HARPER
There's no room for embarrassment here, only support and encouragement, and a relief that flows through his veins when her smile gains ground and turns from tremulous to burgeoning surety. His own only does the same, exuding warmth to try and help chase the chill of doubt and anxiety away. As she straightens he dares to venture closer, careful not to intrude upon her space too boldly after her reaction to his hug but still concerned about her chosen perch. All seems well for a moment, but Harper isn't willing to take the chance of being too far to help.
"We can start whenever you like. And if you want to do lessons regularly, I can go to Stormbreak as well." Even if the prospect is intimidating, his singular visit to Gideon had helped break the ice; though he hadn't found Phoebe, which only made the burden on his shoulders heavier.
Any darkening thoughts are swept aside when a cry is uttered from the heavens, and as she spins Harper already sees the inevitability of her actions. "Seren!" it's a sharp warning, but even as he snaps it he's moving - lunging forward to wrap an arm around her waist as she falls. There's too much momentum, too little room to correct and pull backwards, and they're in freefall. The wind through his hair is nothing he has ever learned to fear however, and the amount of times he has been knocked from roofs and perches mid-fight is too numerous to count. There is no space for fear or orders, only reaction. Only the unavoidable, looming demand that he keep Seren safe.
There is a laundry line between the two roofs, and his free hand reaches to grab it as they fall; it rips through the skin of his palm in short order, the braided strands coarse and domestic as they shred his flesh and coat their fibers in blood, but his grip is strong and sure even through the pain. The brace that had been on their side of the alley snaps, and they're dropping, free-falling anew. Harper wraps his forearm in the rope, praying the other knot will hold or at least slow their fall when they hit the limit of the rope, grunting as it sears against his skin and tightens down around the muscle with bruising force. The other side holds however, and he spins to keep Seren tight against his body away from the wall as they approach it, kicking out with his legs to keep their conjoined forms from hitting the building. It is a hard impact on his joints, but they bend and capitulate to distribute the shock. As he breathes out for seemingly the first time, Harper takes stock of the situation quickly, unwilling to trust the anchor to hold their weight much longer. Seren dangles in his grasp at his hip, and the rope is a brand of agony from palm to elbow, but the strain is barely visible on his face as he looks down at her from where they dangle. "Are you okay? Can you float down if I let you go?" The huff of his breath is the only sign of physical burden from holding her up, the brace of his legs against the wall the only counterpoint that keeps him from having to hold her entire weight centered on the rope around his arm. It is still quite a lot of weight to be put on the limb, but the pain is secondary to his concern. Harper's arm is surely a close to bruising grip around her waist, but at least she is safe.
"We can start whenever you like. And if you want to do lessons regularly, I can go to Stormbreak as well." Even if the prospect is intimidating, his singular visit to Gideon had helped break the ice; though he hadn't found Phoebe, which only made the burden on his shoulders heavier.
Any darkening thoughts are swept aside when a cry is uttered from the heavens, and as she spins Harper already sees the inevitability of her actions. "Seren!" it's a sharp warning, but even as he snaps it he's moving - lunging forward to wrap an arm around her waist as she falls. There's too much momentum, too little room to correct and pull backwards, and they're in freefall. The wind through his hair is nothing he has ever learned to fear however, and the amount of times he has been knocked from roofs and perches mid-fight is too numerous to count. There is no space for fear or orders, only reaction. Only the unavoidable, looming demand that he keep Seren safe.
There is a laundry line between the two roofs, and his free hand reaches to grab it as they fall; it rips through the skin of his palm in short order, the braided strands coarse and domestic as they shred his flesh and coat their fibers in blood, but his grip is strong and sure even through the pain. The brace that had been on their side of the alley snaps, and they're dropping, free-falling anew. Harper wraps his forearm in the rope, praying the other knot will hold or at least slow their fall when they hit the limit of the rope, grunting as it sears against his skin and tightens down around the muscle with bruising force. The other side holds however, and he spins to keep Seren tight against his body away from the wall as they approach it, kicking out with his legs to keep their conjoined forms from hitting the building. It is a hard impact on his joints, but they bend and capitulate to distribute the shock. As he breathes out for seemingly the first time, Harper takes stock of the situation quickly, unwilling to trust the anchor to hold their weight much longer. Seren dangles in his grasp at his hip, and the rope is a brand of agony from palm to elbow, but the strain is barely visible on his face as he looks down at her from where they dangle. "Are you okay? Can you float down if I let you go?" The huff of his breath is the only sign of physical burden from holding her up, the brace of his legs against the wall the only counterpoint that keeps him from having to hold her entire weight centered on the rope around his arm. It is still quite a lot of weight to be put on the limb, but the pain is secondary to his concern. Harper's arm is surely a close to bruising grip around her waist, but at least she is safe.
if brokenness is a form of art
I must be a poster child prodigy
I must be a poster child prodigy
