11-14-2018, 06:56 AM
Once or twice. Hearing it parroted back at him, Jude realized his own response was incorrect. He shrugged to himself; now they were even. Once or twice - maybe enough to know the late Sir Farr's favorite flower, or what he wore once to a Halloween party. Enough times, perhaps, to consider oneself a friendly acquaintance. 'Once or twice' was technically accurate. 'Once' was a little brook where elementary school children hunted for frogs and salamanders. But 'once' with Jude was an ocean, a span of time that stretched so much further, elongated by strange horrors that were best not discussed on lawns.
He had seen this exact conversation go badly. He had sat in front of the blood sigils with his sister, the tips of their fingers red and wet, and watched as adults three, four, five times his age devolved into choked sobs, hysterical laughter, paralyzed silence. Past a certain point, Jude could not distinguish belief from disbelief. It would be better if things did not go that way. It would be better if Near did not ask Jude to prove things, right here, right now.
"To talk to you. About... things your father knew." Jude sighed. He could not tell if it was his patience or his hope that was thinning. "Maybe you can help." Maybe he's not the one. Maybe. So many maybes, like raindrops from a cloud.
He had seen this exact conversation go badly. He had sat in front of the blood sigils with his sister, the tips of their fingers red and wet, and watched as adults three, four, five times his age devolved into choked sobs, hysterical laughter, paralyzed silence. Past a certain point, Jude could not distinguish belief from disbelief. It would be better if things did not go that way. It would be better if Near did not ask Jude to prove things, right here, right now.
"To talk to you. About... things your father knew." Jude sighed. He could not tell if it was his patience or his hope that was thinning. "Maybe you can help." Maybe he's not the one. Maybe. So many maybes, like raindrops from a cloud.