Metal Birds

Chapter 3: Letters of Urgency

London, England, August 1934

Arthur woke to a pounding at the door. He groaned slightly in annoyance at having been woken, and much to his dismay he found that the radio had been switched off. He did remember, however, waking up in the wee hours to switch it off. He cracked open his emerald eyes and stared at the ceiling, hearing the knocking falter before continuing.

"Wake up already Arthur! I brought water for your basin!"

It was Marie, of course.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes with his palms as he attempted to rid himself of what little sleep still clung to him.

"One moment, please." His voice faltered a bit as he sat up, stretching up his arms. His wings jettisoned out as much as they could in the small room before he shook them, and then tucked them to slump on his back. He turned and opened the window, staring down a story or two into the street below; which was already becoming busied as the sun peeked over the rooftops in a blue and gold horizon.

He stepped back, grabbing a blanket to hold over his shoulders like a shawl before tucking the radio away and opening the door. He couldn't be indecent in front of a lady in the morning, much less a nun. And, she had told him not to listen to his radio after all.

"It took you long enough." Marie huffed a bit, shuffling past him to pour the warm water into the basin on his desk. "You'll need to hang that sign up."
"I know. I'll be down for breakfast in a moment."
"Don't spend too long at your window, now."
He chuckled as she stepped away, tossing a towel over his shoulder as she turned away. "I won't."
"We'll see about that!" She said amusedly as she disappeared around the corner.

He yawned, stretching again as he shut the door and let the blanket slip off his shoulders, turning to the basin and began to wash his face. He wouldn't need to shave. Perhaps he should later though. After dinner. He would have to preen too, he realized as he glanced up at the small mirror above the basin. As he finished, the winged man turned slightly to face the window. Grabbing the towel to dry his face and shoulders, he shifted the few steps over towards the small slit of a window and look out.

He wouldn't dwindle too long, he told himself.

But he couldn't help but let his eyes wander about. He saw the baker's young daughter setting out pastries in front of the store, and a late working chimney sweeper was just finishing his extra duties sweeping the square of dirt. A pair of automobiles rolled by between the buildings just beyond, and a merchant seemed to be setting up a small shop in the old kiosk on the corner.
That was bound to be a spectacle, later. Fridays were always energetic after all.

He turned about, glancing down at his shirt a moment, before going through the other drawer of the desk. He had another shirt or two somewhere. He grinned triumphantly as he withdrew a shirt, a slightly worn green one. He awkwardly tucked his wings close to his back, before slipping the top over his head and shoulders, working the bottom hole over the tops of his wings and finally slipping the large black and gold end feathers through.

With that, he finally opened his door.
It was bound to be a good day. Sunlight streamed through the windows on the opposite side of the hall, and the stone floors seemed to have warmed under that light. He made his way down the hall, picking up his pace slightly to get to the table on time. He even batted his wings a bit, sending him bounding about in long, easy-going strides to his destination.

He made his way down the stairs, going about the corner, and then across the larger hall and to the dining room.
"Good morning."

Arthur was met with a chorus of similar greetings, and he seated himself at the table. A pastry and eggs. He ate more quickly this time, not allowing himself to dwell on current issues. He ended up finishing around the same time everyone else did, walking to the kitchen to wash his dishes; before making his way back to retrieve Emelia's sign.