And cobwebs of the winter time, weave up, weave up and over

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

[Mid-afternoon on Friday, November 13 (day 166)]
[Tavern of Hell]

've found I like the early afternoons here. No-one's really around, and the day's bright enough in the street outside to see by without bothering over lights, angled up along Silk and turning the window into a mirror from the outside. Folk'll probably be coming in--think it's Friday, not a bad day to knock off early--but for the moment it's quiet, and I can stand in the back tossing darts and thinking.

I've not had much to do of late. It's a little strange... I can't quite remember when I was out last. Not Wednesday, surely. Though I can't recall if I went down to Simon's on Tuesday or Thursday, bland bright chill days bracketing the rain.

And we're going down into winter again, and for all the time since I left Swansight, I'm yet going over those who live in town and wondering which of them'll not live to see spring. Pull the handful of darts out of the board, and sit down at the table with my head on one hand, sipping my drink and gazing out at the Tavern and the street beyond.

[Open]
[Closed - continues here]

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[marbasthefallen.livejournal.com]

Glass is already wishing I were gone, and her companion has taken a dislike to me, but they are still trying to be polite.
"Clever of you, Mr. Underwood, How old're you, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Just marked my forty-fourth year." I remark amicably, pulling a chair out, turning it around and sitting so I can rest my arms on the back of it.

"Suppose you're not really borrowing a place to live, then, unless he'd other kin... My sympathies on missing his funeral. I'd've known you were coming, could've had them wait. When did you come to town?"

"No other kin. Just the two of us and Father.. and he's with him now." I don't have to affect the soft tone of my voice, or the slight melancholy that echoes in it. I know Stephen Underwood is in a better place, it was so close I could have reached out and touched it. Hmmm.... seems there are some lingering regrets. "And we were estranged, no one knew I was coming. Only got here a few days ago. You laid him to rest then?" I ask rather gratefully. "Thank you, I am sure he rests easier now."

"Hope you'ah bearin' up alright. Let's drink to him. What was his name?" Nu proposes a drink in his honor, and like magic, Thomas appears with another pint for me, good man. "I am dealing with it as best I can, my thanks Nu. His name was Stephen." I raise my glass and meet both their eyes. "To Stephen."

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Drops the gazing out the window and sits down as easy as if it were his long-claimed chair in the Tavern. Settling in, oh good. I'd have a few answers yet, and I feel a smile inching in at the corners of my mouth. "No other kin. Just the two of us and Father.. and he's with him now." Tilt my head at that; apparently his mother's either not worth mention or not resting easy. Know some folk and places hold that of a woman died in childbirth, or else only forbid mention of them. Either might be enough to draw out his tone.

"Trust you'll catch them up given time," I say reassuringly, and oh bloody hell, Glass Beddau, that likely came out as sounding a little harsher than you meant it to.

"And we were estranged, no one knew I was coming. Only got here a few days ago. You laid him to rest then?" and I nod, quite assured of that at least.

"Let's drink to him. What was his name?"
"I am dealing with it as best I can, my thanks Nu. His name was Stephen."

"To Stephen Underwood," I say quietly, taking my drink from Thomas--ah, good, and he's brought the second one for Nu as well. Drink and set my glass down and smile. "Truly a lucky man, all things taken in balance."

After all, he had a forty-four year old baby for a brother who caught word of his condition despite cold estrangement so complete no-one in town ever knew nor mentioned he had kin since his wife and their child died seven winters back. A handy trick.

[nunaunet.livejournal.com]

Forty-four indeed.

"No other kin. Just the two of us and Father.. and he's with him now."

He does sound sad now, ayuh. Misses his daddy. Wonder if I've heard of him - or it. Feel a bit more sympathetic to this Arik, cos I understand family feelin'. Even though my fathah was also my son an' also myself, so it ain't like I got a regular view on parentin'.

"Truly a lucky man, all things taken in balance."

An' Glass is dry as ole bones, talkin' to him. Bones. Hm. There is somethin' of the grave about her, ayuh.

"You lay out the dead, Glass?" I say. "Bless you for that. I work more in beginnin's myself, but endin's need managin' too."

[marbasthefallen.livejournal.com]

"To Stephen Underwood. Truly a lucky man, all things taken in balance."

Glass looks highly amused, and Nu is keeping to himself if he has an opinion. I am sure Mrs. Beddau isn't buying my little story of being Arik Underwood, but the house is now legally in my name, and it would be hard to disprove Stephen did not have an estranged brother. I merely sip my drink and let the conversation flow by.

"You lay out the dead, Glass? Bless you for that. I work more in beginnin's myself, but endin's need managin' too."
Beginnings, endings... endings are just new beginnings... but still, I don't take Nu for a midwife, and there is something special about him. Even if I don't know, I can still sense more than human about him.
"Beginnings? What work do you do that allows you to work in something as hopeful as beginnings?"