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The calendar hung against the wall, an ever-pressing reminder of the date to come.
The date was circled with red ink, a note under it with what seems to be the postman’s handwriting. February 14, Valentine's Day!
Florian had to take two steps back when he noticed it, eyes widening with slight interest. He paused there for a moment. He was never one to celebrate the holiday, not once ever. Most of the gifts he received during his time of work usually just left sitting on his office desk while chocolates and various other sweets found themselves shared among children or crew members.
This time, however, was very different.
With everything in his life being significantly slower, no longer stuck in the need for miraculous, heroic acts that once bound him, he finally had time to enjoy the holiday for himself.
The fire investigator tilts his head to the side, as if the thought itself weighted on him physically.
Scattered plans wrung itself around his mind, ideas unruly in their spontaneity.
Flowers, the usual of course, but would he appreciate them? Chocolates are nice too, but Matthias was never much of a sweet tooth. Something more personal, perhaps, books or a letter. Something leaning towards Matthias’ personal interests…
Wood carvings?
It was simple, not at all grand in its silence, yet still heavy in its care and thought.
A smile imprints on his lips. It's decided then. He walks off to nowhere in particular, deciding that being stuck standing like a cold stone statue against the floor isn't a very good look for the collected, ever-moving fire investigator.
Every step blooms about a new question: how would he get the materials? How would he know what to do? What would he make?
Every drag of his feet against the worn wood leaves a creaking, lingering answer:
There was a workshop inside the manor, he could inquire the artists of their procurement of supplies, find someone familiar with woodworking, with the wide variety of people among it, it would be practically impossible to find at least one who understood even the most basics.
As for that last question…
He traced the string of thought, it's once chaos now more akin to that of a pin board, linking ideas together in a trail of coherence that's presence could not stand without it.
Something practical. Florian wanted him to be able to actually put the item to use, but also for it to hold a meaning, a significance and message to tell through silent means of gift giving.
Faint words echo in his mind. Little wooden birds, made to fit the size of a palm, often to soothe through tactile reassurance… comfort birds, that's what they were, no?
He recalls one of his previous rescues, clinging to the little wooden dove as all other traces of the establishment, which shared the very same material as the only thing anchoring the poor boy, lit up in entrancing flames. He remembers that conversation as clear as day, spoken with soothing tones and reassuring steadiness, met with fragile words and collapsing despair.
Even in the face of what was a great tragedy, what kept him tethered was an artificial avian.
Perhaps it was well wishing, but Florian found it would honestly be fitting. While Matthias wasn't the most physically affectionate, he was still clearly very tactile. Fiddling with the edges of a fabric, dragging fingers along surfaces, Florian had noticed one too many cases.
He turned a corner, meaningless steps now purposeful in their wake of finding the one person he could inquire for help.
Miss Lester, the toy merchant. She's made various woodworks in her time here. She'll also probably be kind enough to help, after all, her and Florian were pleasant acquaintances more or less.
He glanced out the window, the midday sun still among the sea of clouds. Usually, the toy merchant would be working at a time like this. With a goal set, he takes to his destination, a workshop to the far south of the manor.
***
The fire investigator stood at the doorframe, bandaged hands lifting to the dark wood and knocking.
The room inside was quiet for the following moments, almost enough for him to turn away and find the blonde at another place. Soon enough though, the door clicked with the turn of a knob, the old frame creaking with age, bright blonde hair peaking from behind it.
“Good day to you, Mr Brand! What brings you here?” Anne spoke with the same gentleness she carried herself with on the daily, a slight smile resting on her lips.
He returned the polite smile, speaking just as humbly, “Good day to you too,” he noted the messy room behind her. Seems he wasn't the only one who's busy for the upcoming day. “I see you're also busy for next week! Would you mind me taking up a bit of your time? I'm unfortunately a little out of my element.”
A surprised expression framed her face, a pleasant kind, bordering on amusement. “No, no of course not. Please, come in. I'd be more than happy to help, after all you've done much for me as well,” Anne stepped away from the doorway, heading off to her the wooden tables that housed her tools.
Florian entered the room in suit of her, immediate observation jotted down mentally. The messy yet organized orientation of the tools and unfinished works, the subtle flakes of wood in the air, it was clear the room was often occupied.
“Valentine's day is in a few days,” he began simply, a truth many of them shared.
“I was hoping to make gifts, of course. Unfortunately, I'm not very familiar with woodwork. I thought I'd seek you out, you never disappoint with yours,” a bright smile decorated his face as he spoke, it held shame in its cadence, just subtle enough to pull the face of a man far from a task he knows how to do.
There was a hint of pride that brightened the toy merchant's expression with that last statement. “Oh my, thank you. These toys are a joy to make for everyone,” her humility shined much like her golden hair.
“It would be a pleasure to help you.”
Almost imperceptible, his smile went placid, everything was going as it should.
“I heard of a thing people make when carving wood! Small birds, almost only the size of a hand. If I recall, they're called comfort birds?”
Anne nodded, she was quite familiar with those and were equally fond of making them. “Yes, yes, I can teach you how to make one. I don't doubt that you'll do well at it.”
***
The sun was setting to its slumber now, a warm orange overtaking every surface it drapes.
“Thank you for all the help, Miss Lester,” Florian gave a polite nod, holding the carving in the palm of his hands.
It was a little worn, far from the perfection a craft like this demands, but somehow the imperfections made it stand out from the countless other ones.
Its tail stunted shorter, form a subtly hunched. Miles from noticeable nor did the imperfections strip the meaning nor purpose any less, but Florian couldn't help but mutter a quiet apology at the mistakes.
Just earlier, a chip in the carving was disguised as an inscription of words. “vše bude v pořádku,” Anne suggested. A reassuring sentence. Everything will be alright.
“It's no problem,” she smiled once more. “I hope all goes well for you, Mr Brand. See you!” The toy merchant stood at the door, waving just as he was. He departed no later than a few moments, and soon the door to that same workshop was closed once more.
He stared at the gift, much like a fledgling in his grasp. In a way, it reminded him of its soon owner. Quiet and imperfect, yet no less beautiful and purposeful, and maybe one day, just as free.
***
The days finally ticked down, the day of hearts dawning upon the manor. It was busy of course, the baron insisted on having events to celebrate the holiday as per usual, but it wasn't very difficult to find the time for a few personal rendezvous.
The fire investigator stood in front of Matthias' door, waiting for a response to his knock moments prior, holding a neat yellow present.
Inside the box laid a wish, a gift, and a gesture of devotion. One he would only want the puppeteer to have.
The door opened seconds after, the dim room contrasting the bright hallway where Florian stood, some of its light spilling inside the room inconspicuously, revealing its messy interior for better or for worse.
Matthias looked down at the blond, the man's enthusiastic smile never once fleeing his lips.
“Happy Valentine's day to you, Matthias,” he extended the box to the puppeteer, the bright yellow out of tune with his monochromatic greyish tones.
He took it in his hands. He hadn't remembered that day was today…
“Thank you, Florian…” he spoke with the same whispers as before, now carrying a shameful weight.
“I hadn't remembered it, I don't have anything to gift you, my apologies,” Matthias bowed his head lower, the admissions coming out heavy.
He'd expect disappointment, a chiding word or two if it was anyone else. But Florian?
Florian smiled just as brightly, unwavering despite the confession handed to him. “That's alright, it's not an exchange, I just wanted to get something for you,” he replied.
“You're very dear to me, Matthias. What better day to show it?”
The puppeteer's face shifted while hearing it, overcome with many emotions. The guilt from earlier, a striking shock despite him having expected a response along those lines, and something else he wouldn't like to read.
He paused for a few minutes before speaking up once more, “thank you, again… you really did not have to.”
“But I wanted to,” Florian replied, no evidence of hesitance in his tone.
Matthias, admittedly, didn't know how to respond. Moments like these occurred often between them, he was not used to such acts of kindness, of humanity.
“Anyway, I'd better get going then. Another time then,” Florian added to ease the growing chasm.
The puppeteer’s expression softened from its previous conflicted form. “Right, of course…” he nodded, shutting the door to his room and hearing the footsteps fade.
Matthias sat at the edge of his bed. Messy sheets and strewn blankets atop shifting alongside the mattress. The box rested in his lap, admired with a keen eye.
His hands, mechanical as ever, removed the lid with care, the hushed sound of it accompanying the act.
He stared at the cushioned gift for a few moments. Its surface was smooth, reflecting the soft light gracefully. He was almost afraid to hold it in his hands despite it being the purpose.
Nevertheless, he soon took it from its nested case. A small smile found itself quietly against his face.
Florian always found ways to speak to him even without words. It was an impressive feat, moving in its miniscule yet impactful ways.
He traced the engraved words, a familiar reminder he'd always heard from Florian during his many times of vulnerability.
As he held the bird in his hand, running through its form with care, he vowed that the next chance he'd get, he would return that fire investigator’s own display of affection.