Her heart is absolutely overwhelmed. Magnus’ eyes spell out years and years of wisdom and concern, yet she cannot find it within herself to face those memories. It seems that lately her reminders of the girl she once was are daily. A specific recollection always comes to mind: the day her whiskey-voiced friend charmed her honey-tongue into silence, the day Tephra took her breath away. It is much more to her than when Cosmos was conceived or any fleeting moment of parenthood they shared - it is an unequivocal point of creation.
“Magnus,” she sighs on his name, half-hearted smile so sad on her mouth. “I am glad to hear you have been busy - better than miserable.” Jude would be sheepish if she was not a bit prideful; instead, the melancholy is an echoing bell in her gaze. The years of solitude and near-betrayal weigh heavy on her shoulders, though she cannot find it within herself to place the blame on anyone else. Her actions are her own - she must claim responsibility.
“Oh, ya know, my pink blends in with the brilliance of our tropical flowers,” she responds, a tiny glimmer of a grin on her face, “I’m sure ya saw me and just thought I was another bush.” Her laugh is a mild lyric in the air, though she cannot hide the gentle hollowness beneath. For the life of her, she cannot hide it from Magnus, no matter how desperately she wishes she could. He has always been dear to her; he deserves her sincerity.
“Forgive me, darlin’, I just have not been feelin’ like myself these days.” It is a quiet and sudden admittance, an apology she offers for being so on edge with someone she trusts. “I forget, for just minutes at a time, the weight life has delivered me,” her smile is small when she continues, “it was nice to forget a while with you.” Jude cannot repress her next sigh, lavender eyes somber. “Our daughter, Magnus. Cosmos. I haven’t seen her in years.”
@[magnus]