JUDE
the light of dawn is coming
For the hanging moment where the tiger pauses but nothing else happens, Jude thinks he must be insane. Doubt creeps in like shadows along the shrinking hallways of his mind. Then, familiar but still undoubtedly grotesque, animal limbs twist and shift into the figure of a human. Of a young man.
Even covered in blood and viscera that's his brother, and nothing can stop Jude from walking forward as if in a daze. Edmund's broken plea is the only thing that forces him to blink, to even consider looking away. Suddenly the bodies ripped apart in the field don't matter with his brother standing there.
Stumbling gracelessly but stubbornly closer, Jude slowly shakes his head. "Then I don't care," he admits on an agonized exhale. "If it was them or you, it has to be you. It has to - it -" but his eyes are filling up with tears against his will, and Jude is suddenly so fucking angry. Like every pent up emotion is increasing fire in a bottle that's cracking and splintering. As he gets close enough he grabs Edmund by the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in his fists so hard they ache and tremble, and he shakes him hard.
"Where were you?!" he yells, voice already hoarse from prior fear. Shakes him again because he doesn't know how to let out this awful, blackened emotion he's so unused to feeling. "Why didn't you come home? Was it them?" One hand drops to gesture towards the dead men, but the other never loosens its grip as he stares, half-crazed and breaking down, into his brother's eyes. "You could've told me! I could have helped you!" Jude's voice is more of a shrieking scream than a roar, but it shouldn't matter how unimpressive he is, he would have done it if Edmund had just trusted him.
Even covered in blood and viscera that's his brother, and nothing can stop Jude from walking forward as if in a daze. Edmund's broken plea is the only thing that forces him to blink, to even consider looking away. Suddenly the bodies ripped apart in the field don't matter with his brother standing there.
Stumbling gracelessly but stubbornly closer, Jude slowly shakes his head. "Then I don't care," he admits on an agonized exhale. "If it was them or you, it has to be you. It has to - it -" but his eyes are filling up with tears against his will, and Jude is suddenly so fucking angry. Like every pent up emotion is increasing fire in a bottle that's cracking and splintering. As he gets close enough he grabs Edmund by the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in his fists so hard they ache and tremble, and he shakes him hard.
"Where were you?!" he yells, voice already hoarse from prior fear. Shakes him again because he doesn't know how to let out this awful, blackened emotion he's so unused to feeling. "Why didn't you come home? Was it them?" One hand drops to gesture towards the dead men, but the other never loosens its grip as he stares, half-crazed and breaking down, into his brother's eyes. "You could've told me! I could have helped you!" Jude's voice is more of a shrieking scream than a roar, but it shouldn't matter how unimpressive he is, he would have done it if Edmund had just trusted him.
ready to return everything the darkness stole
