(no subject)
Alcuin knew what it was like to wake up alone. A particular sort of alone, of falling asleep with someone there and waking up with them gone. He'd felt it when it happened with Giacomo, and when he woke up alone in Will's bed, somehow... he knew.
Their clothes were still strewn on the floor from the night before. All of their clothes. And the stack in the corner of the hut where Will kept the rest of his clothing, untouched. Everything was untouched. Alcuin couldn't even allow himself a glimmer of hope that perhaps Will had risen early, maybe gone to get breakfast...
He could have decided to walk to the Compound naked...
Don't fool yourself, Alcuin.
Silently, he climbed out of the bed and dressed in what he'd been wearing the night before. He folded Will's clothes and set them to the side. He picked up the book of poetry that Will had been reading to him from the night before and put it in his pocket.
Then he walked out into the brightness of the morning.
He just started walking, no particular direction. Maybe towards the Compound, maybe home, maybe towards Elua's statue. It didn't really matter. He could hardly feel his feet, his entire body numb.
He took the book out of his pocket and held it between his fingers.
To weep is to make less the depths of grief.
And so Alcuin walked, his body language weary and defeated. How many more times would he be forced to endure this?
[OOC: I wanted to get this out earlier, but was busy and then Internet problems... so please consider this as taking place the morning after Shakespear disappeared, whether that means forward-dating the disappearance or backdating this post, I don't think it really matters! Late tags are fine.]
Their clothes were still strewn on the floor from the night before. All of their clothes. And the stack in the corner of the hut where Will kept the rest of his clothing, untouched. Everything was untouched. Alcuin couldn't even allow himself a glimmer of hope that perhaps Will had risen early, maybe gone to get breakfast...
He could have decided to walk to the Compound naked...
Don't fool yourself, Alcuin.
Silently, he climbed out of the bed and dressed in what he'd been wearing the night before. He folded Will's clothes and set them to the side. He picked up the book of poetry that Will had been reading to him from the night before and put it in his pocket.
Then he walked out into the brightness of the morning.
He just started walking, no particular direction. Maybe towards the Compound, maybe home, maybe towards Elua's statue. It didn't really matter. He could hardly feel his feet, his entire body numb.
He took the book out of his pocket and held it between his fingers.
To weep is to make less the depths of grief.
And so Alcuin walked, his body language weary and defeated. How many more times would he be forced to endure this?
[OOC: I wanted to get this out earlier, but was busy and then Internet problems... so please consider this as taking place the morning after Shakespear disappeared, whether that means forward-dating the disappearance or backdating this post, I don't think it really matters! Late tags are fine.]