Harper
I see what lies heavy on your heart
Melita is cherished enough to warrant the pathetic attempt of a huffed laugh that he supplies, but it leaves him feeling immeasurably exhausted. Like he's carving out further portions from a block that has no wood left to give. Leaving only score marks and scars that do nothing to replace the stability of the foundation he once had.
As she observes him, he observes the fire. Perhaps idly consuming more of whatever is in his hand. He doesn't care to figure it out; someone had given it to him when he arrived, and that's the furthest he'd looked into the matter. Though they don't know each other all that deeply, Harper knows the Honeybee's temperament enough to be surprised by her forthright concern, and it's evident in his expression as he turns to her. Silent, weighing. What would it matter, if he told her? If he didn't? It will change nothing in the end. He will go home to a house that he never built, with no leader to occupy the true purpose of the building, no fiancee to find within its halls, and only one of his two sons beneath its roof. So why should he?
Then again, the same logic says 'why not?'
"The second woman in Caido I've ever loved and tied myself to has disappeared. Her son - as close to my own as he could be - is similarly missing. At this point, what's the common denominator huh?" There's a spitting bitterness to his tone, and yet the acid burns only himself. "I'm angry. I'm fucking - I'm pissed Mel, but I can't be pissed because anger is a rot and I can't let it spread. Can't let Jude see it, or Ray, or anyone who needs Harper the Councilman." And does it even matter if he's a councilman now, when Maeve is gone and Hadama is a mere patch on a straining, ripped blanket? "You and me, Mel? We get left behind. That's all we're good for; being the people who stay while everyone else moves on to warmer waters." And it's cruel and unfair to drag her into this, and surely she'd be in her rights to punch him for it, but Harper has never been crueler than when he's drunk. Than when he's defeated.
As she observes him, he observes the fire. Perhaps idly consuming more of whatever is in his hand. He doesn't care to figure it out; someone had given it to him when he arrived, and that's the furthest he'd looked into the matter. Though they don't know each other all that deeply, Harper knows the Honeybee's temperament enough to be surprised by her forthright concern, and it's evident in his expression as he turns to her. Silent, weighing. What would it matter, if he told her? If he didn't? It will change nothing in the end. He will go home to a house that he never built, with no leader to occupy the true purpose of the building, no fiancee to find within its halls, and only one of his two sons beneath its roof. So why should he?
Then again, the same logic says 'why not?'
"The second woman in Caido I've ever loved and tied myself to has disappeared. Her son - as close to my own as he could be - is similarly missing. At this point, what's the common denominator huh?" There's a spitting bitterness to his tone, and yet the acid burns only himself. "I'm angry. I'm fucking - I'm pissed Mel, but I can't be pissed because anger is a rot and I can't let it spread. Can't let Jude see it, or Ray, or anyone who needs Harper the Councilman." And does it even matter if he's a councilman now, when Maeve is gone and Hadama is a mere patch on a straining, ripped blanket? "You and me, Mel? We get left behind. That's all we're good for; being the people who stay while everyone else moves on to warmer waters." And it's cruel and unfair to drag her into this, and surely she'd be in her rights to punch him for it, but Harper has never been crueler than when he's drunk. Than when he's defeated.
and the strength you still keep inside
