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 face is a rictus of chagrin and helplessness. Joan’s aggression is undeniably intense and unfair; not just to Sohalia, at least, but it’s a hollow comfort if she even cared to know. But his maman’s tenants of life were instilled from the cradle, and because Sohalia brings it up, the star-boy can’t leave it unanswered.
“It’s not your fault. She’s like that with…well, anyone who so much as sneezes wrong near me.” Fondness tugs secretly at his heart, appreciative of the ubiquitous nature of her protection where people can’t see and be disappointed in what is surely some degree of enablement because of his weakness. But her vitriol is just as novel as her protective nature. Smugness radiates from Joan because of it, but at least she settles down enough for Jude to cradle her again. “I’m hoping she’ll grow out of it and understand context soon.” If not, he’s going to get into a lot more fights unfortunately.
Sohalia’s immediate, stuttering acquiescence breaks Jude’s expression open into a relieved smile twice as bright as any he’s been able to give in a long time. This is the smoothest this could have gone, surely, and his relief and gratitude for that is enough to overshadow the omnipresent ache for a moment. Until she collects herself enough to investigate deeper.
Jude drops his eyes back to the blackened wood between them. It feels symbolic somehow. His fingers itch idly for pen and paper, lyrics tickling at the edge of his thoughts, keeping them just a little away from the current situation like a shield.
“It’s what it sounds like. I don’t…want to make you uncomfortable, or make this harder than it needs to be by going into the details unnecessarily.” Deference to her feelings and propriety as a whole is a cowardly escape guised as gentlemanly civility. His eyes remain rooted though, betraying the depth of her impact on him - just by sitting near him. Pathetic. “I can’t move on. I don’t know why. But it hurts, Soh-alia.” Jude stutters past what should’ve - could’ve - been an utterance of her nickname and winces in the cracked aftermath of it. “I can’t even swallow it down enough to just be friends, the way you said you wanted us to try and be. So please, just…help me move on.” Sighing, he drags a hand roughly over his face and lets it linger as a barrier between them. “Whatever’s fucked up with me, keeping me from doing what everyone else does - you don’t have to get involved. Safrin will help me fix it, and then maybe meeting like this won’t be so awkward anymore.” Maybe that will be motivation for Sohalia, a free escape from answering any of his other statements so she can gracefully side step the awkward, pitiable reality he has presented her with.
“It’s not your fault. She’s like that with…well, anyone who so much as sneezes wrong near me.” Fondness tugs secretly at his heart, appreciative of the ubiquitous nature of her protection where people can’t see and be disappointed in what is surely some degree of enablement because of his weakness. But her vitriol is just as novel as her protective nature. Smugness radiates from Joan because of it, but at least she settles down enough for Jude to cradle her again. “I’m hoping she’ll grow out of it and understand context soon.” If not, he’s going to get into a lot more fights unfortunately.
Sohalia’s immediate, stuttering acquiescence breaks Jude’s expression open into a relieved smile twice as bright as any he’s been able to give in a long time. This is the smoothest this could have gone, surely, and his relief and gratitude for that is enough to overshadow the omnipresent ache for a moment. Until she collects herself enough to investigate deeper.
Jude drops his eyes back to the blackened wood between them. It feels symbolic somehow. His fingers itch idly for pen and paper, lyrics tickling at the edge of his thoughts, keeping them just a little away from the current situation like a shield.
“It’s what it sounds like. I don’t…want to make you uncomfortable, or make this harder than it needs to be by going into the details unnecessarily.” Deference to her feelings and propriety as a whole is a cowardly escape guised as gentlemanly civility. His eyes remain rooted though, betraying the depth of her impact on him - just by sitting near him. Pathetic. “I can’t move on. I don’t know why. But it hurts, Soh-alia.” Jude stutters past what should’ve - could’ve - been an utterance of her nickname and winces in the cracked aftermath of it. “I can’t even swallow it down enough to just be friends, the way you said you wanted us to try and be. So please, just…help me move on.” Sighing, he drags a hand roughly over his face and lets it linger as a barrier between them. “Whatever’s fucked up with me, keeping me from doing what everyone else does - you don’t have to get involved. Safrin will help me fix it, and then maybe meeting like this won’t be so awkward anymore.” Maybe that will be motivation for Sohalia, a free escape from answering any of his other statements so she can gracefully side step the awkward, pitiable reality he has presented her with.
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
