[some scruffy-lookin' guy walks right into the flower shop, does not look at any of the flowers, and heads straight for the check-out counter to slide a flyer over to the poor man working the register
if he bothers to look at the flyer at all it's just a 10% discount for The Shop.]
Hey there, neighbor! Ya need anythin' fixed up around this place? The shop is givin' discounts to local businesses this week.
[ He sends a return letter the very same day, fully knowing it may just amount to nothing if his brother has already moved on. He's written a lot of those, letters-to-no-one.
He doesn't mind, though. It still feels a bit like talking with his brother, even if there's no response. ]
When will you be home for a visit? Your section of the garden box will be blooming soon.
I'll be sure to let you know how these little ones do.
[ There's a delicately pressed flower included in the envelope, as well as a small packet of herbs -- pain relief. ]
[this one gets a response back shortly, on graph paper this time. there's a schematic doodle of some sort on the back of the sheet but it seems to have been abandoned halfway through. some kind of sprinkler system if the sprinkler was also an octopus.]
Hey thanks! I'll try to swing back soon if I can.
It's weird without you around. Really not used to it. I hope you're not keeping the house too quiet.
Any particular little guys you want me to keep an eye out for while I'm out here? Seeds are pretty easy to send at least. Tell me when I get you a new address you can reach me at.
It's more of a discount than yer givin' me on the flowers, ain't it? We gotta make rent somehow. But I'll make it 15% if it'll encourage future business.
[a week after the last letter, he gets a postcard from a smaller town along the coast. they have a cool mermaid statue, apparently; the photo in the postcard is of her in the sea spray.
it’s blank except for his address? maybe Eriks just wanted to show him the mermaid]
[a couple of days after he gets the mermaid postcard there’s a report of a businessman being stabbed to death in the TV news. the perp remains at large and unidentified]
[a couple of weeks after the news report he receives a postcard in an envelope from a different city altogether, two hundred miles from the mermaid statue town. the stamps are lurid Lisa Frank rainbow leopard heads. there’s a bunch of sparkly heart and star and butterfly stickers all over it, too. a little kid obviously decorated Eriks’ mail for him.
the postcard is from a zoo gift shop and shows a pair of leopards lounging in a particularly magnificent mopane tree.]
Hey,
Getting settled here. You’d like this place. I keep getting told I need to put more meat on my bones and offered food when I get back from work. One time I got a bowl of warm pierogis put straight in my hands at 2 AM, it was wild.
Landlady keeps ducks in the backyard & has the most crazy huge hydrangeas I’ve ever seen. Her daughter keeps making me help with her math homework??? Don’t know why she thinks I’m a math genius but she’s real cute & it’s mostly times tables and long division anyway.
No botanical garden here but there’s a bunch of fun places. You should take a vacation from the shop & check it out someday.
Miss you lots.
[there is a return address to a small registered mailbox…it sounds like he might be staying put there for a little bit?]
[scene: Port Manteau, wee hours. the vigilante’s been followed for a while now since he made his kill; always a risk when going for a crime boss. they lost his trail a couple of times but they keep cottoning onto him again, the bastards. two tails: one a hulking fellow who might give Brocade a run for his money; the other a shorter, slimmer figure.
one of them might have a tracking Blessing of some sort, or he’d definitely have given them the slip by now. fuck. the big guy has SOME kind of kinetic Blessing for sure; no one’s tried to fire a gun since he got out of the compound, but he’s been dodging pebbles and ball-bearings hurled his way with the lethal force of bullets whenever they get close.
they’re at the dockside when he finally makes a mistake and one of those projectiles lands a hit, right when he’s about to make a rooftop jump across a blind alley…]
A slip-up is inevitable after long enough -- and this pursuit has been way too fucking long. Not normal at all.
He manages to grip the rail of a fire escape on his plummet into the alley (breaking every finger in the process, no doubt), but with the momentum it does little more than slow his fall enough to be less lethal.
He lands on his feet before quickly collapsing from what he's sure is a broken ankle at minimum; grimaces at the thud of his own body, loud and vulnerable. Not trusting his legs and not wanting to get shot in the head while trying to heal them, he scoots as far up against the wall as he can, hoping to at least make himself hard to spot. ]
[he can hear the unerring approach, unfortunately. it’s not a straight beeline—even a tracker has to figure out how to get through the narrow byways at street level—but they’re definitely heading in his direction.
there’s some murmur of conversation, indistinct at first but growing clearer with the footsteps.
“—not moving. Think we finally put that bastard out of our misery.”
“Well, in that case, I suppose I ought to play my part…”]
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