Re: oli + jude: house in the wooods
[Jude liked temples. Nothing to do with the edifice of religion, please and thank you, the boy was sacrilegious and he'd piled up sin upon sin in blithe assumption that there was nothing after end of days. But oh, trappings of religion he liked very much. Clean belief in others, the investiture of faith in things and places, the communing with whatever greater thing lay beyond reach - Jude had no knack for prayer and ritual, he was blind in acolyte's way but he admired places that were near spiritual and the people within them terribly much. But this was no longer temple or church. There was paper and paint and bare floorboards and nothing left of principle and promise, a tiny lighthouse for a man roving to find home worthy of roots. Jude rubbed the skin under his eye with the side of his thumb, and thought about fast cars and expensive hotels, women in puddled silk.]
No, sunshine. It just used to be one of those places. [His hand was warm and it wrapped around Oliver's artist-fingers with calm assurance that Jude felt not one bit on the inward, but not a skimp of a glance at what lay within carapace, please and thank you. Jude was artisan in a con and he displayed his best work to brother in the cleave of the art-store.] Where's that? I'm ever at your service, brother-mine, you just say the word and we'll go the off.