HARPER
He can feel the threads in her breaking one by one, a needlepoint undone by careless fingers plucking too hard on tender strings. She resists it, will or perhaps pride giving her the strength to fight, but Harper knows it's a battle already lost. Like the tide it will come, and it will sweep her under as it is meant to do. And here he will be, her buoy and lighthouse, to guide her back when the current is done with her.
Her words are muffled against his shoulder, but each word registers clear by virtue of her nearness, and though Harper hadn't expected this particular revelation it is easy enough to accept. It is an age old dilemma, one she is scarcely the first to face, even with her godhood. In fact it's almost painfully familiar to whispered worries Kova would speak to him in the night, holding hands like anchors in the ocean of bed sheets between them. It's this memory that lends him the strength to respond. "Ronin's achievements aside, you are half human. It is a part of you, one you cannot ignore in favor of what you think your godly part should strive for. There is a balance in you, one I'm sure your mother created intentionally so you may experience the best and worst of both sides." He hugs her closer, continuing to sway, the humid air around them brushing stray strands of hair against his cheek where it tilts against her head. "I don't judge you, even if you think I do. I think you, like any other person, are still figuring out who you are. If your mother wanted you to only heal and serve, why make you human at all?" Harper isn't sure if his words are even meaningful, but he believes in them, and in turn he hopes she hears his sincerity if nothing else. He's certainly no poet. "I'm sure your father shares his worries with his husband. Do you judge him for that?" Ronin was a demigod too after all, and therefore would have to be painted with the same brush the girl insisted on turning against herself.
Her words are muffled against his shoulder, but each word registers clear by virtue of her nearness, and though Harper hadn't expected this particular revelation it is easy enough to accept. It is an age old dilemma, one she is scarcely the first to face, even with her godhood. In fact it's almost painfully familiar to whispered worries Kova would speak to him in the night, holding hands like anchors in the ocean of bed sheets between them. It's this memory that lends him the strength to respond. "Ronin's achievements aside, you are half human. It is a part of you, one you cannot ignore in favor of what you think your godly part should strive for. There is a balance in you, one I'm sure your mother created intentionally so you may experience the best and worst of both sides." He hugs her closer, continuing to sway, the humid air around them brushing stray strands of hair against his cheek where it tilts against her head. "I don't judge you, even if you think I do. I think you, like any other person, are still figuring out who you are. If your mother wanted you to only heal and serve, why make you human at all?" Harper isn't sure if his words are even meaningful, but he believes in them, and in turn he hopes she hears his sincerity if nothing else. He's certainly no poet. "I'm sure your father shares his worries with his husband. Do you judge him for that?" Ronin was a demigod too after all, and therefore would have to be painted with the same brush the girl insisted on turning against herself.
if brokenness is a form of art
I must be a poster child prodigy
I must be a poster child prodigy
