HARPER
His first venture on the skyboats had been thrilling to say the least, an adequate distraction from what it was that had forced him to finally visit Stormbreak. Certainly the place itself was fine as a destination, but with Phoebe’s silence he had procrastinated coming, terrified to find that she was missing once again. Lost to the winds, to him.
That fear could not chain him forever though. Especially not after the sermon of sorts he had witnessed, the words that had entered his dreams and plagued his waking hours. It hadn’t been a huge logical leap to assume the man on the wall hailed from Stormbreak, and the residents had been kind enough in guiding Harper to the Temple where he could hopefully be found.
The temple itself is a majesty unlike anything he has seen before. The one in the Grounds was old and damaged by time, even stone and mortar unable to resist the strain of life in the barrier. Stepping inside feels blasphemous somehow, like Harper will dirty the place with his inelegance and boyish charm (or just his shoes). Except once he has crossed the threshold he is greeted and encouraged further inside by a smooth, undulating voice; clearly practiced in the art of speech. The man at the altar is the one he seeks. Harper rarely forgets a face with all the training he’d been forced to endure.
Every step feels a little easier as he obligingly walks between the pews, readjusting the staff on his back to ensure it doesn’t knock against the fixtures. “I’m not sure what it is I seek. Guidance, maybe. I heard your speech in Torchline - I wanted to know more.” He slows as he approaches the altar, boyish shyness enforcing distance even as his spine remains straight and proud. “My name is Harper.”
That fear could not chain him forever though. Especially not after the sermon of sorts he had witnessed, the words that had entered his dreams and plagued his waking hours. It hadn’t been a huge logical leap to assume the man on the wall hailed from Stormbreak, and the residents had been kind enough in guiding Harper to the Temple where he could hopefully be found.
The temple itself is a majesty unlike anything he has seen before. The one in the Grounds was old and damaged by time, even stone and mortar unable to resist the strain of life in the barrier. Stepping inside feels blasphemous somehow, like Harper will dirty the place with his inelegance and boyish charm (or just his shoes). Except once he has crossed the threshold he is greeted and encouraged further inside by a smooth, undulating voice; clearly practiced in the art of speech. The man at the altar is the one he seeks. Harper rarely forgets a face with all the training he’d been forced to endure.
Every step feels a little easier as he obligingly walks between the pews, readjusting the staff on his back to ensure it doesn’t knock against the fixtures. “I’m not sure what it is I seek. Guidance, maybe. I heard your speech in Torchline - I wanted to know more.” He slows as he approaches the altar, boyish shyness enforcing distance even as his spine remains straight and proud. “My name is Harper.”
this is your ocean, an ocean of night
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
