HARPER
Perhaps fate or destiny or some other cosmic force is stronger here than his home world, something that draws him across this path that so desperately needs his own to intersect. Because when he had left the manor that morning, Harper had no real goal in mind aside from exploring more of the Hollowed Grounds. The land is far larger than the city he had spent years protecting, but he can't really complain when it gives him something to do with the long empty stretches of days that he has been handed with his lifestyle change.
The day is mild, but with the promise of increasing heat as the sun mounts higher in the sky. A pleasant, familiar weight upon his shoulders and in the dark line of his hair. This, at least, is familiar. It is why his skin has always been darker, tanned and spotted with freckles and moles alike, having lived most of his life in the sunniest place he could find after being kept prisoner away from the sky for years. The air is cleaner here, purer despite the destruction he maneuvers around. Each building abandoned, dilapidated, just as Jigano had said.
He's not so unaware or off his game to glance over the figure hunched over and staring off the side of the bridge at least, and it's here where fate weaves her talented fingers. Frowning as recognition dawns the closer he walks, Harper hurries his step to come closer, and even from the side of Phoebe's face he can tell that something is very wrong. Before she can realize he's approaching, he swings his legs over in one elegant motion and sits down beside her, sickly grateful for so many years of experience talking down people close to jumping to their deaths from various buildings. If he is within range, at least he can physically grab her if it comes to that. Instead he raises a hand to delicately place it upon her back, to smooth up and down her spine if she will allow the touch. "Phoebe, what's wrong?" Blue eyes flit to the cigarette in her hand, and he bites down on a recrimination that leaps to his tongue. It's not the time or place to chastise her for such disastrous habits.
The day is mild, but with the promise of increasing heat as the sun mounts higher in the sky. A pleasant, familiar weight upon his shoulders and in the dark line of his hair. This, at least, is familiar. It is why his skin has always been darker, tanned and spotted with freckles and moles alike, having lived most of his life in the sunniest place he could find after being kept prisoner away from the sky for years. The air is cleaner here, purer despite the destruction he maneuvers around. Each building abandoned, dilapidated, just as Jigano had said.
He's not so unaware or off his game to glance over the figure hunched over and staring off the side of the bridge at least, and it's here where fate weaves her talented fingers. Frowning as recognition dawns the closer he walks, Harper hurries his step to come closer, and even from the side of Phoebe's face he can tell that something is very wrong. Before she can realize he's approaching, he swings his legs over in one elegant motion and sits down beside her, sickly grateful for so many years of experience talking down people close to jumping to their deaths from various buildings. If he is within range, at least he can physically grab her if it comes to that. Instead he raises a hand to delicately place it upon her back, to smooth up and down her spine if she will allow the touch. "Phoebe, what's wrong?" Blue eyes flit to the cigarette in her hand, and he bites down on a recrimination that leaps to his tongue. It's not the time or place to chastise her for such disastrous habits.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly
give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
