Go lift your sails up for one last swell

[andhiswife]

And now the Poldarks are gone.

She doesn't even know how to process the losses anymore. She doesn't know why she's still here. How much more is she supposed to bear, exactly? There has to be a precise point where this all stops being worth the trouble. Hasn't she passed it, yet? Or is she still meant to believe this epilogue is some sort of generous gift, far better than an abrupt and undignified ending at the bottom of a cliff? Because she honestly doesn't know, anymore. She doesn't know if she wants a second chance if this is all that will come of it.

She especially doesn't know why they've left her the bloody house. She sits on the stoop, staring down at the keys in numb disbelief, and it's only because her friend wanted this that she can convince herself that this, too, isn't some kind of cruel joke.

Demelza would never be cruel. Not to her, not now.

Well. Not on purpose. Part of her can't help but wonder if this was something decided before Sam's disappearance, and they just hadn't got round to updating the paperwork. That would make sense. More sense than the thought of her knocking about what is unmistakably a family home with just a dog for company. It's absurd. What is she supposed to do with it all?

Go in would be the logical first step, but she hasn't yet worked up the nerve. After helping them move in, and visiting on several occasions, she has too clear an idea of how it ought to be. Not empty. Not silent. And certainly not hers.

Comments

[andhiswife]

Greta gives Amalthea's hand a grateful squeeze, letting her lead the way towards the forest. The path isn't especially clear, more of a game trail than anything else, but she trusts Amalthea knows where she's going.

It's been a while since Greta has visited Cabeswater. Once she realized she wouldn't be going home in any meaningful sense, those fate-tempting trips started to seem a little more fraught and a little less wise. Now... well, she's not miserable enough to want to leave, but she no longer truly believes she can influence the city by way of her physical location. If it decides it's done tormenting her and sends her away, it won't matter where she happens to be standing.

At any rate, it's good to be up and moving. Her muscles loosen, the soreness in her body eases. It occurs to her at some point to put the keys in her bag, and their occasional, muted jangling is easily lost amid the sounds of the forest. And though she can't feel the forest to the extent Amalthea can, she starts to get an inkling of when they might be nearing the border.

"I don't think I've come at it from this direction before," she says quietly. "Are we close?"

[on_mans_road]

"We are," she assured. She could feel the shiver of the forest ahead of her and she slowly released Greta's hand so that she could start shedding clothes. She had never quite determined if they would come back with her if she transformed while wearing them, and the last thing she wanted now was to find herself naked, again, with a long walk home.

She left them in a pile and moved forward, her long hair providing some modicum of modest covering. But she didn't need it for long. As soon as she felt Cabeswater she closed her eyes and thought of herself. The change was swift, but even once she was her proper self, the unicorn shivered all over.

Whatever troubled her, she pushed it aside and turned toward Greta, waiting for her.

[andhiswife]

Oh, and now she's just going to... right. Greta averts her gaze, cheeks prickling a little despite -- or perhaps because of -- Amalthea's apparent lack of concern. Then again, why would she be concerned? Greta's seen the transformation before, if not in this direction. She'd hugged her, last time. This is far less intimate by comparison. Still, Greta keeps her gaze elsewhere until the tell-tale flash of light draws her eye back to Amalthea. And by then, she's back to normal, and it feels a bit less rude to stare.

Amalthea looks back at her expectantly, and Greta picks her way forward, her steps faltering for just a moment when she crosses that invisible border. It's been some time since she felt that little jolt of magic, that shift from wood to Wood, and for a moment, she fancies that it felt a bit... different. A faint, perplexed line appears between her brows, then fades. It's probably just her imagination. Or she's misremembering. It's not as if she's been a frequent visitor these past few months.

She shifts her focus back to Amalthea, the sight of her enough to bring a smile to her face. It's small, and a little weary, but it's there. "It's always a relief to see you looking as you ought to," she says, drawing close enough to rest a hand on the unicorn's shoulder.

[on_mans_road]

Something felt wrong, and she felt it more in Cabeswater than anywhere else. Like something was looking for her. Tickling the edges of her awareness. But the forest looked normal, smelled normal, sounded normal. She pushed it out of her mind and paid attention to Greta instead.

"It feels like a relief," she admitted. She leaned close and gently nuzzled Greta's cheek. It also felt good to see the woman smile, breaking the sadness that hung around her.

[andhiswife]

Greta stills, both surprised and rather touched by the nuzzle. It feels like more than she deserves. Attention -- let alone affection -- from Amalthea always feels like more than she deserves. Which is why, though she's tempted, she resists the impulse to just throw her arms around the unicorn's neck and bury her face in her mane.

Instead, she contents herself with the hand on her shoulder, lifting her gaze to the canopy. "I haven't been here in ages," she admits. "I'd almost forgot how it felt."

[on_mans_road]

"I have been coming less," she confessed. "But it feels good to be like this again." Perhaps she would continue risking it; perhaps it was all in her mind and she just needed to let it go. Greta's gentle touch was comforting, warm against her shoulder.

"Do you stay away from it? Or have you not had the time or inclination?"

[andhiswife]

"A bit of both, I suppose," she says, dropping her gaze. "It seemed... well, once I heard about what happened back home, it seemed like it might be tempting fate, to come back. And I've been busy." Busy trying to make a life for herself here that might at least distract her from the ghost of the life she could have had. Busy watching the new tethers snap just when she'd thought she'd secured them.

It still feels like tempting fate to be here. Does it even matter, at this point?

Amalthea has no such excuse, though, and Greta's brow furrows. "I hope you haven't been forgetting," she says, and though her tone tries to be playfully scolding, there's genuine concern in her eyes.

[on_mans_road]

"No," she assured. "I haven't been forgetting... But there is something." The unicorn turned her head, looking deeper into the forest. Her ears moved as if she heard something beyond a human's knowing.

"It calls sickly to me. I don't know what it is or what it wants, but I hear it most in the forest."

[andhiswife]

"Something besides Cabeswater, you mean?" Greta asks, frowning, now. The forest has always seemed friendly enough to her -- as much as any magical forest can be. It wasn't malicious, at least. It didn't hold any true horrors. But sickly is an evocative term, and Greta resists the urge to roll her shoulders, as if to banish an itch. "That sounds... unpleasant."

A thought occurs to her, and she turns back to Amalthea curiously. "Is it... could you heal it? Is that why it calls to you?" She doesn't know how much of the lore from her world translates to the one Amalthea comes from, but unicorns do heal, don't they?

[on_mans_road]

A shiver rippled over her at the thought of going to it, of getting near enough to try to heal it.

"No," she answered. "If I went near enough, it would try to grab hold of me and not let go." She was certain of that, more than anything. It was not a weak sickness, but a corruption she felt. And it wanted her.

"It is not... a natural thing. It is not a sick animal or sick tree. It is a darkness."