and leaked, but he didn’t pay much mind to it. The hardest of the two letters had been written. It was now time to write the first letter, the one that Caelia’s disclosure the previous night had given him cause to write. And he needed to write it and mail it as soon as possible since he really didn’t know how much time he had before Jax Donovan realised he was communicating with the outside world and attempted to interfere with his plea for help.He had to be careful though, there were certainly others that Barnaby was unaware of. And he didn’t know which owls were in on it either, so it was imperative that he use some sort of code to alert the only person he could trust to his precarious situation.
Dear Tarquin,
I’ve been observing the clouds recently. You know some of the more fluffy ones have had a tendency to grow dark. The noise is rather disconcerting. You know how I always liked to count the clouds? They were raining this morning. It was right outside my window.
I’ll keep you updated on the cloud situation.
Most sincerely yours,
Barnaby Pye
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Barnaby Pye
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Sammy Meeks
August 22, 2016 10:00 PM
Response to part 1 by Sammy Meeks
The last few days had brought Sammy a decent bit of clarity. Pecari’s victory in the Quidditch final had let her feel powerful, like she was on top of the world. And the after party, in a brand new sort of excitement, had not necessarily taught her the following but had perhaps reiterated it in a more conscious manner: she did not need Barnaby Pye in her life for any purpose at all.She had put off answering him about the ball after the whole situation had been, well, a dumpster fire, and that was putting it lightly. The brunette still felt many things--anger, hurt, along with other, weirder, more confusing emotions--but she knew deep down that whatever game Barnaby wanted to play (and was now apparently pretending he didn’t), Sammy didn’t need. She could figure out her own games to play.
Eventually, she sent back a response in one of her best envelopes, a sophisticated off-white with gold trimmings. She sealed it with golden wax, the symbol in the middle reminiscent of a knight. When the school owl dropped it off with him, he could open it to find a firm, relatively fancy parchment folded over twice. He could unfold it to find, in a bold, blue ink she had made sure to dry completely and not smudge, not a word but in fact a sketch.
A sketch, while not altogether that good or anatomically correct, nonetheless still resembling a hand posed in a lewd gesture, with one particular finger raised and the others bent down.
Sammy felt that would tell Barnaby anything he could possibly need to know. After all, a picture was worth a thousand words.
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Sammy Meeks
Response to part 1
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