If You're Sinking Like a Stone. {Clover}

[gamemaker kelsier]

Well I woke up to the sound of silence
The cars were cutting like knives in a fist fight
And I found you with a bottle of wine
Your head in the curtains
And heart like the fourth of july.

He could have been coming home today.

Instead, he died today.

"Or maybe even Pen," he says out loud to himself, sitting only footsteps away from where he 'buried' his brother and sister hours before. One of them could have been coming home today, but neither of them won, they both lost to a boy from another district. It's a cruel twist of fate, he can't help thinking, even though it doesn't make sense. One district ahead of their's, if it had been counting, maybe they could have won it. But maybe that's what all the siblings thought. Or how about the districts ahead of it, like one and two. The year before, Two won. Maybe it was going to count down. Maybe next year would be District Four's turn for a victor. It wouldn't matter, Pen and Fitz would still be dead and for naught. All it was for was for someone's entertainment. Like a gladiator ring. Well Jude hoped they were entertained, basterds. Stealing his sister and brother away like that.

"Aw yes, Jude, cause yah did so much tah stop it, didn't yah? You volunteered right? Or wasn't that yah dead little brother." In anger, Jude kicked at the dirt ground, rocks echoed off the cave walls as they hit them like an ocean spray. It was almost like dancing, the way his anger moved him to run a hand along the wall, and then pick up on of the pieces of coal that he left here before once, when he had sat with a dead girl. He drew with large angry, stunted gestures, two likenesses over and over, mockingjays, and sand castles. "It was their arena, truly," he mimicked, "And yet the District Fours didn't take it this year." The voice he used for the stupid game maker was not even close, his anger turning the smooth capitolite accent into something of his own Ripley accent. Anger serving to make his movements so agitated that the piece of coal broke under his hand and he skinned himself as he drew on with a stub.

Yelling in annoyance, "BUGGER AND FUCK," Jude threw the broken piece of coal at the opposite wall of the cave, resulting in a black mark on a very old sketch from at least a year ago. He remembered the day he drew it still, how Pen had asked for a future, and he had given it to her in the plans for a big old house for Libertines and Ripleys, and everyone in it wasn't ever hungry or cold, and very much alive. Staring at the wall opposite, Jude slid down the wall, feeling something course through his veins so badly that he was forgetting to breath again. He was afraid again, he could feel it, the day coming along to steal his air. The sun wasn't touching him in here, but every moment it crept closer in afternoon slant, and as Jude sat, unable to reach for his paper bags, stock still, he thought he could die.

Where's Penelope Libertine to tell me I won't.

You swore and said
We are not
We are not shining stars
This I know
Cause I never said we are

It was like that girl had the six sense. She often told him she did. Any minute now, she would come, and reach down with that pale skin, and that long hair hanging in her face and hand him his paper bag, saying with a soft smile, "Stop drowning and swim." He shut his eyes, thinking of it, gasping for breath like a fish out of water, and in the next moment someone was holding a paper bag up to his lips and he was breathing in air through the means of a bag. When he opened his eyes no one was there of course, and Jude himself had probably been the one to lift the bag to his lips. But sometimes when he looked out at the clearing, at the spot under the tree, he thought he saw a boy sitting there with a girl in his lap. Whenever he looked again, there was nothing. "Because you're only going crazy, yeh silly thing."

After catching his breath, he leaned his head back against the wall, and replied, "A boy can dream." How easy it would be to simply sigh and let himself go nuts finally. He was already half there. Penelope had always called him, her crazy Ripley, but never in front of the others. Fitz had probably noticed how messed up his eldest brother was, but had never said anything. The kid had always noticed a lot. his kid brother. He'd died. He was dead now, he wouldn't be coming home. Jude could pretend that he had simply moved to another District or run away to the fabled land of District Thirteen. But it wasn't true, was it? His brother was dead and he hadn't been able to lift a finger to help him.

"Oh stop lying Jude Ripley, yeh arse, yeh could have saved him. Yeh should have been the one teh volunteer. But yeh didn't cause yeh a COWARD." As if to put emphasis on the point, Jude stood and drew a long line through the house plans, shading it over with the stub of coal like it was nothing. "'Cause it is nothing, all of it was nothing, all of it was worthless." Like me, that's me, I'm worthless. Something that Jude couldn't even admit to himself out loud. "IF I CAN'T PROTECT THEM, WHAT AM I WORTH?" He dropped the chalk in disgust, and began walking laps around the cave, one hand on the edge. What was he worth? Not a lot, he'd already lost two important things, the amount left wasn't ever growing larger, only dwindling, and it was as if he was powerless to stop it. But maybe he was spot on with that one. Maybe Jude Ripley never had any power in the first place.

But I like to think I can cheat it all
To make up for the times I've been cheated on
And it's nice to know when I was left for dead
I was found and now I don't roam these streets
I am not the ghost you want of me

By the time he stops walking in circles, the sun is almost past the mouth of the cave, it can touch him soon. But he can't go home and see his remaining brother's faces, the pain they're in. He can't see the blame in their eyes that he'll see no matter what happens. He knows it's his fault, it's always his fault and there is nothing he can do about it. It's like he's a Grim Reaper and his family is the race he's helping to extinguish. Everyone he cares about, they're going to be gone, gone, gone. "AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" He screams in anguish into the deep of the cave and his voice comes back to meet him in undulating waves. He wishes he could just forget, just go insane and be done with it. But he's never going to let go of the thing called his sanity when he still has two more brothers and a mess of Libertines to help care for now that Pen is gone. Besides, they rely on the Ripley goods brought in by the Ripley robbers to sustain the pawn shop. Maybe Jude was still needed.

"Needed? Why would anyone ever need yeh, yeh dumb thing. Look at yeh, what can yeh do? Nothing, you're no good, you're a fucking failure of a brother, and as anything good. Look, fuck off yeh? I don't need this! My brother and sister are dead, right? You can leave now. Oh Jude, Jude, Jude, I don't leave, yeh know that, sweetling. You're stuck with me. For better or for worse, till death do us part! Besides, who would you argue with, without 'lil old me? No one, and wouldn't that be peachy for a change? I could finally have some peace and quiet, hey? Be alone with my thoughts is what I think they call it. Oh love, yeh'll never be alone, not when yeh got me. How lucky yeh are, to have someone like me to be with always. Yea, lucky. That's what they call it. Oh really, why don't ye-"

He stops in his tracks, closer to the back of the cave than the front, so the sun is shining into his eyes and he can't really see what's over there, but he sees a figure, and she's small with lots of hair, standing like she owns the place. Maybe she does, it's only ever half belonged to me. For a moment there, he thinks it's Penelope Libertine casting her shadow onto the ground, but that's just a folly to even think of, and if Jude is one thing, he isn't hopeful in the least. Wearily, he stands waiting, one hand on the wall, the other holding a bedraggled paper bag. Maybe it's just a spektor and it'll go away, leave him in peace to shout at himself because now there's no one to calm him down and to stop him from making himself burst into tears or something worse when he can't take the guilt and pain anymore. This wild haired creature blocking the sunlight is just a passing attraction, there can't be anyone else to free him, to rescue the fair dame because who would rescue something so broken. If you're going to pay for something, pay for something worthy.

If you're lost and alone
Or you're sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on, carry on

[florentine, d4b ❁]

[presto]

nessie libertine
fifteen
district four

[/presto]

---

THE SEA MEETS THE LIGHT IN HIS SALT WATER EYES

---

She sits with her legs crossed, her hair ruffled and splayed out behind her, her mouth poised in a perfect pout. She hasn't smiled in weeks. Delicate hands reach out to slay dragons and end up tugging daisies loosely from the dirt. Nessie Libertine has not cried, not once, not since the day she saw her sister fall. Through the window she watches Fitz lunge towards the tiny girl. Mahlah is not so different from Nessie - a wry, twisted glance crumbles away to nothing as she is taken down. Twenty-two all gone, and only one more unfortunate to go before somebody comes home. The child decides that if Fitz ever dares show his face at the Libertine shop again he will regret ever having tried. She is a girl who firmly believes that if one is destined to fail, trying is but an injustice to oneself. Better man have fallen that Fitz Ripley. She would never admit it, not to anybody, but Nessie trusted him when he had vowed to do his very best to bring her sister home. And he had failed in his task and then had the nerve to kill in order to get home himself. "Give up, Fitz." Her words are a hoarse whisper - her voice a tool she has not found use for in the days since her eldest sister's death. She watches the Goravich boy strike. The daisies crumple between her fingertips, their petals flaking away. They hide themselves amongst the grass. She watches the Games through the window, because she prefers not the luxury of the fire. Ashes to ashes, Nessie. She wants him to die. She wants the boy who failed his one simple task - to bring the girl who's soul she kept safe - back to her. She watches, expressionless, as he too loses the Game. Nobody is coming home today.Suddenly Nessie is not entirely sure that dying is the correct price for the boy to pay. He is, after all, just a boy on a mission. She curls her legs to her chest and watches closely, abandoning her flowers and instead clutching her locket with shaking hands. In truth she doesn't know if Penelope's soul lies inside. Does burning a photograph kill the soul within? She doesn't know, but the tiny child thinks that perhaps it is best not to think about such things. Losing oneself in thought usually ends in catastrophe. For Pen it ended everything. Her bare feet sink into the sand just a little as she crosses the shoreline. The tide is even, in and out, in and out, not knowing nor caring that Penelope and Fitz are dead. The sea is like that - even when blood spills endlessly into it's depths, it doesn't change. Doesn't blink no matter how many bodies crawl to the shore to utter their very last words. The ocean is magnificent and it cares not for casualties or sorrows or her sister or the boy who was practically her brother. Nessie looks to the uneven line where the sky meets the sea and hopes that the water that washes up at her feet is the same as the water in the arena. The sea her sister owned. Because if Penelope Libertine was not the ocean and the birds and the sand and the foam that floats away despite the tide, then who was she? Just a deluded, unstable little girl who was tumbling out of control? Nessie would never believe anything close. In truth, the girl had always idolised her sister. The only member of the family who could make Nessie feel as though perhaps she wan't quite so crazy as the others made out. In a world of uncertainties, Penelope is the only constant, the only soothing word. From her, Nessie never had to run. The sea beckons, it calls, however the child wades no deeper than the shoreline. Like the others, she learned to swim when she was young, but her place was never really in the water. To her, the sea felt dangerous. It was a place of hidden monsters that you never saw, a place of soldiers souls and pirate ships. It was a place that stole lives from the innocent. To Nessie, it was nothing more than something Penelope had loved. She ached as she looked over it. For a girl who needs nobody, Nessie is doing a terrible job of not needing her sister. The tide is coming in and Nessie takes a hesitant step back. In a way she wants to be swept out to sea, because then she might see Penelope again. But Pen wanted her to hold on. When it was too hard and everything hurt and the fear got too much the girl would make it a little bit better. Nessie didn't always have to run away. Now, of course, she had no choice. Cold feet pound against the soft sand, and it slips away as she attempts to hold her footing. Nessie Libertine is doing what she has always done, and now there is nobody to hold her back. This time, when she flees, nobody calls her name and nobody cares that by the time night falls, she will likely still be hiding somewhere. She doesn't cry when people are watching.] When she is all alone, it is a completely different story. The cave is always empty, except today it is not. A hollow voice sounds from the inside, but Nessie does not turn away. "Jude?" she whispers, speaking for the first time in what seems like eternity. This is the brother of the boy she cursed, someone Nessie has always looked up to in awe. And yet when she looks at him, her eyes are dark. Hollow. Empty orbs of broken dreams and goodbyes that didn't take quite as long as they might of. Ashes, photographs, writing on the walls of her cave. She bites her lip, feeling as though she is intruding upon something personal and yet far too stubborn to leave the boy in her cave. "You saw, then? You saw the end?" She doesn't mention how she wanted him to die anyway, just another person she once cared about falling to the ground. With that, the tiny child picks up the chalk that lays by her feet and raises it to the wall. She writes in one fluid motion, a word that had been present in her mind forever. Her first word, her last. Penelope.

ICY PICTURES OF THE WATER ARE CAPTURED IN HIS FRAME

[gamemaker kelsier]

This growing old is getting old
I often find myself here thinking
About the birds, the bees, the past loves
That flew away or started sinking
Carry on, love

When jude became the head of the Ripley family, he went into a different train of thought. He'd always been caring and watchful of his brothers, because that's what an older brother should be, but he began to look at people differently too. he wondered who was caring for them and if they thought it was easy too. He wondered if other people couldn't handle the strain anymore then he could, and then he also began to care for others almost as much as he cared for his brothers. It mostly happened to the family they had coexisted for so long alongside with. The libertines became a constant force for Jude, one that he had to watch too. A lot of people called them a little bit crazy, but Jude had come to the conclusion long ago that everyone was when it came down to it. He'd always had a particular fondness for the ones that leaned towards the crazier side however, and that had always been Pen, and Nessie. Sweet little Nessie who hated photographs and didn't like talking to people. He'd always felt particularly protective of them at school, when any of them bothered to show up, where people liked to pick on them. This hadn't been strange because Jude took care of everyone. You could always count on Jude, /calmly/ taking on every obstacle in his path! Shut it.

When Nessie stepped into the cave, a queer queezie feeling came to Jude's stomach, making his heart feel like it was bleeding in a lovely way. He thought that it was the feeling of knowing he failed people he promised to care for, but the way the light was shining off her hair might've been it too. She'd always been so beautiful and delicate. Something to be careful with and to protect., but he hadn't been able to protect her from her sister's death. Wherever there was Penelope, Nessie had never been far behind. he knew she had idolized her, but who wouldn't? The girl had always been brighter than any gold he had found clutched in the hand of a dead man. he had been comfortable walking down a road with her, knowing that when people stared, it was because of her. People loved her, he knew. Not him, never him. He was cold and distant with those he didn't know. They called him too reserved, but that had always been because of the personal battle he always seemed to be fighting with himself. that voice inside his head that only ever told him ugly, yet truthful things. Jude! Are you flirting with me?

He didn't know how things had gotten so messed up. Uh, yeah you do. First your dad died, then your mom, and now Fitz and Pen. Everyone's dropping like flies, baby. You can't deal with it, you're going bonkers. He knew that things had gotten messed up, but in the end, there'd always be people to care for. When they were all gone, then he could go 'bonkers'. Not until they were gone could he do so however. He still had Nino and Noah. Two brothers left. Maybe they'd be a bit lost without Fitz, but the three of them would muddle through somehow. This would not be like when his mother and father died. That had been devastating, but they had not been Fitz or Penelope. They would never be the same again. One day he might absentmindly call for Fitz to clean up his room or something and there would be no Fitz to do so. One night he might knock on the Libertine door and ask for Penelope and no feet would hit the floor with a *thump thump thump* to come greet him.

And it's crazy here without you
I used to think this all was ours
We'd stay up late
Debate on how we find our way
You'd say it's all up in the stars

He flinched when Nessie picked up the chalk lying on the ground and wrote /her/ name in big sprawling letters. He din't need a reminder that this had been her hide away too, that this cave wasn't only his. He didn't need to have that written across a wall she had stood in front of, or touched with her long, thin fingers. She was already far too present in the small space, too physically there for her to fill up more. He didn't say anything however, kept it too himself, the feeling of panic already beginning to fill him. He felt like he was sinking again, he was always sinking. It was always all quick sand that he was slipping into and there wasn't one thing to be done about it. He would drown one day and it was just something to look forward to. Until that day however, he had to go on struggling to slip out, and climb forwards. It would always be a struggle, especially now that he had lost a crutch.

Tiredly, he came forward to stand in front of her. He almost towered over her, he could have if he wasn't so tired. He had stayed up for a long time watching his brother die, watching the replays, flipping through channels to watch Capitolites shed tears for a boy they had known for only a couple of weeks. It was satisfying watching their tears in the hollowest of ways, knowing that they had never really loved him. In a week they would forget them. He was his usual shade of pale, if not paler because of the weeks spent barely moving from the television. He seemed hollow and gaunt, bendable. One shove and he'd topple over. But still he straightened, and stood tall, an easy smile coming to his lips. Jude Ripley wasn't the type to let others see his weakness. Not those he cared about so much. Not when they needed to be strong. Looking past her, he dared not look right at her, he nodded slowly, "Yes'm. I did, I saw them both."

Listlessly, he carefully took the piece of coal of the ground and brought it up to sketch the wall again, soft lines turning into a face, and then features, and hair, mixed with clothing. Hard lines of a smiling mouth, and eyes that twinkled from the cave wall. "I saw 'em both." He said, as if to confirm it. His hand flew faster along the cave wall as he added detail to the face, hands growing black with chalk. Her name rippled beside her as her body grew under Jude's hand, delicate features coming to life on the wall, as if it was a photograph growing in front of their eyes. And from her right hand grew another hand holding it, then an arm and a whole other body as Jude remembered it, both smiling, happily into each other's eyes as they could have been if they had lived. Short, curly hair, and an impish smile from Fitz Ripley. With a flourish, he wrote Fitz' name in big spraling letters beside the sketch. "I saw them die," he said softly, letting the chalk fall to the ground again. Leaning his head against the cave wall, he stared at from the side, weary defensive curling up like ash in the pit of his stomach as the panic climbed higher.

"Did you hear me talking to m- to anyone?"

And you, you're always holding onto stars
I think they're better from afar
No one is going to save us
And me, well I am fading in the dark
So don't you ever kiss me, don't you wish on me

[florentine, d4b ❁]

[presto]

nessie libertine
fifteen
district four

[/presto]

---

THE SEA MEETS THE LIGHT IN HIS SALT WATER EYES

---

Nessie Libertine remembers hiding. Fingers shaking, neck twisting backward, red hair falling in a blanket over her tiny features. Just a game, little-girl Libertine. Only pretend. The words she uttered to herself over and over fell silent, because perhaps now he was coming for her. Not a monster, just Jude. Hardly daring to breathe, the child concentrated on the way the waves rocked the boat ever so gently, as though attempting to lull her to sleep. She refused - nightmares can't hurt you while you're wide awake. The child turned, already restless. Impatient from the beginning."Ready or not, here I come." She gasped, and then held her breath until her face went pale. Determination ran through her veins, because she was Nessie Libertine, and she was going to win hide and seek. It was cold at sea - late autumn far more biting and bitter than any other the small girl knew. It didn't mean she was going to give up. Clinging to herself tightly, tugging at the material of her dress, she waited. Waited for him to come, waited for him to not come. After a while, Nessie forgot what she was waiting for. Moments before she had been chasing a boy, four years older than herself, across the boats. Hopping from one to the other, feeling them sway beneath her bare feet. Cold metal, high-pitched laughter, a sea to themselves. Balancing on the ropes that tied the fishing vessels to the dock, dipping toes in the freezing water. Jude Ripley had won, of course. Longer legs and years of experience marked him faster than her, quick and slight as she was for a girl of almost five. She remembers the way his hand reached out to pull her along, because he would never let her get lost. Being lost, of course, is what Nessie Libertine has always done best. So she hid, listening to him count, wondering how many years it will be before she too can count all the way to one hundred without using her fingers. Her scarlet hair left red marks on her cheeks, but she refused to move. And then the boat started to float away, slowly at first, but then the motor kicked in and suddenly they were moving, out to sea. For a girl who liked to lose herself, she was quick to her feet. The child stood on the deck, fingers twitching and eyes wide. Mama never told her what to do if she was hiding in a boat and then it started to drive away and you weren't supposed to be aboard to begin with. Mama never said. Even then, Nessie was quite used to doing things herself. Alone, she stood tall, clenched her fists and let her curls fly out in the wind. A single tear rolled down her cheek, because as much as the child wanted to escape, she also wanted to be free, and suddenly the ocean that completely surrounded her was dangerous and scary and dark. "...Jude," she sobbed helplessly. And then, "Help me! Jude!" And then he was running toward her, because he was her friend and he was going to save her. Jumping so quickly from boat to boat, the boy stopped short all at once. He stopped, because that was where the wood ran out and the ocean began. Nessie looked at him, pleading. Even now, she remembers his words. "Jump, Ness." That was what he called her. She could have jumped. If she had leaped overboard at that seconds, she would have landed in his arms. Safe, home. But she didn't jump. Nessie Libertine looked at him, staring without words, great green eyes terrified. Please, save me. (Save yourself!) She hesitated, just for a second, and the moment slipped away and the boat lurched forward and the precious moment they had was gone. Together, they eyed the freezing water. When you are a child, every ordeal is dramatic and filled with possibility. To them, Nessie was being stolen away, never to return to her home. The purr of the engine faltered, and she jumped. The cold of the water never left her heart. Nessie Libertine remembers drowning. Water filling her lungs, weak arms thrown out and dragging uselessly against the sea. She would swear she felt the constant thudding of her heart stop, just for a moment, as the lacy fingers of almost-winter crept around her. They held her, and she closed her eyes and stopped fighting and just stopped. Hands grasped her limbs, clawing at her clothing and heaving her limp body back onto a docked boat, clambering up after her. They lay together, curled on the deck, letting the faint sunlight leech back into their blood. Hair dripping, clothes torn and soaked, the ocean seeping into their very bones. After a very long time, Jude spoke. "You know, Ness, you've never said a word to me before." The girl remembers nodding, blinking at him through teary eyes. (She doesn't talk, much.) Little Nessie managed a weak smile, and then, "I needed you." She crumpled up her nose, closed her eyes, and held on tight to the boy who had just, perhaps, saved her life. She didn't thank him, she didn't need to. That was the first and last time Nessie Libertine lost a game of hide and seek. She does not meet the boy's eye when he stands in the cave - her cave - many years later. He answers her question dutifully, and she knows that it must have hurt him far more than it hurt her to see them die. She loved Penelope, yes, and Fitz was always kind of there, but it had always been Jude's job to protect Fitz, to care for everyone. The boy who pulled her from the water when she was four and he was eight, the boy who somehow managed to keep his brothers safe and well. All at once, he had failed. Nessie watched, ran away and hid. Jude loved. It's an awful lot harder to stop loving than it is to stop hiding. Dropping the chalk, he looks at her. "Did you hear me talking to m- to anyone?" What he means is did you hear me talking to myself, Ness? Jude Ripley means, shake your head and pretend like we're not both going crazy. The words are simply a plea to go on pretending like everything is okay. Obediently, Nessie shakes her head, smirking just a little. She ignores him. "I come here a lot." The girl pulls her shoes from her feet, frowns, and throws each of them at the wall. So calm and yet so filled with anger. One flies aimlessly out of the opening in the cave, and the other falls somewhere in the shadows, never to be found. Not that she cared. "Thank you, Jude. For saving me." The girl isn't entirely sure if she is accusing him of not doing enough to save Penelope or still remembering the feel of the salt burning her lungs, the desperate grasping at the water that slipped from her grip. Nessie Libertine remembers hiding.

ICY PICTURES OF THE WATER ARE CAPTURED IN HIS FRAME

[gamemaker kelsier]

This growing old is getting old
I often find myself here thinking
About the birds, the bees, the past loves
That flew away or started sinking
Carry on, love

Jude's mother had once told him that one never really knew a person until they properly loved them. He hadn't ever really understood what she meant until he got older, until small absences began to weigh done his heart like a chunk of molten rock. He had thought that falling in love was meant to be a fast and quick thing, not something slow and rough, like a dance step, cut off when it wasn't done being made. He'd thought that love wasn't something that crept up on you like a corpse in the night. Not like a dream that swept over you while you were lying awake at night. Some people got love quickly, and then slow. Some people got it not at all, and then all at once. Jude hadn't known he had ever been falling in love until one night he was too awake to be asleep, and found himself thinking about a girl. Then he wondered if that girl was thinking right back about him, but he never asked, and he didn't wish that he had. Becasue now he didn't know if it was the girl he loved, or the idea of her.

But that was also what love was, wasn't it? The idea of someone, the idea that you carry inside of you, nesting somewhere inside like a bird. You didn't truly know a person until you loved them, but you also couldn't truly love a person until you knew them. That's why they called it falling into love, because it would always be an uncertain thing, never sure if you're going to land right where you wanted, or if you're landing right back where you started. Either way, love was going to flip flop Jude Ripley around, and not in a kind way at all. Since when has anything ever been kind though? His mother had said that what was meant to be, was meant to be. He knew that Penelope had never been the one for him, even once when she had experimentally kissed him, because they were young and didn't understand, he knew that she wasn't the one. For all her colour, and her brightness, when she kissed him, nothing washed over him. Not a warm wave like his father had promised him there would be. He hadn't known her yet, and he never was going to properly know her. Not in a million years.

Nino had once told him that there were plenty of fish in the sea. Jude hadn't understood, because of course there were, no matter how many the fishermen caught, there always seemed to be more. Panem would likely never run out of fish, because they hadn't yet, simple as that, and really, the comment was nonsensical. Then he realized that he was using it as an analogy and it all became clear in a heartbeat. Just because one girl wasn't what was supposed to be the world for him specifically, it didn't mean it was over, far from it. There would be other girls, other people to love. his brother and his old friend were dead, but there would be other people to love, not to take their place, but just to be loved, to be known, and that was good for Jude. Not something he would easily accept, and not a guilt that he would let go of very quickly, but a thing to note just the same.

And it's crazy here without you
I used to think this all was ours
We'd stay up late
Debate on how we find our way
You'd say it's all up in the stars

A feeling of relief washes over him as she mutely shakes her head, not caring if she is being honest or not. With that shake of her head, it is like a seal that she will not say anything. he knows Nessie Libertine, and she wouldn't say anything anyway, not about him. She was prone to acts of honest cruelty, like her sister had been, but she had never been mean to Jude, not without reason. The Libertines were fair, and delicate seeming creatures, but like the sea, their tempers changed within seconds, never wholly just happy, or just sad, always a strange mix, an oddity. A broken thing. That was why people were attracted to them. Like looking at diamonds in the pawn shop, they also went to see the pale skinned Libertines.

And he can feel the anger like a coming storm, even if she doesn't show it in her tone of voice or her face, because he knows little Nessie Libertine, and she's an introvert, like he is. He can see it in the way she tosses her shoes, with a listlessness that tears a soul in two. She's upset, and he thinks it's because of the death, for a second he thinks it's because of him, and rightly so. If I hadn't failed at protecting them, they'd be alive, and she wouldn't be mad. Facts of the universe that neither of them could voice. In shame, I look away, at a shoe sitting in the darkness of the cave, near where I was pacing. It's brown, a leather boot, with scuffed fronts and darker laces.

"Thank you, Jude. For saving me."

In surprise, he looks back at her, not expecting a thank-you. People don't thank him, they're too used to him being there all the time, not even thinking about what he does anymore, just expecting that he'll be there to do it. He can't think of what she's talking about now. He has saved her before, from scraped knees, and bee stings, but nothing life threatening, not since she was four. he was eight and they had been playing hide and seek. The tight ache of worry that had already begun to manifest freezing his insides. The coldness of the water when he had jumped off the dock, desperate to save the girl who looked like a fairy princess, and now looked a lot like a young queen. that was another instant where he got to know her, because she couldn't swim. He knew that about her when she was four, but he knew that was an altogether different thing now. A Libertine that couldn't swim wasn't a Libertine, not in the proper sense.

"You're welcome," he says, almost with a hint of discomfort. He's not used to 'your welcomes' or hinted 'thank-yous', he doesn't think he deserves them. "I'd never let you drown," he ads quietly. Unconsciously, he picks up the piece of chalk once again and begins sketching a girl with pump lips, and long hair. She's bare foot, and standing in the mouth of a cave, but even though her expression is neutral, the picture screams of heartache. Once finished with the girl, getting her right even down to her last freckle, he moves on to other things, like flowers and birds. he can't just sit there wand wait for the voice again, because he's afraid of it. Abruptly, he says to her, "I come here a lot too. Just to get away. And to er.....hide....I could leave though."

And you, you're always holding onto stars
I think they're better from afar
No one is going to save us
And me, well I am fading in the dark
So don't you ever kiss me, don't you wish on me