the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead
reverberation of the dead
The tears don’t come for Harper yet. Later, once the shock has worn off a little, he’s sure they’ll come. For now all he can do is hold his head in his hands and nod listlessly. “I know. I know it’s hard Phoebe…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t have a fix this time.” That he can’t repair this with a wave of his hand, like his easy acceptance of her time in her demigod cocoon, or her desire to not marry. He had given her as much of the world as he could fit in his hands, but he was merely a man. What did that amount to in the eyes of a woman turned half-god? He is mortal and flawed, and because of that he cannot fix what has been broken.
He balks despite his good intentions, teeth gritting immediately at the idea of Phoebe trying to live in two lands again. “Why would you need to live there after the garden is made?” he asks, careful to keep his tone neutral. Ask the relevant questions, get more information before he gives in to the dark, age old nature in his chest that refuses to let his child out of sight for more than a day or two of travel.
Harper knew she’d press, ask directly, but he wishes selfishly that they could just focus on planning Jude’s parenting. “I think it’s too soon, and the hurt and confusion for both of us too close, to even think about that right now.” Trying to be peaceable, neutral, about a topic far from that. “I don’t want to give you false hope, Phoebe. I…I love Maeve. And I don’t love people lightly, you know that. I know it wasn’t your fault either time, but you’ve disappeared without a trace twice now. That…that isn’t easy for me to overcome. I don’t know how to trust it won’t happen again; and I don’t want my relationship with you - or with anyone - to be spent on pins and needles, waiting to be left behind.” And, as unfair as it might feel to Phoebe, Maeve had been there from the start. First as someone for him to protect as a bouncer, then a friend, a confidant, a ruler. A best friend. Someone he could rely on, and who could rely on him in return. Maeve was as steady as the tide, and Phoebe…well, Frey was like the wind, and Phoebe the petals that would drift wherever it pulled her.
He balks despite his good intentions, teeth gritting immediately at the idea of Phoebe trying to live in two lands again. “Why would you need to live there after the garden is made?” he asks, careful to keep his tone neutral. Ask the relevant questions, get more information before he gives in to the dark, age old nature in his chest that refuses to let his child out of sight for more than a day or two of travel.
Harper knew she’d press, ask directly, but he wishes selfishly that they could just focus on planning Jude’s parenting. “I think it’s too soon, and the hurt and confusion for both of us too close, to even think about that right now.” Trying to be peaceable, neutral, about a topic far from that. “I don’t want to give you false hope, Phoebe. I…I love Maeve. And I don’t love people lightly, you know that. I know it wasn’t your fault either time, but you’ve disappeared without a trace twice now. That…that isn’t easy for me to overcome. I don’t know how to trust it won’t happen again; and I don’t want my relationship with you - or with anyone - to be spent on pins and needles, waiting to be left behind.” And, as unfair as it might feel to Phoebe, Maeve had been there from the start. First as someone for him to protect as a bouncer, then a friend, a confidant, a ruler. A best friend. Someone he could rely on, and who could rely on him in return. Maeve was as steady as the tide, and Phoebe…well, Frey was like the wind, and Phoebe the petals that would drift wherever it pulled her.
provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong
describing how all things went wrong
