Letters in Bold

Monty Pendleton

💡 Inventor | Guardian 💡
 
Messages
10,413
OOC First Name
Claire
Blood Status
Muggleborn
Relationship Status
Single
Sexual Orientation
Asexual
Wand
Straight 9 1/2 Inch Rigid Walnut Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
Age
1/1999 (61)
Letter said:
2nd September 2045​
Dear Ava,

Where on earth do I begin? First of all, I apologise for the delay in my correspondence. I told you that I would write, and I intended to do so, but the note upon which we left things made it difficult to know what to say. I made of myself quite an imbecile, declaring my feelings for you the way I did. What must you have thought? Do you feel as if I have betrayed you? I do. Thought it was never my intention, I feel as if I have somehow deceived you - as if I selfishly hid my affections in order to spend more time in your company. Truly, I did not mean that. You have always been a wonderful friend to me, Ava, and I value our friendship beyond measurable degree. My feelings will pass. In the meantime, perhaps writing is a safer means of communicating.

With that out of the way, how have you been? How are the children? I've had quite the year: first I discovered that Margo Ellis is my niece, and then that Saveli is expecting a baby. She is due in just a week or two. I have never felt so terrified in my life. We've prepared the nursery, and a ten-point survival plan, but I don't think I'll ever be prepared to be a grandparent. The youngest children I've taught were four or five years old; I've no experience whatsoever with babies! Still, Saveli will be a fantastic mother. We'll muddle along somehow, as we must. If you have any last-minute tips, I'd be grateful to receive them.

Vex welcomed me back to the castle yesterday by tipping a kettle of slime on my head. He misses you; Professor Alicastell doesn't quite seem to understand him the way you did. Which reminds me - upon my last visit, I meant to ask whether you might consider writing to him, but I must have panicked and forgotten. I know it's quite the undertaking, but I'm sure it wouldn't go unappreciated (if not by Vex, than by me; somebody needs to get him back under control!). I think he might be rebelling. At least he didn't spread my ingredients around the castle, as he did the year before last. Cyndi kindly helped me round them up, but that is not an experience I wish to repeat!

Also, whilst shopping in the village last week, I stumbled across a bar of your favourite chocolate. I've attached it with this letter. It is a pity chilli is such an elusive flavour; you must crave it so. Anyway, I couldn't pass it by without thinking of you.

Once again, I am incredibly sorry it took me so long to get in touch. I have a terrible habit of procrastinating when something potentially difficult needs to be done. I hope you will not think less of me - for this or for the scene I made at your house. Whatever might happen, I only hope we will always remain friends.

Hope you are keeping well, and look forward to hearing from you,
Monty

P.S. Sorry the letter's so formal. Force of habit.
 
Saveli is due in a week?! Now is when you decide to tell me?!

Ava realized as soon as she sent the previous letter that it was not at all appropriate to send to Monty. She quickly sat down and wrote another letter; a proper one this time.
Monts,

Sorry about the previous little note, I got a shock and that's all that I focused on of course. Sorry again!
It's so lovely to hear from you. You are not an imbecile Monty, don't call yourself that! I appreciate your honesty, and I do not feel betrayed. I am glad you have been able to write to me; I have missed you.
I'm sure Saveli will be wonderful, and if you do ever need me, let me know. Tell her to sleep when baby sleeps, it might be the only chance she gets. She must do what feels right by her, not by anyone else. She's the mother, she knows what baby needs. Does she know what she's having? What's the name? You must tell me everything!

Poor Vex, I do miss that crazy being. Vex does require a certain -something- to understand and be fond of. I will endeavor to write to him, maybe - if it's okay with you and Alicastell - I will visit him and see how he's doing. Unless that would confuse him. I'm not entirely sure how these beings think. I did laugh when I read that he welcomed you with a kettle of slime. He definitely likes you.

I've also already eaten the chocolate - funnily enough it tastes just as disgusting as I remember it, but luckily I was able to keep it down this time. (You are so mean! Hahaha!)

I am doing well! Just trundling along, nothing that exciting is happening. I'm just living each day as it comes. I do miss the children, but I think I have made the right choice. As all retired and old people do, I have made myself a little garden outside which I actually really enjoy doing. When did I get this old?!!!

Can't wait to hear from you again
Ava x

Ava finished her proper letter, and then sat, waiting for her owl to come back, and hoping it would be fast enough for her to send the next one before Monty replied.
 
Fortunately for Ava, Monty had been fairly busy that week, what with Saveli's delivery and helping her through the first few days of motherhood, and he didn't have time to reply until some time after the second letter arrived. He chuckled as he read over it again, and then sat down to compose his reply.
Letter said:
Dear Ava,

I quite accept your apology! Truth be told, it slipped my mind that I had yet to tell you about the pregnancy. It's difficult to believe it has been so long since we last spoke; somehow I assumed you must already have known.

Saveli and I thank you for the excellent advice; she has certainly put it to practice this week. (Why on earth don't parenting books offer such practical wisdom?) She gave birth on September 4th to a healthy baby girl, whom she has named Ainmere Prudence. She is really quite extraordinary. I have never known anything quite like it, nor been so proud of Saveli. The father, Reuben Lagowski, will meet her for the first time this Christmas; he is undoubtedly enduring a very long school term!

I'm sure Vex would be delighted to see you - as would the rest of us! I truly do miss you. Ah - it would appear that I have been misinterpreting the poltergeist's affections; if you suppose he must like me, I had better make a greater effort myself to appease him. He did seem grateful when I assisted him in the preparations of his birthday party. Alicastell, not so much.

The last time I checked, gardening was a perfectly acceptable hobby for women and men of all ages, including those young as yourself. You will have to show me this garden the next time you permit me within fifty feet of your house. Speaking of which, I wonder if you might like to visit one day over the Christmas holidays? I believe I owe you dinner - and, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, it would be lovely to see you. I promise a categorical lack of chilli chocolate foods on the menu, if this might help persuade you to accept (though I cannot guarantee my cooking will be any more palatable as a result).

All my best,
Monty
 
[adminapproval=30535149]Monty had slept so much over the last few days that he felt sure he never wanted to close his eyes again. His time in the hospital wing was doing wonders for his health, both mental and physical, but he hated to lie still for so long, staring at the same curtains. He missed the children, and teaching, and his quiet morning walks around the school grounds. Would it ever be the same again? In a short fraction of a second, so much seemed to have changed. If he managed to keep his job, he knew it wouldn't be as simple as returning to his old routines; for one thing, it was those very routines that had got him into this mess in the first place. Monty sighed, opening his journal to compose a letter to somebody he had been thinking of a lot lately.
Letter said:
26th March 2046.​
Dear Ava,

I'm sure I begin every letter to you with an apology, but by the time you've read this through, I think you'll understand why I feel compelled to say sorry.
Sighing, Monty tore the page from his diary, screwed it up, and started again.
Letter said:
26th March 2046.​
Dear Ava,

I don't know.
The words, which had taken nearly twenty minutes to write, began to blur and swim through a film of tears. Monty ripped that page from his journal, too, before beginning his third and final draft.
Letter said:
26th March 2046.​
Dear Ava,

If it isn't inconvenient, do you think we might be able to meet next weekend? Something has happened, but I'm not sure I can find the words to say it in a letter. I am all right - just tired. Actually, I'm not remotely right; but please don't worry for me. I am being looked after in the hospital wing, and suspect to be on my feet again in a few days. As not to worry you, I will say that I fainted - there is a little more to it than that, but it is emotional, not physical, and difficult to explain. I hope you'll forgive me for being so vague; if I knew how to tell you, I assure you I would.

If you cannot make next weekend, please let me know what day would suit you best. I hope you and the children are well. Sorry I cannot think of much else to say at the moment.

Best wishes,
Monty
It still felt inadequate, but it was the best he could do. Sealing the letter, he asked the nurse whether he might take it to the owlery and send it for him. Then he lay back down and closed his eyes, all of a sudden so tired that he fell asleep before the nurse returned.
 

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