A brother.
A sister.
Two nieces.

It seemed an unthinkable amount of loss for anyone to experience in one fell swoop, but it had been all Roslyn could think about since she received the news. That, and how fucking fortunate she was that her husband and children were safe and well. Nemo was gone. Katia was gone. Bethany, Irma, and their father were gone.

Historically, the witch had disliked the term gone to refer to one who had died. It seemed at once both a soft and a pessimistic characterization; how, for example, could Ros say that her mother was 'gone' when she saw Delia in her siblings, her children, herself? In this instance, though, 'gone' was as apt as ever it would be: one minute they had been here, the next they were not. Though Ros longed to cling to hope—hope that, with further understanding of the mist, those she loved might be returned—she was far too pragamatic to do so. There were two small holes in her heart and soul where Nemo and Katia had been. These would not have formed, she believed, if her siblings' spirits had not left the mortal plane.

It was on these thoughts the witch was ruminating when her nephew had spoken. To say that Henry was adrift was something of an understatment.

"You'll live with us, of course," Roslyn answered matter-of-factly. It had not been a matter she had broached with her husband, nor even one she had given any thought, but as she said the words, the witch was certain of them. "For as long as you need. Charlie, Neville, Lily—we will raise them until they're ready for the wide world."

From girlhood, she had known she had no desire to be her mother, rasing a gaggle of children. She and Ross had taken certain precautions throughout their marriage to avoid just that, though accidents did happen (happy ones, resulting in Annie and Enid). But who else was there? Henry was scarcely more than a child himself; he should not have to raise his siblings too. Zelda was a marvel but her husband was not, Ari was unwell, and neither Julian nor Leonid nor Dorian were married. There was Xena, Ros supposed, but Xena had always been Xena. The boys were all nearly grown. She could be their mother for as long as they needed her.

She looked to her husband for confirmation.