This is really affecting--I couldn't help being struck by all of the ways that Richard attempts to honor life by courting death, by sculpting it and enshrining it, because he's medieval and there is no other good way to mark the value of what is lost. At the same time, though, there's that soulful omnipresence of the dead--it's in part a haunting, yes, but it's also, incredibly, an almost architectural feature of Richard's life. He's built himself upon those losses, housed himself in them, lives in hope of sharing space with the dead. This fic is an incredible series of sketches of loss and mourning, and I'm deeply impressed.