#leenukeath

Things had been tentative when they were all getting used to the Avenger, but now that they were a few months in? His  whole congregation had eased into life on this mobile ship of theirs, and their fears had  relaxed when it was shown  that he, himself, was doing alright.

The atmosphere, to him, was far more comforting than the one that hung in the air at his Stronghold... especially in the month or so leading  up to Eliza taking him in. The air was clear, here, and  there was no looming threat of violence if he didn’t meet expectations. Eliza had made that very clear.

So, he was entirely free to be more of a present force amongst his followers. At the  moment, he was currently looking over the finished results of his brother’s impromptu art session. Curiously, Odette had joined--Jax hadn’t thought her one to draw close to his brother after everything. He moved from another Mystic’s painting to hers, her scooting aside with her seat to give him a better look.

Odette was one of the more natural painters among the Mystics, and it showed in her skill. Her paintings usually made very good use of rosy light and softer edges--the few darker shadows that did happen seeming to vanish even on the page. He was used to her usual style of art...

... so this was very different. Mordenna had ample lighting on him when he was sat on his table, but here he was cast in darkness. He had been relaxed in his pose, but here, there was a tenseness to his  features, as if he was ready to leap out of the painting at any moment. Odette had been sitting at  an angle to him--nearer his head  as he stared directly ahead, but here his eyes were locked directly with the viewer’s. His mouth was absent, but by the microexpressions of his facial features, Jax could tell there was a hint of something underneath. Malice? Aggression? It seemed deliberately open to interpretation.

He looked to Odette, who was steadfastly looking away. This was certainly a very different take on his brother--but one he fully understood. This was a glimpse of a Mordenna of old, a being of manifested spite and whim. He didn’t blame  Odette for still being afraid of him, but for her to brave her fears and express them on canvas? There was a courage to that. Mordenna had left without looking at any of the finished results, confident that they all had done their bests. But if he’d gotten a glimpse of this one...

Jax kneeled, taking one of Odette’s hands. “Odette,” he began, voice soft, “your art is as brilliant as it always is. There is much merit in different interpretation, and you have clearly proven that.”

Odette swallowed, finally meeting his gaze. “B-but... we are all reconciled with the Hunter, are we not...? Is... isn’t it childish of me to still hold my fear?”

Jax shook his head, bringing her hand to his lips and giving it a reassuring kiss. “With your circumstances, and with my brother’s nature, it is completely understandable to still hold the feelings you do. I wish, one day, to help you and him resolve this conflict between the two of you But you are doing just fine, Odette. Do not mistake this.”

Odette let go of a tense breath, shallowly nodding. “Ok. I... I want to see things repaired between us, as well. I trust you, Holy Father.”