Title: Rouge, Aqua and Shroud
Summary: Illuminating, glorious or terrible; speak of a hundred different things. Brotherly Judah & Benjamin.
Disclaimer: Duh.
Warning: The end drabble is dark and the first drabble has images of an uncomfortable subject.
Dedication: To the people who made the movie, of course.
See, now, I said I would come back to this section; I just needed inspiration to do it. And a plot-bunny found itself in my head the other day, so here I am.
-:-
Prompt: List the top ten experiences of life—top meaning significant. Wondrous. Glorious. Terrible. Illuminating. Demoralizing.
-The Idea Book.
-:-
Find yourself a cup of tea; the teapot is behind you. Now tell me about hundreds of things.
~Saki.
Red.
The screaming was different up close. Back when Rachel had Joseph, none of the boys had been allowed in with the mother and the midwife, but they were granted this opportunity because the elderly woman was having trouble helping Jacob's second wife through her second birthing procedure. Outside the tent, years ago, it was just like it had been for over a thousand years and a thousand years before that; a vague idea in the back of the mind that this event that happened all over the world must really hurt to make sounds like that every few seconds.
Up close and in the thick of it, his hands tight on the back and front of one of Rachel's knees to keep it suspended near her head while the midwife actually reached in (he isn't ashamed to admit that he threw up his dinner from earlier at the sight of so much blood and clear fluid and something that smelled like a mixture of bile and shit coming out of Rachel through one hole he was aware existed and another that was being stretched horribly by what must have been the baby trying to get out; it looked a bit like a fuzzy ball moving through the mouth of a cat with nothing but gums) her hand to reposition and move the baby's head, Judah realized that he was never so thankful that he was a man.
Blue.
"You know… Joseph did that when he was a little older than you are now."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Judah sighed for reasons Benjamin knew not to question by the time he was five, he certainly wouldn't ask about it now that he was seven and knew how to read Judah's moods more and better than the rest of their brothers; he just focused his eyes upwards at the way Judah bent over him to get a good look at the long line Benjamin had etched into the ground from the side of their water well and over to the grain field, "You see these older treads right there? Those were Joseph's idea. It hurt father to see them after… So we had to cover them up and do it the old fashioned way."
"He won't make me cover these up, will he?"
Judah was quiet, thinking the answer over, before bowing further down towards his little brother before bumping their foreheads together, a light smile showing through his usual responsible and solemn manner, "If he tries then I'll convince him not to. And if he does cover them up, I'll come back the next hour and uncover them. If God wants this to happen with you—sooner than it happened with Joseph—then it's meant to be."
"Really?"
To answer his little brother in as much the positive as possible, Judah leaned over the well and pulled up a rather large boulder from the top of what kept the water held back. The fluid rushed out like a living entity released from eternal confines, through the path Benjamin had carved in the land, and then into the field within the timing of five seconds.
Benjamin stepped back as Judah set the stone down, but then came closer and hugged his brother's (the tallest man he had ever met, as well as the most compassionate and loyal and loving; even more than their father) leg with such force that it sent a tiny tremor up Judah's spine and basically forced the giant of a man to bend and pat the boy on the top of the head. His fingers spread through hair that was slightly damp from sweat.
Black.
The family of Jacob was well known and well respected and, foolishly, that knowledge made most of the boys believe that they would be safe through most things in their lives. Even if Jacob's sons had done a terrible thing to their youngest brother a long time ago, the title of being the sons of one of the oldest and wisest men of Canaan made them feel safe.
Judah had known, when he was still a teenager and only taking care of a few younger siblings, that a title did not dictate protection. He'd once been attacked by brigands that wanted to steal the family's sheep and he'd been wounded in the shoulder; it could have been even worse if their father hadn't come and saved him when it happened.
Experiencing what he had when he was so young, he should have been more vigilant with Benjamin.
(Blood was soaked into the ebony cloak he'd torn off of the slave trader-bandit-brigand, whatever he had been Judah hadn't cared, because of the knife he'd slammed in to the man that had forced him off of Benjamin and fleeing into the night on the camel he'd had tied up outside of the small cave in the canyon Judah never went to and told Benjamin not to go anywhere near either. Judah didn't care about that, though; he only cared about his brother in his arms, weeping into the clothing of his brother, shaking hard and fast as Judah tried to run with Benjamin's weight without falling down and hurting the small teen more than he already was hurting.)