[ The first text comes the day the cottage door locks, simple, concerned but not overly worried ]
Oswald,
The Hollow doorway appears to have stopped working for me, I will try again in the morning but if you receive this before then you can find me in the library.
Giles
[ And then the next day, the next one comes ]
Oswald,
I still cannot access the cottage, and I am concerned about what this means, please let me know when you receive this.
Giles
[ The third day there are no texts, for Giles spends the whole day as a cat. Napping in the library, curled up on the chair that Ossie used when he took up the role of Blackbird Bishop.
The fourth day the concern reaches a fever pitch, and the texts come spread mere hours apart and getting more frequent as they go on ]
Oswald,
Have you changed the knock? Is that the reason I cannot enter?
I can come up with only one other plausible explanation for my being locked out, and it does not bare thinking about.
Giles
[......]
Ossie, please, if you receive this and are able, please respond.
[.....]
My love, I need to know that you are safe.
[....]
If you need some time alone I understand, you know I understand that my love, and I would give you all the time in the world if you need it. Just please, please, tell me that you are safe and well.
[...]
Please tell me you're still here
[ The fifth day there are no texts again, for there is only so long he can spend staring at the little screen before his eyes begin to blur and his head begins to hurt.
They start alternating after that, one day of frequent short and frantic messages, one day of near silence, rinse and repeat.
Then, on the first of April, the pattern changes. Only one text, sent at around 8pm every single day without fail. Composed in the little journal he keeps in his pocket — which is starting to fill up, and will need to be replaced soon, especially if this goes on for much longer — and then painstakingly copied over into his phone ]
My beloved Oswald, [ it begins, and what follows is an account of his day. The people he saw, and if any of them asked after Ossie; the current state of the ship, such as the fact that the cracks have disappeared and speculation on what that might mean; what he has tried that day to regain access to the cottage; things that he noted throughout the day that made him think of Ossie; and, very very occasionally, a short poem he has written. Naturally all interspersed with as many ways as he can find to express his love for Ossie, and, finally, signed off ] Yours, for now and for always, E. Giles
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timeasmymeasure
[texts, starting from near the end of March when Ossie goes into hiding]
Date: 2023-04-02 11:46 pm (UTC)Oswald,
The Hollow doorway appears to have stopped working for me, I will try again in the morning but if you receive this before then you can find me in the library.
Giles
[ And then the next day, the next one comes ]
Oswald,
I still cannot access the cottage, and I am concerned about what this means, please let me know when you receive this.
Giles
[ The third day there are no texts, for Giles spends the whole day as a cat. Napping in the library, curled up on the chair that Ossie used when he took up the role of Blackbird Bishop.
The fourth day the concern reaches a fever pitch, and the texts come spread mere hours apart and getting more frequent as they go on ]
Oswald,
Have you changed the knock? Is that the reason I cannot enter?
I can come up with only one other plausible explanation for my being locked out, and it does not bare thinking about.
Giles
[......]
Ossie, please, if you receive this and are able, please respond.
[.....]
My love, I need to know that you are safe.
[....]
If you need some time alone I understand, you know I understand that my love, and I would give you all the time in the world if you need it. Just please, please, tell me that you are safe and well.
[...]
Please tell me you're still here
[ The fifth day there are no texts again, for there is only so long he can spend staring at the little screen before his eyes begin to blur and his head begins to hurt.
They start alternating after that, one day of frequent short and frantic messages, one day of near silence, rinse and repeat.
Then, on the first of April, the pattern changes. Only one text, sent at around 8pm every single day without fail. Composed in the little journal he keeps in his pocket — which is starting to fill up, and will need to be replaced soon, especially if this goes on for much longer — and then painstakingly copied over into his phone ]
My beloved Oswald, [ it begins, and what follows is an account of his day. The people he saw, and if any of them asked after Ossie; the current state of the ship, such as the fact that the cracks have disappeared and speculation on what that might mean; what he has tried that day to regain access to the cottage; things that he noted throughout the day that made him think of Ossie; and, very very occasionally, a short poem he has written.
Naturally all interspersed with as many ways as he can find to express his love for Ossie, and, finally, signed off ]
Yours, for now and for always,
E. Giles