#BUT i learned a lot and met some relly cool scholars so it wasn't a total loss?

[historiesandmemories]

Fic - Postcards

Fic about an idea @ghostsandmirrors were talking about.

Famine walked slowly through the quaint back roads of this new town, enjoying the quiet peace of this place. She’d been in cities too long—Budapest, Vienna, Salzburg—so the lack of bustling people and squealing cars was eagerly welcomed. Here people moved slowly, tending the gardens, walking with pets and family. It was quaint. It was nice.

Hooking her thumbs into her backpack straps, Famine couldn’t help but smile. Peace was so rare, especially for her. She might have to stay here for a little while, a week, maybe a month if she was lucky. Just savor the peace and quiet.

Things got a little louder as the town center unfolded around Famine, but it was a soft kind of noise. She stopped on the street corner and looked out at an open, gravel lot that was occupied by a small amphitheater and rows of benches that flowed out into docks and then a glistening lake. Stone buildings fractured out along small, paved roads all around her and a church rose upon from crumbling graves to her right. This place just looked like peace.

A small tourist shop across the street caught her eye. Carousels of postcards occupied the sidewalk outside and Famine could see various other trinkets inside. The postcards were what really grabbed her attention, though. Famine had started sending postcards to Bringer a while ago as she marauded across the Earth. She’d started sending them on a whim, having spotted a postcard that reminded the horseman of them, thinking it would be a one-off sort of thing. But Famine had kept it up, sending a postcard every once in a while. There was never much too them, not even a message written on the back. Just a picture of wherever she happened to be passing through and a name, usually Charlie, scrawled in her awful, stick-like handwriting.

Crossing the street quickly to avoid being hit by a bumbling car, Famine stepped over to one of the carousels. She thumbed through the postcards slowly, taking in the pictures of beautiful scenery and the ridiculous doodles paired with silly phrases. Maybe she should send another postcard to Bringer.  

Sudden loneliness hit Famine as she looked through the cards. It was like a punch to the gut and she even had to quell the burn of tears at the back of her eyes. It had been about five months since she last saw anyone she knew, about seven since she’d seen Bringer; she’d been going through a small town in Russia and had passed them trying to escape a very angry person whom they’d just informed of a loved ones death. They’d ended up running all over town together, even when they were probably well out of danger. It never hurt to be overcautious.

Remembering that made the loneliness stronger. Being on her own rarely bothered her these days—she’d been on her own for so long—but it was like she’d suddenly been cast into the ocean with a stone tied to her ankles and she was sinking into the feeling quickly.

Famine wanted to be with friends, with people that knew her. She wanted to be with Bringer. She wanted to go home.

Where the hell was home these days, though?

“Guten tag, Frauline.” [Good day, ma’am] The voice shattered Famine’s melancholy thoughts and made her jump slightly. The old lady who had appeared around the postcard carousel chuckled a little, “Etschuldigung.” [Excuse me/sorry]

“Nein, nein, [No, no]” Famine stuttered, “Alles ist okay. Ich habe Sie nicht hören. Sie spazieren wei eine Katze.“ [It’s all good. I didn’t hear you. You walk like a cat.]

The old lady chuckled again and shook her head slightly. “Werden Sie eine Postkarte schiken?” [Would you like to send a postcard?]

Famine glanced at the cards again before nodding. “Ja. Ich werde eine Postkarte für mein—“ [Yes. I would like to send a postcard to--] What? How the hell to classify Bringer, especially in a language that was too gendered for its own good. Schatzi [treasure] was too mushy, Liebling [favorite] seemed inaccurate (there were plenty of times when Bringer was certainly not her favorite person), and Freund [friend] was first off too masculine and second too vague. “Mein Liebe,” [My love] she finally said. Liebe worked well enough.

“Ooh,” the old lady cooed, “Wie süss.” [How sweet] Famine couldn’t help the soft laugh that left her lips; she was rarely accused of being sweet.

“Wir haben viele Postkarten für Liebespaar hier.” [We have many postcards for couples here] The old lay stepped over to another carousel, giving it a light spin to show Famine the options. Couple laughing together under umbrellas and phrases about loving someone to the moon and back filled the racks. Famine resisted the urge to practically grimace at the overt romance of it all and instead shook her head.

“Ich will eine Postkarte mit einem Bild von einem See,“ [I want a postcard with a picture of the lake] she said, stepping back to the first carousel. She scanned her options quickly until she came upon one that looked right. Plucking it out, she held it up to show the shopkeeper. The old lady smiled and nodded before beckoning Famine over to the counter.

Having fished the appropriate amount of Euros from her wallet and letting them clatter onto the dish, Famine gathered up the card, “Danke schön.” [Thank you very much] The old lady smiled brightly, giving a small nod in response to the thanks. “Wo ist die Post?” [Where is the post office?] Couldn’t be far given how small this town was, but it never hurt to just ask.

“Ums Ecke.” [Around the corner] The shopkeeper motioned the direction and Famine glanced where she was pointing.

“Vielen Danke.” [Thank you very much]

Famine wandered out over the gravel lot with the amphitheater and down to a small path between the docks and the restaurants along the lakeside. There was more of a crowd here, occupying tables and strolling in groups. Chatter filled the air. Famine passed through it quickly as she could, emerging into a small park with a fountain and several chairs overlooking the lake.

A pair of chairs sat on a small balcony that jutted more out over the lake and Famine mae her way over to them. The horseman settled into the chair and hugged her backpack to chest as she looked out over the lake. She’d never been to the Salzkammergut before, but it was stunningly beautiful. She wasn’t sure the postcard did it justice. She pulled the small sheet out of the paper back the old lady had put it in, the horseman held it up to the scene in front of her. It wasn’t far off, but it only captured a fraction of the total view. Altogether, Famine could understand why humans thought the Almighty was so magnificent.

Turning the postcard over, Famine looked at the blank back and wondered if, for once, she would put anything more there than just a name. It never made sense to her to write anything. It wasn’t like there were stories to tell about her wanderings; they were solitary and full of lots of walking. The postcard said as much as needed to be said, told them where she was, or at least had been. There was nothing else to tell.

Famine retrieved a pen and book from her backpack, placing the card against the hard surface in order to scrawl ‘Charlie’ onto the back. She had to concentrate to make the English letters look like actual letters instead of just splatters of ink. The Calpurian alphabet was far from Latin based, looking more like chicken scratch. That had made learning to write English very difficult; she’d yet to try to learn to write any other language.

Sitting back, the card just seemed too bare. She tapped the pen gently as she thought before sitting forward to add another line, just two words. Miss you. Famine wasn’t even sure it was legible in her awful scrawl, but she hoped Bringer could make it out.

Satisfied, the horseman rooted around for the stamps she knew were in her bag and applied a couple before adding one more for good measure. Famine stood and pulled her backpack back onto her shoulders, setting off for the post office.

 Evening was setting in as Famine strolled along the lakeside once more. She’d sent the postcard on its way and wandered town for a bit, discovering a school just over the river. It was really a very pretty town and she was determined to stay for at least a bit.

The chairs she’d sat in earlier were free so, the horseman ventured over and folded herself into the chair. She set her backpack back in her lap and rested her chin on top of it, staring out at the slowly setting sun. Distantly, she could hear a polka being played and people laughing. Around her, groups of friends, families, and couples enjoyed the dying evening with ice cream and one another’s company. Famine tried not to think too much about them, but the empty chair beside her made her loneliness all too acute.

Wrapping her arms tighter around her backpack, the horseman blinked back tears for the second time that day. She wanted to go home, but where the hell even was that anymore? Even if it existed, it was a person she didn’t know how to find. So, she just sat there, staring out at a golden skyline, alone in a crowd of people, wondering what to do next.