air mail [OPEN]

[theguideless]

Date & Time: 4/11, sporadic times in the afternoon
Location: across the street from the apartment bldg
Characters: Martin, all of you
Summary: it's not actually air mail it's more like fail mail
Warnings: you tell me


Martin's letters were not the sort to be sent – not conventionally, not intentionally – but the wind seemed inclined to give it a try, peeling pages out of his careless fingers as he carried them up the outdoor stairs to the floor he stayed on.

"Woh– wait, no!"

Five, six pages? He nearly forgot, his hand flexing and finding nothing crinkling against it as he raced down the steps, eyes on the sky and the kidnapped pages. He nearly tripped over his own ankle, rounding the last flight and hopping off the final three steps, landing with a heavy whuff! on the ground. With no time to spare before the pages would flutter out of sight, he hurried across the street, shuffling here and there in wait for those that had hit the wall and begun a staggering descent. He hopped a few times before – "Ha–!" – catching one in a hasty, flailing grab, doubling his efforts for another.

There's two safe, but...

He looked about, ears straining for the sound of the paper. They weren't in the air, so...where?

So Martin took to looking, scouring the length of the building opposite his home, peering around the corner and grimacing at the mess of trash and...well, papers waiting for him. Oh, no... He only gave a few messy pieces a ginger pick-through before backing away, chewing on his lip.

It wasn't long before he'd taken a seat near that corner, back against the wall and knees drawn up to make a lap for him to smooth out the pages he'd managed to catch. Some of the graphite had smudged with the effort (and his sweaty palms), leaving letters smeared and strange.

He let out a sigh, feeling some of the adrenaline shake off. These aren't in order...

He'd take up the search again, then – more than once before retreating back to the wall to think about it...and zone out a bit, getting lost in thoughts that led to nowhere and other places much farther out of reach than they had been before. It was hardly a productive use of an afternoon, but Martin had very few obligations to tend to. And in any case, those pages were a kind of obligation in his mind.

Was it three missing? Or four...?

Comments

[theguideless]

Those were...all fair points, really. Yet Martin still hesitated, confused for a moment longer. With Bariyan so leery of the company of strangers, Martin couldn't help but hesitate. Yet even so...hadn't many of the people who were once strange (and stranger) become good friends? That's how it had to start, really...

"Ah, right–" It was pretty soggy out there, wasn't it? Exsilium never gave much fair warning to when it would rain next, either. That invigorated Martin more than anything, hustling to catch up with Elmer.

"I went through everything on that side already," he said, pointing toward some of the mess in the alley, "but I didn't find anything. I don't know which way some of them actually blew..."

[keep_smiling]

Elmer certainly was a strange stranger. That serene smile never seemed to leave his face. He suddenly did that thing where you lick the tip of your finger and hold it up, to test the wind. That never works. But he nodded sagely, as if it explained everything.

"Quite a heavy breeze today! Eastern winds, as well. So we know which way we need to go! Where where you when you lost a hold of them? We should start at the scene of the crime!"

[theguideless]

Well, "we" knowing was certainly just Elmer knowing, as Martin's expression plainly showed. He looked a shade impressed at how much confidence Elmer had in the situation – how much evidence he had for it. Some people were just plain incredible like that; Martin couldn't help but feel a little spark of energy because of it.

But–

Wait.

"Scene of the crime?" he echoed, lost again for only about as long as it took him to say it aloud. Oh. "Oh, you mean where I..." Ah, ahaha – he laughed a little, shaking his head at his obvious obliviousness.

He then pointed up toward the stairs he'd raced down from.

"They blew out of my hands while I was over there. I chased them across the street, but couldn't find some..."

[keep_smiling]

"I see! How long ago, then? They couldn't have gotten too f-- Aha! Is this one?" Looked like one page got slightly damp, and stuck itself to the wall of a building, caught on the brickwork. Elmer peeled it off and handed it over.

[theguideless]

"Not l--" He had begun to talk over Elmer, only to find himself shouted over. Martin flinched, then looked over at the man and what he was doing, not certain of even that much at first. But it's obvious rather quickly after that, and he hastens over to see. Could it be–?

He held out both hands to accept the page, despairing at how heavy and damp it felt upon falling, afraid to even pick it up. He did, though, by carefully pinching a corner and lifting it to reveal the blotched and blurry letters upon it.

His eyes lit up.

"It is!" he cried, voice thick with relief. And quickly concern. "Oh, it's all wet, though..."

[keep_smiling]

"Ah, is it still readable?" Elmer did his best to lean over Martin and the paper as to block it from any further precipitation... and to read it if he could, because he's a nosy bastard.

[theguideless]

Was it? Martin tilted his head as he lifted the page up a little higher. It was heavy, blotchy...but he could make out the words. Regina. Home.

He smiled weakly, faintly worried, as though expecting the wind to snatch it up again or the like.

"Mmh, yes," he confirmed. "I can just rewrite what I see here onto a better page, though. That's good..."