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As much as you had loved Itward, he could never stay in the same place for long. His sense and need for adventure was the only true rival to his affections for you- and you felt it wrong to force him to anchor his ship down in one place… and you’d join him, in fact you’d love to join him, but there was one tiny… almost comical problem…
You hated flying.
In fact you hated it as much as you loved the skeleton- the heights, the motion, the speed; even when he slowed it down enough just for you it was all too much.
…and while you both haven’t found a true middle ground yet- he would have planted himself permanently on the ground for you if you let him.
It was you who insisted he still ventured out- his “enrichment” as you had light heartedly called it when the topic was brought up. An Itward with a permanent home simply didn’t make sense to you.
And so… here you were in Ithersta waiting for him to return home from wherever he’s gone this time. He always had a habit of over explaining where he was going and why. This time however he seemed to be in more of a rush, despite himself saying “It’s still early,”
He left with a rushed kiss on the top of your head. At least the best kiss he could muster without lips; his sharp teeth lightly pressed into your skin… you were sure it left a faint imprint when he pulled away to rush off to his ship.
“I’ll be back my Dear, don’t fret!”
Life in Ithersta was peaceful, but it was slow. EVen with the giant clock in the center of the kingdom that could change the season… at least for you… or whoever used it. You never could quite wrap your head around the multi-layered time thing- maybe you’d ask Itward to dumb it down for you when he returned from wherever he’s gone.
Today you decided to live in Spring. The breeze smelled lightly of lemon blossoms and fresh grass- the smell of plants blooming during Ithersta was probably one of your favorite aspects of the reality. Even some of the plant based inhabitants grew their own flowers and fruits from their bodies, further pushing the smell of life and freshness through the town even after you had long strayed from the lemon orchards.
It wasn’t too warm or cold, and the breeze prevented the air from feeling too stagnated. Stray leaves and petals danced through the air between your legs as you walked home- it wouldn’t have been fair for you to move in with Itward and have him steal your home away for weeks on end. It was nothing special, only a small wooden hut… though you and the skeleton have added your own touches to it to make it feel more… you.
Despite his put together and neat appearance Itward had a habit of being cluttered and messy with his living habits. The letter in your hands addressed to you was another sign of that juxtaposition- it was folded neatly. Time stained the material a faint yellow, concentrated around the edges… He had used the gear stamp for the wax seal- no doubt he had chuckled the first time he got the chance to use the customized press.
The distant sound of music from the town was instantly silenced as you closed the front door behind you. This wasn’t the first time Itward had sent you a letter in his absence. Far from it… you had a collecting building up from the past few years the two of you had been seeing one another.
Actually, since you’ve known each other; he wouldn’t let you go weeks without hearing from him even back when you were both only friends.
The envelope smelled vaguely like metal and oil. Your nose slightly scrunched against the whiff- it was so different compared to the smell outside that it nearly knocked you out. A part of you wondered if you’d need to readjust to Itward’s scent when he returned- if just a faint stick of fuel made you react like this you weren’t sure how you’d be able to handle the undeniable stench that would cling onto his clothing.
…Maybe not so jokingly…
You step towards the small dining table. With the skeleton gone you were actually able to clear it up fairly well… maybe you’d have a talk with him about order and tidiness. Perhaps you could set up a shed for his return to move his tinkering… as if he didn’t have enough room for it in his ship.
It was cramped- so…
You bring yourself back to the moment and pull out a chair. Where you once tore open the letter to get to the contents as soon as possible when you were new to being left alone without Itward’s company… you slowly and carefully hooked your finger under the envelope’s flap. Tearing was an inevitability, but you wanted to take your time with this. There was no rush, and there would be more letters soon. You were sure of that. He always sent at least one letter a week. Usually more… a part of you wondered, though… How accurate were these? How long had it been since they were written-
You brushed the thought away. You knew too little about how mail delivery worked through the five realities and honestly even thinking such a thing existed as a proper system made your head hurt.
The envelope is shifted around in your fingers. The paper feels… like paper. Dry and thin, almost like a semi dried up leaf. Actually this particular envelope felt like it’d be far more crinkly if it weren’t so full.
The opened flap is pushed back with care and the contents are dumped rather half haphazardly onto the table. So much for care.
A folded up letter landed on a small pile of photos and various other goodies.
The soft scent of flowers hit your nose and it took you a few seconds to notice there were dried petals in the pile. Roses as well as some from plants you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t nearly enough to cut through the smell of fuel but it took the edge off even if for a moment.
It smelled like honey and rain.
Your hands find themselves to the photos first. You didn’t know Itward was the type to take pictures.
…judging by the quality it seemed like a new hobby. The images were slightly blurred and in a few you could see the tips of his boney fingers creeping into frame. In an instant the image of him cradling a camera far too small for his hands flashed in your mind and you had to stifle the giggle bubbling up in the back of your throat. A soft smile would suffice.
Most of them seemed to be taken in the third reality. Sidewalks where flowers grew in through the cracks with notes scribbled on about how much they reminded him of you. You recognized the petals belonging to a few of the flowers in the cracks. Not all, but it was nice to know where a few came from. Even if their names still evaded you.
Deer grazing on greenery, Pandora’s full moon- it had always intrigued you how the moon there looked the same as the one in Ithersta.
Did you and Itward look up at it at the same time and think of each other?
More notes- updates on how he’s doing and what he’s been up to. Hints of whatever he’s preparing for sprinkled in here and there- but not enough for you to fully piece together the full picture. However the mere mentions of Remor and Kamalas were enough to make a chill run up your spine.
It didn’t matter if you were safe and sound in Ithersta- and that, at least as far as you were aware, the kamalas were the only evil that could slip in… and even then they were rare. Incredibly rare. You’ve only ever heard of them through Itward and others mentioning catching one. You… didn’t know where they went after they were sighted but the Valokas always seemed to be spotted soon after.
The mention of them only told you that whatever Itward was doing was some dangerous business… and you wished you could have gotten over your fear of flight to be by his side.
There was nothing you could do about it now and if you knew the skeleton well enough he would have refused to let you come regardless of if you were scared of flying in his ship. Itward was careful and he hated taking risks on you.
The only thing you could do now was wait for his return and try not to worry about it too much. This wasn’t his first rodeo doing something intense and it probably won’t be the last.
You’d talk to him about it when he returned, you decided.
Finally your eyes brought themselves back to the letter; which was still folded neatly. The photos are lightly pushed to the side with the dried flower petals. The scent had only lasted for a few seconds… already long gone and consumed by oil and combustion.
The paper of the letter was a faint brownish yellow- almost like it had been dunked in coffee. As you unfolded it you didn’t even register the words neatly written across the front. No, it was the darker clusters of gears concentrated around the corners of the paper that caught your attention first.
It was so… like him…
At least he seemed to be having fun with filling the envelopes for you- he didn’t have to go out of his way to find themed papers and seals, or to attempt to tone down the smell that clung onto him. But he still did.
Itward’s handwriting was neat. But crammed together- small. Your eyes squint against the tightly packed words. He could have spared to write a little larger, there was still plenty of room on the paper. If the words were any closer you could have sworn the entire thing would have looked like it was just one long conjoined stream.
“My Dearest,”
You dully note the comma. He never forgot it. Even just by looking at it you could tell it was intentional. Always at the same angle, the same length, the same line weight. You could almost imagine Itward leaning over the paper to get it just right before allowing himself to continue on with whatever he wanted to tell you.
Warmth made itself home somewhere in your chest as your eyes continued to scan the paper.
“I am happy to say that I will be returning to Ithersta soon,”
Your heart nearly jumped. After a few weeks of being separated he was finally coming home. Soon. He provided no window but soon was something for you to work off of. You missed him. Of course you did, but you didn’t realize just how much you missed him until you were given an unclear window. You try to compose yourself to focus back on the words.
“I truly had no intention of dragging this out for so long, but I could only interfere so much without throwing a wrench into some gears,”
You could nearly hear him chuckle to himself over the mention of machinery. He must have felt so clever for his pun. Your thumb subconsciously swiped itself over the gear imagery on the paper.
“If everything goes as planned I will fly back home by the end of the month,”
There was your window. What was today? Two weeks to go if you were lucky. Fourteen days. You could hang on for that long.
You scan the rest of the letter.
“I do wish I could have brought you with me, the ship isn’t in the air as often as I had originally thought. You would have loved the plants growing in Pandora. I’ve tried to uproot some specimens to bring home but none have survived the process, yet… I won’t give up just yet, though, I promise you that. In the meantime, I’ve prepared some petals for you. Perhaps we can return to Pandora to pick some together,”
Some ink blots had dripped onto the paper. He had paused his writing. For someone who was more than happy to rattle on about his interests he seemed to struggle putting his thoughts into written words. Speaking was easier for him.
“I miss you dearly, I hope Ithersta is still treating you well.”
Some words were crossed out- between the added lines and his handwriting it was nearly impossible to make out what he had tried to say before giving up.
“Fran” was the only word you could make out but with zero context you were left lost.
You swear you had heard the name from him before. Extra attempts to try to decode the mess of ink was nearly impossible.
“Fran” “Remor” “The asylum” “free”
Slowly the words were strung together but what he was even talking about still escaped you.
Now more than before you wished you toughed it out and joined him on his flying machine- or at least tried to stall him for a few minutes longer to ask him what in the world was going on. Frustration pierced through the hope of seeing him soon. The teeth in the back of your jaw tightened before releasing.
He’d return soon, and you could interrogate him.
He was still clearly thinking about you, and he was still sending in letters weekly.
“Would be nice if he could summarize everything,” You muttered under your breath before gathering everything up. The rest of the letter reaffirmed that he was eager to return to you.
A vague promise of maybe even seeing him sooner- if his math of Pandora’s and Ithersta’s time differences were accurate. That was… another thing that hurt your head. If you were here without him for weeks, how long was he without you? Pandora’s time seemed to pass by slower.
The idea left you with a bittered feeling. You were hopeful to see him, but you felt almost selfish for the brief pang of anger aimed at him.
How long had it been for him in Pandora?
The slight curl of your mouth deepened downwards. There was nothing you could do for him right now.
In the meantime… perhaps you could see if there was space in your growing garden to accommodate the future additions of Pandora’s flowers.