I don't want to steal your freedom
you don't have to change your mind
Harper has no qualms with her touch, whether it lands on his skin or his feathers. He scarcely notices it, the physical creature that he is. For so long he was touch-starved to the point of shaking apart with it, but after a season of finding comfort in any warm body he could find, the hypersensitivity has faded at last. It doesn't linger - something Harper despises - but he suspects it's due to a lack of emotional investment on both sides.
In fact, this is the first time he has experienced any level of resurgence of emotional connection or history with someone. He worries he may have scared her off with his vehemence. For a moment he holds his breath until the air burns in his lungs, second-guessing himself. When she responds without otherwise spurning him, he tries to exhale it subtly, slowly; reluctant to reveal how much her reaction meant to him in that moment.
"Unfortunately I still believe in it," he mutters, staring down at his flask, seeing a face that never made it to Caido. "I just think people are poison. Not all - but some. And everything those poisoned people touch is bound to rot, no matter how sweet the love." Like a rotten apple sitting sly at the bottom of a barrel, ready to destroy the entire bushel. To anyone else, it would be a disparaging comment against his exes, but Harper thinks the poison is something he carries in himself - and it's why he doesn't think self-love has any hope of fixing it. He has minimal ill-will toward himself. Clearly the issue is something deeper.
Handing over the bottle when he might otherwise not have were he sober, Harper lets his hand drop to the table when she takes it, considering her question for a long moment. "Go home," he admits softly, envisioning skyscrapers and brilliant lit up skylines first, then - "To my world, sure, but specifically to where I was born. A traveling circus." He isn't sure if she's ever seen one, and if she has, if the few measly kinds Harper has ever seen in Caido could possibly translate the brilliance and gaudiness of what he'd once known. "And I would fly on the trapeze, or around the ring on our animals, enchanting kids and entertaining tired souls..." His blue eyes go distant and dark with yearning. "I would make people laugh and smile. Be someone other than myself in that spotlight. Or maybe just be me the way I truly am." Not a facade of showmanship but a revelation of heart.
Pulling himself from the vision is painful, but he manages a small smile for the woman across from him. "What about you?"
In fact, this is the first time he has experienced any level of resurgence of emotional connection or history with someone. He worries he may have scared her off with his vehemence. For a moment he holds his breath until the air burns in his lungs, second-guessing himself. When she responds without otherwise spurning him, he tries to exhale it subtly, slowly; reluctant to reveal how much her reaction meant to him in that moment.
"Unfortunately I still believe in it," he mutters, staring down at his flask, seeing a face that never made it to Caido. "I just think people are poison. Not all - but some. And everything those poisoned people touch is bound to rot, no matter how sweet the love." Like a rotten apple sitting sly at the bottom of a barrel, ready to destroy the entire bushel. To anyone else, it would be a disparaging comment against his exes, but Harper thinks the poison is something he carries in himself - and it's why he doesn't think self-love has any hope of fixing it. He has minimal ill-will toward himself. Clearly the issue is something deeper.
Handing over the bottle when he might otherwise not have were he sober, Harper lets his hand drop to the table when she takes it, considering her question for a long moment. "Go home," he admits softly, envisioning skyscrapers and brilliant lit up skylines first, then - "To my world, sure, but specifically to where I was born. A traveling circus." He isn't sure if she's ever seen one, and if she has, if the few measly kinds Harper has ever seen in Caido could possibly translate the brilliance and gaudiness of what he'd once known. "And I would fly on the trapeze, or around the ring on our animals, enchanting kids and entertaining tired souls..." His blue eyes go distant and dark with yearning. "I would make people laugh and smile. Be someone other than myself in that spotlight. Or maybe just be me the way I truly am." Not a facade of showmanship but a revelation of heart.
Pulling himself from the vision is painful, but he manages a small smile for the woman across from him. "What about you?"
I just want to make you love me
so please let me take my time
HARPER
