Re: [misha & jude: the capital]
[Misha's question came over the ripple of music. The piano sang, better than Jude had ever been able to, even when small boy with treble rather than grown one with tenor. He was human as it came, 'praps more so than most in Repose and Jude's own struggles and trials and tribulations were terribly small, grand scheme of things. They weren't magic and gods and spirits any way other than in books and even a tangle with a vampire was temporary misfortune long since substituted with tea and apologies that needn't be said and a rift torn in between two people that had nothing to do with the supernatural really at all.
Misha was angelic or he was something that didn't follow precise lines of physics as read about in books, and Jude wasn't sure whether it mattered which side of the line Misha sat. It was a line as ephemeral as mist and the town appeared to sit on the middle of it and dabble fingers in the line as if it were water. Jude was as normal as it came on the regular and he mused over Misha's question.]
I don't think it's all folks. But I think you can find something in somebody you didn't know was there, or a crack that works itself into a split. It might not look big from the outside but it might be terribly big within. What's between people is built on things, sunshine. It doesn't need to go boom, it can erode away until you don't realize you're standing on something less solid.
[The music rippled, and Jude played and when he stopped he gave the side of the piano a fond pat and gave ground to the next person lurking to play. Lanky and shy, the newcomer wore round glasses and had untidy cuffs and played rollicking jazz that was a lot more suitable to venue rather than Jude's own mood. He watched briefly, the first sputter of notes under capable hands and he grinned in Misha's direction.]
I missed a piano that could sing like that dreadfully. A fiddle's easier to carry about with you.