Harper
I see what lies heavy on your heart
In another time, Hadama’s pain would be so moving that Harper would waver and abandon his path for the pursuit of mending that ache. It’s not that he cares less now - it’s that he cannot bear what caring means anymore. His shoulders cannot carry the burden of what the Tidebreaker asks of him.
Harper has one last hope, one final effort remaining within him. An idyllic eternity of oblivion in animal skin is the only respite he can envision for himself if that attempt fails.
The Stalwart tilts his face just enough to feel the brush of Hadama’s hand as it tucks his hair into place. Even now, tired and changed, Harper cannot stop craving this sort of connection. It’s a cruel constant. Nearly as cruel as the heartbreak that washes across the bond like a tide coming in too late.
“My only regret is that I can’t leave without causing pain. No matter how few, somehow people remain who still care.” He prays his sons count among them, but even if Hadama is the sole survivor of hearts and minds that look fondly upon Harper Quinn, then there is enough left to regret. “Wherever I go or what shape I take, in Caido or Mort’s realm, I will always be your friend.” Harper can’t say he’s scared of death, but it’s not his first choice or intent. Still, he knows what he has planned if he fails is the equivalent of that, and the least he can do is provide a vessel for Hadama to pour his anguish into.
“But if you have nothing to ask, I want to make use of our hours. I want to hear all you have to share - the little things, the happy things.” Like the updates on young whales Harper had named with gusto who must be grown and with pods of their own now, or the latest palace gossip far beneath the surface of the sea. Things that mean nothing and everything all at once.
Harper has one last hope, one final effort remaining within him. An idyllic eternity of oblivion in animal skin is the only respite he can envision for himself if that attempt fails.
The Stalwart tilts his face just enough to feel the brush of Hadama’s hand as it tucks his hair into place. Even now, tired and changed, Harper cannot stop craving this sort of connection. It’s a cruel constant. Nearly as cruel as the heartbreak that washes across the bond like a tide coming in too late.
“My only regret is that I can’t leave without causing pain. No matter how few, somehow people remain who still care.” He prays his sons count among them, but even if Hadama is the sole survivor of hearts and minds that look fondly upon Harper Quinn, then there is enough left to regret. “Wherever I go or what shape I take, in Caido or Mort’s realm, I will always be your friend.” Harper can’t say he’s scared of death, but it’s not his first choice or intent. Still, he knows what he has planned if he fails is the equivalent of that, and the least he can do is provide a vessel for Hadama to pour his anguish into.
“But if you have nothing to ask, I want to make use of our hours. I want to hear all you have to share - the little things, the happy things.” Like the updates on young whales Harper had named with gusto who must be grown and with pods of their own now, or the latest palace gossip far beneath the surface of the sea. Things that mean nothing and everything all at once.
and the strength you still keep inside
