Climbing trees with Mr. Fletcher

[CHARLEMAGNE FLETCHER]

Ahhh, the end of class; the marvelous, wonderful, blissfully responsibility-free part of the day in which Charlemagne could truly be himself. Not that he did much to hide himself to begin with - from his odd sitting position at his desk to his purple suit to his occasional taking of notes with an honest-to-goodness quill pen, it was no secret that Charlemagne Fletcher was one of the oddest kids on the university campus, and he seemed very, very proud of it.

Grinning eerily and adjusting his tie (today it was an obnoxious turquoise with a swirly pattern), Charlemagne's bright blue eyes scanned eagerly back and forth across the grounds, his nostrils flaring slightly as he took in the fresh air. "Mmm...I was suffocating," he mused aloud to himself, as if he were just realizing this now, and steered in the direction of a rather large tree. He was very pleased that there were trees about, for climbing them was one of his very favorite pasttimes - his favorite being shouting riddles and cryptic advice down at passersby from said trees he was climbing.

He did rather like reading, as well, which was why he had chosen the library for the headquarters of his information agency - but today was his day off. It was time to do something fun, and trees always had something new in store for him.

Unless, of course, it was the same tree, in which case he would have to look a little harder.

The slender young man stood patiently beneath the tree for a few moments, examining it, observing the texture of the bark and how low the branches were. They weren't terribly low, in comparison to other trees he'd climbed, but no matter. Cracking his neck, he bent his knees and sprang up like a cat, catching onto a thick branch above his head and pulling himself up until he could get his foot in a knothole and scramble onto the branch. From there, he climbed higher, pausing for a moment to straighten the black glasses perched on his nose before creeping out onto a thick limb some fifteen feet off the ground and lying down on it. He was a thin creature, and the branch only protested slightly to his weight as he watched the ground below, peeking around a tuft of leaves obscuring his view.

It wasn't long before his first victim classmate passed through his line of sight, crossing under the shadow of the tree.

He did not speak; this wasn't necessarily unusual behavior on his part, as sometimes he liked to wait for someone to see him. The first one didn't, but the second one did.

"Hey!" It was a young woman; she was in his class, he recalled, but he'd never cared to remember her name. She was standing in the shadow of the trees, looking up at him with an arched eyebrow. He grinned down at her.

"Greetings, salutations, hola, bonjour, guten tag, privet, ni hao, konnichiwa." His wide blue eyes blinked once, watching her intently with his chin resting on his hands.

"Excuse me?"

"Greetings, salutations, hello, good morning - in seven different languages, might I add. I don't speak all of those languages, you know, but I like knowing how to greet foreign people, just in case. It would be quite awkward if I couldn't greet a Russian diplomat correctly, don't you think?" His smile became somewhat sly.

"Er..." She gawked at him, baffled.

"What's once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?" he asked her cheerfully.

"What?" she responded, looking confused.

"It's a riddle, of course." That creepy grin returned.

"Oh, I'm no good at riddles."

"How is a raven like a writing desk? Do you have any answers for me? I do like answers, you know - marvelous things, answers. They stop that nagging need for them that questions so often bring. And I have so many questions. Don't you?" His expression was one of feigned innocence.

"I'm outta here," the girl grumbled, turning and walking away across the grass.

"Travel safely," he called after her; he found he quickly became bored without company, so he daydreamed, watching the wind toss the leaves and thinking about a poem he'd read the other day.

[sablesepulchre2]

Mitch's headphones pounded away as he crossed the campus. His last class of the day had just ended, and now it was time to head to the Make A Wish Foundation to file some paperwork. The sound of his music could probably be heard by all who were in Mitch's vicinity, but it was the only thing keeping him going. He'd had another sleepless night, kept up by who knows what, and now the only thing that was keeping him from simply passing out was the blaring noise in his ears.

How long had it been since Mitch had actually slept? Mitch seemed to remember dozing off a few days ago during class, but he couldn't remember the last time his bed had been used for anything other than a storage space. And his dreams, god. His dreams were only a distant memory of a crazed mind, and Mitch wasn't entirely sure that his tired mind had not invented the memories of dreams just to satisfy itself.

And anyways, when had Mitch ever had his own dream fulfilled? The idea of it was crazy - his job was to grant wishes, not to be selfish and satisfy himself. It was the sad truth, but a nagging in the back of his mind push for otherwise. Mitch dismissed the feeling as he turned up the music louder, trying to snap his attention back to the real world.

As he trudged past the library's stone steps, Mitch was startled by a hand on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise, but it was only a friend. Mitch removed the headphones quickly, speaking to the friend. "Sorry, I was distracted..."

The friend stared at him for a moment, before replying carefully. "I've been following you and calling your name for the past ten minutes. What the hell were you thinking about for that long?"

Mitch stared at him blankly. "Nothing. Sorry for ignoring you." He glanced around, noticing another group of his friends heading his way. Mitch was in a terrible mood, and he could barely hold up his normal happy-go-lucky facade. He made quick escape, apologizing and claiming work then leaving with a wave to his friends.

Around the corner and out of sight, Mitch made his way to a tall oak tree that loomed nearby. The roots of the tree made a perfect nook for a person to rest in, or in Mitch's case, to gather his wits in. He collapsed with a sigh at the base. Was today ever going to end?

[CHARLEMAGNE FLETCHER]

Charlemagne supposed it was either the distant sound of pounding music or the slight ruckus of a friend apologizing to another that attracted his attention, but either way, regardless of what it was, his eyes were fully focused on the unknown student by the time he collapsed into the roots of his tree. (And he did consider it HIS tree, as he was the most sentient being occupying it...besides a few ants and a bird or two.)

He watched the other for a moment longer. The young man seemed quite weary and not in the best of spirits, but that had never thwarted Charlemagne's harassment before, and he didn't suppose it would today. Those bright blue eyes watched the one below for a moment more before he slid down to a slightly lower branch.

"Good evening," he called cheerfully, despite it being the middle of the day. "Might I ask you what's once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?" He smiled one of those eerie smiles of his. "I would say it's somewhat impolite to ask the answer of a riddle to a perfect stranger, but it does happen to be my tree you're sitting under, and my last victi--guest didn't give me the answer." He was still some six feet or so above the other young man, so he wasn't sure if he could be heard or not...but if he wasn't, there was always something else to do.