Any follow-up of response came as unexpectedly as the owl's continued arrival. At first Vince didn't even realize there was a response in the creature's grasp. Having had a particularly horrid day of boredom and argument, his temper flared just enough to shove the beast rudely out of the (mistakenly) open window. It took everything in him not to shoot sparks at those dry, feathered wings, and not for the first time he wondered if he ought to just resign himself to it.
Eventually he managed to notice and retrieve the parchment. A quick scan of the contents caused anger to simmer, instead intrigue crowding forward. S.D. Who was this person that wrote so... childishly? whimsically? uninhibitedly? It must be someone with extreme empathy for even the most banal of living things. (To think, too, why they would bother to ask after his own mental state? The Slytherin huffed, unimpressed.)
Deciding however he (still) had nothing better to do these long, boring days than to indulge in a response, Vince settled himself with a quill. He cast a quick handwriting disguise spell, for good measure. (He might be half out of his mind, but even in this state Vince could still recognize it was best not to let his personal afflictions float out there in the ether with any traceability.) If his mind stuck a little bit, as if on loop, on the words "beautiful in the anxiety they create" - that was nobody's business but his own.
Eventually he managed to notice and retrieve the parchment. A quick scan of the contents caused anger to simmer, instead intrigue crowding forward. S.D. Who was this person that wrote so... childishly? whimsically? uninhibitedly? It must be someone with extreme empathy for even the most banal of living things. (To think, too, why they would bother to ask after his own mental state? The Slytherin huffed, unimpressed.)
Deciding however he (still) had nothing better to do these long, boring days than to indulge in a response, Vince settled himself with a quill. He cast a quick handwriting disguise spell, for good measure. (He might be half out of his mind, but even in this state Vince could still recognize it was best not to let his personal afflictions float out there in the ether with any traceability.) If his mind stuck a little bit, as if on loop, on the words "beautiful in the anxiety they create" - that was nobody's business but his own.
S.D.
Your creature is at once insufferable and persistent. I can only imagine this a fair representation of it's namesake, but think me not gender biased. I believe Merlin too an absolute quack.
As for my words... I'm sure they are mere reflections of the chaos that simmers at the periphery of my reality these days. Do not search for beauty in them. In the end, you will only find disappointment. Losing one's mind is nothing at all like the whimsical faerietale you imagine. It is cruel and painful, too tangible as it slowly chips away at every ounce of one's self worth. The worst part? You can't do anything about it. He takes and takes, growing stronger until you feel you can't possibly stand it anymore and then--
Your creature is at once insufferable and persistent. I can only imagine this a fair representation of it's namesake, but think me not gender biased. I believe Merlin too an absolute quack.
As for my words... I'm sure they are mere reflections of the chaos that simmers at the periphery of my reality these days. Do not search for beauty in them. In the end, you will only find disappointment. Losing one's mind is nothing at all like the whimsical faerietale you imagine. It is cruel and painful, too tangible as it slowly chips away at every ounce of one's self worth. The worst part? You can't do anything about it. He takes and takes, growing stronger until you feel you can't possibly stand it anymore and then--
You end up writing letters about it to unsuspecting, normal people.
Vince paused. His leg was bouncing up and down in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety. Was it worth pouring out his troubles in this way to someone who could neither do anything about it, nor likely cared enough to be bothered even if they could? No. Absolutely not. But was it cathartic to send a missive so laden with mental baggage that it almost felt like a disposal of his own issues onto some unwilling victim? Yes. Enough that he deigned to continue and ultimately send the final letter. (A little reinforcement of that handwritting charm helped too.)
Vince paused. His leg was bouncing up and down in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety. Was it worth pouring out his troubles in this way to someone who could neither do anything about it, nor likely cared enough to be bothered even if they could? No. Absolutely not. But was it cathartic to send a missive so laden with mental baggage that it almost felt like a disposal of his own issues onto some unwilling victim? Yes. Enough that he deigned to continue and ultimately send the final letter. (A little reinforcement of that handwritting charm helped too.)
-- and then, everything else ceases to exist.
If you are concerned about mental head-spaces, I should forewarn you to dispose of this acquaintance.
Yours most fruitfully,
V.I.
![[Image: vincesig.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/vincesig.gif)
i desire very little but the things i do consume me