Augustus is a hundred and thirty when someone first notices his empty fingers.
About time, wearing gloves permanently could only hide his loss for so many years. He’d known he was risking it when he took them off the previous day, tired of having worn his father’s leather around his fingers for over a hundred years - the same leather that made up his boots when he let Hannibal lead them to invade Italy, leading him to his death. Most people these days don’t even remember the Punic Wars, too busy dwelling in the luxury of peace to look back on history.
The word makes Augustus giggle. History. If his soulmate hadn’t sucked at staying alive, he would be history by now.
He almost never thought about his soulmate anymore, too busy trying to stay alive without anyone figuring out the truth. He still looks nineteen, but it's hard to act that age when he has seen too much, when images of loss are brandished in his brain.
Augustus takes the gloves off and throws them behind a tree, before joining the group of people set towards Scotland. It's time to leave Rome behind, he had convinced himself a few days ago, it's time to move. You’ve roamed around enough here.
Without the gloves, it's not that hard to notice the lack of a soul ring. He knows people must’ve seen it, but doesn’t expect one of them to be so forward in asking about it.
“Why is your soul finger empty?” The stranger asks, stepping up to Augustus as he’s loading his baggage on top of a horse.
He doesn’t look much older than Augustus, whose gaze flicks to his ring, a dull yellow.
The stranger notices, and tells him, “It's been dark green for a while now. I don’t know what my soulmate is doing, but they seem pretty set on doing it.”
Ah yes, of course it's green, Augustus can’t help the spite crawling up his neck, and of course I can’t see it. Of course, the only constant that I have in my life is being fucking blind to color. Of course, I’m stuck on this earth when I can’t even see the full beauty of it.
He just hums in response, before going back to tending to his luggage.
The stranger prods him again, “I asked you something,” Augustus turns to him, and he continues, “So what happened? Did they die?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m sorry, were you two close?”
Augustus finishes strapping on his bags, and manages a faint smile, “Not really. We barely knew each other.”
All I knew about him was that his feelings changed way too much and way too fast and he couldn’t keep himself alive.
“Ah… still, it must be pretty hard, eh? Living alone?”
Augustus wants to tell him, but the possibility of scaring away the stranger stops him.
“You could say that, what’s your name?”
“Ezekios,” The stranger - well, Ezekios now - smiles at him, “What’s yours?”
“Augustus.”
“And why are you heading off to Scotland, Augustus?”
“To start a new life, move on from Rome, same old,” He tries to sound casual, “What about you?”
“My sister is getting married.”
“To a Scot?”
“You know what they say, love is blind.”
“Sure is,” Augustus agrees.
“I think I like you Augustus, would you like to be friends?”
YOU ARE READING
where the spirit meets the bones
General Fiction"Because they don't die, Auggie." "What do you mean?" "Exactly what I said. They don't die, they stay stuck at the age they were when their soulmate died, and their ring falls off. It reappears when their soulmate is reborn, and then they try again...
