If I can stop one heart from breaking
If I can ease one life the aching
If I can ease one life the aching
It can’t be logically called a return when his visits to Stormbreak are just that - visits - but it feels like a return in an emotional sense. Being away from Phoebe is hard, a difficulty Harper is scarcely coping with, but neither can shirk their duties and allegiances. Harper to Torchline and Safrin’s city, Phoebe to Frey’s mission and her calling as a demigod. Realistically he knows this is the best they can achieve. It doesn’t make it easier.
In their time apart, much has happened. Perhaps more internally admittedly but it has left him with a heavy mind and a tentatively hopeful heart. Edmund’s sweet face and baby cheeks had brought something to the fore of his mind. He is older than Phoebe, maybe that’s why he is beginning to have these thoughts. Thoughts of family, of children. Something more concrete between the two of them.
Stepping inside the threshold of the house she keeps here, Harper finds it empty. Pocketing his key, he sets about making tea of their favored flavors. When two steaming cups are set on the dining table, he sits and nurses his own, trying to drown the butterflies and anxieties alike in his stomach. Surely she’ll know the moment she sees him that he has something on his mind. They don’t have sit down talks like this often, preferring the intimacy of being intertwined on the couch or bed while they share stories of what had transpired in their time apart. Still, as blatant as the setup is, it’s a way to force himself not to abandon the topic as soon as he’s faced with the chance to bring it up.
In their time apart, much has happened. Perhaps more internally admittedly but it has left him with a heavy mind and a tentatively hopeful heart. Edmund’s sweet face and baby cheeks had brought something to the fore of his mind. He is older than Phoebe, maybe that’s why he is beginning to have these thoughts. Thoughts of family, of children. Something more concrete between the two of them.
Stepping inside the threshold of the house she keeps here, Harper finds it empty. Pocketing his key, he sets about making tea of their favored flavors. When two steaming cups are set on the dining table, he sits and nurses his own, trying to drown the butterflies and anxieties alike in his stomach. Surely she’ll know the moment she sees him that he has something on his mind. They don’t have sit down talks like this often, preferring the intimacy of being intertwined on the couch or bed while they share stories of what had transpired in their time apart. Still, as blatant as the setup is, it’s a way to force himself not to abandon the topic as soon as he’s faced with the chance to bring it up.
I shall not live in vain
HARPER
