⫯ post office

@－ ❛ s ❜：yvaine dorian。⁰⁴ “You’d have a point there.” It felt depressing to think of the possibilities of having the outcome as said from the slytherin house member. She had a point which he never thought of and would forever live in his line of thoughts. A more pleasant manner of talking back in fluent English from the feathered animal crossed his mind instead. It was imaginary but worth the sight, if only it was probable enough. “They could also misunderstand our messages and tell the person whom we wanted to talk to the wrong idea. I’d best avoid that as much as necessary. It was worth a shot to think about though!” A smile crossed his features, thinking about the positive side of things.

Jacob nodded in understanding of what the female told her and decided not to dwell any further with her parents. He didn’t want to cross any boundaries with someone he occasionally sees in the institute they attend. “Your grandparents write to you? That’s nice to hear. I’ve never experienced receiving any written letters from my side.” The identity of his grandparents is kept as a mystery towards him. Jacob only has his parents and has never met their side of the family, not even once. His eyes grew wide in surprise at the female’s observation, making him smile. It was fake, but far from being bitter. “I really hope they are doing well... Honestly, I have heard nothing from them.”

@－ ❛ ʜ ❜：jacob caxton。⁰³ "I like to think they'd prefer not to." Yvaine stated, gliding her fingers through her bleached tresses. "I imagine they'd grow tired of our conversations and tell us to simply to start writing again. Don't you think?" She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, pale lips pursed in deep thought. "The training is entirely possible, but the results would be short lived." She tried to resist the thought of an owl screeching at her in broken english in a sorry attempt at mimicking her grandmother's irritated tone. It was both amusing and terrifying to think about, but it only made the letter in her pocket feel heavier.

The boy's inquiry caused her amused expression to fall, however, the image of her father's corpse intermixed with her last memory of her mother flashing in her head. "No. My grandparents write to me every week so I come here to retrieve their letters. I have no need for writing letters myself when the staff at our fine school do a good enough job of tattling on me." She pointed out with a blank expression. "Furthermore, I no longer have parents to write to anymore anyway." Her hand lowered to slide into the pocket of her coat. "I imagine based on how excited you seemed earlier, you must be writing to your parents? I do hope they send letters back to you with just as much enthusiasm."

@－ ❛ s ❜：yvaine dorian。⁰⁴ His eyes widened at the person who responded back towards his small mumble. The hufflepuff gave the letter for one of the owls to deliver for him towards his parents. Again, he placed a small smile before turning his attention back to the person who wanted to start a conversation with him. "Well, who know's maybe they do or maybe they don't. There could be a chance to train them in such a way to do so. Just imagine the possibilities of it?" He asked in one random thought which crossed his head now that he thought about it. But he bet it won't sound as good as parrots talking to other people like them. It was still worth a try if someone made the effort for an owl to speak like a parrot. Jacob would never have the time to do so but would likely try for himself.

"Did you write something to your parents too I believe?" Jacob wondered out loud. He wasn't too keen on his surroundings. The male was completely unaware of the female visiting the post office or any other student in particular whom he doesn't acknowledge their presence. It almost seemed like his mind was always too entrapped with whatever comes from his mind. Jacob always thought of his parents every time he visited the post office. The message of what he'll tell them and what other latest events he wanted to discuss with them sealed in one letter. He never realized they never even respond back to him, not even once they wrote back to their own son.

@－ ❛ ʜ ❜：jacob caxton。⁰³ Dread felt like a weight on Yvaine's petite form when she entered the post office. There was no doubt that there would be a letter from her family waiting for her. An ebony envelope with the blood red wax seal depicting the family crest pressed against its backside. She'd be thankful if it were ebony and not ruby. It wasn't long ago that she'd received a Howler in place of a regular letter. The damned thing had almost permanently burned her hand. The nasty things were notorious for rising in temperature if not read immediately. Though if one were to ask, she'd claim it be worth it instead of facing the humiliation her classmates would force her under. Her fingertips brush over where the marks used to be, the sinking feeling in her stomach furthering its descent.

She took a few steps forward in the direction of her own box when her eyes caught on a boy. It always seemed that when she was here, he was too. How odd. She leaned in his direction for a moment, managing to catch the last part of his sentence. Stubborn as ever? Whatever could he mean by that? "Are you talking to yourself over there? I'm sure the owls aren't quite advanced enough as to be able to mimic your speech for your letter recipient." She tried to sound teasing, hoping to break the silence as she turned her gaze back to her delivery owl's space. And right in the owl's grasp was a single letter, just as she thought. With a sigh, the girl took it and slid it into a spare pocket within her uniform skirt. It would have to wait.

@－ ❛ s ❜：yvaine dorian。⁰⁴ Exchange of words would be what one could expect between two people writing through a series of letters strewn with messages that contain words filled with love, distress, or yearn. Looking into Jacob’s situation, he seemed more of the giver than the receiver from the end of the line. It didn’t matter to him if his parents sent him a reply as long as he had his parents informed of his daily activities involving himself in the institution he attended to. Until this day, where he now stood as a Hufflepuff student in his 3rd year of Hogwarts, he always hoped his parents were safe and sound.

Jacob walked into the post office making a new delivery towards one owl to send his parents a new letter regarding the latest news of his life. He told them about the friends he made along the way and the events that happened during his game in quidditch. The smile he had painted on his face was merely a canvas created poorly by no one other than himself. He wore it for so long, never knowing when to give up repainting the same wicked grin he need to maintain during his day outside the comforts of his room. Jacob knew how to smile. But failed in making it real. “I know it looks like I’m disobeying the rules, but I can’t help it. No matter what you tell me to do, I’ll still be as stubborn as ever.”