For all his meekness, Jude had his pride. His anger. And his youth. The questioning note, the flush of embarrassment, were reminders of just how young he still was. And how much he had lost. Not just in Harper's death, but in the disappearances of Phoebe and Maeve and Edmund. There had been little enough stability in his life that Hadama knew of, and that was before he had prayed to rush past his childhood. "Yes." A single word, but it held a certainty as deep and unshakeable as the roots of the Cordillera. The table was between them and Jude had pulled his hands back to himself so the Tidebreaker could not reach out to him, but he could at least pick up the pieces of a sentence that had dropped and now lay cracked and gleaming on the table between them. "You are my friend, Jude." An affirmation spoken quietly. Gently. But again with that simple sincerity.
And he was the son of another of Hadama's friends. One who would not be sending letters or meeting with him again without divine intervention. Although one letter still remained undelivered.
And for a brief moment, he was left to consider whether it would remain that way. Jude had not forgiven his father, it seemed, and Hadama considered the small items in the bag at his side. Whether or not they would be welcome as mementos of a father who had been largely absent in the latter years of his son's life. But--
"Adventures?" Hadama tilted his head curiously, and worried eyes warmed. "There was something, yes..." Several somethings, in fact, but the most important one was delivered first as he leaned back to reach into his bag. The letter was withdrawn and then slid across the table carefully. It was in an envelope that held two smaller items as well as a father's last words - a ring and pendant - and Jude's name written on it in Hadama's sharp script. "There is more. But I did not want those getting lost." Not as small as they were.
And he was the son of another of Hadama's friends. One who would not be sending letters or meeting with him again without divine intervention. Although one letter still remained undelivered.
And for a brief moment, he was left to consider whether it would remain that way. Jude had not forgiven his father, it seemed, and Hadama considered the small items in the bag at his side. Whether or not they would be welcome as mementos of a father who had been largely absent in the latter years of his son's life. But--
"Adventures?" Hadama tilted his head curiously, and worried eyes warmed. "There was something, yes..." Several somethings, in fact, but the most important one was delivered first as he leaned back to reach into his bag. The letter was withdrawn and then slid across the table carefully. It was in an envelope that held two smaller items as well as a father's last words - a ring and pendant - and Jude's name written on it in Hadama's sharp script. "There is more. But I did not want those getting lost." Not as small as they were.
