Repose

[Locked to 'Day']
[As Damian W]

Hello.

[Locked to Frank R]
Hello, Frank Rook.

i miss the postcards
or
i miss Fitch

[Locked to "David"]

[Not bothering to anon.] Will you respond here? I'm curious to know if the postcards were an aberration for you.

[Locked to Salt/Sugar]
[As Steve M]

I just wanted to give you my name, in case you ever need anything. Thanks for the writing.

[Locked to 'Bonnie']
[As Newt P]

Hello?

[Locked to Jack P]
Hello, Jack. How'd you fare with the postcards?

[Locked to Daniel W]
Daniel, did you participate in the postcards? It seems rather up your street.

[forgets to go anonymous]

sorry I spaced on you.

Satin

[Locked to "Beauty"]
[He doesn't bother with anon.] Still interested in that coffee?

[Locked to Newt P]
[A few days after the moon. Un-anoning.] Didn't kill me. Thank you for that.

[Aloud: Aiden B]
[In his study. No one's dying today, so he's not sure if anything will come from it. But old Mrs. Bailey, on the first floor, is failing rapidly. Might be enough. Aloud:] Need to find a less morbid way to talk to you, Aiden.

[Later:]
[Outside Vade: Atticus/Steve]
The moon had been a quiet one. Still had the same aches and pains that always came after, but at least he hadn't tried to bite his own leg off. Was left wondering what the pack did, but it was idle thought. Had never really belonged to the pack, so not spending the moon with them wasn't really distressing to Atticus. Had found an abandoned building by the docks and holed up there. Might have been a bad idea, staying in the city for the moon, but had been counting on the potion to work, and it had. Wasn't sure if he'd keep using it, but at least there was the option now. Was glad of the option. Choice, Atticus found, was heady stuff.

Now, was waiting outside Vade. Was under-dressed, and he looked worse for wear, but figured Steve would forgive him. Had only been back to Repose a few times over the past weeks, and that was to pick up books from his study. Was hard for an old man, living out of a duffel bag.

[As Ade P.]

Thanks for the welcome, man. You demolish any more Reese's?

Free Eve,

I must recommend being entranced at first opportunity. (Though, does Netflix not entrance you? I worry about this if the answer is no.)

Please know that I don't think you should feel guilty at all for unloading, as you seemed to need it.

Shall we continue?

No longer,
Adam

[locked to 'hobbes']

[He doesn't bother trying to obscure his identity.]

What's up, Hobbes.

[locked to misha b]

Hey you. Write any nice postcards?

[locked to 'anonymous' (claire j)]

[After this conversation. Still anon himself.]

I need something to call you, Anon, if you'd still like to be. Get any good mail recently?

[eta: locked to wren]

[He's not sure if he's going to get an answer, but he tries all the same.]

Hi there.

[From 'Samson.']

Oh Delilah. Is there anyone you love, Delilah?

You know. I sat with it and I think you oughta come around for that barbecue. You let me know what you think.

-Castor

Perhaps I could think of a better nickname for you if I knew your real name. Maybe I could learn to flatter, and you to be flattered. What say you?

Yours,

- Rose

[To 'Robbins', as Ronan X.]

I'm sorry to hear that you know what it's like to come out the other end of these things worse for wear. It's certainly a refreshing change to end up with a little more beauty in each sunny day. (And yes, I'll still take that polaroid.)

I think one of the hundred definitions of love might have to do with helping us forget the ways in which we're cracked and held together with tape. Your person, I hope she earns your love in that great and beautiful way. We can take that as confirmation that we're both still worth loving. And yes, my love told me I had beautiful eyes. Sometimes I wish I had more readily believed him while he was still with me.

You want to know why I'm angry, my dear Robbins? Well, that might take some time to answer while I figure it out for myself.

- Baskin

(Ps. I'll keep the dogs away, then. There's also a stray kitten I've been feeding, a tiny little scrap of a thing. Will you help me think of a name for her?)

I'm embarrassed to have missed the most obvious choice.

I taste a liquor never brewed –
From Tankards scooped in Pearl –
Not all the Frankfort Berries
Yield such an Alcohol!

Ruefully,
Tonic

My darling Rhett,

There's a bakery in the Capital a few doors down from Vade Mecum. It looks about a hundred years old.

If you can get there tomorrow, ask for a collection for Rhett. There's an extra ten dollars on the order for a drink, too. Whatever you want. Tip the rest.

Have a weekend treat on me,

Love always,

Scarlett.


[the collection will be of a box containing an assortment of pastries. Probably too many for one person to eat before they're past their prime, but enough for a wide sample.]

[Lancelot]

I'll be there

- Guinevere

[Mulder/Scully]
Mulder, it is me. A serial killer did not get me or the postcards. The post office is trying to split us apart. Another government conspiracy.

['Bread']

Hey B. I never got to hear you write how awesome you are.

[Beginning Friday morning, any postcards sent to pseudonyms are returned to sender. The post office has no recollection of who belongs to any of the pseudonyms, and inquiries indicate they never delivered any postcards to begin with. However, locks on the town journal seem to work with the pseudonyms, which is a fluke discovered by a post office worker and quickly spread around town like summer wildfires.

There is, of course, no sign of the writer who wrought any of this correspondence chaos, and everything returns to what counts as normal for Repose.]