From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
Oh it absolutely was a lost bet, but the bet won’t quite be yet done until the vows are said and the rings are placed. Perhaps they’re both losing, in the end, but all he can do is huff a small crackling sigh to Adam as the man suggests an idea as though he hasn’t thought of it. A muscle feathers in his jaw as he clenches it, fighting to keep the horns from appearing, and he turns back to look at Adam.
“See, the thing is that this is the bluff. She doesn’t think I’ll do it, and after so many times of her asking knowing I’ll back down, I’m tired of it.” His voice is low; only for him and Adam to hear. “So the bet isn’t quite won yet, and I don’t want her to be right again.” Stubborn is as stubborn does, he supposes. But he’s tired of it all, tired of giving and giving and giving, only to have that be the culminating factor in how he can’t help.
He can’t recall how many times he’d told her she wouldn’t like to be married to him. At least now she’ll find out.
you made your choice.
do you regret it yet?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
As Sunjata continued to speak, confirmed that yes, this was indeed just a stupid lost bet, Adam's eyebrows rose so high on his head they almost became a part of his hairline. When he spoke it was slow, as if he was talking to an absolute idiot (because honestly, that was how it felt). "Sunjata. Just...fucking walk out and don't talk to her again, mate. There's your solution. You can just....ignore...her. She's only one person in the whole goddamn town."
Still, as dumb as all of this was, it was Sunjata's decision, and Adam didn't know the man well enough to lift him out of it. "..But...if you wanna swear yourself over for life to someone, go ahead - I'm gonna go check out your buffet." With that he swaggered off, hoping to find some little finger sandwiches.
She strides in at the edge of lateness, her newest gown shimmering in the pale light the afternoon has to offer. As beautiful and gallant as she has always been, face unreadable as she scans those gathered for this pitiful farce of a marriage. Though her emotions simmer inside - disgust, disappointment, hatred, pity - none of it shows upon her beautiful face. Hotaru gazes at the bride and groom to be, separated by significant distance and with various others attending to them with pinched brows and downward slanted lips. Rexanna has Phoebe well in hand, though Hotaru has her own notions about that and will surely speak to her sister about them before long. Her eyes fall upon Sunjata, newly freed of his most recent companion, and she strides up to him with all the intent and grace of a stalking cat. He is pitiful, and sunken far beneath her with this one childish act. Disappointing, truly.
"Sunjata," she says smoothly as she approaches, regal and exuding the airs of someone looking down upon him even from her shorter stature. She doesn't bother telling him not to, trying to convince him that this is wrong or that Phoebe doesn't deserve this ridiculous kind of sacrifice. That he doesn't either, though he will never believe her when she says it. That he doesn't need to take this kind of grief upon himself just to prove something, when he is already so deserving of a break. Then her mouth twists in a wry smirk, her eyes sad where nobody else can see, speaking words that will never form on her tongue. The only sign he will get from her today that this effects her in any way. He may have been a good lay, a better friend and fellow mischief-maker, but Hotaru knows her own boundaries. Sleeping with a married man is one of them, tempting though it may be. For all her own proclivities, marriage is a sanctity she will never break. It reminds her too much of her parents - their love so strong their deaths formed a tree in the coldest regions, intertwined and connected forevermore.
But he's not married just yet, is he?
Hotaru wraps her hands in his collar, jerks him down to her level and kisses him soundly in front of everyone. This wedding is a joke, and she intends to be the punchline. The one that prompts the gasps and hands over hearts. Because they all know these two idiots aren't joining in matrimony over some kind of personal connection. So what's the harm in one last reminder of what he's losing? She bites his lip as she pulls away, the hand that had been caressing his cheek patting harshly against it, more akin to a small slap. "One more for the road." So saying, she turns and stalks away, because the words boiling inside her aren't worth the time and breath. He's not going to change his mind, and she won't be the one to sway him. So she merely cuts the thread and moves on, settling alone to watch the proceedings, wishing she had Deimos or Rexanna by her side.
you are the sun
you heal and
you burn
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.
Harper had been living with her since his arrival, had grown close not only to her but to the boys as well. And though he is familiar with the grief and weight that comes with not being able to save someone, it is his first major loss since his arrival in Caido. He admits that, selfishly, he has not been there for Phoebe in her own grief. Too used to mourning alone, too worried about snapping on her, or showing her a side of himself he buries far beneath the surface. They rotate around each other like distant suns, keeping space between them at every interval.
So when he reads the notice about the wedding, Harper...doesn't know how to feel.
No, that's not quite right. He knows what he feels, but it is so intense of a myriad of emotions that he can scarcely parse them, even with the days before him preceding the wedding. Even now, arriving in the nicest clothes he has, Harper still feels like his head is awash in static. There is a lot going on, and he can't even bring himself to look at the supposed groom, his eyes only for Phoebe as he approaches her. There's another woman at her side, and he flashes her a sheepish look, hoping for a moment with the young bride. She can stay if she desires, but he steps closer almost meekly, completely at odds with his normal personality. Grief hangs around him like a shroud, and he reaches out to gently brush a hand against Phoebe's cheek, expression sad. "I won't say what you're doing is wrong, no matter how I feel about this, but...I'm here. I'll be here, and at home, if you need me. If he ever fails you. I'm sorry that I haven't been lately, when you needed me most." His throat closes a little, and he clears it awkwardly, withdrawing his touch and retreating a few steps, gaze dropping away from her. "You look beautiful. I hope this wedding is everything you want." It hurts too much to say much more, and he gives a chivalrous little bow before he turns and strides away, feeling like he has lost something that had been just beyond his fingertips. If only he had reached a little farther. Been a little faster. Just as he feels about the boys and their loss.
can you protect me from what i want? the love i let in, it left me so lost
Her eyes had glanced over curtains and drapery half a dozen times, sizing up potential disaster zones or where fires would catch far easier – spread like an inferno, escape routes and paths, a heavy sigh pulsing when she realized she likely wouldn’t have the opportunity. The quiver remained, however, along with the bow bracelet tightly wound along her wrist, just in case. Lily’s appearance at her side was a grateful diversion, sighing, half uncertain with the entire calamity herself. Her voice was likely loud enough for several nearby to catch her words - she tempered nothing. “It’s something to do with a bet, or a bluff? I don’t know. It’s stupid. They had a relationship before and it didn’t go well. So why now is beyond me.” Shrugging, incapable of explaining it any further when her brain had a difficult time wrapping around the notions, schemes, and ruses. “I’m just here to set it on fire if need be.” Winking slightly at Jigano behind her, as if it was a joke (it wasn’t).
Maea was never very good at reading the mood. Flowers did not speak to her in languages beyond color and scent, nor had she ever imagined that two people might bind themselves to one another for anything but love. Perhaps it was because of where she had been born and raised - Naturals in the Grounds had rarely felt the need to prove anything to anyone, beyond the ability to survive despite natures best attempts to kill them.
Or perhaps she just lacked the practice in navigating social situations, and the interest to find out what went on between others when they were alone.
All she knew was that the atmosphere in the gathered crowd was very heavy and people were whispering a lot as they waited for the bride to show. She was almost late, and would not have time to seek out Phoebe until after the ceremony. She felt underdressed in her usual plain white gown, somber and serious against the vivid pinks and blues. Unable to bare leaving Ludo's rags behind even for a little while, she plucked at the dark fabric with nervous fingers as she looked for anyone she knew, longing for the whole affair to be over with.
Spotting Jigano, she found a seat beside him and greeted the bard with a pale smile, only listening with half an ear to the mumbled conversations around her.
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Adams words almost fall on deaf ears. Because he’s tried to avoid her, tried to numerous times and only reverted back in her orbit — and part of him hates her for that alone, for the little piece she’d left inside of him that somehow makes him always find a way back. It’s terrible, it’s scornful, and he wishes with everything he can to pluck that piece from him and toss it away. But he couldn’t before, still can’t. And so he only shrugs to Adam with a small sigh. “I wish I could.” He offers, before nodding to the man as he departs in the means of scouting for food.
He doesn’t expect to see Hotaru next, though, and she almost appears on a warpath aimed straight for him. A hurricane, parting the crowd as his gaze focuses on her — shuddering slightly beneath the gaze of her bi-toned eyes. She looks down on him, and he can feel it with the way she stands, the stance she takes as she views him and says his name. Their previous conversations, their histories spread between them open wide in the way she looks at him and he looks to her — crackling, fissuring beneath it all.
He inhales a rasping breath to try and say something, but what he doesn’t know. And instead, he finds her hands at his collar, pulling him down to her all while he lets his own words convey in his own gaze — how part of him wished it was her if he ever did this. But he follows suit, letting her pull him to her. He doesn’t expect the kiss, but he doesn’t care either. He gives into her, one last hoorah if you will. Her hands around his neck and along his cheek vaguely reminiscent of the magic beneath her skin.
The lightning touch he didn’t realize how much he craved until he had it and it was gone.
She bites his lip as she pulls away and he sighs, muscle feathering and jaw clenching, eyes flickering open with shadowed steel that seek her out. “Ru.” Almost a quiet plea. But then she’s gone, weaving through the crowd for a seat, and he realizes that his hand and his arm had been outstretched for her. He halts, lifting to run through his hair and rub at his temples, to pinch the bridge of his nose.
His pride would get him killed one day. Perhaps it already is.
you made your choice.
do you regret it yet?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Phoebe looked up as Rex grabbed her elbow, her frown reflected in her wide brown eyes. If ever there were a melancholy bride, it was her. "Jata is proving a point now though. It doesn't really matter what I want. He will make this wedding happen just to prove that he will hold to his word." she said quietly. Not that she thought he would hurt her to do so, not physically anyways. But he was so determined to see this through that he seemed blind to her sadness and hurt his behavior caused. Things were set in motion that she didn't think she had the strength to stop, and so she had resigned herself to her place.
And then, out of the blue, Harper appeared.
The brush against her cheek caught her off guard, eyes widening. In the days since this spite engagement passed, she wasn't sure anyone had shown her such sympathy and kindness. Jata had been short and downright mean at times. Loren had been chiding and warning. Even now, Rex had been the same, warning her away. But Harper, even as he made clear he did not agree with her actions, affirmed his support of her. He was gentle and kind and sympathetic...and apologetic as if he were somehow to blame for this whole mess she was in. He didn't ask for specifics or actions - he offered presence all of his own accord, as if by some instinct he knew exactly what she had been after this entire time. She stared at him wide-eyed, lips slightly parted, shocked to silence by it.
And then he turned away, calling her beautiful, wishing her this wedding to be all she wanted. Her heart panged painfully in her chest, and she surged forward before her mind could even catch up with her actions.
Thin arms wrapped around Harper's middle, pinning his arms to his sides, her forehead pressed to the center of his back. "I don't. I don't want it. I don't want to marry him." she said, breath hitching as tears welled up in her eyes. She had not cried since Fiat Lux. Not once. Were it not for Harper's tenderness, the gentleness of treatment she had craved, she might've remained stoney and rigid, a ghost of her former self. But with a single touch to her check, the facade cracked and crumbled and began to fall. "I...It's all gone too far. I tried to play his stupid game and hold out and make him lose but...I'm not brave enough. And... I don't know how to stop it. I don't think I can." Tears rolled freely now, wetting the back of his shirt.
"I don't want to marry him, Harper." she whispered.
Harper couldn't have known the kind of reaction he would have instilled in Phoebe. Had no way of knowing what it was she wanted, what she sought when she made this deal with Sunjata. He had spoken from the heart, wanting nothing more than to support her, to apologize for not having the strength to do it sooner. To perhaps spare her from this whole thing. She had been one of his first friends, had taken him into her home, and he had failed her so wholeheartedly that he had not been able to face her. So when she runs and grabs him, spindly arms wrapped tight around his midsection, Harper is surprised to say the least. He had expected her dismissal, her apathy. Instead she clings to him, and he stops immediately though her grasp is weak compared to his strength. If she does not want to see him, face him, he will not make her.
Her voice comes curling around his sides, choked and trembling, and his own eyes burn a little as he lifts a hand to cover hers where they press insistently against his chest. The wetness soaks through his shirt, and he feels his heart crumble with a wave of empathy, knowing how much she has needed this simple physical release. Harper has lost so much, is too used to it to resort to burying his emotions any longer, but she is still so young and fresh faced against grief and death. He knows this will help, will clear her mind in a way nothing else can. And he lets her speak, lets every word fall like rain from her lips as he listens patiently. Ready for her to tell him what she wants, what he can do, what comes next.
Harper turns slowly in her arms if she will allow him, gently moving her arms so that he can embrace her, tugging her in close as he tilts his head to lay his cheek aside her temple. Smelling the ever-present honeysuckle and chemical scent that overlays atop her. So many before her have shaken apart in just this way in his arms, and he shelters her the same way he offered them in their time. Letting her hide away in the dark swathe of his shirt, the concealment of his arms around her. Concealing her from judgmental and curious gazes alike, so that she may make her decisions in the privacy of her own mind. "You are one of the bravest young women I know, Phoebe. There is strength in protecting yourself, in retreating or admitting a boundary has been crossed. It is not a cowardly act to choose self-love over some idea of winning." His voice is soft and low as a hand rises to smooth over her hair gently, cupping at the back of her neck. Offering what small, useless platitudes and advice that he can. Her final admission makes him sigh softly, squeezing her gently. "If you don't want to marry him, all you have to do is say the word. I will take care of it, if that is what you want." She didn't deserve the pain of standing in front of everyone and renouncing her claim if that is what she chose. "Whatever you need, whatever you decide, I'm with you. Even if you choose to marry him. But don't you think, with everything that has happened, that you should choose even the small potential of happiness instead of more suffering?" Blue eyes close, not giving a damn about whoever is gathered around or watching, waiting for some sign from Phoebe as to what he should do next.
can you protect me from what i want? the love i let in, it left me so lost
01-07-2020, 02:27 AM (This post was last modified: 01-07-2020, 05:37 AM by Sunjata.)
SUNJATA
He pulls his hand from the bridge of his nose, inhaling a crackling breath when he spots her darting across the open grasses of the Oasis — how she darts to embrace an unknown man to him in what appears to be some sort of display. It doesn’t bother him, he doesn’t care in that regard. If she’d found someone else then why had she demanded this of him?
But even still; they’re talking and it’s taking far longer to start than he had anticipated. Huffing quietly to himself, he smooths down the suit, stuffing the blue cloth within the pocket again, pointedly avoiding looking at people as he makes his way down trim the altar, down the aisle toward them. The man is muscular enough, lithe, short in comparison — and Sunjata’s steel gaze acknowledges him with a small nod before he comes to stand beside Phoebe.
He catches the tail end of the conversation, something private just between them, he can hear the cries, how unhappy she is. And he knew this would be what it was like. That she didn’t mean it when she believed being miserable as two was better than by herself. So he tries, reaching out to attempt to pull her away from Harper into his own embrace. “I knew you didn’t want this Phoebe.” He murmurs, low enough for Harper and Phoebe to hear. “I’m only doing this for you, because it’s what you said you wanted. But gods if it’s going to make you this upset, then don’t.” He doesn’t care. In the end it had been about giving her what she wanted, to get her to feel something, by calling each other’s bluffs.
There’s a tenderness to his touch, a softness to his haunted gaze. He momentarily forgets about Hotaru, forgets about who might be watching. In the end, he doesn’t care one way or another which way it goes. If she stops it; he'll let her.
But there’s still that bit of resentment and spite that has him wanting and craving to win.
He leans his head in a bit closer to her, to her ear should she let him, inhaling a crackling breath as he focuses on … Well, what exactly? He doesn’t know. “It’ll be okay. I’m sorry if I was a dick about it, but I never intended for you to be like this about it. I gave into your terms. And if you really want to keep doing this, I’ll just… Find a way. I’m not a monster, Phoebe.” There’s almost a soft chuckle at the end of that, though it doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t fall into his voice. He doesn’t care which way it goes – all he knows is that he’d never intended for her to get this upset about it. That for something she claimed she wanted, she certainly was making it hard to believe it.
you made your choice.
do you regret it yet?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Frey would appear, devastatingly attractive as they normally were. With an arm casually around Phoebe's shoulders, the deity would offer an alluring look to Sunjata and Harper as the trio bickered and debated the ridiculousness of what was occurring.
"You know these weddings of yours mean absolutely nothing, right ducklings?" They asked, kaleidoscopic eyes full of mirth and sex and a flourish of the unknown. "It isn't the ceremony that does the binding, it's all the other things that you put into it. Marry each other out of spite, or don't. What of it? If you both change your mind you can call each other assholes, have some really excellent angry sex about it, and move on. What happens here today dictates absolutely nothing."
An apple appeared in their hand, which they bit into with a primitive snarl, letting the juice drip down their wrist.
Harper would find no resistance as he spun in her arms, her own falling to her side limply as he wrapped her up in his own. Her forehead remained pressed to his shoulder, his words falling over her like a waterfall – soothing, calming, compassionate. The midwife clung to each word as though they were all that kept her from falling over the edge of a sheer cliff-side. He offered her protection and presence without any qualifications or terms. If she married Jata, he would be there. If she didn’t marry Jata, he would be there. Without any prompting or reason, Harper had waltzed in and offered unconditional stability – a constant she had lost when Remi had gone.
But before she could respond to anything he said, or even fully comprehend the depth of his words, she was pulled away, embraced by another, more familiar form. Her whole frame tensed as if on instinct, Jata’s words, soft as they were, grating against each nerve. She expected the same harsh words and disinterest, and yet she was met with words of…comfort? Not fully. Back-handed comfort – he was doing this for her as if she were the cause of her own misery, as though he had no true hand in her suffering and pain. You wanted this. I told you so. I’m just doing what you want. He intended kindness surely, but it was all hollow platitudes, ignoring how he had been unnecessarily harsh, how he had gone above and beyond in his angst to lash out against her verbally. If he had wanted her to be happy then why had he tried so hard to make her feel so miserable? Why did he put so much effort into making her understand how much he didn’t want this or her and that all she did was bring him suffering? She didn’t need the extra guilt and sorrow, she was capable of producing that all on her own.
Phoebe opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She was frozen in place, physically and mentally. But after a moment of stillness her body began to tremble, teeth biting down on her lower lip, mind spinning wildly out of control. She reached for love, it was torn away by death and lovers past. She reached for family and it was taken by ice walls, mud monsters, blight, and bodily sabotage. She reached for security and companionship, and it was shattered by cruel words, harsh actions, blame, and guilt. Her dreams pursued turned to nightmarish death marches where she could do nothing to save or defend; helpless and useless. Death and failure and sorrow and guilt, each with a chisel chip, chip, chipping away at her soul, turning a white marble block into blackened gravel.
Slowly she lifted her hands to either side of her head, trembling still as she squeezed her eyes shut, a descent into a madness she had never known. Breath short gasps as the world spun around her, heart beating far too fast for being so still. Where was she? Why was she? Everything suddenly too loud and too quiet, too bright and too dark, spinning too fast and too slow. Was this panic or heart failure or death – she did not know, her mind too muddled in the overwhelming sense that the world around her was caving in and she had no way out. The ground disappeared and she was falling, falling, falling…
A new arm pulled her close, muscular and strong, suffusing her with warmth and want and mystery, the ground reappearing with such suddenness she jerked awkwardly. Images flooded her mind of rolling hills of green grass, too bright for words under pink hued clouds and warm whispery breezes. She did not need to see or hear them to know Frey was suddenly there, holding her, grounding her (or was she suspended? She did feel a bit like she was floating). Her face turned in to their shoulder, head still held in her hands. The world still spun, leaving her dizzy but aware of her surroundings. Their words, moving with honey coated slowness from her ears to her mind, understood but not acted upon. Self-preservation her mind’s only concern, diving her ever deeper into the fantasy that played behind her eyes, hiding from the questions she could not answer. What did she want, what did she want, what did she want?
Once upon a time she knew, and then she shattered under the weight of mourning she had never dealt with, and instead buried in layers of work and half-truths.
”What happens here today dictates absolutely nothing.”
Then why did it not feel like nothing?
Focus on the pretty pink clouds, Phoebe, and the way the hills roll with every breath Frey takes…
She says nothing and it leaves him with absolutely nothing to go off of. Does he call it off, go about it like nothing had ever happened? All these people had already arrived, had already tried to talk him out of it again and again. But maybe, because of his sickness and the confusion that comes and goes with the headaches, maybe he just doesn’t care what they think anymore. Perhaps it was over from the beginning when he’d met Phoebe and started down this path — the both of them manipulating each other in the means and guise of love to get what they want out of it.
He thinks he might just bite the bullet, or let it kill him instead.
He sighs, and then Frey is there, taking Phoebe from him into their embrace, alluring eyes cast toward him and Harper, and somehow — somehow it clears it up in his mind, in strange ways as Frey had done once before. This isn’t Korofi, this isn’t a Korofi wedding where things were expected of you in arrangements and plots for political power. No, Frey’s right, it means basically nothing.
So fuck it, he decides, the worst that can happen is it doesn’t work out and they go about their separate ways saying they’d at least tried. And he could start by showing her a hint of that softness that he has kept buried deep within, regretting it the moment he lets it out.
He swallows hard, stepping toward Phoebe and Frey now, gaze averting from the god he hasn’t seen since Phoebe’s blight, and he turns his attention to his betrothed, shut down and ghostlike as he attempts to try and get her to face him just enough. He leans down toward her, calloused hands lifting to brush a piece of hair from her face, focusing on the effort she’d put into this. The feathers woven into her hair, the blue flowers just for him, and he swallows hard again.
“Frey’s right.” He rumbles to her softly. “If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t. But we can at least try. I will try. I’m sorry.” He tries to lift her chin to look at him. Meanwhile he focuses on the feathers and flowers in her hair, his fingers idly brushing by them all, soft and delicate. “Look around you and tell me five things you can see.” He begins, steel gaze slipping back to her hollow face, shadowed eyes, a spark of something within them that’s not as haunted, recounting the way she had helped him once before, wondering if she’ll remember it too.
you made your choice.
do you regret it yet?
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
01-07-2020, 08:33 PM (This post was last modified: 01-07-2020, 08:34 PM by Harper.)
HARPER
As the groom to be approaches, Harper gently relinquishes his hold on Phoebe, allowing her to be taken into the other man's embrace. He folds his hands at the small of his back and takes a few steps away, giving them some privacy to speak in murmured tones together if they wish. He's not here to play judge and jury, to stick his nose into their private business. He hadn't even meant to interfere in the first place, not until Phoebe had reached for him and admitted her desire to not go through with it. So instead he waits, letting Phoebe decide what she wants for herself.
The sudden appearance of another figure stiffens his spine, knuckles creaking as they clamp down on one another to control his desire to defend himself. They are an impossibly attractive being, and Harper knows immediately that this must be Frey, offering a boyish grin of hello. He won't intrude, and backs away to let the trio speak together and decide on a course of action. Frey is right after all, and Harper understands it coming from a modern world. Divorce could be the answer within two days. But here, Phoebe holds the answers. And though he knows he shouldn't interfere, that she's more than safe with her goddess and her intended, Harper nonetheless feels the itch and desire to help as the young woman shakes apart. Standing like a guardian not far from where the trio clusters, waiting to be brought in or sent away.
{Harper is just waiting and can be skipped!}
can you protect me from what i want? the love i let in, it left me so lost
