Poppy stole into Atticus' bedroom before dawn with a nervous glance over her shoulder. One curl, still loose, tumbled over her collar bone as the brunette shut the door carefully behind herself. Still in her night things, she had managed to avoid most of the household staff before they really started scurrying. Atticus had spent the evening in London for some business purpose or another, but he wouldn't be away long enough to notice if Merlin was gone long. So - targeting her prey - the debutant scurried in and decent upon the poor, unsuspecting, sleeping owl.
Offering her index finger, lower lip caught between her teeth, Poppy tickled him under the beak. "Merlin," she cooed. "Darling, wake up." The owl hooted in his sleep and hunkered down, pointedly ignoring her. Poppy stifled a small laugh and gave the tiny creature a ruffle of his head feathers, gently. "Please darling, this is important." Merlin opened one tired eye, giving the epitome of a stink eye. Sheepishly, the brunette held up a letter and small package. The tension was palpable.
"I promise, if you do this for me, I will bring you a sardine every morning after breakfast for the next fortnight! Even though they make my fingers smell!"
Offering her index finger, lower lip caught between her teeth, Poppy tickled him under the beak. "Merlin," she cooed. "Darling, wake up." The owl hooted in his sleep and hunkered down, pointedly ignoring her. Poppy stifled a small laugh and gave the tiny creature a ruffle of his head feathers, gently. "Please darling, this is important." Merlin opened one tired eye, giving the epitome of a stink eye. Sheepishly, the brunette held up a letter and small package. The tension was palpable.
"I promise, if you do this for me, I will bring you a sardine every morning after breakfast for the next fortnight! Even though they make my fingers smell!"
May 4th, 1893 — from Bath
Happy Birthday, darling. Use with caution.
[Pressed into the bottom corner of the letter is an imprint of a red poppy. In the small, inconspicuous, brown-paper-bundled parcel: a puzzle box. With the right memories and concentration only Kris could open it, and inside: a tiny vial of Felix Felices, brewed by Poppy herself after much turbulence (and disaster). It's just enough to have a very lucky, very fun, single hour (and not kill him). And a box of toffees.]
Kristoffer Lestrange & muse song
Kristoffer Lestrange & muse song