In The Cold Grip of Grief

[Leopold]

Some Time Ago...

Time marched on wherever or not you marched with it. Minutes turned into hours into days into lifetimes if you were not careful. Leopold Winchester, who by all reckoning had lived two hundred and twelve lifetimes turned to his wife of many of those and smiled.

“This is the right decision.”

“Is it?”

Ruby looked up from her book, somehow managing to read at her lightning pace despite the trundling rumbustious of their carriage on the high road to Radasanth. Not even the hardships of the open road of a war-ravaged land could keep the spell singer from rehearsing her lines.

“Upping sticks and starting over has become what we do. We have spent so much, money, soul, and sobriety protecting Corone.” Leopold sighed. “We have had nothing in return.”

“I thought heroism was its own reward?”

“Too many dead men left in our wake to believe that now.”

“You’re still sore about Syrian.”

“About the man I got killed because of my own-“

“Do not dare try anachronisms with me today, Leopold.”

Leopold whispered hubris under his breath, the adage calming to his growing, turbulent stomach. He was not sure if it was motion sickness or guilt, but it made him wish he had brought a bottle for the road.

“If you disagree with my decision, why did you come?”

Ruby had spent the better part of the last three years building her life, her reputation, and her repertoire from the ground up. She had become distant, by her own admission, and found the offer an agreeable penance for her selfishness. Though she secretly liked the idea, Leopold would have to work for her acknowledgement.

“We have been married for more years than any alive can count. Marriage is about-“

“Do not dare try anachronisms with me either.”

The couple fell into silence, broken only by the rumble of the carriage over shale and dirt. Ruby kept her gaze on her book and Leopold remained gaze fixed on the distant shoreline that marked they approach to Radasanth proper. It took a while, but Leopold found the strength to make the first move.

“It’s hard, without Scara Brae.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Ruby closed her book sharply, which made Leopold tense so hard he put his back out.

“I want us to have a home. Free of guilt. Free of debt. Free of the ever-weighty presence of dead gods and forgotten ones.”

“Why dress it up in parlour tricks and long goodbyes?” Ruby glanced at Leopold.

“I wanted a fresh start and mean it, without getting dragged back into the same old circles over, and over, and over again…”

The troupe had sundered time and space to break free of the chains of history, never quite succeeding because they were intrinsically tied to the fabric of Scara Brae. When the island sank beneath the waves the troupe had trodden water for a decade, only now afloat because they had sworn to be truthful with one another.

“Then this is a proper goodbye?” Ruby looked out of her window at the island of Corona, suddenly nostalgic for all the war and wanderlust that had brought her to these shores.

“We have nothing here to bring us back. The others will meet us in Salvar by month’s end, or whenever they sever their own familial ties. Our troupe, in the hearth of the ancient gods once again.”

Ruby nodded. With a new perspective on their circumstances she started to come around to the idea as something they both wanted, and not just pandering to her husband’s whims. She took a deep breath of the faintly sea breeze and relinquished the last of her resentment.

“Let's hope Mr Osiris is a man of his word."