salvation à la mode

Jefferson Soul · 07-14-2010, 09:31 AM

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It looked for a moment that she believed his feigned stupidity, that she actually thought him to be so thoughtless to forget that Jordan was long gone and dead, his cold bones buried somewhere beneath the earth and never again to rise and father children with her. It was a low blow, he realized, and yet the one-eyed brute felt no shame. Jefferson squared his shoulders, then noticing the exhausted stiffness in his muscles. He was in no mood, no condition for arguments; the cyclops had raged a war in his own mind, reminiscent of the old days when he had done so constantly, but perhaps for once he was losing his own war. The world around him had only shifted slightly, but enough to put the beast in a place that never stopped spinning.

His ears flicked. We didn't lose them all in the fall. How was that possible? Jefferson had convinced himself he was not properly fit to be a parent; there was no reason any terribly merciful gods above them would decide otherwise, would feel it amusing enough to drop a child into his incapable arms. Geneva openly admitted to the distance that had developed between she and the scarred man, but still Jefferson said nothing; his green eye, emotionless, fell upon the gray-furred child.

It seemed like ages before he could muster words. "He has blue eyes," Jefferson grunted, his voice still gravelly and unfeeling. He hardly seemed able to accept these news, as sudden as they were. Then, slowly, he turned his eye to her again. "Why did you wait?"

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