a dream from which we cannot wake

Jude

In my head I am hunting for myself
but I come up empty again

Any amount of physical contact is soothing given how touch-starved Jude has always been, and whether it eventually reveals itself to be a noose or a collar, loyalty begins to take shape around his neck the more kindness Noe shows him.

She jumps to her feet in a startling rush, and Jude blinks up at her - blissfully pain-free despite how rough he still looks outwardly - confused but no less trusting. It's a miracle he hasn't been dissuaded from trusting so readily yet, but maybe tonight will prove to be worth it.

Taking her hand, he lets her lead him at a rapid pace through the streets of Halenani and back to the beach. He holds her hand the whole way. It doesn't feel romantic in the least - and his shattered heart surely couldn't imagine feeling that so soon - instead filling him with comfort and closeness that reminds him of younger days when hand-holding was meant for parents and follow-the-leader.

Maybe Noe is a mind-reader, because she leads him onto a deserted playground, structures shining under the half-full moon. He hasn't been here in years, but he knows it well. Still, it feels different in the dark. But she doesn't let him linger on that feeling, slinking inside a rather cramped structure that Jude willingly follows her into. It's small enough that it forces them to sit with their knees bumping and their heads slightly bowed toward each other, and Jude's laughter rings funnily in the space when it comes, helpless and thankful.

"This is maybe the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," he admits shyly, looking out the doorless entryway to the waves beyond. It sounds vastly different from the Stonesong outside his childhood treehouse, yes, but nothing can beat out the fact that this time he isn't alone. "Not sure I can write you amazing poetry in the dark though. And without a pen." He's far from suave, but he winks all the same, because it feels right to mimic her boldness, her mischief. Like maybe if he bends his fragile corners to align with her own shapes, he'll end up with some of her spark and strength too.

the night is a cavern
I am underneath it, inside it, anything but free of it