the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead
reverberation of the dead
She’s not wrong, but “I wish I could.” It’s a defeated murmur. Wishes won’t change anything meaningful. Even prayers wouldn’t. No matter how magical Caido is compared to his original world, some things even Gods can’t fix.
Relief floods through him at her answer; broad shoulders slumping and curling with gratitude that this, at least, could be resolved. “Good. He can go with you when you work on the garden of course I just…I don’t want him too far for too long.” From eyesight, even, but Harper would also have to make concessions to make this work.
Her grief is so immediate that it’s like an electric shock, and Harper doesn’t bother thinking about whether he should or shouldn’t before he covers the space between them to gently rub her back. Heart like a sinkhole in his chest, intent on devouring everything within reach. It almost feels like a backhanded compliment, to say that she’d never find someone else; he had, and that somehow implies that his loyalty was lesser. But he doesn’t dwell on that. Can’t, when he can hear the desperation in her tone. Harper bows his forehead to rest against the back of her shoulder, and tries not to cry with her. “I can’t promise you anything Phoebe. Even just to make you feel better. But I…I can give you that much.” That he’d consider it, not count her out as she put it. He hates that his mind might not change, doesn’t want to leave her with any shred of hope that might tear her apart, but he can at least give her the honesty of saying he will think about it.
Gently pulling away, he wipes his face and gestures weakly to the baby items on the table. “Everything he needs is there. I think we both need time to think over all of this. I’ll be back tonight?” Tone goes high at the end, doubting his welcome at the last minute and turning it into a question. He hovers near the door, waiting for her to tell him whether she’d like the night alone with Jude or not. Only then will he go.
Relief floods through him at her answer; broad shoulders slumping and curling with gratitude that this, at least, could be resolved. “Good. He can go with you when you work on the garden of course I just…I don’t want him too far for too long.” From eyesight, even, but Harper would also have to make concessions to make this work.
Her grief is so immediate that it’s like an electric shock, and Harper doesn’t bother thinking about whether he should or shouldn’t before he covers the space between them to gently rub her back. Heart like a sinkhole in his chest, intent on devouring everything within reach. It almost feels like a backhanded compliment, to say that she’d never find someone else; he had, and that somehow implies that his loyalty was lesser. But he doesn’t dwell on that. Can’t, when he can hear the desperation in her tone. Harper bows his forehead to rest against the back of her shoulder, and tries not to cry with her. “I can’t promise you anything Phoebe. Even just to make you feel better. But I…I can give you that much.” That he’d consider it, not count her out as she put it. He hates that his mind might not change, doesn’t want to leave her with any shred of hope that might tear her apart, but he can at least give her the honesty of saying he will think about it.
Gently pulling away, he wipes his face and gestures weakly to the baby items on the table. “Everything he needs is there. I think we both need time to think over all of this. I’ll be back tonight?” Tone goes high at the end, doubting his welcome at the last minute and turning it into a question. He hovers near the door, waiting for her to tell him whether she’d like the night alone with Jude or not. Only then will he go.
provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong
describing how all things went wrong
