HARPER
It's true, Harper scarcely notices their closeness at all as they peer in tandem down at the wrapped lines of the wound around his arm. Idly he smells the subtle scent of her shampoo as they bow their heads together, but even that is a passing thought, trained to spot and memorize identifying traits and characteristics more than appreciation or anything deeper. Maybe his lack of reaction or focus will help her in that way, but for now his own mind is utterly dedicated to the task of teaching.
As the birds are summoned Harper lifts his eyes to them, appraising and appreciative at once, a syrup-sweet slow smile forming on his lips. Seren's question prompts him moments later to turn to gaze out across the island once more, barely registering the discomfort of her work. "It's beautiful. Peaceful. But a little lonely, to me." Sad, almost. It reminds him of childhood stories, the island of lost toys. Trinkets and baubles, but nobody to share it with.
As the birds are summoned Harper lifts his eyes to them, appraising and appreciative at once, a syrup-sweet slow smile forming on his lips. Seren's question prompts him moments later to turn to gaze out across the island once more, barely registering the discomfort of her work. "It's beautiful. Peaceful. But a little lonely, to me." Sad, almost. It reminds him of childhood stories, the island of lost toys. Trinkets and baubles, but nobody to share it with.
if brokenness is a form of art
I must be a poster child prodigy
I must be a poster child prodigy
