Alcuin smiled humorlessly from behind the curtain of his hair. It wasn't the first time his former life had given him cause to be bitter, but it was the first time he allowed himself a single poisonous moment to reflect upon it. How many hours, how many days of his former life had he spent within the dusty confines of their archive with only his thoughts and translations to keep him company? That he should feel lonely now! Where was that boy who valued the written word over conversation and companionship now? Had he favored these things then he might have lifted his head every once in a while and sought it out. Perhaps if he had, he might have remembered the names of his fellows that died that day. How selfish was this person he'd become, that he should be lonely now? It never troubled him before – not even a little bit. “Yes,” he admitted, and again to confirm what the ancient already knew.
Hermes, his beloved little imp, had been set free. He was his own man now – for better or for worse – and he liked to think he was not so petty as to begrudge him this freedom. So, too, was his companion now free to pursue the love he felt for his sweet-tempered musician. Alcuin should have been happy for them, should have rested easily knowing they were safe and sound and doing what they loved, but the holes in his heart were too numerous to ignore. Soon, he thought, there might not be a single surface untouched by loss. And then...
Alcuin studied the ancient while his back was turned. Lord Carrick was rather like a monolith carved from stone and forgotten by time, as with most of his kind, yet there was something intrinsically different about him. Alcuin got the sense that rather than moving fluidly through time, the ancient had merely decided to stand still. “I saw only the end,” he replied with some reluctance, chewing anxiously at his lips in a bid for time. “but I felt much more.”