July 15, 1892 - London, Foxwood Home
When she'd heard the news in the post this morning over breakfast, Poppy had shrieked and nearly lit the linen tablecloth on fire. She'd been attempting to re-warm a scone she was unsuccessfully nibbling on, and had asked Atticus nonchalantly about news from Irvingly. He must have forgotten her reason for such interest because with little aplomb he'd mentioned the recent discovery causing the witch's outburst. Luckily, nothing had happened to the expensive tablecloth and only Aunt Viola's nerves had been damaged. Shortly thereafter Poppy excused herself to send a note and stole Merlin from his sleepy post. Murmuring sweet nothings to the owl, she offered him a piece of her scone - with glaze - (and the letter) to which the little rotund munchkin fluttered happily and took off out the window.
My darling, dearest Ida!
I am remiss in not sending an owl when I heard Irvingly first went into lock-down to check on you and am near nausea now to think on it!
An acromantula has been spotted and killed in the locale which you reside! (As I am sure you well know by now.)
Please, darling, send me anything - return post, smoke signal, wild transfigurative code - to let me know of your well being! I am frantic for news and risk Atticus' wrath for stealing his paperweight of an owl to hear from you.
anxiously yours,
Poppy
Poppy
© Fox