Jude
I remembered I had fists today
I wash my hands and they are red like the sunsets of paradise
Jude had hoped that hearing those words from Hadama’s lips would empower and comfort him, but he just feels…empty. Disappointed. But why? It’s exactly what he wanted to hear, the validation he craved the moment this spiral started. He can’t even figure out a proper response because he can’t hide the emotions plainly displayed on his face, so there’s no way he’ll manage it if he tries to speak. He wouldn’t even know what to say. I wash my hands and they are red like the sunsets of paradise
He equally isn’t sure how Hadama could possible help him, but he looks at the Tidebreaker through his drooping curls and can’t help but doubt. Jude doesn’t trust promises. He hasn’t since he was a child. So he just shrugs and curls further into himself. “If you want I guess.” Jude won’t hold his breath. Not until he sees some proof.
Standing is a painful collection of moments and movements but he grits his teeth and braces himself with a hand on the wall of the bar. “I’m gonna go to the fountain…thanks Hadama,” he murmurs, and turns to limp off, incapable of stomaching the weird feeling of disappointed aimlessness in his stomach.
- Fin!
Am I a murderer?
Or did I just kill all my thoughts in self-defense?
Or did I just kill all my thoughts in self-defense?
