Carrick's gaze hardened at Alcuin's next words. He mourned the loss of his beloved little bird, the boy he had set free and allowed to make a life far away from the wounds of his past, but he would not suffer to be pitied for it - and by a slave, of all people. When he saw the grief in the boy's eyes, however, his tension eased. He nodded slightly.
"And so you are alone." Carrick's voice was no louder than a whisper, as expressionless as always, but in the pale eyes there was a quiet understanding. His gaze dropped as Alcuin spoke of Hermes once more. It was true - his boy had been without shame, as comfortable naked as any ancient Greek had been. When Hermes had shapeshifted from avian to human form, feathers still in his hair, he had never cared that he was naked. And why not? He was beautiful. Neither modern sensibilities nor the Pacific north-west climate was amenable to nudity, however, so Carrick had sent a selection of hermes' clothes to Alcuin's master's home so that his slaveboy would be properly attired when he visited his friend. And now they were back. The final evidence that his eremenos was gone for good.
"You miss him." It was not a question. Carrick gave a sigh that was barely audibly, and paused for a long moment before he spoke again. "So do I." The cold night wind made the thin film of sweat on his brow feel like ice. Or perhaps that was just his heart, ancient and cold and locked tight again now that Hermes was gone. He turned away slowly and closed his hand around the spear once more, pulling it from the earth. He glanced back over his shoulder.