Harper
I've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel
It's all that I can give to you, my dear
It's all that I can give to you, my dear
Harper is often unaccustomed to the way the courtesans defer and politely wait on their clients, so he is already a few paces into the room as it melts and changes around him before he is gesturing Thorn forward from within. He'd appreciated it in the early days, but now he feels dried up and numb, wanting only to skip past the niceties and satisfy the only remaining ache of loneliness as swiftly as possible.
The look on Thorn's face however, no matter how fleeting, still stirs something in Harper's chest. It may bring him a bittersweet sort of pain to see this, but Thorn's awe - genuine awe, no matter how brief - reminds him of past privileges, and the privilege of having these memories to sustain him.
He's admittedly a little stunned to have the question repeated, and he joins Thorn at the window to look out over the sunrise as he considers how honest he should be. It's not an issue of confidentiality, but whether it would be positive or negative for him to hear that old title on someone else's lips. "Bluejay," he requests quietly from behind Thorn's shoulder, and tries not to linger on how it feels to say it for the first time since coming to Caido. Moving toward the bed, he sits on it, hands bunching up the silk behind him as he reclines; he might not be accustomed to slowness these days, but if Thorn has a mind for stories, Harper has no other appointments on his calendar. The courtesan can either ask him more questions, or he can join him on the bed. Harper doesn't care enough to have a preference.
The look on Thorn's face however, no matter how fleeting, still stirs something in Harper's chest. It may bring him a bittersweet sort of pain to see this, but Thorn's awe - genuine awe, no matter how brief - reminds him of past privileges, and the privilege of having these memories to sustain him.
He's admittedly a little stunned to have the question repeated, and he joins Thorn at the window to look out over the sunrise as he considers how honest he should be. It's not an issue of confidentiality, but whether it would be positive or negative for him to hear that old title on someone else's lips. "Bluejay," he requests quietly from behind Thorn's shoulder, and tries not to linger on how it feels to say it for the first time since coming to Caido. Moving toward the bed, he sits on it, hands bunching up the silk behind him as he reclines; he might not be accustomed to slowness these days, but if Thorn has a mind for stories, Harper has no other appointments on his calendar. The courtesan can either ask him more questions, or he can join him on the bed. Harper doesn't care enough to have a preference.
I know you mean well, But I'm not a vessel for your good intent
My teeth will only cut your lips, my dear
My teeth will only cut your lips, my dear
