As a child, still a child, always a child, he was perpetually lost, a compass that never pointed North, a blind comet shooting through the dark and to nowhere in particular. He was archaic and ancient -- and incredibly naive in the matters of love and of the heart, for he spent his hours yearning for stardust and constellations, not the lightness of feeling he knew would be his downfall. Love had never settled into the nooks and crannies of his ribs, for from his mother it was misplaced, forced... absent. From his father... it was hard to feel loved by a man he'd never met. Byron was the one exception, and this was a brothers love, a twins love, as wholesome and pure as the sun burned. It did not set him afire from within, nor take control of his limbs as if physically inspired, nor did Byron sit on his mind all day every day - instead this love was a slow burning eternal creature full of compassion, understanding and fellowship.

The Throat, too, lacked in lustre what Jude saw in the night sky, and though he did find solace upon it's sandy shores, the ocean and the sky whispered to him of more, that there was new and exciting sights to behold past the barriers of his fiery home. He trod, now, with his usual regally melancholic step toward the centre of their thriving homeland with the desire to perhaps seek out his twin, Byron. His enigmatic brother would be the centre of attention, he was certain of it, and therefore would be found where the most activity happened. Yet Byron was nowhere to be found, leaving Jude once again with a sense of abandonment and a wistful, multicoloured gaze that lingered ever so briefly on the heatless, burning statue of Gaucho nearby. A sigh slipped from between his soft lips and he almost turned away to find solace once again - but something stayed his tread, nay, someone.

She was the colour of springtime, of vibrancy and energy, of light and laughter and happiness. Jude flushed instantly, melancholic eyes trailing after her as she made her dainty way toward the ever-burning fire. Almost without intending to, he followed. As she reached the flames, he paused, leaving a fair enough distance between them that he could leave without her ever knowing he had been there. He was a silent child, and could step without sand in their desert home. All he could hear was the softness of his breath and the crackle of the Sun God's fire. There was nothing on his mind but a vision of orange, entirely focused on the soft curve of a faint, awed smile upon her lips. He blinked, utterly lost. Knowing she was entranced by the flames afforded him time to settle the embers that had sprung to life in his belly, the nerves that twanged from one end of him to the other, the sudden longing that had taken him completely by surprise. Jude debated simply leaving, knowing that his life would be simpler if he did so - he wasn't entirely sure the burning in his blood was a good thing, he'd certainly never experienced it before, and he wasn't used to the vast lack of knowledge that now echoed in his youthful head.

He made to leave, lifting a hoof gently -

But he could not. And so he lowered his hoof and with a gentle blink, came to stand beside the girl that smelled like sweet orange and kaffir lime, and tried not to make it obvious that every breath he took was simply to smell that scent over and over again. "Have you ever seen the Sun God?" he asked, his voice a lilting, musical baritone that wavered with uncertainty.