Here's a riddle for you

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Her mouth twitched as she watched him eat, laughter breaking free in a quiet giggle. "Glad you like it. Apples and sweetgrass were the only real treats we had when I grew up. Sugar didn't exist and even honey was a rarity." The scent was nostalgic. The way sunlight dappled the ground, colored green by the canopy too; it all left her feeling a touch wistful.

The offered apple gave her pause. Maybe it was nothing, to eat from the same fruit he'd already bitten into. But then again, maybe it wasn't very different from the way teenagers passed a bottle of cider back and forth, blushing and giggling over the imagined taste of each other's lips. A bit silly, a bit sweet. Maea leaned in and trusted Harper to keep the apple still for her as she took a bite. Her fangs sliced cleanly through the fruit, leaving her smiling and looking everywhere except at Harper while she chewed.

"It's sweeter than I remember," she admitted around the mouthful. "The trees look healthier too. It was never this lush..." Without the barrier, nature was able to breathe again. Growing stronger, greener, more nutritious; it was hard to imagine that this place had been all but infertile.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Harper knows he can't even begin to understand that sort of fate, but it twinges at his heart all the same. "Do you prefer sweets now you have access to them, or is it too overbearing?" He finds himself genuinely curious. He wants to know these things - know her. The little things that set her apart, that nobody would ever notice beyond a passing observation that she reaches for or skips over a particular plate in a restaurant. Equally, he knows how dangerous that desire is.

It's difficult to contend with while simultaneously hand-feeding her, but Harper is nothing if not defined by his self-control. He looks out over the orchard when she trails off, humming. "I thought I'd live here forever until Frey told Phoebe to move to Torchline and I went with her. I always wondered if Rae could have helped the soil, or if greenhouses could be built..." and while he'd never pursued leadership - never had in general, given he'd ended up a councilman by request each time - Harper had always hoped it might be a goal someday. But there'd been war, exploration, and an exodus of people running as far from the prison they'd known within the barrier. Eventually, it didn't matter. "I guess it fixed itself in the end. Kinda sad, but also admirable."

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

"I like them a lot," she told him with an impish smile. "We have that in common." A notion that both excited and troubled her; not because it was an issue, but because she wasn't supposed to be searching for things to connect them. A bit late, given the way their hands remained clasped together and the fresh sweetness of apple juice on her tongue, but all the same... There was really no helping the way her gaze kept turning back to him. Maea studied his profile while Harper spoke, wondering at his willingness to shape his life according to the wishes of those around him. Thought of what he had told her about his life, and how he - like herself - was unable to grasp what he really wanted.

"What do you think of this place now?" she asked. "I can't make up my mind if I love it or hate it... Every once in a while I get this... itch under the skin. Like I need to move or I'll go crazy, or like I can't get enough air into my lungs. It's partly why I travel so much."

Squeezing Harper's hand, she let go and hunched down to sort out the apples around their feet. Tossing aside the rotten or worm-eaten ones, the rest were bundled up in a fold of her shirt; a treasure of waxy, dew-laden fruit that once had been the difference between living and dying. Funny, how priorities changed.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Harper grins in return, pleased to find a kindred spirit. He'd been teased constantly by the merchants in Torchline about his waistline, but they all knew he ran and trained every day, so he'd happily show off for his treats whenever he got the chance. It makes his heart ache momentarily for Torchline, but he shoves that down, down, down. Just as he does the comparisons between them.

He isn't expecting her question, or the way it brings him back to himself; back to the lingering sweetness on his lips, which he chases with another bite as he considers his answer. "It's hard to love something that has changed to the point of being unrecognizable," he murmurs, the depths of it plucking at his insides. "Hard not to compare it to what you knew. To ask it for things it can't give." He turns his eyes back to her so he doesn't lose himself out there on the horizon, and his smile is sad. "But why should it stop changing out of courtesy for me? I just have to learn to see it the way it is now. Love it for what it does offer. And I think I'm getting there, the more I visit." And maybe that's easier for Harper, who wasn't born and raised here, trapped here, but at least it's the truth.

"I ran away from Torchline and never stopped running. Travel helps, but there's something healing about having somewhere to return to. Familiarity. Roots." He says it mostly for her, because Harper has bleached and burned all his edges so they can never form roots again. He can't bear the pain they come with, even though he is meant for them. Kneeling beside her, he helps to pick at the best fruit on the ground and slides them gently into the fold of her shirt until it's nearly overflowing. He holds the last one in his hand to replace the one they'd mutilated in a few short bites and discards the core for the bees and birds. "But that's just me. It hurts - constantly - to not have a place to call home for me. But I'm trying to change my own head, learn to like the nomadic life. Our natures and our goals do best when aligned, but they don't always have to be."

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Damp, slightly sticky apples weighed down her shirt. They were heavy in her lap, yet it wasn't burdensome enough for her to drop and give up on. Why she collected them, Maea wasn't entirely clear over. Habit, perhaps, ingrained into her spine after growing up with the creed of never wasting food. And if nothing else, they made excellent projectiles.

There was no one here deserving of punishment, though. Only two friends with too much baggage, desperately trying to forge new paths for themselves. Whether those wound up crossing, running parallel or veering off in wildly different directions... was too early to tell.

"You can always come stay for a while, if you get tired of roaming," Maea offered, trailing the apple in Harper's hand and contemplating whether to steal another bite or let him keep the prize for himself. "I know it's not the same thing as a proper home of your own, but... you'd be welcome."

Picking wilted grass off her hoard, Maea tried not to read into what he was saying too much. It made her ache for him, to see the sadness in his eyes. She knew the feeling of being rootless; hell, she still was. Just because this was where she had grown up didn't mean she knew it anymore, or even if she really wanted to stay. She had promised herself to try, to give both the Grounds and the Ancients a fair chance - the one she never gave the Ascended - but beyond familiarity... she didn't know if this was where she would remain.

"Is there anything I could do for you?" she asked, looking up suddenly. "Is there anything you need, or want, or... I'm on the council here, now. Pretty sure I could make almost anything happen." He would only have to say the word.

maea

code by sky

Harper

It's an unexpected offer, given how she'd spoken of the Grounds herself. "Would you even be around to visit?" The lopsided angle of his grin makes it clear he's teasing, but he wonders all the same. These paths they're taking - even if they desire the same thing with their hearts, would it match their goals? Looking down at the apples that hadn't met Maea's standards, his smile dwindles into a wisp of a thing. "Thank you. I'd like that." And even if the timing is never right, isn't what matters the offer?

The same offer that she makes, and he looks back at her quietly. "I feel like you've given enough to people who didn't deserve it," he murmurs. "I don't want to be another." And he's certain, despite her assured protestations, that he is not any more deserving. Everything he has lost was forsaken by his own actions. "I don't even know what I want. I left Torchline to live by my desires instead of my responsibilities, and I don't think I found it." But he'd been miserable before that, too. So would getting any of it back matter? He'd left on a path of self-discovery and all he has to show for it is a dirty mirror reflecting something two-dimensional and unfamiliar.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Spoken in jest or not, it was a valid question. Maea considered it even as she listened to the rest of his reservations, wondering what he saw when he looked at her like that. With her arms full of apples she couldn't reach out to him, though she kind of wanted to, and it seemed awfully forward to just speak her mind.

But she did anyway.

"I could be," she responded quietly. "I haven't had much reason to stay in one place, and people rarely seek me out. Usually I have to move myself if I want to be around others. But I could stay... If that is something you would like." She had never tried being a place for someone to return to. It had never been asked of her, nor had she met anyone whom she wanted to wait for. Except - except maybe this man, right here. At the very least, she wanted a chance to get to know him. For real, little by little, in the small, insignificant ways that were all that really mattered.

"I don't think it's about deserving anything. I just.. like being around you. It feels good. And I want you to feel good, too. Be happy. That's all there is to it." Scratching at a spot on her cheek, embarrassed to be speaking so plainly, she wondered if she was saying too much. "The way I see it... if we don't know what we want to do, or be, then doesn't it mean we can go anywhere? Do anything? I've never been an ambassador before... maybe I'll end up liking it. Maybe I won't. Until I find out... all I can really do is give it my all, until I find the answer."

It wasn't easy. It was difficult and uncomfortable to do something unfamiliar. It was scary and painful to expose herself to things that had once caused her harm. But just like the land around them had changed, so did she have to try and change. Or she would find herself left behind, over and over again.

"But if you don't want to... I don't know... try? That's okay too. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." That would be the same as putting him in a cage, and would defeat the whole point of being enough.  And her heart could hammer away as much as it wanted; her half-defined hopes and wishes would simply have to accept whatever outcome. It wasn't like she was even asking for anything.

Honestly, Maea wasn't sure what she was doing. Reaching out? Opening doors? She just wanted Harper to look less miserable and prayed this wasn't just making things worse.

maea

code by sky

Harper

He turns to her fully, mind utterly hers for the moment instead of somewhere out there, in a different time and place. "How is that not a cage? How do I know I'm not asking something of you that you only think you want because of affection?" And though she can't reach for him, he can. He kneels in front of her, and reaches a hand to wrap around her forearm, sincerity bleeding from every pore. "I'll come because I want to see you. And I'll hope to see you when I knock on your door. But unless you want to try too, I don't want you to do it for me. Because I care for you." And in caring for her, he wants to protect her. Even if that means from himself and his expectations. He doesn't think he would manipulate her in any way, but he knows the lengths he's willing to go for someone he cares about, and if she's anything like him then maybe that isn't a good thing when they're as fragile as they are.

"I like being around you too, Maea. That's why I'll come back. I'm sorry if what I said sounded too much like an expectation - it was, and that wasn't fair." His eyes are sad when he looks at her and he knows it but it would be disingenuous to try and hide it. "I think I want to put down roots of my own again, but it's the coward's way out to hope that you will instead, so that I can visit you and feel like your home is mine. I just don't know how to start over anymore." Harper bites his lip, eyes finally falling to the apples in her lap when he can't hold her gaze anymore.

"You asked what I wanted, but it's all so formless to me. I want to do better by my sons, but I've broken their trust. I want to feel less conflicted about my goddess, but I've heard too much to be certain of my faith. I want to have a home again, but I don't know where it should be." Torchline would be torturous, but it's the longest home he's had since falling into Caido. But would it be too easy to fall into who he used to be? The same rut he'd finally fled from? "I want - I want to love, and be loved in return to the level I deserve. And I hate myself for that. I thought I could train myself to sleep around and let it fulfill me, but it isn't working." He cuts himself off, fearing he's said too much, and shakes his overlong hair with a sigh. "I don't know how you can help me with any of that. And I don't know what to try, what new thing to experience, that can help either."

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Traitorous lips betrayed the fluttery lightness that settled in her chest when Harper said he liked being with her. A small smile slipped past her defenses, light as the day around them, and color crept back into her cheeks. Dangerous, that feeling. It whispered to her that perhaps her affections had grown more than she'd realized, that it was already too late to pretend like this conversation was only hypothetical.

A red-streaked fruit toppled from the pile and rolled off into the grass. Maea shifted, Harper's hand on her arm an anchor that kept her listening without interrupting. They had always been good at that, hadn't they? Listening. Sharing the space with equal willingness to hear the other person out. Pale lavender eyes met with his blue without flinching, and kept roaming his face long after Harper looked away.

"... what if I wanted to try?" Dislike of the word aside, it was the only term that really worked, as a general word that encompassed so much and so little at the same time. Frought with implications, the way they used it to paint pictures of a hazy future together. "I know I can't solve all your problems. I could keep you company, though, while you figure things out. And share what I have until you know what you want. I don't think it's cowardly to lean on others from time to time - or let yourself be cared for when you are feeling lost."

Letting the apples roll from her shirt back onto the ground, Maea reached out a hand to brush dark curls from Harper's eyes. They may be sad, and worried, but she wanted to see them anyway. Her fingers were cold. Harper's hair was soft; she could easily spend the rest of the day just combing her fingers through it, if he let her.

"When it comes to knowing whether I'd be caged or not... I suppose you would have to trust me. And believe that I know myself enough not to agree to something that make me unhappy. If it ever came to that... I would tell you. Just like I'd tell you if I ever needed to go somewhere, or do something." That held true even now, when their friendship was the only certain thing between them. It also answered a question he hadn't asked; because no matter how she twisted and turned it, she couldn't think of anything that would make her leave him behind without a word of explanation, if... well. If they ever found themselves in that kind of... relationship.

She really was saying too much.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Her stare is too fixating for him to retrieve the first apple that falls, and by the time she begins to speak he doesn't even actively notice the way the rest tumble free. This time, he waits, letting the riot of  half-truths and full honesty he's already spoken spin their way out looser and looser until it feels less convoluted in his head.

He has to take a slow, deep breath, but in the wake of it he's able to finally smile at her. "Company would be nice. I don't have much to give you in return except my own company, but maybe that's what we both need right now." And though neither of them can pretend they don't wonder and perhaps hope for more, maybe they both need to learn how to be devoted to another person in a less obsessive, all-or-nothing way. Maybe it will make planting roots seem less terrifying. Maybe they'll even learn to plant them wider and shallower, so that if they're ripped out it won't kill them both all over again.

His hands blindly find one of the apples on the ground, only briefly looking away to ensure it's a viable fruit before he reaches for one of her hands and wraps it around both his own fingers and the mottled red of the fruit. He clasps it there beneath his own, smiling at her in the soft, boyish way he'd forgotten how to use. "Trust and communication. Pretty obvious once we cut to the center of it, huh?" Harper's scarred fingers squeeze gently around hers before pulling away, leaving the apple in her hand alone. "I used to be good at both. Hopefully it won't take long to dust them off." He's willing to try, even if it's terrifying. He'll tell himself just friends, just friends like a mantra, so that he can re-learn how to trust someone without spiraling down the hole of maybes and what-ifs. This isn't him breaking his bitter vow to himself. Not yet. And until it actually happens, he can ignore it. Fix the other broken pieces before even looking at his heart.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Company was all she dared to ask for. More than she'd thought she even needed. To willingly offer it, to receive it, felt more precious than any golden trinket or charm anyone could have gifted her. "It's plenty," she assured him, too exalted by what felt like a win to know what to say. Smiling sweetly as he took her hands, Maea wondered what he was up to but let him have them. His hands were warm as they folded around hers, and around the apple; she regretted the moment he withdrew them, but raised the fruit to her lips and took a bite of it all the same. Beneath the bright red peel the flesh was crisp and white and so tart that it was almost painful - once the immediate tartness faded however, the taste was wonderfully refreshing.

Holding it out for him, she offered him a bite. Like he had done for her. It had the feel of a pact or a promise, written not in stone or in sand but in something far more fragile. "I believe in you. We'll figure it out, I'm sure of it." Big words. She meant it, though. It would be a challenge to keep her own happiness in mind while doing what she could to support him, because she knew her own tendency to offer the world and the moon to those she cared for... But he didn't want that, and she had suffered for doing that unbidden in the past.

So for now, all she could do was open up a space for them to share.

"I live in a cottage just outside the Settlement, with a friend," she shared, like it was a secret for only a select few to know. "Another ancient, Ophelia, found it and we've been fixing it up little by little over the past season. It's small, but cozy - there's even a guest room on the loft that I furnished. I don't mean to brag, but I think it's the nicest out of all the rooms." Hint hint wink wink.

maea

code by sky

Harper

He isn't sure he agrees given how lowly he views his company these days, but it's a sweet sentiment that makes him smile all the same. They're an odd pair - both profoundly intimate and ephemeral in nature given where life had taken Maea for so many years - but they make it work. He prays in the half-moment between her words that they'll be good for each other. Teach each other what they need to learn. Even if it never becomes anything else.

Chuckling, he leans in obligingly and takes a bite from the apple in her hand, feeling similarly about how pactlike it feels. The tartness is more his taste than hers even with their shared sweet tooth, but that makes it feel all the more meaningful. They've both indulged in the other's favorite now, emulating the balance and equality they tentatively reach for. "To figuring it out," he cheers around a cheekful of apple, smiling despite the bulge disrupting the normal angle of it.

Standing, he offers both hands to help her up as he swallows. "Why don't you show me where it is so I know where I'm going?" No need to enter or make himself at home, but enough to lend his feet a mental map when they draw him back to her, no matter the time or distance between today and the next time they meet.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say

With every broken bone, I swear I lived

Seeing his smile break through was just the icing on the cake. Feeling better than she had in a long time - lighter for the secrets she'd shared, and calmer with the renewed determination to be there for Harper, in whatever form - she accepted his help up.

"Of course. Let's bring some apples back, too. It'd be a shame to let them all go bad." She had nothing to carry them in, but stuffed her pockets with as many as would fit. Her coat had plenty of folds and secret compartments, and it swallowed a good handful before she had to resort to carrying them in her hands. Once she was done, she turned back to Harper with a cheeky grin.

"Now, what I really want to know is whether you can walk and juggle at the same time?" Lobbing him one fruit, then two, then three she wiggled her pale brows in a clear challenge.

maea

code by sky

Harper

Harper salutes lazily - though he's long been told that nobody understands it in this world, it's a cheeky habit that won't die - and begins picking up as many apples as he can carry. Given his nomadic nature he always carries a bag, but he has to fetch it from where he'd dropped it as they'd entered the orchard. It's not much more than Maea can hold given his personal items inside, but they're left with an impressive haul all the same.

A yelp startles out of him as she tosses the apples his way, catching them with swift hands and tucking the extras into the crook of his elbow. Wrinkling his nose at her for her impudence, he grins thereafter and spins around to walk backward while still facing her. "You think so little of my talents? I can do it backwards," he boasts, beginning to juggle them with impressive ease. The laugh that escapes him is far lighter now, and takes up more room unapologetically. It's a start.

I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments
you can't trust a thing I say