New Dogs, Old Tricks

[Leopold]

Leopold lent against the railings serving to safeguard him from tumbling into the street below. From his vantage point he could survey most of Radasanth, with the imposing sandblasted towers of the Citadel imposing on the horizon. He sighed. Though he was just as eager as the rest of the troupe for this new venture, a proverbial turning over of a new leaf…

“I do miss the good old days.”

Much to his chagrin, the good old days were only a week or so ago. He dreads to think how much he would miss them as the days turned to weeks turned to months. He guessed, as with all trials and tribulations and other such metaphors, he would just have to come to terms with it as ever they did.

“What do you think, Rook?”

A small spectral bird flickered into view, hopping back and forth along the peeling paintwork of the railing as though he had always been there. It cocked its head at him inquisitively.

“Thought so.”

“Hey. Don’t put words in my beak. I was thinking.”

“Which is good enough for me. I don’t like this either.”

“You don’t like not being me, which is to say not being you. Always toying with darker things you can’t control.”

“Darker things with a penchant for metaphors.” Leopold glared at Rook.

“Since we share a mind, I’m going to let you have that one. What’s really wrong anyway?” Rook flapped his wings, toying with the idea of taking flight and making a swift exit. Violet feathers loosed from his body and spiralled downward into the gloom below.

“This acting business was never my scene. It was Ruby’s empire.”

“Ah.” Rook would have laughed if he could. “You don’t like being side-lined.”

“Side-lined is one thing. I feel like I’ve been put out to pasture.”

“Look around you chap.”

Leopold did. The crooked spires of Radasanth and its many varied districts was not too dissimilar to Scara Brae’s blanket of streets and styles. The house they had rented for the summer, to get their bearings and find a more suitable and permanent home for the troupe was of a similar design to their now sunken house in Scara Brae. Leopold felt a twinge of remorse for selling it knowingly before the island disappeared beneath the waves. He rather hoped the owner never found them.

“I guess it’s not so different. But what about us?”

“You know you hate it when I use your own lines against you?” Rook chirped.

“Yes…but you’re going to do it anyway…” Leopold sighed.

“You can’t teach a new dog old tricks.”

The merchant rolled his eyes as he swatted the Rook into a whorl of purple mist. Then, once again, he was alone. He listened to distant clocktowers chime and the six o’clock cannonade sound out evening’s fall to the city.

“I’m not that old…”

“Ha.” A familiar voice joined him.

Leopold bolted about and smiled when he saw Ruby walking towards him. The smile dissipated somewhat when the rest of his siblings joined her, emerging into the last dying rays of sunlight to shed the stuffiness of the library.

“Ha?” He hugged her.

“You’re so damned old, Leopold Rook. But like a fine wine you get better with age.”

Leopold pushed her away playfully.

“You insult me, but it looks like you took this old dog’s advice all the same?”

“We did." Wainwright answered on his sister's behalf. "She just picked any old shite off the shelves and bam, we have a play. Problem is though…” She darted him a glance that suggested he shut up, quickly.

“Yes. Yes, I know. I haven’t brokered a deal for a playhouse yet.” Leopold turned back to the panorama and waved his hands over his newfound playground. “You lot crack on with the rehearsals and leave the business of our new home safely in my hands.”

“I’d love to, but a week’s criminally small when you’ve got a million things to do. You and Arden will go the realtors now. And I mean now, Leopold, not in a hour, or after three drams of whatever gutter whiskey you’re drinking to save the best stuff for your damned cribbage games.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no to rainwater if it got me drunk.” Arden chuckled. “Shall we head over to the docklands first to see if the taverns have any tidbits?”

“No. We’re not buying a house off some pissant with a spice habit. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” Leopold gestured for Arden to follow him as he climbed precariously onto the railings and conjured two great wings. They flapped to steady him, casting a cooling shadow over the remaining three as Arden dove over the edge. With a trio of wingbeats, Leopold followed, rising momentarily before diving out of sight.

“You spend a decade teaching a man to be a gentleman and he still refuses to use the bloody stairs.” Ruby rolled her eyes.

“Let’s hope they’re that dramatic on opening night,” Wainwright chuckled. “What do we need to do now then?”

“Oh, come on Wainwright. What do we always do when we rehearse for a new play?” The redhead ushered Wainwright and Lilith back towards the door and into the cool innards of the summer house.

“Duh. How could I forget you’re a massive piss-artist? Fine, I’ll get the gin. You two meet me in the dining hall with glasses and we’ll get right to it.”

“Perfect,” she said with a bounce in her stride.

“If the first thing I regret doing in this new life if cleaning up your vomit, Mrs Delacroix, I’m retiring early.” Lilith’s tone suggested playfulness but sincerity.