02-07-2019, 06:52 PM
Jude's expression did not change with the weapon in his hand. His mouth did not turn up or down at the corners; his eyes did not widen or narrow. The diameter of his pupils remained stable. If this was to be an execution, it was utterly joyless.
Why this room though? Why hadn't Jude hit Near over the head with the wine bottle in the living room? Why hadn't he simply vanished into the depths when he went to dry his hair, returning with a more reliable weapon, like a knife from the kitchen? If this was a movie, or a book, those sorts of plot holes wouldn't need answers. Everything was tied together by the red thread of fate, and by the self-satisfied immediacy of Now. But why? Why this way? Why? Why?
Well.
"Pay attention." Jude extended his left hand, and brought it to one jagged edge of the bottleneck. He blinked once, and then, with one deft motion, sliced his skin open the point. With his right hand, he spun the bottle, tapping the teeth against the blood running down his palm. Drops of it pooled on the bar, blending with the dark wood.
"O̶̡̯̤̠͙̼̲̊̈́ͫ͛ͧͦ̚l͗ͬͩ͢͏͖̩͈̰͉̳̻̤ą̴͇͚̜̾͊ͮ̑̃́ͅ ̵̛̘̜̫͕̈́̋͢m̶̱̭̦̹̙̰̈́ͣ͆͊͗ͩ̿̆͘e͌̾̀ͭ̚҉̹͇̼̹̣̪͔ã̴̩͚̗̘͖̻̂̅͢ ̱͓̤̤͉̠ͫͬͩ͂ͬ͝͞ẖ̯̐̀̽̉͟a̐̑ͣ̅͋͑ͩ͏̢̬͕̱̞̮̘ͅd̢̼̟̤̖̻͆͂͘͡u̬̪̻̯̮͔̮̜̓ͭ̌͊o̴̢̹̝̞̒ͫͩ͘ͅ.̷̿̀̍͊̈́͌̔̀̚͏̶̫̜̙̬̰"
Jude opened his mouth, but what came out was not a word. To call it a sound even felt improper. In a handful of seconds, it was the air thickening with humidity, the choking smell of something rotten, the heavy heat of a sunburn, the reddish darkness on the inside of your eyes when you closed them tight. The ear registered a vibration in concordance with Jude opening his mouth, but the sensorial flash dwarfed it, made the 'word' itself almost unhearable.
Then it was quiet, and the air was clean and empty, and the thunder purred against the roof.
The glass scattered along the floor floated up, gathering in a sparkling, swirling cloud like a school of fish. The shards swam through the air and rearranged themselves along the neck of the bottle, one at a time, flaring red with heat before settling into place. As the bottle came back together, Jude withdrew it from Near's throat.
Jude set the bottle, whole again, in front of Near. The process of reassembly had taken less than two minutes. The gin itself remained in pungent puddles on the floor.
Along the bottleneck, where it had been broken, were lines of red, pressed into the glass.
"Your father knew."
Why this room though? Why hadn't Jude hit Near over the head with the wine bottle in the living room? Why hadn't he simply vanished into the depths when he went to dry his hair, returning with a more reliable weapon, like a knife from the kitchen? If this was a movie, or a book, those sorts of plot holes wouldn't need answers. Everything was tied together by the red thread of fate, and by the self-satisfied immediacy of Now. But why? Why this way? Why? Why?
Well.
"Pay attention." Jude extended his left hand, and brought it to one jagged edge of the bottleneck. He blinked once, and then, with one deft motion, sliced his skin open the point. With his right hand, he spun the bottle, tapping the teeth against the blood running down his palm. Drops of it pooled on the bar, blending with the dark wood.
"O̶̡̯̤̠͙̼̲̊̈́ͫ͛ͧͦ̚l͗ͬͩ͢͏͖̩͈̰͉̳̻̤ą̴͇͚̜̾͊ͮ̑̃́ͅ ̵̛̘̜̫͕̈́̋͢m̶̱̭̦̹̙̰̈́ͣ͆͊͗ͩ̿̆͘e͌̾̀ͭ̚҉̹͇̼̹̣̪͔ã̴̩͚̗̘͖̻̂̅͢ ̱͓̤̤͉̠ͫͬͩ͂ͬ͝͞ẖ̯̐̀̽̉͟a̐̑ͣ̅͋͑ͩ͏̢̬͕̱̞̮̘ͅd̢̼̟̤̖̻͆͂͘͡u̬̪̻̯̮͔̮̜̓ͭ̌͊o̴̢̹̝̞̒ͫͩ͘ͅ.̷̿̀̍͊̈́͌̔̀̚͏̶̫̜̙̬̰"
Jude opened his mouth, but what came out was not a word. To call it a sound even felt improper. In a handful of seconds, it was the air thickening with humidity, the choking smell of something rotten, the heavy heat of a sunburn, the reddish darkness on the inside of your eyes when you closed them tight. The ear registered a vibration in concordance with Jude opening his mouth, but the sensorial flash dwarfed it, made the 'word' itself almost unhearable.
Then it was quiet, and the air was clean and empty, and the thunder purred against the roof.
The glass scattered along the floor floated up, gathering in a sparkling, swirling cloud like a school of fish. The shards swam through the air and rearranged themselves along the neck of the bottle, one at a time, flaring red with heat before settling into place. As the bottle came back together, Jude withdrew it from Near's throat.
Jude set the bottle, whole again, in front of Near. The process of reassembly had taken less than two minutes. The gin itself remained in pungent puddles on the floor.
Along the bottleneck, where it had been broken, were lines of red, pressed into the glass.
"Your father knew."