Post by aislinghallorin on Aug 25, 2007 2:29:18 GMT -5
Letters, whether being received or written, were one of the many things Aisling lived for. And though she did indeed have a wealth of things she considered worth living for, she could easily count this as one of her top ten. When she was younger, she'd had tons of pen pals, mostly old friends who had moved away, or even children from farther away, countries and continents great lengths off from her. Nowadays, though she'd since lost contact with many, Aisling still wrote often to her family and some select friends.
Sure, post by owl was a definite change from a good old mail box, but the purpose was the same. Aisling drew a letter, already rolled into a neat tube, from her pocket, at the same time flinching from an exceptionally angry looking owl. She'd become used to the birds and any eccentricities they might have, but there was no reason to be too comfortable. Her parents weren't quite so accustomed, but they'd never really told her why. She was pretty sure hygiene was a big part of it, though.
Sighing, she walked over to one of the larger owls, a big-headed tawny thing. She'd been using it for years but really knew nothing about it, though she suspected it was a male. There was nothing terribly special about him, but he was quick and dependable, so there was no reason not to like him. Not being very creative when it came to names and titles, she had called him "Art," after the musician. Aisling pat his head once, awkwardly, before securing her letter. "Well, Art! Same place as always, yeah?" she asked as she stroked what she supposed was under his chin. Always hard to tell with birds.
He always took off without any assistance, and as this day was no different, Aisling simply watched him take off, waving as he soared away.
((oh, I think I'm rambling...))
Sure, post by owl was a definite change from a good old mail box, but the purpose was the same. Aisling drew a letter, already rolled into a neat tube, from her pocket, at the same time flinching from an exceptionally angry looking owl. She'd become used to the birds and any eccentricities they might have, but there was no reason to be too comfortable. Her parents weren't quite so accustomed, but they'd never really told her why. She was pretty sure hygiene was a big part of it, though.
Sighing, she walked over to one of the larger owls, a big-headed tawny thing. She'd been using it for years but really knew nothing about it, though she suspected it was a male. There was nothing terribly special about him, but he was quick and dependable, so there was no reason not to like him. Not being very creative when it came to names and titles, she had called him "Art," after the musician. Aisling pat his head once, awkwardly, before securing her letter. "Well, Art! Same place as always, yeah?" she asked as she stroked what she supposed was under his chin. Always hard to tell with birds.
He always took off without any assistance, and as this day was no different, Aisling simply watched him take off, waving as he soared away.
((oh, I think I'm rambling...))