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the proud arista l. sykes (thegoldfinch) wrote in valesco,

Letter Dated 28 October 1986
She had sat down to reply to the letter every day for the last five days, and all that had stared back at her for the last four of them was his name, neatly printed.

Artie,

Every time she entered the little owler on the estate, the owl that had delivered his letter hooted at her in an unimpressed manner, fully aware that Arista was rudely putting off its master. Normally, the idea of being rude to Artie Griffiths wouldn't have phased her in the least, but now… After that photoshoot… Well, she was reading too much into the note, she decided. Best to just scratch a brief acknowledgment of receipt off to him and be done with it.

When you do enough campaigns, it's sort of second nature.

Naturally she had approved the proofs before they had gone on to be featured in magazines and posters and things. They did… look good, Arista could not deny that, nor would she have allowed them to be published if they had not. The aesthetic went very much against her cultivated image, which she had heard from numerous people, but the funny thing was that she didn't mind, really.

It's quiet here, which is a nice change, though shockingly not much to do once one has exhausted relaxing, etc.

Perhaps a little too quiet, in all honesty. With Saoirse and Miles gone and Hudson busy, things were starting to get a little lonely without the constant hubbub of practice to occupy her. She pressed her quill to the parchment, laid it down, picked it back up, and held it aloft for a long moment before scrawling hurriedly, as if trying to squeeze the words in before she changed her mind.

How are you finding Portugal?

-A.

Knowing the journey would be a longer one, she opened the cage of one of several Withers-Sykes estate owls, and attached the rolled up letter to one with caramel coloured feathers, crooning softly at it as Artie's owl was released as well. Climbing up the few steps to the large bay window, she pushed it open.

"I suppose you know where to find him," she told his owl, which gave her a nice long scratch along the middle finger as it took off, followed shortly by her own. Without another thought, she climbed back down from the window and latched it shut once more.