*The parchment is overwhelmed with ink, wide frantic scratches which overlap and fall into each other with all the textual cadence of an electrocuted squirrel. It's uppercase, as usual and augurey looks distinctly hassled and displeased, as usual. Barty has, after all, always conformed to the everything-must-secretly-be-a-puppy mode of bird care.
Still, the letter is a lucky one, a product of fortunate timing and an ominous, sudden dispersal of less than welcome guests.*
BELLA,
I'VE RUN OUT OF BISCUITS TWO DAYS AGO. EVEN THE WHOLE GRAIN SORT - AND YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT WHOLE GRAINS. ALTHOUGH MAYBE NOT. I MEAN, IF ALL A GRAIN HAS TO SAY FOR ITSELF IS THAT IT HAS ALL ITS BITS, IT'S GOT NO BUSINESS IN MY STOMACH. REGULUS IS THE STOMACH TO MY WHOLE GRAINS. HE'S LOST HIS VOICE AND POSSIBLY SOME OTHER BITS AS WELL. HE BROKE A GLASS AT ME. I WAS ONLY JOKING. THAN THERE WERE DEMENTORS AND BROTHERS AND MOSTLY A LOT OF RUMMAGING IN THE PANTRY WHILE HE SITS AND STARES AND STARES AND GETS GRAYER. HE'S GOTTEN OLD, I THINK HE'S FORGOTTEN HOW
( ... )
*On the first read it is merely annoying. On the second, it is worrying. By the third, she's already stubbing out her cigarette and Summoning her shoes. She doesn't bother replying.*
*Masks at midnight. And dress robes. And dancing. It is, in a nutshell, everything Lucius looks for in an evening out. (Except the fact that Bellatrix is not only going to be there but hosting the evening, of course, but that's what backhanded comments and the socially intricate dance of insulting one's in-laws to their faces while still being polite were invented, and Lucius is the consumate expert.)*
Cissy? I've just the thing for these summer doldrums. You'll want new robes, darling.
*As he calls over his shoulder he summons parchment and ink, and pens back a quick note. It is more civil than usual if only because the joint ideas of Narcissa done up to the nines and 'masks at midnight' have him feeling rather chipper.*
Bellatrix,
We'll both be there, of course. Looking forward to it.
*The reply is delivered on heavy parchment, by an large and ostentatious black owl. It is penned in the darkest of purple inks, with all the appropriate calligraphic flair.*
Comments 6
Still, the letter is a lucky one, a product of fortunate timing and an ominous, sudden dispersal of less than welcome guests.*
BELLA,
I'VE RUN OUT OF BISCUITS TWO DAYS AGO. EVEN THE WHOLE GRAIN SORT - AND YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT WHOLE GRAINS. ALTHOUGH MAYBE NOT. I MEAN, IF ALL A GRAIN HAS TO SAY FOR ITSELF IS THAT IT HAS ALL ITS BITS, IT'S GOT NO BUSINESS IN MY STOMACH. REGULUS IS THE STOMACH TO MY WHOLE GRAINS. HE'S LOST HIS VOICE AND POSSIBLY SOME OTHER BITS AS WELL. HE BROKE A GLASS AT ME. I WAS ONLY JOKING. THAN THERE WERE DEMENTORS AND BROTHERS AND MOSTLY A LOT OF RUMMAGING IN THE PANTRY WHILE HE SITS AND STARES AND STARES AND GETS GRAYER. HE'S GOTTEN OLD, I THINK HE'S FORGOTTEN HOW ( ... )
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Cissy? I've just the thing for these summer doldrums. You'll want new robes, darling.
*As he calls over his shoulder he summons parchment and ink, and pens back a quick note. It is more civil than usual if only because the joint ideas of Narcissa done up to the nines and 'masks at midnight' have him feeling rather chipper.*
Bellatrix,
We'll both be there, of course. Looking forward to it.
Lucius
Reply
Narcissa pokes her head in through the study door to peer at her husband.*
I do like new things... what's the occasion?
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Narcissa pokes her head in through the study door to peer at her husband.*
I do like new things... what's the occasion?
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Darling,
Wouldn't miss it for the world.
Be there with bells on,
S.
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