"Then you may practice on me." Hadama's words were also quiet, but there was a calmness to them, and a subtle, gentle warmth in his eyes as he spoke. It did not matter that Jude did not speak the words aloud; the former Mer had a great deal of patience, and he was glad to extend it to the young man across from him.
Even - or perhaps especially - when details were less than forthcoming. Rather than pry, Hadama simply tilted his head in acceptance of the young man's privacy, and reached into his pouch for the letter. He had not broken the seal on the parchment meant for Jude's hands, the one whose handwriting he would recognize as soon as he saw it, and so the rings and the letter had been placed in his own envelope to keep them together and protected. And if the envelope trembled in the light Flowerbirth breeze, Hadama did not mention it, nor did he protest when the envelope was tucked away, unopened.
The last moment between father and son was not meant to be shared. This, he understood implicitly. And he only tilted his head in acknowledgment of Jude's promise, however unnecessary.
The reminder that he carried another weight that would no longer be his comfort and his grief was met initially with silence, and then a slow nod. "Harper helped slay the Kingmaker during the War. When it attacked Torchline. He wanted you to have its teeth. And his staff, for protection." Slowly he shrugged out of the pack that had rested against his back while he traveled, withdrawing from it a smaller bag that held a collection of heavy objects that clicked together as he set them gently on the table. A two-piece staff was set reverently beside them, starlight gleaming faintly from within it.
Then he sat back and bowed his head, his final promise to his friend now fulfilled yet somehow weighing even more heavily upon his shoulders without the physical representation of it to bear.
Even - or perhaps especially - when details were less than forthcoming. Rather than pry, Hadama simply tilted his head in acceptance of the young man's privacy, and reached into his pouch for the letter. He had not broken the seal on the parchment meant for Jude's hands, the one whose handwriting he would recognize as soon as he saw it, and so the rings and the letter had been placed in his own envelope to keep them together and protected. And if the envelope trembled in the light Flowerbirth breeze, Hadama did not mention it, nor did he protest when the envelope was tucked away, unopened.
The last moment between father and son was not meant to be shared. This, he understood implicitly. And he only tilted his head in acknowledgment of Jude's promise, however unnecessary.
The reminder that he carried another weight that would no longer be his comfort and his grief was met initially with silence, and then a slow nod. "Harper helped slay the Kingmaker during the War. When it attacked Torchline. He wanted you to have its teeth. And his staff, for protection." Slowly he shrugged out of the pack that had rested against his back while he traveled, withdrawing from it a smaller bag that held a collection of heavy objects that clicked together as he set them gently on the table. A two-piece staff was set reverently beside them, starlight gleaming faintly from within it.
Then he sat back and bowed his head, his final promise to his friend now fulfilled yet somehow weighing even more heavily upon his shoulders without the physical representation of it to bear.
