Harper
love many things
for therein lies true strength
for therein lies true strength
Winter is a strange time for Harper. He wouldn’t venture so far as to say he hates it, but he certainly dislikes it. Dark thoughts and morose evenings are more plentiful when the sun is so scarce in the sky. Luckily his time is still spent mostly in Torchline, which persists stubbornly, striving for mild weather and nothing less. It is difficult to see Phoebe so irregularly, but at least they are reunited. It keeps him going on days when loneliness threatens to set in.
Loneliness is what drives him to Haulani. Here there are always people to be found; noise, chatter, companionship even in passing association. That is what he was initially counting on at least. Recognition is inevitable of course with how long he has lived her and his new council position, but Maeve isn’t a face he’d anticipated. Much less the tiny little tot of a child she is pursuing.
Harper scarcely recalls how he makes it to her side, practically teleporting to her side where he shakes like an anxious tiny dog with excitement at the mere prospect of a baby being in his vicinity. Unwilling to frighten the child, he hangs just far enough back to give space, but his face aches immediately with the splitting grin on his face that is shown to Maeve as his head whips back and forth between them, reluctant to look away from Aidon and his little charge but needing permission from mom. “Maeve! Oh my gods! Look at him!” All manners forgotten, salutations abandoned as his tanned arms reach eagerly, hands making childish grasping motions at Edmund.
Loneliness is what drives him to Haulani. Here there are always people to be found; noise, chatter, companionship even in passing association. That is what he was initially counting on at least. Recognition is inevitable of course with how long he has lived her and his new council position, but Maeve isn’t a face he’d anticipated. Much less the tiny little tot of a child she is pursuing.
Harper scarcely recalls how he makes it to her side, practically teleporting to her side where he shakes like an anxious tiny dog with excitement at the mere prospect of a baby being in his vicinity. Unwilling to frighten the child, he hangs just far enough back to give space, but his face aches immediately with the splitting grin on his face that is shown to Maeve as his head whips back and forth between them, reluctant to look away from Aidon and his little charge but needing permission from mom. “Maeve! Oh my gods! Look at him!” All manners forgotten, salutations abandoned as his tanned arms reach eagerly, hands making childish grasping motions at Edmund.
and what is done in love
is always done well
is always done well
