you have survived every moment of your life
even the ones you swore you wouldn't
Sunjata's calm is exactly what he aims it to be - a life preserver that Harper latches onto in his slight haze, bond easing open wider than he otherwise might have let it as he grasps onto that feeling with both hands. Harper admittedly expects the conversation to end at 'I'm sorry', given how many times it has in the past. Hadama never pushes him, always lets Harper find him on his own time, share what he needs to - but Harper is not the type of man to burden others, certainly not willingly. He moves to apologize for having dumped so much on the table all at once, perhaps even blame the alcohol, when Sunjata goes on.
Frowning heavily, emoting even more freely with the liquor in his veins, Harper's head shakes just a fraction. "What? For what reason? Safrin didn't seem to have any thoughts on who lead when I told her I was voted in so long as the region itself remained faithful to her." Right now he can't even remember if it had been Sunjata or Maeve who had sworn Torchline to her, so long has it been under her name in his eyes. Still, no matter his confusion and instinctive desire to defend Safrin, Harper is a tactile man. The reminder of Sunjata's isolation after Nate's death has him reaching across the table to grip the Flood's forearm with surprising strength for an intoxicated man, empathy and companionship drowning the bond with overwhelming sincerity.
"I lost the love of my life to war before I was brought to Caido. She died in my arms." He'd been useless, incapable of saving her even when she was right there. "When I heard about Nate...I wanted to reach out. I just wasn't sure if it would be offensive, coming from me." A man whom Sunjata was frankly not nearly as close with as others. A man who had lost next to nothing in Caido's war. "I'm sorry. Truly. Nate was an amazing person." Someone Harper had met frequently, but who had always seemed more like a flash of sunlight he couldn't catch in his hands than anything tangible, touchable.
Stunned anew when Sunjata asks him what he's looking for, Harper retrieves his hand and glances down, only now realizing the bartender had dropped off an entire pitcher of water. "Well...neither, I guess. I really did just come because I missed you." Which sounds almost childish even to his own ears, making him wince. "But compartmentalizing has never really worked for me." Too reliant on emotions, both good and bad, to force himself to go numb or overly logical. "So if you have any advice...?" Harper looks up, eyes a little glassy but still clearly, painfully hopeful. Desperate.
Frowning heavily, emoting even more freely with the liquor in his veins, Harper's head shakes just a fraction. "What? For what reason? Safrin didn't seem to have any thoughts on who lead when I told her I was voted in so long as the region itself remained faithful to her." Right now he can't even remember if it had been Sunjata or Maeve who had sworn Torchline to her, so long has it been under her name in his eyes. Still, no matter his confusion and instinctive desire to defend Safrin, Harper is a tactile man. The reminder of Sunjata's isolation after Nate's death has him reaching across the table to grip the Flood's forearm with surprising strength for an intoxicated man, empathy and companionship drowning the bond with overwhelming sincerity.
"I lost the love of my life to war before I was brought to Caido. She died in my arms." He'd been useless, incapable of saving her even when she was right there. "When I heard about Nate...I wanted to reach out. I just wasn't sure if it would be offensive, coming from me." A man whom Sunjata was frankly not nearly as close with as others. A man who had lost next to nothing in Caido's war. "I'm sorry. Truly. Nate was an amazing person." Someone Harper had met frequently, but who had always seemed more like a flash of sunlight he couldn't catch in his hands than anything tangible, touchable.
Stunned anew when Sunjata asks him what he's looking for, Harper retrieves his hand and glances down, only now realizing the bartender had dropped off an entire pitcher of water. "Well...neither, I guess. I really did just come because I missed you." Which sounds almost childish even to his own ears, making him wince. "But compartmentalizing has never really worked for me." Too reliant on emotions, both good and bad, to force himself to go numb or overly logical. "So if you have any advice...?" Harper looks up, eyes a little glassy but still clearly, painfully hopeful. Desperate.
this time is no different
you will last
