Festival of Hearts

*It's once again that time of year. I can feel it pulling at my heart, tugging my mind… I've been alone for much… much too long.*

Oleander's journalling is interrupted by a knock at the door. He sighs and gets up. "Yes hello?" He asks before opening, his hand on the knob but praying he can tell them to come back later or tomorrow… or ask someone else. 

When no answer came he says again "hello? Who's there?" Only for continued silence. He groans internally and opens the door only to be greeted by... nothing.

He looks down the hall and there's no one around. He takes a step out to have a better look and kicks something. Glancing down at it there is a small little box done up in ribbon. He picks it up confused and looks it over for a tag or card. There is an envelope tucked into the ribbon. It's sealed with wax. He goes back into his office, closing the door behind him. 

Back at his desk he pushes his journal to the side. He hesitantly undoes the ribbon to access the card, he must know who it's for after all and prays he can retie the ribbon properly when he must inevitably reassemble the gift to give it to the correct person. 

He never gets gifts like this so it's only logical to assume this is also not for him.

Flipping the card over all that's written there is "please do not tilt the box" in thin elegant script. 

He sighs, that should have been a little more clear somewhere on the box. At least he is sure he hasn't tossed it around… much. 

He stares at the envelope with no name anywhere and at the box similarly plain and sighs again. It looks like he will have to unseal it after all. This is all in the hopes of finding the correct recipient or sender at least, he will have to inform them of proper delivery etiquette once he does.  

He pulls his slender letter opener from the drawer next to him and slides it under the seal. He notices a delicate butterfly design is pressed into it and he takes a moment to admire the handiwork that must have gone into the stamp. He proceeds carefully to not damage the wax as he knows he won't be able to replicate that seal if damaged. 

Upon opening the envelope a dusting of glitter pours out onto his desk and he glares at it. How frustrating this would be if he didn't have a small dustpan and brush for his desk. Putting glitter into cards is so inconsiderate, he has never understood the practice.

He pulls the card out and more glitter pours onto his desk. He sneezes and causes the glitter to poof up into a cloud spreading it's awful little particles everywhere. He sighs aggravated. "At least now the poor sap who's supposed to get this package won't have to deal with all this mess." He growls to himself. "Instead it's my problem because someone can't check the office plaque." 

He shakes the rest of the glitter and opens it. In the same thing elegant script as was on the outside of the envelope wrote:

"To my dearest and most beautiful Doctor Oleander Deadman, I hope you my heart can do nothing but flutter in your presence and I wish I could quell it as still as this specimen. Yours faithfully and eternally~" 

He stares dumbfounded at this card, directed at … him?? 

He reads the card again, just to make sure he is reading it properly. Deciphering the script letter by letter to make sure that was indeed his name.

After pouring over it until he couldn't define the letters anymore. Every way he read it was his name and he sits back stunned. Who was this? He didn't recognize the hand writing to any of his students or colleagues. Not that he memorized every single style. 

He glances at the box. "*as this specimen*" floats through his mind. What could it be? He hesitantly reaches for it but stops. What if he was just wanting not see his name and it really said something else. He didn't get gifts like this, never in his whole life had someone gone out of their way to leave him a gift unless obligated. He chews his lip considering his options. 

Curiosity finally won and he picks up the small box gingerly. It's light, and nothing rattles around inside as he moves it. Its lid lifts off and his hands shake slightly in excitement and apprehension as he does so. 

Once the lid is removed he gently moves aside the white tissue the was on top, revealing a beautifully preserved and pinned butterfly specimen. It was large nearly filling the box with is softly iridescent lilac wings. A small gasp escapes him seeing how the light from his flames glitter against them showing off pinks and blues deep in the colors. A tear finds it's way down his cheek and he gasps again putting the box down and wiping it away quickly. 

How absolutely lovely. Who could have done this? Where could they have found such a fine specimen? These butterflies don't live around here. Not that that was too much of a surprise. But this must have take quite some time to bring together, the care it took to pin it so perfectly, and to bring it to him during the festival of hearts? 

He must find out who the mysterious gift giver is. But where is he to start?