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Sinric sits on the balcony of the bar, a fur coat pulled tight around himself against the cold. The snow is falling thicker and faster now, lacing the trees and the gardens in white.

He sings softly to himself, hands hidden in his sleeves.

Those with a gift for magic might notice a soft net of gold glowing under the skin of his pale cheeks. Even to those without such sight, he looks better than he was, more colour in his cheeks and his eyes look less hollow.

Company would be very welcome.

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"Sinric."

That is Ragnar, coming out quietly behind him.

Sinric turns to smile on him, reaching out a hand. "Ragnar, beloved." He looks lot steadier.

He pulls Ragnar gently to him, wanting the Viking's arms around him. "The snow is beautiful. It reminds me of Nippon."

Edited 2016-12-11 22:52 (UTC)

Ragnar puts his arms around Sinric and says nothing. Then, he sighs.

Sinric feels a heaviness in Ragnar, covering his beloved's arms with his own. "There is light to come, my love. I promise. It will not always be winter."

"Just before solstice, that's always hardest to believe," Ragnar says against Sinric's hair.

Sinric hums and nods, his slightly chilled fingers stroking the back of Ragnar's hand. "I want to saw you. Show you the joy to come. To give you that light. But I haven't mastered it yet, not enough to sure we would both be safe."

"I know, and I believe you," Ragnar murmurs. "It's just a bit dark right now."

"Will you talk you me?" Sinric ask softly. "Or would you rather be held and watch the snow fall together?"

"I'd like to talk," Ragnar says, "but I don't want to bore you."

He half turns to kiss Ragnar's cheek. "You will never bore me. And I never tire of your voice "

Ragnar is quiet, just leaning into Sinric's touch.

"It's about Athelstan," he finally says. "You've seen what he is like now."

"I have." He nods sadly. "And it worries me too. You are so close to leaving to take him back and yet he's so full of fear and darkness."

"The darkness feels as if cast on him by malevolent magic or angry gods," Ragnar says, "but where would those come from? And here?"

"When I am steady, I can look if you wish it of me?" He knows Ragnar will understand what he means. "But I fear it is more likely the darkness is borne from within. A darkening of his own heart he alone can overcome but we can fight with him."

He looks back out at the snow. "It was always in him, Ragnar. This isn't your doing. Even if you have never come for him, he could have felt it."

"Among his fellow monks, safe in his faith?" Ragnar says, sounding doubtful.

"Amongst his monks, yes. But not safe in his faith. Nor happy in himself. Athelstan was born to question, born to doubt. Even the night you came to the Holy Island, he feared the storm that carried you was the trumpet call of Judgement Day. What Christians have in place of Ragnarok."

"But why should questions only ever lead to darkness?" Ragnar asks.

"When they go unanswered. When those around you say you're foolish to ask. Or worse - mad. When no-one else can see that things aren't as simple as they seem. When finally you begin to believe there must be something wrong with you, because you questions."

"But he..." Ragnar says, sounding very unhappy and quite guilty.

"It would always be thus for him. Even safe in the walls of his church, writing until he was old and his eyes gave out, he would always be questioning. And those walls would become a prison over time."

He turns to touch Ragnar's cheek. "You and Athelstan are the pillars that hold up the bridge between two worlds. You because you seek, and he because he questions. It is who you are."

"But we are people," Ragnar says. "We love each other."

"We are people. We are parts of the great tapestry. We are toys of the gods." Sinric sighs. "We are ourselves and many other things."

"I guess I will have to deal with my love always getting overwhelmed with darkness and destiny," Ragnar shrugs.

"I'm sorry." Sinric pulls away a little, rubbing at his eyes. "The Seeing, it doesn't help. It doesn't fix things." His voice rises in distress. "I just wanted you to know it's not your fault."

"It is still hard," Ragnar muses, "to know that, even if it's not my fault, I can't help him to get better. We simply need to go forward, and I can hold him in my arms again in our world, take him home to Kattegat and my kids -- but he is just stuck, his decisions jammed up against each other, and so here we are, and unhappiness piles up. Helping you brought us closer than we'd been for a while."