IC contact

[thirtybits]

"This is Judah's voicemail, no need to leave your number, I'll reply as soon as I can."



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[thirtybits]

Heh. Well, you know how it is.

[It's said lightly, but with the thought of Dorian's own suicidal tendencies in mind. Seeing that, he suddenly knows how others feel about him.]

[depicted]

I do. [Dorian thinks of sunrises, and he sighs and grips Judas's hand a little tighter.] Don't worry. Can't get any worse as long as we don't believe it has gotten better.

[thirtybits]

It would be pretty difficult to get any worse, anyway. At least we can understand eachother. It doesn't make it better, but, for me, it helps.

[He squeezes Dorian's hand.]

[depicted]

For me too. [he thinks about jumping—not to die, just to make sure they get the meat before some wild animal does. But he is comfortable here, with his hand in Judas's, wrapped in ancient cloth and resting on long-dead bones. He doesn't feel like moving.]

[thirtybits]

[It's good he doesn't. Right now, Judas would be terribly disappointed. Although he wouldn't, or couldn't, voice it.] ...Really? I'm glad. I...really want to be able to help.

[depicted]

Really. [He raises Judas's hand to his lips for a brief touch of lips, then lets it fall with his.] Thank you. For being born. For everything.

[thirtybits]

[He tenses, biting his lip. 'It would be better if you had never been born', words from the mouth of the Son of God. And yet, now Judas is being thanked for it. He doesn't know how to take that. For a long while he's silent, staring down at their hands as his head shifts downwards.]

...Thank you.