JUDE
the light of dawn is coming
Jude couldn't care less about the blood. His anger is a short-fused thing that burns brilliantly, newly exploring this unforeseen freedom it has been granted, only to fizzle out quickly. Whether that's because he's unused to sustaining it or because it's Edmund is something he'll have to discover in time. All he can do is watch the blood on Edmund's shirt transfer onto his shaking hands, and wonder where everything went so wrong.
"You could have written a letter," he hisses, wanting to praise all the Gods that his brother is here and alive but still so full of hurt and loss. It's a useless, weak defense and even Jude knows it. How could Edmund have known the person on the other end of the letter would be a young man and not a child?
Withdrawing sharply from the tender touch is the only rejection he can afford, angrily swiping away his tears so he might look his brother in the eyes without looking pitiable. "Of course I'll help you, you're my brother," he snaps, though it's weak at best. Inhaling a shuddering, wet noise, Jude runs a bloody hand through his hair without caring how the ichor immediately sticks to his curls. "We - we either have to try and hide it, or try and frame it. Hiding them will be harder." He's horrified that he can even think in the face of such brutality, but they're already dead, and he hadn't lied when he'd said that he'd rather it be them than Edmund. "If we frame it, I can say I channeled a spirit for protection to explain how we won. Or that you were defending us." Amber eyes turn to Edmund, used to following his lead even now when Jude is the one proposing the ideas, feeling out what his brother thinks is a better option. "Or we just destroy any evidence of being here and - and get started on alibis." Jude doesn't know anyone with magic that could ascertain they'd been here, but it was still a risk.
"You could have written a letter," he hisses, wanting to praise all the Gods that his brother is here and alive but still so full of hurt and loss. It's a useless, weak defense and even Jude knows it. How could Edmund have known the person on the other end of the letter would be a young man and not a child?
Withdrawing sharply from the tender touch is the only rejection he can afford, angrily swiping away his tears so he might look his brother in the eyes without looking pitiable. "Of course I'll help you, you're my brother," he snaps, though it's weak at best. Inhaling a shuddering, wet noise, Jude runs a bloody hand through his hair without caring how the ichor immediately sticks to his curls. "We - we either have to try and hide it, or try and frame it. Hiding them will be harder." He's horrified that he can even think in the face of such brutality, but they're already dead, and he hadn't lied when he'd said that he'd rather it be them than Edmund. "If we frame it, I can say I channeled a spirit for protection to explain how we won. Or that you were defending us." Amber eyes turn to Edmund, used to following his lead even now when Jude is the one proposing the ideas, feeling out what his brother thinks is a better option. "Or we just destroy any evidence of being here and - and get started on alibis." Jude doesn't know anyone with magic that could ascertain they'd been here, but it was still a risk.
ready to return everything the darkness stole
