Harper
I see what lies heavy on your heart
Word travels fast about demigods, but it’s still strange to see Hadama approach on human legs while the sun is still in the sky. Admittedly it’s the only change he can truly note in the man despite the years that have passed. In contrast, Harper’s tan skin has gone pale and his hair is longer than he would normally allow it to get. The only promising sign of health is his continued musculature, but the new lines in his face take away from that hope just as swiftly.
The immediate denial has Harper smiling wistfully. Not unexpected, but in his eyes undeserved. Hadama’s understanding is not something he’s managed to replicate in himself for his own behavior.
“Not as well as I had hoped. For a time, I thought I was finally living for myself and figuring out who I was without expectations or duties to shape my identity around. It was the only kind of life I’d ever lived before.” Looking out at the sun as it creeps slowly through the sky, turning red as it threatens a sunset within the hour, Harper smiles without feeling behind it. “Swore off love and tried to find comfort in physicality. I missed being touched in any and every way.” The firm grip of a friendly hand or a brusque hug, gentle fingers through hair from a mentor or parent, idle kisses from a lover, all of it had been lost. “The only good that really came was reconnecting with Maea. But I don’t think either of us can fix the other. Or ourselves.” He’d hoped, of course. Against all logic, history, and better sense. Harper’s heart has never known how to stop piecing itself back together to try and beat for someone else just one more time.
“I tried to mend things with Jude after he got hurt during the impact and I wasn’t there. It wasn’t enough - but it wasn’t nothing.” He writes his son every season, but there’s more empty space on the page than words most times. At least he never forgets to say I love you. “I lost my faith in Safrin. I lost sight of myself when I thought I was finding it. And what was a rebellion of indulgence is now the only comfort I wake up for, same as any other crutch.” His downfall had not been so grand as others, far more private and uninteresting, but in his own eyes there is nothing left but ashes.
“I’m hoping you’ll give this to Jude for me. That’s why I called you here.” One scarred hand settles on top of the box, but his eyes are pained and distant on the horizon. “I need to pursue an impossibly small chance at the only thing I think can help. But if it doesn’t work…one way or another I’m not going to be around, and he deserves as much closure as I can give him.” Something clearer than the one-sided awareness earlier in the week when he’d shown up only to hug his boy tight and tell him he loved him. A goodbye only Harper had heard.
- - -
Harper gives all items in his profile to Hadama, to be given (or not!) to Jude.
The immediate denial has Harper smiling wistfully. Not unexpected, but in his eyes undeserved. Hadama’s understanding is not something he’s managed to replicate in himself for his own behavior.
“Not as well as I had hoped. For a time, I thought I was finally living for myself and figuring out who I was without expectations or duties to shape my identity around. It was the only kind of life I’d ever lived before.” Looking out at the sun as it creeps slowly through the sky, turning red as it threatens a sunset within the hour, Harper smiles without feeling behind it. “Swore off love and tried to find comfort in physicality. I missed being touched in any and every way.” The firm grip of a friendly hand or a brusque hug, gentle fingers through hair from a mentor or parent, idle kisses from a lover, all of it had been lost. “The only good that really came was reconnecting with Maea. But I don’t think either of us can fix the other. Or ourselves.” He’d hoped, of course. Against all logic, history, and better sense. Harper’s heart has never known how to stop piecing itself back together to try and beat for someone else just one more time.
“I tried to mend things with Jude after he got hurt during the impact and I wasn’t there. It wasn’t enough - but it wasn’t nothing.” He writes his son every season, but there’s more empty space on the page than words most times. At least he never forgets to say I love you. “I lost my faith in Safrin. I lost sight of myself when I thought I was finding it. And what was a rebellion of indulgence is now the only comfort I wake up for, same as any other crutch.” His downfall had not been so grand as others, far more private and uninteresting, but in his own eyes there is nothing left but ashes.
“I’m hoping you’ll give this to Jude for me. That’s why I called you here.” One scarred hand settles on top of the box, but his eyes are pained and distant on the horizon. “I need to pursue an impossibly small chance at the only thing I think can help. But if it doesn’t work…one way or another I’m not going to be around, and he deserves as much closure as I can give him.” Something clearer than the one-sided awareness earlier in the week when he’d shown up only to hug his boy tight and tell him he loved him. A goodbye only Harper had heard.
- - -
Harper gives all items in his profile to Hadama, to be given (or not!) to Jude.
and the strength you still keep inside
