Jude
dagger to chest, I'll cut out my ego
I will not speak to you as an equal
I will not speak to you as an equal
Jude's eyes are taken past Sohalia's shoulder to watch a tumsea emerge in the shallow surf behind her. It feels like a bitter joke, to behold what is meant to be a good omen in this moment. Does it mean this will be a civil exchange, or is it purely mockery?
Joan drops her chin on his thigh, big eyes staring up at him until Jude can manage to look away. Looking down at her, he manages a small smile. No, none of Vi's creations would be so needlessly cruel. He has to try and hold onto that, to stick firm to his belief in Safrin and the freedom she has promised from this eternal hurt.
Sohalia's returned compliment returns his eyes to her, though he can only twitch one corner of his current, placid smile in response. He certainly believes it's politeness on her behalf. If he intended to respond, it dies the moment she greets Joan, who bares her teeth and slits her eyes with immediate animosity. Jude startles and curses faintly as he quickly holds her tighter, though she hadn't moved to lunge. "Joan, no." The dragonling growls but subsides obediently, though her onyx tail thrashes against Jude's thigh, kicking up sand where the very tip touches the ground.
Neck flushing with discomfort more than embarrassment, Jude mimics Sohalia's downcast eyes at the mention of Stormbreak, allowing them both their moment of retreat. "Sorry. She's...not very social." Protective, really, to the point of despising near anyone who has so much as irritated Jude a single time in his life. He hopes with time she will become less black-and-white about it all, but most days he is just warmed by her devotion. He's certain that's why Safrin gave her to him, to fill the hole left by so many people.
There's no offense taken when Sohalia gets down to business. For all she may have extended a hand and an olive branch that day in the Greatwood, neither of them had actually stuck to it. They're more strangers now than anything they might have been before. Only, she is free of the hurt, while he carries it with every breath. And he is desperate enough to be freed that he can lift his eyes to her and say it plainly.
"I wanted to ask for a part of you - a few strands of hair, or something like it." Joan's warmth beneath his hand becomes slightly slick with the moisture that accumulates slowly on his palm. But why is he afraid? He can't imagine her not supporting this, though she may make sad doe eyes out of pity. He can withstand that for this short time. "Safrin has given me a quest, so I can stop feeling romantic connection to the people I collect these things from." And, as his heart aches just to see her sitting there, Jude nearly begs, "So I hope you'll help me. Please."
Joan drops her chin on his thigh, big eyes staring up at him until Jude can manage to look away. Looking down at her, he manages a small smile. No, none of Vi's creations would be so needlessly cruel. He has to try and hold onto that, to stick firm to his belief in Safrin and the freedom she has promised from this eternal hurt.
Sohalia's returned compliment returns his eyes to her, though he can only twitch one corner of his current, placid smile in response. He certainly believes it's politeness on her behalf. If he intended to respond, it dies the moment she greets Joan, who bares her teeth and slits her eyes with immediate animosity. Jude startles and curses faintly as he quickly holds her tighter, though she hadn't moved to lunge. "Joan, no." The dragonling growls but subsides obediently, though her onyx tail thrashes against Jude's thigh, kicking up sand where the very tip touches the ground.
Neck flushing with discomfort more than embarrassment, Jude mimics Sohalia's downcast eyes at the mention of Stormbreak, allowing them both their moment of retreat. "Sorry. She's...not very social." Protective, really, to the point of despising near anyone who has so much as irritated Jude a single time in his life. He hopes with time she will become less black-and-white about it all, but most days he is just warmed by her devotion. He's certain that's why Safrin gave her to him, to fill the hole left by so many people.
There's no offense taken when Sohalia gets down to business. For all she may have extended a hand and an olive branch that day in the Greatwood, neither of them had actually stuck to it. They're more strangers now than anything they might have been before. Only, she is free of the hurt, while he carries it with every breath. And he is desperate enough to be freed that he can lift his eyes to her and say it plainly.
"I wanted to ask for a part of you - a few strands of hair, or something like it." Joan's warmth beneath his hand becomes slightly slick with the moisture that accumulates slowly on his palm. But why is he afraid? He can't imagine her not supporting this, though she may make sad doe eyes out of pity. He can withstand that for this short time. "Safrin has given me a quest, so I can stop feeling romantic connection to the people I collect these things from." And, as his heart aches just to see her sitting there, Jude nearly begs, "So I hope you'll help me. Please."
Label my pride and I'll cast it away
If power corrupts, then just let me be weak
If power corrupts, then just let me be weak
