{se} my lips are full of ruby lies

Jude

I remembered I had fists today
I wash my hands and they are red like the sunsets of paradise

Any bitterness fades as Hadama's collected kindness remains unwavering, unbothered by his pitiful barbs. It just makes him feel hollow and sad, and the grip on his own shoulders becomes something more like a desperate hug, or weak lashings meant to hold himself together. After everything, Hadama's kindness stings like saltwater in an open wound.

Looking past Hadama to the strange, tall waves glowing seafoam bright in the moonlight just beyond the canal's edges, Jude swallows thickly and tries to pretend he's not looking away to avoid having to see evidence of a lie in response to the question on his tongue. "Is it only because you're King?" His voice wobbles perilously, luckily audible from where he is still peering, guarded and wounded, from behind his own arm.

Unfurling only enough to scoot closer and lean forward over his legs to take the spheres of ice, he slips one arm out of his jacket sleeve and uses the fabric to wrap them in before resting his face against them in place of his knees. The chill creeps into his eyes and makes the ridge of his brows ache with cold, but at least it feels good against the swelling. Blessedly, it also conceals his expression entirely for this next bit. "Do y'only care about me because of my dad?" It comes out small and vulnerable, far younger than his years. His legs creep closer, body tightening into a smaller ball. "I don't know who I am without him. Dunno if I ever was anythin' to everyone else but an example of his perfection." Perfectly raised despite all the turmoil, perfectly behaved even in the face of mockery and invasiveness. Always easy to compliment a boy like Jude. But is he anything to the people of Torchline when he's not at his father's side?

Am I a murderer?
Or did I just kill all my thoughts in self-defense?