Martin Darkov - 8th generation (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theguideless) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-04-11 09:38 pm
theguideless) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-04-11 09:38 pm
air mail [OPEN]
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...?
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...?
no subject
"I'm so glad," he uttered, his voice quivering in a syllable as tension began to leave him. He looked back up at Kratos, smiling gratefully as he held out a hand to take it. "Thank you so much. I was so worried..."
no subject
After a beat, he adds, "You may wish to invest in a folder to keep such valuable documents more secure in the future." This isn't said in a scolding tone, but just as more of a suggestion than anything, with perhaps some underlying teasing hidden in there. Going off the reaction, whatever these papers were, they were of great importance to him and losing them again? Would be bad.
no subject
"You're right," he admitted, ducking his head. "I wasn't thinking about that at all, and then the wind just took them..."
Ah, that's right. He looked concerned once again. "There's still a few I have to find still...I've been looking..."
no subject
Still though, that left whatever papers were scattered around on the ground. Given the dampness of the area, those papers may become ruined fairly quickly. "If you wish, I can help you search for the remainder." When someone loses something so seemingly important, helping out is only right.
no subject
"Oh, I..." What was best? Most courteous? The right answer? "I can't ask you to take time out for me if you..." He what? Had to...float out of nowhere to someplace else? Martin had no idea. He smiled, embarrassed. "I mean, I suppose it's something that's up to you. Does that sound right?"