Harper
I see what lies heavy on your heart
The allowance of his emotion is unexpected. His mentors, his captors, his family and friends...they had all seen just how destructive Harper was in a rage, and had always forced him to keep it down and away from anyone who could be caught in the middle of it all. She makes it seem so very simple, and he can't help but initially scoff at the idea. But...Melita is stronger than him, here. Something he has finally gotten used to after arriving in an entirely different world. She could stop him if she needed to. And it makes him feel safer than he ever has before, though the sad reality of his desire for a leash and muzzle for himself escapes him.
Before he can tell her this directly, she snarls at the unfair assessment, and the shock of her previous revelation is all that makes him tuck his head down amidst his drunken anger and accept that he was wrong. "Yeah, you do. I envy that. And I'm sorry - wasn't fair to say." But as far as he knows, Melita has never had a partner, and maybe that's why she has never wavered, never backed down from the horizon she keeps firmly within her sights. "I never know when to fuckin' move on when it comes to my heart...and when I finally do, they waltz back in, expecting open arms. And they hurt me, and accuse me, and tell me it's unfair. But they left first." His voice begins to shake again, fury returning, hurt seeping out like poison from open wounds.
Standing is an act of wobbling that is pitiful to see from an acrobat, but Harper doesn't rightly care. She'd asked what he intended to do, and he's going to give her an answer. "I'm...I'm gonna throw shit. And y'can join me, or stop me if I get outta hand." And he begins with the almost-empty bottle in his hand, which he smashes into the bonfire in front of them, listening to the glass shatter and watching the flames leap high as they consume the alcohol within. It feels amazing.
Before he can tell her this directly, she snarls at the unfair assessment, and the shock of her previous revelation is all that makes him tuck his head down amidst his drunken anger and accept that he was wrong. "Yeah, you do. I envy that. And I'm sorry - wasn't fair to say." But as far as he knows, Melita has never had a partner, and maybe that's why she has never wavered, never backed down from the horizon she keeps firmly within her sights. "I never know when to fuckin' move on when it comes to my heart...and when I finally do, they waltz back in, expecting open arms. And they hurt me, and accuse me, and tell me it's unfair. But they left first." His voice begins to shake again, fury returning, hurt seeping out like poison from open wounds.
Standing is an act of wobbling that is pitiful to see from an acrobat, but Harper doesn't rightly care. She'd asked what he intended to do, and he's going to give her an answer. "I'm...I'm gonna throw shit. And y'can join me, or stop me if I get outta hand." And he begins with the almost-empty bottle in his hand, which he smashes into the bonfire in front of them, listening to the glass shatter and watching the flames leap high as they consume the alcohol within. It feels amazing.
and the strength you still keep inside
