the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead
reverberation of the dead
Torchline has been busy for weeks now. The cause of the persistent cold weather had been determined but not destroyed, the Stargate’s construction was complete, and behind the scenes of it all, Maeve and Harper were feeling out the new relationship they had committed themselves to. Admittedly not much has changed there. They co-raised Jude and Edmund as they always had. After Maeve had moved Harper and Jude in when he’d broken down, they’d adjusted to being there for one another physically long before any kind of romance had been introduced. Now, it was like nothing had really changed, aside from murmured sentiments and reassurances.
Today is his day off, and he spends it on the carpet with Jude in the sitting room. The babe is nearly a year old now, his birthday approaching swiftly in Longheat, and Harper never stops marveling at the changes in his son. Able to stand, walk, and even run on chubby little legs. Able to say his first word - dada, which had made Harper cry for hours the day it happened - and capable of developing motor skills that Harper found deep joy in cataloguing as the tiny little life he’d helped make grew and developed before his very eyes.
Jude is playing with soft blocks when the attendant pokes her head inside, eyes huge and face pale. Harper’s vague turn towards her becomes a sharp look, immediately standing. “What is it Julie?” he asks, voice low and commanding. The secretary tucks hair behind her ear; Harper sees her hand shake. “There’s someone here to see you sir,” her voice wobbles, and Harper frowns deeply, picking up his son from the carpet just in case he needs to be moved to safety swiftly. “Who?” he prompts, trying not to become restless or irritated by her nerves. “Phoebe, sir,” Julie whispers, and the floor falls away from beneath Harper’s feet. He staggers, and Julie rushes inside as he catches himself on the couch, Jude’s voice rising in objection only to go silent at the expression on his father’s face. Julie touches his elbow, and Harper waves her away with a hand that shakes terribly. Whatever she says next is muddled, like he’s underwater and she’s trying to speak from a great distance.
She follows anxiously behind him as he shoves his way out of the room, Jude clutched tight to his side. The same steps he has taken a thousand times retraced until he is at the entrance to the Court of the Stars, where a woman with long blonde hair stands just beyond the desk. His heart feels like fire in his chest, and he isn’t sure if it’s a good feeling. It hurts all the same. “Phoebe?” he whispers, desperate but uncertain if this was some sort of trick, one of Caido’s grand deceptions. Jude sniffles into his chest, clearly perturbed by his father’s rare shaken disposition, and the pair stand there waiting for the pin to drop.
Today is his day off, and he spends it on the carpet with Jude in the sitting room. The babe is nearly a year old now, his birthday approaching swiftly in Longheat, and Harper never stops marveling at the changes in his son. Able to stand, walk, and even run on chubby little legs. Able to say his first word - dada, which had made Harper cry for hours the day it happened - and capable of developing motor skills that Harper found deep joy in cataloguing as the tiny little life he’d helped make grew and developed before his very eyes.
Jude is playing with soft blocks when the attendant pokes her head inside, eyes huge and face pale. Harper’s vague turn towards her becomes a sharp look, immediately standing. “What is it Julie?” he asks, voice low and commanding. The secretary tucks hair behind her ear; Harper sees her hand shake. “There’s someone here to see you sir,” her voice wobbles, and Harper frowns deeply, picking up his son from the carpet just in case he needs to be moved to safety swiftly. “Who?” he prompts, trying not to become restless or irritated by her nerves. “Phoebe, sir,” Julie whispers, and the floor falls away from beneath Harper’s feet. He staggers, and Julie rushes inside as he catches himself on the couch, Jude’s voice rising in objection only to go silent at the expression on his father’s face. Julie touches his elbow, and Harper waves her away with a hand that shakes terribly. Whatever she says next is muddled, like he’s underwater and she’s trying to speak from a great distance.
She follows anxiously behind him as he shoves his way out of the room, Jude clutched tight to his side. The same steps he has taken a thousand times retraced until he is at the entrance to the Court of the Stars, where a woman with long blonde hair stands just beyond the desk. His heart feels like fire in his chest, and he isn’t sure if it’s a good feeling. It hurts all the same. “Phoebe?” he whispers, desperate but uncertain if this was some sort of trick, one of Caido’s grand deceptions. Jude sniffles into his chest, clearly perturbed by his father’s rare shaken disposition, and the pair stand there waiting for the pin to drop.
provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong
describing how all things went wrong
