Sweet Chocolate
In Austria, the Japanese practise of giving chocolates on Valentine's Day is virtually unknown – with the exception of Otaku and other fans. The same can be said for Hungary. The greater exception there being that a certain Elizabeta has recently had a long discussion with Honda Kiku in a completely un-planned meeting after another failed summit.
As such, the kitchen was stormed and all tiles and surfaces soon became shrouded by a dense smog of sugar. The flurry of utensils filled the building almost all night long – much to the annoyance of anyone in the vicinity.
Then, just before dawn, Elizabeta left to mail a very special package to a very special person.
Knock, knock
Roderich Edelstein pauses with a sigh. This is far from the first interruption today.
Knock, knock
He stands abruptly. One hand to his head in utter weariness at the disturbances, he strides through the vast halls of his opulent home. A quiet prayer slips past his lips that it will not be someone like Francis.
Knock, knock
Knock, knock
"I am coming!" he calls impatiently. "I am coming!"
The postman is even less tolerant.
Knock, knock
Knock-
Roderich yanks open the door. "May I help you?"
The postman nods. "Sign here."
He frowns, mistrusting. "What is it?"
The postman sighs. "Sign here. I can't give it to you unless you sign."
"Very well," he scrawls his name hastily. The parcel is thrown into his arms. "Ah… Wait! Who sent this?"
The postman shrugs. "A lady."
He closes the door and turns it over in his hands. It isn't heavy. The wrapping forms rather a few different layers. A white silk ribbon is wrapped around it.
He balances it on one hand, while the other pulls the ribbon free. The wrapping paper comes away easily soon after to reveal a small shimmering box. A piece of card is stuck to the box. Some smudges of brown have been caught in the sellotape.
He opens it with great caution only to find an assortment of made hand chocolates in bite sized pieces contained with a clear plastic bag. Another ribbon has been used to tie it. He raises the lid of the box again and inspects the hand writing. He has a hunch as to who the sender might be.
The writing says it all. He has only seen her writing once when she had rushed through it. Still neat and comprehendible, it has definitely come from her. He rights his glasses, loosening his frown, and sets back to his favourite room to play a long dis-used melody.
Author's Note: Ah! So late, so late am I! I would like to take this time to say that I shall continue with the other one. I have not forgotten! So, please, bear with me on that. Thank you very much for choosing to read this piece.