It was enough for him that Jude was willing to try. Hadama inclined his head in acceptance of the young man's gratitude but he did not linger on the emotional weight of their own friendship. He had no wish to make things more awkward for his friend. And he had more gifts from a father who would not return to see the man his son would become. Weapons. Means of protection, of himself and others, to carry Jude through the seasons and the conflicts to come.
It was too much to hope that he might remain aloof from the battles that their world descended into forever. He had grown, become too big to protect and hide away from the dangers of Caido. But this much, at least, this last task, was something that Hadama could do for Harper. To give his son a fighting chance.
Jude's words, a whisper in the silence, hooked into the heart of a man who had likewise kept his mourning private. Who proudly bore the scars upon his skin and hid the scars on his heart behind stoic serenity and quiet patience. But those three words sank deep below the surface, piercing Hadama to the core, and there was a quiet hitch to his breath. An unfamiliar prickle of saltwater at the corners of his eyes, here on dry land where the ocean would not simply carry it away. "As do I."
But then he fell silent, lifting his gaze to rest emerald eyes on the lost son across from him, not hiding the unshed tears in them as he sat quietly to listen to what - if anything - Jude might need to say in this tenuous moment of vulnerability for them both. They spoke quietly in the shadows of the pagoda, mourning what had been lost. But, perhaps, finding some quantum of solace in each other's company.
~Fin
It was too much to hope that he might remain aloof from the battles that their world descended into forever. He had grown, become too big to protect and hide away from the dangers of Caido. But this much, at least, this last task, was something that Hadama could do for Harper. To give his son a fighting chance.
Jude's words, a whisper in the silence, hooked into the heart of a man who had likewise kept his mourning private. Who proudly bore the scars upon his skin and hid the scars on his heart behind stoic serenity and quiet patience. But those three words sank deep below the surface, piercing Hadama to the core, and there was a quiet hitch to his breath. An unfamiliar prickle of saltwater at the corners of his eyes, here on dry land where the ocean would not simply carry it away. "As do I."
But then he fell silent, lifting his gaze to rest emerald eyes on the lost son across from him, not hiding the unshed tears in them as he sat quietly to listen to what - if anything - Jude might need to say in this tenuous moment of vulnerability for them both. They spoke quietly in the shadows of the pagoda, mourning what had been lost. But, perhaps, finding some quantum of solace in each other's company.
~Fin
